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Standard warning and disclaimer: All characters are fictional. If you see yourself, buy a new mirror. Contains subjects some people may find offensive. If you are one of them, why are you reading this? Protect your kids. If you are worried about them reading this sort of material, please censor free speech and use a safe surfing program such as net nanny. Or better yet, teach them early and lovingly to understand and accept different lifestyles. Before they learn from bad experiences. Constructive comments appreciated. I have a delete button and I'm not afraid to use it! Please send comments to [email protected] or [email protected] Paula By Samantha Michelle Copyright 2000 I was chatting with Jeremy as we headed towards the pool doors for today's meet. Because we had to use the University pool for competition, in our district swimming was the first spring sport of the year. This was also the first intramural competition of the year. We got to the locker room early, as we both wanted some extra warm-up time. Chuck saw me come in, and whistled "Hey Paula, nice outfit." I smiled and waved at him. Mom had found this wonderful Gunny-Sax dress at a resale shop, and it made the best of my thin, muscular figure. I had to get Jeremy to help unzip me, and I carefully changed into my new custom-made Speedo spandex and silicone competition suit. It was a present from my Dad. It felt weird, especially on my nipples, which were annoyingly erect, as usual. But it cut half a second off my time. For another half-second I think I would have painted myself like a frog, and croaked my naked way across the pool. Coach Thomas's "Okay, quit staring at Paula's tits and get into the pool," made me glare at him, and everyone else laugh. He still was not completely comfortable about having me on the team. But he was less comfortable without me. Besides, I was a not-so-secret weapon for this most important meet. We only swam against each school in the district once each season, and Centennial High was our stiffest competition. Like everyone else, I had all my hair carefully tucked into a slick cap, and soon was doing warm-up laps and testing the pool walls to make sure I was ready for a fast turnaround. When it was time to begin, each team member had to be announced and walk to their side from the blocks at the shallow end. The order was captains first, and the rest by height. I guess it looked better to the photographers. The girls' teams went first, and I smiled as my sister Wanda took her position as the assistant captain of their team. She was only a sophomore, but she still was one of the best swimmers in the district. When the boys' teams were announced I was, as always, the last person in line. They called out "Paula Wilson" and I joined my teammates. The sudden silence was amazing. The guys on the other team looked like cartoon characters, bug eyed and staring. I could hear their coach across the pool sputtering like a sick lawnmower. He immediately confronted the meet officials. "What are they doing with a girl on their team?" Coach Thomas's innocent "What girl?" almost got a fight started. The officials checked our roster, and the medical certifications for me, then told him to shut up and sit down, or forfeit. I guess this is as good a place as any to explain that my legal name is Paula Marie Wilson, and I'm a sixteen-year-old high school junior. And yes, I'm a boy, even though I wear nothing but girls' clothes, and look, act (mostly), and sound like a girl. I've almost forgiven my Mom and Dad for getting me into this situation. But back to the meet. I'm not the fastest swimmer on the team, but I'm reliable, and excel in the relays. By then end of the meet, I was also the star for the day. The guys on the other team were either so freaked by my appearance that they made big mistakes, or underestimated my wiry strength and did not start out at maximum. We took first and second in all the relay events, and I managed a bronze in the backstroke. It was close overall, but we out-pointed them. Chuck and I almost fell into the pool laughing when their captain, and best swimmer, got heaved out of competition for the rest of the meet when he called me a pervert and a fag. Our girls' team turned their Centennial counterparts into guacamole. Wanda almost squeezed me out of my suit after the competition. She had placed first in the 100 and 400 freestyle, and managed a second in the 100 butterfly, her least- favorite race. In the locker room we happily pummeled each other. A bit later I had just finished showering when I slipped and got my hair tangled in the shower knobs. I wound up sitting on the shower floor, fuming, as two of the guys spent the better part of five minutes making jokes about my breasts while they carefully worked my hair free. What was worse, they both had hard-ons. At eye level. Disgusting. When I was finally redressed, Stephen, the only other guy on the team with really long hair, brushed mine out and braided it for me. For swimming he was lucky. His hair was as curly as a poodle's, and yet refused to tangle when left to air-dry. But he looked like a fuzzy red basketball until he brushed it out. I pulled out a pair of four-inch blocky heels from my gym bag, and strapped them on. That, plus the walk they enhanced, got me a lot of friendly catcalls and whistles. I had to put up with it, and knew most of it was meant in fun. Chuck and I had carpooled to the University so we would not be stuck forever waiting for the school's busses. He was a careful driver, and managed to get me home without incident. Meet or not, we had homework. Until it was done, I was stuck at home. And Ginny wasn't even in town. When Wanda returned, we decided to relax and get started on out homework. Mom and Dad were not due back till late, so I changed into my nightgown and clean panties, and soon was sprawled on the family room floor next to my sister, surrounded by schoolbooks and listening to oldies on the stereo. She got up to answer the door, and we were quickly joined by Amy and Chuck. I groaned, as Amy was both a good friend and one of my main tormentors. But she went off to change, and returned dressed almost like me, wearing one of Wanda's castoffs. It was obvious, however, she