Leprechaun Trickery (part 1 Of 3) free porn video

LEPRECHAUN TRICKERY by JENNIFER SUE Part 1 of 3 (For the reader's convenience, there is a directory at the end of part 3) Heath Lee Reilly appeared to be a ragamuffin freckle-faced lad. Unfortunately appearances can be deceiving for he was a problem boy. Academically he was a C student although if he ever applied himself to his studies he could easily be an A student. But he didn't want to be a good student and had absolutely no desire to hang out with the computer geeks. While Heath enjoyed sports, he wasn't strong or agile enough to really be good. When it came to picking teams, he wasn't the last to be chosen but he was certainly never in the first half of those selected. Working out and practicing becoming stronger and more agile were not things he wanted to do. The school jocks generally didn't give him the time of day and they certainly didn't want a loser like him hanging with them. The group Heath ended up being was with the wanna-be tough guys. At least twice a week he ended up in detention. His parents were frustrated with his lack of drive and inclination to get into all sorts of mischief. Parent- teacher conferences always boiled down to the fact that Heath was not living up to his potential and hanging with the wrong bunch of kids. At home he didn't want to do any chores. He had to be screamed at before he'd take out the garbage. His bedroom looked like a garbage dump. His clothes were baggy, oversized and patched. His sneakers were threadbare. He wore his scraggly fiery red hair well past his shoulders simply because he knew it irritated the hell out of his parents. Nothing his parents did ever suited him. Heath's parents were firmly in the upper-middle class. They really cared about their son but were so frustrated with his laziness and poor attitude they were ready to throw in the towel. His mother, Helen, 39, did not have a job but did extensive volunteer work. She did her best to keep their home clean and comfortable and was a great cook. She was a lady in every sense of the word. His father, Fred, 41, was a structural engineer for Balkut Engineering, a small but dynamic privately owned engineering firm. Year after year he hoped for a promotion to become a project manager but each opening seemed to go to one of the other engineers who had a little more experience in that particular area. While this frustrated him, his boss and owner of the business, Harry Balkut, 55, recognized Fred's skills and made sure his pay was always tops. Thus, the carrot always dangled. Heath had hit puberty at 13. The first sign was a growth spurt. In the summer of that year he grew from a chunky 110 pounds 4 feet 10 inch boy into a lanky 115 pound 5 feet 4 inch awkward teenager. Then came erections in the night and wet dreams. It didn't take long for him to build up a clandestine collection of pornographic magazines which he used to satiate his seemingly constant arousal. Naturally Bay Watch was his favorite TV show. By the time he reached 14, his voice was at that awkward stage where it would crack at the most inopportune times. Like most boys at his age and development, he could think of little besides sex and girls. Sex he could only dream about. Girls he could only look at since no girl gave him a second glance and the few times he asked a girl out they laughed in his face. The only relief he could obtain was by his own hands. And look he did. At every opportunity. Last year just before completing the eighth grade he even snuck into the girls' locker room but could find no place to hide. He hurriedly fled when he heard the girls returning. During the summer on cloudy nights he'd lock himself into his bedroom then slip out the window to wonder about his neighborhood attempting to peer into the windows of the prettier girls and women. A few times he did manage to catch sight of some curvy flesh. More often, however, he encountered a not too friendly dog. Once he was chased by the cops but managed to escape. Still he persisted in vis voyeuristic adventures. He began the ninth grade on Wednesday. By Thursday he had already earned a session of after school detention. The afternoon was warm and bright. Heath was quite dejected. His love life was zilch. He had no close friends. As he walked out of the school, he just wanted to be alone to brood upon his meager existence. To avoid the other students meandering down the sidewalks, Heath decided to take a shortcut home. The path Heath chose was shorter in distance but the terrain was such that it would take him longer. That prospect didn't bother him since there was nothing for him at home except more nagging from his parents. Behind the school was a steep heavily wooded rocky hill. Abrupt cliffs and steep inclines were the reason the area had never been developed as had virtually every other area in his community. It was still virgin forest with many trees more than a hundred years old and quite a few considerably older than that. As he sought a path up the jagged face of the cliff behind the school, he was lost in his misery. Upon reaching the top he heard giggling happy girlish voices that sounded quite clear coming from his left. Curious because the cliff was also on his immediate left, he began to investigate. It took a few moments to pinpoint the exact location of the voices but he was unable to see anything through the dense foliage. Looking about for a better vantage point he saw an ancient oak tree with a trunk at least eight feet in diameter. The old oak towered above the smaller trees rooted lower down the rugged cliff face. About twenty feet up was a crotch formed by six branches spreading in different directions. A smaller tree had fallen against the mighty oak and the eight-inch trunk formed a ramp up to the crotch. After scrambling up the fallen tree trunk he stood in the sizeable crotch of the oak and looked in the direction of the voices. The line of sight was unobstructed and to his delight he spied the cheerleaders practicing! Now the school officials were well aware how fascinated many of the teenage boys were with the cheerleaders. In an effort to keep the leering voyeurs at bay, the administrators had enclosed a flat grassy area behind the school building at the base of the inaccessible wooded cliff with a twelve-foot high brick wall. The girls practiced their routines inside, safe from the prying eyes of sex-starved teens boys. Because of this security, they were considerably less inhibited. About half the girls wore body hugging leotards. The others wore skin tight biker shorts and matching really snug sports bras. The girls also often engaged in quite lewd spirited play. They tried to outdo each other in their ability to utilize their tantalizing teenage girlish charms to strike provocative poses. What Heath discovered that day was every horny boy's dream. The perfect spot that overlooked the enclosed practice area allowing an unblemished view of the sexy cheerleaders while they practiced. At the same time he was camouflaged by the trees so the cheerleaders would never spot him. Needless to say the boy was delighted. Even at a distance of 200 feet he could see enough to excite his lust. He settled into the crotch of the tree as if it were an easy chair and opened his fly. By the time the cheerleaders finished their practice, so had Heath. Harry Balkut also had a rather significant day. A little after noon while on an extended executive lunch he suffered a fatal heart attack in the bed of his 18 year-old mistress. The news swept through the stunned office like a wild fire. No one was really surprised since they all knew Harry's predilection for sexy young girls. Most people assumed that when his wife had fatally overdosed on sleeping pills 15 years ago it had been out of