How I Spent My Summer free porn video

Author's note: As with all my stories, this is a fantasy and should be read and understood as such. I would never encourage or condone the type of behaviour described, even though it is non-violent, and would not like to think that any reader believes otherwise. Some of you may find this story long, as much of my work tends to be. I try to create a believable character, within the constraints of an admittedly unlikely fantasy... that a character can be put through gender changes without suffering real harm. The first part of the story takes a while, so please have patience. I hope that you will find the effort rewarding, although each of us has our own likes and dislikes and not every story works as its author would like. Reviews are eagerly read. As an author in this medium, I find feedback both important and hard to get. I understand why the 'reader count' is no more, but (unless one cheated) it did at least let an author know whether his/her story had been read, and presumably enjoyed. Now we are limited to comments, so please feel free to post yours. Only by hearing from you can I adjust my style to better capture your imagination. Which is after all a good part of what an author strives to do. HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER By Aleisha James My childhood had been uneventful, but troubled by a coldness, which seemed to originate with my father. He seemed incapable of relaxing, of allowing himself emotional freedom. It was clear that he loved my mother very much, and even loved me, in a reserved manner, but there was always a sense that he was holding back. I never knew why. One summer everything changed. This is the story of that time. 'Your father has been in an accident. I'm afraid that he has been very badly injured, but he will survive' The words struck me hard, since I had had no idea why I had been called to the office. I had worried whether one of my minor misdeeds had got me into trouble. Expecting to be met with mild anger or disappointment, I had been greeted instead with solicitude, the reason for which had just come clear. I felt dizzy and my reaction must have shown in my expression because the school nurse hurried forward to take my arm and guide me to a chair. The headmaster leaned forward across his desk, concern written across his usually impassive face, as his hands played with a fountain pen. 'Your mother has gone to be with him: she will be on her flight now. So I'm afraid that I must tell you that you won't be going home this vacation. Your mother tells me that she has made arrangements for you to stay with your grandmother.' I was still trying to absorb the shock of the news of father's injury, but I was still aware of my disappointment that my mother would fly off to see my father, leaving me behind. Why hadn't she taken me? My father had been on a business trip almost on the other side of the world. How could she leave me behind. (I was so selfish at that age, that I hardly thought of my mother's anguish when she made the decision) It was all I could do to maintain my composure, but boys don't cry especially when they've already reached the lofty age of sixteen. The headmaster seemed relieved when the nurse looked up and told him that she would see me back to my room. She led me back upstairs, telling me in her quiet but assured voice that she what she had heard about father's injuries. She told me that mother had assured them that he was going to be fine. 'But I understand that right now he's in quite a bad way, and will not be fit to travel for many weeks. Your mother will be with him most of the time, and she felt that it wouldn't be fair to you to have you travel so far, and spend the summer amongst strangers. That's why your grandmother will be picking you up next week, after term ends' 'But my grandmother (I was careful not to say granny) is sick herself. She can't drive' Nurse looked confused. 'Well, she called here this morning, and I distinctly heard her say that she would be by. She sounded very healthy!' A cold suspicion formed in my heart. 'Was it my mother's mother or my father's?' I asked. 'I don't know, dear. I believe that she used your own surname, so I suppose that makes her your paternal grandmother. Does it matter?' I shrugged the question off, pretending that it didn't matter at all, but internally I was puzzled. My father and his mother never spoke. Not rarely. Never. I had only seen her once, at a funeral of a great-uncle and I remembered that while my mother had been as outgoing as possible, my father had been cold and distant, pulling us away as soon as was decent, or even earlier. And his always-introverted manner had been even worse than normal for some time afterwards. Grandmother had sent cards and small gifts at Christmas and on birthdays, for which my mother made me, write polite thank-you notes, but we never visited. I knew very little about her. I knew that the rift was a source of concern for my mother, since I had overheard her pressing father to be more forgiving (although for what I had no idea at the time), but to my knowledge he had never accepted that advice. He had merely repeated that he wanted nothing to do with 'that woman' and was adamant that she have no contact with us. So why was I being consigned to her care for the summer? The rest of the week passed quickly enough. Word had got out somehow, through the grapevine, and I was the object of a lot of sympathy from the teachers and from my classmates. I pretended to take it all in stride, but I was relieved when my mother called the day after I learned the news. She told me that father was very ill: he had fractured his spine and his skull. He was paralyzed at the moment, but part of that was due to the medication: they wanted to keep him as still as possible while they treated his injuries and waited for the swelling to go down. The doctors were optimistic that he would eventually pull through, but he was going to be in rehab for several months even if things went well. I could hear the strain in her voice so I tried to sound cheerful. 'You know that you are to stay with Grandma Richards?' I acknowledged that I had been told so. 'I know that she's almost a stranger, Johnny, but she's not the monster your father thinks she is. They got along fine when he was young, but something happened, I don't know what, and he's never gotten over it. Whatever it was, he just can't bring himself to forgive her. But there's no need for you to worry: I've spoken to her and she will look after you very well. You promise to behave: do whatever she asks you to do, and don't cause her any problems. Your father and I need to know that you'll be okay. He needs as little extra stress as possible. So promise to do what she asks?' 'I promise' I said. 'No matter what?' 'I said I promise, Mum!' 'You remember your promise, Johnny. I knew her when I was younger and she sometimes does things a little out of the ordinary, but it'll be for your own good. I'd promise to call, but the time difference is so much that I won't be able to do so very often. I'll write as often as I can. You write back, okay?' 