The Prom Queen: A Story About A Lovely Boy -- Part 2 free porn video

The Prom Queen: A Story of a Lovely Boy - Part Two (Copyright 2005 by K-G Communications) By Katherine Day The more Corey looked in the mirror the more he felt he was looking at a girl, and not at himself, but at a very pretty and feminine girl. He found great excitement welling up within, becoming woozy and light- headed with a strange anticipation. His mood was confused. He was also embarrassed: he was a boy; yet, here he was a beautiful girl. Boys were supposed to have hard stomachs, broad shoulders and firm chests, and he was soft, slender of shoulders and with budding breasts on his smooth chest. He was a sissy, as some had called him, and now his best friend wanted him to masquerade as a girl. Was Mark just playing a joke on him? Was he laughing at him for being such a girly boy? No, he reasoned, Mark wouldn't have done that, and besides his sister, Lynn, was encouraging him to dress as well. And, she was treating him with respect as he ventured into girlhood. Both Mark and his sister were encouraging Corey (the girl) with enthusiasm and genuine support. Throughout his childhood, Corey had always been comfortable with Mark and Lynn; they seemed to really like him, and therefore would not be encouraging him to so something that would hurt him. Mark had played and been a friend to Corey, even though they were so different in their outward bodies and abilities. Mark had confessed in their long chats in Mark's attic room about the fact that he came from a working class family and felt awkward in chumming around with many of the other kids with cars and winter skiing vacations in Vail. "You're twice as good as they are," Corey would remind Mark. (And, Mark was "good", in that his grades were high and he was such a sports star.) And Corey would admire Mark's physique, and lament his own physical weaknesses, his inability to hit a pitched baseball, but Mark would reply, "Don't let that bother you! You're fun." After that first Saturday meeting, Lynn had given Corey a selection clothes to take home with him, and scheduled a time next week after school to help him dress again. "And, if you can," she urged Corey, "Put these things on as often as you can so you get used to them." He thanked Lynn. "But, I'm not sure I want to do this. I have enough trouble at school 'cause I don't quite fit in. I'm a bit embarrassed by all this, but thanks for your time." "Oh, Corey, I won't force you to do this," she answered. "But, you really might have lots of fun and you might get a new look at yourself." "But, I'm a boy," he protested. "If I go out like this, everyone will think I'm queer." "No darling," Lynn protested. "I think they'll see a boy who has the guts to stand up to all the nasty boys." Lynn put her arm around his narrow shoulders. "No darling, they'll be in awe when they see what a beauty you are. You'll be a star, a hit." And Corey realized that Lynn might be right. As a boy, he was a flop, a laughingstock, but as a girl, he might be something special. "Well, I guess, I'll have to be the prettiest girl in the school," he smiled. He hid the tote bag containing the clothes in his closet; he thought it would be safe there, since his mother rarely entered his room. And, he'd warn his sisters to stay out of his room, under penalty of "death." "You're my next neighbor and we grew up as girls together," Lynn told Corey when they next got together. She had dressed Corey into a pair of girl's jeans and a pink sweatshirt that said "G.U.E.S.S." and sandals, and announced: "We're going shopping... as two girl neighbors." "Oh no," Corey protested. "I'm not ready for this." "Oh yes, you are," she said. "You're my darling Corey, and you're very cute today." Lynn brushed his flowing blonde hair, fixing it into a bob. "Now, watch me as I put on my lipstick," she said. She gave him another lipstick, a moderate red in tone, and said, "Watch how I put it on and then you do the same." Corey watched, and even before she had finished, began applying the color to his lips, with a swift, knowing skill. He enjoyed the view as he put on the lipstick. "Corey, you look like you've done this before." He blushed, and admitted to have watched his mother put on lipstick, and in recent months he had also been putting on her panties and slips when he was alone. "Yes, I've been secretly doing this for some time now, since coach called me a 'girl'." Lynn smiled, "Now it's time to live out your girlhood desires. So let's you and I have some fun shopping today, just like two girl friends." "Where are we going?" he asked. "Let's not go where we'll meet anybody we know. I'm not really ready for this, Lynn." His heart was jumping as Lynn adjusted the girl's baseball cap she had given him, a pinkish number. She tucked his long brown hair through the hole at the back of the cap, tying the outside strands with a light blue ribbon. "And, just for good measure, let's do this for you," she said, lifting up the sweatshirt and sticking foam falsies into the bra he was wearing. They were small sized falsies and just slightly accentuated his breasts, befitting the slender girl he was supposed to emulate. "Now let's see, you walk for me," she said. He had been practicing, holding his back more erect, sticking his breasts out and taking shorter steps, causing his hips to swing. He walked across the room, trying not to exaggerate the walk, which would be a give away. "Oh darling," Lynn said. "What a girl! You've done great." And Corey blushed. "Now let me hear you speak." Corey didn't do so well here, going into a falsetto that was obviously fake, then drifting into a soft, low voice that was obviously too thin. Finally, she settled on speaking softly and low, accentuating certain words as a girl would. He also practiced listening to girls speak in school, so he had practiced on saying those phrases. "I'm afraid my girl-speak isn't so good," he confessed. "That's the hardest to learn. But, I'll introduced you as my neighbor friend, as a younger girl friend, and you just speak in a low, soft voice and let me do most of the talking, OK?" Lynn decided to go to the Pinecrest Mall across town. There was little chance they'd meet anyone they'd know there. "Now remember," Lynn said entering the mall. "We're just two girl friends out shopping. We'll giggle a bit and just have fun." They wandered into the sports wear department, and as they paused before full length mirror, Corey saw the two of them framed perfectly as two pretty girls who indeed could be cousins. Instinctively, Corey grabbed Lynn's hand and told her to look also, smiling and saying, "This is so much fun. You've made me so happy. It feels so good to be a girl. Just like it's who I really am!" And Lynn leaned over and gave a quick, girly kiss, the kind two girl friends would share. Immediately, Corey's doubt took over him, "But, I'm a boy." "Today, for now, just enjoy being a girl," Lynn responded, squeezing his hand affectionately. They tried on lots of clothes, and Corey soon was entering the women's fitting room with ease, finally settling on a short, flowered peach and blue flowing skirt and a