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Tony's Family By slimv Synopsis: This is a complete story about a 13 year old boy named Tony who becomes Toni and the relationship he has with his family. It's rated 'G' - no sex. It does contain smoking (of course). I hope to write a sequel to this story called "Tony's Friends". I can still remember the looks on both my parent's faces when they came home early from celebrating their anniversary and found me on the couch, dressed in my mother's nightgown. I hadn't expected them back for at least another couple hours. My little brother had spent the night at his friend's. I'd been planning that night for more than a week, but I hadn't planned on my mother getting sick and my parents coming home early. But there they were, standing in front of me. And there I sat, lipstick and blush, smeared across my face, nowhere to run- nowhere to hide. Before that summer, I had been like most boys my age, playing football, throwing rocks at birds, chasing after girls. I'd always been a good student. I was active in our church. I was my parent's pride and joy. My little brother looked up to me. The neighbors adored me. Everyone thought of me as the perfect All-American boy, the kind of boy every parent wanted for a son. So what had gone wrong? The truth of the matter was that nothing in my life had gone wrong. I'd just gotten careless or unlucky. I'd been dressing in my mother's clothes since the age of eight. But that night in the living room was the first time I'd been caught. I wasn't a sissy by any stretch of the imagination, and if you'd called me one I would have popped you in the nose. I was a just a normal boy who enjoyed dressing in his mother's clothes and parading through the house, acting like a girl. What's normal about that? Nothing! I wasn't proud of it. I was ashamed, which is why I'd always gone to such great lengths to hide it. I had tried to stop at least a million times, but I could never stop for long. I finally convinced myself that I wasn't hurting anyone so long as no one ever found out, but they had found out. I'd been caught. I sat on the couch bawling, refusing to answer my parent's questions. Explaining myself would've only made things worse. Summer had just started. My situation was embarrassing enough, but if I said the wrong thing, I could very well wind up spending my entire vacation locked in my room. "I can't deal with this right now," said my mother. "We'll talk about it in the morning, before your brother gets home." My brother! What would Randy say if he found out? Surely my parents wouldn't tell him. I was his big brother and he practically worshipped me. My parents turned their backs on me in disgust, leaving me to wallow in my self-inflicted misery. I prayed that no one would ever find out about that night. Please God, let this stay between my parents and me. I removed my mother's nightgown and tossed it in the clothes hamper and scrubbed the make-up off my face before climbing into bed to stare at the ceiling. I was too afraid to sleep. I wished my parents had ended it by announcing my punishement. That would have been better than worrying about it. I didn't sleep a wink that night. ****** When I came downstairs the next morning, I found my parents sitting in the kitchen. They were drinking coffee and my mom was smoking a cigarette. I was greeted with silence. Judgment day had arrived. "Have a seat," said my father. "We need to talk about last night." I took a seat at the table and crossed my hands over my lap. "I know last night wasn't the first time you wore my clothes," said my mother. "It's happened before. I never said anything to you and I didn't tell your father until last night. I thought it was a phase, something you'd grow out of. I didn't want to worry him and I didn't want to embarrass you, but it's not a phase and from what I've read, you're not going to grow out of it. You are what you are and we'll deal with it. You're father and I still love you, but we can't allow you to sneak around and do what you're doing. It isn't right. Getting into my clothes and make-up is an invasion of my privacy and I won't allow it anymore. That nightgown you took, the one you threw in the hamper the last night; I don't want it anymore. It's yours. I'm giving it to you." "But Mom! I don't want it. I'll never do it again. You have to believe me," I pleaded. "Shut-up and listen to your mother," said my father sternly. My mother reached under the table and removed the nightgown that had been on her lap and laid it on the table. "From now on," she said, "you will not take anything of mine without asking. If there is something of mine you like, you may ask to borrow it and I'll think about it. I would prefer that you had your own things and left mine alone. So if there is anything you want, just ask me, and I'll buy it for you." I started to argue with her. The things she was saying were scaring me. I had come to the kitchen expecting to be punished. I didn't want her support. Support meant being exposed and that was the last thing I wanted. My dad cut me short. "Under the present set of circumstances, your mother and I feel it would be for the best if you moved out of your bedroom and let Randy have it for himself. "We were thinking you could move into the basement," said my mother. "Your sewing room?" I asked. "It needs some fixing up," she said. "But there's a bed down there and it will give you more privacy to do the things you need to do without exposing Randy to it. A lot of my old clothes are down there too. I don't wear them anymore so you're welcome to anything you like. Of course I know they're not in style, but I can buy you some clothes of your own later." A part of me wanted to scream no. Another part of me was excited beyond description. My parents were giving me permission to be a girl in private. "I'll help move you in while your father picks up Randy." ***** My mother and I moved things from the bedroom I shared with Randy down to the basement without talking. The silence was uncomfortable. I wanted to tell her that it wasn't necessary but I couldn't. "The door has a lock on it and I want you to use it while you're doing whatever it is you do when you wear my clothes. I don't want Randy seeing you." I nodded shamefully as I helped her hang some clothes in the closets that made up the walls. The sewing room had served as both an attic for my mother's discarded clothes and a guestroom for visitors, as well as for its intended purpose. "Look what I found," she said as she pulled a box from one of closet shelves. "These belonged to your grandmother," she said as she pulled out a pair of rubber breasts. She explained to me that they were called breast forms and my grandmother had used them after her surgery for breast cancer. "You can have them if you like," she said as she laid the box on the bed. "Your grandmother always said that wearing them felt like the real thing, and I guess she would have known. Can you think of anything else you need? We can go to the store later if you do." I shook my head no. The last thing I wanted to do was continue my shame by going to the store with my mom to buy girly things. "Let me know if you change your mind." She kissed me on the cheek and took a step back. "I know you're embarrassed. We all are. But we'll get used to it in time, and someday it won't seem like such a big deal. I understand honey. I really do. I've read a lot about cross dressers." "What's that?" I asked. "Cross dressers are men that enjoy dressing up as women from time to time. They can't help it sweetie. They're addicted to it, the way I'm addicted to cigarettes. It's not your fault. You were born this way. I was thinking that maybe we could talk to a doctor about it. I'll make an appointment for you first thing Monday morning. I think it would be for the best to get a handle on this before school starts. Don't you think?" I didn't know what to think, so I