The Feminization Of Leslie - Part Two free porn video

The Feminization of Leslie - Part Two Chapter Two - Leslie At Alison's suggestion, Catherine began dressing Leslie in boy's clothes well before he started attending nursery school. He seemed not to have acquired any significantly feminine mannerisms from his sojourn in skirts as a toddler, but he was nevertheless blonde-haired, delicate featured (one might even say pretty) and slim, almost willowy. For the most part, he favored trucks and soldiers as playthings at school, but he would on occasion wander over to where the girls were playing and pick up a Barbie, something the teachers tended to discourage, or at best, ignore. Still, it seemed to Catherine that he'd forgotten all about his prior feminine apparel, which was not surprising, since he was still so young. No matter, she thought. That would change soon enough. Interestingly, he didn't complain about the feminine d?cor in his room, and he generally kept it relatively tidy. Catherine supposed it was simply because he didn't realize there could be other ways for a room to be. Her own and Sabrina's bedrooms were also decorated in distinctly feminine styles. By the time he was in grade two, she began planning for his first taste of petticoat punishment. As luck would have it, the ideal opportunity came almost immediately. She'd been told by Alison and the others that initial punishments should be simple. He would be too young to fully grasp implications of being made to dress fully as a girl, complete with underwear and accessories. It would be sufficient initially, they said, to simply put him in a frilly dress. One rainy afternoon, as she was waiting for him in her car outside the school's main entrance, his teacher emerged and motioned for her to roll down the window. "Mrs. Marsden?" the teacher inquired. Catherine nodded. "So good to see you again," she went on, "it's nothing major... Leslie is generally quite well-behaved, but I thought you should know that I had to speak harshly to him this morning. He'd thrown mud at one of the girls in his class. She was quite upset." "Really?" Catherine responded. "Well! I will speak to him myself. This is inexcusable behavior! I really am terribly sorry." "Please don't distress yourself unduly," the teacher continued reassuringly, "his behavior is nothing out of the ordinary, really. He just needs to know that it's not appropriate, that's all. Boys will be boys, after all." "Yes. Well, we'll see about that..." Catherine said under her breath. She maintained a stony silence on the way home, which had the desired effect of making Leslie apprehensive. Once at home, she called the nanny, while Leslie sat in a kitchen chair, looking uneasy. "Sabrina, could you come here for a moment please? We need to discuss something." "Yes ma'am?" Sabrina said, entering the room. "It seems our Leslie has behaved badly at school today," Catherine announced, "He threw mud at one of the girls in his class, dirtying her pretty dress. She was quite distressed, apparently." "Oh my goodness!" "Aw mom," Leslie protested, speaking for the first time, "It was only a little bit of mud, honest! And the teacher made me apologize, anyway." "I see. You apologized because the teacher told you to? Not because you were sorry." "I was sorry too, really I was!" there was a long pause; "You're not going to... spank me... are you?" "No," his mother replied, to his evident relief, "Not spank. But you must be punished, nevertheless. Sabrina, what do you think his punishment ought to be?" This had been rehearsed. The first suggestions of petticoat punishment, it was agreed, ought to come from the nanny. Sabrina pondered for a few moments, then said, "I think it would be appropriate if Leslie were given a taste of what it's like to BE a pretty girl in a pretty dress. Then maybe he would have a better appreciation of what the poor girl felt to have her dress dirtied." Leslie stared uncomprehendingly at first, then his eyes grew large. He turned to his mother, shocked. "Mom...!" "I think that's an excellent idea, Sabrina. That is what we'll do. Please see if you can find something suitable." "Mom!" Leslie exclaimed, a pained expression on his face. "You mean I... I have to wear a DRESS?" "That's exactly what I mean," she said firmly. "Please go with Sabrina. When you're done, come back down and show me." "Mom! Please... Don't make me..." "Go!" she commanded, "If you're good, you'll be able to take it off after dinner." "Aw..." "Enough!" she said firmly. "Sabrina, please take Leslie upstairs." Sabrina extended her hand and Leslie, his eyes moist, grasped it and allowed her to lead him from the room. A short time later, Leslie and Sabrina reappeared in the kitchen. Leslie was wearing the lacy pink pinafore dress that Catherine had picked out some time earlier. On his feet were white ankle socks and black patent Mary Janes. "There," she said, satisfied. "Now you see what it's like to wear a dress. Do you like it?" He shook his head. "Well, you look quite nice," she said, appraising him, "you're quite pretty, really. You'd make a very nice looking young girl." "Very pretty," Sabrina agreed. "Mom!" exclaimed Leslie, pained. "Please don't. It's embarrassing." "Why?" she inquired. "Is it that awful to be pretty?" "Well... I'm a boy. Boy's aren't supposed to be pretty." "Says who? Is it so terrible?" she said, placatingly, "You can be pretty now and then. Nobody can see you except Sabrina and me. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" He shook his head. "Well, maybe you should. Now, I want you to wear your dress until after dinner, then you can take it off, if you want. Alright?" He nodded morosely. "Now, you can go up to your room and play. Dinner is in one hour." "Come with me," Sabrina said, offering him her hand, "let's go and look at yourself in the mirror." He hesitated, then took her hand and she led him upstairs. Catherine followed a moment later, curious. "There! What do you think?" asked Sabrina, standing him before the full- length mirror in his room. Leslie fell silent, staring. His hand strayed to the bodice of his dress, then to his cheek, as if he couldn't quite believe the figure in the mirror was really him. He looked almost rapt. "Don't you think you look pretty?" Sabrina prompted. He nodded, still seemingly in a trance, his hand still fingering the frills of his dress. Then he shook his head abruptly, as if breaking the spell. "Don't wanna be pretty," he said sullenly. "Well, you can change out of your dress after dinner," she said, "until then, you can play quietly in your room, or read." A short time later, Catherine stole a glance into Leslie's bedroom to see him lying quietly on his bed reading, still idly fingering the hem of his dress. One of his antique dolls lay on the bed next to him, which she found interesting. The following day he returned to regular boys clothes, but the opportunity for more petticoating came almost immediately. Saturday afternoon Sabrina glanced out the kitchen window to see Leslie in the garden, throwing stones at the next-door neighbor's cat, who was stalking along the intervening fence. "Leslie!" she shouted through the window. "Come here this instant!" Looking abashed, he appeared a few moments later before her in the kitchen. Her attention attracted by Sabrina's shout, Catherine emerged into the kitchen a moment later. "Leslie! That was very mean!" Sabrina said sternly. "That poor cat!" "Aw," he mumbled, "it was just little stones... I didn't even hit him..." "He was throwing stones at the neighbor's cat," Sabrina said to his mother by way of explanation. "Leslie!" she said in a shocked tone. "That was very naughty. Sabrina, please take Leslie upstairs. He ought to be punished." "Yes Ma'am. Right away. Come on, young LADY..." she said to Leslie, extending her hand, "let's go..." "Aw Mom!" Leslie cried, anguished. "You mean I have