Zoe's Girl - Chapter Two - Inquiry free porn video

Zoe's Girl Chapter Two - Inquiry The light hurt my eyes. It was so bright and must have been shining on me directly. I squinted my tearing eyes and blinked several times trying to get them to focus. Finally I was starting to see things. I was in the living room, at my house. At first I couldn't remember what had happened. Everything was such a blur. But when I reached up to brush my long bangs off my face it came crashing back to me. My hands had pink fingernail polish on them, and my bangs... I tugged on them a little, they had been curled some and they had pink highlights streaked in them. I patted my head gently running my fingers up to the top of the crown. My hair was tight and bound back. I finally reached the two high pigtails adorned with a large ribbon on each. I knew I couldn't let Mom and Dad find me... Too late. The thought of Mom and Dad was enough to jog my memory. Mom and Dad had come home, just after I'd woken up in the den. Before I could get over the little girl I appeared to be dressed as they had walked in on me. I had been so enraptured by the site of my panties in the mirror I'd laid on the floor that I wasn't paying attention. 'My panties?!' I thought to myself. "You are losing it Martin!" I chided myself. "Zoe!" I said her name, silently, like a swear word. Zoe had set me up. What was it that she slipped in my kool-aid that made me black out? And why did she bring me home dressed like some frilly sissy girl?! I wanted answers, NOW! I sat up, suddenly aware of the stiffness in my body, and the sharp stabbing pain sitting up caused. I groaned in response to the pain before I could stop to think about being quiet. "Oh you're awake sweetheart?" My mother's voice came from somewhere behind me. "Momma?" I asked, sounding scared. "Yes, dear, I am here," she said with the classic motherly soothing tone. "Your father is out right now, so just take it easy." "But Momma..." I was scared and found myself wishing she wasn't in the room. I knew my tone had conveyed as much, betraying my wishes to hide my feelings at the moment. "I've had a look at you already, while you were asleep there." Momma started to reply, "And I must say, you did go all out on this, didn't you?" "Zoe," I began to explain but something gave me pause. "Zoe helped you?" Momma interjected when I'd paused. "How sweet of her." "She is the one that..." I began to blurt out. "Wait, sweet?" I asked, shaking my head sharply in very short jerks. "What do you mean 'sweet of her'?" I inquired. "It was nice of her to help you do it right, I mean," Momma answered plainly. She, by now, was coming around the side of the couch and had just sat down next to me. "It isn't easy to tie such a pretty bow in the back of a dress like this." Momma said, running her hands along the hem of my dress ruffling the multi-layered petticoat that made the skirt stand outward more than hang downward. "But Momma," I slowly forced the words to come to my lips as her hand gently brushed my knees, still encased in the tight material that the tall stockings were made from. "Aren't you angry or mad at me?" "For what, dear?" She looked me square in the face and asked me so straight forward I couldn't help but feel ashamed of myself. She must have seen the sinking feeling I was experiencing in my face because I didn't have time to truly turn away when she gently braced my chin on her other hand and kept my head held up so that I was looking directly at her. "Don't be afraid of me," she said softly. "And I don't hate you for this." She sighed, not the kind of resignation sigh that signaled defeat or that one was giving up. This was more of a patience and thought- gathering sigh that had me hanging on the fringes of each passing second waiting for her to speak again. It may have felt like a long time, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds that passed before she continued. "I think you look adorable. And to discover that you went through all this trouble to explore your thoughts and self-image like this is a wonderfully brave thing. I am glad to see that you have this kind of confidence to do something like this, especially with the girl you've had a crush on for years helping you." "Momma!" I gasped in surprise. "How did you know I liked Zoe?!" I blurted out before I realized I'd admitted something that I'd been denying to everyone, even myself, for so long. "I mean..." I stammered trying to convince myself I could deny it still, but in the end I gave up. I sighed, one of those resignation types Momma didn't use before, before speaking again. "I do like her," I said meekly. "And this was her doing, her idea." I paused, "Not mine." "Really?" Momma asked me. I looked back up at her, having turned my eyes away only a split second after admitting my lack of originality and control in my appearance at the moment. Her face and speech was full of surprise. "Yes," I said reaffirming what I'd just admitted. "Why are you so surprised?" I asked. "What, you think I secretly wanted to be a helpless sissy girl?" I was hurt and shocked to