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Skirting the Issue by Robyn When I people think about what the world was like in the sixties, mostly they think about the "free love" generation. Woodstock. Smoking pot in the park. Rock 'n' Roll music. Hippies. I was fifteen years old when Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was put onto the turntables of America, but I was unaware of it. I was unaware of virtually all of the changes going on in that decade of revolution. But I really did want to be a part of it. Believe me, I tried. And the effort consigned me to something very few males would have the guts to admit to. So, you may ask, why am I doing so? Ahh...that will be related later in the story. It all begins in June of 1967... I was an only child, the son of David and Sarah Holliday. My father and mother divorced in 1965, and I was given into the custody of my mother, despite my wishes to stay with my dad. And not only was I put into my mother's custody, but she decided to move us both from Washington DC to her home town of Jericho, Wisconsin, population 1220. There I was, a big city boy, about to go through puberty, stuck in some little podunk town in the midwest. Of course, I hated it. My days began early, at five thirty in the morning. Before the sun came up, I had to drag myself out of bed, shower, and eat breakfast, before walking a half mile to the bus stop. There, along with two dozen contented, happy country kids, I was driven for an hour into the nearest school. And after eight hours of that, another hour-long ride home. The other kids, who were mostly other boys, were quite used to the grind, and still bounding with energy at the end of the day. I was different, and was tired and cranky when I finally got home. If I did my homework at all, which became rarer and rarer as the weeks ground on, I was in bed by eight o'clock, exhausted. Of course, my mom noticed this, and tried to do her best to make me feel more at home, there in the countrified setting. But I would have none of it. My mother, on the other hand, had come home. She was born in Jericho, and her mother and two sisters still lived there. She loved the wide- open spaces, and the neighbors, and her family. Looking back on it now, I believe that if I had not been such a bratty teenager, she would have a perfect, contented existence. My mother, Sarah, was one of three girls. Her sisters--my two aunts, Sally and Kathy--still lived in Jericho, or very close to it. Therefore, my mother had almost daily contact with all three of them. My grandmother, Elise, ran a girls' year-round boarding school about ten miles out of town, with my Aunt Kathy and her two huge sons, Scott and Wade. The boys were each about five years or so older than me, and they scared the hell out of me; they were both well over six feet tall, and since they ran a small farm, were extremely muscular. Contemptuously, they nicknamed me "Cityboy". My other Aunt, Sally, was still living in town, and worked in the Country Market as a cashier, a job she had held for the last fifteen years. She was the spinster of the family. And when my mother returned, after the divorce, Sally had gotten her a job keeping the books at the hardware store across the street. Mother and I lived in a small house at the very edge of Jericho. That suited me just fine; I would spend hours by the river, watching the current go by, and wishing that I was back in DC, where things were actually happening once in a while. My radio, a big heavy "portable" monster that sucked the life out of six "D" size batteries a week, was my best friend, and always tuned to WLS, for the best in rock and roll music. My allowance was spent on batteries and comic books. Plus, I had my stash. In an old ammunition box that I had hid in the crook of a tree by the river were my "girlie" books. Old porno magazines that I had found in the attic of our new home, and too good to allow my mother to find them, and toss them into the trash. And being a growing boy, girls were becoming my obsession. Not like I ever had much of a chance to meet any of them. My first crush was on Andrea, a very cute brown-haired, brown-eyed beauty who was enrolled in Grandmother Elise and Aunt Kathy's boarding school--The New Amsterdam Academy for Girls--ten miles out of Jericho. I first saw her as the bus was pulling to its' stop, walking with two girlfriends, in their cute little pleated jumpers, white knee socks, and patent-leather shoes. Her two friends were of no interest, but Andrea was something very special; I could see that right away. She was so damn distracting, in her cute little school uniform, that I began having dreams about her--wet dreams. If I wasn't falling in love for the first time, I was definitely falling in lust. And I did nothing about it. I couldn't just walk up to her and introduce myself, with my growing reputation. She would avoid me like the plague. You see, after about a year of rural boredom, I began to get antisocial. I swore a lot; I smoked cigarettes on the sly when I could get them (and believe me, if I could've gotten pot, I would have smoked that, too), and I took up vandalism. No one could prove that it was me who sneaked out of my house at night, and smashed the occasional window, or wrote some obscenity on a wall, or stuffed a cat in one of the large rural mailboxes, but everybody pretty much knew who was responsible. Okay, I admit it. I was a big jerk. It was on my birthday that I finally made the one big mistake. My birthday is in June, just after public school was ending. But there were still girls about wearing the New Amsterdam Academy school uniform; the school ran year-round. This made me glad to be a male; the summer, even though I had to spend it in the middle of nowhere, was mine. Even though I wished, and pined for a girlfriend to spend it with. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I was in L'il Richard's Country Market. My aunt Sally was not working, and so I thought that it would be safe to stop in to buy a pack of smokes. The guy who worked there, Tony, sold me cigarettes on the sly. So when the coast was clear, and there was nobody in the store, I asked for a pack. Tony shook his head. "Sorry, Danny," he said. "No can do." I looked at him accusingly. "Why not? You did last week, and the week before that!" "Hey, your aunt figured out where you were getting them," he said. "And if I sell them to you, I'll get in trouble." "So you're afraid of my aunt ratting on you, and getting a spanking?" I asked in disbelief, and more than a little contempt. "Some big man you are!" "Hey, Danny," he said, "This job is better than an allowance. One word from Sally, and I'm fired. No smokes. Sorry." I told him to do something that I'm much too ashamed to write down, and I stalked out of the place, planning my revenge. I'd really get him back, and there would be hell to pay. My mother was at home, and as usual, worried about me. Rudely, I brushed her off, and went up to my room, turning the radio on loudly. Hard rock, harsh and bitter, was the order of the day, and what I needed to calm down while I planned my revenge. And of course, the best thing I could think of was vandalism. After the sun went down, and the full moon rose. I sneaked out of my bedroom window, and went down to the river, and found myself a nice, ten-pound round rock for throwing. And when I found just the right one, worn smooth by the river, I trotted downtown, the rock in my jacket pocket. I approached the Country Market, making sure that the coast was clear. I sat in a hedge, unseen for many minutes, and finally, after assuring myself that I could get away with it, heaved the stone across the street, and into the huge picture window, which