Kelly Girl Chapter 10 Pretty Dolly
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Kelly Girl 7: Too Pretty For A Boy free porn video
Copyright 1999, 2002 by Wanda Cunningham. Lainie, Vickie, Rebel,
Bashful, and everyone else thanks for the encouragement. There is
no actual sex or transformation in this chapter, but I guess it
should be rated R for context. So, nobody under 18 should read
this, or whatever is the appropriate age in their community. This
story deals with transgenderism in children and may be
uncomfortable for some readers.
Kelly Girl
Chapter 7 "Too Pretty for a Boy"
By Wanda Cunningham
Kelly held the pink teddy bear in his lap for a moment, not
moving much, just taking a bit of comfort in the soft faux-
furriness. After a bit he reached over and picked up his glasses
to put them back on and propped the bear against the pillows on
the bed. "Stay," he said to the bear, feeling a bit silly. He did
like the bear, though, even if it was pink. When he'd been
younger, he'd wanted just such a large teddy to keep him company
when his mom went to work at night.
"If I were a girl," he said aloud to the toy, "you would be mine
and you'd be perfect." He sighed, blushing a little to be
expressing such feelings to an inanimate object.
Resolutely, he turned and sat watching himself in the mirrors of
the closet doors for another long moment. It was such an odd
picture, the pretty little girl sitting on the big beautiful bed
amid her toys and dolls and menagerie of plush. The illusion, if
it was an illusion, seemed nearly perfect, the cheap wire rim
glasses being the principal jarring note. Kelly fingered the
bridge of the glasses and wondered just what sort of eyewear
someone who belonged in this room would wear.
Finally, he got up and stripped off the PJ's and laid them on the
bed. He stood in the pink, lace-edged panties looking in the
mirrors again. The tiny bulge of his boyhood made hardly a
wrinkle in his feminine underpants.
He turned left and right, looking at himself and blushing. His
soft, slender arms and legs, delicate pixie-like face, mop of
dark-blonde hair--even nearly naked he did look like a girl.
Probably a lot of boys would, especially ones needing haircuts as
badly as he did, though some boys and most girls his age did not
look so much like children and had reached a true adolescence.
For all of being twelve, Kelly looked like a child and not like
someone who would be a teenager in only a bit more than seven
months.
He walked around the room again, touching some of the incredibly
girlish items, like the ballerina lamp and the kittens-in-a-
basket clock. Now and then he checked to see how he looked in the
mirror, almost lost in all the feminine abundance.
He realized again what he had already known; it wasn't just his
looks, it was also how he moved. The whole mix-up yesterday; even
nearly naked it was understandable that some people might think
that he was a girl because of how he moved, how he held his head
and hands.
"I'm such a sissy," he sighed and fought the urge to cry which
would only prove the accusation.
Kelly took off his glasses again and wiped his eyes. He had tried
to break himself of girly mannerisms, he didn't really like
getting beat up by the boys at school. Or laughed at by the
girls.
Yesterday had been so different, he'd been accepted. Accepted as
a girl, but still both the boys and the girls had accepted him.
He sighed again. It had been weird but he had had fun, though he
hated to admit it even to himself. He had never, ever, played
Marco Polo before; public swimming pools were simply cauldrons of
cruelty for a boy like him and he had frequently gone to the
extreme of pretending to be sick to avoid swimming with large
groups of other children.
Barbie, though, could swim like a dolphin and had taught him to
swim even before he started school. Thinking of her made his
heart ache a bit, he missed his blonde, ditzy, cheerful, funny
mother. "Stop it," he told himself, trying not to cry again. "I'm
supposed to go down for breakfast with Andie."
Back at the mirrored doors of the closet, he stood for a moment,
"Now what?" he wondered to himself. "Maybe I should put my boys'
clothes back on."
He started to take them out of the plastic grocery bag that
Richard had brought them back in. Wendy or Cheryl must have
stuffed them in there, but wonderingly, he discovered the bag
held two more girl's bathing suits as well. And a note. "These
don't fit me anymore, you can have them if you want. I'm giving
the ugly one to somebody who's really poor. W-y."