frustration due to Harry's incessant philandering. That death had put a severe strain on the relationship between Fred and Harry. The two couples had been close friends. Most of the men in the office knew that Harry had often claimed he wanted to die with a smile on his face in the bed of a hot girl. The main concern of most of the employees was what would happen to the very successful business. If it was sold, how would that affect their jobs? The only relative and most likely the sole beneficiary of Harry's estate would be his estranged daughter Hillary. Unfortunately, no one in the office knew a thing about Hillary since she had left home at 16 just after her mother's funeral. Fred Reilly came home with a heavy heart. His friend and boss was gone. Not only that, but he was greatly concerned about his job security. What would the new owner do with a highly paid employee with 17 years of experience who never managed a project? Helen was making supper when Fred entered the kitchen to give her his welcome home hug and receive her welcome home kiss. Before he could even tell her about his terrible day, she broke into tears of frustration over Heath. The school had called to inform her about Heath earning detention on the second day of classes. This was more than Fred could take. With his face beet red he stormed from the kitchen to Heath's bedroom. Helen had never seen Fred so angry and meekly followed. Without knocking he barged right into the room to discover Heath naked sitting against the headboard of his bed. A well worn heavily stained porno mag was lying open on his lap since his hands were otherwise occupied. Heath gasped in surprise but was unable to stop his eruption. As Fred stopped short, Helen bumped into him. Both witnessed Heath's all too healthy ejaculation splash all over the naked centerfold. Both parents were shocked. In a blind fury Fred stormed to the bed and slapped Heath across the face. "So this is why you can't do your homework," Fred ranted as he snatched the soggy magazine and shook it in front of Heath's face. Droplets of semen sprinkled from the fluttering pages to land all over the naked teen and his bed. A bright red hand print appeared on the side of Heath's face as tears of pain and terror filled his eyes. Helen was simply unable to cope with the situation and just placed her hands over her face and fled from the room in tears. "You little snot nosed son of a bitch," Fred yelled as he flung the sticky magazine onto Heath's chest. "This is the thanks your mother and I get for giving you everything. You filthy pervert! What do you think your mother thinks of you now? This smut... in our house... after getting detention on the second day of school! Your ass is grass, boy! Clean this filth up... NOW! I want every filthy magazine or book you have in the trash can. If you have any cigarettes or drugs, they better be in there too. I want a full accounting of every piece of shit you have. I'll be back in an hour so you can show me what you have. Then I'm going to search this room from top to bottom. May heaven help you if I find anything! I'll decide what your punishment will be after I've seen everything. Maybe by then I'll be calm enough not to strangle you!" With that he turned to leave but stopped in the door. "If you try to sneak out your window, I will kill you," Fred brusquely whispered through clenched teeth. "Officer O'Brien called me two weeks ago to see if you were home. He thought he spotted you peeping into windows over on Jefferson street. I told him it had to be some other boy since you were in your room. After he hung up, I checked your room. You weren't here and your window was open. I was outside when you came sneaking home to crawl back inside. If you want to call the cops about child abuse, think about that first." Fred turned and slammed the door. Helen was still in the hall outside the bedroom. Her sobbing had stopped but tears still trickled down her cheeks. She had not wanted to stay in the room during the confrontation between Heath and Fred, yet she was afraid to go too far away in case Fred flipped out and began to beat Heath. As a result, she heard everything that ad been said. Her son was not only on his way to becoming a complete delinquent. He apparently was also well on the way to becoming a pervert! She knew she had to do something to turn Heath around but was at a total loss about what to do. Heath sat on his bed trembling. His dad knew about his peeping. He caught him masturbating. His mom had seen him doing it. He knew he was dead meat. If he didn't get all his illicit stuff together and his dad found it, he knew whatever punishment he was going to get would be far worse than it was already bound to be. It would be hopeless to accuse his parents of chid abuse because they'd just turn him in for being a peeping Tom. In short, he was screwed. For the first time in months, Heath felt remorseful for his misdeeds. With tears trickling from his eyes and his left cheek stinging from the slap that had rattled his teeth, he grabbed some tissues and began to clean himself. It had been years since his dad had laid a hand upon him. Never before had he seen his father so lividly angry. Slowly he dressed, choosing clothes that fit and were clean rather than his normal oversized sloppy clothes. Then he pulled out his meager porno collection which he'd scavenged from trash cans. Then came his cigarettes which he really didn't like anyway. He only smoked because it was cool. For a while he thought about trying to hide his pot, but thought better of it and tossed the baggy full of weed into the waste basket. Then like a man awaiting the electric chair, he sat and waited. Helen anxiously followed Fred into the living room after he left Heath's room. She had been shocked to see her little boy doing that. She knew boys did those things, but had refused to face the possibility that her son would do it. She was also quite worried about Fred. Something bad had to have happened at work to set him off so harshly when confronted with Heath's detention. Fred purposely entered the living room. Without even looking at Helen who was silently following, he went to the liquor cabinet, took out his prized bottle of 20 year-old scotch and broke the seal. Helen watched in numbed silence as he put the bottle to his lips and chugged about a third of the golden nectar. She now knew something horrible had happened at work since Fred seldom drank and then only in extreme moderation. She also knew to keep quiet. When he pulled the bottle from his lips, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. With a loud belch and a deep sigh he looked at his fearful wife. "I'm sorry but you may as well not finish supper," he stated softly as he collapsed in his lounge chair. "After I check Heath's room, I'm going to get drunk... if I make it that long." With that he took another long slug from the bottle while Helen waited. "Harry had a heart attack in his girlfriend's bed. He's dead." Helen gasped. They had often joked about such a thing happening but had never really considered it likely. Now it had happened. She knew of Fred's worries about his job. They had often discussed what they would do if he lost his job with Balkut Engineering. She also understood Fred's blow up over Heath's detention. "I'll put the food away," Helen said softly. "I think we need to be together tonight." Fred glumly nodded and smiled weakly as Helen left the room. When the hour was up, Fred returned to Heath's bedroom. By that time he was feeling little pain and had drifted into a melancholy funk. Helen accompanied him. Heath was shocked to see his father was near drunk. Never before had he seen him that way. This only reinforced his fears and anxiety. "I'm sorry for slapping you earlier," Fred began