Ginnie's Summer free porn video

It was the best summer in years, for the world, and for me. The weather was fantastic, the fish were biting, i had a good paper route that paid well, all the growing things were thriving, as if to make up for some disappointing years. And Ginnie moved in for the summer. I rode my bike down the street, past the scattered houses in our rural town, to a trim little Cape Cod with a picket fence and a yard full of flowers. I parked my bike and ran throught the gate and up on the porch to rap on the screen door. "Mrs. Williams, can Darrin come out?" Darrin's mom came to the door, wiping some freshly washed breakfast dishes on the hem of her apron. "Didn't he tell you?" she asked with a smile. "He went away to my brother's in Wisconsin for the summer." Oh, great, I thought. My only real friend, the only one who could save me from boredom. Now what? See, my last few years had been as disappointing as the weather and the crops. A couple friends moved away, and I didn't have any great talents to attract new ones. I was average height but a little over average weight, not too athletic, not too talented, not too self confident. Darrin didn't seem to mind, but the other boys and girls my age couldn't care less. There weren't that many of them anyway. I had just turned 14 that May; I would be in 8th grade that fall. We had a 7-12 combined Junior-Senior high school since there weren't enough students to split them up. I had been completely lost as a 7th grader, completely ignored. Mrs. Williams said, "Zack, are you listening?" "Oh yeah, sure," I lied. "I was just saying that this was a house swap; my brother got Darrin for the summer, and we got his daughter Ginnie. Come on out here and say hi, honey." A skinny little kid in a blue checked sunsuit shuffled slowly out ontop the porch. She peered timidly up at me from under thick dark bangs. "Hi," she whispered, with a tentative attempt at a smile. She shuffled her Sketcher-clad feet. I noticed that her dark hair, brows and lashes made a dramatic contrast with her pale skin, and both set off a pair of startlingly blue eyes. The pale purple T-shirt she wore under her sunsuit revealed nothing of her age, but her thin arms and legs told me she was younger than I was, although maybe only a couple inches shorter. "Uh, hi!" I replied. "Um, if you don't mind, can I ask how old you are? See, there's a shortage of kids my age around here." This time she looked me right in the eyes, with a warm smile. "Oh, I don't mind at all; I'm twelve! And if you're feeling bored, well, I was just complaining about the same thing, wasn't I, Aunt Ruth?" Mrs. Williams nodded, with a smile of her own. "Why don't you two go find something to do? Ride bikes, or something?" "Great!" she said and ran behind the house before I could get a word out. Seconds later she came trundling out a battered girl's bike that might once have been pink. She made a face. "I hate pink! It's so girly, and everybody expects you to wear it all the time. But we couldn't afford to ship my real bike, so Aunt Ruth bought this for me at a yard sale." Mrs. Williams added, "You know, there just aren't many kids around here, so it's hard finding any bikes for sale at all. It was the best I could do." Ginnie ran up past me on the porch and hugged her aunt. "Oh I wasn't complaining, you've been great! Great about everything!" And she looked up at her with real affection. "So, where do you want to go?" I asked. "Oh, you know your way around much better than I do; why don't you give me a guided tour?" I shrugged and started off toward the village. I was pleased to see she didn't have any trouble keeping up. "Okay, on your right that's Adamses, they have the oldest farm in the area. We pick fruit there, I love berries, and we pick corn too. Old man Adams is fair with his prices, and his stuff is delicious." "Whoa!" she excalimed. "Is that a bull in his yard?" I chuckled. "Nope, just a cow. They do seem kinda big close up. I'd think a Wisconsin kid would know more about cattle!" She looked at me and smiled. "They don't drive the herds down the streets of Milwaukee. That was partly what made this summer seem like fun, to see something other than the city for once." "There on the other side is the Town pond. The Township owns it as a nature preserve, so there's lots of fish and turtles and frogs; you can see the ducks out there. I like to bring them breadcrumbs." "How nice of you!" she said. "They must think you're their hero." "Yeah, or at least their pushover!" I replied. I pulled over beside the pond, and in seconds there were a dozen ducks paddling up to us, quacking loudly. "They obviously recognize you!" Ginnie laughed. "They ought to; if it weren't for me they'd be wasted away to nothing" I joked. Then I fished around in my backpack. Pickings were slim, just a handful of cheese crackers with