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

The Prom Queen: A Story About a Lovely Boy - Part Five By Katherine Day Copyrigh, 2006 by K. G. Communications As Corey walked the halls of Carney High in the few days remaining before the prom queen competition, it was clear he was being recognized as a girl. In particular, it seemed that girls accepted him as one of theirs, except for Nicole, her supporters and a few girls who were uptight or prudish, maybe due to strong religious upbringing. He wasn't dressing any more girlish than he had, still wearing low- cut jeans, or slacks or Capri pants and the colorful blouses (many with sequins), all of which had a unisex quality. On Corey, combined with his flowing blonde hair, his walk showing a sway of his hips and his hands always moving in a flitting manner, the clothes merely accentuated his femininity. In sixth hour English class, the teacher, Mrs. Nickelson, called on him, saying, "Miss Sanders." The class began tittering, and the teacher said again, with some impatience, "Miss Sanders." Corey realized that Mrs. Nickelson, an old, somewhat scatter-minded teacher, was seeing him as one of the girls in the class. He answered the question, hoping to quiet the muttered giggles going around the room. Corey found it easier, and safer, to stick with his girl friends; most of the boys were rude and pointedly ignored him, except for Michael, Mark and Jason. It was apparent that most boys felt he was gay, and therefore someone to be shunned, and kept away from. Even those boys who knew better sought to ignore Corey, and refused to befriend him, probably for fear of being teased as being "faggots" or "gay" or "that way". He tried not to go to the Boys' Room, for he was always met with some reaction, from mere glances to actual frightening confrontations. He used the commodes, instead of the urinals, since the commodes were enclosed and he could remove his panties without others noticing. Once he found about four boys peaking under the bottom of the partition to view him, and making remarks: "Look at the pussy." "Isn't she cute?" or "Fag." On the day after the Student Council approved Corey's candidacy, he was confronted in the boy's bathroom by Stanton Holden, a tattooed lout who wore short-sleeved denim shirts and jeans. Stanton was a known bully, large, overweight, but strong and nasty. "Pussy girl," he challenged Corey as he left the stall. "Where ya' goin'. This ain't no girl's room." Corey froze, not sure what to do. He remained silent. "Girl, can't you talk to me?" "Let me by," Corey said, squeaking the words out meekly. "Oh, you're too good for me?" "No." "I could be your boy friend, girl. I'd show you a real good time." Corey couldn't think what to say, but blurted out, "I have a boy friend." "Oh the little girl here has a boy friend," he said sarcastically. Corey was so mad at himself for responding that way, and Stanton grabbed Corey, and began to hug him and try to kiss him and run his hands down to Corey's crotch. Corey could not move, and he was frightened. There was no way he could escape this boy; he was just too weak and never did know how to fight. He realized just how defenseless a girl could be against a man determined to bully or abuse her. Corey tried to hit Stanton, but his arms just couldn't move. He surrendered weakly, growing limp in Stanton's arms. Tears came to his eyes, and he began to cry. "Let me go, Stanton. Please." "Little girl, you're mine now." Corey's crying became louder. Then, he remembered some talking the girls had one day about how to resist an abuser. Corey lifted his left knee and hit Stanton hard in the crotch, his legs now strong from the ballet classes. "Owwwwwwwwww," Stanton yelled. "You bitch." But he released Corey from his grip. Just then, they could hear someone entering the room. Stanton strode out, looking over his shoulder, giving a Corey a wicked wink. Corey's eyes were moist, and he was flushed. The boy who entered was a stranger to Corey, but he knew who Corey was and asked, "You OK, Corey?" "Yes," and he fled the room. Corey therefore tried to time his visits for 3rd hour ballet, where he changed in Ms. Simmons room, which had a single toilet. "I wish I could be all girl," he confided in his mother one night as he was preparing for bed. "I'm neither boy nor girl. Kind off a half- baked weirdo." Corey was in his light blue nightie, a frilly outfit that ended just below his buttocks; underneath he wore matching satin panties. He stood in a feminine pose in the living room, addressing his mother who was reading on the couch, knees folded under her. Corey was struck with how pretty his mother looked at that moment; she wore a pair of dark blue shorts and a tight fitting pink tee shirt with the words: "Dogs Are a Woman's Best Friend." The tee shirt was a gift from her sister, Flora, after his mother's last boy friend found someone younger. His mother was barefoot, exposing pretty formed legs and feet. Her light brown hair was tied in a bun, and even without makeup on, she looked positively adorable to Corey. His mother was of medium height, slender and without the widening mid-section that hit so many women in their early 40s. She wore granny glasses that made her look both studious and a bit sexy. "Come here, sit with me for a minute," his mother said. She moved her legs, giving room for Corey to sit, and put her arm around Corey, drawing him close to her, letting him cuddle as she would a small child. He loved her fresh, clean, soapy smell and her freckled arms (which she hated) and Corey felt safe and protected. "Mother, I'm so mixed up. This all happened so fast." "I know honey," she said, kissing him gently on his forehead. He nestled more tightly against her, so comfortable and feeling like he could stay there forever, in the arms of a loving mother. "Mom, a teacher today, called on me as 'Miss Sanders,' and the class began to laugh." "Oh, was she doing it to be funny?" "No, it was Mrs. Nickelson. She's not like that. She just thought I was a girl." "Well, you can't blame her, honey. You look very much a 'girl'." "And most boys treat me like the plague. They laugh at me, think I'm queer." His mother held him more tightly now, caressing his blonde hair. "You knew this would happen," she said. "You are a very lovely person. People like you. Don't worry about these crude boys." Corey was silent for a moment, happy in his mother's arms, and then let out a little giggle. "You're right. Men are no good." He pointed