pink sleeveless blouse. "Darling, you look exquisite in that," said the middle-aged grey clerk, a tall, slender woman with obvious class. "Me?" Corey said softly with surprise, finally realizing the clerk was addressed him as girl. "Yes, you have such lovely arms and legs, darling, you should show them as much as possible." Corey blushed slightly, and Lynn standing nearby burst into a big smile, and said to the clerk: "She is a lovely girl, isn't she? I've been telling her to run for prom queen in her high school, but she's shy." The clerk nodded, "She'd be hard to beat." Corey couldn't believe what he was hearing and he was seething inside at Lynn's remarks about making him prom queen. This becoming a girl was coming all too fast. The clerk walked away, leaving the two to consider whether to buy the outfit when all of a sudden a young man's voice interrupted them. "Lynn! What you doing on this side of town?" And Corey turned to see two young men and a young woman, obviously college students. "Oh, Jason, just shopping with a neighbor friend here," she recovered quickly. "Jason is in my psych class with me," Lynn explained to Corey. Jason introduced the young woman as his 'girl' friend, Lacey, also a college student, and the other young man as Dennis, also a college friend. Dennis took an immediate interest in Corey, standing there in his skirt and sleeveless blouse, his long hair tacked back through the baseball cap. Dennis was about six feet tall, slender, but obviously wiry and athletic like a runner or basketball player. "What's your friend's name, Lynn," Jason asked. "Heather," Corey said quickly, before Lynn could answer. "That's sweet," said Lacey. "I love that name," added Dennis. And Lynne scowled at Corey, and added quickly "Heather... err, Heather and I are shopping." She paused a moment, then as if to avenge Corey's sudden action to choose a new name, she added, with a mischievous twinkle, "Heather's going to run for prom queen. She's a junior at Carney High." "She looks like a winner," said Jason. Corey was getting upset. This "prom queen" stuff was going too fast, and Lynn was having fun spurring this on. Perhaps she mentioned it in retaliation for Corey introducing himself as "Heather". He was feeling he was on display for Lynn and her friends, and she could see the clerk talking to another clerk and pointing in their direction. Both clerks were smiling and looking at Corey, nodding as if to say, "Go Girl. Win prom queen." He was feeling a bit embarrassed by all the attention, but he was also exhilarated by it. And, he realized, that as a girl he was knockout, and something special. And, he was beginning to like the idea. Lynn chatted a bit with her friends, while Corey modeled himself before the mirror, admiring his own femininity. Soon Dennis was at his side, saying, "Heather, I'm Dennis Ostrander. I'm at the 'U' and a freshman there." "Nice meeting you," Corey said, in a low voice. "Sorry, don't mean to intrude, but you are so pretty." "Thank you, you seem nice yourself." "You have a cold? Or, Laryngitis?" "Yes, a bit, and I have a low voice, too." "I'd like to meet you again," Dennis said. "Would you like that?" Lynn saw what was going on, and said quickly, "Cor.... Heather.... is. .. ah .... dating my brother." And Corey breathed a sigh of relief, and seeing the disappointment on the boy's face, he said, "Oh, you're sweet. It would be nice meeting you again sometime." What was he doing? Flirting, like a teenage girl? Yes, indeed, he was. Lynn decided it was best to breakup the group, saying they had to get going. As they left, Dennis shook Corey's hand, depositing a piece of paper in his hand, saying almost too passionately, "It was soooo nice meeting you, Heather." The paper contained Dennis' name and his phone number. Corey decided he would not throw the paper away. "What's this 'Heather' business?" Lynn asked, somewhat sharply. "It just popped into my head," Corey said. "It's a better name for a girl, don't you think?" And, Lynn smiled. It was clear Corey was indeed becoming a lovely girl. They bought the skirt and blouse and the grey-haired, tall clerk smiled brightly as she checked them out. "Darling," she said to Corey. "You'd be my choice as prom queen. You're lovely, dear." Lynn and Corey (now fashioning himself as "Heather") left the mall, and Corey knew he was on a nonreversible trip to seeking to become the loveliest prom queen in the history of Carney High School. Corey felt a new joy and almost pranced with glee as he and Lynn left the mall. He was enjoying being "Heather", turning to Lynn to say: "Oh, I'm feeling so good. Don't you think Heather's a lovely girl? And I love you so much for making me pretty." And Corey giggled. Lynn said firmly, "You're Corey and you're going to stay Corey. That's your name at Carney, and you're going to be running as prom queen as a boy who will be prettier than all the girls." The election to prom queen was conducted within the Junior Class; the candidates had to be nominated by a member of the football team; they and their nominator had traditionally campaigned for the job, putting up posters and holding after-school parties. While it was a popularity contest, the candidates had to compete at a Junior Class rally one week before the event, wearing a formal dress, giving a speech and displaying some form of talent. "Are we seriously going to do this?" Corey asked. "I'd just like to be with you Lynn, pretending I'm your girl friend. That would be so much fun." "Corey, dear girl, I'm in college and I work, so we can't spend too much time at this. I like you very much Corey and I've had a ball today. Remember, we're doing this to help Mark." Corey nodded his approval, but deep down he was becoming most affectionate with Lynn. Never had he felt more comfortable with a girl. Corey had had no dates in high school, recognizing that he came from the "wrong side of the tracks", was viewed as a sissy by some in school, and was shy with girls. But, with Lynn, where no romantic relationship was asked, he was comfortable. Then, he realized that he was comfortable because their relationship was girl-to-girl. Yet, he yearned to hug and kiss Lynn. Meanwhile, Mark was pleased when they returned home and Corey modeled his new outfit. "You're so believable," he said, astonished as the pretty girl he saw standing before him. "Yes," Lynn said, "And I had to say that Heather was your steady to some guy who was hitting on her." "Heather?" Mark asked. Corey twirled, ending in a sweet, little girl posture, hands folded coyly at his chin. "Me," he said, softly in his faux feminine voice. "She thinks it's a prettier name for a girl than Corey," Lynn said, using the feminine 'she' to refer to Corey for the first time. "Who was hitting on her?" Mark asked also using the female term. "A guy named Dennis, from my school. I didn't know him, but he was there with two others I know. And, I thought Dennis was kind of cute myself." Corey didn't tell them that Dennis had slipped his phone number to him and that he had saved it. "Heather, I like that. A great name for my girl friend, right?" Mark ended. "And she's a flirt, too," his sister