to..." "No arguments!" she retorted. "Off you go. Sabrina, make sure he looks pretty." "Yes Ma'am!" she said, smiling grimly. She led Leslie up the stairs. In his bedroom Sabrina went through his closet, where earlier she'd hung several dresses. "Hmm. I think this one will do nicely," she said, extracting a pretty, scoop-necked powder blue party dress with flounces, short puff sleeves and white lace trim. Holding it up, she ordered, "Strip, young lady..." "Aw...!" Glumly, he removed his jeans and t-shirt. "Underwear too," she said. "Huh? I mean, pardon?" he said, startled. "Come on! Off with them!" Sabrina commanded. Timidly, he removed his underwear and stood naked in front of her. "Now," Sabrina said, businesslike, and removing a pair of lacy girl's panties from his dresser, "put these on." She crouched down and held them for him. Reluctantly, he stepped into them and she pulled them up. "Now the dress..." She put it over his head and pulled it down, adjusted it, then turned him around and zipped it up. Next she returned to the dresser and located a pair of white, frilly ankle socks. "Here. Put these on too." His lower lip trembling, he sat on the edge of his bed and donned the socks. "Now..." from his closet she produced a pair of shiny patent leather Mary Janes with slight heels and, kneeling down, buckled them on his feet. "One final thing," she said, "wait here." She disappeared down the hall, returning a few moments later. "Here. Hold out your hand." Obediently, he complied, and she clipped a delicate silver charm bracelet around his wrist. "There. Now, let me look at you," she said, stepping back. "My, my! You look positively beautiful, Leslie! Just lovely!" Pouting and misty-eyed, he stood awkwardly, then glanced at himself in the mirror. Like before, he seemed captivated by his reflection, and the remarkable change he saw there. His lip stopped trembling and he tentatively reached up to finger the lace at the bodice. "Come on," said Sabrina in a friendlier tone, "let's go show Mom!" Hand in hand they descended the stairs and entered the living room where Catherine was sitting reading a magazine. "Oh my goodness, Leslie!" she gushed on seeing him. "You look... beautiful!" He said nothing, but the women both noted that he didn't seem quite as displeased by this utterance as he had the first time. "You'll have to wear your dress for the rest of the evening," she went on, "you can take it off at bedtime." They ate dinner, during which he seemed to gradually emerge from his funk, and began to participate in the dinner-table conversation. Then, during dessert Catherine said to him, "Would you like to watch a movie tonight?" "Sure!" he responded eagerly. "Harry Potter?" "Why not?" she smiled. "Harry Potter it is!" They adjourned to the den. Catherine popped a DVD into the machine and turned on the giant plasma TV that dominated one wall. "Here, sit by me," she said, patting the cushion on the sofa next to her. He sat, and she put her arm around him. "Mommy's pretty girl," she said, smiling. "But I'm not," he replied, then paused, "I guess I look like a girl, huh? But I'm a boy." She was silent a few moments, then said, "Would you do Mommy a favor, just for tonight?" "Sure." "Would you be Mommy's girl, just for now?" she asked, smiling down at him. "I'd like that." "Do I have to?" "No, of course not. I was just asking if you would. As a favor." He paused, considering. "Okay," he said after a moment, "sure." "That's my girl!" she exclaimed, hugging him to her. He smiled shyly back. She pressed PLAY, and they settled in to watch the video. Some time later, partway through the movie, she reached for the remote and paused it. "Popcorn?" she asked. "Yeah!" he cheered. "Popcorn! Yay!" They went into the kitchen and she placed a bag of popcorn into the microwave and pressed a button. As it spun and the aroma of popping corn filled the room, she asked, "How do you like being a girl for the evening?" He thought about this. "I think I'd rather be a wizard, like Harry," he said. "But Hermione is also a wizard," she replied. "Right?' He nodded, "Yeah, she is, isn't she? And she's a good one, too. Almost as good as Harry." "Definitely," his mom agreed, "and she's pretty, too, isn't she?" "Yeah, she is," he replied, "real pretty." "Almost as pretty as you!" she grinned at him. "Yeah?" "Did you like the dress she wore at the dance?" she went on. He thought about this. "Uh huh," he said, "it was pretty neat, I guess. It looked... nice." They returned to the sofa and sat together for a few minutes, munching popcorn. She was about to resume the movie when Leslie began, "Mom..." "Yes, love?" He paused, then went on, "Did you mean it? Did you mean it when you said I was prettier than Hermione?" "I sure did!" she exclaimed. "You're a VERY pretty girl!" She reached over and stroked his hair gently for a moment, smiling at him. He didn't reply, but sat silently, looking thoughtful. They watched the rest of the movie, then retired. At his mother's instruction Leslie hung the dress carefully in his closet. She tucked him in and kissed him on the forehead. At the door to his room she turned and said, "Leslie?" "Yes, Mom?" "Thank you for being my little girl tonight." "That's okay, Mom. It was... it was alright, I guess." She smiled, and clicked off the light. -- The next opportunity to impose feminine dress on Leslie didn't come for another few weeks. But when he returned home from school one Friday having torn his brand new dress pants by sliding down a muddy embankment in the rain, Catherine made a show of being displeased. Of course, in reality she could have easily bought and sold the entire clothing store where the pants were purchased, but that didn't matter. It was a chance to put Leslie in dresses again. Half an hour later, Sabrina led him down to the den where Catherine waited. He was wearing a different outfit yet again, a pale pink, sleeveless dress with lace trim and short, crinolined skirts. Mid-heeled Mary Janes were on his feet and, she noticed, translucent white stockings instead of ankle socks. He was also wearing a pearl necklace and matching bracelet, and she thought she detected a trace of blush and mascara. She thought he looked enchanting, and she also couldn't help noticing that, while he wasn't exactly happy, he certainly didn't seem nearly as dejected as he had the first few times. "Very nice," she commented, "you look very pretty." He nodded mutely. "You'll have to spend the evening with Sabrina, Leslie," she continued, "I have to go out later." Following dinner, Catherine went upstairs to get ready. She sat at her boudoir and took out her manicure kit, preparing to re-polish her nails. Leslie sat down on the bed, watching. She removed her old polish, then ran an orangewood stick around her cuticles, following it with some cuticle cream. She brushed a base coat onto her long, elegant nails, then selected a deep burgundy polish. She began brushing the color on, then while waiting for the first coat to dry, she looked over at him and smiled. "Leslie?" "Yeah?" "Would you like me to do your nails, too? They'd look so pretty!" He hesitated, staring at her hands, then at his own. Then he said, "Naw... That's for girls." "You're dressed as a girl." "Yeah... but..." "Well, alright," she shrugged, "I don't really have time anyway." She finished her own nails while Leslie sat silently. She doffed her dress and, after putting on a satiny black slip, selected an elegant black cocktail frock from her closet and slipped it on, followed by a pair of black patent spike-heeled sandals. She sat before her boudoir mirror and did her makeup, then donned earrings and bracelet and touched up her hair, while Leslie continued to watch. She picked up her evening bag and packed a few sundries into it then went over to Leslie and kissed him on the cheek. "Be good," she said, "you can do something fun with Sabrina