to her tee shirt, and she laughed, too. "Well some are no good," she admitted. "You've got three boys who seem to like you," his mother added, again laughing a bit. Corey felt so good at that moment, finally asking, "Mom, if I stay a girl, will I be as pretty as you as I get older?" "You're sweet to call me pretty," she said. "Well, you are." "Honey, I guarantee that you'll be a prettier woman than I am." "Oh mom, do you really think so?" "Yes. Look at you now. If you aren't the prettiest girl in Carney High, I'll be surprised." Corey nestled more tightly against his mother; after a few minutes of silence, his mother said, "Honey, I want to finish my book now. You best get your beauty sleep." "Mom, you're the greatest." He kissed her lips, and roused himself, heading off to bed for the comforting sleep of a lovely girl. Mark and Corey had a date that Saturday night, with Corey wearing a layered cr?me-colored skirt, bare legs and sandals and a light blue blouse with a v-neck and short sleeves. He tied his hair in a pony tail. Mark was dressed in light blue jeans and a polo shirt, his strong arms bursting the short sleeves. Corey looked so fragile next to Mark, his slender arms at stark contrast. They saw a movie starring Julia Roberts, a rather lame story, but they hardly cared, sitting next to each other, sharing popcorn. Mark ran his fingers lightly up Corey's arms, and even stole a kiss at one point in the movie. Later they went to Conroy's Diner for something to eat. Corey was a little reluctant to go out to a diner where they might meet some students from school. "I still get teased about dressing like a girl. I don't know who'll be there." Mark said, "It'll be all right. I'll be with you. I'll beat up anyone who bothers you. You're my girl." "Oh Mark, you're so sweet," he said, kissing him lightly as they parked the car at the diner. Mark held open the door of the dinner for Corey, in a gesture of perfect manners, and as he feared, Corey saw right away that there were several groups of Carney High students in the diner. He felt a moment of fear, and heard someone say in a stage whisper voice, "Corey and Mark are here, Look!" There was brief silence, and suddenly cheers and applause broke out. "The King and Queen are here. Hooray," someone shouted. "The most beautiful couple," said another. Corey and Mark were startled, but the students kept it up. Both were blushing. "We better bow or something," Mark said. "You bow, I'll curtsey," Corey said. And they did just that, to even greater applause and shouting. Several of the boys in the groups were teammates of Mark, and after things quieted down they came over to the table and one of them said, "Mark, you know we're behind you on this." "Gee, thanks, Eric," Mark said, addressing the boy. "Do you know my girl friend, Corey?" "I guess everyone does by now," Eric said. "Nice to meet you, Corey." "Nice meeting you," Corey responded in his soft, somewhat higher pitched voice. He was doing a better job mastering the voice. "We're going to vote for you on Thursday," he said. Later, as Mark parked his mother's car in front of Corey's house, he put his right arm around Corey's shoulders, and ran the fingers of his left hand gently along Corey's lips. "Corey, honey, I'm seeing you only as a girl now. Oh, this is so strange." "I know." "I want you in my arms; I want to kiss you, to hold you as my girl friend. Is this so wrong?" "And I want to be your girl friend. I'm not a boy anymore." "Oh Corey, honey, you're the prettiest girl in school now. I love you so." "Oh Mark, I don't know what to say." "Just let me hug you as my girl. We'll forget about the problem of both having cocks, at least for now." Corey was ecstatic with emotion; he felt weak and soft and feminine and so happy to be held by Mark. Just then a bright full moon peaked out from behind the clouds, hovering over the rooftops, splashing white light upon the young couple as they hugged. "Oh Mark, that moon's for us!" "Yes, Corey, but especially for you, lovely girl." Their night together ended with more talking, hugging and kissing, and Mark walked Corey to the door as they had seen done in the movies, kissing him gently, before the door opened to show Corey's two sisters staring at them. After Corey got ready for bed, wearing his favorite nightie, the sisters wanted to hear all about his date. With cookies and milk, they giggled together as Corey described the diner scene. Later that night, as Corey lay sleeping, curled up, looking small and sweet in the bed, his mother came in and looked at him for a long minute, finally kissing him on his long hair and muttering, "My daughter." She said it with a broad smile. "Corey, time to get up," his mother called at him at 6 a.m. on Monday morning. "Aw, mom, just a few minutes." This was the big week, the week of the prom queen competition, the announcement of the winners and then the big night itself: the dressing up, the primping of the hair, the application of makeup and perfume, the arrival at the front door of Mark, his prom date, the walk into the dance, the dancing, the Grand March, and then the post prom event. Corey, his stomach beginning a panic, was to be one of the five girls at the center of all the attention. Could he actually follow through on all this? He was scared, he admitted to himself, and he curled up even more tightly in his nightie and began caressing his slender, soft upper arm with one hand, content to lay there, imagining himself as a girl. "Come on my pretty one," his mom said again, "or I'll send Ronnie in here to get you up." He knew that his sister, in her tomboyish ways, would be rough with Corey and maybe even a bit nasty. "All right, mom, but I don't feel so good." To Corey, that was the truth. He felt almost sick to his stomach, realizing that he had another week of being the center of attention, of being gawked at, of being whispered about. Sometimes, he knew, his schoolmates were praising him for his courage and how pretty and feminine he had become; others, however, were laughing at him, belittling his male weakness, calling him the usual names of "fag", "sissy", "queer", "weirdo" etc. "Mom, I'm getting so scared. Is this really happening? Me being a girl?" His mother came and sat down next to him on the bed, and she leaned over, lifting him up to hug him, to hold him gently against her. She was in her nightie, and a robe, and still had the sour smell of a night's sleep about her, but Corey felt some comforted in her arms. "Darling, yes. It's