added. "They came upon us while Heather was trying on this skirt and blouse, and she really turned it on for Dennis." Mark came to Corey and held him firmly on his soft biceps and said, "Heather. Honey, you're mine now and I want no more of this flirting." Corey again twirled, swinging his hair and billowing the skirt and said, "Only for you, my dear Mark." They all three laughed. It was time for Corey to quit being Heather and to return to being a boy and go home. Whenever he could, Corey practiced being a girl, walking as a girl walks, sitting down and getting up, folding his legs and holding his arms. He even practiced sitting on the commode to urinate, as a girl would, since he would be using women's restrooms when he was dressed as a girl. He practiced speaking into a tape recorder and seeking to make his voice more feminine; the more he did it, the more he felt he succeeded. To get in the mood, he would put on panties, a bra, and a camisole, while tying his hair in a ribbon and putting on lipstick and eyeliner. He admired himself in the mirror, realizing as he had done so often recently that his slender, soft, unmuscular body made him a most attractive girl. "Why," he asked himself aloud one day, "was I born a boy?" Since his sisters attended late shift school hours, and Corey had the early shift, he had about two hours to himself before they got home from school and his mother home from work. During that time, he would do his homework and prepare dinner, a chore he had taken on when he was 13 and had become quite proficient. It was during this period that he could practice being Corey the girl. He would sometimes add a skirt and blouse or summer dress from among the clothes he borrowed from Lynn to the feminine underthings, and act like a housewife. He enjoyed that. He was wearing a pink summer dress, his pretty arms and shoulders exposed one Thursday afternoon, and admiring himself in the mirror, when suddenly he heard the backdoor open. Were the kids home from school already? Had he lost track of time in his reverie? Or, horrors, was it his mother home from work early? "Oh lord," he heard his mother's voice. "What's this?" She stood there, her plain graying brown hair lying straight against her unstylish clothes. At first, she was uncomprehending. "Corey, where are you? Who's this girl? You weren't supposed to have any girls here while I'm.... Oh my God.... Oh, no! .. Corey, this is you!" Corey stood there, too afraid to move, to say anything. "I thought you were a girl. My God... you look like a girl... but... but... you're my son." And she started to cry. "Oh what have I done to you? Corey, Corey, Corey. What have I done to you?" Corey couldn't stand to see his mother cry, to take the blame for something that was bringing him so much joy. He went to her and wrapped his arms about her and said, "Mom, mom. I'm sorry. Mom, mom, don't' blame yourself." They held each other tightly. Finally, his mother said, "Corey, it's been so hard to raise three children alone, and you've been so good to me, caring for the girls and even making dinner." "Mom, I enjoy that." "But you've missed out being a boy." "Mom, I hate to tell you this, but I like being a girl. I like dressing up. I feel more like myself as a girl." "Oh darling, I don't know. You're my son, my only son." Corey explained then to his mother how his becoming a girl began, how Mark wanted him to be prom queen and how Lynn had helped him learn how to dress. "You're not serious about this prom queen business, I hope," his mother said. "I guess it's OK if you want to dress like a girl in the house, but not out in public." His mother continued, "Oh I wish you could have had a father around, to play baseball with or football. You never were any good at sports, but that's ok." "Oh mom, I think all this started in gym class. Coach called me a 'girl' when I couldn't do the rope climb. And, I felt so bad, but Mark came to my support. He's such a good friend." "Who's that coach? I'll talk to him. He's got no right to call you that. You were trying, weren't you?" "Oh, don't go to coach. That'll just make things worse. Some of the kids call me 'Mary' now; that's nick for a fag kid like me." "Corey, you're no fag. Damn that coach, and the other kids." "And mom, I was trying to do the rope climb, with all my might, but I couldn't do it. I'm weak like a girl." "Oh, don't say that. I'll find the money and you can join the 'Y' and strengthen those arms. You're a boy, for God's sake." "But Mark asked me to run for prom queen, and he's such a good friend, and he speaks up for me." "No way," his mother interjected. "And you see how I look. Lynn thinks I could win," Corey finished. Finally his mother said, "Get out of those things and become my son, Corey, again. OK?" "Sure mom, I love you." "I came home early to tell you I've got a promotion. Let's take the girls out tonight for pizza at the organ place and celebrate." He kissed him mother and went to change his clothes, walking away from her with his practiced girlish stride. "You do make a pretty girl, I must admit," she said almost under her breath, as if speaking to herself. Corey smiled since he heard her voice, strangely speaking in pride about her son, who is soon to become her daughter at least for one night. So far, the only persons who knew of Corey's venture into girlhood were Mark, Lynn and his own mother. Thus far, Corey has been exhilarated by the prospect of being a girl. He felt at times that he really was a girl; it was a strange out of reality experience. These were only his private feelings, his own fantasies which he could enjoy without any fear of any consequences since no one else would know. He enjoyed the shopping outing with Lynn, and was pleased that no one suspected he was anything but a teenage girl. Soon, he would have to be presenting himself in front of people who knew him, his classmates, his sisters, his neighbors and relatives. What would their reaction be, he worried? For the next several weeks, through the Christmas vacation season, Corey kept his dressing and girl practice sessions to himself. He was finding himself walking more and more naturally with a feminine swing of his hips and shorter steps. His voice was softening, too, as he continued to practice, but at first no one seemed to notice. His mother was busy with Christmas preparations and the work that went into assuming her high level supervisory position. It was a great promotion for her, but it was full of tension, supervising a staff of some 90 workers. Thus, by the time she was home at night, she was pleased to find Corey had supper prepared for the family. The topic of Corey dressing as a girl did not some up for discussion and Corey kept that to himself. During the holidays, Corey and Lynn again went shopping, this time with Mark. Both Corey and Lynn dressed up for the occasion, putting on skirts, short heels, pantyhose and blouses and sweaters. The three shopped at one of the mall's anchor stores, looking and trying on fashionable evening dresses. Corey looked particularly striking when he tried on a black, chiffon and lace cocktail dress that ended in mid thigh, and left his shoulders bare, except for thin straps. "Wow," was all Mark could say when he saw Corey step out of the fitting room. "Isn't she pretty?" Lynn agreed. Corey blushed and a clerk came by and said, "That's perfect for you, dear." They didn't buy the dress; it was $248, far out of reach of folks from Foundry Town. Later, at lunch in the mall's fanciest, but not too pricey restaurant, Mark remarked, "Corey you are indeed the neatest looking girl in the place." "Yes," Lynn said. "Did you see the eyes follow her? I'm jealous, honey." "Oh no," Corey protested. "They're looking at you." "Sorry, Lynn, I'm afraid Corey's prettier that you." And they all three laughed, but Corey's laugh was a bit hesitant and wary. Where was this headed? In the mall, Corey and Mark held hands as they walked, playing out the scene of being a boy and girl in love. 