had neglected the panties. Since it was warm, Chuck stripped to his cutoffs, and he was soon engaging Wanda in an insult competition in German. At least it sounded like insults. Amy and I spent almost three hours on Physics, and were down to our last brain cells when she finished typing up the final experiment and report on our computer. Chuck and Wanda were playing with each other under a blanket, and giggling. Which would have bothered me, except I knew Chuck was gay. Amy announced that the paper was finished, and so was she. Wanda stuck her head out, and reminded me it was my turn to make snacks. I hissed, but Amy said she would help. We returned from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches, and two six- packs of soda. Much later Mom and Dad came home and found us quietly munching and listening to music. It was a good thing they had finally adopted an unwritten rule that as long as there were four of us, they had a don't ask, don't tell policy. I think it kept them from having as many headaches. After they headed to bed, we closed the door. Soon Chuck had on plastic gloves, and was giving Wanda, who was face down and almost completely naked, a neck-to-toes back-rub. She was quietly purring. He had learned therapeutic massage from his Mom, who was a licensed masseur, and tattoo artist. Surprisingly, he had only a small Celtic knot on one shoulder, and four earrings. Amy and I were simply curled up together. She was behind me, and held me like a big stuffed animal. Since she was also a head taller than me, it was really comfortable. I asked Amy if she needed to be home soon, and she sighed unhappily. "My Dad got paid today, so he was already half-pickled when I left. I'm not going home till Sunday. By then he'll be too hung over to hit me." Her Mom and Dad were alcoholics, and sometimes she came to school with bruises. When I asked her where she would stay, she shrugged. "It's warm, probably up on the roof, or somewhere." By now Chuck had flipped Wanda. Amy and I watched as he poured massage oil over her, and started at her feet. Her nipples were the most erect I had ever seen them, and her pubes, which she shaved for racing, looked huge. Amy was fascinated. By the time Chuck reached her upper thighs, Wanda was whimpering and had spread her legs far enough we could see everything. She was dripping. Amy was breathing fast, and had begun to rub herself against me. So now I was getting really horny. Amy and I giggled as Chuck carefully massaged everything except what Wanda really was desperate to have touched, and moved slowly up. He spent several minutes on her breasts, and I swore the only parts of Wanda touching the floor were her shoulders and heels. She was lying limp and quivering as he slowly did her face and scalp. Her eyes were closed, and she was making funny mewing noises. So was Amy, and I knew that she was almost as hot as Wanda. Chuck motioned to us, and mouthed the word "watch". We nodded. He firmly kneaded her breasts and nipples, and when she arched, he buried at least three large, well-oiled fingers deep in her vagina, and squeezed. I had never seen a girl orgasm like that before. Wanda bounced and shook and whimpered and wailed and made all sorts of other noises as he continued to massage her breasts and vagina. I think she lasted ten minutes, and was sort of foaming at the mouth when she finally stopped moving. Amy had started to chew on my earlobes, and was massaging my nipples, causing me to make a tent out of the panties. Chuck was smiling. He asked Amy if she wanted a massage. It took her about three seconds to be completely naked. I loved her body. She was much softer than Wanda, and not as athletic. And she had a soft, furry bush. Which was off-limits to what was making a tent in my panties. It was partly my interest in her, and her underwear, that got me in trouble. But now I had Ginny, or I should say we had each other. I got myself comfortable, and absent-mindedly watched the festivities as I thought back over the last two years. From as early as I can remember, I was fascinated with girls. And their clothes. My kid sister got to wear all kinds of soft, silky things. I got Jockey shorts. I watched as she played with her budding breasts and moaned with pleasure. Mine simply got irritated. By the time I was out of middle school she was taller and heavier than me, with a curvy figure she kept trim by swimming. She was already getting dates. Girls wouldn't even give me a first look. Mostly because I looked like a fourth grader. Mom said I looked just like my grandfather on her side. When she told me he never reached five feet, I almost died. I had seen his picture. At first I thought he was mom's much younger brother. Even in his fifties he was a baby- faced little guy with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing a badge and carrying pistol as big as he was. The legend read "County Sheriff, 1947-1961" Maybe there was some hope for me. But I was still interested in girls and their clothes. And I wanted a closer look. I had tried on some of my sister's things when I was younger, and loved the feeling, but quit when she almost caught me one day. It was just after school ended that my sister decided to clean out her room. Or Mom decided it for her. They stored everything in the basement awaiting the community rummage sale in August. It was a smorgasbord for me. Her rapid growth meant that everything was almost new. And she liked really soft, girlie stuff. So I soon had several storage boxes under my bed filled with the best items. She had outgrown her shoes, and I found several pairs of really high heels that fit. Mom and Dad both worked, and Wanda spent all day practicing at the pool. So I spent many days wearing satin and lace and skirts and dresses. And jerking off into a towel. Soon I was as comfortable prancing around in the heels and a long, tight skirt as I was in my shorts and tenny runners. Wanda had complained loudly about being flat until Mom bought her some expensive silicone breast forms. Then she grew her own. They were a perfect fit in the many bras I collected. I already had really long hair, and was able to convince Mom and Dad that guys these days wore earrings, so I got my ears pierced. I never knew why, but I carefully