just nodded and gave her a hug. "Thanks for not being mad," I said. ****** The rest of the day went as well as could be expected. My parents told Randy that I had moved into the basement and he was getting a room to himself. The thought of sleeping alone in the room bothered him at first, but my parents convinced him that it was an opportunity for him to show them what a big boy he'd become. My dad shot me some strange looks, or maybe I was paranoid, but I found it hard to look at him that day and for the most of the following week. Mom on the other hand was exceptionally nice. Randy was his self, oblivious to everything going on between our parents and me. Before going to be, Mom asked me to go to her room with her. I was thinking she was going to give me a lecture, but I was wrong. It turned out she just wanted to give me some things she wasn't using any more. While I sat on the end of her bed and watched, my mother rummaged through her dressers for old panties. She laid them on the bed and went to her closet. "These shoes should fit you," she said as she picked up a pair of sandals from the closet floor. "And this purse too," she said as she unhooked it from a hanger. Was I supposed to thank her? I didn't know, but I did. I picked up the purse, the sandals, and the panties and carried them down the stairs past my father, who shook his head in disappointment as I walked by. I was the furthest thing from proud as I entered my room with my mother's hand-me-downs. I sighed as I spotted the nightgown that had started it all. It sat folded neatly on my bed, waiting for me. A blonde wig lay beside it. I recognized it as being from a costume my mother had worn at Halloween party. I'd been searching for that wig off and on for the last two years. A lot of good it was doing me at the moment though. Dressing up was the furthest thing from my mind. All I wanted to do was go back in time and make it so that none of this had ever happened. I picked up the nightgown and put it in my dresser drawer, under my tee-shirts. I didn't want Randy finding it, not that he'd have a reason to go through my dresser. But supposedly I hadn't had a reason to go through my mother's dresser either. Thinking about it made me cringe. What kind of a mess had I gotten myself into? Why were they being so nice and understanding? This is too good to be true, I thought as I looked around the room. Maybe it's some kind of trap and they're waiting to see what I do. If I don't do anything, maybe they'll forget about it and everything will go back to normal. But if I keep dressing and they find out, then maybe things will get worse. Maybe that's when the real trouble will start. But still, it would be kind of cool if all this was for real and it wasn't a trap. I picked up the wig and ran my hand against the blond flaxen strands as if I were petting a longhaired cat. No harm in putting it on, I thought. If Mom and Dad are waiting outside the door to catch me, I can always take it off. It won't be like last night. I checked the door to make sure it was locked. Not bad, I thought as I looked in the mirror. My hair grew fast and it had been months since my last haircut, but it would take close to year for it to grow as long as the wig. I took it off and put it on my closet shelf and turned my attention to the purse. It was really nice and I wondered why my mother didn't use it any more. I picked it up and noticed how heavy it was. I wondered why she hadn't emptied it when she changed purses. My curiosity was peaked so I dumped the contents of the purse out onto the bed. Pretty cool, I thought as I rummaged through the stuff. I found two Bic lighters, a half a pack of Benson & Hedges Menthols, a compact and a wallet with money still in it. I picked up the pack of cigarettes and studied it. I'd never smoked in my life but had always wondered what it was like. Being an athlete, I had never seriously considered it. And I'd grown up hearing my parents preach the dangers and evils of smoking. Once, when I was younger, I remember asking my mom why she smoked. She laughed and said she did it to stay sane. She said I'd smoke too if I were a woman. "Your father is the one that goes to work and earns the money, but my job never ends," she said. "I'm a wife and a mommy 24 hours a day. I love it, but I need the cigarettes to get me through my day". She winked at me. "Besides that, your father thinks I'm sexy when I smoke." I was kind of young, so the things she said went over my head. But as I stared at the pack of cigarettes in my hand, the memories of that day began to make sense. Being a woman isn't as easy it looks, I mused, and I ought to know. I know what you're thinking. I should have thrown away the pack of cigarettes or at least put them back in my purse and forgotten about them. But I didn't do that. I understood that my mom smoked to ease her stress. So if it worked for her, then maybe it would work for me. I was definitely stressed over everything that was happening. I remembered my mother often smoked when she sewed and it didn't take long to find the ashtray sitting on the sewing machine. I got up off the bed and sat down at the sewing machine with my mother's cigarettes and lighter. I didn't weigh the consequences of my actions. I just lit up. It was awful at first. Anyone who claims his or her first puff of smoke was like heaven is feeding you a line. It made me cough and hack. The mentholated smoke made my lungs feel simultaneously burned and frozen. My determination to finish the cigarette was fed by a nicotine buzz and my strong desire to feel better. What can I say? It worked. I put out the cigarette and slept like a baby that night. ***** I woke up kind of late the next morning. I wasn't looking forward to leaving my room. The thought of things that awaited me made me nervous, so I eased my stress with a cigarette. Afterwards, I threw on some jeans and tee-shirt before going upstairs. My mom was in the living room watching the Today show. We said good morning and I kept my distance so she wouldn't smell the smoke in hair. She said that dad had gone to work and Randy was still sleeping. "So how did you like your new room?" she asked. "Did you sleep well?" "Yeah," I said. "Pretty good, I guess." "Did you find the gown and purse? I left them on your bed." Once again, I wasn't sure if I should thank her or just acknowledge that I had found the wig and gown. "I did, but its not like I really need or want them. I don't need any of the stuff you gave me. I'm okay, really, I am. I'm a regular boy, you know. I just made a mistake and I'll never do it again." "Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. Maybe you can't help your self. That's why I made an appointment for you to see a doctor. His name is Dr. Richt. He specializes in adolescent sexual issues. It just so happens that he has a cancellation today and he can see you." "And if he says I'm okay and it was just a mistake, then we can forget about all this?" I asked. "Absolutely," said my mother. "What about Randy? Is he going with us?" "No. I called Zach's mom and he's going to stay with her while we're gone." ***** My mom and I arrived for my appointment fifteen minutes early, which gave us time to fill out the paperwork. She filled out the easy stuff, like my name and address, and social security number. I watched as she whizzed through the section on the diseases I never had. She knew exactly what medications I had and hadn't taken. She paused when she got to the part about tobacco use. The question read, "Does the patient smoke cigarettes?" My heartbeat raced. She started to mark the 'no' box but stopped short. I felt a lump rise in my throat. Oh my God, she knows, I thought. "Is today the 16th or 17th?" she asked. "The 16th," I said with some hesitation. "That's right," she said as she filled in the date at the top of the page. Immediately afterwards, she checked the 'No' box for smoker and flipped the page. I breathed