Stephanie's Scheme free porn video

Warning. This is an adult story with some strong sexual content. It is not intended for and should not be read by minors. It is also not intended for anyone who believes that men are men, women are women and that's the way things should always be. It is concerned with themes of male transvestism, panty fetishism, male submission, female domination, and the like. It does not contain any kind of violence nor does it depict children under the age of consent Note, however that unlike my other stories it does depict young people just above the age of consent, which many find to be at the least distasteful, and in some cases, downright immoral. If this would offend you, stop reading. This is fiction after all. If this sounds borderline to you then note that there is no actual penetrative sex between anyone less than eighteen years of age depicted. Also, there is no penetrative inter- family sex. A young woman teases her younger brother in a highly sexually charged manner, and a young boy fantasies about his father's young bride, that's about it. Stephanie's Scheme By Alamo Preacher Part One: Sweet like Chocolate. If there was one film I really hated when I was sixteen, it was Bill and Ted's excellent adventure. It was one of those films that every single kid in town sees over the course of a weekend. You're nobody in school on Monday if you don't know the jokes from the movie. Bill and Ted's was that movie in the Fall of '92 . I hated that fucking film. Why I hated it is kind of a long story, and it has to do with more people than just me, and my part in the story isn't one I'm very proud of, but it has a lot to do with the way I am today, and it has an important message I think that everyone who cares about their family or who has ever loved someone too much should hear, so I'll tell it anyway, and I'll tell it exactly how it happened. In the Summer of 1992 my Dad finally decided to remarry. It had been four years since he and my Mom split up and he'd been dating this girl for like six weeks when he announced that they were getting married in June. I had never even seen her at the time he made this announcement. He'd been sneaking off to see her, kind of guiltily. I knew he had a new girlfriend from the phone calls and dates and all, but I thought there was something suspicious about this one, since he'd never brought her round, even for five minutes before the two of them went out to dinner or whatever. Don't get me wrong now, I didn't resent him having a girlfriend or even remarrying. Heck no. My Dad had had a tough time. My Mom had run off with one of his work colleagues after having a very public affair, and they'd had a very messy divorce. Since then, he'd done his best for me and my sister, and I wasn't some punk kid jealous of my Dad's attention. So, when he told me that 'Miss Taylor' had agreed to marry him I tried my best to look happy for him, but I had a feeling there was more to this. There was. 'Miss Taylor' was Cherie Taylor. She was only twenty five, and she worked as a receptionist in my school. Cherie was really good looking. She was just the kind of woman that a man at my Dad's stage of life would go for. Problem was, she was also just the kind of woman that a kid of sixteen would go for too. In his dreams. Soon after the announcement, Dad brought Cherie over to meet me and Stephanie, my older sister. Stephanie had not taken the news of our Dad's impending remarriage as well as I had. I'd heard her yelling at him in the kitchen when he told her. I couldn't hear what she said exactly, but it sounded pretty angry. Stephanie was two years older than me and starting to treat me with the special kind of contempt that older sisters reserve for their brothers during the years between first catching them sneaking looks at their tits, and when they finally move out of home. Anyway, I didn't then care what Stephanie thought about Cherie. I felt I wasn't so much gaining a stepmother as gaining a live-in wank fantasy. On the evening of this first visit I found that I was nervous about meeting Cherie. I didn't know it at the time, but I was hoping she'd like me. I wanted to impress her. At school she wouldn't know me from two hundred other kids but she was going to move in with us straight after the wedding, and that was only a couple of weeks off, so this was a real fast get-to-know you session. I'd been fantasizing about Cherie since Dad had told us about her, but before this evening I'd only ever seen her from a distance in school. This would be up- close. Stephanie and I were sitting in the lounge, waiting. I kept zapping channels on the TV. "What the fuck are you so keyed up about, moron?" Asked Steph. "She isn't coming over to see you." She always talked to me this way. She'd been pissed off in general since Mom had left, but she reserved the worst of her bile for me. It was a brother-sister thing. "Yes she is." I said, "She's coming over to see both of us." I knew what Stephanie meant, but all the same, the point of the visit was so that we could start to get to know each other. Stephanie rolled her eyes. "You are so fucking dumb. Do you really think she gives a shit about 'Getting to meet the kids?'" She asked, her voice laden with sarcasm. Stephanie was starting to be really good looking. She didn't try to look glamorous like a lot of girls her age, but she could have if she'd wanted to. She went more for a 'Grrrl' look. She kept her hair fairly short. She wore combat pants and short cotton tops. She'd had a lot of piercings and tattoos done since Mom left. Dad never said a word about it, though our Mom would have freaked and stopped her. I suspected Dad was a bit scared of her. He probably told himself that he was just giving her space, since she'd taken his and Mom's break up kind of badly, but in truth, he knew she'd tell him where to get off if he tried to stop her doing stuff like that. Actually, I probably didn't realise all that at the time, and I only put it together afterwards, or maybe it was somewhere in my subconscious even then. It was a strange time for me. That evening she was wearing army boots and really short, cut-off pink denim shorts, and a black cotton belly-top. She seemed to have taken a lot of care with her makeup. Apart from her clothes, she looked a lot older than seventeen. I wondered if Cherie coming over had anything to do with the way she'd done her makeup. She was lying almost flat on her back on the settee, her bare legs crossed over each other, stretched out horizontally in front of her, supported by a stool. I was sitting beside her cross-legged. Dad had been gone about twenty minutes. He and Cherie would probably be here in ten. "What do you mean?" I asked, frowning. "If she isn't coming over to 'Meet the kids' then what is this visit for?" "To check this place out, dummy. To see what he's got." Said Steph, with exaggerated slowness, as if explaining to a child. "Okay, She probably has a fair idea of how much he makes already, but she wants to check this place out for herself, make sure she's getting what she was promised." I looked around the lounge stupidly. At fifteen, how well-off your family is, is kind-of like background information. If things are stable, then money isn't really an issue. I suppose we were well off, maybe very well off. We had large pool. My Dad had a Land Rover and a sports car. A massive stereo unit hulked silently in the corner of the lounge. Our house was probably one of the largest in town. Maybe in the top ten houses. Maybe the largest. We were pretty rich. It had never really occurred to me before. I suppose the dawning realisation must have shown itself on my face. "You have got to be the stupidest thing on the planet." Said Steph. "I bet when he told you that he was marrying Cherie Taylor, all you thought was - "Wow she's so hot. I wonder if I'll get to see her naked round the house?" You fucking dummy." Stephanie snorted and snatched the remote from