stole some of Wanda's and Mom's makeup, and Wanda's Seventeen magazines. I was a quick study, and by August I had mastered makeup better than Wanda. This is not to say that all I did was wear her clothes. I also swam a lot, climbed trees, played tennis and ran around with some of my friends. But they were always being asked if they were baby-sitting me. It was embarrassing. I was fourteen, and could not even get into anything but a "G" movie without my ID. My voice finally dropped. From soprano to alto. Mom's saying her father used to sing tenor made me feel even worse. And my desperately hoped-for facial hair showed up. As three flimsy whiskers. Arghhh! In late August Amy moved in down the street. She was the same age as me, and was better built than my sister. I hurt myself the first time I saw her in a thong bikini. She was in her back yard tanning herself. I wound up limping back home and jerking off in the shower. Twice. After the start of high school, it got worse. The fashion was either long feminine skirts and dresses, or tiny flip skirts and skin-tight tank tops. I suffered as much as my grades. I wanted to get into their clothes. Both ways. But so far the closest I had been to a naked girl was accidentally walking in on my sister when she was changing. All the guys in gym made fun of my hairless body and tiny size. Yeah, I was small all over. Including there. I had actually managed to reach four feet eleven. And 95 pounds. No, not down there. They were bragging about feeling up their dates. I couldn't even get a girl to hold my hand. I made the JV tennis and swim teams. But still no dates. I think there were a few girls in school shorter than me. But they dated tall guys. At least five- six. Grrr. One Tuesday someone must have slipped something into my milk at school. A bunch of guys were joking about reading where a guy dressed like a girl, and snuck into the girl's locker room. My brain went into overdrive. I think I attended classes that afternoon. Which ones are another story. On that fateful Friday, I claimed to be ill, and Mom let me stay home. Within an hour I was dressed in a long, pretty dress, complete with jewelry, makeup, and heels. I put my hair up, and in the mirror I looked really cute. And I was sure not a bit like little Paul. I carefully skipped into school, and nervously made it into the girls' lockers. I was glad my sister used to wear a panty-girdle; it kept me from bulging. I spent the time between showers in the library, actually doing homework. I got a lot of attention from the guys, which scared me. By the last period I was becoming an expert in girl's anatomy. And which girls were wearing more padding in their bras than me. The way I stared, I think they figured I was a lesbian. It was when I tried to head home early to change that things fell apart. I ran into both Wanda and Amy in the locker room. I thought I had fooled them as I tried to sneak out, but a strong hand grabbed my throat, and I found myself staring at Wanda. I quietly begged her not to say anything, and she got this evil smile. She whispered that if I wanted to live, I was to go home and stay dressed just like I was until she got there. I gasped out my agreement, and she and Amy walked away giggling. By the time I got home, I was shaking like a leaf, and wondering if I should just run away. Both Amy and Wanda were stronger than me, and I had a sickening feeling I was going to get pulverized. Later I wished that had been all they planned to do to me. I was waiting in my room, still shaking, when I heard the door open. I was soon facing Amy and Wanda, who were standing there with a camera. I tried to run, but Wanda blocked the door. They threatened to drag me back into the girls' locker room after giving out copies of their pictures. Amy joked that if they didn't neuter me immediately, the school would do it for them. All I could do was break down and cry. When Wanda searched my room, she found my stash of her clothes and magazines. I thought I was as miserable as I could get. After they wiped my eyes and touched up my makeup, they made me go downstairs and sit at the dining room table with them. I knew Mom and Dad were due home soon. I tried to beg for mercy. Something unknown to pissed-off teenage girls. "Well, Paula," Wanda emphasized the 'a'. What does my new sister have to say for herself?" I put my head down and whimpered. "Let's see. Suspended or expelled for sneaking into the girls showers, beaten to a pulp by every guy who finds out you were looking at their girlfriends naked, called a sissy by everyone in the school, and grounded until you are forty by Mom and Dad..." I knew I was dead. "Or you can tell us everything, and maybe we'll let you live." I spilled out my life story in all its pitiful details. Soon they were laughing so hard they had to sit on the floor. I even had to laugh at some of my escapades. I froze when I heard the front door open. Mom's, "Hello?" was followed by Wanda's, "We're in the dining room." It's not true that you watch your life flash before your eyes. What you see are all the possible ways you can die horribly. Mom said "Hi", and she and Dad headed upstairs. I was shaking too hard to say anything, and Wanda and Amy were giggling. Amy's, "Bet it takes them at least a minute," was accepted by Wanda for a dollar. It was an eternally long five minutes before we heard an "Oh MY GOD!" from upstairs, and Mom came dashing madly to the dining room. She stared at me for at least fifteen seconds before she screamed for Dad. Wanda and Amy were now giggling uncontrollably. When he came running downstairs, Dad's expression went from near panic to total confusion. Wanda broke the silence. "Guess who we met in the locker room at school today?" They stared at me. "My older sister Paula dropped in for a visit..." Amy added "and, well, we're a little worried, because she seemed awfully interested in watching the other girls shower..." I tried to curl up into a ball, but the two of them made me sit up and face my parents. Mom looked at me like I had just crept out from under a log. Dad was gurgling. Mom gabbled "Young man, or whatever you are, what in God's name are you dressed like that for, or what made you do something like this? " She paused. "Oh my god, you're gay..." Her voice