an audible sigh of relief. Things got trickier from that point on. There was one section where we were supposed to describe the reason for the appointment. I watched as my mother wrote a few sentences about my dressing in her clothes. I was embarrassed and asked if she would erase that part. She looked at me as if I were crazy and went on to the next section about relationships. I cringed when she marked the box called "Uncertain" next to sexual orientation. After completing the patient interview, she got up and returned the clipboard to the receptionist who told us to walk through the door. I followed my mom and the receptionist down a hallway. She led us into a rather plush office and told us to have a seat in the chairs positioned in front of the desk. She placed the clipboard with my file on the desk and told us Dr. Richt would be with us in a minute or two. She left the room as a tall man in his early fifties walked in with his hand extended. He and my mother shook hands first. I gave him my best manly grip as he took my small hand in his. He sat down behind his desk and asked us to sit down. He picked up my chart and thumbed through it before laying it back down on his desk. "You're blushing," he said. "There's no need to be embarrassed. I meet at least five boys like you every day. It says in your chart that you're thirteen and you're parents came home and found you wearing your mother's nightgown and her make-up. You're mother also wrote that it isn't the first time you've been curious about her things." So began the most embarrassing interview of my life. I actually thought I could talk my way out of it, but Dr. Richt had met a lot of boys who had tried to talk their way out of it. He was a professional and he was good at his job. He asked me questions that caught me off guard and made me think. He observed the expressions on my face as well as my words. He kept my mother in the loop and asked her to confirm or deny my statements. We talked for two hours. There was a moment or two when I thought I might have won. Perhaps I would walk out of his office with my manliness intact. Maybe he'd tell my mother that it was all a mistake and that I was a normal boy who had just made some bad decisions. All those thoughts and wishes came to an end when he asked if I had a female name picked out for myself. I shook my head no and my mother answered for me. "His father and I were thinking about still calling him Tony, but spelling it with an 'I' instead of a 'Y' at the end. "I think that's a good idea," said Dr. Richt. "It will keep things less confusing." Dr. Richt noted my nervousness and tried to put me at ease by saying things like it wasn't my fault and no one was angry. He told me that my parents loved me and I was luckier than most boys who visited him, because my parents were supportive. I nodded as he spoke. He explained that every male has both a masculine and a feminine side and that my feminine side was strong and that it would be a mistake to ignore or suppress it. He congratulated my mother for everything she and my dad had done so far; saying most of his patient's parents were not as supportive or foresighted. We talked about my little brother, my friends, our neighbors, my school, and our extended family. He said that I would develop a stronger sense of self-esteem if I were allowed to express my feminine side to the people in my life. The idea of people I know seeing me dressed as a girl scared me to death but Dr. Richt tried to assure me that most of the fear was in my mind and most people would be supportive once they learned the truth. "The truth about what?" I asked. "The truth about which side of your personality, the feminine or the masculine, is strongest," said Dr. Richt. "No one can make me dress like a girl if I don't want," I said firmly. "You're absolutely right Toni," said Dr. Richt. "No one can make you dress like a girl if you don't want to dress like a girl. But here's the rub. You do want to dress like a girl. You've felt this way all your life and you will continue feeling this way for the rest of your life. If you don't give into it, it will consume you. It will ruin your life unless you come to terms with it. It might not happen next week, but it will happen, and when it does, not only will it destroy you, but it will destroy those closest to you." "Think about it Toni," said Dr. Richt. What's going to happen 10 years from now when you get married to a nice woman and have a kid with her? You're not going to tell her but she's going to find out, and when she does, a lot of people are going to get hurt." "Hiding your needs isn't going to help you or anyone else in the long run," said Dr. Richt. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking you're secret is the worst thing in the world, but I'm here to tell you its not. But keeping your secret is the worst thing. This is something you need to be open about- with your family, with your friends, and with strangers you meet." I was shocked. I was sitting there listening to every word the doctor said and I was asking myself how he could say such things? How can he sit there and ask me to out myself in front of everyone I know? "I think Dr. Richt is right," said my mother. "If you're going to do this, then I don't want you hiding it any more." "Fine. Then I won't do it anymore," I said boldly. "He'll do it again and again," said Dr. Rich to my mother. "He can't help it. It's in his nature." Dr. Richt focused on me and said, "I know this is traumatic for you and I'm not suggesting you start living your life as a girl today. I think you should ease into it. Take advantage of the room your parents gave you and dress appropriately when you're in it. Ask your mother to buy you some magazines like "Seventeen" and "Glamour". Watch a few of those movies that women refer to as 'chick flicks'. Talk to your mom about the topics daughters discuss with their mothers. Maybe you could ask her for make-up tips and advice about boys. It's important that you develop a strong infrastructure for your feminine side. So Toni, I'm not saying you have to do everything today, but it would be in your best interest to make a start. And your mother needs to give you a push if she sees you're dragging your feet. Sometimes the best way to learn how to swim is to jump in the water." "Is Toni gay, Dr. Richt?" asked my mother. "Are you asking if Toni is sexually attracted to boys, or are you asking if he is gay?" "I'm confused. It's the same thing. Isn't it?" "Not necessarily," said Dr. Richt. "I don't know Toni well enough to put a label on his sexual orientation. The only thing I can say with certainty is that Toni is life-long cross dresser and he has a very strong feminine side. Dressing like a girl or even becoming a girl in the physical sense will have no effect on his sexual orientation. However, I will tell you that the majority of my patients who go on to live their lives as women full time, date and marry men." I sat motionless while my mother spoke up. "Should he alternate between dressing as a girl and a boy, or do you want him to dress exclusively feminine?" "He can have a week or so to adjust, but then I want him to dress as a girl for the rest of the summer. I can't stress how important is for Toni to make a public statement in regard to his femininity. In other words, he needs to face his family and friends as a girl. Once school starts, he can resume dressing as a boy if he wants, but it would be in his best interest to mix it up a bit." "And what if he decides he likes being a girl?" asked my mother. "Then he should be one," said Dr. Richt as he scribbled on a tablet of paper. But it has to be his decision. I'm writing Toni a prescription for female hormones. Even though Toni has a feminine side, he has a male body that will continue to grow more masculine if we don't retard the male testosterone being produced by his body. "Hormones?" asked my mother. "Aren't they