me. She flicked over to MTV and turned up some rock video really loud. She was pissed off. I tried not to blush at her accurate guess at my reaction to the news that Cherie would be living with us. I didn't know what to say. I was absorbing this information, and letting my gaze wander over Steph's outstretched legs when she spoke again, fiercely, through clenched teeth. "Quit fucking staring at my fucking legs you sick little pervert" She was still looking straight at the TV, and she hadn't looked round. How could she tell where I'd been looking? I quickly looked away. "I wasn't looking at you, you stuck up bitch." I said. "Who'd want to look at your legs anyway." "What the fuck did you say?" Said Steph, her voice rising in astonished anger at my insult. I didn't answer, I couldn't meet her gaze when she was this angry. I didn't think what I'd said was that bad, but she clearly was really pissed off, almost shocked at my impertinence in talking back to her. There was a long pause. I could feel the crackling tension in the air. I didn't want to look round to see her face, but she wasn't going to say anything more either. The seconds dragged by. I couldn't stand it. I turned, and as I did so, I tried to defuse the tension by saying "Ahhh, come on Steph, your legs aren't that ba..." But the words died in my throat. Stephanie was staring at me with a look of pure hate. "You think that bitch has good legs do you? You'll be thinking about her legs when you pull yourself off tonight will you? You'd like to have Cherie's legs wrapped around your ears would you? You make me puke, you really do." And she got up and stalked out of the lounge, leaving me confused and slightly horny. Of course she was right. When Cherie came over I couldn't help but steal glances at her legs. To make matters worse she was wearing a fairly short tan dress, just above the knee, and, my favourite, chocolate brown pantyhose. When she sat on the settee in the lounge and crossed her legs, I knew Steph would be watching me watching her, but I just couldn't help looking all the same. It would have been impossible not to, since Cherie had chosen to sit right in front of me. She was lovely, I forgot all Steph's bitchiness the moment she arrived. She was funny and sincere and really gorgeous. My Dad was delighted that we got on so well. Even Steph made an effort. Actually she was more than just civil, she was even friendly. Either she had decided to make the best of this, or she had some sort of plan. Certainly she played the perfect prospective stepdaughter to a tee. I tried to match her but ended up more of a prospective eager puppy. When Cherie smiled at me, I melted. She didn't have to even try, I was like melting chocolate in her hands. By the time she left I had a boner the size and consistency of a hammer handle in my jeans. I had to go whack off. Dad was dropping Cherie back to her place where they were going to discuss wedding arrangements for hours so this was the perfect opportunity. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I went down on my knees and pulled my jeans and boxers right down. Normally I'd have taken a while to get started but this time there was no need. I closed my eyes and pictured Cherie just as she had been sitting on the lounge. Then she began to pull her skirt up slowly, smiling at me all the time, revealing more and more of her thighs. Jesus she was hot. Then she slowly spread her legs, letting me see her cream-coloured panties beneath, just visible through the thicker, darker fabric of the panty of the chocolate coloured pantyhose. My imagination ran riot. Smiling all the while, Cherie produced a Hershey's Extra Dark chocolate bar from her handbag and slowly unwrapped it. I closed in on her face. She smiled, and, opening her mouth, sensuously drew her wet, pink tongue over the warm chocolate bar. It left chocolate stains on her dark red lipsticked lips, and on her chin and cheeks. Keeping her eyes fixed on mine she slid the bar all the way into her mouth, sucked on it very gently once, and then withdrew it slowly, letting the melting chocolate smear over her lips and her fingers. She brushed aside her open blouse and pulled open her matching cream satin bra to reveal her full breasts and soft brown, erect nipples. She brought the oozing, melting chocolate bar down to her breast and smeared and swirled it over her breasts and nipple, as if putting the last delicious topping onto a rich, chocolaty desert. As she cupped one breast with her chocolate-covered hand she said "What the fuck are doing in there you little sicko? Are you wanking over Cherie already?" My hand froze on my cock. I held my breath. Steph was right outside the door. But I was okay, the door was locked. "I'm in the toilet Steph." I said, wincing at how stupid this sounded, even as I said it. Why couldn't she just fuck off and leave me in peace? I'd been really getting into that. "I know you're in there, you spastic." Said Steph and I know what you're doing. "You're embarrassing Ken, you really are. You were so fucking obvious looking at her legs, and trying to look up her skirt. But that wasn't the worst, do you even know how pathetic you looked, giggling at everything she said, and making stupid faces. You were more like a kindergarten girl trying to impress teacher than anything. Even Dad was embarrassed and he's almost as bad as you." "Fuck off Steph." Was all I could think of to say. "No, You fuck off, Ken." Said Steph through the door. "If you can't even wait five minutes before running in there to wank off over her then what the hell are you going to be like when she's living here. You're embarrassing enough as it is. Do you think people won't know what you're doing? Do you think the lovely Cherie won't guess immediately? You're going to make this family seem even more pathetic than it is and I won't allow that. Now you finish up in there and come out. We've got to talk." There was silence. I was so stunned by what she'd said that it took me a minute to realise that she'd stopped. Was she gone? I didn't know. All I knew was that I still had a boner and a date with Cherie's chocolate. She was back to sucking the melting bar, sliding it in and out of her mouth. Her other hand smeared chocolate and saliva over her left beast and nipple. The pantyhose had turned into a pair of similarly coloured stockings and her panties were down around one ankle. She slid forward down the settee, spreading her legs as she did so, so that her thighs were on either side of my face. The stocking tops were lacy and tight, with a thin silver thread worked into the pattern. The contrast with the wonderful soft flesh of her generous inner thigh was wonderful. With a mischievous smile she moved the now almost totally melted bar down to her exposed, neatly trimmed pussy and with a slight wince, pushed it all the way into herself. The melted chocolate piled up on her warm pussy lips and began to ooze very slowly downwards. "Would you like some chocolate Ken?" She asked with a giggle. I moved forward. "Are you coming out or not?" Shouted Steph from the hallway. Jesus! She was still there. "No." I said. "Oh for fuck's sake, hurry up and come. I'm going out and I need to talk to you." Said Steph, exasperatedly. "Just go away Steph." I said desperately. "I am not going away. If you think you're going to take hours over your wank then I have news for you. Pull yourself off now and come out here or I'll come in and get you." She couldn't do that. The door was locked. I wondered if I could still continue with her shouting at me from outside. Cherie's chocolate pussy lips were still there, her lovely stockinged thighs, waiting to close over my ears as I moved forward.... Click. Click. The door was unlocked. What the fuck? Steph walked into the bathroom and stood in front of me. I gaped at her, cock still in hand. "Don't look so fucking stupid Ken. I have a key to every room in the house. Now get on with it or I'll kick you