in a slow and deliberate manner. "Harry Balkut died this afternoon. I may not have a job much longer. I'm afraid I took my frustration out on you. But son, you have been driving us to this point for the past two years. Is this everything?" Fred began to rummage through the waste basket. "Marijuana... cigarettes... porn... Fred mumbled as he searched. "This isn't what we expect from our son. But I suppose this is all you'll give us... heartache and stupidity. Can we ever expect more from you? We can punish you for this... but will it do any good? Your mother and I are at the end of rope. What do you have to say for yourself?" Heath was stunned. He never expected this. Rather, he expected a long tedious lecture... not brutal honesty. "I... I don't know," Heath stuttered. "I guess I never thought about it." "That's quite obvious," Fred replied sadly. "I'm willing to forget about all this and start clean. You'll be closely watched. I'll be searching your room and you without warning. If I find even a trace of this junk, we're through with you. Harry Balkut suggested I send you to a tough military academy last year when we first began to have serious problems. Now I'm ready to send you there. But we'll give you one last chance. No more detention, no more porn, no more cigarettes, no more drugs, no more trouble, is that clear?" Heath meekly nodded his head. "We also expect you to do better in school," Helen added. "Not straight A's, although that would be nice, but a few A's and a lot of B's. Can you do that for us and yourself? We love you and want to keep you home with us, but if you can't straighten up, we'll have no choice but to send you away." "I'll try," Heath replied softly. "Good," Fred snorted as he picked up the trash. "Now let's all get some sleep so we can start anew tomorrow." With that they all turned in for a rather sleepless night. Heath was scared. There had been no long lecture. There had been no spanking. There was only the warning to be good or else. Just the thought of a military school sent shivers through his body. With a sigh of surrender he decided he'd better toe the line for a while. At least until his father's concerns about work eased. He could survive without the cigarettes and drugs. After all he never really cared for them. Giving up the porn would be harder. But at least he still had his secret spot from which he could watch the cheerleaders. With these thoughts he fell asleep. Heath managed to keep his nose clean on Friday. After school... with no detention... he scurried to his oak tree outpost and snuggled into his nest with a pair of binoculars so he could see the cute girls better. Knowing this would be his only daily chance to relief his teenage angst, he took full advantage of the opportunity. That same morning, the day after Harry's death, Fred sat in his office nursing a tremendous hangover while trying to work. Kaye Gantz, the company's 50 year-old executive secretary, buzzed him to come to the conference room. As he left his office, he noted everyone else in the office was heading for the conference room. Something big was up. Upon entering the office he saw a beautiful blonde woman about 30 years old arrogantly sitting in Harry Balkut's chair. Fred joined the other men in silently drinking in the woman's natural beauty. She was dressed in a tight red business suit that showed of her voluptuous figure. Suddenly Fred recognized her. She was Hillary Balkut, Harry's estranged daughter! It certainly had not taken her long to return. Quietly he sidled to the back of the room and leaned against the wall. Once everyone was assembled, Hillary spoke. "I'm Hillary Balkut. I don't like beating around the bush so I'll be blunt. My father and I hadn't spoken in 15 years. Our estrangment was strictly personal and I will not go into details. Suffice it to say I hated his guts. Despite this, my father left everything to me. I now own Balkut Engineering. You each work for me. My father's funeral will be Monday morning. The office will be closed so everyone can attend. Business will resume on Tuesday." "I will be taking over the daily operations and have no desire to sell the business," Hillary continued. "I have a BA degree in business administration and a Master's degree in Engineering. I'm not some incompetent dummy you can slip things past. If you want to work for me, I'll expect you to work hard. In return, I'll pay you well, better than my father, but you will earn it." "I arrived early this morning and spent the time reviewing each of your records," Hillary stated. "I'm not satisfied with what I've seen. There are too many days off, too few hours worked, and too many deadlines missed. I've dictated my recommendations for each of you and Kaye will be typing them up. You'll receive your copies on Tuesday morning. I expect you to sign the recommendations and adhere to them. I want them back by Tuesday afternoon at 3:00. Anyone not returning the signed recommendations to me by then will be considered terminated with a one month severance pay. I still have a lot to review, so please don't bother me now. On Wednesday morning I'll hold a meeting for those of you who are still employed here. It will be an open session so bring your questions then. Thank you for coming. You may go." With that curt dismissal, the concerned employees filed out of the board room. Whispered worries about their individual future with the firm created a soft rumble. As Fred waited the others to leave, he thought back to the last time he had seen Hillary. It had been at her mother's funeral. The then teenage Hillary had been pale and silent. She had refused to stand next to her father at the grave site and had flinched when he touched her shoulder when it was time to leave. She had left home the next day. "Mr. Reilly, would you please come to my office," Hillary stated as she rose from the chair at the head of the table and headed for the door. Fred was surprised. Hillary's polite request was really an order. Fears that he was going to be fired immediately engulfed him. Yet he could not help leering at her shapely legs so tantalizingly revealed by her miniskirt and so enticingly accentuated by the 3 inch heels she wore. With tremendous anxiety, Fred resignedly followed, struggling to control the bulge in his trousers as his eyes irresistibly focused upon her sexily swaying backside. Hillary never looked back to see if Fred was following. She knew that he was there and what he was watching. Once inside her father's office, she sat in his chair behind his huge desk. Fred was relieved her gorgeous legs were once more hidden from his wanton view as he closed the door behind him as he entered. "Please have a seat," Hillary stated with a sad smile. "I'm going to be quite blunt and what I have to say is not to leave this office." Fred took the offered seat with growing concern. While he was not a chauvinist, it ate at him that his future was in the hands of this young woman. "I understand," Fred replied. "I will keep everything confidential from the staff. But I share all my concerns with my wife. If this is something you don't want her to hear, please don't tell me. "I'm glad you're still here," Hillary replied with a touch of relief. "You can relax. I have no intention of firing you. Your open honesty is quite refreshing. You and Helen were the only true friends my mother really had. I also know that after her death, you ended your social relationship with my father. I appreciate that, and I'd like to have you tell Helen what I'm going to tell you. I always felt that Helen was almost like an older sister. I'd like her to be a friend to me like she was to my mother. I need that." "Thank you," Fred relaxed and smiled weakly. "I was quite concerned. I'm sure Helen will be delighted to be your friend." "I