peanut butter filling. I tossed one, and they all dived for it. Then I divided up the rest with Ginnie and we took turns tossing until they were all gone. The ducks protested but I just said, "Later, guys!" while Ginnie turned back and waved gently saying, "We'll be back!" She then looked at me. "I should say 'I'll be back'," she added. "You could have plans of your own of course." I smiled back. "Your plan sounds fine to me." There wasn't much to see in town; the grocery, drug store, gas station, school, gift shop and the Dairy Queen. "Are you thirsty?" I asked. She nodded. I ordered my usual chocolate milkshake, and she asked for a sugar free pink lemonade. "Surely you're not worried about your weight?" I kidded as we sat on the picnic table outside the shop. She stared at me seriously, her pink lips made slightly pinker by the lemonade. "I like the way I look. Don't you? Do I really seem too thin?" We had been having a nice day and now I'd hurt her feelings. "Oh no, no you're just fine, that's all I wanted to say!" I blurted. But she seemed thoughtful and silent all the way back to her summer home. I had an inspiration. "Would you like to come with me on my paper route tomorrow morning? If you want to see the area, it's the best way possible. Almost everybody around here gets The Post. Of course we'll have to get up early." She nodded eagerly. "Deal!" So for that morning and every other morning, rain or shine, we'd carry the papers around and I would treat here afterwards at the DQ. She got me to try the lemonade, and it wasn't bad. On a hot day it was especially refreshing. I didn't want to disappoint her, and it was one little thing I could do, sharing that drink. We often went to feed the ducks in the afternoon. Once a toad hopped out of the nearby weeds; they like damp areas. I picked it up and showed her; it was not big and scary, just a little brownish green amphibian. She was fascinated; her eyes got big as she leaned over my hands to look at it. "Can I hold it?" she asked. Quietly I nodded and placed it in her cupped hands. But then the toad must have been frightened by the sudden movement, and it exejected a greenish yellow liquid onto Ginnie's white tank top. "Ewwwwie! He peed on me!" she screamed, and ran to the pond and began soaking her front with pond water. It may have washed the stain away but it was impossible to tell since her top was now saturated with pond scum and weedy muddy water. I couldn't help but notice, though, as her wet top clung to here, that she was actually getting something of a figure. Okay, she just didn't like to show off, that's fine with me. You could trust a girl like that, she would be honest, and not shallow or flirty. Next afternoon was super hot so we went down to the Town beach, on our lake. It wasn't big enough to attract tourists, maybe five miles around, but it gave us locals all the fishing, boating and swimming we wanted. She had a white tee shirt and pale blue shorts, but when we got to the beach she put those down on the sand with her towel and shoes. Her suit was dark green, with a black seaweed print; it fit her nicely. Something about the way the suit was bunched together in front, kind of puckered, made her look older, more filled out. I could imagine she was my age. She was a good swimmer, in spite of those skinny arms; it was all I could do to keep up with her. On the way home I noticed that even though she had towelled off, her shirt was still clinging to her. She wasn't a movie star, but she was definitely pretty. With her black hair getting curly from the water, her cheeks getting pink from our days in the sun, I wondered how I could ever have thought she was a "skinny little kid"? It seemed like Ginnie was always thinking up new things to do, camping overnight under the stars, hiking, climbing the rocky hill behhind the lake, I'd never been so tired but happy. Later that week we were walking on the top rail of old man Adam's wood fence; it went on for a mile but we didn't get that far. After maybe fifteen minutes Ginnie began to wobble, and with a little shriek she started to lose her balance and fall. I was right behind, so I hopped down and caught her. She was scared, and clung to me a moment. "I thought you said you weren't athletic," she whispered. I answered honestly, "I had motivation this time. Besides, you've been whipping me into shape!" She chuckled quietly. "Good thing, too, or I'd be all over splinters and bruises!" Toward the end of July on an impulse we went bought some splint baskets from Famer Adams and went to pick cherries. He said to take a ladder but Ginnie would rather climb so I said I would too. You didn't buy the fruit, just the basket to put it in, it was easier that way, no weighing, and however much you could stuff in your basket was yours to keep, all for a fair price. People who returned the empty baskets a