faded out as she stared me in horror. Dad put his hand on her shoulder. "Mary, think for a moment. If he were gay, what would he be doing staring at naked girls?" She nodded shakily. He looked at me. "Does anyone else know he was in there?" We all shook our heads. He pulled me to my feet, and made me stand there while he examined my face and clothes. Mom joined him. Her, "Who helped you get dressed like this?" was accusatory. She refused to believe me when I told her I did it myself. "No chance. Your makeup is too good, and the clothes match. You couldn't possibly..." Wanda interrupted, and dragged Mom upstairs. She was shaking her head a few minutes later when they carried my boxes of girls stuff downstairs and set them on the floor. Dad's, "I think you have a lot of explaining to do," was the last straw. I collapsed on the floor, sobbing. Wanda picked me up like a little kid, and gave me a hug. "Do you want to tell them, or should I?" I finally managed to ask for some tissues, and carefully wiped off the streaked makeup. With Amy and Wanda making sure I left out no gory details, I started back through my story. Mom did a lot of blushing when I described my masturbating while wearing Wanda's stuff, and Dad seemed less worried about what I did than my getting caught doing it. It was almost seven-thirty when I finished. When Dad asked Wanda and Amy what they thought should happen to me, I envisioned a guillotine. When they said, "Let's think about it over dinner," I cringed. Mom made me fix my makeup as she watched, amazed. I wound up sandwiched between Amy and Wanda in the back seat of Dad's car. And to make matters worse, they were teasing me by quietly rubbing my upper thighs through the dress, making me painfully aroused. Dad parked as far from the restaurant as possible. Everyone gawked at me, as the heels made me sway gracefully as I walked. I blushed when they ordered me a Shirley Temple. And addressed me as Paula. I carefully watched my manners, and with the help of a napkin managed to keep food off the dress. I almost sprayed dessert across the table when Amy suggested we go dancing, saying I would have no problem getting partners. I wondered if I could claim political asylum in Canada. When we got home, Amy said she needed to check in, and we could hear her being yelled at through the phone. She was crying when she hung up. For some reason I gave her a hug. I looked at Mom and Dad. "Can she spend the night? Her parents are drunk again..." I let it trail off. Wanda looked at me strangely, but seconded the request, saying Amy could sleep in her room. I think by this time my parent's brains were saturated. They nodded, and told Wanda to find Amy a nightgown. Almost as an afterthought, Mom looked at me, and told her to get me one too, and some panties. That made Amy laugh. I almost freaked when my parents left me in charge of closing up, saying regardless of how I was dressed, I was the oldest. "Remember Paula, make sure the doors are locked and the lights are out." I was not sure who was more startled, Wanda or me. So we all decided to sit around the TV and watch a movie. Wanda made popcorn, and soon we were laughing ourselves silly. I had secretly worn a nightgown to bed many times, and quickly forgot about how I was dressed. After the movie, I made sure everything was secure, and headed upstairs. I blushed all the way to my toes when Wanda quipped "Remember, no stains on my nightgown..." The next morning I awoke thinking it had been an awful dream. But the nightgown, and the dress hanging on my closet door, convinced me it was real. I grabbed some of my clothes, and saw a note stuck to my mirror. "Paula. Wear a nice dress or skirt and blouse today. Mom." Visions of my being hauled to jail crossed my mind. I was ready in a few minutes, and decided I'd better do it up right. So I braided my hair and put on a little makeup. It made me look younger, sort of "girl next door". I shuddered when I realized I might wind up that way. I was also the first one up. So I went into my sister's room to wake them. And stopped in my tracks. There was a pile of nightclothes, including panties, at the foot of the bed. And my sister and Amy were tightly snuggled face to face. I carefully closed the door, and pulled down the covers. I was not the only one caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Amy woke first, and tried to jump up. Wanda, still asleep, dragged her back and kissed her. Amy's bouncing woke her, and she grabbed for the covers, which I generously returned. They were both brightly lit up, and when Wanda tried to make excuses, I grabbed her hand and sniffed. She almost gave birth to a lizard. My, "Now who's going to blackmail whom?" made Amy start to cry. "If my parents find out they will kill me." I understood her fear; Wanda was shaking like I had last night. "Okay, I wont tell if you won't." That caused them to grab and hug each other, then look really guilty. "So get dressed and let's get some breakfast." I paused. "You can give me a demonstration later..." Then I watched them turn red. Again. When they asked why I was wearing a skirt, I mentioned Mom's note. Wanda's, "Oh oh," didn't help. I refused to leave the room while they were dressing. It was quite a show. Wanda was shaved smooth for swimming, and Amy's furry bush was sticky and matted. I indicated I wanted a closer look, and soon was given a guided tour of their anatomy. I had been through Sex Ed, but I was amazed at the delicate soft pink parts, and their clitorises. Wanda's looked like a little covered bump, until she pushed back the covering, and it quickly grew to a small pink post. When I reached out and tapped it, she almost jumped straight up. "Hey, that's sensitive..." she complained. Amy was really puffy, and I realized she was aroused. Hers was much larger, and looked like she had a tiny hard-on. When I lightly stroked her soft fur, she trembled. I played with her bush for several seconds, and then pulled away. I was blushing as brightly as she was. When I licked my fingers, she gasped. It tasted a good sort of strange. I licked my lips, and Wanda broke out with an attack of the giggles. Soon we were eating breakfast, fixed by Wanda and Amy. Mom and Dad made their way slowly into the kitchen. It looked like they