The Re-Education Of Jesse free porn video

Having read and enjoyed a few of the popular "girls' school for boys" stories posted here and elsewhere, I decided to try my hand at it, to see if I could come up with something that was, if not "better," at least "different"... The Re-Education of Jesse - Part One Chapter One - The Academy The big Mercedes sedan rolled steadily northward under leaden skies, past farm fields long since harvested, yellow-grey stubble poking through the parched soil. It had been a dry autumn. As she drove, Mrs. De Bont concentrated on the road ahead, but from time to time she would steal a glance at her companion in the passenger seat next to her. He sat, sullen and unresponsive, refusing to return her gaze, though he would feel her eyes on him. The silence had become oppressive, the radio long quieted as they passed beyond the range of the city's broadcasts. Finally, she spoke. "You know, this is for your own good. And who knows? You might even come to like it, if you allow yourself. I heard that..." "Give it a break, Mom," he interrupted, shortly, "We've been through this. Why do I have to go to this damn school? I was doing fine where I was." "You were NOT doing fine where you were, unless you consider being suspended twice in as many months 'doing fine.' This school will teach you some manners, and may even give you a proper education, besides. I daresay they are reputed to have some of the best teachers in the country. God knows your grades couldn't be much worse than they are." "And I have to wear a uniform? Shit." "Language!" his mother responded sharply, then hesitated, "... Um, well, yes. They do have... er, uniforms. Actually, I believe they allow their students to wear different clothes, depending on the circumstances. The standard... uniform, is only for when you are attending academic classes." "Wow," he replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "Different clothes. Gosh, how will they EVER maintain discipline?" "Look, Jesse," his mother continued, "We've paid the fees for the coming semester, and they're not refundable at this late date. You're going to the Academy for at least a year and that's that. You know what the guidance counselor said. He went so far as to suggest that you go to Fort Comstock military school. Would you prefer that? At least here you'll be in comfortable surroundings, with other... other boys whom you are likely to get along with. You might even make some friends. Wouldn't that be nice? Remember Melissa Gilbert? Her son has been going there for three years; of course he'll be a few grades ahead of you." "Friends!" Jesse retorted contemptuously, "I suppose they're all 'discipline problems' like me?" "I really have no idea. I imagine there are all sorts of boys. They'll all be from rather wealthy backgrounds, through, I expect. The tuition is terribly high." With nothing to say to this, her son fell back into a morose silence, and they continued up the highway without speaking for some time. As she drove, his mother concentrated on the road ahead, but periodically stole surreptitious glances at her son seated beside her. He'll do well there, I think, she reflected, as she observed his slight frame, large, liquid blue eyes, long lashes, and his long blonde hair, pulled back into a neat ponytail. Yes, I think he'll do very well... Eventually, they turned off the main highway and down a narrow side road. A thin rain had begun to fall, the first in many weeks. The trees, almost denuded of leaves, were outlined starkly against the darkening sky. A mile further on, they slowed and turned into a wide driveway, passing beneath an ornate wrought-iron arch, supported by stone columns on either side of the entrance. "L'Academie de L'Abb? de Choisy - Abb? de Choisy Academy" it read. They continued up the drive, past well-manicured lawns and gardens, toward an immense stone structure in the distance. Several outbuildings, almost equally impressive, were to be seen on the grounds behind it. As they approached, two figures appeared from around the corner of the main building, similarly dressed in pale blue summer frocks and high heels. They clutched books above their heads to shield their hair from the drizzle as they dashed toward the portico of the main entrance, then ran inside and disappeared. Jesse's mother pulled the car into a parking space, and Jesse pulled a small suitcase out of the back seat. "How come I couldn't bring more of my stuff?" he complained, "There's not enough clothes in here to last more than a couple of days. And why no Playstation or iPod?" "Your... clothes will be provided," his mother responded after a slight hesitation, "And they have a rule about no video games or music players. I don't think you'll find you have time for that sort of thing anyway. They keep you pretty busy here from what I've heard, what with classes and all sorts of extra-curricular activities. They sound like fun, too. I don't think you'll miss your games or your music for long." "Super," Jesse replied, curling his lip. They moved quickly through the thickening rain to the wide stone steps that led up to the main entrance. Over the wide, carved wooden doors was engraved the words "Ex Inhumanitas Puer Ut Civilis Puella, Semper". Once inside, Jesse's mother extracted a letter from her purse and scrutinized it, while he looked around the wide, marble-floored lobby. At the entrance to one corridor, a cluster of three girls, identically dressed in crested navy blazers, short matching skirts, high heels and white blouses, talked quietly together. Occasional giggles, echoing from the vaulted ceiling, drifted to him. When one caught sight of him, she nudged her companion and all three fell silent and smiled at him. He was still absorbing this, an increasingly puzzled expression on his face, when a pair of teenaged girls, somewhat older than him, passed quickly through the lobby, chattering excitedly to each other. They were carrying tennis rackets, and wore white tennis costumes, sleeveless, with short pleated skirts, white ankle socks and sneakers. They, too, smiled at him as they passed, then disappeared down a side corridor. Jesse frowned. "Hey, what's the deal, Mom?" he said, puzzled, "I thought you said this was an all-boys school. Not that I'm complaining," he added to himself, reflecting that the girls he'd seen so far were all quite pretty. His mother didn't respond immediately. Then, she looked up from the letter, avoiding his gaze. "I think it's down this way," she said, pointing. "Excuse me, ma'am..." one of the three uniformed girls had come up to them, "Are you looking for the headmistress's office?" "Yes, we are," Jesse's mother smiled, "This building is so huge..." "No problem!" the girl said brightly, "I can take you there. Follow me, please." She set off down the left-hand hall. "I know how confusing this place can be when you first arrive," she said animatedly, "I remember my first few weeks. But you get used to it in no time!" As they walked, Jesse stole glances at her. She WAS quite pretty. Tall, about his height, perhaps a year or two older, with long straight brunette hair pulled back with a wooden barrette, small silver hoops in her ears, noticeable but not overdone makeup, and pale pink frosted nail polish on her surprisingly long nails. She was slim, and nicely built, with long slender legs in navy knee-high stockings, black Mary Janes with a medium heel, and small but attractive breasts. Jesse, feeling unexpectedly shy in her presence, kept silent as she led them down the wide hallway. As they walked, Jesse noticed that, in addition to the sort of wall decorations that grace school hallways everywhere, portraits of previous staff, examples of student art, trophy cases and photos of school activities, there were also several full-length mirrors here and there; his reflection stared back at him unexpectedly at intersections and doorways. "Here we