'Okay' 'It'll be all right, Johnny. You have a good summer, and remember that your father and I love you' 'I love you too' I said, a lump forming in my throat. The day finally arrived. My grandmother had come to take me to her home, about which I knew almost nothing. I had the vague idea that she was wealthy and that she lived alone in a big house in the country. I was half-dreading and half anticipating the journey to my summer home. Grandmother surprised me. She was driving a new Jaguar, redolent with wood and leather. She wore a blue-grey business suit, its knee-length skirt revealing surprisingly trim legs. I suppose that I was like any other teenager: it was difficult to see anyone of her generation as anything but old. But she didn't seem old as she swept me along and ushered me into the quiet luxury of the front seat. I examined her closely as she steered the car down the winding driveway, which led from the school grounds to the nearby highway. She looked far younger than I remembered or had expected. I knew that she had to be at least sixty, but she seemed much younger even than Ms. Forest, one of our teachers, who had celebrated her fiftieth birthday last month. I had noted that she had seemed to be the same height as me as we had walked to the car, which meant, after factoring in her heels, that she must be about five foot six. There was a real resemblance between her face, with its full mouth and clear blue eyes, and my father. I knew that I looked like my father as well, from old school photographs he had in his den. There was little doubt that this attractive middle-aged woman was related to me. Anyone passing by might have been forgiven for mistaking us for mother and son. Grandmother was full of cheerful commentary as she drove us towards my new home. The trip lasted several hours, including a detour to a small village where we ate lunch at an expensive restaurant. We sat beneath a large umbrella, shielded from the unseasonably warm sunshine, eating an artfully presented, but to my eyes woefully small, lunch. Grandmother insisted that I call her Ma'am which, struck me as very old- fashioned and overly formal, but maybe, I reflected, that was appropriate, since we were strangers despite our family relationship. I was thoroughly bored, and very hungry, by the time we pulled to a stop in front of her house, the tires scrunching on the tightly packed gravel driveway. My initial anxiety had faded, and although I was still troubled by my father's clear dislike for her, nothing in her manner gave me any hint that the feeling was mutual or that she harbored any resentment towards him. Indeed, she several times reassured me that she was sure that he would be fine, and that she was looking forward to having a 'young person' around the house. She opened the trunk for me and I wrestled my two suitcases out of the car, to carry them into the house. I paused before mounting the wide stone steps which led to the double doors, one of which opened seemingly of its own accord just as grandmother approached. Looking about, I saw that the wealth revealed by choice of car was reflected as well in her house. The driveway curved away through carefully tended, and very orderly, flowerbeds and shrubs beyond which I could see a manicured lawn. This was a very impressive, although isolated, house. I lowered my gaze and, grunting with the effort, which I tried to conceal, lugged my suitcases up the shallow steps and into the cool, inviting interior. I managed to conceal my surprise when I saw that a dark-haired young woman in a formal maid's costume held the door open. The maid closed the door behind us and I took the opportunity to covertly look her over. I was at that age when young males, especially those confined for much of the year to an all-male boarding school, were both aroused and intimidated by attractive young women. The maid appeared to be perhaps in her early twenties, which was quite old as far as I was concerned. Nevertheless, she was very pretty, and the sight of her long, shapely legs, clad in dark nylons and plain low-heeled pumps fascinated me. Her uniform dress came down to mid-thigh and I felt warmth in my groin and a stirring of my organ as she gave an abbreviated curtsey to my grandmother before looking at me expectantly. Even then curtsies where long out of fashion, but for some reason I found the gesture to be very enticing. 'Marie, this is my grandson, Johnny. Please show him to his room so that he may put away his clothing and then show him around the house. I will be in the study until dinner' She turned to me. 'Johnny, please go with Marie. She will help you get settled and show you around the house. Kindly stay inside for now, we will show you the grounds later' Satisfied that she had provided us with sufficient instruction, grandmother strode away. 'Please follow me' Marie's voice was soft and sultry, and the sound made me even more physically aware of her presence. I lifted my suitcases again, determined to make them seem to be no problem for me. I secretly hoped that she would try to lift one herself, and be awed by how easily I handled the two of them. I was to be disappointed as she turned away and began to climb the wide, wooden-railed staircase which swept up to a hallway from which one could look down upon the entrance hall. I followed her, with the bags straining my sinews. Her buttocks swiveled captivatingly before my eyes, which were at the same level as her rear as we ascended the stairs. Looking back on it, I am sure that she put an extra effort into her walk, knowing that I would appreciate the view, which almost made up for the pain in my arms as I struggled up the stairs. By the time she mercifully came to a stop outside the door to what was to be my bedroom, I could have sworn that my arms were a good three inches longer than they had been when I started. I left one suitcase in the hall while carrying the other into the room. Setting it down I pretended to be inspecting the room before returning for the other, savoring the chance to recover my strength. In truth, the room did bear inspection. It was easily twice as large as the room I shared at school. A large, mullioned window gave out onto what I gathered was the side of the property. Lawns and shrubs all as carefully tended as those at the front, stretched out of sight. Grandmother's property was huge. A queen-sized bed occupied a good portion of the far side of the room, flanked by small nightstands, each supporting an ornate lamp with a pleated shade. Several pictures hung on the cream-colored wallpaper, which was flecked with gold. The pictures were portraits of young girls or women dressed what I thought of as a Victorian style, with long, elaborate dresses and hair piled atop their heads or cascading down their backs. Directly in front of where I stood were two low chairs set around a glass- topped coffee table, strewn with an assortment of magazines. Most of the covers were hidden beneath other magazines but the ones I could see appeared to be of the kind read by teenage girls. That struck me as odd. Given that grandmother had at least suggested that I was the first 'young person' she had had stay at the house for many years. I suspected that she did not think of staff as really counting, but still the choice of magazines was unusual. Maybe some young girl had recently left. In fact, the whole room struck me as somehow inappropriate; as a place where I was not sure I would be comfortable. It was too soft, too feminine. Even the drapes were wrong, at least for me. They hung on either side of the window, the heavy white silk caught and held back by sashes of cream fabric, matching the wallpaper, while lace sheers filtered the light. The pleated lampshades were the same white as the drapes, with pink ribbons threaded around the bottom. The bed itself bore a pink duvet, and the deep carpet on which I stood was a shade of white midway between that of the walls and the white of the drapes. I made a mental shrug. Clearly grandmother had been out of touch with young men for far too long, but I would be able to get her to make changes or maybe move me to another room. I lifted the suitcase onto the bed and retrieved the other from the hall. Marie had been standing silent to one side, but now she came forward and offered to assist me unpacking and putting my clothes away. Her perfume filled my nostrils as she came near and I felt my face burn with a mix of embarrassment and desire. She appeared oblivious to the effect she was having on me, for which I gave a silent prayer of thanks. Taking a pile of underwear out of the first suitcase (hurriedly since I did not want her to touch my underwear!) I looked for someplace to put it. There were two tall dressers standing side by side just beyond the window and, walking the short distance to them, I placed my load on top of the nearest. I was just pulling open the top drawer when Marie materialized beside me. 