week later would get some change back, too. Ginnie wasn't wearing climbing clothes; she had a denim skirt, blue low cut sneakers, a red top (she tied the shirttails in a knot around her waist), and a red bandana worn like a scarf. She scampered up the first big tree we came to, and I followed. Being smaller and lighter she had an easier time of it. She turned around to tease me: "Come on, slow poke! The good ones are all up here!" But as she continued climbing I couldn't help but notice that she was offering occasional glimpses of her panties as she climbed. I am not a pervert or a lecher, but I couldn't help noticing that they had a pattern of blue bunnies. Since she climbed higher than I could go, in tree after tree, I spent most of that day caught between curiosity and embarassment. That evening we had a pitting party around the kitchen table at her place. Some of the fruits of our labors would go for jam and preserves, some would be frozen, and the rest was fair game for young appetites. We stuffed pitted cherries into each other's mouths, laughing, getting thoroughly smeared with red sticky juice. A couple weeks later my neighbor loaned us his old aluminum canoe and paddles, and we went out on the lake. We planned to find a secluded beach, swim, maybe cook some kielbasa, and come back. It started out a beautiful day, but summer storms can spring up unexpectedly, and one did. The sky turned a sickly green color, like a bruised peach. The breeze stopped, and everything was suddenly still. "What's wrong?" Ginnie asked. "The world feels strange somehow." "Storm coming!" I replied. Suddenly a fierce cold wind whipped up. "No time to head back for shore; go to that nearest island!" I pointed with my paddle. Lightning crackled in the west; five seconds later a huge boom of thunder shook the water. Ginnie started to sob. "We're in a metal boat! We'll get fried like fish!" "It's still a mile away, so just paddle hard, we'll make it-" sounding braver than I felt. We got just to the island as the first big drops of rain began pelting us, stinging like hail. I jumped out into the shallow water and carefully pulled her and the canoe into shore. "Just stay still a second, okay, now keep balanced, just come forward over the bow, that's it, good!" But as we pulled the canoe away from the lapping waves, the lightning and rain intensified. I led us to a shelf of rock that titled away from the wind, and we sheltered there, shivering in the wet and wind. "I brought a towel in case we went swimming," she said, teeth chattering. "Good! But save part of it at least until the rain is done or we'll just be wet again." I pried a large triangular piece of rock loose from the ground. At the very edge of our protected area I dug a hole with my new tool, and lined it with other stones, like a bowl. On two sides I dug a vent for air to get in and out. Then I ran out into the rain, pulling my shirt halfway over my head to keep the water out of my eyes. I found a sheltered birch copse with some dry bark and twigs, and also some deadfall. I stripped to the waist brought these gleanings back under my shirt, hoping they were not getting too damp. I made a loose bed of bark in my firepit, laying the pieces at an angle over each other to let in the air. Then came the twigs, some more bark, and finally some small pieces of wood. I put larger pieces and some more small ones under our stone shelter in hopes that they would be useful in a few moments. Then I produced the butane fire lighter from my backpack. "Ta-Da!!" I announced cheerfully, but Ginnie still seemed woeful, huddled up into a shivering ball. I carefully lit the lowest level of the fire and sheltered it from wind and rain as best I could. It caught as only dry birch can! Quickly I added more pieces, and soon the fire was as hot and comforting as it could be, for its size. I had no sticks for roasting the meat; I had hoped to cut some, but had no desire to run back out in the storm to do so now. I did have a lockback knife, which we used to cut the kielbasa from its wrapper and then into portions. I slipped the blade into the side of each portion and turned it as well as I could, only losing one to the fire. We ate eagerly, even though it burned our mouths. "You know, I hear that stranded travellers can conserve body heat by coming close together, very close," I said. She looked at me with a michievous gleam in her eye! "Okay mister, just this close and no more!" and she did snuggle up right next to me, which is all I had meant to suggest anyway. Did she think I meant something more than that? Beneath her drying clothing and swimsuit, I could feel every curve of her young body. Did I know what I had meant, truly? The fire outlasted the rain, and warmed us thoroughly. Now, after the heat and sausages, and exertion, we were thirsty. Ginnie had brought a large neoprene water