'I'm a girl, a real girl,' Corey thought. 'I love it.' By mid-January, as the first semester final examinations were approaching, Corey's growing femininity began to draw attention. Walking down the hall, trying now not to walk with a girly sway, his posture was giving him away. He heard murmurs of "Mary... Mareeeeee" "Come here sweetie" "Darling". At home, he went totally into his girly ways, and felt comfortable. It was during the last week of regular classes and his last 3rd Hour gym class that the crowning embarrassment occurred. While Corey loved school, he hated gym, since he could hardly compete physically and he hated exposing his slender body in the locker room. Fortunately, his penis was only slightly smaller than average, but still he felt inadequate there. There, Jimmy Faulkner and Scott McGuire backed him into a corner as he was leaving the shower, totally nude, except for the towel around his waist. They grabbed the towel leaving him totally exposed, and Jimmy, his earlier tormentor, said, "What's a beauty queen like you doing in the boy's shower?" Scott produced two items from behind his back, girl panties and a bra. "Here girl, put these on." Corey tried to fend them off, by holding his hands to his face and flailing them. "She fights like a girl, too," Jimmy said, laughing. They easily subdued Corey and wrestled him to the floor. Corey surrendered, realizing his was not strong enough to resist these two boys. A crowd of other boys gathered around the affair, and Corey heard them yelling, "sissy," "queer," "faggot." One boy said, "We don't want any girls here." They were cheering and laughing and Corey was beginning to cry and weep. They had succeeded in slipping the panties on him, and surprisingly they fit, but he realized they were dirty panties. They sat him up on the tile floor, and he didn't resist, all the time hearing the laughter, but not looking up, as they attempted to put the bra on him. "See if he's got a pussy," he heard one boy say. As they were about to connect the snaps on the bra, Corey heard a loud voice, obviously from Mr. Mathias, "What's going on here?" "Nothing," he heard Jimmy say in response, still holding both ends of the bra in his hands. "Faulkner and McGuire, get dressed immediately and wait for me in my office. Now!" "The rest of you get dressed, and get to your next class. And, I don't want any of you teasing this boy again. Now go!" Corey still sat, humiliated by his own weakness and desires to be a girl that caused him to be the butt of class pranksters. He was still in the dirty panties, the bra laying in his lap. "Now for you," Mr. Mathias said, picking Corey up by his arm, his massive hands engulfing Corey's slender bicep. "Quit your crying, dry yourself off. Give me those panties and bra." Corey nodded, still trying not to cry. "I want you to dress and wait by your locker. You'll be excused from your 4th Hour class. I'll be back in a minute. I don't think anyone will bother you now in my locker room." Corey went back to his locker, passing others dressing for their 4th Hour class. No one looked at him, all silently dressing. There was a murmur in the background, and he heard someone with a deep voice say from behind the next tier of lockers, "I felt sorry for him. That was mean." And another answered in a higher pitched voice, "Yes, but he's such a girl." The first voice answered, "No one deserves to be treated like that." Corey couldn't place the voices, but felt better knowing there was someone who cared about what happened. The locker room cleared out and quickly began to fill again with the 4th Hour students, and soon Mr. Mathias appeared. "Come with me," he said gently. Corey followed along after Mr. Mathias and into his office, not knowing what was going to happen next. His humiliation had overwhelmed him; in the past, he had always been able to be one of the boys, to enjoy their company and rarely to be teased about his weaknesses. Most boys liked him, possibly due to his wit and cleverness, but now he was being discovered for what he feared he really was: a girl in the body of a boy. Mr. Mathias, the hated gym teacher, had now, too, shown some kindness and Corey was confused as he sat down in the chair next to Mr. Mathias' desk. "What do you think I should do about you now?" Mr. Mathias asked gently. Corey looked down, not ready with any kind of an answer, but to say, "I'm sorry, sir. Causing you all this trouble." "No, Corey, our problem is to find out what's best for you. I can handle those other kids, and if I have anything to say about it, they'll not bother you, at least in this locker room, or the gym." "Thank you, sir." Mr. Mathias sat, looking intently at Corey, as if trying to understand the student before him. "You know, Corey, I want all my boys to be strong and fit, and I'm sad when I see how pitiful you and a couple of the other boys look trying to do some of the exercises." "Yes, sir?" Corey muttered feeling more humiliated. "I'm sorry, sir." "Now, quit saying that. Don't be sorry. That's no way for a man to talk." "Yes, sir." Mr. Mathias said something then that surprised Corey. "I've been observing you for some time, and I know you're always trying. You're just not very strong, but you're always trying, and that's what counts." "But, Mr. Mathias, you called me a girl last fall." "Yes, I did and with good reason. I wanted to see what would happen with you, whether you could respond." Corey smiled slightly, saying to himself that the coach's comment had indeed caused him to respond in a way that made him realize he maybe was more a girl than a boy. "And, I now see you looking more and more like a girl. That's no way for a boy to act; you're even beginning to walk and talk like a girl. What's going on? You're just inviting other boys to make fun of you." "I guess I am," Corey said. "I don't know why. I just feel that way sometimes." "Now, Corey, my question is: should I treat you as a boy and expect you to perform in boy's gym? Or, should we figure something else out for you? "Like what?" "I could talk to Miss Thwaites and see if she'd accept you in girls' gym, but I don't like that idea. "Or, I could exempt you from gym with a request from your mother." "Oh gosh, Mr. Mathias, I'm not so sure I want to be treated special." "Well; it's up to you. You can tell me