shattered with a noise louder than any hard rock song I had ever heard on the radio. And as soon as I heard the sound die down, I heard another, and very close. It was a Police siren! And like the foolish kid I was, I panicked. Looking back on it today, I know that I could have escaped in a hundred different ways; leaping in a dumpster, climbing up a tree, or under a nearby porch. But in my fear, I did the stupidest thing I could have done; I ran in a straight line home. Deputy Jim Campbell, of course, had been sitting in his patrol car, listening to the police scanner only a block away, unseen, when I had broken the window. He had no trouble running me down, either. Deputy Campbell was easily twenty years older than me, but once he saw me, running for home, he got out of his car, and was on his feet, running me down. I was tackled from behind, and in cuffs before I knew it. And in the back seat of the squad car, I was taken home, in tears. My mother was on the front porch, livid with anger as she saw us approach, in the car. I was still in the back seat while the Deputy had a little talk with my mom, during which she broke into tears, and cried openly on his shoulder, while he nodded sympathetically. I watched all this, but could hear nothing from the police car's back seat. Deputy Jim and my mother went into the house, and made me wait. It was the slowest twenty minutes of my life. Eventually, my mother and the deputy came out of the house, and I was taken out of the car, and the cuffs unlocked. My mother's eyes were dried, but still red from her tears. "What have I done to deserve a son like you?" she accused. "Maybe if I still had dad around," I began. "Shut up!" she spat, with a vehemence I had never seen her express before. "Just shut up! You are in a lot of trouble, Daniel Harold Holliday! A lot of trouble! The officer just called the owner of the Country Market to see if he's going to press charges against you." "Charges?" I swallowed. "I'm just a kid. They can't send me to jail or anything." "No, they can't," she said, "But they can send you to reform school. Whether they do or not, I will have to pay for that window. Officer Campbell tells me that its' probably about a hundred and fifty dollars!" A hundred and fifty dollars! I thought, astonished. That was nearly a months' pay at the hardware store. There was little chance that mother would be able to come up with that much cash right away. We would probably have to scrimp and save for weeks! And all because of my stupidity! I started crying, and saying how sorry I was. And when I did, she did something I never dreamed possible. She slapped me, hard, on the cheek. It was something she had never done before. And while it only hurt a little physically, emotionally the slap was shattering. I dropped down to my knees and begged for forgiveness, and plead that I would do anything-- anything!--to put matters back to right. It was no good. "Go to your room, Daniel," she said icily. Her conviction frightened me beyond the prospect of reform school. "Go, and don't you dare leave. If you do, I swear to God you had better stay gone forever. Understand?" Still weeping openly, and ashamed of myself beyond words, I obeyed her. My room was cold. I had left the window opened when I had sneaked out to break the Country Market window. I closed the window, and noticed that my large portable radio was gone. If I had not been so miserable at that moment, I would have raised the roof in fury. But in my condition, I could only lay on my bed, and wait. I heard the deputy and my mother in the living room, talking. Once in a while, my mother would yell out what a "damn troublemaker" I was. "I wish to God I would've had a girl!" she exclaimed, "At least girls can behave themselves once in a while!" The night seemed to go on forever. Eventually, the deputy left, after a while, and all the lights in the house went off. It seemed like I only slept about an hour or so, and was awakened by my mother. She turned on the bedroom lights, and bellowed, "Rise and shine, Danny! Get up, you big damn jerk! You have a lot of things to do today!" I groggily sat up in bed, still in the clothes I had worn on my abortive caper of the night before. She was dressed for church, in her best white dress, high heels, and pillbox hat. "Get your lazy butt out of the sack," she commanded. I obeyed, and looked at her questioningly. "I am going to church, Daniel," she said. "And when I get home, the dishes will be done, the house will be cleaned and vacuumed, and dusted as well. And clean out the fireplace." I must have looked at her with the disbelief I felt. "Don't give me that stupid look," she threatened. "You will do it, while I'm in church. While I'm there, I'm going to have a little talk with your Aunt Kathy. She has a lot of experience in dealing with wild kids like you." Yeah, but only girls, I thought smartly. Like that has anything to do with me! Still, once my mother turned on her heel, and in a flutter of skirts was out the door in her Sunday best, I thought that I had better get to work. After all, she was my mother, and while I didn't exactly love her at that moment, I knew that she certainly could make my sixteen-year-old's life even more miserable than it was now! So, while my mother was in church--a place I never visited--I did housework. I did the dishes, and vacuumed, and dusted, and cleaned the fireplace. All the things I considered to be women's work. But I rationalized my humiliation at doing the humbling tasks away by telling myself that I was only doing them to apologize to my mother. After all, I now knew that last night, I had gone way too far. And I was right. Doing women's work, I felt somehow lowered into the position of a woman. In a way, I thought, while I was dusting the furniture with a featherduster, I was kind of glad I had no real friends here in Jericho. If one of them were to see me, mildly doing housework, I would have been embarrassed beyond words. Still, I meekly complied with my mother's demands, waiting nervously for her to return home. And when she did return home, she brought over not only my Aunt Kathy, but her two sons; all four of them glowered at me menacingly. And the instant the four of them were in the house, my mother simply said, "Go to your room, Danny. We have some serious talking to do." The two large guys, Scott and Wade, looked at me and smirked lopsidedly. Their intention was obviously to threaten me, and it certainly worked. After all, they were built line pro football players, bulked up from years of working on the Holliday Farm, which also housed the New Amsterdam Academy for Girls. As the four of them repaired into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, I listened at the door, and envied the two older guys. They had all the luck, I decided. Year round, they had their pick of the foxiest girls in town, all of whom, it seemed, were students at the Academy. All the other guys in town envied them as well; those two probably never had to try very hard to get laid. And there I was, with only my stack of porno books, outside in the crook of a tree, with only my right hand to spend a Saturday night with. The was no justice in the world. Or was there? As I listened at my bedroom door, I overheard my mother saying, "The boy just needs some discipline. When his father and I split up, he's been getting more and more rowdy." "I think something needs to be done about that, as well," Aunt Kathy said. "After all, we Hollidays have a good name in this community to uphold. And you know what they say about one bad apple, Sarah." "Yes, I do," she replied. "But sending him away for the summer...I don't know." Sending me away? "It's really for the best, sister dear," Kathy