'Not in the top drawers, Johnny! They are full of other clothes. You should put the ones you brought with you in the bottom two drawers in each dresser' Her small hand, the oval nails with merely a sheen of pink polish, pressed against the drawer. I drew my hand away and watched as she pushed the drawer shut. It had opened no more than a couple of inches, but I swear that it looked like it was full of girl's clothing. I had a quick impression of seeing pale silks and satins. A chill struck me for some reason. My impression that something weird was going on came back stronger than ever, but any questioning of Marie died on my lips before I uttered a sound. Something about the calm, confident manner in which she proceeded to help me unpack, as if nothing untoward were going on, silenced me completely. We finishing unpacking and I zipped the suitcases closed. Marie took one and I the other as she led the way back into the hall. The next room down the hall was a bathroom, equipped with a large, old-fashioned bathtub and a separate shower stall. The toilet was at the far end of the room, and a long vanity ran along the wall to the left, beneath an enormous mirror. I saw plush towels on a rack, and Marie commented that the tiled floor was heated, which I thought was a nice touch. Back in the hall, Marie led me to the end and up some narrow stairs, which were awkward with the cases. I was thankful that we had not had to use these stairs on the way to the room. 'These used to be for servants, in the old days' she said, when I made a comment. We climbed past a third floor and into what had to be the attic, where she opened a door, which gave onto a dark space huddled beneath the sloping roof. She leaned inside and pulled on a cord and a naked light bulb lit up the room which was crowded with pieces of old furniture, and a number of boxes, trunks and tired looking suitcases. It looked as if no one had been in here for a long, long time. We placed my bags in the room and, turning off the light made our way down the stairs. The ensuing tour of the house took about forty minutes, and left me impressed by the sheer size of it. The third floor contained a rabbit warren of small rooms, which Marie told me were the original servants' quarters. In the old days, she said, a house such as this would have an inside staff of as many as five people, with at least two full-time gardeners. It reminded me of an old television program I had seen: Upstairs, Downstairs, I think it was. Marie agreed with me, but said that these days she was the only one still 'living-in'. 'Your grandmother has a cook who visits every day, usually for lunch and dinner, while the gardener's work on a contract basis. A Mrs. Evans comes by to do the heavy housework twice a week, but your grandmother rarely entertains and she has few guests, so there's not too much work to do' 'What do you do, Marie' I ventured. She stopped and looked at me, a smile flirting with her lips. 'I do whatever your grandmother wants me to do, young Johnny' she said. She winked, before turning away and leading me on to another part of the house. I was dumbstruck. She had winked at me! Gathering my emotions, I followed on. Part of the third floor had been renovated, with walls knocked down and rooms joined together. Thus Marie's room, which she let me glance into briefly, but which she would not allow me to enter, was the size of two of the other rooms, and she had her own bathroom which was as large and well-equipped as the one I was to use. Although from the front the house had appeared monolithic, it was apparent from the inside that it was built around a courtyard formed at the back, with the sides of the house extending backwards in two wings. My room was on the left side, as one looked at the house from the front. Grandmother's rooms were on the opposite side; taking up the entire wing. Marie once more restricted me to a glance into the outer rooms, and did not let me even glimpse her bedroom or her bathroom. Downstairs was more formal, with a large, somewhat dark dining room with polished furniture and a table big enough to seat sixteen or so. A sitting room stood separate from what Marie described as a living room. Another formally furnished room, with floor to ceiling shelves filled with leather-bound books which may looked as if they may never have been read, was the library. The entranceway, through which I had come into the house, contained a tall grandfather clock, whose gleaming pendulum swung slowly behind the glass case. Oriental rugs covered the hardwood floor. The kitchen lay in the wing beneath my bedroom. It was quite a contrast to the dark wood and understated dignity of the rest of the ground floor. The floor was in gleaming, white tile, while most of the walls were hidden behind a formidable array of ranges, sinks, cupboards and counters. Copper-bottomed pots and pans hung from hooks suspended from rectangular racks in several areas. The ranges and cooktops seemed enough to operate a large restaurant, and Marie confirmed that the house used to entertain as many as twenty people for full-scale formal dining. 'That table you saw in the dining room can be extended to seat even more' she said, before adding, with a note of regret 'But those days are over now' A whitewashed door led to wooden stairs, which descended to the cellar. She led me down, turning on lights by tugging cords as she had in the attic. There was not much to see down there, other than the wine cellar. I had not yet been allowed to drink wine: my experience of alcohol was limited to the couple of times that some of my classmates had got hold of some beer, which we had all drunk, pretending to enjoy the taste and acting as if we were seasoned drinkers. The wine cellar was full of old racks. I had expected to see rows of dusty bottles, their labels hidden by cobwebs and other signs of age. Instead, I saw row upon row of bottles lying in their racks, with only the faintest layer of dust, and with small cardboard tags dangling from the neck of each of them. Marie showed me that the tacks bore the names of the wine and their vintage. I looked over several racks, but their names meant little to me then. Later I was to realize that the cellar contained a fortune in expensive wines, and I was to learn to appreciate the nuances of bouquet, nose, and body. For now, I merely tried to conceal my ignorance, although I wasn't fooling anyone. The tour finished, Marie told me that I was on my own for the next hour or so, until dinner was ready. She suggested I go to the sitting room that had been readied for me. It was close to my bedroom, and was surprisingly well equipped. It had a comfortable sofa and a matching, leather reclining chair. A large, new television sat next to one of those all-in-one mini stereo systems, with small but, as I was to find good speakers. The main problem was the selection of music, which ran to classical and soft rock ballads. Hardly the type of music I was accustomed to. At least I had brought my own cassettes! There was cablevision for the television (a novelty in those days), so I passed the next hour checking out the channels. She had a greater selection than had been available at school. Dinner came as a relief. I was already wondering whether I would find something to do. Maybe the grounds would offer some outlet, or maybe I could make friends with some kids from the nearby village, but neither was likely until I was allowed outside. Vaguely