bottle which we shared. "You first" I insisted. She drank deeply and passed it to me. I noticed a pinkish purple smudge on the rim and tasted it. Hm, raspberry! So that was the flavor of her lip gloss. I smiled. She caught my expression with a sidelong glance, and said simply, "Well, you did tell me you liked berries." That became our joke for ten days, me liking berries, until of course we just had to go berry picking at the Adams farm, there was no avoiding it. We got our fingers thoroughly scratched on the briars, and poked berries into each other's mouths like we had done with the cherries. Ginnie seemed to be unable to stop giggling, which meant that instead of going into her mouth many berries got smooshed on her lips. "Wait 'til your aunt sees you, you're a mess!" I hooted. "I know the answer for that," she grinned, and surprised me by standing up on her toes and kissing me full on the lips. I was too startled to know what to do, and began to topple backward; I grabbed onto her, and we fell down together. I was speechless. "You did say you loved berries!" she teased. I said nothing, but held her to me, and returned the kiss, deeply, longingly. Next day after the paper route we were again at the DQ as usual, sipping our lemonades, when a couple girls from school came by, Holly and Melanie. "Hey, you two have become quite an item" they teased. We both blushed but they went right on, "So of course you're going to the Summer's End gala next week?" I looked at Ginnie and said nothing. The gala was a big event for cottage owners mostly, held on the deck of a restaurant that overlooked the lake. It was a dance, with a live band, and food; high schoolers went there too, but I never did. Maybe I should have suggested it; it had never even occured to me. "Oh," stammered Ginnie, "I never considered it, didn't even know about it! I just came here for a country vacation, I've got nothing to wear...I haven't even touched my hair all summer..." The girls winked at each other and nodded. "We're glad to see Zack come out of his shell. You've worked some kind of charm on him, missy! If he doesn't ask you, you should ask him. And if you don't, one of us will, 'cause he's turned into a stud! Don't worry, we'll help you get ready." I looked down at myself. My shirt was open to the waist; I was tanned and muscled. After a summer of chasing around with Ginnie, and no milkshakes, I wasn't the same person I used to be. "Ginnie?" I faltered."...would you...?" She put her arms around my neck and gave me a little kiss while the girls giggled. "Deal!" she grinned. "But these new friends will have to live up to their promise. Is there actually a mall nearby?" Holly said "If 'nearby' means a mere fifty miles distant, then yes. We don't go that far except for serious business. But this would qualify." They arranged to pick her up the day before the gala, for shopping and a makeover. That evening when we got ready to go to our separate homes, she clutched my hand. "I'm nervous," she said. "I'm a stranger here, what if I stand out like a sore thumb? What if I make you look bad? I'm a tomboy, not used to dressup." I hugged her and said not to worry. If people couldn't deal with the most gorgeous tomboy ever seen in the township, that was their problem. My part was easy, I just visited Joe the barber and got my ears lowered, and washed and ironed a white shirt and black pants, and polished my shoes. But when I went over to Ginnie's house the day before the gala, she was a wreck. She was visibly shaking. "I can't do this!" she gasped. "Lightning and shipwreck and falling off fences is one thing, but this is something else again!" She clutched my arm as if to steady herself. "Do you know how long it's been since I wore heels?" "No clue," I confessed. "Forever!" she moaned. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. "None of that, you'll smear your mascara!" I kidded. She shuddered. "That comes later on today, too! And who know what else? Waist nippers?" I shook my head. "You're perfect. Any slimmer would be gilding the lily." The girls pulled up, waving out the windows of a van Holly's mom was driving. Ginnie looked glumly at me again, then over her shoulder at her aunt. "See ya," was all she said, as she trotted to the driveway. I called out to the girls "Why the van, is there a crowd with you?" They laughed and said "No, we need the room for all the gear we're going to buy! See you back here at nine, after the mall closes!" I went back in the house and sat at the kitchen table. Mrs. Williams brought me out a dish of cherries and cream. As I slowly tasted it, mulling over what was happening, she said to me, "You know Zack, this really is a trauma for Ginnie. She's never once done anything like this in her life. It's just not her style. She's worn heels maybe twice before in her life." I nodded. "What I'm trying to say