are!" the girl said, stopping before a wide double-door with frosted glass bearing the words 'Office of the Headmistress'. "Please just go in. I would imagine they're expecting you. Have a wonderful stay!" she continued, looking at Jesse, and smiling, "We'll probably see each other again soon!" And she was off. They entered. A young, very attractive, statuesque blonde woman was seated behind the counter. Jesse's eyes widened as he took in her tight, low-cut black dress that revealed more than a little cleavage. Now that's what I call a receptionist, he thought, and brushed his upper lip to hide his smile. His mother, who betrayed no apparent reaction to the other's attire, spoke up. "Good morning. Mrs. De Bont and Jesse to see Madame La Farge..." "Yes, of course," the other smiled, "Please, go right in. She's expecting you." Madame La Farge was a tall, dark haired woman of perhaps forty-five, elegantly dressed in a navy jacket and skirt set over a white blouse that echoed the uniforms they'd seen earlier. Her hair was pinned in a businesslike up-do, a string of pearls at her neck, and matching earrings. She stood and emerged from behind her desk, taking Mrs. De Bont's hand and shaking it warmly. "Mrs. De Bont! So nice to meet you at last. Dominique La Farge. And this must be Jesse," she went on, "Very nice to meet you, as well." Her voice was low and mellifluous, with the merest trace of a Parisian accent. "Please, sit down. Would you care for some coffee or tea?" "Tea would be lovely, thank you," Jesse's mother smiled. "Angelica," Mme. La Farge spoke into her intercom, "Would you please bring us some tea? Three cups. Thank you!" She sat and smiled at them. "Now," she began, "I can assume that you have not told Jesse very much about our little academy? No? How very wise. We find it best that our... methods... be discussed in full only when the new student is here, and ready to join us. It allows us to explain things most fully, and of course answer any questions that either of you may have." "How come there are girls here?" Jesse interrupted, "I thought this was a boys' school." "Please be patient. All will be explained in due time. Alors. Let me tell you a little about our school. We have, of course, been in business for over thirty years. I myself have been headmistress for the past twelve. Our techniques have matured over that time, and have become, if you'll forgive the conceit, perfected, so we believe. Our methods are, as you will understand," here she smiled at Mrs. De Bont, "somewhat... unorthodox but, our record speaks for itself. Our students come to love our little academy, though of course there is always some initial resistance, and though thousands have passed through these doors, in all this time we have never had a single failure of our techniques." She smiled proudly. "Maintenant, perhaps the time has come for me to explain our methods... Ah, here is our tea. Thank you, Angelica!" The receptionist entered carrying a tray bearing three cups, and a tea set. Wordlessly, she placed it on the desk, smiled, and left. "Our techniques." Mme. La Farge continued as she poured, "Perhaps you noticed the academy's motto over the main entrance? Yes? Good! Roughly translated from the Latin, it means, 'From uncouth boys to demure girls, always.' That is our creed, and our philosophy." "What the hell does that mean?" Jesse broke in, "That doesn't make any sense." "Ah but it will!" Mme. La Farge's eyes twinkled, "You see, most of the boys that come here have, for one reason or another, proven that they are unfit to enter civilized society in their present, ah, form, if you will. We apply our methods to ensure that, when they graduate, they are eminently suited to that very destiny. A 'transformation complet', if you will, a complete transformation. You asked if this is, in fact, a boys' school. It is. Everyone within these walls, with the exception of course of the teaching and administrative staff, are boys." Mrs. De Bont squirmed slightly in her seat, and watched her son's face intently. It was, of course, the moment of truth. Jesse stared at Mme. La Farge uncomprehendingly, for a few moments, then his face contorted suddenly in a rictus of horror and disgust. "What?" he breathed, "WHAT?! What the fuck are you talking about?" "Language," his mother whispered, unnoticed. "What the... Do you mean that all those... girls..." his mouth worked but no sound came out. His face turned crimson. "Oui, c'est correct," Mme. La Farge went on, unperturbed. She turned to his mother. "Please do not distress yourself, Mrs. De Bont. This is, of course, a typical reaction of a new student. But I assure you, his attitude will not last long. All of our..." "It damn well will!" Jesse retorted hotly, "Mom!" he turned to her, "You can't be serious! This is crazy. It's insane. I won't do it! You can't possibly expect me to stay here! For God's sake Mom, let's go! Let's get the hell out of here! This is a loony bin!" "I'm sorry, Jesse," his mother said firmly, "The decision has been made. You'll have to stay." "You mean you actually want me to... I won't!" he cried. Horrifyingly, he felt tears prick at his eyes, "I won't do it, Mom! Please don't make me!" "Jesse," Mme. La Farge went on calmly, "Perhaps you would care to sit outside in the office for a few minutes. Your mother and I have some things to discuss." "I'm not staying!" he quavered, "I'll... I'll run away if I have to!" "Jesse..." his mother began, but Mme. La Farge broke in smoothly. "Jesse," she said, "I understand perfectly how you feel, but you must understand that your mother has made this decision for your own good. And, although your don't believe it now, you will come to like it here. Everyone does. Now please wait in the office for a few minutes. There are some magazines you can read if you like." "I..." "Jesse!" Mme. La Farge spoke sharply for the first time, "We demand obedience here! You WILL wait in the office!" And Jesse, to his surprise and horror, complied. He plunked himself furiously down in one of a row of chairs next to the office door and pawed through some magazines that were stacked on a low end table. To his dismay, they were all fashion magazines, Cosmopolitan, Elle, Vogue, and the like. He tossed them aside contemptuously, and sank into a funk. The receptionist smiled at him across the counter. "So," Jesse said to her after a few minutes, "What do you think of this madhouse?" "I love it here," she replied immediately, "And so does everyone else. You will too." "No fucking way," he responded decisively, "And I'm not going to find out, either. I'm outa here the minute my Mom's done in there." The other's smile widened. "I very much doubt that," she said easily, "Believe me, I've seen dozens, hundreds of young boys sitting in that very chair, saying the very same things. Every last one of them came to love it here. You should see them at graduation! So many of them actually break down in tears at the thought of leaving." "God. That's so fucked..." he mumbled, "So what about you? How did you get this job?" "I'm a graduate," she replied, still smiling. "A graduate? But you're a wom..." "I am NOW," she said. Jesse's face registered extreme shock. "You mean..." "That's right. I came here nine years ago as a student. And believe me, I was just as upset as you are now. It was such an adjustment! I was one of the worst holdouts, too! They called me 'incorrigible!' Took me ages to come to terms with this place. But once I did... well, let's just say that I came to love this place so much, that I came back to work here. I'm not just a receptionist, you know. I'm also one of the professors. I teach hygiene, help out Mistress Monique in sex education classes, and give tennis lessons besides. I decided to pursue gender reassignment five years ago. I love it here. I love molding young unruly boys into elegant, beautiful young women. It's very rewarding, and so much fun