dangerous? What if we find out Toni is happier as a boy? Will the hormones hurt him?" "They won't hurt him, as in make him ill. But with continued use or an increased dosage, they will permanently feminize his body. He'll develop breasts. His hair will grow faster. His hips will widen. His skin will soften. He'll notice a reduction in facial hair. And it will prevent his voice from deepening." "I'm prescribing a dose of one pill a day. That is the maximum dose he can take for a period of three months without permanently damaging his male body. I'm not suggesting he should take the pills at all, but I want him to have them available at his disposal, so he can make up his own mind. If he does decide to take them, it is imperative that he quit taking them after three months if he wants to terminate the feminization. Of course that doesn't mean he should stop cross- dressing. The cross-dressing will be a life long issue for him." "What would happen if he accidentally took two pills in the same day Dr. Richt?" asked my mother. "Nothing. But if he were to purposely take two pills a day for say a month or so, it would speed up his feminization and the effects would be permanent." Dr. Richt asked if either of us had any more questions as he handed the prescription to my mother. We didn't, so he wished us luck and told us we could pay the receptionist on the way out. ***** We left Dr. Richt's office and got in the car to go home. Mom lit a cigarette and put the pack on the console between us. I could have killed for a cigarette after the doctor visit, but I did my best to ignore the pack. On the way home, my mother turned into a strip mall parking lot. I asked her why we were stopping. She said the nail salon did piercing and that it would be a good idea to get my ears done. I argued that I didn't think it was a good idea. She reminded me of what the doctor said and softened it by telling me that lots of boys get their ears pierced and that I'd just be getting a unisex starter set. She said no one would even notice and if they did they would think I was cool for getting my ears pierced. Her logic made sense. An hour or so later, I was on my way back home with two new holes in my head and a vial of pills in my pocket. The rest of the day was pretty calm and went as expected. Randy went bonkers over my earrings and asked if he could get his ears pierced too. My parents told him they'd think about when he got a little older. Later that night, after Randy went to bed, I kissed my parents good night and went downstairs to my room and locked the door. I undressed and took my mother's nightgown out of my dresser and pulled it over my head and felt the silk fall to my feet. All the while, I kept telling myself that it was okay and I wasn't doing anything wrong. My parents told me I could do it. Dr. Richt as much as said that I had to do it. Regardless of the rationale behind my argument, I still felt guilty as I took the blond wig from the closet and draped it over my head. I thought about using the breast forms, but decided against it, not knowing how to really put them on. The gown and wig were good enough for the moment, I thought as I looked at myself in the mirror. Honestly speaking, I would have looked better with make-up and breasts. But the wig did a lot for me and I looked very much like a girl. I liked what I saw and my penis liked the way I felt. It grew large against my gown and jutted out like a stick, ruining the illusion, but I didn't care. I was very happy and very excited. As I looked in the mirror, I could see my mother's purse sitting on the nightstand. That reminded me that it was time for a cigarette. Up until then, smoking had been something I'd done to ease the stress of my situation. I'd always made a conscious decision to smoke, but this time I felt compelled to do it. I thought about that as I lit up and wondered if I maybe I was getting addicted to them like my mother. The idea of being addicted to cigarettes at such a young age scared me. I wasn't scared because of the health issues. I was scared because my mom and dad would skin me alive if they ever found out. Thankfully, I had just lit the last cigarette in the pack. It was over and done after this last one I reasoned. Ahh, but it did feel good, didn't it? I caught a glimpse of my satisfied expression in the mirror as I exhaled. Keep in mind that I was only 13. I was a just a kid playing around in his mother's clothes. I wore them because they made me feel feminine. I smoked the cigarettes because they eased the pain and fear of getting seen in the clothes. But this was different. It felt different and it looked different. I studied my reflection in the mirror as I struck a feminine pose with my cigarette. I didn't see a boy in his mother's clothes. I saw a woman- a woman like my mother, enjoying her cigarette. I felt so grown up and feminine. I took another puff and inhaled my mentholated epiphany. I was still scared of what the future held for me. I didn't know if I was gay or straight. I was afraid of what my friends would say when they found out. I didn't want my brother to know. But eventually everyone would know. And when they did know, I would be free. I finished my cigarette and crumpled up the empty pack. I knew I'd need more, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. I took off the wig and put it in the closet and pulled back the sheets of my bed. I opened the vial of hormones and swallowed two pills. Of course I'd have to take two pills a day for a whole month before I passed the point of no return, but that moment was symbolic for me. It was my way of telling myself that I was going to do it. I was going to be a girl. ***** The next couple weeks were uneventful, except for the fact that I made the most out of them while dressed as a boy. That meant playing football with my friends and talking about girls. It crossed my mind to tell them what I was doing in my bedroom. Hey guys! Guess what? I'm going to be a girl! Of course I didn't say anything remotely like that. But thinking about it made me realize just how hard it would be. They did notice my starter earrings though, but they didn't think anything "sissy" about them. I wondered what they would say if they knew the truth. They were pretty nice guys, but still, they'd have to think it was pretty weird. Hell, I thought it was weird and I was the one living it! So how could I expect them to understand when I didn't understand it myself? I guess that's what Dr. Richt meant when he suggested easing into the transition and adjusting to it. I'd taken two pills a day ever since that night in my bedroom. It wouldn't be long before I'd need a refill. Mom would know then. She'd know and that would be okay. And then everyone would know because I wouldn't be able to hide it. And that would be okay too. That would be good. Thinking about my friends seeing me dressed as a girl stressed me out so much that sometimes I'd just tell them I was going home to use the bathroom. I did use the bathroom, but I also smoked a cigarette in my room with the door locked. I didn't know why, but smoking seemed to relax me as well as excite me, especially when I was dressed. ****** Four weeks had passed since my visit with Dr. Richt. Doubling the dose had depleted my pills. If I wanted to do this, I'd have to tell my mom about the pills and ask her to get me some more. She'd never even seen me dressed, except for that time in the kitchen. I knew she supported me but she didn't know what she was supporting. She and Dad had given me space. They had no idea what I was doing in the basement. They didn't know what I was thinking. I remember waking up on a Tuesday morning and finding one pill left in the vial. I swallowed it and smoked a cigarette to charge my nerves. I put on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, shoved the empty vial in my pocket, and went upstairs. Mom was sitting at the table drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. The cigarette smelled good. She looked at me and said good morning, but instead of looking back to her coffee, she kept her eyes fixed on me. It made me self-conscious. I knew I had pillow hair and I figured she was staring at it. Dr. Richt said my hair would grow faster with the hormones and it had. I pushed the hair out of my eyes and told her I knew I needed a shower. "It's not your hair," said my mother. "Its your chest. I can see your nipples through your tee-shirt. Oh my God honey! You need a bra." "Really," I squeaked? "I do?" "The pills? How many have you been taking?" I pulled the empty vial from my pocket and placed it on the table. "Two a day." Mom shook her head and blinked. "Oh honey. I don't know what to say. Sit down. We need to talk about this." I took a seat beside my mother and we talked about what I'd done and what it meant. It took a little effort on my part, but I eventually succeeded in convincing her that it hadn't been an accident and I'd taken two pills a day on purpose. "So this is what you want?" asked my mother. "You're sure?" "I think so." "Uh-uh Baby! 