aware that grandmother would probably want me to look neat for dinner, I didn't change from the shirt and kakhi pants I had worn from school, even though I expected to spend most of the summer in blue jeans, or shorts, and tee-shirts. That was perhaps my most misplaced prediction of all time. Despite what I thought of as my neat appearance, grandmother frowned as I entered the dining room and sat at the place clearly set for me. She sat at one end of the enormous table while I sat perhaps four feet down on one side. The dark wood glowed from what I imagined to be decades of polishing and waxing. The linen was immaculate and the cutlery heavy silver, with no hint of tarnish. Each place setting had several glasses, of different shapes. Marie served the food, although I was to learn that 'Cook' had prepared the food. First came soup: a cold beef consomm?, accompanied by a red wine. Grandmother instructed Marie to pour me a small amount of the wine. Over the course of the meal we were served a salad consisting of a poached pear with some unusual (to me) leaf lettuce, red grapes and a pungent soft cheese. The entree was poached salmon, served with a chilled Chardonnay. The food was wonderful, and I was excited to be allowed to drink wine, which made me feel very adult. The tastes of the different wines were all novel to me, and not particularly pleasant, at the time. Despite the great food and the thrill of drinking alcohol, the meal was still something of an endurance event for me. One problem was that the portions of food were tiny. I was a growing boy, even though I was one of the smaller students in my class, and I had a ravenous appetite, which had hardly been assuaged by the small lunch we had eaten hours ago. Grandmother's attitude was the other problem. She no longer seemed as cheerful as she had been during our drive. She had frowned as I entered, and then immediately began criticizing my table manners. I ate too quickly, and I made the mistake of resting an elbow on the table. I chewed too noisily, and didn't use the napkin properly. I even made mistakes choosing which piece of cutlery to use with which dish. So I was relieved when she finally asked me whether I would 'like to be excused'. I said yes and stood, trying hard to act politely. She called to me, as I was about to leave. 'Johnny, you should give me a kiss before you depart the dining room' I stopped in my tracks and turned to face her. She was looking at me with a level gaze, her face impassive. I walked to her side and she lifted her head, turning her face to offer me a cheek. I leaned forward and gave her a peck on her cheek, before making for the exit, my face burning in embarrassment. She had made me feel like a very young, very immature child. I spent the rest of the evening watching television until Marie came by at about ten o'clock. She was still wearing her maid's uniform, but she looked as fresh and pretty as she had on my arrival. 'Your grandmother insists that everyone retire early, Johnny. You should turn off the television and go to bed' I wanted to protest, but realized that I was getting tired anyway, so I complied. Having brushed my teeth I returned to my bedroom to change into my pajamas. They were in one of the dressers and while I was pulling open the drawer, I remembered my glimpse into the top drawer, which Marie had closed on me. Intrigued, I carefully opened the drawer, trying for some reason to do it as silently as possible. Sure enough, the top dresser was filled with lingerie, in an assortment of colors. I had never seen, and certainly never touched, anything like it. This drawer was full of panties, all in silk or satin. Some of them were very plain, while others had lace trim, or even ruffles. They came in different styles as well, as I found out when, almost against my will, I took several out and held them up. There were tiny bikini briefs, full-cut panties, and then there were what looked like a feminine version of boxers... which I later learned were French knickers. I placed the panties back in the drawer, trying to make it look as if they had not been disturbed. I was aware of a subtle perfume emanating from the lingerie. I opened the next drawer and sure enough it too was full of girl's clothing. This time I found slips and teddies and camisoles, all in silk and satin and again in a variety of colors and styles, with that same elusive but very pleasant fragrance. Quickly now I looked through the other drawers. I found a profusion of feminine clothing, including garterbelts, nylons in unopened packages, bras (some of which seemed to have padding) and even a couple of negligees. It occurred to me that I had not yet looked in the closet. I had had only a couple of jackets to hang up, and Marie had taken care of those. The closet doors opened readily enough. My two jackets hung at one end of the closet, completely out of place amidst the finery on display. There were maybe twenty dresses of one kind or another, all seeming brand new. Coats and jackets in cashmere or suede hung from several hangers, amongst an assortment of blouses. The other end of the closet was filled with a floor-to-ceiling set of sloping shelves, with wooden bars laid across the middle of the shelf. Each shelf was filled with several pairs of footwear, all women's shoes and all the same size. The styles ranged from soft marabou slippers to elegant open-toed stiletto heels. I was stunned. All of these expensive looking clothes, all looking brand-new and all apparently for a young girl... what was going on? Was someone else going to be staying here this summer? A girl and I assumed from the clothes I had seen, someone at most a couple of years older than I? Why hadn't grandmother mentioned it, and why was her stuff in my room? My earlier thought that the magazines were left behind by a now-departed visitor made no sense. No girl I knew would leave such clothes behind. Well, I thought, that's not so bad. If she comes, she can have this room.. it does look like a girl's room anyway. I wonder where I'll end up? I knew, from my tour with Marie, that there were at least four other bedrooms available, although in each of them I had seen the furniture covered with dust covers and obviously in disuse. I told myself that I had hit upon the answer to this little mystery. I would find a way to pry confirmation out of either grandmother or Marie tomorrow morning. Even though this was my first night at the house and even though I was still hungry, I fell asleep without difficulty, waking to the morning light streaming in through the sheers, feeling comfortable and relaxed. A knock sounded on the door and I realized that it was the second knock; the first was what had awoken me. Struggling to sit up in the soft bed, I called out a welcome. The door opened and Marie walked in, looking first to see whether I was decent. She was as pretty as I remembered, dressed again in a maid's uniform, but this one was in grey cotton rather than the black silk she had worn yesterday. The frilly white apron looked the same, although it was so unwrinkled and brilliantly white that maybe it too was new. She smiled as she carried a breakfast tray across to my bed. The sight of the tray and my realization of my hunger drew my attention away from her charms. I was disappointed at the meal itself: all I saw was a half-grapefruit in a small bowl, with a tiny silver spoon bearing a serrated edge and a plate with two slices of dry toast. A glass of what looked like orange juice and a small vase containing a carnation completed the presentation. Marie must have seen my expression. 'You want more food, don't you, Johnny?' I looked up at her. 'I really appreciate you bringing me breakfast, Marie' I said. 'But I'm starving. I could eat three times this much and still be hungry' 'I know, but this is all there is. Perhaps I can speak to your grandmother for you. Would you like that?' I nodded. 