said, reassuringly. "A summer as a hand on the farm will give him loads of discipline. And build up his physical strength, too." "He's a runt," Scott pointed out. "He'll never make it as a farm hand." "Well," Aunt Kathy said, reasonably, "We'll just have to make sure he can handle the tasks that he's given." "With that long hippie hair of his, he should be over with the girls, learning to sew and stuff," Wade laughed. "He's more like a girl than a man." I seethed in anger behind the door. Wade, like his brother, were morons. Together, they were about as brainy as your average soap dish. It was only an evolutionary mistake that they were in the same gene pool as myself. "Put 'im in a dress, and make him go to class with the girls," Scott suggested. "He ain't ever gonna make it as a farm hand." "As amusing as that prospect is," Kathy laughed, "Since it's only going to be for the summer, he'll make a fine hand. You two boys can keep an eye on him just fine. So," she asked my mother, "What do you think?" "I don't know," she said. "I retained custody of him so we wouldn't be separated from each other." "But he doesn't appreciate it," Kathy pointed out. "Maybe a summer away from you will improve his disposition. At least give him a respect for authority." "Well...." my mother's voice trailed off. "I could use a break. He's been awfully willful lately. I took away his radio." "Well, that's good as a first step," my aunt pointed out. "That rock music will destroy the minds of our youth, if it isn't stopped. But simply taking away his radio isn't enough. The boy must be disciplined. It's for his own good. Besides, we paid all our other temporary farmhands; if we pay your Danny, too, he could pay for the damage with interest by the end of the summer." There was a few minutes of silence as my mother deliberated my fate. "Yes," she said at last. "A summer away from town can't hurt him any." And with those words, I was cast into an experience I could never have come up with in my wildest dreams. My mother agreed that I would be taken to Holliday Farm that very evening. Over my protests, and my promises to behave, I was made to pack a suitcase with only a few changes of clothing, and packed into the Cadillac with Scott, Wade, and Aunt Kathy. The sun was setting as we left my home, and my mother waved good-bye from the front porch as we left. Once my house was out of sight, I sulked beside my Aunt in the front seat; Scott and Wade sat in the back seat. "It won't be so bad, Danny," Kathy told me as sat, my arms crossed in resentment. "Farm living is certainly something you will need to get used to, but within a week or two, you'll get the knack for it." "But you need a haircut," Scott sneered. "You look like a damn girl with that hippie hair of yours." "No," Kathy scolded him. "The hair stays. If he doesn't want it cut, there's no reason he should have it cut. Isn't that right, Danny darling?" "Right," I grunted. "Well, farmin' will make a man of you," Wade pointed out. "Milkin' cows, sloppin' the pigs, sweepin' out the chicken house," Scott added. "You'll love it." The trip out to the farm took about a half hour. The farm itself was on the huge parcel of land my grandmother Elise still owned, on which there were four major buildings, and a number of smaller ones, not including the two large barns, one which housed the cows, the other hay and harvested crops. Grandmother Elise lived in the house which also served as the New Amsterdam Academy for Girls. Elise lived in an apartment, immaculately kept by the students of the Academy, above. The Academy itself, housed within the building, consisted of an ornate ballroom and a number of individual classrooms, where classes in elocution, beauty, music, cooking, sewing, domestics, and etiquette were taught by both her and Aunt Kathy. Advanced students in the school, who were called the Proper Girls, also taught classes in their specialties before graduation. And to graduate, a girl must teach a class as a requirement. Aunt Kathy, meanwhile, lived in the largest house on the farm, with her two boys. This was also immaculately kept, by the students of the Academy. Kathy's house was built in the 1930's, and featured some hidden passageways and hiding places from the Prohibition Era, when Grandfather Arnold Holliday ran the liquor that earned Grandmother Elise her fortune. The farmhands, of which I was to become, were quartered in the smaller house. This house was located on the east side of the farm. There was only a few bedrooms and a dining room in the house, in which the men's meals were served to them by the Academy girls. The girls also cleaned and maintained these premises, while the men were out working the fields, or busy with the million and one other things that needed to be done daily to keep the farm running. I was told that currently, there were only three hands, of which I was to be the fourth. The fourth and final building was the Girls' Quarters, located on the west side, which placed it furthest from the Farmhand's Quarters. The Girls' Quarters consisted of an eight-bedroom house, kept spotless and pristine by the residents. There were only six live-in students at the Academy, all of whom were local orphan girls, entered into the Academy free of tuition, by the goodwill of my grandmother. The live-in girls were very grateful indeed to be there, and always became leaders in the class standings, netting themselves good husbands later on in life. Additionally, the live-ins were only required to wear the school uniform, a blackwatch-plaid jumper dress and white blouse, into town; normally, they wore dresses of a very feminine style, befitting a proper society girl. As I was saying, the sun was setting over the farm as we arrived in the Cadillac. Between the buildings, I could see the farmhands gathering for their evening meal, entering their building, while a group of Academy girls, in their colorful dresses, were wheeling a large, food-laden cart to the building. "Ahh," Kathy said, taking the car to a halt. "It seems we've arrived just in time for the evening meal. Scott, Wade, you can join them. Danny and I have to talk to Grandmama." The two large guys trotted over to the farmhands' quarters, while Kathy escorted me to Grandma Elise's apartment, above the main Academy. There was a long, wooden staircase leading upwards, and as we passed below it, I could see one of the Academy girls, done up in a pretty green dress, which marked her as one of the live-ins, ascending the stairs. From the angle I was approaching, I could tell that standing under it would afford a great opportunity to sneak a peek up the skirt of the girls. I filed this information away in my noggin for later use. "Hello, Aunt Kathy!" the girl, a redhead who was about fifteen, called happily. I could tell she would have waved, if she hadn't been carrying a loaded tray. "Hello, Wendy!" she called back. "How are you today?" "Great!" she said, as the door was opened by my grandmother, to let her in. Seeing us, Grandmother Elise smiled, and said, "Come on up, Kathy. We can all have dinner together tonight!" Grandmother was a very friendly older woman, but with a stubborn streak a mile wide. Once she had her mind set on something, she never, never backed down from it. The stubbornness paid off, too. Not only for herself, but for dozens and dozens of young ladies as well. The two of us ascended the staircase, and were soon in my grandmothers' private residence. The dining room was very opulent, and Rebecca was busily serving out the dinner--four places were set--while we sat down. I knew well enough that Wendy was the lucky student that was selected to dine with the Mistress--my grandmother--tonight. She looked delighted, flushed