'I think so' isn't good enough. This is one of the most import decisions of your life. You have to be sure." "That's not what I mean. I am sure. I'm just scared." "Scared of being a girl or scared of what people will say when they find out?" My lips trembled. My eyes watered. I felt a lump rise in my throat as I shook my head. "What am I going to do Mom?" I lost it and she put her arm around me and ran her fingers my hair. She said it would be okay. I told her about my friends and how I tried to tell them but couldn't. I told her about Randy and how I was afraid he'd hate me when he found out. "He's your brother and he loves you," said my mother. "Randy could never hate you." "What about Dad?" "Your father and I have always known this was a possibility, but we had to let you tell us your self and you have. He'll be okay with it. I promise. Your father loves you. We all love you." "So what do we do now?" I asked. "Well for starters, I'd say we better buy you a bra and get your prescription refilled." I wiped my tears and nodded yes. "What about Randy? How are we going to tell him?" "I guess we could get you all dressed up and introduce you to him as his new sister." I shook my head no. "I don't want to spring it on him like that. Dr. Richt said we should do it kind of slow." "You're right. I know! We can take him shopping with us. He needs some new clothes for school anyway and so do you." "You mean like dresses and skirts and things like that?" My mom kissed me on the cheek. "That's exactly what I mean Princess. When school starts in the fall, you'll be the best-dressed girl in your class, and the prettiest too. All the boys will be fighting over you!" Hearing my mother talk like that overloaded my brain and sent the blood rushing to my face. I had just gotten to the point where I could think of things like dressing in public. Hearing my mother say the words was mind blowing! We were going shopping. Randy was going with us. He'd see. He'd know. That was bad enough, but it was what she said about boys fighting over me that sent me into panic mode. Mom immediately noticed the change in my expression and made the connection. "I'm sorry," she said. "Did that embarrass you about what I said about the boys?" I semi-shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, it kind of did." "You're thirteen," said my mother. "That's about the age when boys start noticing girls and girls start noticing boys. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's a very normal feeling. As a matter of fact, I'd think it was strange if you didn't have feelings like that." "But why did you say it like you did? You know. Like the boys are going to like me and I'm going to like them." "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to suggest you're gay but its okay if you are. You're father and I love you unconditionally. We just want what's best for you. We want you to be happy. So do you like girls?" "Yeah." "Do you like boys?" "No. At least not the way you're talking about." "Are you sure?" "Of course I am!" "Okay," said my mother, as she threw up her hands in gesture of surrender. "That's fine with your father and I. We hope you meet a nice girl someday and the two of you settle down and have a family. But don't you think it might be difficult to find a nice girl that wants to marry a nice girl like you?" Her rationale hit me like a ton of brick and I began to see her point. "I want to be a girl but I don't want to be a fag and date guys?" "Okay," said my mom, "then be a girl, and date a girl, and just pretend to be a lesbian. The world is a big place. I'm sure you'll find a girl that will love and accept you just as you are. I'm just saying she'll be hard to find and you might not ever find her." "So what am I supposed to do?" "Try keeping an open mind," said my mother. "Love is where you find it honey. It doesn't matter who you love as long as that person is your best friend in the world. Your father is my best friend." "My best friend is Bill Dickerson. I can't marry him!" My mother nodded calmly. "Okay, lets use Bill as an example. Why can't a boy like you grow up to marry a boy like Bill Dickerson?" "For starters, he's a boy and I'm a boy. That's a good reason." "That's not a good enough reason," said my mom. "Men fall in love with other men all the time, and believe it or not, it actually makes sense. Men have so much in common with each other. Think about it. You both love sports. Most women get irritated when their husbands run off and leave them to play a game or watch a game, but you'd understand, because you've been there and done that and enjoyed it. And think about the sex! When it comes to sex, most men are clueless as to what makes a woman feel good, but it wouldn't be that way for you and Bill. You have a penis so you know what feels good to you. You'd be able to use your experiences to make Bill feel good and vice versa." I didn't like what she was saying, but I had to admit she made sense, but it still didn't mean it would work and I told her so. "Even if I wanted to be with Bill, I couldn't because Bill isn't gay. He wouldn't want to be with me." "Maybe. Maybe not. But Bill Dickerson isn't the point. The point is for you to keep an open mind so you don't miss out on the love of your life regardless of whether that love is male or female. True love always finds a way sweetheart. And there is something else you need to consider." "What's that?" I asked. "You are a very cute boy and you're going to be a very cute girl. Whether you like it or not, boys are going to notice you and they're going to be attracted to you. You're going to have to learn to deal with their affection whether you want it or not." Again she had a point. "Okay, so I'll ask the question again. What am I supposed to do?" My mother put her hands on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes. "It's real simple Toni. Enjoy being a girl and keep an open mind. That's all you have to do." I took a deep breath and exhaled away my anxiety. A cigarette would have helped more, but I wasn't ready to cross that bridge with my mom. ***** I took a shower and changed clothes before we went to the mall. I put on some jeans and chose a loose fitting Polo shirt to conceal my budding femininity. I was feeling very nervous about shopping in front of Randy, but the cigarette I smoked before taking my shower had eased my angst a bit. On our way to the mall, we stopped by drugstore and refilled my prescription. Mom told Randy that the pills were a special kind of vitamin and he was never to take them. She told them they were only for me and he watched as I swallowed two pills in the car. I didn't know what to say when he asked if I was sick. Mom answered for me and told him that I wasn't sick but that my body was going through some changes and the pills would help me. He