is, please be kind to her. Don't crack jokes, okay? She's been like a friend to you this summer, but tomorrow she's something more, a girl, trying to be pretty, and sophisticated. If you can, let her feel she's succeeded." I saw concern on her face, so I answered, "Don't worry ma'am, we'll sit out most of the dances. I'm not part of that scene either! And I would never hurt her feelings, I hope." (remembering that first afternoon at the DQ)... "I promise, I will do my best to be a perfect escort." She patted my hand, saying, "I'm sure you will." Rather than go home, I waited around there until well after dark. It was warm, so I went out on the porch. Nine o'clock came and went, and I started pacing back and forth. With horn tooting, the van swooshed into the driveway and some girls got out. They were dressed in what I would call "casual chic"; one had a short sleeved white pants suit in linen, one a lime green A-line skirt, a wide white belt, and a green and white patterned blouse with low white collar and cap sleeves. The third wore a powder blue top, with eyelet trim, sleeves off the shoulder, and an embroidery trimmed Vee cutout below the neckline; her white pants were flare styled, and a light fabric that stirred in the breeze. Small circlets of light blue, inside larger circlets of white, dangled from her ears. and a similar ornament hung by a chain upon her chest. Her white sandals had heels, maybe two inches high, and she walked in them with perfect poise. It was Ginnie. I had not recognized her at first because she seemed to have grown instant hair! There were ringlets hanging down the sides of her face, framing her eyes, and a chignon on her head. The three girls were laughing and chattering together and seemed to have a lot to say to each other, but finally Holly said "Hey up there! So, what do you think?" "She's stunning!" I said, a word I had never used before in my life. "But I though this was a formal event?" They all giggled at that. "Oh, these are just extras. The real duds are in the van! Give us a hand, will you?" They opened the back door and I hauled out several large and small boxes, and something on a hanger inside an opaque garment bag. I also got to carry a purple plastic case with a white handle, very mysterious looking to me (a new makeup kit, I discovered later). As I tottered up the stairs, I took a closer look at Ginnie. Her eyes seemed larger, glowing and deep. Her face and cheeks bloomed with health, her lips looked tender and her smile radiant. "Do I still look like me?" she asked timidly. "Yes, only more so!" I replied. "It's like all your natural prettiness has just been emphasized." She brushed my cheek with her lips. "You're so sweet, Zack," she whispered. I showed up early the next morning, with a corsage. I didn't know what the flowers were, but the gift shop owner who had a small floral business said they would match an outfit in lilac color, which is what I had been told to expect. I had my mom drive me to Ginnie's so I wouldn't get dusty or wrinkled, and from there she would drive me to the gala. While she waited in the drive, I walked up the steps, uncomfortable in my good shoes, and rapped on the screen door. Mrs. Williams came to the door, smiled, and without a word just opened it up for her niece to exit. I swear I've never seen anything so beautiful. She had a mesh netting in her hair with beading in it, and that glimmer was matched by her crystal earrings and a crystal pendant dangling at her throat. Her gown was strapless, showing off her lovely slender shoulders; it had a purplish and silver brocade bodice with a high waist, and a narrow drapery of skirt with an uneven hem in a deeper silver tint with threads of purple making an abstract theme. Her silver strap heels had to be at least four inches, but she moved with perfect grace. If you ever saw Jennifer Connelly in the movies, she was like that, only with deep blue eyes. I couldn't say anything, but just stepped forward and asked her where to pin the corsage! There wasn't much spare room, with that gown's design. Her aunt smiled and stepped forward to help; she was even armed with a few straight pins! The spray of flowers rose in a gentle arc toward her left shoulder. As I struggled with the flowers I realized that this was the first time I had ever touched a girl's breast. I also realized that it was just as supple and responsive as I had ever dreamed it would be. Her lips were their usual berry color, but deeper. I touched them gently. "Do you still taste like berries?" I asked. She smiled, but it wasn't her mischievous tomboy smile, it had changed somehow. "You'll have to try a taste later and find out!" she murmured. I hooked my elbow into hers and led her to the car; we sat together in the back seat while mom frequently pretended to adjust the rear view mirror just so she could have a better