apologize," Hillary stated. "I guess I have all the employees worried after my little speech. I did that on purpose to let them know that I'm the boss now. I have no intentions of firing anyone, but please don't let them know that." "You know the business better than anyone else except Kaye," Hillary stated. "But she is not an engineer. I need your expertise to help me keep the business running smoothly and at a profit." "I'll be glad to assist in any way I can," Fred nodded seriously. "I was sure you would," Hillary answered softly. "But first I feel compelled to tell you why my mother committed suicide. I've never told anyone what really happened. This isn't going to be easy so please bear with me." "I'll be patient," Fred replied gently. "Helen and I always suspected her death wasn't an accident." "It wasn't an accident," Hillary sobbed quietly. "Mother killed herself because of me... but it wasn't my fault... she knew how daddy kept chasing young girls... she never tried to stop him... she let it happen." Hillary broke down in tears. Fred felt his heart go out to the woman. With genuine sincerity he crossed to her chair and laced a comforting hand on her shoulder. Hillary reacted to his touch like a scalded cat. Angrily she flung his hand off her shoulder and stood facing Fred in a karate defensive stance. The anger that flashed in her eyes made Fred shiver. Fred put his hands up in an effort to fend off an attack by the she-devil before him. An expression of shock and fear filled his face. Hillary gasped then relaxed. "I'm sorry," she stated with a shaky voice. "Please, go back to your seat." Hillary wiped the tears from her eyes and sat in her chair. Fred cautiously returned to his seat but never took his eyes off Hillary. He worried that the young woman was schizophrenic. "What you just saw is part of what I have to tell you," Hillary explained in a tired voice. "I react like that whenever a man touches me. It goes back to my mother's death. As I said, my father had a thing for pretty teenage girls. I... I was not exempt from his... lust." Fred gasped. Never had he expected to hear this. Harry had molested his own daughter! It was unconscionable. "Hillary... I'm so sorry," Fred apologized. "If I'd have known... I'd have killed him...." "I know," Hillary replied. "That was one of the reasons I never told anyone. Mother knew... she tried to help me through the trauma, but he wouldn't stop him. Night after night... he came into my bedroom. Mother killed herself when I became pregnant." "Oh my God," Fred gasped. "That monster." "I left home the day after mother's funeral," Hillary continued. "Daddy paid for me to go to a private school that dealt with pregnant teens. I've waited and prepared for his death ever since I left. I had my baby... Leslie Lynn. I completed high school, and went on to college. I hired a nanny to raise Leslie while I studied and worked. Daddy paid for it all... dearly paid. I gave him no other option. You could call it blackmail, but I feel it was quite justified. I refused to talk to him or let him see his child/grandchild." "I'm hoping the funeral will let me put all my hatred behind me," Hillary added softly. "I don't know what to say," Fred replied honestly. "Of course I'll help you any way I can. But I think it would be better if you told Helen yourself. If you'd like, I'll call Helen and invite her to meet you for lunch at Guido's. You can get a private booth and tell her all about your father." "I think I'd like that," Hillary replied. "Does Guido still run the place?" "You bet," Fred chuckled. "He's a little greyer and has more of a paunch, but he still has the best Italian restaurant in the state." Helen was delighted to learn that Fred's job was secure and that Hillary was taking control of the business. When Fred told her that Hillary wanted to meet her for lunch at Guido's to talk about her mother, Helen knew a long awaited revelation was going occur. Helen was stunned to hear all that Hillary had to say about her parents and promised to be a good friend and confident. After quite a long discussion, it was decided the women would go to the Balkut home. Upon arriving, Helen first met the nanny Hillary had employed since the birth of her child. Joyce Moore was a plain woman now 28 years old. Judging from her appearance and demeanor the woman while not overly intelligent, was obviously a person who could firmly control any children placed under her control. After exchanging pleasantries, the efficient nanny left to bring Leslie to meet Helen. Helen was delighted to meet Leslie Lynn Balkut. Upon entering the room, the teenager responded to the introduction with a precise curtsey after which Joyce quietly left. The demure 14 year old pretty blonde lass was polite and well dressed. It was obvious from the loud rustling whenever Leslie moved that there were several full crinoline petticoats beneath her full skirted knee length pink satin dress since the skirt billowed saucily almost a foot from her slim legs. The Peter Pan collar was edged with a dainty ruffle trimmed in lace. The empire bodice demurely accentuated Leslie's pert girlish breasts without being outlandish. A two inch wide pink satin sash about her trim waist was tied into a quaint bow at the small of her back. The short sleeves ballooned about her slender upper arms to end in lace trimmed ruffled cuffs just above her elbows. Cute pink satin bows firmly secured the ends of the twin braids that hung down the front of her shoulders to her nipped in waist. Pert curled bangs whispered against her forehead accentuating her wide innocent baby blue eyes. A cute upturned button nose was centered between her naturally rosy cheeks. The only make up she wore was a delicate pink gloss on her sensuous full lips. Shiny black patent leather cross-strap Mary-Jane shoes adorned her feet and darling lace topped ruffled anklets adorned her slender ankles. All in all Leslie was the essence of dainty Victorian girlhood. Her flesh, where visible, was a delicate white porcelain china. "Well, Leslie, I must compliment you," Helen enthused. "You are a very delightful young lady. I didn't think girls like you existed anymore. I'm delighted to discover there is at least one." "Thank you, Mrs. Reilly," Leslie replied with a genuine smile accompanied by another curtsey. "I enjoy being a gracious young miss." Just then Joyce returned pushing a fully equipped tea cart. Without a word being said, Leslie politely excused herself for a moment. Going to the tea cart she pulled a ruffled pinafore style apron from a shelf hidden by the lace coverlet. With little effort that evidenced great practice, Leslie quickly donned the old-fashioned pinafore and served tea to an impressed Helen and her mother. When everyone had been served she carefully smoothed her full skirts as she sat daintily upon a straight-backed chair with her knees primly together and her hands folded demurely upon her lap. A few moments of polite conversation followed during which Leslie politely answered all of Helen's questions. The young girl attended a strict parochial school because the boys were much too uncouth at the public schools. Leslie loved her soft frilly clothes. Her favorite pastimes were playing the piano, dancing, and reading. She was also an avid doll collector. Once she opened up Leslie proved to be a very talkative girl. When Joyce coughed softly, Leslie blushed. "Please forgive for monopolizing your time," she stated primly as she rose from her seat. After refreshing the women's tea, she curtseyed sweetly once more and left the room to follow her nanny. "What a perfect young lady," Helen enthused. "I didn't know any girls like her still existed. You must be very proud of her." "I am proud of Leslie," Hillary replied with a smile. "I've