"W-y? Must be Wendy. Am I going to have to think of a cute way to
sign my name now?" He giggled, trying to imagine. One thing for
sure, he wasn't going to do to his name the same thing Wendy had
done to hers.
He sighed and started hunting through the chest of drawers;
finding where the swimsuits were, he put the two new gifts with
the frilly, flouncy ones bought for the absent Darla. The suit he
had worn yesterday was still damp and he hung it on the bar above
the shower to dry.
His boy clothes he held in his hand and stared at for a bit. "I
ought to just put these back on," he told himself. But it didn't
really sound like a good idea. Nor would it likely convince
anyone of his true sex or get him out of the curious trap he
seemed to be in. He sighed and put the boy stuff back into the
grocery bag and put the bag inside Barbie's pink overnighter, and
the overnighter on the floor of the closet.
The thing that really stopped him from wearing his old clothes
was that he always wore fresh underwear every day. The girl's
panties he was wearing qualified as clean since he had only worn
them to sleep in. And if he was going to be wearing such girly
undies, well, he would feel almost weirder to wear boy clothes on
top of them.
Like he was pretending to be a girl but didn't want anyone to
know, or--that he was a girl dressing as a boy. He made a face
and deliberately shivered to get rid of that thought.
He looked through the closet. The selection leaned heavily toward
party clothes, sweet little dresses with lace and bows, even one
with little bells. Bells? Kelly shook his head; some guy had
picked out this wardrobe, surely, someone with an exaggerated
sense of just what it meant to be a little girl.
In spite of himself, he giggled a bit, trying to imagine wearing
some of these things. A few were probably too small, it had been
a wardrobe for an eight-year-old, after all, but Kelly was thin
and short and had been the smallest, skinniest kid, boy or girl,
in his class ever since pre-school.
He pulled a few items out to look at them; why weren't there any
pants or slacks? Well, there was one set, but that was almost
more of a costume--pink jeans with white leather sewn-on pockets
and patches, a pink gingham shirt and red and white bandanna--a
cowgirl costume.
"I'm not going to wear that," he said aloud. Besides, that was
one of the few things that did look as if it might be too small.
He held a red party dress up against his chest and stepped
sideways to stand in front of the mirror. He felt the hair on his
neck stand up, it was just too perfect of a look for him, or
rather for the sweet little girl he would seem to be if he wore
it.
"Gah," he said and put the party dress back, realizing as he did
though, that it had probably cost more than anything in Barbie's
wardrobe back in the apartment. "Is it silk?" he murmured
wonderingly. It sure felt like silk and the thought of damaging
such a valuable thing compelled him to be extra careful.
He stepped back from the closet and shivered. The silk had felt
so nice.
He thought about all the times he had watched Barbie getting
dressed and the times, not really that often, he had played
dress-up with her clothes. Yesterday wasn't the first time he had
ever worn girl's clothes if you counted Barbie as a girl rather
than a woman.
He frowned, remembering. Amanda, his grandmother, who he and
Barbie had lived with off and on for his first nine years, had
caught him at that shameful behavior more than once. The first
few times she'd spanked him but one time she caught him, she'd
threatened to have his penis cut off.
After that, she made the same threat every time she caught him.
Once, when he was seven and home sick from school, Amanda caught
him playing with Barbie's makeup. She made him wash his face and
took him to the doctor for the bad cold but told him she had
finally decided to have him turned into a girl and the doctor
would do it with a big knife that had notches in it.
Kelly remembered sitting in the doctor's waiting room, his face
scrubbed until it stung, wondering how bad the operation would
hurt, but sitting quietly and waiting. Of course, the doctor had
done nothing except listen to his chest, prescribe Tylenol,
fluids and bed rest.
Amanda had complained later to Barbie that she had meant to talk
to the doctor about Kelly's 'disgusting' behavior but had been
too ashamed. Barbie had laughed about it when they were alone and
told Kelly not to play with her things when she was gone. When
asked why, Barbie had said only that it upset Amanda.