look. She seemed so happy! She never told me I should have a social life, but it seemed that she had been waiting for just this moment. We arrived just as the band was starting to play. Maybe I was self conscious, but it seemed like everybody stopped what they were doing just to look at us. People were whispering to each other, and even pointing! I knew I was not the topic of their conversation. I led Ginnie onto the dance floor and whispered in her ear: "I am just going to shuffle my feet so I don't step on yours. Try to play along, ok? Then we can sit out a few." But she seemed to be a natural dancer. Every nudge from me, every nuance, and she responded, light and airy, as if I were really leading and she following. We danced the whole first set before stopping for breath. Over at the punchbowl we met our new friends. "Whoa, you said you were afraid of heels! You must be a quick learner, kiddo!" quipped Holly. Ginnie looked down and blushed, her ringlets bouncing. "Somehow I feel like this is my perfect moment" she said quietly. The night flew by; I often was able to hold her close as we danced; she seemed so much more mature and self confident than the shivering kid I had sheltered on the island. Maybe it was the magic of the evening, but I could swear that she was at least my age now! Soon it was time for the last dance. As we started out onto the floor, she laid her head on my shoulder and whispered, "I hate to just let it end like this. Can we go outside?" Silently, while others danced, we made our way to the terrace overlooking the lake. She looked up at me, stars in her eyes. "You do like me, don't you" she said simply. "I can tell by how you feel when we dance." I couldn't seem to answer directly. Instead I asked a question of my own: "Are you ever coming back here again?" "I hope so," she replied, "oh dear God, I hope so." She didn't have to stand on tiptoe to kiss me in those heels! I crushed her to myself, smothering her corsage, and kissed her more violently than I wanted to. There was just so much feeling, I couldn't stop it. Her lips pressed back on mine, and I probed her mouth and swung her around in our own private dance as my hand went lower on her back, pressing her into me. We bumped the rail of the terrace and came up short; the music had stopped. People inside were looking at us. I let her down gently but couldn't let her go. There were tears in her eyes, like stars. "I won't ever forget you," I promised- and I never have. She grinned her old impish grin and said "Of course not! What's myspace for anyway!" Next day she had removed her hair extensions and was in sneakers again, and we had one more wonderful week before her aunt drove her to the airport. I tagged along to say goodbye; she did give me one reluctant last kiss, and then turned and went through the metal detectors and onto the concourse where we could not follow. She looked back once, waved, and then was gone. We visit online sometimes, she does have a webpage, and myspace, and I look forward to those times. We have both gone out with other people since then, in fact, I have somehow attracted a cluster of girls I never even knew existed. But of course it's not the same, it never could be. This summer coming she has a job, but maybe next summer she'll be back; I'll be sixteen and she'll be fourteen, what changes will two years bring? ************************************************************************* Ginnie made her way deliberately through the crowd at the gate until she was well out of sight of Zack and Ruth; then she veered off toward another queue and then another, eventually ending up at the bagggage claim and from there to an exit. She hailed a cab which took her to a nearby motel. She already had her room key, so avoided the desk and entered her room, locking the door behind her. She drew the drapes. Facing a full lngth mirror, she disrobed; jacket, blouse, skirt, loafers, then her watch and earrings, and finally her molded microfiber bra and those cute blue bunny panties. She stood there examining herself: Cute was maybe the right word, maybe potentially pretty, a girl growing into her teens, starting to get a figure. Not a knockout by any means, but cute. She let out a long sigh. It had been so hard, such a challenge to face those girls on their shopping spree at the mall. Of course they were going to want to help her choose clothes, and that meant going into the changing booth together. In the name of fun, they would be giving her the once- over. She ran her hands over her body appraisingly. She had passed muster. Now she unzipped her duffle and retrieved some cotton swabs and a bottle of liquid. Lifting up her right breast, size A, she began to work underneath it, rubbing the liquid up and around. Slowly she worked up higher and higher. She disposed of that swab and got another, cupping her breast in her