with girlish pride, as she set our places. "So, Danny," she said without preamble, "Your mother tells me you've been misbehaving." "Yeah, right," I said glumly. "So I get sentenced to Devil's Island. Without a trial." Grandmother Elise was a very strong woman, despite her age, and camouflaged by her very demure attire. She wore a black velvet dress, with a while lace collar and white lace-cap long sleeves, lace-trimmed and very elegant. As befitted a lady of her status. Her long, while hair was tied back with a black velvet bow. She laughed. "Hardly that, Danny," she said. "This is a sanctuary. A place that one can learn new values, and new skills." I smirked. "I'm going to be a farmhand," I pointed out. "Not one of your girly-girl students." "Perhaps you should be," she said, pouring herself some tea. "Some manners would be most beneficial to you." Wendy, who was now sitting at the table as well, giggled under her breath. I wanted to slap her. "I would prefer going back to my father." Aunt Kathy slapped her hand against the table. "Your father is a drunk, a womanizer, a thief, and God only knows what else. You should be glad to be rid of him. You should thank your mother for getting you away from him." "I'd rather be with him." Grandmother Elise sighed loudly. "I can see we have a lot of work ahead of us," she said. "Why did you vandalize the Country Market, Danny?" "I don't know," I said. "It was because that nice boy, Tony, refused to sell him cigarettes, Mother," Kathy said. "Well, that is one disgusting habit that ends now, Danny," she said. "As well as that rock and roll music that is rotting the minds of fine young people. Wendy, here, has been studying piano and violin. She's quite talented. Perhaps she will consent to play for us when the dinner is over." Wendy smiled in delight. "I'd love to, Mistress!" she exclaimed. "I'm working on a Brahms piece now; the Mozart is more fun, though. Can I play that?" "Of course, darling Wendy!" Grandmother Elise said. "Won't that be lovely, Danny?" Aunt Kathy asked me. "Whatever," I sulked. "And that attitude must go, as well," Grandmother looked at me in disgust. "Before you are to be put back into the world, you will learn manners, and to appreciate the finer things life has to offer. You will be a better person for it." I wish she wouldn't treat me like one of her damn students, I thought meanly. The Farmhands Quarters were very spartan, indeed. Other than the dining room, which was empty when Aunt Kathy and Wade escorted me there, there was only the bedrooms upstairs, which consisted of only a bed, a chair, an empty bookcase, a night table, and a desk, all of which looked like it had been bought from the army. Some of the other farmhands, all of whom were my age or a bit older, introduced themselves to me, and expressed both how glad they were to meet me, and how lucky I was to be here, learning the farming trade. The single thing that really made me shudder was that even the youngest of the boys, who was fourteen-year-old Matt, was larger, and obviously tougher than I was. The boys were all friendly enough, but they were all very physically threatening. I sure as heck knew that I wouldn't be starting any fights here; any one of them could kick the crap out of me without even trying. And without exception, they all referred to Aunt Kathy as "Mistress Kathy". Only Wade and Scott were exempted from that tradition. "Now, now, boys," Aunt Kathy said, "It's time you all got to sleep. It's nearly nine o'clock. Lights out in ten minutes." The boys all smartly reported to their respective rooms, and closed their doors behind them. "Such good boys," Aunt Kathy said. "Anyway, here's your room. Keep it very clean, as there is likely to be a surprise inspection any time Mistress Elise or myself feels one is needed." "What do you mean, inspection?" I said acidly. "This is supposed to be my room, isn't it?" "Of course, silly," Aunt Kathy smiled. "But we must make certain no contraband of any kind is on the premises. Pot, pills, pornography, radios...they are all destructive to the mind and body." She and Wade moved to the door. "Unpack your things, Danny, and get some sleep. Wake-up call is at six a.m." "Goodnight, Aunt Kathy," I said, purposely ignoring Wade, her obvious thug. I was not expecting what happened next. Wade stepped forward, and slapped me, hard on the cheek. I reeled back, stunned, rubbing my reddened cheek. "What was that for?" I protested. I was seeing stars. "Mistress Kathy," Wade sneered. "You will always call her by Mistress, from now on. And that goes for your grandmother too. On the farm, and in the Academy, they are always called Mistress." "Wade," Mistress Kathy scolded him, "You didn't have to do that to prove a point. But, I have to admit, he probably won't forget it. Oh, and by the way, the senior girls are called by their names, plus the salutation Miss. Miss Paula or Miss Kelli, for example. The senior girls all wear an NAA pin; you can't miss it. Do you understand?" "Yes," I replied. "Yes, Mistress." The last thing I wanted to happen was to be slapped like that again! "Very well," she smiled. "I hope you will feel better quickly, Danny. Lights out in five minutes. Goodnight." The two of them moved to leave. "Goodnight Mistress." And with that, I was shut into the room. I sat on the bed for a moment, and sighed. Why did I break that damn window? I cursed myself. Now I have to deal with this hellhole for the entire summer. Looking out the window, I saw Wade and his mother--Mistress Kathy, I reminded myself--walking in the well-lit yards over to their house. I felt like giving them the finger. I did. And there was a knock on the door. I opened it and saw one of my fellow farmhands, who was smiling at me in a friendly way. He was a head taller than I, and outweighed me by thirty pounds of solid muscle. "Hi, there," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Gordon." "So? Is that supposed to mean something?" He looked offended. "Hey, boy. I didn't mean to rain on your parade. With an attitude like that, you won't make it here. The Mistresses expect us to co-operate with them, and with each other." Good, I thought. Then I'll be thrown out. "Look, Danny," he said. "If you pull your weight, you'll be treated fairly. If you don't, you get thrown out." "Look, Gordon," I sneered. "I ain't like one of you orphans. I'm a member of the Holliday family. I want to be thrown out of this bullshit operation. Nothing would please me more." "Well, then," he said. "You're already on your way out then. Have a good life, you big jerk." Gordon pulled the door closed behind him. The lights in the Farmhands Quarters went out, leaving me in the dark. "I hate this place," I said to no one in particular. But I knew that I would simply wash out, and be back home in a day or two, once mother calmed down. I slept for only about an hour all that night, thinking about my eventual freedom. There was no way that I could stand spending an entire summer in this place, I decided. There was no way they could make me stay. At six o'clock, as promised, there was a knock on my door. I turned over, and mumbled, "Go away! Leave me alone!" The door opened, and in came one of my fellow farmhands, another huge blond fellow whose name I didn't know, or care to. He picked me up by the arm, and pulled me out of the bed. "Hey!" I protested. "Listen, Danny," the young man said. He was fully dressed for the day, shirtless, with a pair of overalls over nothing. He had on a pair of work boots. Looking at him, I could see that he had more well-defined, powerful muscles than I knew a human body could possess. "I don't care whether or not you intend to stay here, and I don't care who you are. But you will be awake and