'Yes, please' She left me alone to eat my meager meal. It didn't take me long to finish. I thought about lying in bed for a while but then I realized that maybe I could explore the nearby village, and maybe use some of my modest stash of money to buy something to last me until lunch. By then, Marie would have explained that a growing teenage boy has a bottomless appetite. I showered and got dressed, choosing jeans and a short-sleeved casual shirt that my mother had sent for my birthday earlier in the year. I found my favorite runners and made my way downstairs. I had my hand on the front door handle when my grandmother caught up with me. 'Johnny! Where do you think you are going?' 'Just outside, grandmother. I thought I'd take a look around. I won't get lost... we take orienteering at school' 'I thought I told you that you were not to leave the house without my consent' I nodded, sheepishly. 'Besides, you and I have to have a talk. I have been very disappointed in your manners and your behaviour. You and I are going to discuss some ground rules' She turned her back on me and strode away, clearly expecting me to follow. I lingered for a moment, my hand still on the doorknob. I was beginning to see why my father disliked her so intensely, or so I thought... Then my promise to my mother echoed in my head. I had promised to obey my grandmother, so I had no choice. I followed her into the sitting room where she sat and motioned me to sit opposite her. I did so, staying erect, sitting on the edge of the cloth- covered chair. She looked at me for several minutes, an unreadable expression on her face. I fought back the urge to speak first, and was glad I had when she finally stirred and began to speak. Her voice was quiet, pitched so that I instinctively leaned towards her as she spoke. There was no trace of anger in her tone. 'Johnny, you and I have never really known each other. Your father harbors resentment against me for scars he believes he bears from his childhood. It no longer matters who was right or who was wrong. I still love him, and you are his child, so naturally I love you. You do believe that, don't you?' She looked at me with such sincerity that I had to nod. 'Our family... your family... has never accepted so called 'normal' or conventional values. We have for generations prided ourselves on our ability to be above the common herd, to exemplify manners and courtesy. Good behaviour seems less and less popular these days, but then every generation believes that the one that follows is more unruly, more crude and degenerate than theirs. I suppose that I am no exception to that mistaken belief, yet when I see how young men, even young men with the advantages which have been afforded to you, misbehave, I sometimes despair' I sat mute, mentally reviewing my conduct. I could think of nothing I had done wrong. 'Fortunately, in our family we have developed a method of training our young men to a higher level of behaviour; to an awareness of the importance of good manners and civility. It is a custom best begun before the upset of puberty, but it will work whenever it is applied with proper thoroughness, even at your age. Your mother understands this, even if your father has rejected as much of it as he can.' I was puzzled, with no idea where this was leading. Mother knew of this? Why hadn't she said something. What was going on? Still I sat silent, with a growing sense of unease creeping coldly into my stomach. 'The method is not foolproof; sometimes it results in unintended consequences, such as happened to your uncle. I think sometimes that your father resents your uncle's happiness, although he has no reason to, given how much he and your mother love each other' I couldn't control myself. 'My uncle?? I have an uncle??' 'Well, you had one. Now it might be better to say that you have an aunt. You will get to meet her later this summer, when I think the time is right' Neither of my parents had ever mentioned an uncle or an aunt on this side of the family. And what did she mean by calling him an uncle and then an aunt? Was he some kind of hermaphrodite or something? Grandmother's expression made it clear that I was to sit back down. I had not even realized that I had gotten to my feet. 'Johnny, remember that you promised your mother to do as you are told! You did mean that, didn't you?' 'Yes, Ma'am' I said, seeing her visibly relax at my use of the salutation. 'Your mother is a wonderful woman who loves you dearly and who needs the peace of mind of knowing that you will keep your word. Do you understand?' 'Yes, Ma'am' She reached out to the small table beside her, picking up a gilt-framed photograph. Extending her arm, she handed the portrait to me. I saw two young girls in very feminine dresses, their long hair tied with ribbons and hanging down their backs. They were standing on either side of a seated woman I recognized as a much younger version of my grandmother. The two girls were facing each other, one hand resting on back of grandmother's chair and the other holding a bouquet of flowers. Their faces were slightly turned towards the camera, so that their smiling expressions were clearly visible. They seemed poised and confident, but in a non-assertive way. They looked as if they were about fourteen years old. 'Do you recognize anyone in this picture?' 'That's you seated, isn't it, Ma'am?' 'Yes, it is, dear. But do you recognize either of the young ladies?' 'No' 'Take another look. The girl on the left is your father, while the other girl is your uncle'' I stared closer. I had never seen any pictures of my father from his childhood, and his appearance was so naturally feminine in this photograph that it took me a real effort to focus on the underlying facial features. But a sinking feeling told me that grandmother was telling me the truth! I handed the photograph back to her, my eyes widening in fear as I realized what this portended. Grandmother looked at me levelly, her eye appraising my reaction. 'Your father and his brother dressed as girls every summer and every vacation until your father left home when he was eighteen. They were schooled to understand and display the proper behaviour expected of young ladies as they grew and matured. During the school year, they lived as boys, since our family's policy has always been to produce males, males with the manners and courtesies which place them above the common, unruly herd' 'Your mother knew of this training: her mother, bless her memory, was a good friend of mine and your father and mother spent several summers playing together when they were young. Much of that time was as two young girls, of course, but nevertheless, and as we had hoped, they fell in love as man and woman. I often think that her mother would have liked to use this training technique had she had any sons. So now your mother has suggested that it is time that you experienced your feminine side, since it worked so well in assisting your father to be a loving husband.' I felt rooted to the floor, all blood drained from my face. I sensed that my mouth was hanging open and I felt very cold and shaky. Part of me wanted to scream and run and another part of me seemed to be standing outside of my body, observing my reaction with a detached interest. What made the whole scene impossible to comprehend was the calm, matter-of-fact way in which my grandmother had dropped her bombshell. Thoughts skittered across my mind. Instinct told me to protest that my mother would never let her do this, but that reaction ran smack into my mother's admonitions to me and the confidence with which grandmother told me that my mother had asked her to do this to me. Grandmother paused for a long while before smiling. She stood, saying 'Don't be so afraid, Johnny. None of your friends need ever know. It's only while you are here, and no one knows that I have my grandson staying with me. You won't meet anyone until you are quite presentable, and you'll go back to being a boy before you return to school. Look at it as a holiday from having to be so masculine. Who knows? You might like it!' The moment in which I might have reacted violently had gone. The immediate shock was receding, leaving me with a feeling of exhaustion. Grandmother nodded, as if making up her mind. 