tomorrow, ok?" Mr. Mathias continued, "Why don't you do something to strengthen your muscles? You're a handsome lad and you don't have to act like sissy. Do that for me. Will you?" "Yes, sir," Corey said. He was now feeling totally humiliated. Why couldn't he be more of a boy, with muscles and broad shoulders? Mr. Mathias wrote Corey an excuse to miss 4th hour class. Corey was astonished at the choices. The easiest thing would be to get an excuse from his mother and skip gym class altogether; no longer would he feel the embarrassment of being the weakest kid in class. The idea of being in girls' gym excited him, and not because he'd be seeing girls in their short gym shorts and tight shirts, but rather because he'd fit in and look just like them. That was the most exciting prospect. He doubted, however, that the other girls would like that and that Miss Thwaites would even accept the idea. "No, Mr. Mathias, I think I'll try to stay in boys' gym. I'll try even harder for you." Mr. Mathias smiled and said, "I'd hoped you say that. You're a good student. You deserve a chance and I'd like to work with you, if that's OK. "Also, if you'd like, I could arrange for you to talk with Miss Riley, the school counselor." "No, Mr. Mathias, not now. Thanks." He really didn't think he was ready for that kind of consultation, and perhaps additional embarrassment from Miss Riley, who never struck him as being particularly friendly. After the gym locker room incident, Corey was even more confused. Until recently, other classmates had accepted him as a friendly, cheerful boy; no one had seemed to care about his lack of muscularity and he got along with most others. Now, that his girliness had been noticed, he wondered if he was facing a time of decision that would affect his whole life: should he not totally resign himself that he was more female than male, and begin to act and present himself as a girl; or, should he try to begin to be a "man" by making himself more fit in body and begin to participate in male activities? Those thoughts plagued him as he walked home from school that February afternoon. At first, Corey began to stride more manfully, taking long firm steps, hunching shoulders forward as a vigorous man would. As he approached Walnut Street, just two blocks from home, he found he had reverted to his girlish walking posture, back straight, with swinging hips and shorter steps. "Damn," he said to himself. "I can't seem to stop walking like a girl." With determination, he took on the manlier stride for the last two blocks. That afternoon, he remained in his boy clothes, determined to seem to rid himself of his girly tendencies. Before the girls were to get home, he got into a pair of shorts, and bared his upper body, looking at it in the mirror, seeing his slender, smoothness, a truly trim and, he had to admit, pretty body. "I'm not bad looking for a boy," he said to himself. He raised his right arm, and stiffened it to make a muscle, but the arm remained flat. "But those are girl's arms," he said out loud. Corey rummaged through his closet and found a pair of 5 pound hand dumbbells that he had been given two Christmases earlier by an uncle who had always been determined to make a "man" out of Corey, but Corey had rarely used them. He hated exercising, since it took time out of his day. Maybe he could build up his arm muscles, he thought, and began to lift the dumbbells, but after five minutes - which seemed like an eternity - he gave up the job. Well, he thought, maybe I'll do more tomorrow. As he put the dumbbells back in the closet, he saw the most recent box of clothes that Lynn had given him to try on. She was always searching her closet for clothes, and encouraging Corey to try them on, and she had found a particularly fetching light blue summer dress that Corey had yet to try on. "I think you'll look smashing in this," Lynn had said. Corey had been planning to try it on this day; now, with his new determination to remain in boy's clothes, he would have to forget it. Nonetheless, the desire to see how he would look overwhelmed him. He pulled the dress from its box, smoothed it out and held it up in front of him before the mirror. "Wow," he exclaimed. It framed his slender body perfectly, its thin shoulder straps displaying his girly body and the short-skirted style exposing his pretty legs. He started to step into the dress, but then stopped abruptly. No, he was going to be a boy this day, at least. He remembered his uncle, a longtime alcoholic who no longer drank, saying that he remains away from drinking "one day at a time" and Corey said that today is the first day he would not give into his desires to be a girl. And he remained true to his plan, working doubly hard to clean the house and do his homework, staying so busy he would have no time to indulge his feelings. Tomorrow, he thought, he would tell Mark that he was ending his plan to be prom queen and a pretty girl. He would remain a boy! In the privacy of his own room that night, he practiced talking more manly, lowering his voice and speaking more directly. At times he raised his voice, prompting his sister, Ronnette to yell, "What you doing in there?" He didn't respond, but lowered his voice. He tried the dumbbells again, looking in the mirror to see if somehow muscles were magically appearing on his slender arms. What he saw was the same smooth, slender and undefined body! A girl's body! True to his plan, he did not put on the baby doll nightie he loved so much, but rummaged around his drawer before finding his old pair of pajamas emblazoned with logos of the Green Bay Packers. He hadn't worn them since fall, when he started this journey into girlhood. And, he mused, he hadn't seen a football game on TV all that autumn, except when his Uncle Ben came to visit and watching the Packers was a "must" and Corey had to feign intense interest in whether Bret Favre completed a pass. Rather, it was more likely he was looking on those football Sundays at the numerous advertisements for women's fashions in the Sunday newspaper. He yearned for the frilly feel of the baby doll nighties as he lay in bed that night, troubled that he still was desiring to be a girl, that he wanted to see passionately how he would look in that summer print dress, and that secretly wondered what it would be like to date Dennis, the boy they met at the mall, and to be the girl friend of that handsome boy. "I can't do it," he said softly. "All I want to be is a girl. I am a girl." Corey began to sob, softly at first, and then uncontrollably. "I'm a girl... I'm a girl... I'm a girl." Slowly he heard the bedroom door open, and in the sliver of light, he could see it was his mother, entering slowly. "Are you crying? What's wrong, my darling?" She approached his bed, and Corey immediately stopped his sobbing and moved from the fetal position in which he had been lying and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Come, give your mom a nice hug. And cry all you want." He surrendered himself to his mother's arms, laying his head on her bosom, while she comforted him by patting the back of his head. They remained like that for a few minutes, his