tonight. But, to bed at the proper time, young lady! I'll probably be home late." With nothing else to do, Leslie wandered down the hall to Sabrina's room. He found her reclining on her bed, wearing capris and halter top, reading a Cosmopolitan. "Hi Leslie! Say, what do you think of these?" she asked, sitting up. She plopped the magazine before him on the bedspread and pointed to a picture of a pair of strappy high heels. "Aren't these just yummy?" "Gee," he said, examining the picture, "they sure look high..." "That's the idea," she responded, grinning, "high heels are sexy. They make your legs look longer, and they change the way you walk. You walk sexier, and your bum sticks out." Leslie giggled. "Your BUM sticks out!" "Oh yes!" Sabrina giggled back. "Boys just LOVE it..." Leslie pondered this. After a moment, he asked, "So, are you going to get those shoes? So your bum sticks out?" He grinned. "Probably not," she said, "they cost a LOT of money..." They were silent for a time, then Leslie spoke up, "Hey Sabrina..." "Yes, hun?" "Where did this dress come from?" "What do you mean?" Sabrina asked, wondering where this was heading. "Well, Mom and you are both bigger than me, so this can't be yours or Mom's. Where did you find dresses that are my size?" "Well," Sabrina began carefully, "I think your mom just had them around. They're probably party dresses that she used to wear when she was younger." Leslie nodded. "They probably hold some special memories for her and she doesn't want to get rid of them," she finished, hoping that would satisfy his curiosity. He nodded again, looking pensive. Sabrina got up, went to her dresser and sat down. "Your mom was doing her nails, wasn't she?" she said, changing the subject. "I was walking by her room and I smelled the polish." Leslie nodded. "I should do mine," she mused, holding up her hands and examining them. Like Catherine, she had beautiful, glamour-length nails, "they're starting to chip. Us girls have to be really careful to keep our nails looking nice. Chipped nails look awful." She produced some polish remover and rubbed it onto her nails with a cotton ball, while Leslie watched. "I love wearing nail polish," she went on as she worked, "and having long nails. I love making my hands look pretty. Do you think I have pretty hands?" Leslie nodded vigorously. "You're sweet," she smiled at him. She began brushing on a frosted, strawberry pink polish, and the pungent aroma filled the room. "My mom..." he hesitated, "my mom wanted to do my nails, too." He giggled shyly. "Really?" Sabrina smiled. "What did you say?" "I said no." "Oh? Too bad." There was a longish pause, then she grinned slyly at him. "Would you like ME to do them?" she asked. "Aw..." he blushed. "Nah, it's okay." There was another long silence while Sabrina began brushing on another coat. "Well," he began hesitantly, "maybe... maybe just this once..." " 'Just this once' what, hon?" Sabrina asked, intent on her task. "Just this once... would you... would you do my nails, too?" She looked over at him and smiled broadly, "Why sweetie! I'd love to! Just let's wait a moment till my nails dry, then I'll do you. I'll make them so pretty! You'll love them!" They sat while Sabrina waved her hands in the air and Leslie squirmed about nervously. Then at last she said, "Ready! What color do you want, sweetheart?" "Um..." he blushed furiously. "Well... how about the same one you're wearing?" "Alright! It IS pretty, isn't it? Now just give me your hand, and try to hold still, okay?" He nodded, swallowing hard. Sabrina brushed the polish on to his nails while he sat raptly, watching the procedure carefully. She got him to sit quietly, not touching anything, until they dried, then applied a second coat, and finally a transparent sealer. He had, she noted as she worked, beautifully oval- shaped nails. They look good with polish, she thought, as she wielded the brush. After she was finished and the topcoat had dried completely, she said, brightly, "So! What do you think, Les?" He was staring at his hands, almost spellbound. "They look nice," he said, in a small voice, "real pretty..." "I think so too," she agreed, "you have such beautifully shaped nails. They just cry out for nail polish! "You know," she went on, lowering her voice, "girls get to have so much fun. They get to do all kinds of cool stuff that boys can't do. Wearing nail polish is just one of them! Us girls can have so much fun wearing makeup, pretty jewelry, all kinds of things like that. High heels, like the ones in that magazine... I have dozens of pairs. Different kinds of dresses and skirts, and hairstyles... And there's even MORE fun when you're a bit older!" She waved her hands, as if gesturing at the endless possibilities spread before them. "You can have fun too, you know," she confided, "when your mom punishes you. Nobody needs to know. You can have fun being a girl with me for a while, then go back to being a boy. See what I mean?" He thought about this for some moments, then nodded again, shyly. "And now, sweetie," Sabrina continued in a more businesslike tone, "It's just about your bedtime, so off with you!" "Okay," he stood up. At the door he stopped and turned. "Sabrina?" "Yes honey?" "Thanks... for doing my nails, I mean." "Oh, you're very welcome sweetie! I'm glad you like them. I had fun doing it! Now, hang your dress up carefully, and don't forget to brush your teeth!" A minute or so later, she heard him call from his bedroom, "Sabrina..." "Yes, hon?" "Can you please unzip me? I can't reach it." "Of course, hon!" She went to his room and, as he stood with his back to her, pulled down the zipper of his dress. "Can I go to bed with nail polish on, Sabrina?" he asked. "It won't get ruined, will it?" "Oh no," she replied, "it's certainly enough dry by now. Now off you go! Brush teeth! Wash up!" she smacked him gently on the bottom. A short time later she returned to tuck him in, and found him lying in bed with his hands on the covers, still gazing at his nails. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow over the scene. "You like your pretty nails, huh?" she smiled. He nodded slowly. "Well, any time you want me to do them again, all you have to do is ask." She bent down and kissed him on the forehead and smiled down at him. "Good night, pretty girl..." She clicked off the light. -- The next occasion again took place on a Friday, and Catherine took the opportunity to extend the length of his punishment accordingly. When Sabrina presented him before her, dressed in his pale blue party dress, stockings, Mary Janes, jewelry, and a wisp of blush and eye makeup, she looked him up and down and announced, "Very nice. Sabrina, I would like Leslie to wear a dress all weekend, this time." "All weekend!" Leslie exclaimed. "But... but I wanted to go to Joey's house tomorrow. He's got a new video game..." "Nobody's stopping you," she rejoined, "you're not grounded, you simply have to wear a dress." "But..." he stuttered. "I can't go to Joey's house in a dress! Everyone would laugh at me!" "Well, it's your choice, Leslie," she affirmed. "You can go, or you can stay here. It's entirely up to you." "Aw..." "No arguments!" she said firmly. "You and Sabrina can play together if you want. She plays video games too, you know." "But Mom..." "That's enough!" she snapped. "The decision has been made." They argued back and forth for another minute or so, but his mother was adamant. At last, Leslie angrily stomped up the stairs, went to his room and flopped onto his bed. Sabrina entered a few minutes later. Some months earlier, she and Catherine had agreed that when she, Catherine, had decreed a significant punishment, Sabrina should assume the "good cop" role in their good cop- bad cop routine. She decided that now would be a good time to expand on this. She sat next to him on his bed. "I guess you're pretty pissed off at your mom, huh?" she said