'Marie has been rearranging your room, my dear. It's time you started acting as a young lady. Let's go upstairs' She took my unresisting hand in hers and led me from the room and up the stairs to my bedroom. Marie was waiting inside. I saw her make eye contact with grandmother, who gave her a tiny nod of the head. Marie instantly smiled and greeted me with a hug. 'Ma cherie!' she said. 'We're going to have so much fun this summer' Despite my numbed state of mind, I found the warmth of her embrace and the smell of her body very arousing. My penis immediately stiffened and I'm sure that she had to have felt it. But she gave no sign of it, instead releasing me from her arms. Crossing to the closet, she threw open the doors, revealing the rows of feminine attire waiting within. It was clear now: the female clothing I had found in the room was intended for me! 'I'll leave you in Marie's hands, Jennie. You are to be a good girl and to obey Marie as if her instructions came directly from me' With those parting words, grandmother was gone before I could respond; before I had absorbed her calling me Jennie. Marie wasted no time. 'Jennie, you heard your grandmother. You will be a good girl for me, won't you?' I couldn't resist. My nod conveyed my surrender. She smiled warmly. 'We shall begin by having you get rid of those boy clothes. You won't need them again until your summer is over. Get undressed and then we'll see what we have to work with.' I sat on the edge of the bed to pull of my shoes and my socks, waiting for Marie to leave so that I could finish undressing. She didn't move. I stopped undressing and looked at her, unable to say anything. 'Come along, Jennie. We have a lot of work to do today, and we can't start until you get undressed' 'B...but...' was all I could manage. 'Are you embarrassed, Jennie?' 'Yes... yes, I am. I can't get undressed with you here' 'At school, did you have showers in front of other boys?' 'Yes, but...' 'Don't give me any buts, Jennie. You are now a girl, just like me. When you were a boy, you were not shy in front of other boys. Now that you are a girl, you should not be shy in front of other girls! Your body is a little different from that of most young ladies, maybe, but the point is that from this moment until you are allowed to return to being a boy, you are a girl. Your name is Jennie. My name is Marie. I am a girl, and so are you. So don't be embarrassed or ashamed of your body. Besides, you have nothing I haven't seen many times before' I stood and pulled my tee shirt over my head and then turned to face away from her as I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. Pushing the jeans and my shorts down my legs, I stepped out of them awkwardly, determined not to let her see my genitals. I noted with alarm that my penis, which had so recently been aroused, was now shrunken as small as I had ever seen it, as if it were trying to hide away of its own accord. 'Come over here, Jennie' Flushing bright red, I turned and walked hesitantly towards her, my right hand cupped over my groin and my eyes staring at the carpet. 'Put this on, Jennie' She held out a pink housecoat, with embroidered cuffs and lapel. I took it with mixed feelings, glad to have something to cover my naked body but ashamed that I was wearing my first female garment. Marie led me to the bathroom where she told me to disrobe and hang my housecoat on the back of the door. She was very matter-of-fact, and completely ignored my shyness. She made me stand still while she rubbed a pungent, thick cream over my legs and even my forearms, which had little hair. She inspected my torso carefully before telling me that she was pleased that I had so little hair. 'Some boys grow hair everywhere! And we girls can't look like that, can we, Jennie?' I said nothing, my head bowed. 'Can we, Jennie? I asked you a question, dear' 'No' I answered, my voice low and hesitant. 'Now, into the shower with you, young lady' The warm water sprayed out with surprising force. I don't know why, but I had always associated old houses with old, deficient plumbing. There was nothing wrong with the water pressure in this place. I turned under the spray, raising my face and then my arms. Marie reached in and handed me a face cloth and told me to rub wherever the cream had been applied. As I did so I saw my body hair washing away, looking like filings caught in the foamy water as it spiraled down the drain. Marie beckoned me out of the shower and wrapped me in a huge, fluffy white towel. She made me stand as she rubbed me dry with strong, confident strokes. My penis remained shriveled even when she knelt before me to dry my genitals. However, it stirred as soon as she rubbed it with the towel and I felt my face redden again. I was dreading her saying anything, but at the same time I was disappointed when she rose to dry my back without any acknowledgment at all. She used a second, somewhat smaller, towel to vigorously dry my hair, commenting that I was lucky that my hair was so full. 'Most boys have very thin hair, very fine strands. Yours is really nice, much thicker than most. Maybe there's more girl to you than you thought! When you get used to using a proper conditioner, you will be surprised at how soft and full it feels. And there's lots of time for it to grow. It's already long enough that we could do something with it. Having hair that looks nice is a wonderfully feminine feeling and you'll learn to love it, Jennie' Then it was back to my bedroom, wearing the housecoat again. Marie looked at me, her lips pursed. 'How old are you, Jennie?' 'Sixteen... almost seventeen' 'You look a little younger, honey. But that's probably because you are a slow developer. Don't worry, I'm sure that you will catch up with the other girls. I think that you are old enough to wear some really pretty things. Would you like that, Jennie' This was too much for me. My eyes brimmed with tears and before I knew it I was huddled on the bed, crouching in almost a fetal position, with tears streaming down my face. I sensed Marie coming to sit beside me, feeling the edge of the bed give way as she sat. Her arm was around me and her breath was on the side of my face as she tried to comfort me. 'Honey, honey... I'm sorry...' Then she just held me as my body heaved in time with my sobs. Gradually I quieted, the tears drying. I rubbed my eyes and took the Kleenex she held out to me. Using it to wipe my nose, where I had been sniffling, I looked at her through red- rimmed eyes. 'Why are you doing this to me?' 'Your grandmother explained it, didn't she?' 'Yes, but it doesn't make sense. Why are you helping her? Why does my mother want this to happen?' 'You'll have to ask her that yourself, honey. All I know is that this will all seem so much better later on. It's bound to be a shock now. You wouldn't be normal if you weren't upset, but I promise you it is all for the best' 'But I'm a boy. I'm not a girl, and it's wrong to do this to me' 'Right now you are certainly a boy, and one day you will probably grow up to be a man. But this summer will help you understand how girls feel, how women feel. That way, any woman you marry will find that she has a truly wonderful husband' 'You mean that this isn't an attempt to make me into a girl?' She sat up and laughed. 'Oh, Jennie! Where did you get that idea? You grandmother told you that you'd go back to being a boy! Your father is a man, isn't he?' I felt much better as I realized that she was telling me the truth. 