seemed satisfied by her answer and we talked about college football teams while Mom drove us to the mall. Randy isn't a clothes hound, but he appreciates clothes more than most boys his age, as long as the pants are Levis and they're blue. The first store we stopped in was Macys and we headed directly for the boy's department. Randy stood straight and patient as mom held Levis and Polos against his frame, measuring the fabric against the length of his body before putting them in the cart. It took less then twenty minutes to fit him for school, including the cotton briefs and socks she bought him. "What about Tony?" asked my brother. "Aren't you going to buy some clothes for him?" "Of course I am," said my mother as she pushed the cart into the Junior Miss department. "But all they got here is clothes for girls," argued Randy. "I know that," said my mother. "But they will fit Toni better. You probably haven't noticed, but his body is starting to change. Don't you see? His hips are getting wider and you can't see it because his shirt is loose, but his chest is getting bigger." Randy shot us both a confused look, but he wasn't arguing. Mom picked up a pair of low-rise designer jeans and held them up to my waist. They were jeans and maybe from a distance they might be mistaken for unisex jeans but the tag said Jolt, a name most girls in my school would recognize. "I think these will fit nicely," said my mother, as she put them in the cart. Randy didn't notice, but Mom slipped some Baby Phat skirts into the cart as well. The same thing happened when Mom picked out a JLO skirt and Cami. I wondered if he thought our mother was shopping for her self. But all bets were off when Mom picked up a Ruby Rox baby doll dress and held it up for him to see. It was a full skirt with spaghetti straps. Mom asked Randy what he thought of it and he said it was pretty. She asked him if he thought it would look good on me and his eyes widened. "You're getting that for Tony?" Mom looked at him as if he'd said the silliest thing in the world. "Of course I am. Didn't I just tell you his body is changing? Toni can't wear boy clothes any more. He's going to be dressing more like me from now on." "Really? You mean he's going to start dressing like a girl?" "Yes he is, and I don't want you or your little friends making fun of him either. Or else you'll be wearing dresses too. Do you understand?" I think the threat about him having to wear girl clothes set him in his place and he nodded his head. But he was still curious. "Does this mean he's going to be like my sister instead of my brother?" he asked. "Of course it does Randy. Your brother is turning into a girl, that's what his vitamins are for, and that's why you're never to take them." "Really?" "Yes." "Does that mean he's going to be kissing boys and things like that?" "It might," said my mother. Randy blinked and I swooned from the head rush. It was all out now. Randy knew. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't completely convinced our mother was telling him the truth, but he was accepting it for the moment. "Okay," he said. The rest of our trip went smoothly. Mom and I dragged Randy through the mall as we shopped for me at stores like Victoria's Secret and Abercrombie. Mom was buying out the mall and we'd need Randy's extra hands to help carry our purchases to the car. We spent all day at the mall. Randy was ragged with exhaustion, and I was dying for a cigarette. It was late by the time we got home so Randy went straight to bed. I on the other hand had to stay up and talk to my father. The conversation went better than I expected. As it turned out, my parents had always wanted both a son and a daughter. In an odd way, I was the answer to their prayers. He hugged me and told me he loved me. Before I went to bed, my mom told me that she wanted me to try on the clothes tomorrow so she could take the ones back that didn't fit. I hoped they all fit and told her so. She told me that she was glad I liked them and asked if I was up to going out in public dressed as a girl. She reminded me that my hair was in need of styling and she'd like to get my nails done. I quivered with a mixture of fear and excitement as I closed my eyes. "Ok," I said. She seemed genuinely pleased with my willingness. She kissed me on the cheek and told me she was proud of me before saying goodnight. The first thing I did when I got to my room was to lock the door and light a cigarette. I'd gone almost seven hours without a smoke and it had been hard. I surveyed the shopping bags in my room and went about the task of putting my new clothes away, admiring them as I did. ****** I would have liked to have a cigarette when I woke up, but Mom was standing over me with a sense of impatience. She said I needed to take a bath and shave my legs and armpits before she could help me get dressed. My first time shaving was a brutal experience. My knees were covered with nicks and my armpits felt scorched from the razor burn. Mom said I'd get better at it with practice and gave me some lotion to sooth the burn. She told me that she'd sent Randy out with my father, so we had the house to our self. I appreciated that, because even though Randy knew, I didn't want him nosing around while I was still getting used to things. I covered up my penis with a pair of silk panties and let mom look at my bare chest. She said I was starting to blossom and I wouldn't need the breast forms. "They're already too big to hide," she said. "It's a good thing we bought you a bra. By the looks of things, you'll need a bigger cup size when you start school." She grinned and shook her head. "The girls in your school are going to hate you." I didn't understand, until she explained that girls my age are as obsessed with breast size as much as boys are. "They'll be envious and jealous," she said. "Big breasts are a good thing," she said as she helped me into the push-up bra that accentuated my cleavage. Mom gave me a pair of hose and explained that even though I had shapely legs, it was always best to wear hose when wearing a skirt or a dress. While I put on the hose, she picked out the colorful Baby Doll dress from my closet and a slip to go beneath it. She complimented on how the dress hugged my curves as she zipped it up from the back. If it wasn't for my unkempt hair and lack of make-up, I would have looked gorgeous, but as it was, I looked good. I knew it and mom knew it too. She had me stand in the light so she could put my make-up on. She warned me to stay still as she applied the eyeliner and told me that if I wanted to, I could get my eyeliner permanently tattooed as she had done. "A tattoo?" I asked. She smiled and said yes. "It's convenient but its forever. We can do it today when we get your hair done if you like. You can think about it and let me know when we get there. It's perfectly safe." "I guess a tattoo would be pretty hard to hide if I changed my mind," I said. "Those will be hard to hide too," she said as she pointed at my breasts. "It's a commitment." "Okay," I said. "Lets do it." "Are you sure?" she asked as she rubbed some blush against my cheeks. "Yeah. I am," I said with a note of self-doubt. "Its just that I'm really scared about this Mom." "I know you are honey. Your father and I are scared too. But its what you want isn't it?" "It is what I want. I don't know why I feel that way but I do." We talked about my life as a boy and how I had felt about it. We talked about what I would be giving up and what I expected to get in return. I had liked being a boy and we both knew that. Sneaking around and playing dress up in her clothes had been exciting and fun, but this was different. This wasn't playing any more. This was for real. "I love this dress mom. I love all the clothes you bought for me yesterday and I want more." "I know you do Princess." "I want to wear them all the time, not just when I'm in my room." "I understand that Toni. I really do. You