instructed Joyce to make sure she is a prime example of sugar and spice." "Well you've certainly succeeded," Helen replied. "You don't know how often I wished for a daughter to pamper and spoil." "Leslie is pampered but not spoiled," Hillary replied. "I remember how you used to fuss over me whenever you'd visit. I loved the attention and knew I was like a little sister to you." "My, you certainly were perceptive," Helen sighed. "I plead guilty as charged." "I asked you here to have a very private conversation," Hillary stated quite seriously. "There's more to my story than I've told you and you must promise not to tell anyone, including Fred." "Of course, my dear," Helen replied seriously. "I could tell you were holding something back." "When I was at the home to have my baby," Hillary began. "I was 16, pregnant from my father, and my mother had just committed suicide. I was lonely, hurt, and angry. At first I lashed out at everyone. I was really miserable. Then I met Joyce. She was just 14 and like me pregnant. Her older brother did it, but when she told her parents, they blamed her and threw her out of the house telling her to never return. Now Joyce isn't the smartest person in the world. In many ways she's quite backward. But she is full of love. Somehow she found her way to the home, but only after two months of living on the streets. She lived solely for the baby she carried. She loved that unborn child since it was the only thing she had. I realized she was in far worse shape than me yet she had a goal in life... to raise her child. That knowledge snapped me out of my self-pity. I was still angry and hurt, but now I gained a purpose. That was to be a friend to Joyce. We became more than friends as our pregnancies developed. We became like sisters." "Joyce went into labor the same day I did. We shared the delivery room. I gave birth to Leslie. Joyce developed major problems. They tried to do a C-section but it was too late. Her baby was stillborn. She was so ripped up inside they did a hysterectomy on her. Joyce gave up. The only thing she had lived for was gone and she could never have another child. I stayed by her side as she recovered. She just laid there and waited to die. Nothing I did or said mattered. We returned to the home but she was like a bump on the log. They wanted to commit her but I begged them to wait. I was worn out trying to get Joyce to recover and taking care of Leslie. I think those two o'clock feedings almost killed me. Two days after I begged them not to commit Joyce, I slept through the night. At first I was scared something had happened to Leslie. But when I threw back the covers, and sat up, I found Joyce sitting in the rocker rocking the baby. She had taken care of the two o'clock feeding." "She knew her baby was dead and that Leslie was my baby. We cried in each other's arms. That's when I decided that I had to take care of Joyce. To do that I needed to become the breadwinner. That's when I contacted my father. I told him he either gave me enough money to rent an apartment for myself, the baby, and Joyce plus pay for my schooling and living expenses or I'd return home and tell everyone the truth. He came through. Joyce has been raising Leslie ever since." "That's wonderful," Helen replied as she dabbed tears from her eyes. "There is nothing wrong with that. I don't see why you don't want Fred to know." "This morning your husband joined the other men drooling over me," Hillary replied coldly. "I had hoped he wouldn't do that, but now I realize that he's just like all the others. Well, not quite. He didn't attempt to hit on me." "Fred would never do anything like that," Helen stated. "He was always quite disgusted with your father's philandering. Fred appreciates beautiful women, but he's devoted to me." "I know," Hillary answered. "For a man, Fred's probably as good as they get. That's where my other problem comes in. I hate men. I can't bear to have a man touch me. But I'm a very sensual person. I need love just like any other woman. Only I can never love a man." Helen sat silently for a few moments as she thought about what Hillary had said. Suddenly she gasped and her eyes grew wide. "Oh my God," she gasped. "You're one of those women... a le...lesbian? You and Joyce are lovers, right?" "Yes, I am a lesbian and Joyce is my lover," Hillary answered without flinching. "As you just saw, Joyce and I keep our relationship on a business level except in the privacy of our bedroom. I know how this town feels about lesbians. That's why I'd like to keep it a secret. Helen, I feel that you really are like an older sister. I'm not asking for your approval of my love affair but I would like your acceptance." "I don't know what to say," Helen replied clearly stunned by the unexpected revelation. "I've always thought of you as a kid sister and I really appreciate your reciprocation of those feelings. Of course your secret is safe with me, but... I just don't know if I can handle it." "That's all I'm asking for," Hillary answered. "But there is one other secret. This one is even more outlandish and I need your solemn vow never to reveal it to anyone." "There's more," Helen asked clearly surprised. "I don't know if I can handle anything more, especially if it's more outlandish than... you know. But I promise to keep it a secret." "Thank you," Hillary smiled weakly. "As I already said, due to my father's actions I can't stand to be touched by a male. I also cannot stand to touch a male. I realized this before I gave birth to Leslie. I dreaded the thought of having a baby boy." "I can understand that," Helen responded sympathetically. "It's a good thing you had a baby girl." Hillary blushed, sighed deeply, and looked at the floor. "Oh my God," Helen exclaimed as the bizarre truth hit her. "Leslie isn't a girl? But her face... her figure... she's so feminine." "Leslie is a girl mentally, just not physically... yet," Hillary replied softly with no obvious guilt. "But she thinks she's a girl. I knew I could never raise a son but I was unwilling to give up the child. I decided even before the birth to name her Leslie Lynn because the name was suitable for a boy or a girl. Once Joyce, Leslie, and I moved out of the home, it was easy to simply put the baby in dresses. Leslie has never worn pants. Over the years I did some discreet investigating. I found a highly skilled doctor who was eminently qualified to handle Leslie's special situation. What makes the doctor even better for handling delicate situations is that she's a woman and has no hang ups about the ludicrous idea of the superiority of males. Leslie was eight when she first saw Doctor Trate. Once Cassandra... that's Dr. Trate's first name... was assured that Leslie was a happy little girl and that I was dead serious about turning Leslie into a complete girl, she removed two tiny useless tumors from between her legs. Then she gathered all the loose flesh that was present and tucked it up inside her groin so that she appeared to be a normal girl. When Leslie was eleven, the doctor provided us with a prescription of female hormones. Leslie has been taking them ever since. As you saw, she's developed like a normal girl going through puberty except of course she's never had a period. Just this past summer we saw to it that Leslie had the surgery to become a complete female." "So she knows she's really a boy," Helen asked incredulously. "We told her last year before we arranged the surgery that she was a very special and unique girl," Hillary replied. "When her classmates complained about their periods, she had no idea what they were talking about. We had to tell her the truth. I told her everything, including the fact that her father and grandfather were the same man. She was upset at first but only because she wasn't a real