besides. Sometimes I even help with the milking." "The what?" Jesse's face was a mask of disgust, "'Milking?' What the hell is that?" "You'll find out soon enough," the other replied, smiling. "Don't count on it." Just then, the door burst open, and two girls about Jesse's age rushed in. They both wore pretty, flowing dresses in lilac print, short- sleeved and mid-calf length, with high-heeled sandals. They both wore identical pearl necklaces and earrings, light makeup and nail polish. But... thought Jesse... they can't be girls, I guess, they must be... My God! "Miss Donovan!" they exclaimed, after casting quick, flirtatious smiles in Jesse's direction, "Miss Donovan, we need the keys to the auditorium! We have to rehearse for the variety show tomorrow night and we can't find Mr. Summers to let us in!" "Girls, girls!" the woman responded, smiling warmly at them, "Calm down! Here are the keys; please return them when you're done. And good luck tomorrow night!" "Thank you!" "Thank you!" they cried excitedly, and then they were gone in a flurry of lilac skirts. Jesse pointed at the door. "They're..." "Of course!" Miss Donovan replied, and winked. "Christ..." --- In Mme. La Farge's office, she and Jesse's mother were finishing their tea. "As I said earlier," the headmistress went on, "Our methods have been perfected over time, and I daresay they are almost infallible. If you like, I will take you to meet some of our students. I think you'll be most impressed. We've never had a student fail to complete our program, and we're very proud of our graduates. They re-enter society as elegant, sophisticated young ladies with the best education in both academic studies and social graces. Fully seventy-five percent of our graduates choose to continue to live as young women, and of those, well over half decide to pursue gender reassignment. And they do come to love it here! So many of them actually weep when it is finally time to say goodbye to L'Abb? de Choisy. "Now of course, the current semester has already started, and Jesse is... how old?" "Thirteen. He'll be fourteen next month." "Yes. Well, he is a little older than we prefer to start out. We like our students to come here when they are no older than twelve, preferably. Still, no matter. He is still young enough to integrate well; we will simply have to make some allowances to get him caught up to the others. And of course, we'll keep you apprised of his progress at all times." "And visiting...?" Mrs. De Bont inquired. "We prefer that new students not receive visitors for at least the first six months after admission. It makes the integration in our little... community much less difficult. Now, do you have any questions? Is there perhaps any part of the facility that you would like to see?" "Um..." Mrs. De Bont hesitated, "There is the matter of this procedure that I believe you refer to as 'milking'?" "Ah yes," the other responded, smiling, "Perhaps it would be best if you read this handout we have prepared on the subject. It will explain all, I believe, to your satisfaction. You understand, we believe that it is important to draw off our initiates' masculine energy, in order to facilitate their conversion. The process of 'milking' does this, and also provides, how shall I say? encouragement, to accept their new role. Here is the handout." "Thank you. Now, perhaps you could show me around briefly?" "Certainement! If I may suggest, it might be best if you said your goodbyes to Jesse now. It is best to get it over with as soon as possible, so as not to lengthen unnecessarily the anxiety of, comment vous dites? La s?paration. We would like to get him started as soon as possible. There is much to do." "Well, if you think that's best..." They emerged into the outer office to find Jesse slumped in his seat; his eyes were red and puffy. When he saw his mother he stood and ran to her. "Mom!" he begged, "Please Mom, don't leave me here! I'll be good, I promise!" His mother's eyes moistened, but her voice remained firm. "I'm sorry Jesse, but my mind is made up. You've promised to be good many times in the past, and we know what came of it." She paused, then hugged her son, while he stood rigid and unresponsive, "Good bye," she whispered, "Be a good b... be good. I'll see you soon..." With a sob catching in her throat, she hurried from the room and disappeared. "Angelica," Mme. La Farge said to the receptionist, "I will be showing Mrs. De Bont around for a few minutes. Please call Miss Deverel and have her take Jesse down to Admissions." She turned to Jesse. "I leave you now in Miss Donovan's and Miss Deverel's capable hands. They will see to it you have everything you need, and begin your orientation. It was a pleasure meeting you, Jesse. I'm sure we'll be seeing much of each other in the coming months. Welcome to L'Abb? de Choisy Academy!" And with that, she followed Mrs. De Bont out the door. The receptionist picked up her phone and dialed a number. "Miss Deverel? Could you come to the office, please? We have a new student... Yes, that's right, Jesse De Bont. Thank you! "Wait just a moment," she said to Jesse after she hung up, "Someone will be here soon show you around and get you started." Jesse's heart pounded as he sat fearfully and waited. God! What's going to happen next? This is all so... so crazy! What the fuck am I doing here? he thought, horrified. All too soon, the door opened and Miss Deverel entered. She was tall, blonde and striking. Like the receptionist, she was wearing a revealing, short, low-cut dress and spike-heeled pumps. She smiled when she saw Jesse and extended a long-nailed hand. "Hello!" she said warmly, "My name is Miss Deverel. And you must be...?" Jesse ignored the outstretched hand and looked away. "Well," Miss Deverel continued, unperturbed, "I know you must be confused and a little frightened, but you really don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure you'll settle in just fine. But now, we have to get you going! You're a little behind the other first-years, so we'd better get started. Come with me, please." Jesse remained seated. "Come with me, please," Miss Derevel repeated, more firmly. Jesse remained motionless. "Jesse!" she said sharply, "I warn you, we do NOT tolerate disobedience here! I would strongly suggest you co-operate. I don't think you'd like the alternative. We do have corporal punishment here, you know!" Startled and a little frightened by her severity, Jesse found himself lurching to his feet. "That's better," Miss Deverel said, softening, "Now, come along. We have much to do." Jesse picked up his suitcase, but Miss Deverel said, "Oh, you can leave that here. You won't be needing it. We'll provide everything you need. Angelica, will you please dispose of it? Thank you!" As they walked down the corridor, Jesse looked around nervously. Periodically, groups of students would pass them in the halls, chatting and giggling amongst themselves. Some were wearing what appeared to be the school uniform, navy blazer, short skirt and white blouse, with high heeled Mary Janes and either knee highs or navy stockings. Others wore dresses, or skirts and blouses. All looked, to Jesse's eyes, like perfectly ordinary girls. His stomach crawled. "Here we are!" Miss Deverel said brightly, stopping before a door marked 'Nurse'. She opened it and entered; Jesse followed. An attractive young woman, wearing a nurse's uniform, rose from behind her desk to greet them. "Ah," she said, and like the headmistress she had a slight French accent, "This must be Jesse de Bont, no? Welcome! Very pleased to meet you. Now, Jesse, please remove your clothes." "What?" Jesse quavered. "Now!" the other said, sharply, "Remove your clothes, please. We have no time to waste. Do as you're told!" His heart beating rapidly, Jesse stripped to his underwear and stood, hunched over, hands clasped over his crotch. Miss Deverel picked up his clothes. "I'll just take these," she