at the table in fifteen minutes. Right?" Jesus! I thought. This guy, who I learned later was named Alvin, could easily knock the stuffing out of Scott or Wade by blowing his nose in their general direction. "Okay, okay!" I whined, tired as hell. "Good!" Alvin sneered. "Damn cityboy," he said. I dressed myself in a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and a white t-shirt. I combed out my long blond hair, and went downstairs. Even in my exhausted state, I could smell the bacon, eggs, and pancakes being served downstairs. My stomach growled, and I sat at the only vacant seat at the table. There were no less than three girls, two in Academy uniforms, and a brunette one in a red and white checked dress. Much to my chagrin, it was Andrea, the girl I had admired from afar, and had had very sexy dreams about. And I noticed that she sported an NAA pin as a senior. As the three of them waited on us, I managed to catch all three of the girls' names. There was Miss Andrea, of course, as well as Marianne and Cassie, both of whom were very pretty as well. But none of the girls were treated by any of the boys with anything but the most respect. All of them referred to the girls by name, and addressed Andrea by her proper title. I was truly appalled, but didn't mention it. Despite their rough exteriors, the guys were all trained to be perfect gentlemen. Being orphans, they were obviously afraid of being returned to some orphanage in the middle of nowhere. They were all, and please excuse the crass term, pussywhipped. As the breakfast ended, the girls dutifully cleared away the plates as Scott came in, to give us assignments for the day. He saved me for last. "Danny," he said, "You will help Gordon paint the Headmistress' house. You'll have to work up to the jobs the rest of us can handle. You'll find the paint and the brushes in the storage shack behind the livestock barn." With that, the guys all filed out of the house, leaving Gordon and I behind. I started up the stairs to my room. "Hey," he commanded. "Get down here, mister. We have some work to do." I turned and said. "Wrong-o, Gordo. I've got some sleep to catch up on." "Okay, you big dummy," he said. "Suit yourself. The Mistresses will be very disappointed in you, you know." I turned at the top of the stairs, and smirked. "I don't care," I said. Gordon waved his hand at me in disgust, leaving the Farmhands' Quarters. I went into my room, and plopped down on the bed, but not before I spied Miss Andrea, Cassie, and Marianne en route to the main house, wheeling the cart in front of them. I feel asleep and dreamed of girls. Pretty girls, willing girls. Around noon, I awoke again, refreshed, and ready to face the day. I went downstairs, led by my rumbling belly, and tried to scrounge up some food. But try as I might, I could find none in the house. Apparently, all of the food was kept in the building which also housed the kitchen. Disgusted, and starving, I got myself dressed, and headed to the large kitchen, which I knew was in the same building as the main Academy. As I approached, I smelled the delicious odor of baking bread, and hearty beef stew. I went into the kitchen, and surprised the four girls working there, preparing dinner for the farmhands. One of them, who was the only one with an NAA pin, smiled and said, "We missed you at lunch, Danny. You slept right through it." She was obviously unimpressed with my presence, and disappointed with my lack of initiative. "Anyway, dinner is at six o'clock sharp." With that, the girls ignored me, and continued to work, cooking and preparing the dinner. I shrugged, and took a bowl and a ladle, dished myself out a bowl of soup, took a few slices of fresh bread, and a cup of milk. "You realize, of course, that I will have to report this infraction, Danny," the senior girl said frostily. Later, I would learn that her name was Melanie. "Report away," I smirked. I left the building, and took my lunch outside, where I sat under a shady tree and watched Gordon paint the house. He looked at me accusingly. I laughed at him and called him a loser. My lunch finished, I left the cup, bowl, and spoon under the tree, and found the place with the most auspicious view on the farm, which of course was the view under Grandmother Elise's back stairway. I just sat there and waited, and within a few minutes, two of the girls, wearing their pretty dresses, came out of the apartment. One of the two was Andrea, the other was Patti. And since it was a very sunny day, I could see directly up their skirts! I grinned in lascivious delight. And then, Patti yelped. She had seen me, and she pointed me out. "EEEEEEEK!" Andrea immediately went back upstairs, and into Grandmother Elise's apartment. Patti cried for help, and Gordon came running. He arrived first, but was not alone. Three more of the boys followed, and when I tried to run, the four of them had no trouble catching me. Of course, I struggled, but it was no good. All four of the boys were tougher than I was, and when I did get an arm or a leg loose, they pretty much ignored my kicks or punches, and got hold of the offending limb again. In another moment, Grandmother Elise was coming out of her apartment, and looking at me angrily. "I'm very disappointed in you, Danny Holliday," she said. "We give you a chance to mend your ways, and this is how you repay our hospitality. Laziness, stealing food, and peeping up girls' skirts. Shame on you." "Screw you!" I screamed at her. "I can do whatever I want. If you don't like me here in your stupid little school, send me home." Grandmother Elise sighed. "As much as I would like to do that," she said. "I'm afraid it's impossible. You are too much for your mother to handle by herself, so you'll only get in trouble all over again." "What should we do with him?" Gordon asked. I struggled a little bit, but the four boys restrained me effectively. I wasn't going anywhere, just then. Grandmother Elise said, after a long pause. "Take him to the main barn. Strap him to one of the support beams. Then, get on with your work, and no matter what he says, you are to ignore him entirely. Mistress Kathy and I will discuss his punishment. With that statement, I found myself a few minutes later tied hand and foot to a support beam in the main storage barn. The boys taunted me a bit, calling me names; "Cityboy", "Hippie freak", and "Commie" seemed to be the limit to their imagination, however. Still, I was in utter humiliation; physically, I was outclassed. For three full hours, they left me there, shouting obscenities at the top of my lungs, and using every scrap of foul language I could dredge up. Finally, I was too hoarse and exhausted to continue. Once in a while, one of the farmhands, or one of the Academy girls, would poke their head in and laugh at me. I snarled back. The situation was impossible. There was nothing I could do. The sun set, and I was left in the dark, alone in the smelly barn, still lashed to the unmoving beam. And then, the lights went on. Aunt Kathy, Grandmother Elise, Scott, and Wade entered the barn. Aunt Kathy was carrying an ornate cardboard box. I looked up at them and sneered. "You can't do this to me." "It seems we already have," my grandmother pointed out. "Looks like we knocked some of the fight out of him," Wade observed. "Eat shit," I retorted. "Danny," my aunt asked reasonably, "would you like to be let go of?" "What do you think?" I said, sneering. "From your attitude," she said, "It looks like you will be spending the night here." "You wouldn't dare." Scott laughed out loud with his brother. "You are not the first kid to do time in the barn. Wade was tied up for three days, once. Stole a candy bar." "I sure learned my lesson," Wade said. "Never did