girl. In fact, she was glad that she hadn't been raised as, in her own words, a 'yucky boy'. She's been very understanding and realized I had done the only thing I could do. She has fully accepted her fate as a girl. After all, she only knows life as a girl. Besides, the castration and the female hormones have destroyed her masculinity. Even if she wanted to try to become a man, it's impossible. What's left of her male parts are shriveled up and totally useless." "I don't know what to say," Helen replied candidly as she tried to take everything in. "I've heard of things like this happening on some of those bizarre talk shows. But this is the first time I've KNOWN it to be true." "I understand how difficult this is for you," Hillary answered. "I just hope we can renew our friendship. That's why I had to tell you." "I appreciate your honesty," Helen said finally. "I'm going to need a few days to think this all over." "I know," Hillary replied. "You always were a ponderer. Will you be coming to the funeral?" "Of course," Helen responded. "I wouldn't miss seeing that bastard buried. After all, your problems are really his fault." "I was hoping you'd see things that way," Hillary replied. With that the women hugged and parted. Fred was the first one home. Heath arrived home shortly thereafter. Heath assured his father he'd stayed out of trouble that day. Heath breathed a little easier as his father laid into him about all the junk he'd had in his room. That meant things were going better at work. Heath promised to try to do better. It was after six when Helen made it home. The weekend was very tense in the Reilly home. Helen's secret knowledge about Hillary and Heath's problems, Fred's knowledge of Harry Balkut's indiscretions and Heath's problems, and Heath with his problems and the lack of opportunities to relieve his tensions all combined to make a short fused terse relationship. Helen found herself thinking about Leslie. The child was a very pretty girl. She represented everything she'd always wanted in a daughter. The fact that she was the same age as Heath only made her son's problems seem worse. Leslie was such a polite well-behaved girl while Heath was an insufferable slovenly boy. Every time she saw Heath or thought of his problems she compared his irreverent macho attitude to that of demure Leslie. The longer the weekend went, the more she understood why Hillary had raised the child as a girl. Helen began to think that if she had to do it all over again, knowing the problems that awaited raising a son, she'd raise Heath as a girl! Once this thought occurred, the next thought came as a matter of logical progression. She began to wonder if it was too late to turn Heath into a sweet daughter. After all, he was just entering male puberty. Most of the obvious physical manifestations had not yet appeared. If she were to slip him some female hormones, perhaps she could derail his masculinity and supplant it with demure girlishness. Maybe she could even take him to the doctor Hillary had found. But that idea was simply too wild to even consider not to mention the fact that Fred would never go along with transforming his son into a girl. Of course, there was an alternative. The fact that she had a complete hysterectomy five years before only made her daydreaming about turning Heath into a girl even more viable since she had a prescription of female hormones for herself. All she had to do was get a second prescription from her doctor. That would be easy, she'd just tell him she was switching pharmacies. Then she could at least partially do to Heath what had been done to Leslie. The thought of seeing perky little breasts budding from his chest made her feel warm inside. The idea was very tempting, especially when Heath was being his normal callous boyish self. Monday finally arrived. Heath was allowed to stay home from school to attend the funeral. That was a bit of consolation since Heath hated getting dressed in a suit. Wearing a tie was really the pits. But he knew he had no choice. The viewing was held at one o'clock with the funeral at three. Despite his interests in the macabre, Heath really didn't want to go see a dead man. Still, he obediently followed his parents as they got in line to file past the casket. He had no idea what he would say to Hillary Balkut and her daughter Leslie. As they slowly made their way through the line, Heath let his mind wonder. All weekend all his mother talked about was Leslie Lynn Balkut. She couldn't get done talking about how pretty she was and how nicely she dressed. Every time he did something his mother didn't like, which was practically everything, she sighed and dreamily told him how Leslie was so polite and well behaved. Heath didn't think too much of his mother's opinion about what constituted a pretty girl. He certainly couldn't imagine any girl being as much of a goody two shoes as his mother claimed for Leslie. As they neared the casket Heath overheard other people saying how nice Harry Balkut looked, like he was sleeping and would wake up at any moment. Heath almost chuckled as he thought about how fast the place would clear if Harry Balkut suddenly sat up. When it was their turn, Heath looked closely at the body while trying to see what the others were seeing. In Heath's opinion Harry Balkut didn't look like he was sleeping, he looked dead. Looking at the dead man gave Heath the willies. As they turned to pay their respects to the family, Heath almost tripped over his feet. The woman, dressed in a slinky low-cut black dress that showed her body and legs to great advantage, was gorgeous. She had to be Hillary Balkut. Heath felt a most unsolemn stirring inside his dress slacks as his pulse quickened and his breathing became labored. Heath tried to politely shake her hand but found he couldn't take his eyes off the soft white flesh of her cleavage. It was only when Hillary softly cleared her throat and squeezed his hand that he flushed and turned to see the wonder girl. The blonde girl was a total knock out! He hastily decided his mother's lavish praise hadn't done her justice. Heath was so stricken with Leslie's beauty that this time he did trip over his feet. With a resounding THUD he fell flat on his face at the pretty girl's feet clad in unbelievably glossy black patent leather T-strap shoes with one inch heels. Slowly his gaze rose from her shoes to follow her slender ankles. The young girl's silken legs were clad in sheer black hose that showed off her shapely legs. Looking up sheepishly he had a perfect view beneath her full pleated black velvet skirt. Beneath her dainty skirt he could see the lace edged ruffles of her white crinoline petticoat. The ruffled petticoat hid the juncture of her thighs from his view so he was unable to see her panties but he correctly imagined they were as delicately lace trimmed as her petticoat. From his prone position he was unable to see her face, but at the moment he didn't care. Mesmerized by the sight, he found himself unable to move. Fred quickly realized what was happening and hastily leaned over to hoist his infatuated son to his feet. Fred remained silent because he understood how overwhelmed his son was by the unblemished beauty of the teenage girl. He too had wondered if Helen's relentless descriptions had been fact or fable. Now he knew they were fact. The black velvet sleeveless dress hugged the teenage girl's curvaceous body like a glove. The low-cut bodice was filled out nicely. Instead of revealing her cleavage the cut out was filled with delicate black lace through which her fine white flesh was visible while hiding all details. Her slender arms were encased in stretch black lace that matched that which hid her cleavage. Matching black lace stretch gloves encased her primly folded hands in her