happening. And, you'll be fine. You've got a case of the jitters." "I know, mom, but I'm so scared." He started to feel tears in his eyes. He was feeling suddenly so helpless, so weak and so frightened as to what he'd face this week. "Mommy," he said using a term he hadn't used since he was 7 or 8 years old, "why can't I just stay home and be your little girl?" He mother stood up suddenly, and let Corey fall back as she let go of him: "Enough. Get going now. You'll be fine." Corey began to cry out loud now. "You have so many friends pulling for you honey. Come on now, get going! It'll be OK, you'll see." The question became that morning, as it was so many mornings: What should Corey wear? How feminine should he look? He and his mom had bought a flowing skirt, with a floral pattern, last week, and Corey just loved it. With a belt it seemed to broaden his hips, and the skirt was knee-length, showing his slender legs; with a pair of pink tennis shoes and a sleeveless, fluffy blouse, he'd look so totally feminine. He was modeling the outfit, twirling about, admiring himself when his mother entered. "You're not going to school in that?" "Oh mom, why not?" "That'll make into a girl totally. The school isn't ready for that." "Well, I am. And, I am a girl, aren't I? "You sure look it now. But, better put on those Capri pants for now, or the slacks. You can keep the blouse on." "Aw, mom." He smiled. "I guess you're right." "I'll still look like a girl," he added. His mother smiled, and said, "You better hurry." He brushed his long hair, bobbing it at the back, feeling so excited at how far he had come in his journey into femininity. And, he seemed ready to accept whatever he would face in the coming days in school. "Hey, girl, wait up!" It was Mark, yelling at Corey as he trudged off to school, about a 10-block walk. Corey halted, and Mark came running up and joined him. It was an early spring day, but it promised to be a warm one, sunny and mild. There was still a chill in the morning air, and Mark was wearing a letter jacket, black with cardinal trim and a big number "C" on it for Carney High. It contained 5 chevrons, signifying he had five letters, in football and basketball. He looked like the "All-American Boy." Corey's beige Capri pants and pink tennis shoes showed below his blue girl's wind-breaker. He had a light green backpack. He wore a beige baseball cap, with his blonde hair tucked through the back of the cap; the hair bounced as he walked, very erect, with short steps. "Thanks," Mark said. "You look so cute this morning." "Oh Mark," he replied. "I'm scared. This is going to be so tough this week." "I know it will. But you are to pretty, and so many people are pulling for you." "You're sweet to say that, Mark." They walked in silence for a while; to a passing driver the pair would look like any other high school lovebirds: a boy walking his girl friend to school. "I know it's weird, Corey, but I feel you are only a girl, that you were never a boy." "Oh Mark, that's why I'm scared. I feel I am a girl, too." "And we've known each other forever," Mark said. "I know. Remember how we'd play dress up. You'd be the daddy and me the mommy." "We were so little then. I loved that. Maybe I began thinking of you as a girl then." "Do you think so?" Mark didn't answer right away. He was remembering those times when the slender Corey would fit into Mark's sister's dresses, and look so cute. Corey's hair was long even then, and with the lipstick they had stolen and used, Corey had become a little girl right before his eyes. "Well, for this week," Mark began again. "You're my girl friend. I'm proud to have you as my girl." Corey blushed slightly, and said, "Mark, it's going to be hard. I keep hearing nasty remarks, about both of us, that we're queer, faggots, and some even nastier. You must, too." "I do," he said. "I'm getting teased too. But I'm also hearing so many tell me how brave I am for doing this." "You are, Mark. You are so brave. To defend your girl friend." "No, Corey. I'm not brave. I just feel this is right, and who couldn't be so proud to be escorting the prettiest girl in school to the prom?" Mark took Corey's hand and held it as they approached school; Mark gave Corey's hand a gentle, loving squeeze as the parted, saying, "You'll do fine today." Corey literally skipped up the stairs to his locker. Perhaps the other students had gotten used to Corey's girlhood by now; he experienced little attention during the school day. To be sure, he continued to get stares, both of a curious and generally positive nature and also of the contemptuous nature. By arrangement now with the assistant principal after his attack by the bully Stanton Holden in the boys' room the previous week, he was using the unisex bathrooms in the teachers' lounges. Most of the teachers seemed supportive when he entered the lounges, telling him, "Best of luck to you, Corey," or "Go get 'em, girl," or even "You go girl." Miss Masters, the youngish, new English teacher, whose rounded curved figure, had caused comment among most of the boys (and probably the men teachers as well), was particularly attentive, interrupting her newspaper reading as Corey entered the first floor teachers' lounge. She wore a beige peasant blouse, with a low neckline that showed just a hint of cleavage and with short puffed sleeves that exposed soft white arms. She also had on a flowing floral skirt that reached to her knees. She wore her black hair in a straight, page boy style. As Corey left the bathroom, Miss Masters stopped him. "Corey, can you spare a minute?" "I need to get to my next class, Miss Masters." "That's OK. This'll only take a minute." "I'm forming a drama club, Corey, and I want to know if you'll be interested in joining." "Me? I've never acted in my life." "Oh, but from what I hear, you have lots of talent." "Thank you." "Anyone who can turn from being a boy into a girl so convincingly must have talent, Corey." "I don't know, Miss Masters, but thank you." "Give it some thought," she said. "I'll talk with you after the prom." "I will, and thank you," Corey said. "By the way," Miss Master said as Corey was leaving, "I think you're dressed so cute today." Corey blushed profusely. She was the second person today to say he was "cute". He realized that his mother was right, that regardless what he wore now, he had become a girl in the eyes of most persons. Little did Miss Masters know that it was not acting talent that made Corey such a convincing