find Momma would even think for a moment that I'd been a willing participant, much less the originator of such an idea as this ? to dress up as a little sissy girl. "No, not that," she said shaking her head, her expression showing she was deep in thought. "And, for the record, being a girl doesn't make you a sissy or helpless," she said with a hint of defiance and pride. "I didn't mean," I thought a second about how to explain what I'd really meant, but failed to come up with anything, and let my explanation fall short of saying anything. Momma seemed content to let me off the hook. "So did Zoe think up this cute dress-up game then?" she asked. "Sort of." I really didn't want to have to explain how things went down. I didn't really know how everything happened. One minute Zoe was being typical Zoe, next minute she is being flirty and a tease by showing off her panties going upstairs and playfully asking me to follow her. A few moments later I am drinking Kool-Aid that had to be laced with her narcolepsy medication or something because it made me black out... And then I woke up just before she and Dad walked in on me. How would I explain this? "What do you mean?" She wanted to know the details, as I'd feared. "Well," I hesitated, but her glare told me to just 'spill it,' so I did. "Zoe invited me over to play her new Playstation game, as you know, and I went over just after lunch." I let the details slip a little but didn't tell her everything. "We played for an hour or so and then she started to act silly. She was all 'Do you remember how we'd play house and dress-up as kids?' and what- not, then she got all flirty with me." I tried to convey as best I could manage how I was innocent in all this, describing myself as a hapless and helpless victim, but I could see Momma wasn't buying it entirely. By the time I'd gotten to the part where I started to undress in Zoe's room she stopped me. "Wait a minute," Momma interrupted my story-telling. "You mean to tell me that she orchestrated all this and you just went along without protesting?" "I didn't know what else to do." "Oh please." Momma rolled her eyes. "You were hoping she'd get all turned on and you'd get to kiss her, weren't you?" She read me like an open book. "Momma!" I said in exasperation. "Hey, I was a teenager once too, remember?" she said in defense of her accusation. "But go on." I did as she told, and told her the rest ? as best I could remember. "I don't know what happened after that," I finished, recalling the sudden dizziness and sleepiness I'd felt after taking a few sips of that Kool-Aid Zoe'd given me. "So you don't remember cleaning up your room or redecorating?" Momma asked me. "Redecorating?" I repeated, questioning her in return. "Yes, your room." She rolled her hands over one another as she spoke as if the motion would jog my memory somehow. "What do you mean?" I asked, getting to my feet. I winced as the sudden jump to my feet made my head hurt. "You have all these boy-band posters up and the pink chair rail you'd had covered up is uncovered," she said, standing herself, in explanation. "Boy band posters?!" The idea was every bit as disgusting to me as I'd sounded in reply. Momma grabbed my arm bracing me a little as I sped around the corner and reached the stairs on my way to my room. I had to see what she was talking about and I wasn't wasting any time for trivial matters such as balance and footing as I half-ran. "Easy there sweetie," Momma said as I pulled away extending my stride to pull myself up two steps at a time. As I reached the top of the stairs I tried to pivot on my heel and send myself in expeditious manner around the half wall that separated the floor from the opening for the staircase I lost my footing for the hundredth time and fell. I wound up doing a near splits as my trailing leg stepped up off the toes and the leading leg suddenly slipped out from under me at the heel. My groin crashed clumsily into the corner made by the floor and the top of the last step and only my grip in the banister kept me from falling over backwards and tumbling down the stairs into my mother, who was in chase behind me. Momma grabbed me about my hips and helped me get back erect as she came up the stairs. "I told you to take it easy," she scolded me in a passive 'I told you so' tone. "Little girls' dress shoes aren't as gripping as tennis shoes." Momma kept a firm grip on my hand as I walked to my bedroom. When the door opened I was glad she had kept me in her cautious hold all the way down the hall. The bubblegum pink chair rail was once again uncovered and seemed more prominent than the way I'd left the room this morning. Covering the wall space above my bed, and most of the clean space I'd had the room dominated with before, was taken up with pictures and posters from teen magazines of the latest heart-throb boy band singers. Even the ceiling was plastered with teen boys pictures. "What happened in here?" I asked, more rhetorically than inquisitively. "I assumed you'd know," Momma answered. "My clothes?" I said in disbelief as my attention turned to the open