quietly. He didn't answer. "I don't blame you," she went on, gently brushing a wisp of hair out of his eyes, "I mean, I know how much you wanted to go over to Joey's house and play with his new video game and all." "I can't go over there in a dress!" he said hotly. "Joey would laugh at me and tell everybody at school! It would be awful." "I know!" said Sabrina, resting a hand on his. "I understand, I really do. But you know, we can have fun here. I know it's not as good as going over to Joey's, but maybe we can play some video games together. And there's lots of other things we could do too." "Yeah. But I really wanted to go over to Joey's!" There was a short silence. "You're sure Joey would laugh at you?" "Yuh-huh! What do YOU think?" "How do you know Joey's mother doesn't dress him in girl's clothes sometimes too?" This thought obviously took Leslie by surprise, and he lay silent for a moment, digesting it. "Gee..." he mused. "You think so?" "Maybe." He pondered for another moment, then shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I couldn't go over there anyway. Everyone would see me. And how could I know if Joey wears dresses? I couldn't just ask him. He'd think I was nuts... Naw, I couldn't risk it." He sank back into a morose silence. "Well you know, Les," Sabrina said encouragingly, "there's other stuff we could do around here. We could have fun... I could do your nails again..." He looked up at her. "Really?" "Sure honey! I'd love to!" A reluctant smile came over his face. "Well," he said finally, "it's not as good as a video game... but..." -- The following morning, as he sat at the breakfast table in a lemon yellow party dress and tan stockings, but otherwise dressed much as he had been the previous evening, his mother announced, "Leslie, I want you to have more clothes. I want to take you shopping today." Leslie's eyes grew large. "MOM!" he gasped. "Shopping! But, what about my dress? I can't go out like this!" "Of course you can," she retorted, "I want to get you some new clothes. Most people will probably think you're a girl anyway, so I don't know what you're so worried about. In any case, the decision's been made." When his mother had grabbed her purse and keys and headed off to back the car out of the garage, he turned to Sabrina in desperation. "What am I going to do!" he moaned. "I can't go to the mall dressed like this!" "There's not much I can do, sweets," she said ruefully, "your mom's the boss, after all..." She appraised him critically for a few moments, then said, "Here hon, just a sec. Maybe this'll help..." She rummaged in her purse for a moment, then extracted a tube of strawberry frosted lip gloss, similar to the nail polish he was wearing. "Do this," she said, making her lips into an 'O'. She smoothed the gloss onto his lips, then said, "There. Now you look even more like a girl! Nobody will know, I promise. You'll be okay." "Gee... Are you sure, Sabrina?" "Positive. Now off you go, Mom's waiting." As he turned to go, she said, "Les! One more thing!" She ran upstairs and reappeared a moment later with a small white shoulder-strap purse. "You should carry one of these," she explained, handing it to him. "Most girls your age do..." Fifteen minutes later, Leslie was sitting rigidly in the plush leather passenger seat of his mother's Mercedes, purse on his lap, as they drove toward town. "Mom!" he said tremulously, breaking the silence. "Please don't make me! I don't wanna... People will laugh!" "Don't be silly," she said shortly, "everyone will think you're a girl. Just act like a girl and you'll be fine." "But I don't know how to act as a girl!" he protested. "I can't!" "Just act the way the girls in your class do," she said, "It's your choice. If you want to act like a boy in a dress, people will notice you. If you act like a girl, you'll be perfectly alright. Look at you. Look at your nails, your jewelry. You look perfect. You're making a big fuss over nothing." "But girls don't wear dresses like this," he moaned, "it's too fancy." "Don't be silly," she repeated, "you're acting like a baby. If you're not careful, I'll put you in diapers and make you carry a dolly." Leslie looked at her, stricken, and fell silent. In the mall parking lot, Mrs. Marsden said, "Let's go, Leslie. I don't want to be here all day." "Mom..." he whined. "Come on, young lady!" she snapped. "No more arguments!" Apprehensively, he picked up his purse, opened the door and stepped out, looking around nervously. His mother took his hand and led him through the doors and down the main concourse. She could feel him shaking. After a minute or so, she spoke up, "See, Leslie? Nobody's staring at you, are they?" This wasn't entirely true. It was, of course, somewhat unusual to see a girl in a flouncy party dress and Mary Janes at the mall, and Leslie would flinch every time someone gave him a second glance. However, it was obvious to Mrs. Marsden that the occasional double-takes were due to Leslie's unusual attire, and not because anyone suspected that he was really a boy. It wouldn't do to tell him that, though. She led him down the concourse and into La Moda, a dress shop that specialized in formal and party wear for girls and teens, as well as adult women, and was also on Alison's list as one of the stores that catered to boys undergoing feminization training. Leslie hung back, but Catherine grasped his hand and pulled him into the store. An attractive, smartly dressed young saleswoman approached them immediately. "Good morning, ladies," she smiled. "How can I help you today?" "We're looking for some more dresses like the one he's wearing," Catherine began, and Leslie flinched visibly at her use word 'he'. "We would like several dresses with crinolines, in different lengths, and maybe some without. Do you have anything with a sweetheart neckline?" "Oh, quite a few," the other responded, not batting an eye. "We have lots of gorgeous dresses that I'm SURE you'll just love!" she smiled at Leslie, "Short sleeves? Long?" "Let's look at some short-sleeved dresses first, then maybe some sleeveless ones. Oh, and we'll need some underthings as well. Do you carry lingerie?" They began going through the racks, while Leslie stood back, a stricken look on his face. His mother extracted several elaborate dresses from the racks, some sparkling with sequins and appliqu?, others frothy with lace and frills. Leslie looked mortified. "I'll start a change room for you," the saleswoman said, bundling the dresses over her arm. "Our lingerie is just there, next to that mannequin in the basque. Please feel free to look around. We also have some lovely jewelry! Let me know when you're ready to start trying things on." She bustled off. During the next twenty minutes, Leslie tried on and modeled for his mother and the saleslady at least two dozen dresses. Most of them were flounced, frilly concoctions of lace and glitter, similar to the one he'd been wearing. Some had short puff or cap sleeves, others were sleeveless. He tried on several cute halter-neck dresses as well. As he would stand glumly before the three-way mirror, the women would zip him up, make fine adjustments to the dress, and generally fuss and coo over him. His mother eventually selected six, then while the saleslady carefully folded them into tissue-lined boxes, she turned her attention to the lingerie section. The saleslady turned to Leslie and said, "Those dresses look absolutely lovely on you, especially the halter dress! You have such a slim body, and your legs! My goodness, you have lovely long legs! I'll bet you can't wait to get your first pair of heels. Then your legs will look absolutely stunning!" Leslie merely blushed and looked down. Catherine returned to the cash, having selecting a half-dozen lacy panties, a teddy, three lace trimmed camisoles, some stockings and a garter belt. These she handed to the clerk, saying, "We'll take