free hand; how Zack had enjoyed dancing close together, and embracing her! She gave a little squeeze, sighed again, and began swabbing up and around higher and higher until her breast detached itself into her hand. She washed and dried it, placed it on the bed and and repeated the process on the left side. Now the figure in the mirror was completely flat chested, with some gooey scraps clinging to her front. She scrubbed those with a washcloth and soap until nothing remained; nothing at all, just a blank slate of bare flesh. She procured several more swabs and began working on her crotch, starting at the back and working forward, lifting up and out, until her vagina also came loose in her hands. She washed and dried it and laid it beside her breasts. Now she was Darrin; hairless, skinnier than usual Darrin, with a girl's face and hair. And fingernails; he began to apply nail polish remover; thought better of it, trimmed the nails as close as possible, and then finished removing the gel coat of polish. It had started out as a dare and a joke of sorts. He and his mom had been concerned about Zack, drifting away from society, doomed to be a lonely outsider. "Maybe if people could see he had a girlfriend, they'd be more accepting" his mom had said. Darrin had nodded, it made sense, it was expected at 14, it made you part of the club in a way. And somehow when girls saw that you were with someone, they took notice and got more interested themselves. Why? Who could understand the mind of a woman? But his cousins would not want to run the risk of either ending up in a permanent relationship with somebody they didn't know well, or getting caught manipulating the innocent boy. He didn't dare ask any girls he knew since they might tell their friends and then Zack would be embarassed and more lonely than ever. "Honey, you know I go along with your little...hobby?" She nodded to the guestroom upstairs, where the closet and dresser were filled with girl's clothes, his clothes. His mom was great about it, and helped him keep the secret from the rest of the world. "Aw mom, I could never make it work! And then what? He'd hate me, want to kill me!" "Not if we do it up right," she mused thoughtfully. So they created the persona of Ginnie, getting a new email address and then a myspace and website, months before anything would happen, all very natural seeming just in case anybody investigated. The usual pictures would have to come later, when Ginnie was ready to greet the world. They let his brown hair grow long and shaggy, and then braided it in back into a tight rattail. They let his fingernails grow as long as they dared. They found a website about practicing a feminine voice, and worked a half hour on that every night. They began reading Elle and Marie Claire and other magazines, getting beauty and fashion tips and following them. He took better care of his hands, using an emery board and orange stick. He had his teeth cleaned and whitened. He used exfoliants, astringents and moisturizers. He began practicing walking in heels. "Your body is the wrong shape," his mom opined one day. "What do you mean? I work out all the time!" "Well, we need to change your workout; less strength straining, more aerobics, for a leaner more slender look, and something must be done about your waist and butt." "I'm not fat!" "No, but you have no real waist. You go straight up and down in the middle, like a boy." So they hunted out exercises designed to trim those spots, the side of the waist, and arms and legs. Tricep pulls actually made his biceps seem slimmer. Standing on tiptoe repeatedly seemd to lift and firm his butt. It was May and summer was coming soon. His mom shook her head. "We need to do more." She sewed padding discreetly into the rear of every pair of panties, a patch on each side about the size and shape of a third of a small melon. They were feathered at the edge so that the seam was not obvious. Then she wrapped his middle in plastic wrap and placed him in a waist cincher while he did his slimming exercises. It was misery, but it did give him a waist, as he sweated off those remaining inches. Being water weight it quickly came back, so he had to go through the same routine every night, even during the summer. Finally school was out. They shaped and trimmed his nails, and gave them a clear coat of lacquer, with a top coat of clear lavender color; then the toes got the same treatment. He was shaved all over, and waxed, then shaved again with a fresh razor under the arms and again around his lip and chin. Moisturizer was applied, and his mom nodded her approval. Now she got to work on his face, plucking and shaping his brows, dying them black, applying permanent black lashes and trimming them back from a glamorous length to one more suitable for a 6th grader. A thin stroke of midnight blue liner helped conceal the seam of