that again." "And Gordon did two days for pinching Marianne's butt," Scott said. "Face it, Danny. You've got to straighten up and fly right." "And since you seem to dislike the life of a farmhand, you will begin to attend the girls' classes. That way, you'll at least learn something while you are here. You will make an excellent seamstress, I think. And you need piano lessons." "And that's why we've brought you some presents," my grandmother said. I looked at her questioningly. "You see," Aunt Kathy said, "We cannot just bounce you out. You are, regrettably enough, family. Therefore, we needed to come up with a suitably humiliating, but gentle punishment, to keep you in line at all times." She put her box on the floor of the barn, and opened it. And then, she took out a brassiere and a pair of panties. They were both shiny pink nylon, trimmed in lace; the ultimate in feminine frivolity. "Therefore," she said, holding up the items, "we have decided to have you wear girls' under things for the duration of your stay. You obviously like looking at them; so wearing them should be just your cup of tea." "No," I protested. "There's no way I'm going to wear girls' underwear." "Oh, yes you are," said Grandmother Elise in a very matter-of-fact way. "Bras, panties, a garter belt, nylons. You will wear them all the time." "And if you don't," Scott grinned widely, "You spend the night in the barn." Aunt Kathy explained. "At any time, we may inspect you to make sure you have on the proper dainties. Of course, we will all make efforts to keep your little secret, unless of course you get out of line. If at any time you are not wearing the proper girls' undies, you spend the night here. We have taken the liberty of removing all of your male underwear from the premises. Of course, you will have to get up a little earlier than your housemates to put on your pretty new undies without them all seeing you." "You don't want them finding out you like to wear things like that," Wade laughed. "You can't make me do this," I pleaded. "You can," Grandmother Elise stated plainly. "And you will. That is final." She nodded her head, and handed Scott a pair of scissors. "Besides, with your long hair, I'd be surprised if you aren't wearing panties under those pants now," he said. With Wade holding my legs in place, Scott cut my pants, along with my boys' underwear, clean off. They removed my shirt the same way. Finally, my shoes were removed, but I was still securely tied to the support beam, fully nude, and humiliated beyond belief. Goosebumps formed on my skin. In the country, even in June, the nights could be very cold indeed. "It sure would be embarrassing for the boys, or the girls, to find you like this, naked and freezing tomorrow morning. You are likely to catch cold," Aunt Kathy pointed out. My teeth stared chattering. "Please," I whined. "Don't make me do this." "I would say that its' too late for you to talk your way out of this," she replied. "You are to wear girls' underwear, and that is that. Do you understand, Danny?" "And don't get any ideas about scrounging up some of your fellow farmhands' things, either," Grandmother Elise said. "If you are ever caught in male under things, I've given permission for Wade and Scott to do whatever is necessary to make you see things our way." "That means we can beat the tar out of you," Scott translated unnecessarily. With that, my Aunt Kathy stepped forward, and slipped my first pair of panties on me. As I said, the panties were made of shiny pink nylon, and were very cool to the touch, a feeling that was even more pronounced in the cold Wisconsin night air. The waistband circled me firmly once they were in place. The lace on the panties' leg openings were slightly scratchy; there was no doubt in my mind that that was intentional. Only the bulge formed by my shrunken privates revealed any masculinity in the appearance of my hips. Next, while I watched in horror, a matching pink garter belt was placed around my waist, and its' four tabs were threaded through my new panties. Wade and Scott looked on in amusement as Aunt Kathy drew out a pair of light pink nylon stockings from the box, and rolled them neatly up my legs, hooking them up to the tabs on the garter belt. Instead of feeling even slightly warmer, every movement of my nylon-imprisoned legs seemed now to bring a cool wind against their skin; it was as if the skin on my legs had their sensitivity increased threefold. Next, my feet were slipped into a pair of girls ballet-style slippers, also in pink. There was a cute little bow on the tops of them, as well, to add an extra, very girlish touch to them. And while they were definitely not meant for warmth, they were the closest thing to a warm garment I was wearing. My cheeks, however were hot with humiliation. I was being transformed into a she-male, while they all watched in amusement! "Cut him loose," Aunt Kathy instructed Scott. "Wade, hold him. Make sure he doesn't try anything stupid." Once that was done, I tried to make a break for it, but Wade grabbed me in a crushing bear-hug, and squeezed all the air from my lungs. As I gasped for breath, Wade whispered in my ear threateningly, "If I have to do this again, Danny, I will be very mad at you. You don't want that, do you?" I shook my head. "Now," he said. "I'm going to let you go. You are going to do everything the two Mistresses require you to do, without question. Is that clear?" I nodded, beaten. Perhaps if I co-operated, this would go faster, I thought. Wade released me. I didn't move. Aunt Kathy stepped forward, holding out the lacy bra. "Put your arms in there, darling," she instructed. "Then, turn around." I obeyed, and when I turned, the lacy pink bra was closed in place, imprisoning my chest, just as my legs, in femininity. The feeling of the bra straps against my skin were a bit uncomfortable, and that must have showed, for Aunt Kathy said, "Your first bra is always a bit of a shock, darling. In a week or two, you'll be quite accustomed to it." I don't think so, I thought to myself. I'm getting out of this place as soon as I can. And there's nothing these bitches and their asshole flunkies can do to stop me! I was already making my plans to escape. "And last but not least," Aunt Kathy said, reaching into the box for the final time, "Your nightie. You will wear a nightie to bed each night, darling. Once again, if we find you lapsing on this point, you will spend the night in the barn." She produced a transparent pastel-pink, lace-trimmed babydoll nightie from her box. She stepped forward, and instructed me to hold up my arms, which I did as she pulled the garment over my head, and into place on my body. The sleeves were short, puffy, and trimmed with pretty lace at the arm. The bodice of the nightie was abbreviated just below the bra line, its' dainty, triple-tiered full skirt had dainty lace trim on the hem of each delicious hem. But even with its' three skirts, the lowest hemline was just above the tops of my stockings, barely covering my panty-clad bottom. All-in-all, it completed the outfit of a naughty teenage girl, who was out to seduce herself a young man, and I was made to wear it! "There," Aunt Kathy said, stepping back to get a good look at me. "That's not so bad is it now?" "You look quite sweet, Danny," Grandmother Elise said. "You may go to your room now." The two boys chuckled at my predicament. I swallowed. "Dressed like this?" "Of course, darling," she said. "What if someone sees me?" I was appalled at the idea. Anybody, who was looking out one of the windows of any of the houses on the farm, could easily see me, dressed in girly-girl under things, running across the well-lit farmyard. "I would say that's a risk you'll just have to