in the balls where you are. No! don't fucking stop, I want to tell you something and I know you won't be able to listen to anything while your little pecker is in charge." She went down in front of me, on her hunkers, so she was level with my face. "Come on, Ken. I'm giving you sixty seconds and then these boots are going straight into those blue balls. "Steph." I began "I, I ..." "Can't?" Finished Steph for me. "Do I put you off? Can't you conjure Cherie up while I'm here in front of you? What's she doing? Is she spreading herself for you? Are you actually imagining you're fucking her. Shit, that's a powerful imagination." "No. No I'm not... " I started. She cut me off again. "No? You're right, that's just too unlikely. Spanking you maybe? Dressing you up in her panties? Hmmm? Is that what has your little pecker so hard?" "No!" I shouted, even more embarrassed at these notions. But even as I said it, these wonderfully erotic images lodged themselves in my mind. "No, it's nothing like that." I said, quietly. My hard-on was failing in spite of everything. "Oh No." Said Steph, looking down at my drooping cock. "Come on Ken. You can do it. Just grab hold of yourself. I'm already in here, and I've seen you having your filthy little wank, so pulling yourself off in front of me isn't any worse, and believe me the kicking you'll get if you don't will be very, very real." Suddenly, she took hold of my hand and moved it onto my turgid cock. "I'll start your minute from now, to be fair. Start pumping." I looked into her eyes. She was serious. I began to move my hand up and down. I closed my eyes. Cherie was a little alarmed and a bit out of focus. I pulled back to get an overall look, and with a couple of stokes and deep breath she was smiling again. "Tell me what you see, little brother." Said Steph from somewhere else. At that moment I don't know what came over me. I think it was something to do with the tone of voice that Steph used, but I started to talk. "I see Cherie with her legs spread on the settee. She's wearing dark chocolate-coloured hold-ups and black heels. She's been eating a really melty chocolate bar and her mouth and breasts are covered in chocolate. She's just pushed the rest of the bar into herself..." Oddly, I was kind of proud of my vision. "Mmmmmm. Chocolate." Came the voice. Steph seemed to like the idea too. "It's melting inside her. Why don't you move in and lick some out of her pussy Ken? That's what she wants isn't it? That's it. She's spread her lips for you. Oooooh. That's it. She likes that, your tongue licking the tangy chocolate from her pussy lips. Soft and silky. There's more inside her. Go on. Deeper. Can you feel her soft thighs closing over your cheeks? Can you feel the nylon of her stockings against your ears? Stroke your tongue against her lips. Lick it all up Get your tongue inside. Her hands are clasping on the back of your head and she's pulling you closer. Harder. Oooooooh. That's so good. She loves the feel of your tongue on her. Inside her. Open your mouth wide Ken." I was stroking and pulling myself, and it was as if I was lost. Steph's words went straight from my ears to the most primitive part of my brain. It was as if she could paint inside my skull. I opened my mouth. her words and my imagination made the vision almost more than real inside my head. "That's it, work your tongue inside. Oh Mommy likes that. Get your tongue in. Hard licks, soft licks. Always against the top. She's pulling you closer. That's even better than Daddy's cock inside. Oooh, baby likes his chocolate. There's a little more deep inside. Oh it's all gooey. Oh, it's all coming out now. Liquidy, melted. Chocolate flavoured pussy. Pussy flavoured chocolate. Lick, lick, lick. Slurp it up. Is baby going to come for Mommy? Is baby going to spunk all over Mommy's feet? Is baby getting his chocolate? Is the chocolate all gone now? Have you drunk it all down. But you still have to lick Cherie's lovely little bud, don't you? Mmmmm. Is it slippery against your tongue? Get it between your lips. That's it, that's it, rub your tongue over it. Mommy's little button. . Lap it up. Lap it up. Ooooh Mommy likes that. Ooooh Baby likes it too. Oh! That's it baby, come for Mommy now Ken! Come! Come! Aaaaaahhh!". And I covered the end of my cock with the waiting tissues and jerked and spasmed, my eyes tight shut, wrenching myself into the tissue as I came with the delicious acid strokes and my sisters voice echoing in my head. When I was done I didn't want to open my eyes. Steph said nothing. I knew I would eventually have to face her. She was standing above me, leaning down, her hands on her knees, a smile of triumph on her face. "Hey, little brother. You looked like really got into that. Now clean yourself up and come with me. Come on. I told you I'm in a hurry." Part Two: New boots and panties. She turned and walked out of the bathroom and into her own room. I looked down at the mess I'd made. The tissues had not been sufficient to the task. I cleaned up, feeling spent and empty. It was easy not to think about what had happened, at least for a minute or two after I'd come, but slowly I began to realise what I'd done, what Steph had seen, what I had admitted to her. "Are you deaf, you moron? What is the hold up?" Shouted Steph from her room. I dumped the tissues and hurried into her room. She was pulling on a pair of jeans when I walked into her room. I caught a brief flash of her white cotton panties as she zipped herself up. She caught my eye and gave me a pained look. She didn't seem mad at me, just impatient. She'd changed her top too. Now she was wearing a skintight black, sleeveless cotton tee. Her denim jacket lay on her bed. She'd changed the heavy boots for a lighter pair, but she was still very butch, in contrast with her softly made-up face, and feminine hairstyle. I realised that over he last few weeks Stephanie had created a 'look' for herself. The Grrrl clothes and boots offset by her almost girlish makeup and hair. She pinned a sparkly, pink plastic barrette into her hair as I watched her. "How do I look?" She asked. She had such confidence in herself. "You look lovely Steph." I said. That sounded a bit pathetic, but it was true. My sister was gorgeous really. She accepted the compliment as if it were no more than her due. "Right." She said. "I'm going downtown and I'll be going to the charity shop. I've sorted a bunch of clothes of mine and yours out and I'm going to donate them. " She indicated some piles of neatly folded clothes. There was a pile of stuff of mine that I'd either outgrown or never worn, and a few more of Steph's things, dresses, skirts, shoes etc. Steph turned and opened her panty drawer. "Now, I'm throwing a lot of this stuff out but I thought you might want to keep some. I don't want to waste anything." She picked up two large piles of lingerie from the drawer and brought it over to the bed. She put them down beside the other piles and looked to me. "You sort through that lot and see if there's anything you want to keep and I'll sort through the rest." She said, and turned back to her drawer. Despite what had just happened in the bathroom, this was a shock. My palms were sweaty and I felt a slight tremble run through me. "W, W, What would I want with your panties Steph?" I asked, trying to sound surprised and nonplussed, but ending up sounding guilty as hell, and feeble with it. She looked at me over her shoulder. The same pained expression. "Don't fuck about Ken." She said. "You regularly sneak in here to borrow some of my skimpy panties to wear and jack off in. Now, I'm throwing out pretty much all of that stuff except for the plain white cotton ones I like. Some of this stuff doesn't even fit me anymore anyhow. So do you want to keep some or not?" I just gaped at her. Had she known this all along? I'd been doing it for years. I'd thought that she had never noticed the panties, hose or slips moved around. It was true, a lot of it was