sobbing beginning again, but soon quieting down. He was in the comfort of his mother's arms. "Mom, please don't hate me. I can't be a boy. I'm no good as a boy. Mom, I'm trying to be a boy. Please don't hate me. Please. I love you, mom." "Oh honey," she said, holding him even more tightly. "You're my son, Corey darling. I want you to be happy." "Oh mommy, I feel like all I want is to be a girl." "Oh darling, it's so tough for you, I know." "Mommy, I feel like I am a girl. I feel so good as a girl. Oh, mommy, why can't I be a real son for you?" "Corey, I love you however or whoever you are. You're a sweet, warm, loving child. You've been so much a help for your mom." "Oh mother," Corey began crying again. "I love you so much." They hugged for a while, and Corey's tears ended, and as they parted, he could see his mother was crying, too. They both looked at each other, and almost laughed simultaneously. "Such cry babies," Corey said. And his mother replied, "Just like two girls." They both smiled then. "Now, Corey, I have a gift for you. It's something I found at Younkers on my lunch hour." It was a brand new nightgown, light blue. It was silky, and had thin shoulder straps, exposing his arms, and trailed down to his ankles. "Mother, it's divine," he said after trying it on and parading in front of the mirror. "I love you." "Nothing's too good for my girl," she said. "And it looks like it was made for you." He kissed her and sashayed again, the gown flowing as he turned. "I was not sure I was going to give this to you," his mother continued. "I'm not sure I wanted to encourage you in being a girl. It's really going to be tough for you." "Oh mother, I know that, and it's already been tough," he said. "Tonight, however, I saw how strongly you feel about this, and that your feelings are real. And, honey, you are so pretty." Corey turned to lie on the bed, caressing the bodice of the gown as he curled up. "You make this mother proud that she has such a beautiful daughter," she said. And Corey slept soundly, as the girl he knew he was. For the next several weeks, Corey consciously walked and talked like a boy during his school hours, but dressed fully as a girl whenever he could, practicing his walk, posture and voice to become more feminine. His mother began to help in his feminization process, showing him makeup tips and ways to fix his hair. "My you look lovely and pretty today," his mother said one early Saturday, as Corey sat in front of the mirror on the boudoir table they had set up for him. "I love that black slip on you. It really accentuates your body, honey." Corey loved sitting in front of the mirror, twirling his finger through his hair, and putting on lipstick. He felt so real viewing himself as pretty young woman. "Oh mom, as much as I should try to be a boy, I feel so good as a girl." "I know darling, but we need to tell your sisters what you're up to. They're beginning to wonder why you spend so much time in here, and why you lock your door." "No mom, they'll never understand," Corey protested. "They'll blab to the whole neighborhood, and in school, you know that." "Pretty soon, everyone'll know anyway. Your schoolmates see you changing; they're making fun of you know, and you say you want to go through with this prom queen stuff." "I know." "Then, it's best we tell your sisters now." Ronnette, at age 11, protested loudly when Corey and his mother told them later that morning at the kitchen table. "My brother... a girl? I'll be laughed at by everyone in 6th grade." "Now Ronnie, it what he feels he should do." "I'll never be able to go to that school. Let me go live with Uncle Ben." She stomped out of the room, into the living room, turning on MTV at high volume. "She'll understand, in time, I hope," his mother said. At age 8, Rachel thought the idea was "cool" and eagerly wanted Corey to dress up for them. "I can help you find fashions for you," she volunteered. Rachel was a fashion plate herself, enjoying dressing up as fancy as could be, and scouring teen magazines for makeup and dressing ideas. For her benefit, Corey put on a shirt, pleated plaid skirt, and a white sleeveless blouse, with a soft, beige scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked in to the bodice of the blouse. He brushed his hair to lie smoothly at its full length down to the collar of the blouse. "Whee, Corey, soooooo cool. I love it," Rachel said as Corey walked into the kitchen to model his "girl mode" to his sister. "Come Ronnie," she squealed to his sister. "See how pretty Corey is." "No way," she yelled back. "I'm going to live with Uncle Ben." After five minutes of "ooing" and "ahhing", which was clearly heard by Ronnie in the other room, she appeared tentatively at the kitchen door. "I've gotta see what a fool you are," she said. Ronnette stopped and looked, staring, not sure what she was seeing. "Corey? Corey? Is that you?" "Yes, it's your big brother." "But... but... you look like a girl." "I know, and I feel like a girl, even though I'm a boy. I don't know why this is happening." Ronnette was quiet and left the room, not saying anything. "She loves you, Corey," his mother said. "This will all work out." She walked over to Corey, holding several strands of his hair, and saying to Rachel, "We need to do something about this hairdo, don't you think? "Yes, mom, and put some braids in his hair. And, I got some nice idea for pretty dresses for Corey, my new sister." Corey had to admit to himself that he had never been more satisfied with himself than when Dennis held him and kissed him. It felt so good to be admired for what he was, and slender, smooth, lovely teenaged girl. He remembered vividly how tenderly and gently Dennis caressed his slender, soft arms and enveloped his narrow body into his arms. Dennis' praises of Corey's prettiness and femininity had been so sincere, and the eyes of other boys following Corey in the mall had been so exciting that he was convinced in his own mind that he would only feel satisfied with himself as a girl. Lynne had arranged for Corey and Dennis to meet innocently at the mall again, and to enjoy sometime together shopping, holding hands and have a few snacks at the food court. Dennis was also a shy boy, and, Lynne had thought, would not try to be too aggressive with Corey. Dennis, who still believed Corey was "Heather", the girl friend of another boy, was indeed very shy. It appeared he had little experience with girls himself, so when Corey refused to let Dennis' hands to wander between Corey's legs, Dennis did not protest. They had found a quiet spot on a bench in a landscaped area of the parking lot, and had held hands, and even ventured a few kisses. "Heather," Dennis had said. "You are so pretty and lovely." Corey had been overwhelmed by this sweet boy's attention, and settled into his arms, sitting tightly against Dennis, hoping for another kiss. It never came, since other shoppers came into sight. "Oh Dennis, you're such a nice boy," was all Corey could offer. Corey found that as a girl, he was found so much admired and desired. As a boy, he told himself, he was a failure, too weak and sensitive and shy. Could he dare go