hadn't gotten much sleep. When I told them that Wanda, Amy, and I had agreed to keep what happened Friday a secret, Dad looked relieved. Mom seemed better, but told me I was going to have to pay for my behavior. I was told to spend the rest of the weekend as Paula. Amy stayed over again on Saturday night, and I wheedled them into showing how two girls made love. It was interesting. Then they asked me to show them how I played with myself. And I was so nervous I couldn't get it up. I felt awful. Instead of laughing, Amy gave me a big hug. Wanda suggested something to her, and pulled a silk camisole from her drawer. They had me lay on my back, naked, and slowly used the silk to give me a soft massage. In minutes I was playing tent-pole. Amy took the silk, wrapped it tightly around my balls and penis, and began rhythmically kneading me. I lasted for about thirty seconds before I wailed quietly and tried to fill the silk. When I recovered, I was shocked to find they were each licking the silk clean, and grinning. "The other girls were right, it does taste salty." I had weird dreams all night. Sunday Mom took us shopping. I wound up having to buy new panties and makeup out of my allowance. Ouch. No wonder my sister got more money. I was terrified that Mom was going to make me go to school as Paula on Monday, but a note on my mirror said to dress as Paul. They said nothing for the next week, but I found my stash of girl's clothes had been returned. Another week passed, and I was beginning to hope it was all over. On Sunday, Mom announced I had several doctor's appointments, and would miss school for the first part of the week. I could get no more information, and Wanda seemed as in the dark as I was. Monday, the note on the mirror said I was Paula for the next two days. I was wondering if she was planning on having me neutered. But that wasn't legal. I hoped. Our first appointment was with a doctor who gave me a skin-out examination, and had his nurse take a lot of blood and get a sperm sample. I was still blushing when we arrived at the next stop. Here I had to spend almost two hours talking with a psychiatrist about my dressing as a girl. I was told I would have another appointment with him that afternoon. After lunch, we stopped by the first doctor's office, where mom picked up some paperwork. I spent most of the afternoon talking to three different psychiatrists. When we got home I was too exhausted to do more than grab a snack and head for bed. Wanda came in and gave me a hug, and asked what had happened. She laughed at the sperm sample. Her, "It can't be any worse than a pelvic exam," did not make me feel better. She wished me luck, and headed to her room. I had nightmares. Tuesday, it was back to the psychiatrist. I was asked a few new questions, and it seemed he was checking on some of my previous answers. I was surprised when, after lunch, we met with all of them, including the doctor. They told Mom to explain why she and Dad had me evaluated. Mom said she wanted them to do something to get me to stop dressing like a girl. She was afraid I was crazy and might hurt someone. Or myself. They asked me what I thought. I said I was afraid it was sick, but I really liked how I felt when dressed. And I told them I was really interested in girls. They nodded. It was a long discussion. Mom was surprised when they said I was not mentally disturbed, but apparently suffered from a variation of a fairly uncommon, and untreatable, psychological condition called gender dysphoria. The rest of the discussion got fuzzy, and they had me leave and sit in the waiting area. When I returned, I was told by Mom that she and Dad had decided I was going to spend my junior year living as a girl, to see if it was what I really needed. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was adamant. But that was almost a year away. I wound up going home with two shots in my bottom, and a bottle of pills with lots of strange instructions and cautions. They told me the shots and pills would make it a lot easier for me to be a girl by next fall. They just didn't tell me I wouldn't have a choice by then. Wanda didn't seem all that worried, and she and Amy said it would be fun having another girl to play with. That was the last I heard about the subject from Mom and Dad until I started to complain that my chest was sore and itching, and I was having trouble masturbating. I had earlier noticed that my face had cleared up within days of the shots, and I seemed to be on an emotional roller-coaster. That got me a trip back to the doctor, who gave me another shot, and changed my pills to every other day. I was soon getting erections more often, just not like the old days, and was told the itching and soreness would continue on and off for a while. It was in November that I realized my nipples had gotten much bigger, and far more sensitive. They looked like my sister's when she was eleven. So rather than bug Mom, I asked Wanda to look at them. She carefully examined me, and then softly massaged them. The feelings were incredible. She sucked lightly on them, and I thought I was going to cream my shorts. When she stood up, she had a funny look on her face. "Paula, my dear sister, it looks like you are growing boobs." I fainted. When I woke up, she and Amy were sitting there, smiling. "Hey sis, relax. I bet they hurt and itch, too." I nodded, ashamed. Amy handed me a jar of ointment. "This will help a lot. Especially if you use it regularly. And wear only really soft clothes against your boobs. Regular T-shirts will rub them raw. That I understood. She suggested I get several plain girl's tank tops, and wear them under my regular clothes. When I said they'd show, they pointed out they looked just like a basketball shirt. Amy ran home and got one of hers. I tried it, and refused to give it back. I will never laugh at a girl with tender tits again. By my checkup in Mid-December, I had nipples as large as Wanda's, and had started to put on quite a bit of weight. The doctor changed my dose again, and confirmed that I was being given female hormones at my parent's direction. I was also given an excuse from gym, which I was supposed to take next semester. That made me mad. I loved sports, and spring was intramural and competition swimming and