too small for her now, and she never wore any fancy lingerie anymore it seemed. "Look Ken, it's going to the charity shop if you don't say you want it, and I warn you, after today there'll be no more sneaking into my drawers. I'm getting locks fitted on all my drawers and wardrobes in here today, so no more Mr. Sneaky Panties for you." She had sorted through another drawer as she spoke and now she put a pile of soft, satiny slips and cami-tops beside the panties, bras and other things. I bit my lip. It was all so lovely, I even had some favourites among the piles of shiny garments. Steph. was watching me, gazing longingly at her underwear. She seemed puzzled. "You know, I've never seen the attraction." She picked up a pair of red lacy panties and matching bra. I knew these, they'd appeared mysteriously in her drawer a fortnight ago. "Greg bought these for me. He's always buying underwear for me, even though I almost never wear these things he buys. It's stupid." She turned to me. "What is it that turns you on about wearing it?" She asked, frankly. I gulped. "I, I don't know Steph." I said, and as I do so, implicitly admitted everything that she had said. Stephanie frowned. "Well, it had better not be anything to do with me. I mean, if I give you these and they're yours, you'll still wear them right? I mean, you don't want to wear this stuff just because it belongs to me? You like the panties for themselves?" I knew what she meant, but I couldn't think. I just nodded. "Because, like I said, this room is off-limits to you from now on. If you want panties you'll have to take them now. Keep them in your room. I'm making a few more changes around here too. I'm moving my laundry basket into the airing cupboard and yours too. That way, no-one will be able to tell who's underwear is whose. You'll need to throw some pairs of boxers or jockeys in there yourself, if you don't want anyone to know you're wearing my panties. Do you understand?" I did. Again, I realised Steph. was miles ahead of me. In a few weeks Cherie would move in here. Our lives would be disrupted, and she was making preparations. "Do you understand Ken?" She said again. "Yes, yes Stephanie." I said. "Now do you want to keep my panties or not? Just some? All of them?" She raised her eyebrow. I looked at the floor. She smirked in triumph. "All of them. Right. Now gather them up and put them in your own room. You've wasted enough of my time already. I have more things to tell you about the changes I'm making around here, but they'll have to wait until after I get back. Come on now, pick up your panties and shoo. I'll be back before Ten." She stood there, waiting for me to pick up the piles. I realised it was now or never. I bent down and scooped up all the slippery, lacy and satiny underthings in my arms and made for the door. In my haste I dropped a pair of particularly silky black panties. "Hold on, there." Said Steph and she bent and picked up the panties. I had to turn and wait. She took her time. She smiled and held up the briefs in front of me. "What do you say Ken?" She teased. I tried to look down, to break her gaze, but of course, I was just looking into the mounds of lingerie in my arms. "Please may I have the panties Steph?" I asked. "Yes Ken, you may keep my panties." She replied and daintily placed the pair I'd dropped onto the piles I was clutching to me. I tried to make for the door. "You ungrateful little pup." Said Steph, angrily. "Would simple a Thank-you choke you to say?" She sounded genuinely hurt. "I'm sorry Steph." I said, hurriedly. "Thank you very much. Thank you, thank you." "All right don't overdo it. Listen Ken, you're going to have to shape up. You understand?" I nodded, and she dismissed me with a wave of her hand. I hurried to my room where I was relieved to dump all my lovely new underwear on the bed and collapse onto the pile of sweet smelling panties. I lay there for a while, waiting for my heart to stop pounding. After a minute I heard Steph's boots on the stairs and moments later, the front door slam. I jumped up and looked out the window to catch a glimpse of her as she got into her car and tore out of the gravel drive. I was alone. Times past, in this situation, I would have wondered about going into her room to sneak a pair of her panties or her hose, or even a silky top or short skirt to try on. Now, there was no need. She'd given me everything I'd need to get myself up as a proper sissy. Of course, I shouldn't have been delighted with this turn of events. I should have perhaps suspected some ulterior plan on Steph's part but I was entranced by the underwear and the delicious sensation of rolling around on the huge mound of soft, feminine fabric. I wondered what sort of underwear Cherie had. I wondered if she would be careful or sloppy in how she'd pack it away in drawers and on shelves. I wondered what she'd look like half-dressed. I wondered what her pussy looked like. I was hard again. By the time Dad, and later, Steph returned, all the lingerie was carefully stored away and hidden in my room, and I was back downstairs, watching TV. Dad stayed and chatted with us both for a little while. He thanked us both for being so welcoming to Cherie and said how much he was looking forward to the wedding, and her moving in and us "being a family again." Then he pretty much went straight to bed, with a happy smile on his face. After he'd gone, Steph slumped on the couch. "Idiot." She said. I didn't say anything. Steph looked over at me. She'd lost her earlier kindness and returned to her usual bitchy self. "I can see the bags under your eyes." She said. "How many times did you pull yourself off while I was gone? Did you get your chocolate all over again and again?" She smiled cruelly. I was determined not to rise to her challenge but I flushed all the same. She knew she was getting to me, of course. She was just bored enough to make me suffer for a while. I couldn't understand why one minute she could be so nice, and the next so horrible. She pouted like a child. "Oooh! Poor baby. Is the nasty sister cruel to diddums? Is he embawassed that she knows his icky little secwet?" She laughed at me. I felt my cheeks burn in shame. Suddenly she seemed tender again. She reached over and put her soft, cool hand on my face. I flinched away but she shushed me and held her hand against my burning cheek. "Fffft. So hot. So much shame." She said, drawing in breath through her teeth, and then snatching her hand away, as though I was literally burning. She mused for a moment, as if pondering something. "I'll make you a deal." She said, at last. "You know, I could probably get you to do anything I wanted." She paused again. I gulped. "What do you mean Steph?" She grinned. "Come on Ken, don't pretend to be stupider than you are. How would you like people to know about your secret panty stash? How would you like your lovely Cherie to know?" She giggled evilly - a high-pitched, liquid, throaty sound. She threw back her head, and spun round on the settee to face me side on. "Your face is such a picture of fear, Ken. Really, it's priceless. You looked like you were going to wet yourself when I said that." She laughed again. I hung my head. There was nothing to say. She had me cold, and we both knew it. My only hope lay in making myself seem so pathetic that she wouldn't have any reason to humiliate me further. "Please Steph." I begged, letting a whining note enter my voice. "Please..." But she cut me off. "Stop whimpering Ken, for fuck's sake." She hissed. "I told you before, you need to shape up. Show some fucking backbone you little wimp, even if you don't have any. I'm not going to tell anyone our embarrassing little secret. I don't want people to realise what a wimp I have for a brother any more than you do. In fact, if you manage to do what I say, I will get you what you want more than anything else in the world" She wasn't shouting but her body shook with fury as she said this. Her abrupt