girl. Corey more and more was beginning to believe that he was by nature a girl, even though he had a boy's anatomy. Being a girl was just being Corey, he felt. Michael and Tanya, quickly becoming a "couple", joined him at the lunch table that day. They were all excited about prom night, their outfits and what the group should do afterward. In ballet class, two class hours earlier, the girls and Corey had worked particularly hard on rehearsing "Swan Lake" and Corey's dancing skills had progressed so that he was moved to the first row of the corps. Tanya was the lead in the ballet, playing Odette, and she told Michael as they sat down that Miss Simmons had moved Corey to the first row. "She's really doing great, Corey is," Tanya said. "You should see her." "I still feel I'm not as good as the other girls," Corey responded. "Oh really?" answered Tanya. "You think they put you there just because you're so pretty? No, honey, you've earned it." "See Corey," Michael said. "You're becoming quite a ballerina." "Oh, Tanya, thank you," Corey said. "I want to earn that. I don't wanna be treated as a novelty." They discussed Corey's routine for the prom queen competition. In practice it was lasting four minutes, just under the allotted time, and they wondered if it should go for the full five minutes. "No," Tanya said. "We have told our story and Corey will be able to show her dancing abilities in that time." "Besides, I'm not sure I can last a full five minutes in that ballet routine," Corey said. "It's tiring." They had practiced the segment for several weeks now, after school, finishing up just before Pang Xiong came for her practice on the piano. Pang usually had been practicing for several minutes before the group left the room, and each time they were all amazed at the tremendous music coming from the diminutive girl. "If she isn't the most talented girl here, I'll be surprised," commented Carol that afternoon. "I know, and no one should be ashamed to lose to her," added Tanya. "Well, it takes more than talent to win," Carol added. "Our girl here is still the prettiest, and still very talented." "Well, I like Pang," said Corey. "And I don't mind losing to her. She's nice." Carol was upset. "Look Corey, we're all working hard for you. We don't want you to give up in favor of someone else." "I'm not giving up," Corey replied as they walked out of the school, and stood on the walk, already quiet as most the kids had left the grounds. They stood there, Tanya, Carol and Corey, three girls in an animated conversation. "It's just that I'm not sure I should even be in the competition." "Why?" Carol and Tanya said in unison. "I'm not really a girl." "Oh damn," said Carol. "You're a girl, whether you wanna be or not." "And we've been through all this before," Tanya added. "You got the right to participate whether you're a girl or a boy." "And to us and just about everybody in school now, you're a girl," Carol added. "But I feel I am cheating the real girls," Corey said. "Oh sweetheart, you're worked very hard for this. Lots of practice," Tanya said. "And now, look at you, in the front line of the ballerinas." Carol added, "You're as much a girl as either of us, in your mind, in your heart, and, darling, in your body. Why, I'm sure that either of us could beat you up in a fight. You're such a girl, for real." And she grabbed Corey's slender right wrist, and said with a twinkle in her eye, "Let's arm wrestle." Her grip was firm, but gentle, and Corey was too weak to pull away from her hold, and then smiled. "I guess so. Let's not arm wrestle; you'd win." Carol pulled Corey tightly in a hug, and gave him a sisterly kiss, before releasing him. "Thank you, both of you," Corey said. "It's just that I get these guilty feelings, and also I'm so scared. Sometimes I feel like calling this whole thing off." "Oh no, not really. Why?" said Carol. "I won't quit on you," Corey said quickly. "But you know, I'm beginning to think I am a girl. Am I not a boy? What am I going to do?" "Oh honey," Carol said. "Let's chat about this for a minute." At that point a horn honked, and Tanya said: "Oh that's my mom. I gotta go. Corey, we all love you for who you are. To me you're one of the nicest girls I know." Corey gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and as she ran off to meet her mom, she yelled back: "I'll call you tonight, Corey. Bye." Carol led Corey to a concrete bench that rimmed the walk to the school and they sat, Carol taking Corey's slender hands into her larger hands. Carol was still in the second row; she would probably never make it as a dancer, being a bit larger boned and slow. Everyone loved Carol, who welcomed everyone with a warm smile and followed that up with an obvious sincerity and interest in the other persons. "Corey, for this week, you know, you'll be a girl. You don't need to think about what happens after that. You have plenty of time to worry about that." "I know, Carol. You're so right." She caressed his hand, holding it softly and running her fingers up his smooth inner forearm. "But, Carol," he continued with a twinkle in his eye, "I still have a boy's anatomy, even if you can beat me up." "You know I'd never hurt you, Corey." "I feel so confused, being such a sissy as a boy. I was always teased and I hated myself for being so weak and so bad in sports and stuff." "And, now, you find yourself feeling so good as a girl, right?" "Oh yes, and it feels so natural. I like being a girl, and doing girl things. I like giggling and being with you and Tanya, just as girl friends." "And you're just one of us," Carol agreed. "We all consider you a girl. I think we'd all feel OK changing clothes in front of you, being nude, since you're so feminine." "Oh, I'd have to hide a certain something from your eyes," Corey giggled. "But it's not big, so that would be no problem." It was then that Corey related the humiliating experience he had in the boys' room when Stanton cornered him. He had been so frightened, he admitted. "I couldn't fight back. You know how weak I am." "How did you get away from him?" Carol asked. "I did a very girly thing," Corey said. "I kneed him in the balls." "Wow, you are something! Now you know how girls feels when guys try to force themselves on you." "Yes, I thought of that afterward. How a weak girl can be so easily raped. It's awful." "Often there's not much you can do against such a strong boy. But you figured it out, using your legs, so strong from ballet." They both laughed, but Carol