tennis, my two favorites. He told me to stay out of gym until my next checkup, and canceled my sports physical. The next scheduled checkup was only days before swimming started. I was angry and depressed, and my boobs hurt. And my butt was beginning to feel like a balloon. Over the Christmas vacation, Mom and Dad had to fly out west to visit his aunt, who was seriously ill. I was surprised when they left me in charge again, with a credit card, checkbook, and emergency instructions. For two weeks Wanda and I were on our own. Amy moved in with Wanda that evening, and they told me Paula was going to join them for the holidays. I had been dressing up very rarely, and I figured it was going to be fun not worrying about who was watching. It was a great vacation. After making me strip and taking measurements, they soon presented me with an pair of incredibly soft, padded underwire bras that supported my small breasts, and gave them a warm, secure feeling. Mostly we stayed home and did what most kids were doing. Staying out of the cold and goofing off. After the first night, they invited me to sleep with them. "Just like three girls" They weren't kidding. It was a lot of cuddling and some soft petting. No sex. Period. But I felt warm and loved. Amy never went home. Since I was the only one old enough to drive, but was scared of the slippery roads, we walked to the grocery store, and took a cab back with the groceries. Christmas was a wonderful time. We made ourselves a small turkey, and pigged out. On New Year's, there was a big fight at the end of the block, and Amy's parents got arrested. She didn't seem upset. Over those two weeks I went from fried eggs to teenybopper. And when they jiggled, I hurt. Wanda bought me two sports bras. But they showed through my shirts. So I had to wear a thick sweatshirt when I went back to school after the break. And my pants wouldn't fit. My butt was too big. I wound up looking like a real dweeb in sweats. Mom and Dad were sympathetic. We all attended the next checkup. The doctor gave me a complete exam, and seemed happy. The fight began when I said I wanted to get back in shape, and that swimming was starting next week. He argued that I looked much too feminine to use the boy's locker room, and would have to wear girl's gym clothes. I told him there were fat guys with lots bigger boobs than mine. Mom argued that I could not use the girls' lockers because their parents would throw a fit. Dad was afraid all the guys would think I was gay, and I'd get beat up. When I told him that my best friend Chuck, who was also the captain of the swim team, was gay, he shut up. I finally screamed loud enough to get everyone's attention. "Look, you chose to make this happen. Not me." I made a stylized hourglass with my hands. Wanda giggled. "So let me make my own decisions. I looked at the doctor. "At the rate I'm growing will I be able to hide everything by the end of the semester?" He shrugged. "Maybe, but you are growing faster than we expected." "And next fall, what will be the difference when I come to school wearing skirt. People will know who I am. Will it be any easier?" "Over the summer you will be getting a lot of psychological counseling, and we will work with the school to smooth your transition." I looked at them. "You've turned me into a half-boy, half-girl, and now you are worried about what someone else will think?" I bitterly spat out the words. "If you don't give me the physical, I'll go to school naked tomorrow, and really freak everyone out. And unless you lock me up, you can't stop me. I can always strip at school." Mom started to cry, and Dad growled at me as he held her. Wanda gave me a hug, and said she'd go along with whatever I chose. So we continued to argue. Mom was still crying when the doctor handed me a signed physical form. Under special comments was a statement saying I was undergoing treatments for a medical condition that were having the side effect of causing enlarged breasts and other aspects of a female appearance. It said that I was to be treated as a regular male gym student, except for contact sports, where I would have to wear additional chest protection. He also required that I wear a woman's swimsuit to protect my breasts from abrasion when swimming. I smiled at him. My, "Thank you," got my parents' attention. I showed them the form. Mom hugged me, and Dad just shook his head. Wanda read it, and gave me a thumbs-up. The doctor then wrote up a letter to the school giving the same information, and stated that I might have to wear traditionally female clothes to provide proper fit and support for my changing body. That weekend I got together with Wanda and Amy, and they were surprised when I also invited Chuck. I had arranged to have Mom and Dad gone all day. I figured it would be easier on all of us. I told them to wait, and headed to my room. They were sitting around when I returned. Chuck almost fell off his chair. I was wearing a very thin tube top, no bra, and a tiny wrap skirt with gartered stockings. I had put on makeup, jewelry, and heels. When he stopped sputtering, he looked at me in shock. I sat down between Wanda and Amy, and told him the whole story. He was shaking his head, and chuckling. "This will cause more of a stir than when I came out of the closet two years ago." He looked at me. "They're real?" I popped off the top. His eyeballs looked like Ping-Pong balls. He reached up and carefully felt them, which caused the usual reaction. I quivered and blushed, and got a big tent in my panties. He looked at me, shaking his head. "That's the first time I've ever touched someone's boobs and gotten horny." We all laughed. I put the skirt back on, but it tented too. Suddenly Amy giggled. "Hey Paula, remember when Wanda and I showed you how two girls do it?" I made a mistake and nodded. "Well, turnabout's fair play..." I suddenly realized what she was saying. And Chuck was my best friend. He was looking at me with puppy-dog eyes. He spoke up. "It'll be a lot of fun, and I won't ever expect a repeat performance. Unless you ask for it." Ten minutes later I was naked on my bed. Chuck was tenderly playing with my formerly private parts, and I was moaning with pleasure. He knew exactly what to do, and was doing it to perfection. Wanda and Amy