closet, which was full of pastel colored dresses. "Yep, all pretty dresses and skirts and what-have-you," Momma said calmly. "Momma?!" I was panicked. I couldn't remember anything about this. Nothing came to mind, and I tried and tried to remember what had happened at Zoe's. As far as I knew the incident there was limited to just this one outfit, and until I realized where I was when I woke up I wouldn't have dared to think it possible that I'd of walked home in anything but my own clothing. "Relax," Momma said authoritatively. "I'm going to call Zoe's mother and see if she knows anything about this. This is way beyond joking." She ran her fingers through my pigtails as she spoke, having an amazingly calming effect on me. Momma escorted me to her bedroom and had me sit on the end of her bed. It was a tall frame bed and I couldn't quite touch my feet to the floor from where I sat. I always hated that about Momma and Dad's bed, but I hated it even more now. Given the little girl appearance of my clothing and hairstyle I felt even more diminutive than usual. "Pamela," Momma spoke into the phone, "It's Karen. How are you this evening?" She paused a little while. "Great, I am glad to hear it. Hey, did you see what Zoe and Martin were up to this morning? Really? They did! And he did what?!" Momma's conversation was starting to worry me. "Well, he was in the most immodest position when Robert and I came home this afternoon and caught him staring up his own dress squatting over a mirror. He claims that Zoe did this to him, against his will." Momma muttered a few 'hmm' and 'uh-huh' responses for a short while before finally deciding we needed to go over there. "Would you mind terribly if I brought Martin over and us two ladies sit these two down and sort this out? Great, we'll be right over. Thanks Pam." Momma hung the phone up and turned to look at me, she had an odd smile on her face. "Well, sweetie, we're going to get to the bottom of this." She paused, taking my hand to escort me out of the room. "Any idea why Zoe would tell her mother that this was your idea?" she asked me as I got my feet securely under me after sliding off the bed. "No, Momma I swear it was her idea!" I pleaded. "It's okay if you really did want to do this." Let that kind of trail off as if baiting me to claim credit for this. "I didn't want to do this, I promise!" I said emphatically. "Okay, relax," she said with enough forcefulness to stop my protesting tone. "I was just saying that if," her tone on 'if' was accusatory and probative at the same time, "That your father and I would be okay with it." "Hmph. I doubt that, Momma," I said with disdain. "I don't think Daddy would be nearly as forgiving or understanding as you are." "Daddy?" questioned my child-like affectionate term for my father. "Are you sure this isn't something you wanted?" She pressed me once more, as we reached the front door. "Yes!" I said, failing to hide the irritation I was feeling over being asked yet again about my desires in this matter. "I don't want to be a stupid girl!" I snapped. "Just because you're dressed like a princess doesn't mean you get to cop an attitude with me young lady!" My mother snapped back, putting the strength of her speech on the end of her reply, fully letting the bite of being called a girl sink in on me. "Sorry," I said meekly. "Let's go," she said coldly, opening the door. My heart sank was the door opened. Right there, just about to press the doorbell button, was my best friend Randy Carlisle. "Hello Randy." smiled, greeting my friend. "What brings you by this evening?" "Hello Miss Stephens." Randy smiled back at my mother, but just momentarily, shifting his eyes off from me just long enough to respectfully acknowledge and reply to her. "And hello beautiful," he said, grinning widely at me. Surely he could tell who I was. He couldn't be that engrossed in the short lace-trimmed dress to fail to recognize his own best friend. "Cut the crap Randy," I said, not trying to hide my identity. "Martin!?" Randy gasped in shock. "Is that...." He paused. "Oh my gawd! I am so sorry." He was stuttering and stammering. "I, I... Um, wow. Now you really do look like a girl!" "Now?" asked, pushing me out the door and shutting it behind us. I felt suddenly exposed and 'on display' when I heard the door shut behind me. The gentle breeze that tickled it's way across my mid thigh was enough to make me feel dangerously vulnerable and self-conscious. "Shut up!" I glared sharply at my friend, rolling my eyes upward to look him in the face as I tilted my face downward slightly. I stomped my foot for effect, but in the dress and with the small heel preventing my entire foot from crashing down at once I didn't get very much into it and it sounded pathetically small and weak ? at least I thought so. "No, don't," Momma said. "Please, Randy, tell me this story. I am just dying to hear it." She shot me a 'Not another word.' look that kept me silent, shamefully so. "Well," Randy looked at me, all but ensuring I'd turn my face away from him which I did, as if he were to find permission or lack thereof