said, then turned to the nurse, "I will be back when you're finished here to take Jesse into Preparation, alright, Chantal?" For the next five minutes, Jesse was poked and prodded, weighed and measured, and given a series of injections. "Vitamins," the nurse explained, "And Premarin, of course. We must get you caught up to the others, yes?" She measured his chest, waist and hips, inseam, then sized his feet, writing all the measurements down on a long, multi-page chart. "Now, one final measurement," she said, briskly, "Pull down your shorts, please." "What?" "Do it now! I don't have time to waste on your modesty, Your shorts." Jesse pulled down his underwear. The nurse produced a ruler, and to Jesse's intense shock and humiliation, measured the length of his penis, writing this too down on her chart. "Bien!" she said, "We are done. Now Miss Deverel will take you to wardrobe. No, there is no need to put your shorts back on. You will not need them. Alors! Here is Miss Deverel now." Miss Deverel betrayed no surprise at seeing Jesse naked. She smiled and said, "Now that wasn't so bad, was it? Let's go next door and get your wardrobe sorted out." She picked up and perused the chart. "Ah, you appear to be about a size six, eight perhaps... 32, 27, 34... good... five foot four... feet size seven. Alright, let's get started. Follow me please." She led the way through an adjoining door. Jesse followed, then his heart flew to his mouth. He found himself in a large room, filled with rack upon rack of dresses, skirts, tops, jackets, blouses, girls' clothes of every kind. Racks of shoes lined the walls. Jesse's heart almost stopped. Chapter Two - Orientation "Now," Miss Deverel began, "Let's get you fitted. Gabrielle?" "Yes Miss?" Another young woman appeared from behind a rack, clutching several garments, with more laid over her arms. "We have a new student. Let's get him outfitted. The standard wardrobe, I think, will do nicely for now. Here are his measurements," she handed over the chart to the other, who studied it intently. "Very good!" She beamed, "I think we have everything we need, so let's get started!" She put down the garments she was carrying and said, "We'll start with undergarments, of course. Now, we usually get our new students a little younger, and start them with training bras, but everyone else of your age will have moved on by now, so we'll just get you the usual for your age group. Let's see, a 34B will do nicely, I think. She rummaged in a drawer for a few moments, then extracted several lacy bras and panties. The bras all had padded cups. "We'll start with these... You'll want other colors, of course... Put these on, please..." she handed him some panties. "Now!" she said sharply as he hesitated. With trembling hands he took the panties and stepped into them. They had some sort of pad at the crotch that pushed his penis between his legs, giving him a smooth appearance. Jesus! If anyone had told him half an hour ago that he'd be wearing panties before the day was out, he would probably have punched him. He felt blood rush to his face. "Now, hold out your arms." She wrapped the bra around him and fastened it behind his back. He felt tears prick at his eyes again. She pushed over a wheeled clothes rack that had a bin affixed to its base, and put several more bras and panties into it, neatly folded. "Garter belts," she continued, "We require all of our students to wear garter belts and stockings, not pantyhose... here are some stockings..." She busied herself adding to the growing pile in the bin. Several slips and half-slips went in next. "Good. Now, uniforms. Size six, I think..." she extracted three school uniforms from a storage locker and hung them on the rack, followed by several white blouses, some plain, some trimmed with lace. "You'll be required to wear your uniform for academic classes... Dresses, or skirts and tops... these you'll wear at all other times," she produced several, and hung them up, two or three shirtwaist dresses, several light summer dresses, a long-sleeved knit dress, a mid-calf length semi-formal dress, several skirts and blouses. Tops of various styles went into the bin. Jesse lost track of it all. "Now, nighties." She produced three diaphanous nighties, trimmed with lace, in pale pink, baby blue, and lavender. Finally, shoes. She pawed through the forest of shoes arranged in racks on the floor, and extracted about seven or eight pairs, Mary Janes, pumps, sandals, all with heels of at least three inches. "We'll worry about jewelry and makeup later," she said, businesslike, "after you've had some training. We do require all of our girls to shave their legs, of course... we'll arrange for a waxing some time in the next day or so. Although," she went on, examining his legs, "it doesn't look like you have much hair yet. Eyebrow shaping, too. We'll arrange that as well. And now..." she produced a gun-like device, and held it to one of his earlobes. He felt a sharp sting. Before he had time to react, she'd done the other one. He reached up, and felt two studs. She'd evidently just pierced his ears. "You'll get some instruction on how to care for your lobes... Please follow them to the letter. You don't want them to become infected," she went on. His mind began spinning; everything was happening so fast! "Your hair..." she mused, running her fingers through it, "Very nice, and it is well that it is already long. We won't have to worry about wigs while it grows. You'll get it styled, probably today or tomorrow, but eventually you'll be expected to style it yourself, of course." She fingered his chin speculatively. "You don't have any beard yet, but I think we'll begin electrolysis as soon as possible anyway. Better too soon than too late!" Jesse stood and shivered. He caught sight of himself in a three-way mirror, standing naked except for bra and panties, shoulders hunched, knees shaking. He bit his lip, determined not to cry. "Now, let's get you dressed," she began searching through the rack, "Please put this on..." she handed him a garter belt, which he took and stared at, perplexed. "Oh, let me help you," she took it from him and fastened it around his waist. Then she produced a pair of smoky grey stockings and rolled one of them up. "Lift your right leg, please... You can hold on to me for balance, if you like," Jesse lifted his leg obediently, his hand on her shoulder to steady himself. She slid the stocking up his leg. In spite of his general humiliation and embarrassment, he found himself thinking distractedly that the stockings, at least, actually felt rather nice, sort of smooth and slippery. She slipped the other one on him, then fastened them to his garter belt. "Now, what to wear? Here. I think this will do nicely for today..." and she extracted a pale blue cotton print dress with short puff sleeves from the rack and unzipped it. "Come on!" she said as he hesitated, staring wide-eyed at the garment as if it concealed a poisonous snake, "We haven't got all day!" Almost in a daze, he stepped into it. She pulled it up onto his shoulders and adjusted it, then zipped up the back. Finally, she selected a pair of mid-heeled Mary Janes and had him slip them on his feet and buckle them up. As he stood, he was acutely aware of a flood of unfamiliar sensations. He could feel air circulating around his legs, the hem of his dress brushed his thighs, the heels of his shoes forced him into an unfamiliar posture, he could feel the tightness of his bra around his chest, the weight of whatever was in the cups, the embrace of the garter belt, the constriction of his panties around his genitals. His knees shook. "Bien!" Miss Deverel said brightly as she looked him up and down, "You look very pretty, Jesse! You're going to make a lovely girl! Which reminds me. You need a new name. Jesse... that of course immediately suggests 'Jessica'... Yes, I think that will do nicely. Pleased to meet you, Jessica!" And