were watching, and, I learned later, memorizing every move. Every time I got too close, he would press at the base of my erection, and I would deflate a bit. When he took me in this mouth, and slowly massaged me with his tongue, I started to see fireworks. It was the most incredible orgasm I had ever experienced. When I returned to the world of the living, Chuck was grinning, and the two girls had a hand in each other's panties. I slowly got up, and pushed him lightly towards the bed. He guided me slowly and gently, and soon he was lost in his own pleasure. I don't now why, but I took him in my mouth, and massaged him until he could hold out no longer. I managed to swallow everything, Amy was right. It was salty. I got up smiling. It took a while before he got up. When I checked the girls again, they were lying quietly against each other, eyes closed. With silly grins on their faces. I looked in fright at Chuck. "Does this mean I'm gay?" He shook his head sadly. "You're not. But damn, you have a lot of talent." When Mom and Dad came home, they found us playing scrabble. I was wearing the same mini and stockings, but had switched to a bra under a sheer blouse. Dad gave me a big hug, and Mom cried on my shoulder. I told them I was going to have a lot of clothes to donate to charity. Monday, Mom took me to school, and delivered the official copies of the paperwork to the office. I was dressed in a long skirt and conservative blouse, and my heels. Most of the attention I received was from guys trying to hit on me. When Jeremy, another of my old friends and a football lineman, saw me, he did a double take and ran over a freshman. "Paul?" I shook my head, and smiled. "Paula. And don't ask any questions. Just give me a hug and your support." He gave me a hug that threatened to be more than friendly. "Wow." The first bell rang and I told him I'd see him at lunch. He walked off with his mouth open. When I swayed my way into my first class, and sat down in my usual seat, there was silence and then minor pandemonium. The teacher was ready to go ballistic, and I handed her one of many copies of the doctor's letter I was carrying. And a small note Chuck had helped me write. She slowly walked back to the front, and got things under control. She looked stressed. "Everyone, I want to welcome... Paula Wilson, formerly Paul Wilson, to our class. Paula is a boy with a medical problem that, well, makes him look like a girl." She shook her head. "I don't understand what's happening, but this says she is to use the boy's washroom. So let's get on with class." It was the most disorganized mess I had ever seen. She released us early, claiming she was ill. Between classes I was expecting harassment, instead I was surrounded by girls who were checking me over like I was competition. My second class was almost a repeat of the first. I found that if someone did not know who I was, they treated me just like any new girl. Fresh meat. At lunch, Jeremy and Chuck commandeered a table by the wall, and Wanda made the run through the line for me. I started getting stupid comments near the end of lunch, probably because of Chuck's being gay. I let them pass. He and Jeremy let them live. English went better. I guess the school quickly realized they had a problem, and my afternoon teachers were ready. But I was forced to go to the front of the class, introduce myself, and give a short biography, just like any other new student. I was shaking like a leaf when, my skirts swirling around me, I shyly made my way into the pool locker room. Several of the guys there tried desperately to cover themselves with towels, and I felt a bit better. I found my old locker was empty, set down my gym bag, and started to strip. I had never heard the place so quiet. I was down bra and panty-girdle when the new swimming coach came charging out of his office, and threw a blanket over me. I fought him, but I was quickly wrapped up and carried out. He hollered for the girl's coach, and I felt myself being carried into the girls' locker room. There she unwrapped me, and started reading me the riot act in front of all the half-naked girls there. And my paperwork was in my bag in the other locker room. Finally one of the girls who had been in my English class managed to get her attention, and explained what was supposed to be going on. She refused to believe that I was a boy, and removed my bra, pointing to my tiny boobs as proof. I finally got my composure, and told her I was a boy, and that I was supposed to be in the boys' locker room. Her derisive "right, missy" was followed by her pulling down my girdle. And then yanking it painfully back up. I didn't think anything that tight could give me a wedgie. OWWW! A few girls screamed and covered themselves. But most came over and stared at my boobs. The coach handed me my bra, wrapped me back up, and carried me back to the boys' locker room door. I wound up standing there, almost naked under the blanket, watching the two coaches arguing about what to do with me. And feeling utterly ridiculous. One of the guys from the locker room brought out my stuff, and I almost lost the blanket squatting down to pull out my paperwork. I screamed as loudly as I could, which got their attention, and handed each of them copies. And then did lose the blanket, which made me turn beet red. I quickly pulled it back around me. But I wound up standing there until someone from the main office came down and confirmed that the paperwork was legitimate, and that they had to comply. That was also when I got confirmation that the coaches had not been briefed. I was escorted back into the boy's locker room, and the coach cringed as everyone stood around and watched me, mini-boobs jiggling, strip and head for the showers. He tried to get the others to head for the pool, but I was providing a free show, and they conveniently ignored him. I was red to my toes, and trembling, but I managed to get showered, and jiggle my way back to the locker, where I donned a slightly modified girl's Speedo suit, stuffed my hair under my swim cap just like I used to, and headed for the pool. The suit made my butt wiggle, and I got a lot of whistles. I wondered if I could hide on the bottom. The entire girls' class seemed to be waiting to check me out. The coaches