to speak. After a delay he realized that there was no help from me, and much to my dismay he continued. "Remember when Martin stayed the night at my house last fall?" he started. "Martin and you stay over at each other's a lot," Momma said plainly. "Can you be a little more enlightening as to which time this was?" Her casual sarcasm was meant as a jest and the wry grin Randy flashed back showed he had picked up on that and would be less likely to hold anything back. Momma had disarmed his apprehensions skillfully. Randy chuckled. "Yes, ma'am. Um, it was the same Katrina had her sleepover for her birthday." Katrina is Randy's little sister. She turned 10 last fall and had a bunch of her friends over for a slumber party following the general birthday celebration with boys and girls. To keep Randy from being a pain in Katrina's party their mother agreed to let him have someone stay the night, if for no other reason than to keep him occupied. For a good while it had worked, until the girls came into the upstairs game room looking for the boys... "Your mom wanted two almost teen-aged boys around with all those little girls?" Momma asked. "Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me. You didn't tease those precious angels did you?" "Angels my aah..." I caught myself from slipping and swearing in front of my mother, but just barely. "Achoo!" I tried to sell a fake sneeze. "Angels!? Whatever!" I said bitterly. "Yeah, well, they weren't exactly angels to us," Randy added. "What could they do to you two?" Momma asked, with a grin and a tone of disbelief. "A lot," I said dryly. "They are demon spawn, all of them." "Martin!" my mother chastised me. "Well he would be the one to complain after what we went through," Randy defended me. "The girls came up into the game room asking for help getting something down from the closet. So, being the nice brother and friend, that we are we went downstairs with them. They wanted us to help them get down some old board game that was on the top shelf. It was way up there, I don't know how they even saw it. I had to use a step-stool to get up there and even then could barely reach it." Momma just nodded occasionally as Randy got into the story. "Well next thing you know they're asking us to move the table apart to put in the extenders." Randy continued, "So all of them could play. This is where the problems started. Martin and I couldn't get the table to separate." "So?" Momma asked. "We worked at it for a while, double checked the levers that locked it together and finally gave up telling the girls it was stuck," Randy said with a defeated tone. "That's when the teasing started." "Don't tell me you're all broken up over some grade-school girls teasing you for not being able to pull apart a stuck table!" Momma scoffed, eying me sternly. "No!" Randy said. "They made a dare, a bet of sorts, with us though. Katrina and her best friend Cindy bet that they could get the table apart and if they did we'd have to be there models for their make over and dress up games that night, all night!" "And you're going to tell me that a dozen little girls pulled this giant table apart?" Momma said joking. "Not only did they do it, but they pushed it back together and made us try again ? as a further bet to redeem ourselves, or else be made to be a girl with them for the night." Randy said with a lot more animation in his expressions and tones than he usually spoke with. "And you took this second wager?" Momma asked, using a tone that suggested we would be stupid or crazy to say yes. Which is what we did say, we had to ? it had been done already. Maybe her tone was properly addressing our state of mind. Clearly we were stupid to accept their terms to any degree, much less these extended agreements we'd conceded to. "We did Momma," I said softly, almost mumbling. "Don't mumble dear," My mother said. "And pick your head up. Nobody likes a gloomy Gus, and you're too pretty looking to walk around moping like that." "Momma!" Gasping I snapped at her. "That's better," she said, ignoring my anger, pleased that I had looked up. I knew better than to let my head dip down again so soon, so I made the conscious effort to keep my face up for everyone to see me; however humiliating it was. "So we said sure, whatever," Randy continued as if the whole interruption of my mother and I speaking wasn't happening. "And lo and behold that stupid table was stuck again!" "You're kidding!" Momma said. "How did they move it?" "Well, we found out later that there was a trick to it," Randy answered. "And we just didn't know how to pull properly on one end before the other. Knowing how to do it made the table easily separated by even two or three of my sister's friends, much less the entire group." "So they made you dress up?" Momma asked snickering. "Sounds like this isn't your first time in pretty skirts." Momma looked at me with one of those 'I knew it' grins. "Yep," Randy said. "They pushed us into different rooms and made us beg them for real clothes to wear, having us say how pathetic and worthless we were as boys and all that crap. Basically