the lashes, and define his eyes. Black waterproof mascara lengthened his lashes and made them appear fuller. They did not overdo, since they wanted a natural look. He used concealer under his eyes and in the crease beside his mouth, then dabbed on a foundation that carefully matched his skin tone. This was also gently brushed into a blended look below his neck, so it would look completely natural. A little bonne belle blusher on the cheeks and some clear berry colored gloss on the lips, and Ginnie was almost ready. Mom first dyed his hair a glossy black, and then cut and styled it. She got him some trainer-sized bras, in molded microfiber, but augmented them with foam pads. With those, a gaff and the padded panties, he looked like any twelve year old girl now. It would take some maintenance; not only the waist, but the skin condition and especially keeping a close eye on any areas that might need shaving. But it was so worth it. And at first it was pure fun, just like a rp. He enjoyed being Zack's new friend, drawing him out of his shell, casually flirting (boys really were slow to take notice, weren't they?) grabbing opportunities to show off a wet clingy shirt, give Zack a glimpse of panty, wait til he's near to "fall" from the fence, all perfectly innocent. And Zack had been magnificent, generous, kind, brave and resourceful, almost perfect. Which was how things got complicated; Ginnie got carried away, the kissing got more intense, she didn't want to hurt him and in fact she wanted to make him happy. Then came the gala. The girls would see; they would know. Mom and Ginnie made a mad dash to a discreet store several miles beyond the mall and bought the prosthetics they would need, along with medical adhesive and flesh colored latex. It was risky, but a chance they would have to take. Ginnie had been truly nervous when she had clung to Zack that time, but not over wearing heels; it was about showing her body to the girls. But it had worked out beautifully. Zack could barely control himself! If he had been old enough to drive, there would have been some heavy petting later that night. And now he was a handsome, buff, well known young man, and word was getting around. Darrin went back to the vanity and removed the deep blue contact lenses and placed them in a retainer. Then he carefully and painstakingly removed the lashes, and scrubbed and scoured his eyes above and below until he couldn't see for the tears. It stung! He dabbed peroxide on his brows to bleach them, and then pencilled in his natural color and outline. He hoped he had done well enough until his mom could work on them; soon enough, they would grow back in. He then scrubbed his face, neck and lips. He dropped to the floor and did thirty pushups. "The workout routine changes NOW!" he announced to himself. Finally, standing over the bathroom sink, he cut off his lovely black hair, and then shaved what was left. He was now a skinhead. After disposing of the remains of his hair, he took another bottle out of his duffle and carefully applied sunless tanning lotion all over himself, even on his head. It would cover up traces of makeup, and make a contrast with pale Ginnie (who had worn spf 50 sunblocker all over herself every day). He was careful not to leave any dribbles or smears. This stuff was not as orange-y as most; it looked reasonably like a real tan. He then covered the hole in his right earlobe with tan-colored latex and when it dried coated it with some extra tanning lotion. Then he placed his old small gold ring in his left ear, the ring he had always worn. Jockey shorts, crew socks, baggy jeans, Red Sox baseball cap, Sox ballcap, D-Wade sneakers; sunglasses to help conceal the brows, and he was ready to face the world as Darrin again. He wrapped the prosthetics in a motel towel and emptied the duffel on the bed; then he turned the duffel inside out, revealing a contrasting color. He refilled the bag, carefully searched to be sure no items (other than his hair) had been left behind, and called his mom on the phone. He dropped off the room key, called a cab, and was at the airport greeting area to meet his mom and Zack when they arrived. He tossed his bag in the trunk and got in beside Zack. "Hey, you look different somehow!" Zack exclaimed. Oh-oh, thought Darrin. "Yeah, it's your head! What happened to all that hair?" And he grabbed the ballcap off Darrin's head. "Help! You're a skinhead! Man, are you UGLY!" "Yeah?" Darrin shot back, in his usual husky voice. "Well maybe I just wanted to fit in with you, you're no poster boy!" "Says who?" Zack punched Darrin's shoulder. "Says me and the world!" Punches were thrown back, and the boys tussled vigorously enough to rock the vehicle. "Hey, stop that! What do you think you're doing back there?" asked Mrs. Williams. "Aw. mom. you know what they say," grinned Darrin. "Boys will be boys!"