finally got everyone's attention by turning the washdown hose on cold, and soaking us. When I looked down, the cold water had turned my nipples into giant, protruding goose-bumps. I was glad to see the other girls had the same problem. I had a better figure, even as tiny as I was, than many of the other girls. And when I caught the "other girls'" thought, I knew I wouldn't to be able to go back to being Paul. I wound up sitting on the edge of the pool, crying, and being consoled by several of the older female swimmers. But when I started swimming I forgot all about what I was wearing. I now floated higher in the water, and seemed to move a tiny bit slower. But as before, I was part pollywog. They almost had to drag me out of the pool. Along with several others. It was a lot easier getting dressed. The coach threatened mayhem to anyone staring at me. Then he stared. It took me longer than I expected to dress, so I was the center of attraction. Wanda and Amy met me outside the gym complex. They looked really worried. When I told them about being gift-wrapped and shuttled between locker rooms, they laughed themselves silly. Mom and Dad brought home Chinese, but when I finally started to relax, I broke down and bawled my eyes out until I was spent and shaking. Dad carried me up to my room, and Mom undressed me and tucked me in under the covers. I was still awake and shaking when Wanda and Amy climbed in, and made a snuggle sandwich out of me. That was how Mom found us the next morning, when she came to wake me for school. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. Tuesday was a lot easier. I got a lot of ribbing. And offers for dates. What surprised me were the number of girls trying to hit on me. The locker room was much quieter. I was startled when the girls' coach told me that if I ever felt uncomfortable, or needed to get away from the guys, I was welcome on her side. I cried happy tears on her shoulder. It was mid-March when I met Ginny. She was a transfer student from the Deep South, incredibly shy, with a wonderful, soft accent. And she was as little as me. She attached herself to me like glue, saying she had always gone to a private girls' school, and was afraid of all the huge boys who were staring at her. When I said I was one of the boys, she refused to believe me. When she saw me use the boys' restroom, she freaked. I finally dug a copy of my paperwork out of my locker, and had her read it. That got me a flood of tears and another "you poor soul" outburst. But she stayed glued to me. She was so different from Amy and Wanda. She was like a squirrel, chatty yet shy. Soon we were getting together almost every day to study. Her mom was so happy to have her find another little person to talk to. We neglected to mention I was a boy under the skirts. During the spring break in April, Wanda and Amy caught the two of us, half- naked, snuggling together under the covers in my room. I was afraid Amy would go ballistic. Ginny started to tremble and cry. They looked at us, kissed each other, and asked if they could join in. Ginny was a virgin. In all aspects. But she watched in fascination as my sister and Amy spent almost an hour making love to each other. When she snuggled back up against me, she was sopping wet, and quivering. I asked the other two to leave, and they wobbled out. I had learned well from the two of them. By the time I slid my hand into her panties, I was nibbling on her breasts, and she was begging for me to do more. I brought her to several crashing orgasms, and took care of my own needs by hand as she slept soundly next to me. When she told me it was her first time, I asked if she had ever played with herself, and she shook her head, saying she was too shy. The next day I asked my sister and Amy to give her lessons. She was a quick study. They also, without my expecting it, taught her all they could remember from my afternoon with Chuck. On Friday she started on me early, and I was too exhausted to move after her third experiment with oral sex. Her mouth and throat were small, which meant I was a tight fit. God, it felt good. In late April her mom found out I was a boy when she came in while we were sharing a shower. That caused a lot of trouble, and she was banned from seeing me. My mom finally got her mom to sit down and talk, and I wound up, again, giving an anatomy class. Ginny threatened to run away, and I guess her mom finally realized I was not some sort of perverted sex fiend, and relented. So our moms bundled the two of us off to Ginny's gynecologist for a lecture and demonstration on birth control techniques. We insisted we had not done anything, and her doctor said she was definitely still a virgin. Which did absolutely no good. Plus, I got told to start doing self-examinations of my breasts. In June we decided it was time, and made use of the birth-control lecture. And discovered boy-girl sex was good, but not better than what we had been doing. So we added it to our repertoire. I was now almost a "B" cup, which was more than plenty on my small frame. Ginny and I could exchange almost everything that wasn't fitted. She had a natural 20-inch waist. Mine was a rock-solid 24. We spent the fall confusing people who didn't know us, and ruining the grading curve in class. It was funny to hear comments about "those two little lesbians". We had to beat the real lesbians off with a stick. Ginny remained shy about being naked even among friends. Regardless of gender. We made it through to Christmas without any further disasters. One of my best Christmas presents was unexpected. It was the official paperwork making me Paula instead of Paul. I even got a new driver's license. And except for a few intolerant idiots, I've been accepted by most of the students. I had to change teachers once. And almost got suspended for trying to neuter some joker who pinched my nipples "to see if they were real." That was a month ago and he still walks funny. ***** So now I'm sitting here, watching my gay best friend give an erotic massage to my sister's mostly lesbian girlfriend/lover. And getting a tingle knowing that I'm next in turn for the massage oil. Ginny's been taking lessons from Chuck's mom. Chuck really has a way with me, though. But I'm not gay. Well, maybe a little. Finis.