agreed that Corey's life after Prom Week was going to be a difficult one, whether he would live as a girl, or tried to be a boy. Corey hugged Carol again, tightly and warmly; it was a sisterly hug but it was full of affection the two shared for each other. Corey began to softly cry as they hugged; it seemed he was crying an awful lot recently. Carol pushed him away firmly, and said, "See, you are a girl. Look how easily you burst into tears." Corey began a mixture of laughing and crying and soon both were laughing, as they broke up, with Corey heading to his home in Foundry Town and Carol to her home in the Warrington Hills. Tanya called about 8:30 p.m. that night, and Corey related the conversation he and Carol had. She listened closely, interjecting only an "oh" or a "yes" every so often. "Oh honey, you know we'll all be with you after the Prom. You're our friend, and we want you to be so happy." She too agreed that Corey's future life might be a difficult one, but that for this week at least Corey should think of himself only as a girl, and work at being the prettiest girl in school. "And in you're case," Tanya said, "You won't have to work hard. You already are the prettiest." Just to make sure, however, Tanya said she and her mother had arranged for Corey to get his hair fixed at the most chic place in town, Beverly's on Hillside. "Beverly's?" Corey exclaimed. "That's the hottest salon in town." "Yes, it is, and my mom goes there," Tanya said, "And she arranged with Beverly to fix you up without charge." "You're kidding." "No, Beverly said she'd do it as a contribution and for the promotion she'd get out of it." "But, Tanya, I've never been to a beauty parlor in my life. I don't know how to act." "Beverly will take care of you herself, and she's very nice." "Oh, you're so sweet, Tanya, and your mom, too." It was arranged that Corey would go in on Wednesday after school for a preliminary hair set, returning Saturday afternoon to get a final fix before the prom. Corey thanked Tanya profusely and then literally skipped into tell his mother, feeling suddenly that he was all girl again. Tuesday and Wednesday became just a blur in Corey's mind. Besides going to class, doing ballet rehearsal, and preparations for the Thursday prom queen competition, Corey was worried about how he'd look on stage, whether he'd look ridiculous as a boy pretending to be a girl, whether his voice would maintain some of its feminine traits, whether he'd be laughed at or scorned and whether he'd fall flat on his face doing a fouette twirl. His last chance at rehearsing his talent skit was held Tuesday after school. His whole "campaign" team was there, including Carol, Tanya, Michael and Jason. It was clear that the group had "coupled up," Carol and Jason together and Tanya and Michael. Jason and Carol were always quipping, sharing good-natured barbs and generally giggling, lending a bit of looseness to the entire process. Tanya, the truly talented dancer, and Michael, with his serious demeanor, formed a nice balance. By now the routine had changed somewhat; it would be performed to the tune of two pieces: "Notre Dame Fight Song," from a performance of the Boston Pops, followed by "Swan Lake." "That's powerful music," commented Jason. The choreography called for Corey to enter the stage wearing a football uniform, obviously too big for his slender body. As the music got moving to second chorus, he'd try to run as a halfback would, looking weak and ineffective. Then he'd try to pass the football off stage, but it would wobble, coming out from his girlish motion. He'd pout a bit, and from the wings, suddenly the football would be tossed to Corey, who fought it off, looking very girlish, and, of course, dropping it. He repeated this three times, each one showing his pathetic athleticism to comic extremes. The playing of "Notre Dame Fight Song" would end, and Corey then would suddenly stand in a quandary for about ten seconds, pondering his fate, when suddenly, the "Swan Lake" song would begin. It was Corey's cue then to brighten up, smile broadly, and in great theatrical motion, slip off his loose-fitting football jersey and pants, exposing himself as a ballerina, tutu, white tights and ballet shoes. With a flourish, he'd throw off the helmet to show a lovely hairpiece wrapped in a ballerina's hair net. He now was a lovely swan, so feminine and graceful. With his twirl en point the music ended, but Corey would remain for several seconds more, expressing his joy at performing as a girl so exquisitely. Corey danced as Odette, the lead in "Swan Lake," and the choreography had been simplified for him to remove the more athletic parts which a novice ballerina would be incapable of performing. It was the same part that Tanya was dancing in the school ballet, only Corey's dances would emphasize beauty and grace, while Tanya would be using her athletic talents to their fullest extent. All four persons applauded and yelled as he finished the rehearsal. "Don't overdo it," Tanya warned several times. "Just a hint of trying to catch a ball like a girl is fine." Corey realized he was developing a comic routine, and in the final rehearsal, his antics got them all laughing. "Do it that way Thursday and you're in," Tanya said. Carol gushed, "Oh Corey, you do that with such a light, flowing manner. You do it with great delicacy and passion." "I'm a horse compared to our sweet Corey, here," Tanya said with a chuckle. There was an extra yell, as well, this one from Pang Xiong who was arriving to begin her piano rehearsal. "Wow, Corey, that's tremendous. You do that with such grace," Pang said. Corey had trouble responding. He was out of breath, but finally managed, using his voice in its feminine register. "Thanks, Pang." "I'd love to play while you dance. We'd make sweet pair," Pang said. Corey responded now with an elegant curtsey. They all enjoyed a few giggles. It was such a delightful moment to see two such bright, cheerful young ladies sharing a moment of common joy. Could Corey ever feel more happiness than he felt now, coming through the sweetness of his girlhood? "Why do I feel so scared about this?" Corey asked Tanya, as they rode to Beverly's, the classy hair salon. Tanya was driving her red Ford Mustang, a gift from her parents when she passed her drivers' test. Just riding with Tanya was a new experience for Corey, whose life largely had been centered in the working class Foundry Town neighborhood. Tanya's family may have been one of the wealthiest