with that, to his shock and horror, Jesse at last began to cry. Chapter Three - Jennifer "Now Jessica," Miss Deverel was saying as they walked together down a long corridor on the third floor of the residential wing of the huge building, "We do require our first and second years to share accommodation. The third and fourth years generally get rooms of their own. Since you're starting here a little late in the year, we've decided to pair you with a second year student who can help you with your studies and get you acclimatized to life here at the Academy. Her name is Jennifer, and I'm sure you'll get along famously! You'll like her; she's very nice, friendly, and doing very well at her studies. Yes, I think she'll be the perfect roommate! Here we are," she concluded, pausing before door. She unlocked it and held it open for Jesse, who had been pushing his clothes rack ahead of him, stumbling occasionally in his unaccustomed heels. He pushed his rack through the door and looked around. It was a large bed-chamber, tastefully decorated in a distinctly feminine style. Lace curtains hung on the large windows that overlooked the central quadrangle, but it was dominated by two large, canopied beds at opposite sides of the room. Each side of the room also had a large walk-in closet, ornate dressing tables with large oval mirrors, matching armoires; framed Degas prints of ballerinas and young women in ball gowns graced the walls. Jewelry boxes and Victorian mirror and brush sets sat atop each dressing table on large lace doilies. A folding cloth partition ran down the center of the room, separating the two sections. "Now I would like you to hang your clothes neatly in the closet, please. Your lingerie goes in your dresser drawers, neatly folded, your tops and blouses can go in the armoire." She stood expectantly, arms folded, and looked at Jesse. By now, he'd recovered from his crying jag and his embarrassment at having been made to cry fueled the return of some of his bravado. He shrugged and opened a drawer at random, then pulled a handful of clothes from the bin and threw them in. "Neatly folded!" Miss Deverel said sharply, "You will learn how to care for your clothes, but for now, they're already folded properly, and you must lay them neatly in the drawers as they are." He shot her a glare and continued tossing items into the drawer. "MISS DE BONT!" the other raised her voice, "You WILL obey! Need I remind you again that we use corporal punishment here on disobedient students?" Jesse glowered defiantly at her, but the dreaded words "corporal punishment" had their effect. Still fuming, he picked up the rest of his lingerie, and carefully placed them in the drawer. "Good," Said Miss Deverel approvingly, "Now, hang up your dresses in the closet." Grudgingly, he carried an armload of dresses from the rack to the closet and hung them. "Your shoes go on the shoe tree in the closet as well," she prompted. He complied. "Excellent. Now please wait here. Jennifer is probably at class, but she should be back soon, and she'll help you put away the rest of your things and help you get settled. I have other matters that require my attention. Your class schedule and study materials are on your night table, there. We'll worry about textbooks and so forth later. I'll be back to check in with you shortly." She smiled coolly at Jesse, and withdrew. He walked slowly over to the window and looked out. It was still raining; pools of water lay in the deserted quadrangle, its trees bare and forlorn. Then he went back to the dresser, opened the lingerie drawer, and angrily messed up its contents. --- He was sitting dejectedly on the edge of his bed when the door suddenly flew open and a teenaged girl (but no, it couldn't be a girl, could it?) darted in. "Hi!" she said in a rush, "you must be Jessica! I'm Jennifer! It's SO great to have a roommate finally! It's good to meet you at last! I just know we're going to be friends!" She held out her hand, which Jesse studiedly ignored. She looked at him closely. "I suppose you're still pissed off and scared, aren't you? I remember what it was like, honestly. Well, that's okay. It IS a little scary at first. And it's all so new and strange, isn't it? I understand. It'll get easier, I promise. You'll get used to it in no time." "I wouldn't count on it," retorted Jesse. He studied his new roommate carefully. It was impossible, as far as he could see, to tell that she wasn't really a girl. She was wearing the school uniform with a pretty, lacy white blouse, her hair pulled back with a scrunchie into a ponytail at the crown of her head. A string of pearls was visible at her neck, matching studs in her ears. She wore light makeup, eye shadow, mascara and pink lip gloss, her nails polished to match. And it wasn't just her clothing. Her mannerisms, gestures, body language, patterns of speech, even her voice, all were feminine to a fault. To break the silence, she giggled and kicked one of her feet up behind her briefly to display her shoes, which were tall, stiletto-heeled pumps similar to those worn by Mme. La Farge. "I was just practicing walking in these heels," she explained with a grin, "It's actually pretty easy, since I wear heels every day, but I want to wear some real HIGH ones like these to the prom, so I thought I'd better, well, practice... you know, to make sure I can dance in them." Jesse snorted. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. "You know," Jennifer said, a trifle peevishly, "We're going to be roommates at least for the rest of this semester, so we really should make the effort to get along, don't you think? And besides, Miss Deverel says you're behind the rest of us, so you're going to need my help to get caught up. It'll be easier on both of us if we try to be friends. I'm not the one who brought you here. It's not my fault, is it? There's no sense in taking it out on me." In spite of himself, Jesse saw the logic of this utterance, and relented. "Oh, alright," he said, somewhat mollified, "I guess if we're stuck together for a while we might as well make the most of it. But... Man! I can't believe you're really a boy. It's pretty weird. How long have you been here?" "This is my second year. I think I'm the same age as you. You're fourteen, right?" Jesse nodded. Close enough, he thought, fourteen in a few weeks. She smiled at him. "Do you think I make a pretty girl?" "Well... Yeah, I guess so. I mean, if I didn't know, I wouldn't be able to tell." Jennifer blushed and smiled, "Thank you!" "You take that as a compliment?" Jesse said incredulously. "Well sure!" she replied shyly, "I've been working really hard at it, and Miss Chalmers, she's my Deportment and Femininity prof, she says I'm doing really well!" Jesse shook his head. "Weird, man... So, did you always want to be a girl, or what?" "Oh no!" Jennifer said, wide eyed, "Oh, when I first came here I was way worse than you, I bet! I tried to run away a couple of times, and I was a terrible discipline problem. But, well... Now, I'm just so glad I decided to give in. I hate that I gave them so much trouble before... and now I realize that there's so much I missed out on by being so stubborn, so much fun! Honestly, I'm just having such a great time now! I can't wait for third year! There's Dating, and Advanced Fashion, and Advanced Esthetics and..." "Wait. Dating?" "Well sure!" Jennifer enthused, "It's all part of being a girl, isn't it? We study simply everything here!" Jesse sat down on the bed, his head spinning in a fresh direction. Dating. Holy shit! "Can I see your schedule?" Jennifer asked, sitting next to him. Jesse picked up a sheaf of papers from the night table and handed it to her. She leafed through it, then extracted a large green chart. "Here it is," she said, looking it over, "Ooooh! I see you have milking tomorrow morning! ...AND in the afternoon! Twice!" Her eyes twinkled, "Mmmm! Aren't you lucky!" "Milking? Just what the heck is that?" "Oh, you'll see," Jennifer said mischievously, "It's better if I don't give too much away. I wouldn't want to spoil it." "Well, whatever it is, I won't like it," Jesse said decisively. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure..." Jennifer twinkled. "So..." Jesse went on, changing the subject, "Are there at least, like, sports and stuff here?" "Well, we do have Phys. Ed." she replied, "There's tennis and badminton, and in the summer we have field hockey. There's ballet and ballroom dancing, and modern dance too. That's a new one. And gymnastics, you know, balance beam, floor routines, stuff like that." "Field hockey, huh? Well that's something. The rest of it sounds pretty lame, though. How about music or video games and, you know, FUN stuff?" "There's music appreciation as an elective, but they don't let us listen to music in our rooms. And video games are strictly forbidden. We do have computers, but they're not on the Internet or anything. Hey!" she went on, looking over at her alarm clock, "We ought to head down for dinner pretty soon." "I think I'll stay here, thanks." "You'd better not," Jennifer chided, "They don't feed you a whole lot here, you know, so we keep our figures. If you miss one meal, you'll be pretty hungry later." "I'll risk it." "Well, suit yourself." She got up and went to the door, "See you later!" Morosely, Jesse lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. What the hell was he going to do? Thoughts circled and swooped in his head until he was afraid he'd go crazy. That night, in spite of himself, his anger and exhaustion got the better of him, and softly, so Jennifer wouldn't hear, he cried himself to sleep. Chapter Four - Milking The following morning, Jesse awoke to the sound of a chime, soft but insistent, from some concealed speaker above his head. He heard Jennifer get up and stir about on her side of the room, then a few minutes later her head appeared around the partition. "Better get up, sleepyhead!" she grinned, "You missed dinner, you won't want to miss breakfast too! I'll help you with getting dressed, if you like." Then she was gone, and Jesse heard her bustling around. He saw her dart out the door carrying a small plastic case, probably heading for the communal bathroom across the hall. She was back in about five minutes and disappeared again to her side of the room. Presently, she appeared wearing her uniform, mid-heeled pumps on her feet, hair and makeup perfect. "Still in bed? Well, we're going to have to hurry now or we'll miss getting fed. Up you get!" And she flung back Jesse's covers. "I don't WANT to get up," Jesse sulked, pulling them back over him, "I'm not even hungry." "Come on! Please!" Jennifer pleaded, "You've got to get up some time, and it might as well be now. It's not that bad, really, and honestly, you don't want to miss milking. You need to get up, wash and get dressed, now!" "Goddamn it," Jesse muttered, flinging the covers back and sitting up, "Okay, I'm up. Happy?" "We've got to get you dressed; come on!" She grabbed Jesse's hand and pulled. Reluctantly, he got to his feet, and a flush of embarrassment crept over his face as he remembered he was naked, having refused the night before to wear a nightie. "Let's go. Grab your toothbrush and whatever else you need. I'll take you across the hall to the bathroom," Jennifer was insistent, "Better put something on, too," she finished wryly. With no other options available, Jesse was forced to put on a nightie, blushing furiously as he did so. They went into the bathroom, where a few late girls were brushing their teeth or fluffing their hair in the mirror. Jesse went into a stall. "Sit to pee!" Jennifer called, "It's the rule." Sighing, he sat, urinated, then emerged and washed his hands and face. As he did so, Jennifer pulled his hair back from his face and ran her fingers through it. "You have wonderful hair," she commented, "It's a pity we won't have time this morning to style it..." "Leave it alone," Jesse said shortly. Jennifer shrugged, "Okay, but you're going to have to get it styled sooner or later, and you might as well get used to people touching it. Now brush your teeth and let's get you dressed. Back in their room, Jennifer went through Jesse's closet. "Now, they like you to wear something short for milking, makes it easier... Here, this'll be perfect." She extracted a pretty, floral-print dress with a gathered, scooped neckline and short cap sleeves. "Let's get you into some lingerie first," she said, businesslike. She began rummaging about in Jesse's dresser. "My, this certainly isn't very tidy," she commented, "You could get in trouble for having such messy clothes... Here we are. These should do," and with that she extracted a lacy white bra, matching panties and garter belt, and tan stockings. Jesse hesitated, then decided that he might as well play ball for the time being, until he could scope things out and decide when best to make his move. Sighing, he held out his hand for the panties. Jennifer helped him into his bra and did up the clasp behind his back, then wrapped his garter belt around his waist, did it up, and helped him unroll the stockings up his legs. As before, he couldn't help thinking that the stockings, at any rate, felt kind of nice. "You have to be really careful with stockings, you know, or they'll run. You can always get more from the wardrobe mistress, of course... Good!" she smiled, "Now..." she picked up the dress and held it for him. He stepped into it and she zipped it up. "I think these shoes will look darling with that dress..." she commented, holding up a pair of mid-heeled pumps like hers. Making a face at Jennifer's use of the word 'darling', Jesse slipped into them. "Now, we really have to get down for breakfast, but I know they're going to want to see you in makeup for your milking, even though you haven't had any cosmetics lessons yet, so just let me do your face a little..." "Fine," Jesse mumbled. She pulled a few sundries out of her purse and began on his face, brushing on a little blush, stroking some silvery-grey eye shadow on his lids, applying mascara, then finishing with some strawberry lip gloss. "There!" she said happily, "You look amazing! You have such nice features! Of course, after your first class in cosmetics you'll get your own things, and of course your eyebrows need a little shaping... and nails, well, no time to do anything about them for now..." She glanced at the bedside clock, "Oh gosh! Let's go! We'll have to run," and so saying she grabbed Jesse's hand. Shrugging, Jesse allowed himself to be led from the room and together they ran down the hall toward the main stairs. He decided that he WAS hungry, after all, having missed last night's meal. The unaccustomed height of his heels made him stumble a few times, but he managed to keep up. The cafeteria was much like he expected, full of noisy, giggling and gossiping girls... Girls? He thought. Not exactly. But then he caught sight of himself in one of the many full-length mirrors scattered about the walls of the institution, and started. For a few moments, he couldn't even pick himself out from the cluster of girls reflected back at him. My God, he thought. I look exactly like them! Not exactly, perhaps. His posture was hunched with lingering embarrassment, and he did not walk as gracefully in his heels as the others. His hair hung limp and lifeless, while the others all had beautifully styled coifs. But there was, in his reflection, promise of much better things to come... Shit... His heart skipped several beats. Jesse ate most of his meal in silence, while several simultaneous conversations flew around him. Much of the talk seemed focused on fashion, clothes, cosmetics, once he even suspected he caught a reference to 'boys'.... He decided to be civil, at least for the time being, and answered questions when asked, but volunteered no