these, too." She produced her credit card at the cash, paid the bill, and then asked if they could keep the boxes there in the store until they were ready to leave the mall. "No problem at all!" the saleslady said brightly, "Just come back whenever you're ready, and they'll be here behind the cash." Leslie and his mother left the store, and as they walked down the mall, Catherine said, "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" "Mom!" Leslie said, pained. "You kept saying 'he'! It was embarrassing. How can I pretend to be a girl if you say 'he' all the time?" She stopped and looked at him. Finally, she said, "You're right, Leslie. You're right, and I apologize. I'll try and remember to say 'she' from now on." And, with Leslie somewhat mollified, they continued down the mall. "Let's go in here," she said suddenly, taking his hand and leading him into Reflexions, a trendy new jewelry store for teens. "Hi!" the girl at the counter said cheerfully. "Can I help you find anything?" "My daughter would like to get her ears pierced," Catherine announced, and Leslie stared at her suddenly, his eyes widening. He didn't say anything, however, and she wondered if this was simply because he was afraid his voice might give him away, or whether the idea was not entirely unwelcome. "Absolutely!" the girl replied. "Here's our selection of studs. You buy the earrings, and the piercing is free." "I like these," she said, pointing to some pearl studs. "What do you think, Leslie?" "Mom!" he whispered urgently into her ear. "I can't! What about school?" "Boys wear earrings too, you know," she whispered back. "School won't be a problem, I promise." The girl either didn't hear, or pretended not to. "Well," Leslie said in a low voice, "can I at least get those?" He pointed to some tiny gold studs. "We'll compromise," said Catherine, "let's get these." And she pointed to a pair of studs with pearls that were somewhat smaller than her original choice. "Is that okay?" "Can I change them for school?" he asked quietly. "Oh no," the girl replied, "you'll have to wear these for at least a month, until the holes heal. But then you'll be able to take them out and wear any earrings you want!" And she gestured at the displays around the store, laden with earrings of every size, shape and color. "So, are we settled?" Leslie looked apprehensive, but said nothing. "Yes, I think we are," said Catherine. The girl put tiny marks in the centers of Leslie's earlobes with a felt- tip marker, then, adjusting the mirror before them, said, "Does that look about right?" They looked, and Catherine said, "Yes, that looks just perfect!" The girl loaded the gun. Zap! Zap! "How's that?" she asked Leslie. He looked in the mirror and beheld two tiny pearl studs in his ears. "She looks lovely!" Catherine exclaimed. "Leslie, they're so pretty! What a good choice!" Before they left, the girl gave them detailed instructions on ear care, as well as some disinfectant and cotton pads. As they continued down the mall, Leslie said, "What if the boys at school laugh at me?" "They won't," his mother replied, "really. Lots of boys wear earrings, these days. Some of boys may comment on them, but I'll bet they'll be more jealous than anything." "You think so?" "I know so... say, do you want to go in here?" she pointed to an ice cream shop. "Perhaps have a milkshake?" "Okay... sure!" They sat at the counter, and one of the teenage girls behind the counter came over to them. "Afternoon, ladies!" she chirped. "What can I get for you today?" "Two chocolate milkshakes, please." "Coming right up!" she replied., then, looking at Leslie, she exclaimed, "Wow! That's such a pretty dress! Are you going to a party?" Leslie seemed tongue-tied by this sudden attention, but Catherine broke in smoothly, "Yes, she has a birthday party to go to this afternoon." "Well, have fun!" the girl said, smiling. "I bet you'll be the prettiest girl there!" "There!" she said to Leslie in a low voice after the girl left to start on their drinks, "You see. She thought you were a girl! You made a big fuss over nothing." Leslie said nothing, but nodded slowly, looking pensive. The finished their milkshakes, browsed a few more stores, then returned to La Moda to pick up their purchases. "You got your ears pierced!" the clerk exclaimed when she saw Leslie. "Congratulations! Do be sure to come back soon and browse our earring selection! We have dozens of lovely styles!" "We certainly will!" Catherine replied. The carried the mountain of boxes out to the car, climbed in and drove home. They found Sabrina in the kitchen, sipping tea and reading a magazine. "How did it go?" She asked. "Very well," Catherine replied. "We bought some lovely dresses, and Leslie got his ears pierced." "So I see!" Sabrina said excitedly, "Let me look! Oh they look lovely, Leslie! I can't wait until you're ready to try on other earrings!" "I called Leslie 'he' at first," Catherine explained, "but he quite rightly corrected me, and after that it was 'she' and 'her'. From then on it went quite smoothly. I don't think any of the sales people suspected anything, do you Leslie?" "I guess not," he said musingly. "And it went well, didn't it? Not as terrible as you thought?" "I guess not," he repeated, still seeming rather lost in thought. "I was very proud of you at the mall today," She continued, "you were very grown-up, and you looked just lovely! I was very pleased." Leslie snapped out of his reverie. "Yeah, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," he said, "I stopped being scared after a while. And the milkshake was yummy!" The following day, when Sabrina suggested he model his new dresses, he agreed without a murmur of complaint. He changed from dress to dress by himself without help, and even commented at one point that different shoes and jewelry might look better with certain dresses. He performed his ear-care routine without prompting. The ladies were pleased. On Monday, he was back in jeans and t-shirts. -- Over the next few months punishments came with increasing frequency. Once his ear piercings healed, Sabrina and Catherine both bought him a large selection of feminine earrings in different styles, which he was expected to wear during petticoating. At first, for the most part, he stayed home during these episodes, but more and more Catherine and Sabrina started taking him on shopping trips in dresses, something he appeared to be getting used to. He still feared being seen downtown or at the mall by a friend or someone from his class, but he gradually came to accept the fact that, even if he was wearing a frilly party dress, people still generally thought he was a girl, which was comforting. His mom and Sabrina acquiesced to his wishes and almost always referred to him as 'she' in public. Over time, they slowly began replacing his day-to-day clothes with girl's clothes; nothing overt, just a gradual, almost imperceptible, shift towards androgyny. The jeans went first, replaced with girl's jeans, cut slightly differently, some with embroidered designs on the pockets or hems. Girl's sneakers and sandals were substituted for his existing footwear. Girl's shirts and t-shirts followed. Nothing major, nothing overtly feminine, but definitely tending in a steadily less and less masculine direction. At one point, Sabrina came home with several lacy girl's nighties, after which his boys pajamas were eliminated and his mother informed him that he was to sleep in the nighties from then on. He whined perfunctorily at this, but gave in without major resistance. His ninth birthday came and went. Catherine decided not to buy him anything feminine, not this time. Feminization was still ostensibly supposed to be punishment, after all, and birthdays were not times for punishment. In any case, she thought, there would likely be many more opportunities later. They had a party with several of Leslie's friends from school; there