they wanted us to beg them to let us pretend to be better humans and to give us girls' clothing to wear and let us pretend to be girls," he scoffed. "As if that made us something better, just because we'd be in skirts!" "Randy, please," I begged him not to go into any details. "Hush princess," My mother shushed me. As I stared agape at Momma, Randy kept on spilling his guts. "I got lucky, Katrina gave me a pair of pink shorts with white lace trim on the end of the legs to wear. Well those with the leggings and a Princess Cinderella t-shirt." "You call that lucky?" Momma asked, obviously begging for the details of what was unlucky. "Yeah, compared to what Martie was given!" Randy laughed. "But even that was nothing compared to what he put on!" "Oh really?" Momma asked, turning her attention back to me with an inquisitive stare. "Yeah!" Randy looked at me, and stopped laughing when he saw the anger in my face. "Cindy pushed him into Katrina's room and told him to put on the outfit on Katrina's bed. Well genius here doesn't put on the basic sun dress. No, he puts on the leotard and tutu-skirt and fairy wings of Katrina's Halloween costume!" He laughed heartily. "Shut up!" I snapped at Randy. "Martie!" Momma scolded me. "Hey, you're the one that pranced around all night in what, four different girly outfits?" Randy teased me. "Four?" Momma asked me, obviously stunned. "Don't remind me," I said to Randy, but he kept on talking. "I doubt you'll ever for get those cute little things!" He started to lose it laughing very hard as we walked, almost losing his footing a few times. "Especially the lace-trimmed panties!" "Panties?" Momma stared at me, her eyes wide open as her mouth. "Why in the world did you?! Panties?!" She stammered out her questions so accusatory that I knew I had to come up with some sort of explanation. "Um, yes," I meekly said, wishing I could just run away. I doubted I would have been able to, even if I tried, given these shoes I had on. "The girls said I would be better behaved as a young lady if I wore them. I didn't have a choice Momma, honest." "You did so!" Randy interjected. "They asked me to wear them, but I said no. You did it because you wanted to get a kiss from Emily!" Emily was the only girl close to our age, being a year younger than me. She was there as something of a chaperon to assist Randy's mom with the daunting task of looking after so many little girls, and two mischievous boys. "You wore panties trimmed with lace like a little princess to get a girl to kiss you?" Momma asked. "Well, they wanted me to wear them," I started to defend myself, "and that was the second pair I put on, because Emily offered to kiss me if I did." "Second pair?" Momma stopped, grabbing my arm gently, but firmly enough to stop me. "Marty, I want you to level with me right now." Her tone had grown deadly serious. "Are you afraid of telling your father and I that you really like these girls' clothes? It's okay, I mean it, if you do. I just don't want to get to Zoe's house to find that you lied to me, because if we do get there and that's what I find out, you're little mini-skirted and panty-clad butt will be grounded for a very long time. And you'll be forced to wear the sissiest stuff I can get you into. I promise you!" Her glare was stern and let me know she meant what she threatened. "Momma, I don't remember what happened with Zoe," I said softly. I had to repeat it when she demanded it, not hearing the first time. "And I don't think I want to be a sissy princess fagot." "Watch your mouth!" Momma snapped at me. "But Momma..." "And just because you like dresses and skirts doesn't make you gay," Momma said. "Well it'd seem pretty gay to me," Randy said bluntly. "Randy," Momma replied before I could, "do you think that your mother would like to hear you making such mean remarks to your best friend? Because I bet she wouldn't and I am pretty sure I could get her to put you in a skirt to make you be nice if I told her what you were doing." Momma's stern tone and rigid face gave me a warm feeling, like a blanket of safety had been wrapped around my shoulders. "No, ma'am," Randy replied with a docile tone. "She wouldn't like it. I'm sorry Marty." He said the apology after a short pause, but I could tell he meant it. "It's okay." I looked at him trying not to grin and seem like a coy girl, even if I felt oddly playful about my situation suddenly. "I knew you didn't mean it, you're a sweetheart." "A what?!" Randy said, looking shocked. "I meant a good friend!" I blurted out. "Enough you two." Momma stopped us. "We're almost to Zoe's house, why don't you two walk in front of me and talk, I need to think about how to talk to Zoe's mother about all this," she said, letting herself fall behind our pace, despite my tiny steps. My stride was short enough that I was stepping two, almost three, times to ease one step Randy made, making me almost skip to keep up with him. More than once he looked at me funny, and more than once I found myself clinging with both arms to one of his to keep from falling. Finally we settled into a slow pace, as