information. "So," asked one pretty young thing sitting opposite him, "How long have you been here?" "Less than twenty four hours," he replied, grimacing. "I thought so," she grinned, "You have that look. Well, don't worry. It's not as bad as it seems. Have you been..." "Not yet," Jennifer supplied, "This morning's her first." "Ooooh! Lucky her!" Jesse scowled at their use of the feminine pronoun, but decided not to make an issue of it. Probably force of habit, he thought. Breakfast over, Jesse and Jennifer headed back to the main corridor together. He'd already decided to treat her as a provisional ally, at least for now. Better that than be totally alone, he figured. "Let's see your schedule again," she said, taking it from him, "Okay, follow me." They walked down a side corridor and stopped in front of a door that, unlike most of the others, was unmarked. "Here you are!" said Jennifer, "See you later. Have fun!" she finished brightly. With trepidation, Jesse put his hand on the knob and opened the door. It was a small, softly lit room with a couple of comfortable-looking sofas and chairs, a dressing table, desk, and in one corner, a huge three-way mirror. A woman, seated at the desk, rose to greet him. "Hello," she said warmly, "You must be Jessica! Welcome. My name is Miss Sasha. I'm sure we're going to be good friends, and I just know you'll come to look forward to our little visits." She was tall, blonde and attractive, perhaps thirty, with large breasts that strained against the fabric of her black dress. She smiled and extended her well-manicured hand to him. He shook it diffidently, not sure what to expect. Unexpectedly shy in her presence, he swallowed a retort at her use of his feminine name. "Please, sit down," she smiled, gesturing at the sofa. He sat. "You should smooth the back of your dress as you sit," she said, demonstrating, "to prevent wrinkling." He didn't respond. "Now, Jessica," she continued, "tell me a little about yourself." "What's to tell?" he retorted, "My mom dumped me here, and I hate it." "Well Jessica," the other replied, untroubled, "I daresay you may change your mind. I believe this is your first milking?" "I guess." "Well, come over to the mirror then, Jessica, and we'll get started. We can get better acquainted later. There's plenty of time." He hesitated. "What's going to happen?" "Nothing bad, I promise you," she replied in her low, mellifluous voice, "Come." He walked over to the mirror and stood before it. She came up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Now Jessica," she said into his ear, and he caught a whiff of her perfume, "Lift up the skirt of your dress, please." "What?" "Lift up your dress," she repeated, "Here, let me help you." She reached down and pulled the hem at the front of his dress up to his waist. "Now, pull down your panties." "What?" he said again. "Come on, Jessica," she said a bit more sharply, "Please obey me. Pull down your panties." Hesitantly, he reached down and pulled his panties down as far as his garters would permit. "Good!" she cooed in his ear, "Now..." She put her arms around him and, reaching down, gently grasped his penis. Her hand seemed to have some sort of oil or lubrication on it. It felt warm and slippery, and he felt himself begin to harden almost immediately. He was acutely aware of her breasts pressing against his bare arm and shoulder, the intoxicating scent of her perfume in his nostrils. His heart beat rapidly. Oh God! She was touching his thing! She began to move her hand, ever so slowly. "What do you see in the mirror, Jessica?" she whispered. He gulped and didn't answer. "What do you see?" she repeated, blowing softly in his ear. "Uhh... I see me... And you... Unhh...." He moaned involuntarily. "Do you see a pretty girl?" asked Miss Sasha softly. "Um..." Her hand stopped, still gripping his tip. "Do you see a pretty girl, Jessica?" Confused, he didn't answer immediately. His knees began trembling. He stared at his reflection in a daze. "Would you like me to stop?" she whispered, "Tell me, do you see a pretty girl in the mirror?" "Yes..." It burst out of him almost without conscious thought. "Goooood..." she cooed, her hand moving rhythmically again, "Very good. Now, is the pretty girl wearing a pretty dress?" "Unnnggghhh..." he groaned. He was shaking all over now; his knees felt like they might buckle. His heart pounded. Her hand stopped again, poised. "Is she wearing a pretty dress?" "Yessssss..." he hissed, his hips moving involuntarily, "Yes." "Good!" she said softly, smiling, "Do you like being a pretty girl?" He was silent, all of his attention focused on the slowly moving hand... which stopped yet again. "Do you? Do you like being a pretty girl?" "Uh, yeah..." he mumbled. "Say it, Jessica," she whispered directly into his ear, her breasts pressing against his bear arm, "Say that you like being a pretty girl in a pretty dress." Her hand moved slowly, langorously. He gulped. "Come on, Jessica. It's alright. Say it..." "Oooh. Oh yes, Miss Sasha," he croaked, "I like being a pretty girl!" His knees began to give out. "I'm... I'm going to squirt," he whispered. "Not quite yet, dear," she murmured, "First, tell me that you LOVE being a pretty girl, and wearing pretty dresses..." "Oh G-God..." "Say it," she whispered, "Say it and I'll keep going..." "Ooh, I love being a pretty girl and wearing pretty dresses!" he cried. His knees gave out, and he might have fallen, but for Miss Sasha's arms around him. "Good girl. Now, say it again..." "Oh God...." "Once more..." "Ooooh... Oh God!" he cried out, "I love being a pretty girl! I love wearing pretty dresses!" "Good, Jessica," she said softly, "Very, very good," and with that, her hand began to work faster and faster. "Ooohhhh! Oh.... Ohhh!" Jesse's hips worked spasmodically, and suddenly a jet of semen erupted from his tip, shooting out and splashing onto the mirror. He spurted again and again, groaning loudly with each thrust of his hips. His come hit the mirror several times, and splashed in a gooey trail on the floor in front of him. As he quieted, she gently squeezed the last drops from his cock, then reached for a box of tissues and dabbed up the errant droplets that still clung to its tip. Then, she gently pulled up his panties and adjusted his dress, and handed him the tissues. "That was very good, Jessica," she said, smiling and stroking his cheek, "You did very well for your first time. Now, if you would please clean up your mess..." Almost in a daze, he knelt down and mopped up the spots of his issue. "Thank you, Jessica," Miss Sasha said, "Now; I believe you have a class to get to?" Chapter Five - Brianna Jesse left Miss Sasha's room and walked down the hall still in a daze. She'd made him spurt! He pondered the admissions she'd made him utter, admissions that, as far as he was concerned were totally false, but any irritation he felt was submerged beneath a smug feeling of well-being; he could hardly keep a smirk off his face. She'd made him come! And WHAT a come. Prior to this he'd had the occasional wet dream, and just recently he'd finally managed to masturbate a few times to orgasm, but the pleasure he'd felt on those occasions was a mere tickle of a feather compared to the earth-shaking, mind-blowing explosion of ecstasy he'd felt at the skilled hands of Miss Sasha. She'd kept him hovering on the brink for so long he was afraid he was going to pass out. It was... it was unbelievable. And there was another one on his schedule this afternoon! The mere thought was enough to cause stirrings between his legs. But now, where the hell was he supposed to be? He scrutinized his schedule and tried to interpret the floor-plan attached to it. The next thing on the chart was something called Beginning Esthetics, whatever that was. It didn't occur to him to play hooky. He followed the map as best he could, but in spite of his best efforts he was soon hopelessly lost. He