'You must think I'm a baby for crying like that' 'Jennie, it's all right to cry. I don't like seeing you unhappy and I'm sorry that you're so scared, but one of the things you're going to learn is that it's okay to express your emotions. Girls do that, you know' I tried to smile, to show that I was over whatever had possessed me. I was still frightened, but stillness had descended over my heart and I was ready to do as she asked. I felt as if she truly cared for me and would not harm me. Standing, she took my hand and assisted me to my feet. I followed as she led me towards the dresser. 'We're going to start with something, which is always a huge event for a young girl. It is something that for many of us is a sign that we are maturing as feminine creatures' She pulled from the second drawer something that I did not immediately recognize. It seemed to be made of several intertwined pieces of white lace, but after she straightened it out I saw that it was a garterbelt. Four garters dangled, ending in plastic tabs. Ribbons, formed into small bows, had been attached to the belt just above each garter. Marie knelt before me once more, and I was acutely aware of her presence and of the touch of her hands on my smooth skin as she fastened the garterbelt around my waist. Rising to her feet, she reached into the drawer and drew forth a pair of sand colored nylons. 'Most of us wear pantyhose these days. We save nylons and garterbelts for special occasions; for times when we want to feel especially aware of our femininity. I still remember the first time I got to wear stockings! I felt so pretty, so sexy! I envy you this moment, Jennie' Her enthusiasm made it impossible for me to protest. She made me sit back on the bed while she showed me how to roll the first stocking up my leg, after pointing my toes as she began to pull the gossamer fabric up my foot, over my ankle and up my calf. 'You have to be careful, Jennie. It's easy to snag a toenail, and then you'll get a run in the nylon!' I stood and watched attentively as she fastened one of the tabs to the top of the stocking, feeling for the first time the delicious coolness of the fine- meshed nylon against my skin. My whole leg felt as if a cool breeze was caressing it. Marie made me fasten the second garter and then watched as I pulled on the second nylon and attached both garters. 'Well done, honey!' Her praise made me relax a little, although I was still troubled by my nakedness. She made me walk around the room, my feet pressing into the plush carpet. 'How does it feel?' I was tongue-tied. I had never experienced anything like it and despite myself, I found that the sensations were enjoyable. The feeling that my legs were encased in a light, cool breeze was accentuated by the motion of the air against my legs as I moved, and the tug of the garters on either thigh as I walked seemed somehow to be a perfect accompaniment to that sensation. 'Okay...' was what I managed to say, but the tentative smile on my face was probably the real answer she had been looking to see. Next she offered me a pair of panties. These too were in white silk, plain except for some lace trim around the thigh openings. They felt light and cool in my hand as I accepted them from her. 'We wear our panties over our garterbelt, when we get dressed up like this. Do you know why, Jennie?' 'No' I shook my head. 'Because otherwise we would have to take our garterbelt off whenever we needed to use the toilet. This way, we can simply pull our panties down before sitting on the toilet. You understand that you will always sit down now, even if only to pee?' I blushed furiously, but finally gave a brief nod. I stepped carefully into the panties, almost afraid that I might tear the delicate fabric as I pulled them up my legs. I wasn't sure what to do with my genitals, and then as I snugged the panties about my waist, I became aware of an awful problem. I was getting aroused! Sure enough my penis was stiffening and pressing out against the silk, and as it grew, so did the feeling of arousal become more intense. Marie looked down and I was terrified that she would laugh or scold me, but she simply smiled. 'I thought that would happen, honey. Don't be embarrassed! It's a normal reaction and nothing we can't deal with' I didn't understand what she was saying, my entire concern being that my body was betraying me. I was astounded when I felt Marie's hand caress my penis through the taut silk of the panties. A groan was torn from my lips as more blood rushed in to engorge my cock. My head was thrown back, so I felt rather than saw her pull my panties down and enfold my turgid member in her fingers. 'Does that feel good, Jennie?' she whispered. I could feel her hot breath on the tip of my penis as she squeezed gently, while pumping me slowly. My moans were the only answer as desire and lust warred with and defeated that small voice telling me that this was wrong. 'You like being my girl, don't you Jennie?' I said nothing, lost in the depths of my internal struggle. She stopped her massaging of my cock and her voice took on an edge. 'Tell me that you like being my girl, Jennie' 'I do... oh Marie! I do like being your girl!' As the words left my lips, I felt her pump me vigorously and I came almost instantly. Marie flinched to one side as my ejaculate spurted out. She continued to milk me until my penis began to grow flaccid, while still talking to me, telling me what a good girl I was, and how much she looked forward to training me as her girlfriend. Finally, as warmth swept up my body from my groin to my cheeks, she relinquished her hold on me. 'Stay right there, Jennie' she commanded. I obeyed, as she left the room only to return in a matter of seconds with a warm, damp facecloth with which she wiped me clean. I adjusted my panties, seeing with relief that I no longer reacted physically to the feel of the silk. She told me to push my genitals back between my legs, and when I did so I was astounded at how flat I appeared. Marie then told me to fetch another one from the bathroom, along with a small towel. She made me clean my sperm from the carpet, commenting that we should not mention this to grandmother. 'I'll get the carpet shampooed tomorrow' was all she said after I finished my task and had returned the facecloth and towel to the bathroom where I had placed them in the laundry hamper. 'We won't always use this technique to help you look properly ladylike' Marie smiled. 'Later I'll show you how to use a gaff, which will prevent you from any displays of immodesty' Her words meant nothing to me at that moment, my attention being focused on my first bra. It was clearly a match for my panties and garterbelt, the soft lace trimmed cups shaped by wires I could feel ran along the bottom, and plumped by the padding which added shape where nature had failed. Marie showed me how to put it on with the cups in the back, so that I could fasten the tiny hooks before turning it around my torso and placing my arms through the straps. It was a snug fit, and it felt odd to see, in the bottom of my peripheral vision, the shape of my new bosom protruding from my chest. Marie fussed with the shoulder straps and the cups, until she was satisfied that the bra was sitting properly. She made me look in a mirror so that I could learn how it was supposed to fit. The image was startling. I had of course often seen girls at the beach or at a swimming pool, wearing almost nothing, and I had shared with my school buddies several 'adult' magazines containing photographs, which left nothing to the imagination. What I saw in the mirror bore little resemblance to those images. Yet at the same time, my reflection shocked and startled me, since the person who stared back was already no longer clearly a boy. I may not have looked like a centerfold, or even like a real girl, but I also did not look much like a boy. I had always been thin, and I could see the outline of my ribs beneath my flesh and my stomach was flat and lightly muscled. The bra straps seemed very white against my skin, and I saw hollows beneath my collarbones, which I had never really seen before. The bra was obviously padded, and not by real breasts, but what struck me the strongest was the way I appeared from the waist down. Above that point what I saw was a slender, androgynous figure, while below I saw a girl. Slim-hipped, but otherwise very attractive. I was astonished at how shapely my legs appeared in the nylons, and the way in which the garters tugged at the top of the stockings seemed very erotic to me. My panties fit well, with no hint of my genitals visible to spoil the illusion. I looked up to see that Marie's eyes were looking at mine in the reflection. She smiled. 