were videos, games, cake. For presents, she gave him what he asked for, a PSP with several games, some expensive bicycle accessories, and some DVDs, including the new Harry Potter. That evening, as Leslie was getting ready for bed, Sabrina knocked on his door. "Les?" She poked her head in. "Hi Sabrina," he said as he slipped into a frilly, pale blue nightie. "I got you a couple of special secret birthday presents," she whispered, entering the room. "Really? Cool!" They sat down on the bed together. "Here they are," she said, producing three wrapped boxes from behind her back. "Thanks, Sabrina!" "I hope you like them..." He unwrapped the first. Inside was a teenage girl's makeup kit, a selection of lipsticks and glosses, eye shadows and liners, mascara, blush, transparent foundation, pots of glitter. "Wow..." he said, uncertainly. "Gee." "Open the other one," Sabrina urged. In it was a manicure kit, with about a dozen bottles of polish, including some wild shades of blue, green, and violet. "I know you like it when I do your nails," she said, pointing at the bottles, "those are colors that teenage girls wear sometimes. I thought they might be fun." "Gee, Sabrina..." He seemed conflicted. Then, after a moment, he lunged at her and hugged her hard around the neck. "Thanks, Sabrina!" he whispered, into her ear. "That's really cool." "Do you like them?" she said, hugging him back. "I thought they might be fun the next time your mom wants you to wear a dress. I could help you get dolled up and look really pretty." "Yeah!" he said. "That would be great, Sabrina! That would be way cool." "Oh I'm so glad, hon! I'd love to do that. Now open the last one, "she said as she handed him the smallest box. Inside was a pretty silver necklace, with matching bracelet and dangly earrings. "Wow. They sure are pretty," he said, holding them up and examining them. "Do you like them?" she asked. "Yeah, I do. They're cool. But you'll have to help me put them on, okay?" "Of course, honey. I'm so glad you like my presents!" she whispered, hugging him. "Now go to sleep. It's late and you've had a long day." -- "Leslie!" his mother roared. "Stealing! How could you?" "Aw Mom..." he whined, "I didn't steal them, honest! I was just borrowing them. I was going to bring them back!" "Were you, now?" she snarled, "So if you were just 'borrowing' them, why didn't you ask first?" Five minutes earlier, the school had called with the distressing news that Leslie had been caught removing several video games from another student's knapsack. "I DID!!" he protested shrilly. "He SAID I could borrow them, honest! Really mom, he did!" The knapsack's owner had claimed otherwise. But, it was pointed out by the teacher making the call, this claim needed to be taken with a grain or two of salt, as the boy, it seemed, had a minor history of deliberately trying to get other students in trouble, particularly if he had an ongoing dispute with them. Nevertheless, Catherine decided, it was time for a major escalation in Leslie's feminization. The routine was now pretty familiar. Leslie, accompanied by Sabrina, adjourned to his bedroom, whereupon he would strip, and she would select a dress for him to wear, along with the appropriate underthings, stockings and shoes. Once he was dressed, she would choose some jewelry for him, do his makeup and, if there was time, polish his nails. Then she would lead him downstairs for his mother's inspection, after which she would inform him how long he would have to remain in dresses. This time, Leslie knew, it would be long. His mom was definitely pissed and, to be honest, he was lying when he said that the other boy had, in fact, agreed to lend him the video games. If this was ever definitively revealed, his mom would be provoked to an even fiercer rage. "You're in the dog house, young lady," his mother said as he appeared before her, "you look very pretty, as usual, but I don't think you deserve to look pretty. You've been very, very naughty, and I am VERY displeased." She paused, considering. "Perhaps, on the other hand... maybe you should be even PRETTIER... Yes, maybe that would be a suitable punishment..." Leslie felt his stomach knot. What did she mean by that? What did she have in mind? He was sure it wasn't going to be good, whatever it was... They headed to the mall. Once inside, she marched him straight down the main concourse and into Nine West, a hip, fashionable shoe store. "I'm looking for some stilettos that will go with this dress. Open-toed pumps, I think, like these." She cocked a foot to display her own high heeled shoe. "HE wears seven and a half, I believe." The emphasis on 'he' was quite audible. Leslie cringed. "Certainly," the young salesgirl replied, grinning at him. "Have a look at this rack. See anything that appeals?" "These are nice," Catherine said, pulling a shoe with a tall slender heel from the rack. "Would you have this in HIS size?" Leslie flinched again. "Let me look," the girl took the shoe and examined the label. "'Contessa'" she read. "I'll be right back!" Leslie sat anxiously while they waited. The girl was back in a minute, carrying a box. "You're in luck!" she said brightly. "This is our last pair in your size!" She extracted the shoes from the box and held them up, "Here you go! Ready for some grown-up heels, huh?" she grinned at Leslie. She bent down and removed Leslie's Mary Janes from his feet, then slipped on the heels. "Walk around in them," Catherine told him. Unsteadily, he stood up and, with quivering legs, took a few steps. "If these are your first pair of real heels," the girl said, walking beside him, "you'll find them a little hard to walk in at first, but they're worth it! Try putting more weight on the front part of your foot, and less on the heel. That makes it easier." Wobbling unsteadily, he took a few more steps, while the girl held out her hand, ready to grab him if he stumbled. Then, little by little his walk became steadier. "That's it!" she enthused, "You're getting it! And they look wonderful on you. You have such great legs!" "Do they pinch anywhere?" Catherine asked him. He shrugged. "We'll take them," she said, "in fact, please box his Mary Janes. He'll wear the heels home." "Certainly," the clerk responded, picking up the shoes. They made their way farther down the mall, Leslie still stumbling occasionally with the unaccustomed height of the heels. Catherine would put out an arm to steady him. "In here," she pointed. It was Aqua, the mall's fashionable new beauty salon, which also happened to on the list Alison had given her. 'Walk-ins welcome', a sign announced. "Hello," Catherine said to the sleek young woman sitting behind the marble-topped reception desk. "I'm hoping you can help us out today. I'd like to get his hair done, have a complete makeover, and acrylic nails. Can you do that sort of thing without an appointment?" The girl showed no surprise at all, and opened her appointment book. "Hmm," she began, running a long, purple-painted nail down the list, "usually, no, that'd be too much all at once. But, it looks like we've had a couple of cancellations today, so you're in luck! I think Katrina can take you right away... Katrina!" she called over her shoulder. "Mom!!" Leslie whispered to his mother urgently. "Mom, do I have to get all that stuff? Can't we just go home now? Please!" "Certainly not," she replied promptly, "we're here, we've made an appointment for right now, and we're going through with it. It's time you had a proper hairdo anyway. That one you're wearing is too boyish." Katrina, a tall, slender model-type, deeply tanned, with a cascade of raven hair and impossibly long, slender legs emerging from her impossibly short, slender mini-skirt, came out from the back and greeted them. "Hi," she said, extending her hand, "I'm Katrina, and I'll be your stylist! Well, let's get you started," she grinned at Leslie, "we'll do hair