to school as a girl, he wondered? How marvelous that would be, since he was so feminine. "No," Lynne had said firmly, when he suggested the idea. "That would cause too much fuss. Just wait for the prom." "Aw. How about lending me a pair of your jeans and a polo shirt? They're not too girlish, and no one would know the difference." "Well, maybe." "I really feel so good in your clothes, Lynn. I'm sorry." Lynn walked over and embraced Corey, holding him tightly. "I know darling. I'm afraid I've made you into a girl." "Thank you, thank you." And they kissed passionately, as two loving girls. That Monday Corey went to school in Lynn's jeans and polo shirt, and no one commented on his clothes. He had put on a very natural color of lipstick and highlighted his eyebrows faintly, more because he enjoyed the female activity than because it would show. He would feel good about it, and that's what counted now. While he was applying the lipstick, his mother looked on, leaning over his shoulder, commenting, "You do that just like a woman. You're really looking the part, my darling." And she, too, hugged him softly, caressing his arms, and whispering in his ear, "My darling daughter." It was becoming more difficult in school as Corey wore more feminine clothes and adopted the postures of girls. He had purchased several pair of girl's jeans, as well as various embroidered shirts, similar to the unisex style that other boys were beginning to wear at the time. On Corey, with his slender body and long flowing blonde hair he looked definitely female in the shirts, which exposed his smooth arms. Try as he might, he could not change the way he walked; he had adopted the straight up posture of girls, and his hips moved provocatively as he walked down the hallways. He was getting lots of hoots and howls as he walked. "Hi Honey!" "Hey sweetie!" "Is this your time of the month." In the classroom, Corey rarely raised his hand to participate, a dramatic change since he had always been active and alert in the classroom. He sat there, afraid to call attention to himself. Yet, he was pleased to think of himself as a girl; he felt he was so attractive in his female persona. That was proven often during the school day, when he was mistaken as a girl. In the school cafeteria, he was eating alone, as he often did, when a boy he did not know sat down opposite, politely asking, "Are you waiting for anyone? May I sit here?" Corey looked up, and saw a tall, slender boy with a pale complexion and pronounced Adam's apple already sitting on the bench opposite. He nodded that it was OK, and returned to his food. "I'm new here," the boy said cheerfully, barging forward without invitation. "I'm Michael." "Hi, I'm Corey," mumbling the answer in the low voice. Michael raced through his life story, with Corey only nodding, or saying a quiet, "That's interesting." Michael's father recently had been transferred to the City; Michael himself was also a junior, and he proudly stated he was an honor student back in his old school. "Bet you're a smart girl," the boy said to Corey, who responded by looking sharply at him. Michael was confused. "I'm sorry, I mean, I saw you had your books out ... and you look like a really smart girl. It's a compliment." Michael reddened. He was obviously an awkward boy, eager to make a good impression, but with not much self-confidence to do it smoothly. Corey wanted to ignore him, but finally said, "Well, thanks, I do OK in grades, but I'm not a girl, by the way." Michael looked stunned, and then mumbled, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." "Oh that's all right," Corey interrupted, himself feeling pained at seeing Michael struggle with an appropriate apology. "I really get mistaken for a girl... my long hair, you know." Corey knew it was more than the long, flowing blonde hair that marked him as a girl; his demeanor and slender body accentuated his femininity, and it was obvious that Michael had seen him as a pretty girl who was sitting alone and may be approachable. "Maybe I better go," Michael said. "I feel so foolish. You know I had hoped you had no boy friends and I could get to know you better." "I seem to be attracting lots of boys," Corey laughed. He was beginning to enjoy his role as a "pretty girl" who attracted the eyes of boys. "I'm becoming a flirt, and I seem to enjoy it," Corey had admitted the following weekend to Lynn. Corey asked Michael to stay so they could talk some more. Soon the two found they had common interests in literature; both found they had struggled through some recent novels, but found them rewarding. Michael, too, felt he was never "one of the boys" since his family had moved so often and he had become a bookworm and awkward among other boys. "My dad always wanted me to be good at sports," Michael confessed to Corey at lunchtime a few days later. They had begun meeting for lunch, and quickly were discussing their own lives and their fantasies. "I never seem to be any good at any of them." "I always helped mom out at home with my sisters and never had time to play much or do sports," Corey explained. "I'm no good either." "Why do boys have to do sports?" Michael asked. It was then that Corey admitted his enjoyment at being a girl, and how he had begun do dress as one! "Am I weird?" he asked. "No, not if that's how you feel," Michael said. "And you do make a pretty girl." "I guess I do, at least to you. You were hitting on me!" They both laughed, as Michael reached across the table with both his hands, grabbing Corey's hands gently. Corey let his hands soften in Michael's bigger, stronger hands. Abruptly, Michael let go, and smiled, "We better not do this here." "I got an idea. You can say 'no', but what if I asked you out on a date, just like you were my girl friend?" "Oh, I'm not sure if I'm ready for that." "Oh, nothing fancy, maybe just to a movie and something to eat. Real informal." "I'm not fully ready for that." "We could be informal. You could dress almost like you do now, nothing too feminine, but, really, everyone would think you're my girl friend." Corey blushed. The idea intrigued him. "I wouldn't try anything," Michael said, with a twinkle in his eye. Corey laughed. "I wouldn't let you." "You know, I have to confess. I've never taken a girl out on a real date. You'll be my first." "Never had any dates myself." It was true; Corey had never asked a girl out for a date. He always felt he wasn't a good enough for any girl to want to be seen out on a date with him. He desired so much to be like the other boys in school, but felt he didn't measure up. He looked at many of the pretty girls, but knew they'd reject him. "Wow," Michael said. "My first date: And with the prettiest girl in school." Corey flashed a flirty look at this gangling, gawky boy who was eager to show he could find a pretty girl to go out with him. Corey felt so happy to be that pretty girl. He shared the joy of Michael's invitation with his mother, who at first was cool to the idea. "Don't you think this is going too far?" "Oh, it'll be fun. Nothing'll happen," he replied. She struggled with the idea through supper and while they were doing the dishes, she finally