take, Danny," Aunt Kathy said. "I'd be very quiet going into the farmhands' quarters, though. I couldn't imagine how embarrassed I would be, if I were you, and someone were to see me dressed as you are now, in sexy girls' undies. I would tippy- toe my way there if I were you," she concluded in a very patronizing tone of voice. With that, Scott and Wade each took me by an arm, and escorted me out of the barn, followed by my aunt and grandmother, who closed the barn doors, and locked them for the evening. And there I was, wearing only my new light pink girly-girl under things, and totally exposed to the world. And even thought it was dark outside, in the well-lit area between the buildings, it would be very easy to see me from any of the buildings on the farm. My four captors, however, decided to ignore my plight totally. They bid me goodnight, and started off to their respective homes. I could see that there were lights on in every building, except for (thank heavens!) the farmhands' quarters. Still, to avoid being seen, I quickly pranced behind the barn, and around the backs of all the buildings. It took my eyes a while to adjust, but I thought it was the safest course of action. There was a slight breeze in the night air, which made the nightie flow prettily and gauzelike in its grasp. I was appalled to be wearing such a feminine concoction, but there was nothing I could do about it at the time. Unfortunately, there was only one way to get into the farmhands quarters, and that was through the front door, which was easily seen by anyone looking out a conveniently-placed window in any of the other buildings. Before stepping into the light and revealing myself, however, I made sure I could see no one standing in any of those windows. I tiptoed to the front door, and listened at it to insure no one was on the other side of it before I opened it a crack. I peered inside, and saw no one. I looked back, and much to my horror, I saw the figure of someone silhouetted against a second-story window in the girl's quarters. Damn! I thought, slipping through the door as quietly as I could. There was no way that whoever it was in the window had not seen me, all decked out in my sexy girls' outfit, sneaking into the boys' quarters. Carefully, I closed the door, and crept up the stairs, trying not to make any noise. I quickly, and quietly trotted down the hall, praying that none of the other farmhands would open their doors, or have to go out for a drink of water, or to the toilet. Luckily for me, it didn't happen, and I was safe in my room, and secure under my covers, still wearing the clothes that I didn't dare remove. I wished there was a lock on my door. I didn't sleep for a long time. And when sleep finally did claim me, I was still in the sexy outfit I was forced to wear. There was a knock on my door at five-thirty a.m. Groggily, because I had only about three hours of sleep, I awoke, still clad in my dainty undies. Panicked, because I suddenly realized that it may have been one of my fellow farmhands at the door, I called out. "Don't worry, Cityboy," came Scott's rough, masculine voice. Barging in, he closed the door, and pulled my covers away from my femininely-clad body. He whistled meanly. "Say there, Cityboy," he snickered. "You sure look cute in your little nightie." "Scott," I pleaded. "Don't make me do this. Only you and I will know that I'm not in girls' underwear." "Sorry, Cityboy...Citygirl, I should say. I've got my instructions," he said, resentfully. "I had to get up a half hour early to make sure you're dressed up in your girly things. So you will be wearing girly things. Now, get dressed. Aunt Kathy wants to see you." I took off my nightgown, and placed it in the hamper at the foot of my bed. Next, I moved to don a pair of jeans, but before I could, Scott pointed out that I couldn't wear the same undies two days in a row. So, ashamed beyond reason, I stripped naked, and donned a new pair of purple satin panties, a matching bra, a white lace garter belt and white stockings under his watchful eye. Once in a while, he laughed under his breath. I could tell that he thought that he had me in a spot, laughing like that. Little did he know that I was already making plans to escape from this feminizing, emasculating hellhole. Once my under things were properly put in place, I was allowed to don my blue jeans, while socks, blue flannel shirt, and sneakers. It was about that time that three of the girls were ready to serve the farmhands their breakfast downstairs. Under Scott's watchful eye, I ate with all of the other guys, who seemed completely unaware of the girlish secret I was hiding under my clothing. I, on the other hand, was constantly aware of my predicament. I could feel my bra straps as I reached for the maple syrup. If I looked down at my legs, I could see little lumps tenting my pants where the garter belt I wore held up my stockings. Still, I tried to focus on my plans to escape. If I could just get to my mothers' house, and explain what humiliations I was experiencing here, I knew that she would take me back into the house, and all this will be forgotten. Hell, perhaps by showing her how crazy her family could get, I could convince her that getting back together with dad was a great idea! While I was breakfasting with the other guys, I wondered who it was who had seen me the night before, sneaking into my quarters in my feminine guise. All of the serving girls--Anne, Marcie, and Miss Roberta--were smiling and happy-sounding. But none of them treated me any differently than they did the other boys. So, I was sure that none of them knew my secret. But I knew that it could be revealed at any time! First of all, anyone who went through my dresser drawers, or my laundry hamper, would discover my new dainties. And there was no way to minimize that risk; none of the bedroom doors had locks. Secondly, if the girl who saw me last night decided to tell, I would be revealed as well. I lost my appetite, thinking of all the potential dangers that could reveal me as a sissy-in-training. Once breakfast was done, the guys all took off to their days' tasks, and the girls began cleaning up the dishes. On the other hand, I was escorted by Scott to the main building, and left at the door of a small classroom. Upon entering, I saw that there were two upright pianos in the room, with a U-shaped bench between them so that the two pianists were sitting back-to-back. Through the window, I could see the rolling fields of the farm outside, cows grazing in the sun. I wished I could be out there now, making my getaway. Already sitting at one of the benches was a pretty brunette girl I had never seen before. She was my own age, and she wore a pretty, green pastel-colored floral dress, with a white lace Peter Pan collar. She turned and smiled at me, and I saw her lovely, chocolate-brown eyes. Perhaps, I could sit through one lesson, I thought, seeing how pretty she was. I could feel a stirring in my purple satin panties. "Good morning, Danny," the teacher said. She was one of the Senior Girls, who was wearing the traditional NAA blackwatch-plaid jumper dress over a frilly white blouse. She too, was a brunette, with brown eyes, but she was nowhere near the vision of beauty her female student was. "My name is Miss Janet, and this is Amy." They both got up, to greet me, and Amy curtsied daintily. There was a moment of awkward silence. "No curtsy, Danny?" "Curtsy?" I was puzzled. "Mistress Kathy instructed me to treat you as any girl, since you are now a student here at the Academy. Therefore, you will treat me, as well as your other teachers, with the traditional respect of the Academy. You will therefore curtsy exactly like any of the girls." I sighed in