in town, as shown by the car and Tanya's always classy clothing; yet, she was about as open and down-to-earth as any girl in school. If there was any "snob" in her, it came about through her intelligence and artistic tastes. "Oh Corey, Beverly's nice. Mom told her about you, and she's cool about it." "I must thank your mom for arranging this," Corey said. "We could never pay for it on our own." "Why you scared then?" "Oh Tanya, it's just that I'm going into a place that's strictly a woman's place; I've never been to a beauty parlor. All those women: they'll stare at me, think I'm weird or something." Tanya laughed. "Oh you've never been to Beverly's. You'll not be in the midst of lots of women. Everyone has nice private area." "Oh." "Besides, Corey, you've spent the whole school year with us girls in the ballet class, and you've become just one of us. We don't even see you as a boy." "I know, and you girls have even changed in front of me, as if I was a girl. You've all been so supportive." "Enough of that," Tanya said. "Here we are." There was valet parking for Beverly's, which was on the city's only truly fashionable street. The establishment had a shiny glass and burnished steel exterior, opening into a large reception area, featuring glass topped tables, and overstuffed leather chairs and sofas, tactfully placed flowers and soft music. A striking slender brunette, dressed in high style, greeted them. "Good afternoon, Miss Hodges," she said, recognizing Tanya immediately. "Good afternoon, Hilary, hope you're doing fine today." "Oh yes, Miss Hodges. Let me take you and Miss Sanders to Beverly now. She's ready for you." Corey reddened with the reference, "Miss Sanders," but felt so pleased with it. Corey had changed into a skirt and blouse after school, wearing tan sheer pantyhose and flats. His strawberry blonde hair flowed loosely about his shoulders, brushing the top of the ruffled blouse he wore. "You're right Tanya, everything is so nice here, and private, too," he said as they walked down a wide hallway, in which separate styling booths were formed with partitions that were in colorful plastics up to five feet, with a glass on top, giving an open, yet private atmosphere. "So this is our girl!" exclaimed a tall, elegantly dressed woman with close cropped hair. "Yes, this is Corey Sanders, and, Corey, this is Beverly." "Let me look at you a moment, Corey," Beverly said. "Turn slowly for me, will you, dear?" Corey presented himself, posing as he imagined a model would. Apparently, he did fine, as he turned about slowly, for neither Tanya nor Beverly seemed to giggle. "Honey, you're beautiful girl," Beverly said. "Let's see what we can do to make sure you are the prettiest girl and should be prom queen." Corey was astonished that they were treating him totally as a girl, without any strange comments or condescending remarks. Tanya explained that Corey had to be given a simple hair style for Thursday night's competition and then a truly smashing style for the Saturday night prom. It was already determined that Corey would have his hair prepared for Thursday now and then he'd return Saturday about noon to had his hair fixed for the prom. "What are you wearing Thursday for the competition, dear?" Beverly asked. "It's a..." his voice cracked just a bit, and then quelling his excitement, he continued in a low, almost sultry tone, "It's a navy blue junior dress, with just spaghetti straps or the shoulders, and running down to mid-thigh." "Oh lovely, with your blonde hair, that's beautiful," Beverly added. "Thank you. I hope my hair isn't too fine." "It is a bit, but we'll fix that." As she worked on Corey, she opened his blouse a bit, to free up his hair. "Oh dear," Beverly said. "You have a prettiest shoulders. I'm so glad you'll be having those showing." Corey blushed, realizing how feminine his shoulders and arms were. Tanya interjected, "And she'll be wearing a bare-shouldered gown on Saturday, too." Tanya explained the gown would be red, with straps crossing the bodice. The dress would be full and floor length, with a high belt. Beverly agreed Corey had picked out truly classy outfits, which showed his femininity to it fullest. They viewed a number of ideas for his hairdo for the prom, finally settling on a rather fussy piling of his hair at the top of his head, with a single curl streaming down each side of his head. "Beverly," Tanya said so excitedly. "She'll be ravishing." They decided that Corey hair for Thursday would be straight, parted in the middle, and bobbing inward at shoulder level. Corey will be able to wear his hair freely during the day, and then brush and spray it, just before the competition. Beverly showed Tanya how to fix it. "She'll look like Jessica Simpson," Tanya said. Corey thanked Beverly for her work, and willingness to fix his hair as a contribution to the school's prom queen event. "Corey, my darling, it was joy working on you, making an already pretty girl a bit more lovely," Beverly said. As they left the shop, Tanya suggested stopping for tea at a shop in the neighborhood. "I think you look so pretty now," she added. "Tanya, I can't thank you enough," Corey said, giving her hand a squeeze. Teenaged girls usually didn't go to "tea shops," but Tanya said that Corey looked so classy that it would be a good experience to go to a fancy, elegant place. "You think I'll be OK there," he asked Tanya. "Oh honey, you will." And Tanya was right. A middle aged gentleman approached the door as they were about to enter, and he moved gracefully in front of them, opening the door, smiling at them. "There you go, young ladies," he said. Corey noticed the man's eyes lingered a bit longer on Corey, as he said: "Hope you girls have a nice day." Corey couldn't resist giving a little turn of his hips and replying, "Thank you, sir." When they were seated, Tanya whispered to Corey, "You're a shameless flirt. You better watch out." "I was just being polite," Corey replied, flicking his hair in a provocative manner. "That guy is still looking this way. He's got his eyes on you." Corey had to turn around and look; sure enough, the man, a tall, handsome, graying man in a dark blue suit, looking every bit a stock broker or big executive, was looking their way. Corey gave him a slight wave, and he nodded his head in return. The man reddened, and waved back, turning to his newspaper. He no sooner did that, than a woman, obviously his wife, arrived and sat opposite him. Tanya watched, reporting to Corey, that the