change shocked me into silence. I didn't know what to do. Steph calmed herself. A visible act of will. "Look Ken." She began." I need you to do something for me, and I'm not going to explain why, at least not now. I want you to just obey me and carry out my instructions to the best of your ability. Do you understand?" I nodded dumbly. This seemed to irritate her even more. "Speak up dummy. The first thing I need you to do is to get smart, and fast. Do you understand?" "I think so Steph, but..." "But what?" "I don't know what you want me to do and I don't see how I can get cleverer than I am. I am smart. You always say I'm stupid, and maybe I'm not as smart as you but I am smarter than lots of people, and I get good grades, better grades than you...." Steph held up her hand in my face like a cop halting a flow of traffic. "Okay Ken. You're smart. I'll explain what you need to do." She looked into my eyes, as if searching for something. In the moment before she began speaking I realized that I loved my sister with all my heart. I probably always had. She was often cruel to me, but I loved her all the same. I wondered if it had anything to do with my mother being absent for most of my teens, or if it was just because Steph was special. She was rolling her eyes. I tried to look more alert. I straightened up. Steph gave me a look. .From upstairs we heard the sound of our Dad closing the door of his room. He had gone to bed. "Okay. There is a man called Simon Field. He is a lawyer, and has offices in the Davies Street building. I want you to spy on him, in disguise. I want you to get a job in his office and snoop around. I want you to report to me anything that might be of interest to me. No, I don't know exactly what, you'll have to use your own initiative and intuition, such as it is. You'll know what when you see it." She paused. I had no idea what she was talking about. I had so many questions that I didn't know where to begin. I opened my mouth. She held up her hand again. "I will arrange for you to get a job there as an office assistant. All you have to do is turn up at the William's agency office next Wednesday morning. Look presentable. They'll take it from there. In the meantime, I want you to do three things, number one, get your hair cut. Go to my hairdressers - Image - tomorrow morning. Tell them I sent you. I will pay later. Then, go to the drugstore next door. Tell them you want a product called 'Aletell.' It is an anti-acne treatment. Then, meet me at Duignan's department store at twelve-thirty, just inside the main doors. Have you got all that?" I nodded. I knew there was no point in arguing and that I would do anything that she told me to. Even as she had spoken I was wondering at the change in our relationship. She hadn't exactly taken me into her confidence, but Stephanie seemed to want to treat me differently than she had before. It was as if the imminent arrival of Cherie made me into a kind of ally in a way. Steph smiled at me. It was such a contrast to the flash of anger that my heart melted. I really did love her. All I had to do, was to do everything and anything that she said. "Don't you want to ask what this is all for?" She asked. "Ehhhh...." I began. "Well, I suppose you'll tell me in time." Steph gave me a bigger smile. "Yes. I will. Now off you go." Said my sister and she gave me a small kiss on the cheek. I got up off the sofa and headed for the doorway. Before I left I turned and asked. "What is it that I most want in the whole world?" Steph laughed. "Don't you know? Go to bed. You'll know it when you see it." Part Three: Hair In the morning I got up and dressed myself, wondering what it was that Steph wanted me to do. I was nervous about going to her hairdressers, it wasn't the sort of place guys usually went. As I dressed in jeans and check shirt, it occurred to me that I had had very few new clothes since Mom left. She would normally have bought clothes for me, and it was just one of her roles that Dad had kind-of failed to take up. Steph bought her own clothes of course, and I was dimly aware that Dad gave her an extra allowance for clothes, which they sometimes argued about. Like all fathers he couldn't believe how much she spent on her clothes and shoes. Was Steph. going to buy new clothes for me in Duignan's? Clothes for this new job? I mulled over this thought at breakfast - it wasn't an unpleasant idea. Dad was there, finishing his breakfast. He said that Steph had already gone out very early. "She told me that you're getting a job." He said. "Yeah." I replied. "Steph has arranged it through the Williams agency." "Williams - the office temp place?" Mused Dad. "Whadja' gonna be Ken, an office girl, a receptionist?" He teased. I must have looked genuinely shocked, as he suddenly laughed. "Don't worry Ken, I'm sure they won't make you wear a skirt." He laughed again, and started to clean up the breakfast things. He was playing golf later and he went to get ready, leaving me in silence at the kitchen table, my toast halfway to my mouth. She wouldn't do this to me would she? But it all added up. Woman's hair stylist. New clothes. 'Look presentable' she'd said.' In disguise', she'd said. Oh my God! I was getting an erection as I thought about it! No. I shook my head. This was nuts. It was a kind of perverse wishful thinking. I got ready to go. As I stepped out the door it occurred to me to just not go. What if Steph did intend to dress me as a girl? I could just refuse. I could simply not turn up. Or could I? I put one foot in front of the other down our driveway. I was on my way. In half an hour I was at Image. I looked through the huge plate glass window. It was a large, open salon. Black and white tiled floor, mirrors everywhere, gleaming chrome and black marble, very modern. Inside a couple of women were in the middle of what looked like extensive hair and beauty treatments, wrapped in smocks, their hair hanging limply, coated in chemicals, while waiting for manicures or whatever. It was one of those places where women ruled. A feminine domain. Three young women, immaculately made-up, fabulous, gleaming hair in tight knots on top of their heads, stalked their scented realm, ministering to their dowdy middle-aged customers. Could I enter this place? Talk to these creatures? What the hell was I going to say? When I gingerly opened the door it loudly rang an appalling jangly bell, hidden above the doorframe. I cringed at the sound and all eyes in the salon turned to me. The bell jangled again, loudly, as I closed the door behind me. The customers looked back to their magazines, and the hairdressers to their tasks. I walked over to the podium-type desk in the corner - a kind of reception area I guessed. There was no-one there, the three women were busy in the main part of the salon. I waited, and waited. I didn't dare to approach anyone. Eventually, the nearest woman, looked over at me. I guessed she was about twenty-five, she was very beautiful. She wore what seemed to be the standard outfit - a white blouse, and short black skirt, sheer black hose, black heels. She frowned in annoyance at my grubby teenage male presence. "Can I help you?" She asked loudly, her irritation clearly audible in her voice. "Do you have an appointment?" She asked again, haughtily, before I could answer. I was sweating profusely from embarrassment. I considered making a bolt for it at this point, but I managed to blurt out "Ehhhh. I'm not sure. My, eh, my sister sent me, Stephanie Carter, she might have eh, made an appointment, I'm not sure, eh, I think." The woman seemed to relent a little. She called to one of the others. "Carol, will you check the book for this, eh, gentleman." Carol clicked her over to the desk from the back of the salon. She was, younger, maybe twenty, and also achingly gorgeous. Blond, tall, with huge baby blue eyes and a generous bosom. She gave me a reassuring smile as she approached and I fell in love with her immediately from