After they moved out of Amanda's place for good, three years ago,
he had had Barbie's cooperation in playing with her clothes. She
had set a few aside, warning him that she needed them to work in
and he shouldn't mess them up. The rest of her wardrobe, she told
him, he was free to play with. A few times, they'd even made a
sort of game of it. Once she had painted his fingernails for him.
Not that he had done that sort of thing a lot, he told himself,
his cheeks burning slightly. Not with his mother's help or even
by himself. Just, once in a while, when he was bored, or really
sad or wanting to feel close to his Mom when she was at work. If
she was gone all night he would sometimes wear something of hers
to bed, his favorite thing to do that with being a very short
robe that always smelled like Barbie.
The games had been fun and the other times had been comforting
but he'd never gone out in public dressed as a girl until
yesterday. He hadn't really even considered it. He had been told
many times that he was pretty enough to be a girl, sometimes even
that he was too pretty to be a boy. The most admirable adult in
his young life had always been his mother and often he had wished
that he could be just like her. Not that he wished to be a girl,
but that he could be Barbie.
Kind, generous, hard-working and fun-loving Barbie seemed to him
to be what a person should be. He'd always had his doubts about
her taste in men, though; some of her boyfriends had been
violent. Once they had to leave in the middle of the night while
the abuser was drunk. They had stayed at a friend's house until
"the prick" as Barbie had called him, had finished trashing their
stuff and left town.
The friend had wanted Barbie to call the police but Barbie had
refused. For fear, he knew, that involvement with the police
might give Amanda a chance to get custody of Kelly. An exotic
dancer who brings home violent men just doesn't sound like
someone who would be a good mom to most social workers.
Another time, he remembered, one of Barbie's boyfriend's had
caught Kelly playing with Barbie's cheap jewelry and slapped him,
calling him "a little queer." Barbie had thrown the boyfriend
out, or really, chased him out with a pan of hot grease, after
threatening to castrate him if he ever touched Kelly again.
The man had been mystified by Barbie's reaction. "That kid needs
a man around or he's going to grow up to be a faggot," he'd
warned.
But Barbie had been unmoved, "You're not the man," she had told
him in a chillingly mean voice so very unlike her normal bedroom
coo. Barbie had been much madder about Kelly being threatened
than she had been at the guy who had thrown their refrigerator
out the window.
Thinking about Barbie's protectiveness made Kelly feel oddly
comforted. They had moved twice to get Kelly into schools where
he might not be picked on so much by bullies. It hadn't really
worked, he reflected, it seldom took much longer than an hour in
a new school before the bullies discovered him.
Kelly knew also that Barbie danced naked, or nearly so, in front
of strange men--that it was in fact her preferred method of
earning a living. "Anything's easier than waiting tables," she
explained when he asked. He could sort of understand that after
watching his tiny mom race around a big restaurant carrying
heavily loaded trays, and taking only short breaks during an
eight-hour shift. Cocktail waitressing paid better tips and
dancing better still.
He had even faced the fact that his mother had slept with men for
money when he and she had most needed it. Just that, in fact, had
been the precipitating event that had led to their leaving
Amanda's.
"No whore is any daughter of mine," Amanda had said in one of her
drunken, self-pitying rages.
It was no virtue but Barbie had managed to keep her amateur
status, lying with men for money only when she had needed to pay
utilities, get her car fixed or pay a doctor bill. Once she had
earned $500 for a private afternoon on a boat, she'd needed a new
transmission for her car. He thought he had been setting up such
an assignment yesterday for the unbelievable sum of $5000. "I
didn't think you'd want to marry him!" he exclaimed to the absent
Barbie.
He wiped his eyes again, this time using a pink tissue from a
dispenser that looked like a pony. Barbie had done a few things
that society would definitely frown on but she drew the line at
full-time prostitution.