woman was berating the man about something. "Obviously, she saw him eyeing you," Tanya said. "She's giving him hell now." "Oh, I shouldn't do that, but I so love being a girl and being admired. Is that bad?" "Well, don't get too big-headed, Corey, but it's normal to feel that way." Tanya put her hand on top of Corey's, and the two looked at each other, and Corey began feeling a strange closeness. Tanya was such a generous person, so warm and open, seeming never to want anything for herself, but always helping someone else out. Yet, Tanya was the most talented dancer in the school, very athletic and poised, besides being an "A" student with a chance of being valedictorian next year. "Tanya, you're so sweet to me. You've helped me out in so many ways and now today by getting Beverly to work on my hair." Corey felt like saying more, about how close he felt to Tanya, but he stopped himself. Yet, Tanya, too, appeared on the verge of saying something, but held back. The two looked at each other a moment more, and Corey wondered, just for a second, how it would feel to be nestled in the arms of the other girl, not as boy and girl lovers, but as two girls. He shook the thought from his head; it was too strange, and even gross, to think about. "Corey, the fact is you really are one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen," Tanya said. "I should be jealous, since I hardly ever get a boy to ask me out." "Oh Tanya, you have so much to offer any boy, you're just the sweetest person." "But, I'm not pretty." Corey was about to protest, but Tanya cut him short. "Don't say anything." They both laughed. The truth was that as talented as Tanya was as a dancer, she did not have a pretty face; it was a bit to broad and angular, and maybe a bit boyish. Her athleticism, too, may have frightened some of the boys off. "I'm glad you're going with Michael to the prom," Corey said. "He's been so sweet to me." "I'm glad he asked me," Tanya confessed. "Us ballet girls usually don't seem to get many boys to ask us out. No one else had asked me." "Oh Tanya, he's really a fun guy. You'll enjoy him." "Corey, I didn't mean that as it sounded. He is. He really is very nice. Many kids pass him off as a nerd, but he's smart, and funny, and he's kind of good looking." "Oh, I know you didn't," Corey said. "We'll have fun prom night, regardless who's queen." "I know. We've all enjoyed working on your campaign. You've brought together Jason and Carol and now Michael and me. And it's all due to you." "Tanya, that's nice to say, but you're all cool. And Michael's lucky to have you as his date, too. You're both special people to me." It was time to go, and Corey led the way out, purposely walking slowly past the table where the man and his wife watched with open discomfort. Out of the corner of his eye, Corey saw the man try to sneak a look as they passed, but his eagle-eyed wife had him cowed into nothing more that a snippet of a glance. "Now Corey, that's enough of that. You're such a tease," Tanya said outside. "That poor man will be in trouble with his wife for a week." "Sorry, Tanya, you're right. I shouldn't become such a flirt. That's being slutty." Tanya smiled. "But, I think the guy deserved it, eyeing up a high school girl, while he's got a nice wife." Tanya drove out of her way to drop Corey off at his house. All the way home, Corey played with his hair, feeling so girlish as he did so. They sat for a minute in Tanya's Mustang talking, and as Corey opened the door to leave, Tanya leaned over and gave Corey as quick kiss on the lips, and saying, "Enjoyed doing this with you, Corey. See you tomorrow when you'll knock 'em dead in the competition." "Thank you, Tanya, for the ride, and everything." "You go girl. Bye bye." And she drove off, leaving Corey to wonder. Was that a sisterly kiss? It seemed to be more than that, but was it? Corey remembered the strong, but momentarily, attraction he had felt for her at the tea shop, and what appeared to be Tanya's similar feelings. Corey didn't feel an attraction to her, however, as a boy would for a girl, but as a girl. Oh, what was happening? He was so confused. Ronnette and Rachel were there with his mother. They all went "oooooooooohhhhhh" when they saw his hair. "Corey's hair!" said Ronnette. "My sister is more pretty than ever." "And she looks like Jessica Simpson," Rachel sounded off. The two girls and their mother applauded, and Corey did a quick pirouette, followed by an exaggerated curtsey. Reality set in quickly. Corey had studying to do; besides he had to rehearse his speech for tomorrow's competition. He went to his room, stripped down to his panties, removed his bra and the stuffing, and put on tight girl shorts and a tank top to begin his evening's work. About an hour after supper, he called Mark, inviting him over with an excuse to see his new hairdo, but in reality, he just wanted to see Mark, to hold his hand, perhaps, and maybe even to kiss. He wondered whether he wanted to see Mark just to reinforce his feelings toward Mark, since his troubling encounters with Tanya was now adding more confusion. "Lynn's home," Mark told Corey. "My sister'd love to see you." "Oh yes, bring her along." Corey was overjoyed; Lynn had been his earliest confidante in his road to girlhood, and was so understanding and so sensible. He was fearful, though, that Lynn may not approve of the high class styling that Beverly had done. Lynn carried a strong dislike for the wealthy families in the city, families like the Hodges, Tanya's parents. The families of Foundry Town had always struggled so to make ends meet, and now with the foundries closed, which Lynn blamed on the greed of the rich and their corporations, the community was changing from a solid working class neighborhood into one with growing poverty and dysfunction. Corey need not be concerned, for when Lynn saw the styling, she gushed, "Oh Corey, you're hair is darling. It suits you so fine." "I'm so happy you like it," Corey said, hugging Lynn, and then giving Mark a kiss on his cheek, as a girl friend does to her boy friend. "Mark told me how beautiful you've become, and he didn't exaggerate. You're every bit as pretty a girl as I thought you'd be, but even more so." Mark stood at Corey's side, beaming at him, now holding Corey's hand, which felt so slender and soft in his gentle grip. "I told you, sis," Mark said. "She's as pretty as I said." Corey said nothing, but looked coyly at Mark. Then he moved himself closer, their bodies touching, and