he choked his stride back to suit mine, with me occasionally taking his hand to prevent me from falling. We didn't talk much like Momma wanted. I felt humiliated, and the few whispered remarks Randy sent my way were sympathetic and often apologetic. I didn't know why he'd apologize to me, but his sincerity did make me feel better so I didn't protest it too much. "Do you want me to stay with you?" Randy asked as we got to Zoe's front yard. "No I'll be ok," I said. "Actually, this is going to be bad enough as it is," I added after a short pause. "Think I could persuade you to take off and let me just fill you in later?" "Sure thing cutie," Randy replied with a wicked grin. He knew that that would grate on me like sandpaper and I knew he knew it too. "Sorry," he said with a more disarming smile. "I couldn't help myself." He chuckled only slightly, seeing my obvious discomfort. "Call me later, okay?" "I will." "Goodbye Miss Stephens," Randy said politely to my mother as he turned to go. "Leaving already?" Momma asked. "Yeah, Marty seems a shy about all this and I think I am making this harder on him," he said adding something afterwards that I couldn't quite hear. "He's a good boy," Momma said coming up to me after her brief exchange I failed to catch. "Yeah, Randy's a good buddy," I said, trying to take away the 'cute good boy, cute innocent girl' impression I felt Momma was saying that with. "You know what I mean," she said with a admonishing downcast stare that pierced through me. "So do you," I said plainly. "Let's get this straight..." I started to speak with force and conviction, for the first time since I'd woken up in front of Momma dressed like this, when the door suddenly opened. Zoe stood there wearing a short jumper that was styled like overalls but cut to be a mid-thigh dress rather than pants or shorts. She wore no tights or socks, just slip on shoes with a flower on the top front of each, a flower that matched the ones on her ponytail rubber-band. "Hi Marty!" she said gleefully to me. "Oh hi Mrs. Stephens," she added seeing my mom next to me. "Please come in. We're just about ready for tea and cookies, would you two ladies like some?" she asked. I winced at her addressing me as a 'lady' and couldn't bring myself to say yes or no. "I would love to," Momma said, "and so would Marty, but Zoe, dear," she added without missing a step, "Marty isn't a lady." Momma was sticking up for me at least. Zoe giggled a second. "Well he looks like one, and he did say that he wanted to be just like me!" She did a twirl, her dress barely moving due to how it was cut almost straight at the hem. "And I am a lady, so wouldn't that make him a lady right now dressed up all pretty like me?" She struck a cute pose, bending at the waist a little with her hands clasped together behind her right at the small of her back. She blinked her eyes with a coy grin that almost had me answering her with a 'yes' before I thought about it. "Zoe," Momma started again, "let's keep all this cutesy stuff a 'no go' for right now, Marty's all confused by all this and says you did this to him." Momma urged her to walk on and she did so. "Ah Pamela," Momma greeted Zoe's mother who was sitting at the table when we entered the room. She got up and her and Momma hugged. "good to see you again. We really need to get out more often like we used to." "Surely," Pamela replied. "It has been what over a month now?" "Easily," Momma answered warmly, smiling through the idle chit-chat that followed. Finally after a few moments of greetings and remembrances of past shopping exploits they found themselves coming back to the matter at hand. I had been standing there awkwardly feeling out of place when Zoe's mother addressed us two. "Zoe, Marty." She got our attention with the sign-song tone of voice she'd called our names with. "Please be good lasses and fetch the tea and cookies from the kitchen." "Lass?!" I exclaimed. "Sorry, Marty, dear," Zoe's mother said, sounding sincere. "A slip of the tongue. But given your current state of dress, can you at least find it reasonable for my error?" She sounded like she was teasing me, while genuinely apologizing at the same time. I didn't know how to take the question, but the stare Momma was shooting my way said to be nice, which I decided was the best course of action anyway. "It's okay," I said sorrowfully. "I suppose if Zoe was wearing boys' undies and my clothes and someone called her a boy it'd be an honest mistake too." I didn't believe that, that it would happen that way. Zoe had worn boys' clothing before, what girl hadn't? But then again, girls weren't made to feel bad about themselves for doing so, so why couldn't, wouldn't, they? I sighed and turned to follow Zoe into the kitchen. "He's wearing panties?" I heard Zoe's mother almost whisper her surprise to Momma. "Zoe!" I half-scolded in a whisper as best I could manage. "What did you do to me?!" "Nothing you didn't say you didn't want," she said plainly, her back to me. "Nothing I didn't want?!" I was aghast. How could she think I wanted to be dressed up like a fairy sissy girl? "I