lap. Her long silken blonde hair fell luxuriously about her shoulders and except for her pert bangs was held back from her face by a black velvet band tied into a large bow atop her head. Her face looked like that of an exquisite porcelain doll. Fred's heart rate increased dramatically as he drank in the young girl's undeniable girlishness. If he had a daughter, he would have wanted her to be like Leslie. Fred held Heath on his unsteady feet before Leslie. Momentarily the duo were awestruck by the teenage girl's unblemished beauty. Heath became hopelessly lost the moment his eyes met Leslie's eyes. Fred finally snapped himself out of his trance and had to practically drag poor Heath away. Leslie blushed and lowered her eyes as the boy fell. His look of lust made her feel very vulnerable. Hillary placed a comforting arm on her daughter's shoulder. They had another long discussion about the birds and the bees over the weekend. Hillary's experiences in the office had reminded her about her own sexual appeal and how men reacted to pretty girls. Then there was Helen's tale about Heath's burgeoning sexuality. This caused Hillary to face the fact that the female hormones had been causing Leslie to blossom into an attractive teenage girl who would find men and boys beginning to pay attention to her. Now she was glad she had done so. Helen had been correct, Heath Reilly certainly qualified as a testosterone-overloaded boy. Once more she was glad she had turned her baby into a girl. Heath was a virtual basket case during the rest of the viewing and funeral. The be-smitten boy could only look longingly at his new goddess, Leslie Lynn Balkut. Fred took the boy by the shoulder and guided him through the proceedings with a minimal amount of disturbance. It didn't take everyone long to realize that the boy was totally infatuated with the winsome girl. All the men could understand why and chuckled at Heath's adolescent angst. The women found the situation amusing. It proved to them that males thought first with their genitals. At first Leslie was unnerved by Heath's enraptured admiration. Up until now she had led a sheltered life. Her mother's blunt discussion about the birds and bees had startled her but it also answered a myriad of questions. This was the first time a boy had really paid such wanton attention to her girlishness. Before today her main relationships with boys had been limited to her efforts to foil their attempts to flip her skirt. The knowledge that she was desirable made her taut breasts tingle with excitement. Once she overcame the initial surprise of Heath's adoration she began to enjoy it. At every opportunity she glanced to see if he was still watching her. When their eyes met she would smile coquettishly, blush, and demurely look away. Hillary would have laughed if she hadn't been so concerned about her daughter. It was an obvious case of two way puppy love. Leslie had been enrolled in St. Patrick Parochial School so Heath was unable to see her in school. While he wasn't too happy about not being able to see her every day there was some consolation in the fact that the other guys in his school could not hit upon Leslie. Besides, from what he knew about St. Patrick Parochial School, the boys there were not allowed to mingle with the girls. Heath knew that he was the only boy with whom Leslie had individual contact. During the ensuing weeks, Heath made sure to be on his best behavior in hopes of being allowed to visit Leslie. Helen was embarrassed by and furious about Heath's unbridled lust for Leslie. The only thing Helen appreciated was Heath's willingness to finally try to be a good boy. While Helen did not feel comfortable around males, she did recall the fun she had flirting with boys before her father molested her. Hillary was determined to allow Leslie to enjoy flirting and even dating boys. However, she intended to see that Leslie was never hurt as she had been. There would be strict rules and supervision until Hillary felt Leslie was able to handle herself. Thus, Hillary encouraged the fledgling romance between Heath and Leslie for two reasons. It reinforced Leslie's desire to become a complete female and it reinforced her friendship with Fred and Helen. Hillary invited Helen and Heath to visit at least twice a week. Each time the puppy love between the teens was obvious. When Heath realized that Leslie was flirting with him his desire for her tripled. Of course, the young couple was never left alone to explore their young love. Heath was too tongue tied to even talk to Leslie about his infatuation and Leslie was much too shy to even consider discussing her feelings for Heath. All the youngsters could do was smile and nod their head in response to their polite conversation. They usually played a game like Scrabble or watched movies that Hillary had preselected. During these happy visits Heath saw for himself that Leslie was demurely girlish and polite. She was everything his mother had said... and more. While Hillary continued to encourage the mutual infatuation of the teenagers, she also noted Helen's growing ire with her son. It didn't take much encouragement for Helen to spill her soul to Hillary about all the problems she had endured with Heath. "You certainly did the right thing by raising Leslie as a girl," Helen commented several times during each visit. "I think I'd do the same to Heath if I had it to do over again." At first Hillary smiled sympathetically and filed that information away. When the bitter comments continued, Hillary decided to speak. "Dr. Trate does treat older boys and men. If you're interested, I'm sure I could make arrangements for you to speak to her about the matter." "Oh I'm not really serious," Helen smiled guiltily. "I was just venting some steam." After the first week, Helen became so agitated with Heath's past conduct and his testosterone driven lust for Leslie that she decided to cool his ardor. His obnoxious behavior was more than she could stand while at the same time her exposure to demure Leslie made her desire for a daughter of her own to balloon. She obtained a second prescription for female hormones from her doctor and began to slip Heath a secret dose each day. The changes didn't take long. Within one week, Heath's aggressive nature subsided. Within two weeks he had become quite meek. The school was delighted with Heath's improved behavior and study habits. Heath managed to stay out of trouble and in the process quickly shed his loose-knit circle of troublesome friends. Still, every nice day Heath hurried from the school to his oak nook. With his jeans dropped and binoculars in hand, he relieved his lust as he watched the cheerleaders. So infatuated was he with Leslie that he now imagined the giggling bouncing cheerleaders to be Leslie. Leslie was also changing. The awakening of her sexuality created many new thoughts and desires. Heath's obvious infatuation spurred her on to explore her femininity. Now in a new school she was able to shed her former quiet mousey persona and blossom into a spritely, flirtatious, giggly teenage girl. No longer did she blush when discussions with her female classmates turned to boys. She was now able to relate to most of what they said. She began to look forward to the time when she could kiss a boy and make out a bit. Of course, the closeness to Heath made her sometimes wonder what she'd have been like if she had been raised as the boy she had been born. Up until meeting Heath, every boy she'd known had been a terror to a sweet demure girl. Heath was far from being an angel and tended to be risque, but he was kind and considerate to her. Even her mother had said that boys weren't all bad. Several times she tried to imagine living as a boy. She watched the boys in her class at St. Patrick Parochial