first, then nails, and while the nails are drying we'll give you a facial and do your makeup. How's that?" "Perfect," Catherine replied. They moved to the salon area of the shop, where she sat Leslie down in a styling chair and draped a cape around him. "There we go," she said, smiling, "don't want to get anything on that pretty dress, do we? You're hair's still pretty short," she commented, fluffing it with her fingers. "I hope you're going to let it grow; it's so thick and beautiful! But we can probably do something nice with it even now. I'm thinking a kind of pixie cut might be cute on you... Maybe a few highlights, too?" She looked over at Catherine, who nodded. "I think that's an excellent idea," she said. "Please do." While she busied herself getting her implements organized, Leslie again whispered urgently to his mother, "Mom! What's she gonna do? Please let's just go home!" But Katrina had returned. "So!" she said brightly, "Is this your first visit to a salon?" He gulped and nodded. "Well, just relax and enjoy it!" she smiled#. "Really, most everybody thinks it's fun to be pampered. I think you'll like it. "You're so lucky," she went on. "You're really pretty; I can't wait to do your makeup! Some boys who come in here just aren't going to look like girls no matter what we do. But you... well, I'll bet we can make you look like a fashion model!" Leslie blushed deeply at this, but Katrina didn't seem to notice. She chattered on non-stop. "I just love your shoes!" she gushed. "They're absolutely gorgeous! I bet you love them too, don't you? You should really get a pedicure, get some polish on your toes... maybe a toe ring or two? All the girls are wearing them, in summertime, at least. Reflexions has some pretty ones. I like your earrings, too!" While he sat, staring apprehensively at his reflection in the mirror, she separated strands of his hair and, using foils, brushed in some highlighting dye. "Now," she said, when she'd finished, "just let that sit for a few minutes. I think you'll like the result." Leslie sat in the styling chair, squirming with embarrassment, for twenty minutes while the highlighting dye did its work. He tried to read, but the beauty and fashion magazines that were available only reminded him of his predicament. The chair in which he sat was in full view of passersby in the mall concourse, and to his anxious eyes it seemed that everyone was staring in at him, everyone marveling at the sight of the boy in the dress getting his hair done. Of course, it wasn't true. Even the other patrons of the beauty salon scarcely noticed him. The few who did smiled at him, but it was the reassuring smile of someone who sees a young girl nervous about getting her first beauty treatment in a chic, upscale salon. But from Leslie's perspective he was virtually naked before them. At last, Katrina returned and poked a few foils. "Perfect!" she said cheerfully. "Let's get you washed, then get to stylin'!" She led him toward the back of the salon and sat him down at a sink. "Okay, now just lean back... that's it. Good..." She wet his hair and began working the shampoo into a lather to remove the dye, still chattering away. She rinsed, finished up with some strawberry-scented conditioner, then sat him up and assessed the results. "Wow! They came out awesome!" she said excitedly. "It's hard to tell right now cuz your hair's still wet, but just wait'll you see the end result!" She led him back to the chair and got busy with her scissors and comb. "I'm not going to remove any length, of course, just give you a bit of layering... You need a little body... and we'll do the pixie cut, I think, like we decided..." She snipped away industriously, still chatting a mile a minute, and then began working with the blow-dryer. Finally, "So, what do you think?" "I think it's lovely," his mother put in. "he looks very pretty!" "He sure does!" The hairstyle was definitely girlish, much more so than his previous do. The highlights gave it a sheen that it didn't have before, and feathery bangs framed his face. His heart skipped several beats. "Let's have a little fun," Katrina said. She rummaged in her trolley for a moment, then extracted a large, pale blue bow that matched his dress, and clipped it to his hair. "Perfect!" his mother said, smiling. "That's positively charming!" "Good... Now!" Katrina grinned. "Let's get started on those nails!" Soaking a cotton ball in polish remover, she quickly stripped the color from his nails. Then she began matching nail tips up to his nails and with dawning horror he suddenly realized what 'acrylic nails' meant. She was going to give him long nails like his mother and Sabrina! "Mom..." he whispered. She ignored him. Then, before his frightened eyes she began gluing them in place, using something that smelled to him like Krazy Glue. He knew what that meant. They wouldn't come off! She began brushing on the acrylic, then once it hardened she began shaping and smoothing them using a tiny electric grinding tool. They were nearly three-quarters of an inch long, he saw with dismay, but she then she began smoothing and filing down the tips. "What length do you want?" she asked. "I think my length," Catherine replied, displaying her own nails. "Can I suggest going just a WEE bit shorter?" Katrina asked. "These will grow out, of course, with his natural nails, but that'll give him a chance to get used to them before they get really long." "Well, I suppose that makes sense," Catherine agreed. "And of course he'll have to come back every ten days or so for a fill as they grow out. Now, square tip or rounded? Or I can do a 'rounded square' tip, like yours." "Yes, rounded square will be fine," Catherine replied. While Leslie stared on in mute distress, Katrina began shaping his nails with her electric tool. "I've given you French nails," she said as she worked, "That way, you won't HAVE to wear polish all the time. But I bet you'll want to keep them polished, won't you?" She grinned up at him. He just swallowed and kept staring at his hands. A few minutes later, Katrina said, "There, all done! How do you like them?" "They look beautiful!" Catherine replied, impressed, "Very nice work. I must remember to come back here to get my own done." Katrina grinned, and said to Leslie, "Now, what pretty shade shall we polish your gorgeous nails today, honey?" "I like this one," Catherine said, holding up a pretty, frosted coral, "nice and feminine, pretty and summery, suitable for a young girl. We don't want to go too dark just yet, do we?" Leslie just stared back, his eyes pleading wordlessly. Katrina began brushing on the color while Leslie just stared, his eyes pleading wordlessly. "Two coats of this will do," she went on, "then a top coat to seal it. The sealer we use is amazing! You can do almost anything and it won't chip or mar. You'll love it!" "We must remember to come back for pedicures," Catherine remarked as she worked, "maybe we can both get matching pedicures at the same time!" "Great idea!" Katrina enthused. A few minutes later, she said, "There! All done. What do you think? Aren't they pretty? Now be careful and don't touch ANYTHING until they dry! Don't mess up my beautiful work! Now," she went on, "let's get started on your face..." Using cold cream, she removed the traces of Leslie's existing makeup, then began gently rubbing some sort of rich, fruit-scented lotion onto his face. She massaged his cheeks, chin, forehead, gently working the cream into his skin, and Leslie, in spite of his general unease, found himself thinking that this part of the ordeal, at least, actually felt kind of good. She continued, gently massaging his neck, ears, temples, eyelids, while he closed his eyes and began at last to relax a little. He even almost forgot that he now possessed pretty, coral-frosted talons almost three- eights of an inch long. She wiped the excess from his face with a