gratitude. She flicked through the appointment book. It seemed to take forever, and I couldn't see what she was looking at because of the tall podium. I was convinced she was going to say that there was no record of anything to do with me there and I was already readying my excuses and preparing to leave when she said. "Okay Ken, lets get started." And flipping the book shut, proceeded to the rear or the salon. After a few steps she turned back to me, and I hurried after her. Carol indicated a chair, thankfully, right at the back of the salon and I sat, facing myself in a gleaming mirror. She came round behind me and twirled a plastic cape over me. She gave me a huge smile in the mirror. I tried to smile back confidently, but I could see in the mirror that the effect was just goofy. "Right. Let's get your wig fitted first." Said Carol, and she disappeared for a minute. Wig? What had Stephanie asked them to do? I was sort of relieved though. If Stephanie intended to disguise me as a girl, then I could at least remove the wig. I had thought I was about to get an unmistakably feminine haircut. Carol returned with several wigs. They were made of real hair, and all somewhat like my own hair colour. She selected the one most like my own hair colour and then put it on me. It fit rather snugly, covering my own hair with a rather unshapen mop. Carol seemed pleased. "Good, its a perfect fit, we won't need to adjust it. Now, lets wash it. It's easier to do this while it's on your head actually, so bend into the sink please Ken." She was all brisk efficiency now, and I bent into the sink and she washed the wig as if it were my own hair. It was odd, but I kind of liked being ministered to by this gorgeous girl. The feel of her fingers massaging my scalp, even through the fabric of the hairpiece was wonderful. Soon I was back in the chair, and after a brisk towelling, Carol was cutting the wig. She shaped and styled it so it looked identical to my own hair. As she did so, I allowed myself to fantasise about the two of us together, getting to know each other better. The smell of her, her scent and her closeness was intoxicating and I imagined what she must look like underneath her crisp white blouse and figure-hugging skirt. If I'd been more alert I might have realised earlier the implication of what she was doing. Only when she was finished did it come home to me what was happening. "There, perfect." Said Carol and carefully pulled off the hairpiece and placed it on a stand. "I'll get a box for you to take it home in later. Now, on with the real job." She said. I groaned inwardly. Carol must have noticed my expression. She gave me a reassuring smile. "Oh don't look so miserable. Lie back and try to enjoy it. It'll be lovely." Then it was back into the basin. I did relax as she kneaded in the shampoo and then conditioner and then rinsed off my hair. Soon I was drifting off again, lost in her perfume and basking in the glow that seemed to come from her beauty. It took longer than I thought, but the time passed quickly it seemed. First Carol put some sort of bleach into my hair and let it sit for a while. Then she rinsed that out and added a dye. "This will take a while, so in the meantime, I'm going to give you a facial." She said. I shrugged. I didn't really know what was involved. "It's just a cream, it will exfoliate and depilate. I'll need to leave it on for half an hour or so." I shrugged again. I didn't know what 'depilate' meant. I should have guessed. Carol smeared a thick cream onto my face, including my eyelids and then draped a damp cloth over my whole head. "Relax." She said. "I'll wake you up when it's done. Try not to move." And she was gone. I lay back in the chair. I was sleepy. I wondered what Stephanie had said to this woman. I wondered what she intended - did she think I would be able to pass as a girl. It was frightening but also kind of exciting. I could admit to myself that the idea of being a girl was arousing in a weird sort of way. I slept, imagining myself as a girl, in fact as a hairdresser, wearing Carol's outfit. Having Carol's lovely legs.... "Now, lets see how you look." Carol woke me with a soft hand on my shoulder. She lifted off the cloth, and I felt her wipe away some of the cream from above my eyes. "Hmmm. This may need a second application." She said. I felt her wipe it from my eyebrows, and then apply some more of the cream. "Let's see how that does while I rinse out the dye. Try not to let the cream go in the water Ken." She guided me to the sink again and she gingerly rinsed off my hair. Once I was sitting back again she carefully combed and parted my hair and then I felt her cut again, carefully, slowly, almost a hair at a time it seemed, not like the rapid clips that my own barber would use. After a while she seemed more happy. "I'd better stop there. Your sister was insistent that you should learn to style this yourself." She said. "Now, lets see how that cream worked." She wiped most of the cream off and then applied some different cream and then carefully removed it all, being very gentle around my eyes. "You can open your eyes now, if you're not too frightened." She said at last, with a laugh. I blinked and let my eyes adjust to the light again. At first, the only thing I noticed was my new blond hair. It was cut in a short, but still slightly feminine style, but just lying flat on my head for the moment. It took a moment for me to notice that the really striking effect on my face was the absence of eyebrows. No, they were there, but very bleached and thin. Was my skin different. Maybe, it certainly felt different, raw and tender. Carol smiled over my shoulder. "What do you think? I think you need plucking." She said suggestively and giggled. She brought over a stool and looked into my face. "Close your eyes Ken." She said. This was going too far. What was I doing? People would notice. I shook my head furiously. "No, no, the wig can cover my hair, but my eyebrows, they're they're..." To my surprise, Carol just smiled and placed one perfect fingertip on my startled lips. She shook her head, and still smiling, picked a small box from the counter behind her. Wordlessly she opened it. Inside were two fake eyebrows, not unlike the shape my own had been. I guessed they were made by the same people who made the wig. "They attach with gum." She said, and, closing the box, put it back on the counter. "Now, close your eyes." She repeated and, despite my misgivings, I did so. It wasn't as painful as I'd thought it would be, and Carol didn't pluck all of my eyebrows, just thinned them out and shaped them. As she did so she spoke to me. Whispered actually, as if she didn't want anyone to overhear. "I've always wanted to do this." She said conspiratorially. "I was pleased when your sister rang. I'd love to do the same thing to my boyfriend. He's a lot bigger build than you of course, but he has soft features too and a narrow jaw like yours. He has quite long hair, he's into heavy metal music, but I'd love to give him a nice straight cut, like Cameron Diaz in that film, you know? And Ooooh, I'd love to pluck his eyebrows and get him all made up. Is that too weird? Because I'm not like, you know, into girls, you know? But still, the thought of getting him all made up is like, really exciting. Maybe I'm just a wacko. What do you think? No, wait, why am I asking you?" She laughed. I'm not sure why. "All done." She said. "Now, pay attention, because your sister wants you to be able to do this yourself. She's not handing over a hundred and twenty dollars for your hair every week." A hundred and twenty bucks? Steph. Said she was paying for this but I'd no idea it was going to be so much. "You look surprised. That's what it costs dear. And that's not including the wig, or the eyebrows. They're nearly six hundred." Said Carol, matter-of-factly. I nearly fell out of the chair, but there was no time for that. First, Carol sprayed a fine mist of a setting agent