School. They all seemed so intent on proving their masculinity and were never satisfied with what they achieved. It was like they always had to be on top. She noticed they never allowed themselves to cry or to giggle, things she treasured as a girl. In the end, she decided that she was glad to be a girl and that if she had been a boy she'd have asked her mother to allow her to become a girl. She could not understand why anyone would want to be a rough, crude boy when they could be a sweet, polite girl. While she was happy to be a girl, she was still naturally curious about what it was like to be a boy. One rainy, dreary Saturday in mid October she and Heath were sitting in the family room of the Balkut home. The heavy rain was pounding upon the French doors but inside it was nice and cozy. Hillary and Helen sat in the sitting room next door, out of earshot but well within sight. Leslie had once more crushed Heath at Scrabble even though he was steadily improving his game. "Heath, what's it like being a boy," Leslie asked seizing the opportunity for a quiet serious discussion. "Huh," Heath who had been trying to catch glimpses of Leslie's petticoats responded obviously totally caught off guard. "What's it like to be a boy? That's really hard to answer. That's like me asking you what it's like to be a girl. Why do you want to know? I hope you're not thinking about becoming a tomboy." "Of course I don't want to be a tomboy," Leslie blushed and responded defensively. "I love being a girl. I was just curious, that's all." The teens fell silent for a few moments but the question had kindled never before aroused curiosity in Heath. "Maybe if you tell me what it's like being a girl I'll have some idea how to tell you what it's like being a boy," Heath finally stated in a desperate hope that Leslie might reveal some of her dainty underthings. "All right, that sounds fair enough," Leslie stated as she bit her lip in thought. She stood and walked in a circle swishing her petticoated skirts while Heath practically drooled. "You're right, it is difficult to put into words what it's like being a girl. I guess to me being a girl means being soft and delicate, like a flower. I simply love dressing up in soft frilly clothes and looking pretty. The way people smile at me when I'm dressed up really prissyish makes me feel all warm and cozy inside. The clothing itself is really nice too. We girls get to wear nice silky clothes with lots of ribbon and lace. We can also cry whenever we feel like it. We can giggle too. We don't have to hide our feelings like boys do. We can relax and be ourselves. We don't have to put on some fake tough guy exterior to show how much of a man we are. Girls can do anything a boy can do, maybe not as well, but we can at least try. Boys can't do that. Girls can play sports or play with dolls. Boys can only play sports. Girls can climb trees or wear frilly dresses. Boys can only climb trees. It's really not fair that girls can do girly things and boyish things while boys can only do boyish things." While Leslie swished about a much captivated Heath, the enamored lad drank in her overt femininity. Leslie was clad in a pink flowered dress with three-quarter length sleeves. The sleeves ended in ruffled cuffs that matched the ruffles on the high Victorian neck. The princess seamed bodice clung to her slender body to enticingly conceal the details but reveals the curvaceous outline of her slender teenage figure. The knee length full skirt seemed to spring from her narrow waist to a petticoat enhanced fullness that made her seem so delicate and fragile. The incessant rustling of the dainty petticoats in response to her slightest movement was like a siren's song to Heath. Delicate rose patterned tights encased her shapely legs. Shiny white patent leather Mary Jane shoes adorned her small feet. Her long silken blonde hair, except for her dainty curled bangs, was pulled back into a full high ponytail secured in place by pink satin ribbons tied into large bows. The ponytail bounced and swayed enticingly in response to even the slightest movement of her head. "Well... ah... I don't think it's unfair," Heath retorted defensively when he realized Leslie had stopped talking and was looking directly at him. He was embarrassed to have been caught ogling her femininity. Discreetly he attempted to make the tightness in his crotch more tolerable. "Any boy who would want to play dolls or wear a frilly dress has to be a sissy." "But that's what I'm talking about," Leslie argued. "What if a boy wanted to play with dolls or wear a frilly dress. He's teased and tormented as a sissy. It's not fair! Now, please Heath, be honest with me. I promise not to tease you or to tell anyone how you answer. But haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to dress up in a frilly outfit? Aren't you curious about how it feels?" "Me, wear a dumb dress," Heath huffed indignantly. "No, never, I wouldn't do it!" "Heath," Leslie demanded in a harsh tone. "I'm not asking you to actually do it, I'd just like to know if you are curious about how it feels. It's quite obvious you like to watch me when I'm wearing frilly outfits." "Well, I guess I am a little curious," he whispered while blushing deeply now that she admitted knowing he was leering at her. "But I'd never ever want to find out!" "But that's stupid," Leslie declared. "It's just a dumb macho thing you boys have to put up with. Girls are free to do boy things so boys should be free to do girl things." "Well, maybe," Heath conceded. "But I still won't ever find out what it feels like to wear a dumb dress!" "So tell me then," Leslie asked. "How does it feel to be limited in the things you can or can't do?" "I never thought about it that way before," Heath concluded in a perplexed voice. "I guess you do have a point. Only I don't know of any guy who would ever even try doing girly stuff." "Well, that's your loss then," Leslie added. "If I wanted, I could dress like you and play the same things you do. But you can't dress like me and play the same things I do. I'm just glad I'm a girl. Being a boy seems really dumb when you're so restricted. I really don't understand why boys insist on being so macho all the time. They miss out on so much that's so very nice." "Well, that's the price of being a guy," Heath huffed. Just then their mothers entered the room and the conversation ended. Leslie was more firmly convinced being a girl was the smartest and best thing in the world. Heath was left with some gnawing questions. While he had never before thought about the inequity between boys and girls, he had always assumed boys had the better end of the deal. Now Leslie had pointed out that it was the girls who truly had it better. This made him question his beliefs about male superiority. It also brought forth a question that wanted an answer he certainly didn't want answered. Now that she had raised the issue, he did wonder what it felt like to wear frilly girlish outfits. That really bothered his injured masculinity. He took a bit of consolation secure in the knowledge that he was determined to never answer that question! During the next week the weather grew steadily more chilly. Heath watched the interplay of the girls and boys at his school and began to realize that Leslie was right Girls did have it better. They could be a rough and tumble tomboy one day and a femme fatale the next. They did giggle and cry freely while guys had to be constantly stoic. While he never questioned his sexuality or the fact that he was all boy, he had a growing resentment to the unfair rigid sexist roles they had to live. Heath also realized that the cheerleaders would soon stay indoors to practice. This would deprive him of his sole source of release. This really bothered him because he not