Mark's arm encircling him. "Corey, this is unbelievable. I only see a girl when I look at you." "It's kinda scary, Lynn. I am still a boy, but I feel so much like a girl. Am I really a girl?" "To me you are," Mark said. "She feels like a girl in my arms; she acts like a girl." Corey was so pleased to hear that. If he's a girl, and he's love with a boy like Mark, that would be normal; but for two boys to be in love, that would be a different matter. "Well until prom night, at least, you're a girl, Corey," Lynn said. They looked at the dress Corey was to wear in the competition. He explained that Tanya would brush and fix his hair according to Beverly's instructions when Corey would dress for the competition, which was held in the last hour of classes. Corey and the other contestants would be excused from the class just before to be given time to change clothes and get ready. "If you win," Lynn began to say, but was interrupted by Mark. "What do you mean? If she wins? Who's prettier than Corey, Lynn?" Lynn laughed, "Ok, because you two are going to be king and queen of Carney High's prom, I'm going to come as well. And, my date will be another of your boy friends." "What? Who?" Corey asked. "Dennis. I asked him to escort me to the dance. Alumni are welcome to come." Corey looked at Mark, wondering whether he knew Dennis had met Corey while he and Lynn were shopping at the mall and had asked Corey for a date, thinking he was a girl. "Yes, sis told me all about Dennis. I'm not worried. You're my girl. He's too old for you, anyway." They all laughed. "I don't blame him for asking you for a date," Lynn said. "He really thought you were a girl." "Well, she is," Mark said. That night, sleep came slowly, even though he was dead tired. When he did drift off, he was soon awake, recalling the excitement of being in a beauty salon, of being told how pretty a girl he was over and over, of attracting the lewd looks of a prosperous middle aged man, of Tanya's warm touches and kiss, and of Mark and Lynn's genuine view that he was going to win as prom queen. Then there followed the fearful anticipations of the coming days, of the uncertainties he felt over performing before the entire school next afternoon, and of parading before everyone as a girl. Mixed in with those immediate thoughts was the direction his life was going. He was headed into being a female. That meant living the rest of his life as a woman. Is that what he really wanted? He didn't feel he had slept at all that night as he mulled over so many questions. Suddenly, he was awakened as his mother entered his room at 6 a.m. and said, "Time to get up princess." Where had the night gone? Now, it was morning and a new day was ahead of him, a day full of both high anticipation and overwhelming fears. Was he going to be able to survive this day? Both Pang and Corey had decided to use the ballet room as their dressing room in preparation for the competition that would begin in 7th Hour before the entire school of 1,100. Partitions separated the two and they both had a friend helping them with dressing and makeup. "Are you scared too, Corey?" Pang asked, speaking over the partition. "Oh, Pang, yes," he responded, feeling his teeth chatter a bit. "You'll do fine, Pang, if you play as well as you do here." Pang laughed: "That's a big 'if'. And, so will you. You dance so great and you're so pretty." Tanya interjected, "Enough of this. Let's make ourselves pretty." She began massaging Corey's shoulders and arms, gently, adding "This'll help calm you now." Corey seemed to melt into the gentle massaging by Tanya. "Thank you, it feels so good, Tanya. You're touch is so gentle." "You are really so lovely, Corey. Your shoulders are so pretty." He was in his navy blue dress with its spaghetti straps and ruffled bodice. Tanya and Carol had suggested that Corey wear breast forms, but he had argued that would be unfair to the other girls. He didn't want to fake any part of his performance. They finally agreed that the ruffled bodice would somewhat accentuate the breasts he didn't have. "Ballet girls don't have breasts, anyway," Tanya had said, laughing. "Except for you," Carol said, referring to Tanya, whose strong upper body did have fuller breasts. The competition involved three parts: first, the girls would walk a runway, showing their poise and mannerism; secondly, they would give a brief speech as to why they thought they would be best to represent the school as queen, and, finally, the talent portion. The boy who nominated them would give a brief statement as to why they chose the particular girl and then would introduce her. Each part of the competition counted as one-third of the score, and three judges, all former queens, would comment after each one's performance, similar to the format on "American Idol". Then the members of the junior class would cast their ballots for the winner; it was a secret ballot vote, and great precautions were taken to assure there was no fraud. For Carney High, this election was one of the high points of the school year, and the winning girl would also receive a $1,000 scholarship toward college or trade school. "This is such an honor," Corey had said. "I really don't want to win it under false pretenses. So, no fake breasts." Corey still felt like an interloper in the competition, in spite of the fact that his nomination had survived all steps in the process. He was, after all, still a boy, even though he was so feminine and was being considered as a "girl" by just about everyone. He was constantly being referred to in the feminine gender, such as "she" or "her", and it excited him to be so considered. "Oh, why wasn't I born a girl?" he asked under his breath. He vowed to be totally feminine as he competed today, and to be considered the prettiest of all the pretty girls. "Oh you're so beautiful now," Tanya said as they prepared to leave for the stage where they would await the call to walk down the runway. "Don't overdo that walk. Be natural, honey." Corey took one last look in the mirror, gently brushing his hair, which hung down to his shoulders, framing his face symmetrically. He felt comfortable that the ruffles across his chest hinted at the breasts he didn't have and that his soft, smooth exposed shoulders and arms gave him an appearance of a girl. He began suddenly to feel so at ease with himself now, as he walked down the hallway to the competition for Prom Queen of Carney High School, feeling so much a lovely girl. (To be continued)