into my still damp hair. Then, with a thin round brush, she rolled a thin flap of hair and, using a large dryer with a narrow slit nozzle attachment dried it at an angle to my head. Then she did another, and another, explaining what she was doing all the time. Then she selected another, thicker brush and moved along the side of my head. As she continued, I could see the style take shape, it was feminine, short, but with a parting on the side. When she was done she took a jar of hair wax and worked it in at the fringe and the parting. She combed and brushed it out again. Now the style was set. She beamed at me in the mirror. "Aren't you lovely." She said, and to my surprise, bent down and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She beamed at me again. "It seems a shame to have to take it all down again, and I'd love to start making up your eyes, but that's not for today." To my relief she brushed my hair flat again, and picked up the wig. Once it was on, I looked almost normal again, and when she'd glued the eyebrows back on, I was almost as I was when I came in, if a little cleaner, with a better haircut and clearer complexion. I stood up. "How do you feel?" Asked Carol. She had never once asked why I was doing this. I wondered what Stephanie had told her. "Fine, good actually. It was kind of fun. Now I sort of feel like I'm in disguise as myself." Carol laughed again. "In disguise! Yes, you are." She walked me back to the podium at the front of the salon. She put all the lotions, shampoo, conditioners and other jars and bottles in a big bag, along with the eyebrow box, gum and the stand for the wig. At last it was done and I was finished. I almost didn't want to go. "Good-bye Ken." Said Carol. "I hope we'll see you again soon." "Thanks Carol." I said. "Thanks for making this so easy. And fun." I added. I waved to her through the window after I was outside and she blew me a kiss. It was weird, but I felt empowered by the whole experience. I thought of how nervous I'd been when I went in, and now I felt great. I smiled to myself as I walked down the street to Duignans. I almost forgot to get the acne cream from the chemists. At 12:30 exactly I was at the entrance to Duignans. Stephanie came up behind me and I jumped when she said my name. I whirled round and she immediately began inspecting my face and hair. "Oooooh it's good. I might notice, but I bet no one else would. Dad's the real test but I bet he'll flunk it. The real question is, will Cherie be able to tell?" She looked at me. I didn't know if she expected me to answer or not. She didn't. She looked me over again, getting me to turn round so she could see the sides and back of the wig. "No. It's too good. The eyebrows are perfect a swell. She did do your eyebrows, right?" I nodded. "Wow." Said Stephanie. "It's worth the money." "Steph, Where are you getting all this money? Why are you doing this? What..." She held up her hand in my face. "Don't start blathering Ken. I'll explain when you need to know. Now, we've got a lot of shopping to do." She turned and strode into the store. I followed, and wasn't surprised when she lead me into ladies fashions. She had done some shopping already. She had some bags with her. She saw me looking at them, "Yes, stuff for you." She said. "I got some things already, but some things you will just have to try on, and I need to be sure that it will match your colouring." We were walking in the skirt section. Stephanie was looking down the rows of garments. "Try on?" I whispered desperately. "I can't try things on in here." Steph spoke o me over her shoulder, with a tone of irritation. "Yes you can. Duignan's has gone unisex, that's why we're here." She indicated the changing room area. It seemed to be made up of large booths with the usual curtains. I just looked blank. "Oh for fuck's sake Ken. Think about it. We go in together, people will assume we're girlfriend, boyfriend, not brother sister. They'll think you're buying me a present." She explained in her exasperated tone. She was already taking skirts off the racks. She held a couple up to me to check size, surreptitiously. When she'd chosen a few we went to blouses. It seemed I was getting a fairly conservative wardrobe from the selections she made there. "Now, what else." Mused Steph. "Tights!" She selected some packets from a stand. "No need for lingerie." She smirked. "I think you have an ample supply there." "Shoes?" I suggested. "Already covered. I have them in my bags." She patted one of her bulging sacks. "Scarves. You need to cover your throat when you're in your blouses." She picked out some silk neck scarves and then lead me over to the fitting rooms. No one looked at us twice. An assistant counted the garments and gave us tags to take in to the cubicle. Once inside Steph dumped the bags on the floor and hung up the prospective purchases on some hooks. "Well, let's see." She said. "See what?" I asked. Steph. rolled her eyes. "Your hair dummy." "Oh, right." I said, and gingerly lifted off my wig. "It's not as it should be." I said, indicating the flattened hair. "Give me a minute." I took out a brush and got it back to something approaching what it had been. "Obviously, this isn't perfect, but I'd need a bit of time and the wax to get it back to the way Carol had it." I said. I stopped. A strange smile was playing on Stephanie's mouth. "What?" I asked. Steph just smiled more and walked over to me. She patted my new blond hair and gave me a little kiss on the cheek, just like Carol had done. "Nothing." She said. "Now, get those trainers and jeans off and let's see how you look in these shoes." It took ages. She made me try on several different skirts until she was happy. I wasn't keen on the scarves that she liked and we almost started an argument over the blouses. I didn't like the ones she was picking out and was suggesting a different one, a blue one with a high collar. "Look, Ken." She said at one point. "This is an office job you're going for, you'll be making coffee, filing, running out to the shops, that kind of thing. You need practical, plain stuff, not fancy blouses. Anyway they'd see your bra through that material." Bra? This brought me back to earth again. How was I going to pull this off? I felt queasy. "Ken, Ken, Ken. Don't look like that. It'll be okay, trust me." Said Steph. "I won't let you make a fool of yourself. You just need to get a bit of confidence, and trust me. It'll be fine. Look, I'll get you the blue blouse you like, if you want, you don't have to wear it to work." "It's not the blouse Steph." I wailed. "It's the collar. Look, the scarves are okay, they hide my Adam's apple, but they can fall down, and they feel weird around my throat. High collars are better. And anyway, does anyone wear scarves all the time these days?" "Hmmm. I see what you mean. " She said, gazing at my reflection in the mirror. She seemed almost impressed with my argument. "Actually, that gives me an idea." She dashed out of the cubicle to get something else. I wondered what the assistant would think. I was beginning not to care. While Steph was gone, I regarded myself in the mirror. It wouldn't work. Quite simply, I was the wrong shape. No-one would be fooled. Then why was I doing this? I cringed. Because I liked it. Steph had been polite enough not to mention my obvious boner. It would have been pointless. We both knew this turned me on. I had as much as admitted that I wanted this lovely blue blouse. But Steph wasn't doing this for my kinky thrill. She seemed to really believe I could pass for a girl. Despite myself I found myself hoping she was right. "Ta daaa." She was back and she had a soft blue angora sweater with a very high collar in one hand and a white cotton top with a very high, floppy roll-neck in the other. "Oh lovely." I gushed, without thinking and Steph laughed again and gave me another peck on the cheek. Twenty minutes later we were at the till and the assistant was ringing up the purchases. "My you're really splashing out aren't you." Said the girl, impressed. She should have been. The total bill was pushing five hundred. 