'You see, you like the way you look' Her voice was soft and quiet, until she seemed to shake herself, breaking the spell that had held me staring into the mirror. 'Wait until we are finished, Jennie. You won't believe your eyes!' She selected a short slip for me to wear. I was still enraptured every time I felt a new garment sliding over my body. As with all my lingerie so far, this was in white silk, with a simple lace bodice and a lace-trimmed slit along the right side, extending perhaps eight inches up from the hem, which in turn ended about mid thigh. My body shivered with delight as my slip slide down my torso. Marie helped me adjust it, showing me how to change the length of the spaghetti straps that laid over my shoulders parallel to my bra straps. Then came my first blouse, a simple but feminine blouse that looked almost like a shirt. Almost, but not really. I found that the buttons, many more and smaller than I was used to, were on the 'wrong side'. The material was lighter, a finer fabric than anything I had ever worn as a boy. The collar was soft and embroidered, while the sleeves puffed out at the shoulder and gathered with more of the tiny buttons at the wrist. And the collar was not something I would have worn as a boy. I was to learn that shades and tones, not to mention fabrics and cuts, were far more complex, and fun to talk about, than I had ever imagined. For now, all I saw was that my blouse was a soft pink color. Marie told me to leave the top three buttons undone, and looking down, I blushed to see that the top of my slip was just visible, a hint of lace betraying the femininity of my lingerie. Next came a skirt. Marie chose a short skirt in a deeper shade of pink. It was lightly pleated, and fit tightly around my waist, flaring slightly to its hem a few inches above my knees. A slender white belt with a gold buckle accented my waist. Marie stepped back and looked me over, with me feeling suddenly nervous again under her gaze. I had almost forgotten how weird this experience was as she had fussed over me, her comments and attitude never betraying any sense that what we were doing was at all out of the ordinary. I had just about been lulled by her approach, but at any pause, my stomach tightened and my pulse began to race. Marie turned and opened another closet door, revealing the large selection of footwear I had seen yesterday. She picked up a pair of white open-toed shoes with a three-inch heel. The shoes had very thin white leather straps with gold buckles, which she fastened around my heels as I sat on the bed again. She stroked my legs sensually before standing back up and telling me to stand. I staggered as I did so, off balance from the heels and the strain imposed on my calves. She cautioned me to place my weight on the balls of my feet, rather than, as I was used to doing, my heels. I did so and found that standing wasn't so difficult after all. Walking was another matter, at least for the first few steps. 'Keep your weight on the balls of your feet, but don't lean forward. Hold your head up, and square your shoulders' The commands sounded contradictory, but I tried and within a surprisingly short space I was able to walk without feeling as if I were going to fall at any second. 'Place each foot more or less in front of the other' That was more difficult, since I had actually widened my stance to compensate for my unfamiliar posture. It felt strange to be walking like this. I was thankful that the heels were broad, since even so they tended to sink into the carpet, aggravating my problems. She made me walk around the room several times and then out into the hallway, where the carpet was not quite as plush and my task was a little easier. I became aware of just how different walking as a girl was from walking as a boy, as I had done all my life so far. The shoes fit in an unusual way, and I felt almost as if I was walking on tiptoes. My leg muscles were moving differently than I was accustomed to. Normally I was completely unaware of how my calf muscles or thigh muscles worked, but now I felt them with every step. The coolness of the nylons added a tiny thrill to every motion, accentuated by the alternating tugs of my garters. I felt my nylon-clad thighs move against my slip and could hear as well as feel the swish of both my slip and my skirt as I moved. Despite holding my head up, I could sense in the bottom of my field of vision, the gentle protuberance of my bosom, and feel the unaccustomed weight on my chest and the light but constant presence of my shoulder straps. Marie made me change even the way I held my arms as I walked, telling me let them hang from the shoulders, turned outwards just a little, with my wrists bent ever so gently back. It made me feel very effeminate and just for a second I wanted to rebel. The look on her face silenced that impulse before it could even appear on my face. Marie was watching me intensely, her eyes roaming over my body as she monitored how I was obeying her complex instructions. Her eyes seemed to shine as she watched, and I felt as if I was the most important thing in her life. My penis twitched between my legs as a feeling of desire swept over me. Seeing her look at me that way made me want to please her, and I knew that being as pretty as I could be was the best way to do that. With that realization, a subtle change came over me; the way I felt. I was no longer effeminate. I was feminine. So it was with a new approach, a welcome surrender, that I sat on a stool which Marie had carried into the bathroom. It was time for me to experience the delights of makeup, although Marie warned me that she was only going to give me a few pointers. 'It's too easy for a young girl to go overboard when she starts to use makeup. You will have to learn how to choose your makeup according to the time of day and the occasion. Your grandmother believes that young ladies should use very little makeup unless and until they are ready to go out on dates!' I blushed at the thought, and my confidence faltered. She wasn't suggesting that I go out with a boy, was she? She giggled and squeezed my shoulder. 'Jennie, you should have seen the look on your face! Don't worry honey. I want you to be my girl this summer, not some sweaty boy's' I laughed uncertainly, feeling as if my throat were constricted. I was glad when she moved on quickly to show me some of the cosmetics she had laid out on the countertop. She showed me several types of foundation cream, including a very heavy one, which was useful for covering beards. She told me that she was very happy that I had almost no beard at all, just a light fuzz, which had come off when she had applied the cream before my shower. She made me apply a light covering of one of the creams, rubbing it in so that it was almost absorbed by the skin. I saw how it formed an even surface, a canvas, as she described it, upon which