disgust, and turned to leave. Then, the outline of Scott against the translucent window in the door changed my mind for me. I turned about and curtsied, just as I had observed Amy doing only a minute before. "Very good, Danny," she said. "Now, have a seat, and I can give you two girls your first lesson." I have to admit that Miss Janet referring to me as a girl made me want to get up and leave, but the threat presented by my cousin outside the door made me think the better of protesting. If Miss Janet wanted to refer to me as a girl, I guess I had to let her. It was better that the alternative. But once the lesson began to progress, I was quickly fascinated with the keyboard in front of me. Miss Janet taught us where "middle C" was, and the two of us were off and running. This piano stuff was easy, far easier than I had ever imagined. In fact, I was picking up the basics rather quickly, leaving Amy behind. By the end of the lesson, two hours later, I had even learned to play a (very choppy) version of "Chopsticks", and was actually sorry when the lesson ended. Perhaps I had gained an understanding of music from the radio. Or perhaps it was me, trying to forget what was under my male clothing, and concentrating on the music more, as a result of wearing a bra and panties. In all honesty, I didn't know. Still, once the lesson was over, I was told by Miss Janet to report to the kitchen, to help prepare lunch. Amy and I left the small classroom, and once the two of us were out in the hallway, I noticed that Scott was nowhere to be found. "You are really lucky, Danny," Amy told me, looking through me with those lovely dark eyes of hers. "I didn't think a boy would ever become an Academy Girl...I mean student." "I wasn't lucky until just a few hours ago," I said. She blushed prettily. She likes me! I thought triumphantly. Maybe when I was back in my normal underwear, I would come back and try to get things moving with this pretty young thing, I decided. Still, first things first. I managed to lose myself in all the hubbub of an average day at the Holliday estate, and soon made my way into the woods surrounding the farm. It was a beautiful, sunny day in the woods, and with the birds singing in the trees, and the wind rustling through the leaves, I could see why people wanted to live here. But I still preferred the city, and wanted to get back to it. Briefly, I toyed with the notion of removing my girly-girl undies, but I reluctantly vetoed it. I wanted my mother to see just what it was her crazy relatives were doing to me, and the best way I could do that was to show up at the house and show her personally. As much as I disliked the idea of hitchhiking home dressed as I was, I simply had to do it. When I reached US 41, going into Jericho, I began walking backward, with my thumb up. A car passed. A second car passed as well. The driver, seeing my long hair, couldn't stop himself from calling me a "Filthy hippie!" as he too drove past. Then, from the opposite way, I heard the siren. It was the police! Surely, they hadn't yet noticed at the farm that I was gone, and even if they did, there was certainly no law preventing me from running away from people who were forcing me into wearing girls' underwear! The police car came to a halt, and no less that two officers got out of it. One of the cops was Sgt. Olson, the other was some rookie whose name I can't recall. "So, Danny," Olson said, recognizing me, "You are breaking the law again. For the second time this week, I might add." "What?" I yelped. "No!" With that, the two officers seized me, and spread-eagled me against their car. Over my protests that I had done nothing wrong, I was informed that hitchhiking was illegal, and I felt myself being frisked. I froze in absolute terror as my shirt was pulled up over my head, and the purple satin brassiere I was made to wear was revealed. "Well, well, well," Sgt. Olson remarked. "What have we here?" "They made me wear these things!" I yelped. "I had no choice! They want me to be a student at the Academy!" "Oh, really?" he said, doubtfully, spinning me around. "You said, 'these things', son. Drop your pants, boy." "What?" I was turning white with fear. "Drop your pants," he repeated. Humiliated, and ashamed beyond words, I did as he asked, and my secret was revealed. My lace garter belt, panties, and stockings were in the policeman's plain view. I tried to protest, but my mouth was dry with fear, and I could say nothing. "Wow," said the rookie cop. "I've heard of this kind of thing, but I never thought I would actually meet one." "One what?" Sgt. Olson asked. "A freak?" "A transvestite," the rookie said. "A man who likes to dress up as a girl. I heard about it in college. Psychology class." "For God's sake, boy," Olson sneered at me. "That explains the long hair." "Guess so," the rookie replied. "Most of them like doing the whole female get-up, though." The policemen took pity on me and allowed me to hide my undergarments under my male clothing. Then, I was told to get into the back of the police car, and after I did, I found that both of the rear doors of the car were locked, and a steel mesh netting separated the two seats. The two cops got into the front seat, after discussing outside--where I couldn't hear them--what to do about me. Once a decision was made, I was being escorted back into Jericho, and finally, to the place I wanted to be the most--home. It never looked so good. Hearing the police car coming up the driveway, my mother was on the porch, and she talked to the policemen while I was shut in the back of the car, once again unable to hear the proceedings. Finally, my mother was escorted to the door of the car, and I was let out. My mother hugged me, and I hugged her back, in relief. My life was getting back to normal! Involuntarily, I cried on her shoulder. She said, "There, there, Danielle. It's all over now." "Danielle?" asked the senior of the two cops. Danielle? I echoed in my thoughts. What the heck? My mother hugged me tightly, and told the officers, "Oh yes, Sgt. Olson. Ever since my new little girl started wearing these things, she's liked being called Danielle. Poor little thing is too frightened to admit it, though." I froze in terror. My mother was lying to the cops, trying to make them believe that I liked wearing these things! And how did she know what I was wearing under my male clothing? And as soon as I asked myself the question, I knew the answer. My mother was in cahoots with my other female relatives. She was well aware that I was forced into wearing these things! Perhaps she even suggested it! I struggled in her arms, trying vainly to get away, but I was far too weak from despair and fear. "I keep trying to tell her that there's nothing to fear, but she still won't wear a dress in a public place." "You let your boy put on dresses?" Sgt. Olson asked incredulously, while I bawled away like a child. "Oh yes," my mother confirmed. "Dresses, skirts, make-up...my Danielle is quite a little lady when she's all dolled up. Aren't you, sweetie?" "NO!" I yelped. "They're all making me do this!" I broke free of my mother, and fled into the house, and into the sanctuary of my room. The officers tsk-tsked as I did, feeling sorry for the poor little boy/girl I was made out to be. There was no way they ever would believe my story of how I came to be hitchhiking while wearing girly-girl undies, and my mother was fuelling the fires of their imaginations! The policemen were totally convinced that I wanted to be, to act, and to dress up like a girl! I fell on my bed, and wept piteously, praying that the series of multiple humiliations would end. But it was not to be. As I wept on the bed, my mother led the two officers into the room, inv