like feeling pretty and wearing pretty things. I do too. But wanting to look and feel pretty is so much different than wanting to be a woman." "I know that mom, but I like it a lot, and if I do this then I can do it all the time. I'll have to. I won't have a choice." "But being a woman is so much more than wearing pretty clothes and make-up honey. I'm not saying its bad because it isn't. I love being a woman, but it isn't easy and it will be so much more difficult for you than it is for me," she said as she lit a cigarette. "Are you sure you still want to do this?" "I am Mom. I want to be a girl and be your daughter." "Oh Princess," said my mother as she hugged me. "Mommy loves you so much. We're going to have so much fun together. Let's get going now. Don't forget your purse," she said as she pointed toward the nightstand. ***** I had a feeling by the way my mother described it that our trip to the salon would take a lot of time, but I had no idea it would take the entire day. The first thing we did was to get my eyelids tattooed like hers. As far as I was concerned, there was no going back after that. Even if I didn't wear a dress, my friends would see my eyes. They'd ask what it was and I'd have to tell them. If I made up a lie, my growing breasts would betray me. I didn't want to go back. I wanted to go forward. Our next stop was the hair stylist. My hair hung well past my collar, but it was a mess. The lady, that did my hair, trimmed away the split ends and styled it so that no one would think I was a boy. She also shaped my eyebrows into a very feminine arch. I thought we were done after the hair cut, but my mother insisted that I get my nails done. The lady that cut my hair said that Marge did nails and she could take me right away. I'd never had a manicure before and it felt awesome. And Marge didn't stop at my hands. She gave me a pedicure too. I walked out of the salon with a beautiful hairstyle and long red talons. "You look fantastic," said my mom as I nervously walked beside her with my purse thrown over my shoulder. "Thanks, but you're not just saying that, are you? Cause I still feel like a boy. What if someone sees me?" "Look around Toni. Everyone sees you and they like what they see. You're gorgeous. Even the older men are staring at you. I'm not saying I like it, but I don't blame them. If I hadn't given birth to you, I'd think you were at least eighteen years old. So don't be surprised if an older boy asks for your phone number today." "What should I do if that happens?" "That depends on whether or not he's cute," she giggled. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. What do you say the two of us ladies grab some lunch?" Mom and I decided on Ruby Tuesday's. As we walked she gave me some pointers on my stride and gait. She described the motion as fluid femininity and explained the proper way to sway my hips when I walked. By the time we made it across the mall, I had the swing of things, but realized I still needed practice. According to her, and she wasn't being mean, walking wasn't the only subject I needed practice at. She said I needed help with my mannerisms, the way I moved my hands when I talked and how I crossed my legs when I sat. She said all these things and more would come with practice and that I just needed to develop some confidence. She thought it would help if I handled things at the restaurant by talking to the hostess and ordering lunch for myself. It doesn't sound like a big deal, but until that day, I had never tried to pass myself off as female to anyone other than my self. The hostess was a young woman in her early twenties. I took a deep breath and remained calm when she asked if we were meeting other people. I told her it was just the two of us. She asked if I preferred smoking or non. My mother thanked me for my consideration when I answered 'smoking'. The waitress led us to a table and gave us two menus. Mom and I sat down and she immediately rifled through her purse looking for her cigarettes. She found her pack, but it was empty. "Darn," she said as she crumpled up the empty pack of Benson & Hedges. "I smoked the last one back at the salon. I could have sworn I brought an extra pack." I thought about the pack I'd stolen from her the day before. I still had five or six cigarettes left. I considered telling her about them. I knew she'd appreciate it, and I could always tell her they were in the purse when she gave it to me. But then I'd lose them, and I'd have to steal another pack when we got home. I suddenly felt selfish. I needed those cigarettes but so did my mother. How could I even think of keeping them from her after all she'd done for me? "That's Okay," I said as I reached into my purse and removed the pack of Benson & Hedges and a lighter. My mother kind of gasped. I couldn't tell if she was angry at the thought that I might be smoking or relieved that she wouldn't have to wait any longer for a cigarette. She took the pack and lighter from me and lit a cigarette for her self and pushed the pack and lighter back across the table toward me. "Thanks," she said through her exhale. "I needed that. Care to join me?" she asked playfully. "I just hate smoking alone. Don't you?" I was scared out of my mind and I thought about blurting out that she had left them in my purse when she gave it to me, but that would have been a lie, because I had smoked those up a long time ago. This was just one of the many packs I'd stolen from her over the summer. And then I saw the smile on her lips and I thought about the tone of voice she'd used. She wasn't angry. She was playing. Maybe I should play too. It was just a game. I could play along and get a couple puffs in and feel better at the same time. "Absolutely," I said nervously as I picked up the pack and lighter. "I hate to smoke alone too, but a woman has to do what a woman has to do," I said as I lit the cigarette and tried to inhale like the beginner I wasn't. "A woman does indeed," said my mother, as she exhaled gracefully and cocked her wrist, aiming the tip of her cigarette upwards into the same feminine smoking salute I had mastered in front of my bedroom mirror. My mother was about to say something, but the waitress interrupted us by asking for our order. I was hungry and wanted a hamburger and fries, but I got the feeling that I should order a house salad with dressing on the side, like my mother, so I did. "Nice choice," she said as she finished her cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. "I was so afraid you were going to order something heavy. Of course smoking will help keep you thin, but you'll still have to watch what you eat." "That's why I ordered it," I said as I finished off my cigarette as ladylike as possible and crushed it out. Was my mother still playing the game or did she really think I was a smoker? I scanned her face for any sign of disapproval or angst but saw none. Just to be on the safe side, I slid the pack across the table toward her. "Thanks. That was a fun game. I enjoyed playing it." My mother slid them back toward the middle of the table. "It stopped being a game as soon as I saw you inhale. A little girl that was playing a game with her mommy would have coughed her head off. You don't smoke like a little girl honey. You smoke like a woman." She saw the fear on my face and told me to relax. "I'm not happy about this but I'm not angry either. Tell me the truth Princess. When did you start?" I told her about finding the cigarettes in the purse she gave me and how I stole more from her when I ran out. "I don't understand. Why did you try it in the first place? You know what a terribly unhealthy and addictive habit it is. I've warned you about it a million times." I described the stress I was feeling over dressing up in front of Randy and my friends, and being a girl in public. I also told her that I remembered her saying that smoking helps her when she's stressed out and I wanted to see if it would