entered one classroom thinking it might be the correct one, and walked in on a group of older students, third- years, perhaps, dressed in lingerie, busily lacing each other into satin and lace corsets. They giggled when they saw him, and he beat a hasty retreat. In doing so, he bumped into another girl who was at that moment just passing by. "Oh!" she cried in pretty confusion, "Oh, I'm so sorry!" "My fault," said Jesse, apologetically, then looked the other up and down. She was stunningly beautiful, tall, with long honey blonde hair, beautiful large blue eyes with long lashes, her long slender legs beneath her short uniform skirt accentuated by the strappy heels she wore. She had large silver hoops in her ears, a silver charm bracelet on her right wrist, and tastefully applied makeup. "Oh no!" she giggled -- it was difficult for Jesse to think of her as anything other than 'she', "I wasn't looking where I was going," she studied his face intently, "Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you around before." "Yeah," replied Jesse, "I'm new to this loony bin. Say, you wouldn't know where room 221 is?" "Why sure! I'll show you," she started off down the hall. "My name's Brianna," she went on, "What's yours?" "Jesse," he replied. "I bet they want you to be Jessica, right?" Brianna smiled. "That's what they say, yeah. But I'll be damned if I'll answer to it." "I remember my first few days here," she went on chattily, "Oh, I just hated it! I was so dumb! I love it here now. I'm having so much fun!" "Fun?" Jesse echoed in disbelief. "Oh yeah! It's great. I'm in second year, now. And we're learning so many cool things. It's amazing. I just love being a pretty girl and wearing pretty dresses!" Jesse glanced sharply at her. That last sentence was eerily familiar. "Really?" he said after a moment. "Oh yes. Very much. I would hate to have to go back to being a boy again. Just hate it! Well, here we are." She stopped in front of a door marked 221. "Say, want to sit together at lunch?" "I dunno..." he shrugged, "Well, okay." "Great! See you then!" and she was off, her heels clicking on the marble floor. Jesse briefly considered just going back to his room to hide. But, well, his first experience of Academy curriculum had actually been quite pleasurable. More than pleasurable, really. More like, fantastic. He put his hand on the door knob, breathed deeply, and pushed the door open. The room beyond looked rather like the dressing room of a theater. Lighted mirrors lined the walls, beneath which were dressing tables littered with cosmetics, brushes, pieces of jewelry, bottles of perfume. It was empty but for a lone woman seated at one of the tables. She rose and approached when she saw him. "Good morning!" she said pleasantly, "You must be Jessica. I'm Miss De Vries, one of the Esthetics instructors here. How do you do?" Jesse didn't say anything. "Jessica," Miss De Vries said sternly, "we do require proper courtesy and good manners from our students. You WILL behave, and speak with civility and deference. Now. Good morning, Jessica. How do you do?" "Fine," Jesse muttered, "Just fine." "Good. Now Jessica, I've booked a private lesson for you today because you need to get caught up to the rest of your classmates. I've asked your roommate Jennifer to join us because I thought it would be more enjoyable for you if there was another student here as well. Jennifer is doing very well in Esthetics, so she'll be able to help you when you need it." "Whatever." Just then the door opened and Jennifer entered. "Good morning, Miss De Vries," she said politely, "Hi Jessica!" she grinned at him. "Uh, hi." "Now, Jessica," Miss De Vries began, "The first thing we're going to do is figure out what colors are going to work best for you, then we'll start with some cosmetics techniques for different looks, and we'll end with some practice applying your makeup, trying out different styles. You'll have to get up to speed quickly, because the others in your class have been doing their own makeup for several weeks now." Jesse nodded. He'd already decided to cooperate, for now. He was formulating a plan. "Good! Now, let's get started." The next hour was a busy one. Miss De Vries started by analyzing his skin with a magnifying glass, then selected a number of different cosmetics from her large supply, giving him bottles of lotions, foundation, several eye shadows, mascara, eye liner, lipsticks, lip pencils and lip glosses, blushes, eyebrow pencils, and finishing with several bottles of nail polish and a bottle of top coat. Then, with Jennifer's enthusiastic assistance, she began showing him how to apply it all, starting with foundation. "Now, you young girls still have beautiful unblemished skin, so you don't need much coverage, just enough to give your skin a healthy glow," she said as she worked, "Blush, of course... Just a little, like this. Blow on the brush before you stroke it on... Here, you do it. Brush upwards across the cheekbones in a 'C' shape. That's right. Good! Very nice. Now, eye shadow..." Wielding tweezers, she plucked his eyebrows into graceful arches, then showed him how to make his eyes look larger and his eyelashes longer and darker with mascara. They finished with a pale pink frosted lipstick and gloss. "Wow!" Jennifer enthused, "Jessica, you look wonderful!" Jesse looked at himself in the mirror. My God, he thought, I hardly recognize myself. Holy cow. I do look... well, pretty. He shook himself. Pretty! He didn't WANT to look pretty, damn it! "Now," Miss De Vries went on, "let's do a quick lesson in nail care, and then we'll call it a day. You've had a lot to absorb in a short time. But we'll have more lessons later, and soon it'll be second nature. And of course Jennifer can help you if you need it. Now, nails..." His nails were rather ragged, but under her care they were reshaped into feminine ovals, and polished a frosted pink that matched his lipstick. "Alright Jessica, you've done very well. We'll have another lesson tomorrow. In the mean time, I want you to practice this afternoon when you have a free period. Get Jennifer to help you." "She's got another milking this afternoon, Miss De Vries," Jennifer supplied. "Well, I'm sure she'll have some time after that, Jennifer, so please help her work on her makeup, alright?" "I'd love to!" she replied cheerfully, "It'll be fun, won't it Jessica?" "Yeah, sure. Fun." "Well then, I think it's almost lunchtime. Off you go now!" "You do look really nice," Jennifer said as they walked down the hall to the cafeteria. "Thanks," said Jesse dryly, "Just what I wanted." "You might as well get used to it," the other said airily, "Everyone does." "Uh huh. Sure." Brianna spotted them and ran up. "Hey, you two! Wow, Jessica, you look wonderful!" "Uh, thanks." "Hi Brianna," Jessica said. "You wanna all sit together?" "Sure. Let's." They picked up salads from the counter. "Is that it?" complained Jesse, "I'm starving. I want something more than rabbit food." "This is it for lunch, usually," said Jennifer, "You'll get used to it. The big meal's at dinner. You can pick up a Jell-O or something if you're still hungry, I guess." "IF I'm still hungry? Jeez..." They sat together and Jesse listened while the other two chatted and gossiped. Talk, to Jesse's disgust, centered mostly on clothes, shoes, makeup, and fashion in general. He didn't have much to add. "So. 'Brianna'," he said, changing the subject, "I guess that means your real name is Brian, right?" "Nope," she replied, "My real name is Brianna. My OLD real name was Brian." "You mean Brianna is your legal name? Like, if you got a drivers license it would say..." "Brianna. That's right. They can change legal names, somehow. Not everybody does it, of course, but I decided to. I don't see myself going back to Brian after I leave." "You're kidding." "Oh no!" she said, wide-eyed, "I would HATE to have to go back to being a boy. I'd rather die." "Y