towel, then with a cotton swab stroked on a gentle astringent. "This'll remove any excess oil," she explained, "although you're a little young yet, to really need it. But in a couple of years you'll want to do this every day..." She finished with a light moisturizer, then said, "Okay! Now, shall we do a daytime makeup? Or do you want to have fun and go with something more dramatic?" "Oh, let's have some fun," Catherine said, "let's go dramatic!" "Dramatic it is!" Katrina grinned at him, and his unease welled up again. God! What did THAT mean? he wondered frantically. She began with a transparent foundation, then began working with an angled brush and some pale blusher. "Girls your age don't need a whole lot of makeup," Katrina explained as she worked, "especially foundation, because your skin is so smooth and soft. Just a little bit to even out the tones..." She began on his eyes, working with several different pots of shadow and liner. She tweezed a few errant hairs from his brows, then executed lovely arched eyebrows with a few deft strokes of her pencil. "Hey, let's REALLY have fun," she said animatedly, "let's go with false eyelashes!" She rummaged about in her makeup trolley for a moment, then extracted a pair, and some eyelash glue. "These'll be perfect..." She ran a thin line of glue along the lashes, then using tweezers, positioned them along Leslie's lash line, pressing them in place with her little finger. "Okay, close your eyes -- gently! -- while they dry... Good." She blended them with his natural lashes with a little mascara, then, as she rummaged again in her supplies, she muttered, "Okay... lipstick... lipstick... Here! This'll match your nails, and it's really glossy. It'll look so sexy, I promise! I bet ALL the boys'll be after you!" She teased. This thought horrified Leslie. My gosh! He thought worriedly. What if some boy DOES want to talk to me? What would I do? What would I DO?! Katrina finished smoothing on the lipstick, then gave the rest to Leslie. "Here," she said, "you can keep this in your purse, for touchups. Now... ta-da!" She turned him to face the mirror. "What do you think? Pretty gorgeous, huh?" Gazing at his reflection, Leslie got his first glimpse of himself, fully transformed by Katrina's work, and a flood of conflicting emotions welled up and through him. There was little, if any, 'boy' in the image that stared back at him, wide-eyed, in the mirror. My gosh! he thought, stunned, I DO look like a girl. A pretty girl! But... but I'm a boy! I sure don't look like a boy! His face, framed by downy bangs and side wisps, had a virtually 'porcelain doll' complexion. Beautiful wide, deep blue eyes outlined in long, feathery lashes stared back at him, while the full, bee-stung lips, glossed and shimmering in the light, quivered ever so slightly, with the flood of emotions coursing through him. And, amid the torrent of confused thoughts that swirled around in this brain as he stared, he found himself thinking: wait till I show Sabrina! Half an hour later, he was about to do just that. With an uneasy mixture of embarrassment and excitement fluttering in his stomach, he tottered into the kitchen in his new heels, calling, "Sabrina!" But she wasn't there. A note was on the kitchen table, explaining that she was out for a couple of hours, but would be back by suppertime. To his surprise, he felt a measure of disappointment welling up in him, and he sat in the den half-watching TV, squirming with impatience, one eye cocked towards the door, until at last, he heard her come in the front door. She went directly upstairs and a minute later he heard the toilet flush. He jumped up and went into the hall, then nervously he checked his reflection in the hall mirror. He rummaged through his purse and extracted the tube of lip gloss. He'd never done this before, he realized. Someone else had always done his makeup in the past... Well, how hard can it be? With a shaking hand he extracted the wand and smoothed a little of the goo onto his lips. There, he thought, that doesn't look too bad... He heard her coming down the stairs and positioned himself where she would see him immediately at the bottom. Her reaction was everything he could have hoped for. As he stood, knees quivering, a tremulous half-smile on his face, she turned and saw him immediately. She stopped suddenly, and her hands flew to her mouth. She seemed almost speechless. "Leslie!" she gasped after a moment. "Oh my goodness, Leslie! Let me look at you!" She came closer, her eyes taking it all in. "Oh Leslie! You look... you look absolutely stunning! Beautiful! A beautiful, beautiful girl. Oh, just look at you!" She reached out and stroked his shoulders affectionately. In spite of himself, Leslie felt a surge of pride well up within him, and, though he tried to prevent it, he felt a smug smirk break out on his face. The intense rush of excitement Sabrina's enthusiastic response provoked in him was almost more than he could bear. He felt it swirl in his chest and flow downward within his abdomen, coming to rest, it seemed, in his groin. A tingling sensation arose there. He squirmed; suddenly, his panties seemed a wee bit too tight. She came up and looked at him carefully, then with her thumb she reached up and wiped a little excess gloss from the corner of his mouth. "There. That's better... perfect! Oh and I love your shoes, Les!" she went on, "are you able to walk in them okay? They're absolutely gorgeous, and very sexy! You know how much I love heels... What size do you wear? I wonder if we could swap sometimes!" she ran on excitedly. When she quieted, he hesitated, then held out his hands and said, shyly, "See? My nails are like yours now, too..." "Oooh! Oh Les, they're beautiful!" she gushed, taking his hands in hers and examining them excitedly. "They ARE just like mine! Oh you're going to love having pretty nails, I just know it!" Just then, Catherine called from the dining room, "Dinner!" Sabrina smiled at him. "Come on, pretty girl!" Sabrina said, taking his hand in hers, "Let's go eat. But not too much, now!" she waggled a finger. "We don't want to spoil that beautiful figure now, do we?" -- It was Monday morning before Leslie fully realized that he'd have to go to school that day with long, polished nails. My God, he thought, panicked, what am I going to do? He realized that his acrylic nails were far too thick and hard to yield to an ordinary pair of scissors or nail file. Nothing short of Katrina's electric nail tool would get through that stuff, and in any case, if he ruined them his mother would probably go ballistic. Did he dare at least remove the polish by himself? Or should he ask first? But what if she says no? In an agony of indecision, he paced up and down in his room, staring fearfully at his nails, until Sabrina called him to breakfast. "You're not dressed yet," she observed as he entered the kitchen still in his nightie, "you'll be late!" "Sabrina!" he said urgently as he entered the kitchen, "Sabrina, I can't go to school with these nails! What am I going to do?" "Hmm," she mused, picking up his hand and looking at it, "your mother will probably want you to." "But..." "Tell you what," she said, "we'll remove your nail polish, anyway. That'll be something." "Thanks Sabrina," he said gratefully, "that's better than nothing..." She ran upstairs and returned a moment later with a bottle of remover and some cotton pads. "Here," she said, "give me your hands..." She began wiping the polish away. But, even without it, he realized, his nails were way too feminine. They were almost as long as Sabrina's glamour-length talons, the tips far too white. Could he somehow keep them hidden all day? Just then his mother bustled into the room, wearing a suit and heels, putting on earrings as she came. "Sabrina," she said hurriedly, "I'm late for a meeting downtown. Can you drive Leslie to school today?" "Sure," Sabrina r