said: "Well, I want to meet this boy first. I want my girl to be safe." "Oh mother, we're just friends. It's not like I can get pregnant." "No honey, I want to enjoy this as much as you. I want to help you be a pretty for Michael and treat you like you are a real daughter." "Oh mother," Corey rushed over and hugged her. The following day as he approached school, Corey found himself in the midst of five girls from his class, lead by Mark's old girl friend, Nicole. All five were dressed up in the fashion of Britney Spears, with the milk-fed whiteness and cuteness. "Listen, you fag," said Nicole, walking up to Corey and stopping him abruptly. "What?" Corey stopped suddenly, even feeling fear, for several of the girls were tall and strong and looked threatening. "What are you trying to do? You're trying to be a girl. Are you queer?" "I'm not hurting anybody." "Well we don't like it," she said. The others agreed. "We have a respectable school here, and we don't want any gay boys ruining it." She grabbed his arm, and held onto the fabric of his embroidered shirt. "Quit wearing this stuff. You look like a fag." "And cut your hair," said Stephanie Miller, who lifted his flowing locks and dropped them disdainfully. Corey was shocked to see Stephanie there, agreeing with them. She had been a co-editor of the school's magazine with him, and they enjoyed each other. "Let me go," he said, carrying his books as girls would, even exaggerating his feminine walk as he pushed his way between the girls. "What a disgrace!" he heard Nicole say as he left. At lunch he suggested to Michael that they eat outside; it was a balmy, unusually warm March day and they took their sandwiches and cokes to a bench in the school's patio area, sitting close to each other. To a stranger walking by, they might look like a teenage couple, a boy and a girl enjoying lunch together. Corey was still depressed over the morning's encounter with the other girls. "I feel so bad. They're right. I should quit this girl stuff!" "Oh Corey, don't let them bother you." "But I'm doing something so abnormal. Boys don't dress like girls for school!" Michael took Corey's hands into his and held them affectionately. "You're hands are so cold, Corey." "You know what I think," Michael said. "I think they're jealous of you. I think you're prettier than all of them." Corey flushed, wondering how to respond. He felt like crying, and moistness entered his eyes, again feeling so happy to be a girl. Michael didn't say anything more, but gently ran his fingers up under the cuff of Corey's jacket, lightly caressing his forearm. They stayed that way for what seemed an eternity, and Corey felt so moved, so close to this awkward, gangly boy sitting next to him. Never had he felt more affection for anyone outside of his family. Corey looked directly into Michael's eyes, and their face drew close to one another, and he felt a strong urge to kiss the other boy. And it seemed to him that Michael was about to move toward him and do the same. Abruptly, Corey removed his arm from Michael's gentle hold and looked away. "Oh Michael, what are we doing? I felt so strange... ah... and excited." "Corey, me too." They were saved by the school's warning bell, alerting them to return to class. On his way, Corey wondered what was happening; he had never felt this way about anyone before. His face was so close to Michael and he felt an urge to kiss Michael and to hug him and to be hugged in return. "How could I be in love with a boy... much less a boy as awkward and gawky as Michael," he asked himself. In history class, even though it was his favorite and he loved Mr. Rostoff's energetic and inspiring teaching methods, Corey found it difficult to concentrate. He found himself picturing himself buried into the embrace of Michael, being held tightly and be caressed as a pretty girl would be. As Valentine's Day approached, Corey dressed more and more in androgynous clothing, having now purchased girl's jeans which rode lower on his hips and helped him to move his body in a more feminine fashion. Instead of boy's sneakers, he now wore girl's sneakers, usually white with a splash of color in them so they were not too attention getting. With his long hair flowing freely and his narrow shoulders and feminine stride, he appeared from the back the teenage girl he was striving to be. He used a very natural shade of lipstick, used light rouge to brighten his cheeks and just a hint of eyeliner. He had had his ears pierced and now wore, in the style of many boys, a light earring in one lobe. Technically, he was still a boy and used the boys' rooms and continued in boys' gym classes. He was often mistaken for a girl, by other students, by clerks in stores and people on the street. Corey admitted to himself that he was beginning to enjoy the attention. "Fag, sissy clothes, that's what I'd call them," said Mark one day as they were walking to school together. Corey had even begun wearing one of Lynn's old parkas, a light blue model with pink trim that made him looked totally female when dressed in this outdoors outfit. Corey smiled, reddening a bit. "Maybe, we should call this all off," Mark said. "I mean this prom queen stuff." "No that's ok, I'm with it." "I see you being teased... being called a fag... and a sissy. You don't need to do this for me." "And why do you have to dress so much like a fag?" Mark asked. "To help me get in the mood of being the girl you want for your prom queen." "Well, I'm having second thoughts about this, Corey. I'm sorry I ever asked you to do this." "Oh don't have. This has been great for me. It's weird, but I'm enjoying this." "Well, OK," Mark said. "I started this, but if you'd like, I could pick another girl." "Who? You gotta make your choice next week." It's true the nominations for prom queen needed to be submitted by Valentine's Day when they would be announced. Mark, as a football star, was under pressure by several girls and their friends to nominate another of the pretty girls in the class, now that it was common knowledge that he and Nicole were no longer together. Mark had played it coyly, telling every one that his nominee for queen would be a pleasant surprise. Now, Mark had to make his choice in a few days, and Corey was excited, and scared, that Mark would choose Corey. Mr. Mathias, the gym coach, was being very friendly to Corey, and said he would excuse Corey from regular gym class, and make him his assistant, collecting the towels and keeping attendance and doing other chores. "This will avoid you having any problems with the other boys," he said. "And," he told Corey, "We'll give you some exercises to keep you fit. Come in for a few minutes after school, if you can." Corey was so relieved that he wouldn't need to suffer the remarks from the other boys in gym class, and be open to examination in the shower room. For some reason, he looked forward to returning after school to meet with Mr. Mathias. Corey was finding the gym teacher's attention to be so flattering; it excited him so. Corey would soon find out what Mr. Mathias had in mind and it would take Corey onto whole new adventures into girlhood. (To Be Continued)