Was it the ultimate prostitution, to marry for money? He felt
sure that she did not love Harold Mann, that in fact, she had
never loved any of her boyfriends. She simply felt the need for a
man in her life from time to time. Perhaps she had decided that
Harold Mann's proposal was an acceptable long time answer to a
recurring problem.
He was not sure she had not conceived of it as being something
she was doing for both of them. Barbie had her own integrity, a
rigid code of conduct as strict as any religious orthodoxy in its
own way. Had she realized what was going to happen to him? He
wanted desperately to talk to her, to find out what she wanted
him to do.
"Kelly," Andie's voice startled him by coming from the wall.
"Kel-lee-ee." An intercom, there was an intercom by the door.
"Kelly, get your cute little butt down here or I'm going to come
up there and paddle you. That ish all."
Kelly smiled, ruefully. "I'd better get dressed." Everyone in the
house felt sure that he would come downstairs dressed as a girl.
Why should he disappoint them?
He had a choice though, he could go through Barbie's things in
the pink overnight bag that had been mistakenly brought in from
the car. His own stuff, except what he had been wearing
yesterday, had gone to Las Vegas with Barbie in the magenta bag.
He rather hoped that Dr. Mann would spend money on new things for
his Mom. She deserved them.
But for himself, he decided to go along with the gag and wear
something that had been bought for the vanished Darla. It made
him blush to think about it but it seemed like a funny sort of
thing to do. Humorous, not odd. Well, odd, too, but the whole
situation was odd.
He looked through the closet again, a jumper skort, similar to
the jumper Barbie had worn Friday, seemed a good answer. Of
course, it had a pink flower print pattern with little yellow
bows at the shoulders and waist, but it wasn't actually a skirt
and seemed a little more casual than some of the choices in the
closet.
He pulled on a yellow t-shirt he found in a drawer, it had
French-style cuffs and a pink bias neckline. No one would see the
silly mouse in petticoats, on the chest--that would be covered by
the bib yoke of the jumper.
Still, Kelly blushed as he stepped into the skort and settled it
around him. In the mirror he looked like a cute little girl, not
a twelve-year-old but a much younger little girl. One in great
need of a hairbrush.
He grabbed a brush off the dresser, the handle looked like Minnie
Mouse, and ran it through his hair a few times. Better, but what
was he going to do about his hair. He thought about taking Andie
up on her offer of a buzz cut and got the giggles thinking about
how silly that would look with what he was wearing.
What he was wearing. Kelly looked at himself again, turning this
way and that, thinking about how much dressing like this made him
look even more like his mom. "I don't know why I'm doing this,"
he said aloud and shook his head.
The shoes in the closet included a pair of white sandals that
seemed a fair fit. Kelly slipped the girly shoes on and stepped
out into the hall with one last glance in the mirrors at the
pretty little girl.
Pete, the older Mann brother, half the size of a moose, looked up
from where he sat on the floor eating Cheerios from a bowl as big
as his head. "Hey, Skipper, you look cute."
Kelly giggled, he couldn't help it. I know I look cute, he
thought, I guess that's the idea.
Richard peered around the couch, "Babe alert!" he called out.
Kelly turned his back on the teasing boys and headed toward the
stairs, "You guys!" he protested. At least they were both dressed
this time.
They laughed. Not mean laughter but pleasant amusement, enjoyment
of the silliness of their comments. Kelly felt a brief stab of
fear, though. Boys very much like the two large, athletic,
confident Manns had frequently caused him grief and pain. Boys
whose cruel laughter had made Kelly feel sick with terror all too
often.
Pausing at the top of the stairs for a moment he looked back
toward the TV room, still apprehensive. The two idiots waved at
him enthusiastically.
"Bye, Kelly," called Pete, using the tablespoon in his hand to
wave with.
"Bye, Aunt Skipper," added Richard.
Kelly rolled his eyes and giggled, those two made it difficult to
stay afraid of them. At least, as long as they still thought that
he was a girl. Kelly bit his lip to stop the nervous giggles and
started down the stairs where Andie waited with breakfast.
Copyright 1999, 2002 by Wanda Cunningham
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