'My' blouse alone was eighty bucks. As we left, heading to where Steph had parked, I asked Steph again where she was getting the money for all this. She'd paid with a cheque. "Don't worry about it Ken." She said. "You can thank me by doing a good job." I hadn't been thanking her, I thought. I wondered about it. "Thanks anyway." I said finally. "Not for the clothes, but for the stuff in the hairdressers." "Oh? Did you like that, Sissy boy? Did you like getting your hair done?" Asked Steph, suddenly kind of cruel again. I blushed at her words, and hung my head. "Oh don't sulk baby." Said Steph. in a pouty tone. "You are a sissy boy and we both know it. Don't worry, nobody will know but your big sister." I was quiet all the way home, and Steph didn't push me. As we drove in, Steph told me to bring all the clothes and other stuff up to my room and be sure to put it away carefully but hidden. She said that she had to go out again but that she'd be back later that evening. "Then, we can get down to business." She said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "A trial run." She said. "The full get-up, clothes, bra, make-up. Oh! before I get back, have a shower, and depilate your legs. There's a bottle already in one of these bags and the instructions are on there." I just nodded, there was no point in protesting. Also, I longed to beat off, and the thought of sliding my new pantyhose up smooth legs was just fabulous enough to drive all doubts out of my mind. I grabbed the bags out of the car. "One more question Steph. Where are you going now?" Steph stared straight ahead, and a look of hate came over her face. "To our prospective Stepmom's bridal shower." She said, and with that she gunned the engine and roared out of the drive, leaving me holding the bags. Part Four The wedding was in two days time. Other people's preparations were underway as well as my transformation into an office temp. Dad was booking the honeymoon, I'd been bought a suit, there was a rehearsal which I had to go to tomorrow, It was all pretty hectic at our house these days. I hurried inside before Dad got back and found me in the drive with all this stuff. I unpacked and hid everything in my room. Oh God, the clothes were so delicious. I had never really admitted this to myself before but I really did want to wear women's clothes. It was going to be fantastic. In the other bags I discovered some other things that Steph had got for me. As well as the hair remover there was extensive amounts of pretty heavy-duty makeup, some simple but elegant jewellery, including some clip-on earrings. I also discovered my new bras. I was to be a B-cup, it seemed, and there were, as expected, gel breastforms. I tried them on, inside one of my new bras. I put on the rollneck cotton top. I admired my profile in the mirror. I liked it. The last surprise was a waist cincher, and what appeared to be a pair of padded panties. These had come from a shop called MissTer. I groaned a little when I saw this. These were not exciting undergarments, these were hardcore transvestite paraphernalia, designed to give a man the shape of woman's body. They brought home to me that Steph. was deadly serious about this. I packed it all away, and went downstairs to get some dinner ready. Dad came home from his golf outing just as I was just finished preparing the dinner. "Steph gone to the shower already?" He asked. "Yeah, she left an hour ago." I said. "So, just us two men dining this evening Ken." Said Dad. I wasn't feeling particularly manly at that moment, but I agreed, yes it would be just the two of us together. We chatted about the holidays, and school and sports over dinner. Finally, Dad said. "So, Ken. What do you think of Cherie? It'll take a bit of getting used to - having a woman around the house again, won't it." Dad was sounding me out, I realised. He was probably still a little worried about how we'd all adjust to these new arrangements once Cherie had moved in. "Well, there's always been Steph." I said, just trying to avoid the conversation. In truth I wanted to get back upstairs to have my shower and try on some clothes. Dad's expression grew more serious. "Yes, Stephanie. There's always Stephanie." He said, deep in thought. He turned to me. "Has she spoken to you about Cherie? Do you guys, like, talk?" Dad could be an asshole when he tried to get down with the kids. "Sure, yeah. I think she's cool with it. With the whole 'Stepmom' thing." I said. "That's good, that's good. That whole mother-daughter-stepmother thing can be really difficult you know, really Freudian." He paused. "I hope things will be okay between them." He paused again. I didn't know what to say. "You see, Ken. After your Mom moved out, Steph, naturally, stepped into her shoes in a lot of ways. She runs this house, as you know. She does all the shopping, all the bills, all that stuff. I've relied on her, quite frankly, and there's no way I could have coped without her." He paused, gathering his thoughts. There was something he was trying to articulate but didn't know how. "But Cherie, you see she's pretty strong willed too. In fact they're kind of alike in many ways. She'll want to do things her way. She'll want to make this house her own. Women are like that. They like to make their own nests. She's already been picking out colours." I looked blank. "Paint." He said. "She wants to start redecorating as soon as we get back from the honeymoon. I told her - we've only just redecorated here last year - but she won't listen. It's not that she doesn't like the way the house is now, she just wants to do it her way. Nestmaking." He shrugged. "I see. I think. But what's that got to do with Steph?" I asked. Dad just stared at me. "You've a lot to learn about women Ken." Was all he said. He started to clear up the dishes. Dad was going to be going to his own Stag party later on that evening, and he was going to stay over with one of his friends who had a flat in the city rather than drive home drunk. I returned upstairs and, grabbing the bottle of hair remover, went into the bathroom. It said to apply, and then leave for twenty minutes before showering off. I did as instructed. While I waited, I flicked through some of Steph's magazines that she kept in the bathroom. I looked at make-up tips. I lingered over the lingerie adverts. I wondered about the prices of some of the dresses. Soon, I was ready to get into the shower. The stuff smelt revolting. I wondered about the wig. Should I take it off? I decided I would, I'd wash my own hair and see if I could get it back to the way Carol had it before. Just as I removed the wig I heard Dad shout out goodbye from downstairs. I waited to make sure he drove off - I didn't want to bump into him as I returned to my room. When I was sure he was gone I stepped into the shower. Ten minutes later I stepped out again, another step nearer to being a girl. I towelled myself off quickly, marvelling at the difference the absence of hair made to my legs. I ran back to my room. I really wanted to jerk off, but I wanted to get my hair right first, and in any case, I really ought to do it while it was damp. I got Steph's hair dryer and sat down in front of the mirror. I put in the lotion that Carol had used, combed and then carefully blow dried. It wasn't as easy as Carol had made it seem, but I wasn't displeased with the result. I put in the wax, and teased it into the lovely shape that Carol had shown me. Now it looked good, but there was still something wrong. With a laugh I peeled off the eyebrows. The shower had melted the glue so they came away easily. I realised that I would have to be careful about wearing them. It would be easy to forget I was wearing them, or not. I placed them into their protective case and looked back at my face. I squirmed a little. Was it just wishful t