help me. "So does it help?" asked my mother. I nodded that it did. "Okay then. It's settled," said my mother. "I'm giving you permission to smoke. We'll stop on our way home and buy you a carton of your own. You're right about the stress. This would be a terrible time for you to try to quit." "But Mom! What about Dad and Randy? I can't smoke in front of them." "Of course you can Princess. I smoke in front of them all the time. They're use to it." "But it's not the same thing Mom. You're a woman and I'm a 13 year old boy." "Believe me honey, you gave up being a boy as soon as you swallowed those pills and put on a dress. And you gave up being a little girl when you took up smoking. You're a woman now, just like me." "Do you really think so?" I asked. "I know so," said my mother as she picked up the pack and lit a cigarette for her self before handing it to me. ***** True to her word, my mom stopped by the store on the way home. Before going in, she asked what kind of cigarettes I wanted. I didn't know what to tell her because I was still in a state of shock and had never really thought about it before. She just laughed and said she'd surprise me. She returned several minutes later with a bag under her arms. "The Benson & Hedges are mine and the Virginia Slims are for you," she said as she put the bag on my lap. "What's the difference?" I asked. "Not much, to tell you the truth," said my mom. "Yours taste about the same as mine and they'll give you cancer just as fast. But people think they're more feminine and glamorous because they're made just for women. I'd prefer you didn't smoke Princess, but since you do, I want you to look your best while you're doing it. You're going to look very pretty and elegant with your Virginia Slims." "Thanks Mom! You're the best," I said as I ripped open the carton and opened a pack. "Open me a pack too and don't forget to put a couple extra packs in your purse. ***** I was real nervous about Dad and Randy seeing me dressed and made over, but Mom wanted to make a big production out of it. She told me to wait in the car until she called for me. So I sat in the car and finished my cigarette while Mom prepared Dad and Randy for my grand entrance. I had just finished my cigarette as my mother's hand beckoned me from the front door. It took all the strength I could muster to open the car door and sling the purse across my shoulder. Walking up the sidewalk to the porch felt like a stroll down death row. My mother held the door open as I stepped inside. Dad and Randy were sitting on the couch; their mouths wide open as Mom yelled, "Ta-Da!" I watched as Randy tugged on our father's sleeve. I heard him ask if it was really me. Dad told him it was. Randy gasped and jumped from the couch. "Tony! Tony! You're so pretty," he yelled as he ran up to get a closer look at me in my dress. "And you got bumps like Mommy, but they're not as big. Do they hurt?" I knelt down on one knee so that we were eye to eye. "No honey. They don't hurt. Do you really think I'm pretty?" Randy nodded enthusiastically. "Are you mad at me for doing this?" I asked. "No. But I think its kind of weird. Dad told me you'd be different when you got back. But I didn't think it was going to be like this." "Do you still love me?" Randy wrapped his arms around me in a big hug and I struggled to keep my balance as I hugged him back. I whispered in his ear. "Thank you," I said. I caught a glimpse of my father and looked up to see him towering over the both of us. I took his hand and let him help me to his feet where I would face him for the first time as his daughter. His eyes were clouded with tears. I didn't know what to say, so I hugged him. I felt his arms encircle my body as he hugged me back. "You're beautiful," he said. I thanked him with a kiss on his cheek. He took me by the hand and led me to the couch. Randy sat across from us. My mother sat next to my father. "I still can't believe it," said my father. "It seems like just a couple of weeks ago, we were playing catch in the front yard and talking about your trying out for the football team when school starts." "We can still do things together," I said. "I've never had a daughter before," said my father. "I don't know where to start." "Well my father use to take me bowling," said my mom as she took a pack of Benson & Hedges from her purse. "We had the best time, just the two of us," she said as lit her cigarette. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows as she exhaled. She was signaling me to tell my father about my smoking. I swallowed hard and reached for my purse. "Dad, there's something I have to tell you and I don't think you're going to like it." "Oh really? Well at least I know you can't be pregnant." He turned to my mom with a curious look on his face. "He can't, you know, get pregnant?" My mother shook her head no. "What is it then honey? You can tell me anything." I looked over at my mom who was nodding her head. I looked over at Randy who had been quietly sitting in his chair watching the moment unfold. I stuck my hand inside the purse and found the open pack of Virginia Slims. I pulled them out for my father and Randy to see and said the words I never thought I'd hear myself say. "I started smoking Daddy." My father blinked. My brother gasped. "Are those real cigarettes like Mommy's?" asked Randy. "Yes they are honey," said our mother. "And you're never to touch them. Do you understand?" Randy nodded as I removed a long white cigarette from the pretty green and white pack. My father was clearly stunned. "I don't know what to say," he said. "I never would have thought you would have taken up smoking in a million years. Of course I never would have thought you'd be sitting in front of me in a dress either." He turned to my mother for clarification. Mom nodded and handed him her lighter. "Your daughter needs a light honey. Why don't you offer her one?" My penis stiffened beneath my dress as the man who had commanded me never to smoke lit my cigarette with a heavy heart. I was petrified and excited at the same time. My father was a good man and a good dad and I loved him with all my heart. I relived a thousand memories in the time it took for me to exhale a cloud of smoke in his face. I respected him more than any man on this planet. As a boy, I had yearned for his acceptance. I had lived to please him and make him proud. I had been such a good son. I remembered those times when he and my mom had left for the night and I would sneak in his bedroom and steal my mother's nightgowns from her dresser. It had been so exciting, so terribly taboo! My worst fear imaginable had been that I would get caught and he would see me in my mother's clothes. I had masturbated to thoughts like that. Of course I never really wanted to get caught. It was just a fantasy. What would Daddy say if he saw his manly little boy prancing around in Mommy's clothes? What would his face look like? Of course I knew the answer to that question. For as long as I live, I will never forget the disgusted look on my father's face when he came home with my mother to find me decked out in her nightgown. My wonderful fantasy had turned into a real-life nightmare. I swore that if I managed to live through that night, I'd never do it again. My thoughts returned to the couch and the long cigarette between my fingers and the sad look on my father's face as he struggled to breath through my cloud of smoke. I didn't look like a clown with my mother's make-up scattered across my face. I was dressed to the nines and was made-up perfectly. I stared admiringly at my long red nails and the lipstick stain on the filter of my feminine cigarette. I shifted on the couch and felt the silky panties caress my balls. I threw back my head and felt my long hair as it swept across the back of my neck. "Thanks for the light Daddy." "You're welcome Princess," he said as his trembling fingers laid the lighter on the coffee table. I saturated my