never said I wanted to be a sissy girl!" "You didn't, no," Zoe said plainly, turning around to find me practically right up against her. I could tell, for the first time, that she was wearing a training bra and had a gentle form about her chest I'd only dreamed of before. Somehow her proximity and leaned back posture seemed to disarm me. She looked almost scared and weak, yet she was in control here. She had done this to me. "But you did say you wondered what it like to feel like a girl." "What?" I stammered out, I had no recollection of saying that. She leaned forward, straightening herself up, so that we almost touched chest to chest. I felt my dress push up slightly in the back as the heavily petticoated form was compressed in front against her less frilly denim jumper. "You said you wanted to know what it felt like to be a girl and be all cute like a girl. So I tried to help you." "I don't remember saying that," I said, still whispering. "You did, I taped it on my video camera." "You have a video camera?!" I was surprised to hear this. I didn't know why. Zoe's parents were well off and she had practically everything she ever wanted. She did chores and odd jobs around the house for most of it, so she wasn't as spoiled as one would expect, but it was a known fact around the neighborhood Zoe didn't want for anything for very long ? ever! "Besides, I think you're cute," Zoe added, ignoring my inquiry. "Cute?!" I was surprised. How could any girl see a boy in panties and frilly dresses as cute. What was I to her, a living doll?! "Yes," she said, as she leaned in and kissed my cheek softly. "You are very cute, in that way." She whispered so softly in my ear I barely heard the words. As she tried to slip past me I stepped into her, pressing her lower back into the counter to pin her there. She started to ask why or what, or something, and when she did I kissed her ? on the lips. It was a kiss that she returned. "Well, I guess we know what prompted this little charade." Momma's voice behind us startled both Zoe and I and we jumped apart. Both of us were blushing deeply. "Ah how cute," Pamela said. "Our little ones are exploring kisses and attraction." She looked at my mother, neither seemed to be genuinely amused or entertained. "Why don't you two dolls get your little butts on the couch!" Pamela said with a motherly commanding tone. "We need to talk!" Momma added. Zoe and I walked together, past our mothers, into the living room. We both knew that this was not going to be fun, not at all. I had hoped I'd be allowed to change before getting into this, but it looked like I wasn't being given the chance. At least, I hoped, we'd get to the bottom of this whole clothing problem and I'd get out of these girls' things and back into the clothing I belonged in. We sat on the couch and looked at each other briefly. Zoe and I decided we were too close and slid a little ways apart. I had to adjust the skirt of my short dress as it twisted and cinched up somewhat. It was embarrassing and humiliating to have to sit here in this thing on the huge couch. I kicked my feet as I squirmed about, feeling the panties slide and ride and twist up in weird places. I couldn't adjust them now, it would have to wait until I could get up. Zoe smiled apologetically at me, seeing my awkward expression and shot me a knowing glancing nod. I bet she knew this discomfort all too well, having been made to attend all sorts of pageants and shows earlier in her childhood. Still I couldn't believe she'd done this to me. I would have given everything to give her a piece of my mind, and perhaps would have started to say something had our mothers not just walked in as I settled down. "Now, ladies," Momma started, "and I do say 'Ladies' after overhearing your conversation and exchange in the kitchen, where do you begin to explain this?" Momma motioned her hands at me. "And Zoe, darling," her mother added, "you would be best to remember that I do not take lightly a young lady lying to anyone, especially her mother." She appeared done, but turned her head my way a second later. "And that goes for you too Martin. You may not be my daughter, or even mine, but I feel pretty sure that your mother will be just as hard on your if you're dishonest." "Every bit as much," Momma added. "So who talks first?" She asked, watching as Zoe and I cast each other unsure looks. End of Chapter Two Author's Note: Much of the feedback (both e-mail and on the site) I got was about the first-person perspective of this story. For the next chapter(s) I will write from a third person (likely unlimited/omniscient so I can explore other characters thoughts as well) point of view. I would have done that with this one, but I was over 75% done with this chapter when I started to really get a lot of time to read the feedback. Thanks so much for the comments and please keep them coming, I do pay attention to them and I try to do better where they show I've fallen short. I appreciate everyone who took time to read the first chapter (and now this one) and those that wrote me feedback and/or e-mail. Thanks a bunch!