The Best Night Of My Life free porn video

The Best Night of My Life I suspect that my Mom must have dreamed of being a movie actor when she was a young girl, and was disappointed that she never made it beyond appearing in a couple of plays at her high school, and that's why she worked so hard to get me into modeling and acting. I don't really remember them but she must have entered me in a number of "Beautiful Baby" contests as she has several framed certificates showing that I placed Second, or Third or received an Honorable Mention - there's even one First Place finish in the "Under 18-Months" category. When I was in elementary school I remember her taking me to a couple of photographers and having them put together a "portfolio" of photos for me. I think that she sent the photos to several local advertising agencies but I don't remember that anything ever came of it - at least then. I pretty much put up with her because there really wasn't any way to escape doing what she wanted me to do and the whole process really wasn't too much of a "hassle." Well, except for my hair, of course. For some reason she really, really, really didn't want me to get my hair cut. Like, maybe once a year or so she'd take me to a beauty parlor for a "trim" and as a result, my hair hung almost a foot below my shoulders. I was like, "Mom, I really don't want to have it that long. Why can't I get it cut shorter like the other guys?" But she kept coming back with, "Well, one of the agencies might want someone with long hair to model for them, so you've got to keep it long. If they want someone with short hair we can always have it cut shorter." So I had to be careful to shampoo it several times a week, and use just the right kind of conditioner on it, and brush it every morning and evening. About the only concession I could get from her was to pull it back in a pony tail. Every so often one of my friends would kid me about it a little but most of them just ignored it. [5th grade] Well, and the other thing was that she wanted me to be really careful not to "hurt" myself. "Hurt" being anything that would spoil my "looks." I remember one time when I was ten years old and was playing baseball in a Little League Minor Division. One day I wasn't too careful when I was walking around one of my teammates taking a few "warm up" swings and he tapped me in the back of the head with his bat. It really didn't hurt too much except that there was a small cut - and of course head cuts bleed like mad. So I'm standing there with blood soaking my pony tail and running down my back, and the coach is trying to stop the bleeding, but he's also kind of pissed at me because it really was my fault that I got hit. And of course I'm playing the "tough guy" for my teammates, like, "Blood? What blood? Oh, am I bleeding?" But Mom showed up just then and had a hissy fit and started screaming at everyone in sight that I'd better not be permanently disfigured or she'd sue everyone on the team and she grabs me and throws me into the car and rushes me to the hospital where the doctor just put a little "butterfly bandage" on it and told my Mom that I'd be fine and no, I really didn't need to be seen by a plastic surgeon. And I was like, "Mom, please quit making a scene. Let's pay the bill and just go home." So finally she quieted down and we went home and she made me wash all the blood out of my hair even though the shampoo got in the cut and really stung like mad and I guess I cried a little at that. And for the rest of the evening she kept looking at the cut and making sure that it wasn't going to "open up" and turn into a scar or anything like that. Actually, I was hoping that there would be a scar that I could show off to the other guys - even though it would have been on the back of my head and covered up by my long hair. So anyway, that was the end of Little League - no more baseball for me. "Robin" - that's not much of a name for a boy - why couldn't Mom have named me Mike, or Eric, or Mark, or even Danny or something like that? There's a girl in my class who spells her name "Robyn" so I guess it could have been worse. But I got my friends to call me "Rob" - which was OK. It was only embarrassing when someone, like a substitute teacher who didn't know me, would be checking attendance and when my name was called as "Robin Clark" and I answered, sometimes the teacher would look a little startled and some of the girls in the classroom would giggle a little. One other thing that bugs me - Mom will never talk about my father. I know that I must have had one but there are no pictures of him around our apartment, and she never talks about him. The couple of times that I came right out and asked her she just got this pissy look on her face and just didn't say anything and ignored me for awhile. So I haven't brought the subject up recently. [6th grade] I got my first modeling job while I was in sixth grade. It wasn't a really big deal but one of the local stores wanted to use some "local talent" for the pictures in their "back to school" clothing advertisements. I think that Mom was more nervous about it than I was, but it wasn't a big deal. When we got to the photographer's studio, we found that there were seven other kids there, both boys and girls, in ages ranging from about six to twelve - I was one of the older ones. There was one nervous moment when we first walked in when the photographer looked at me, and my pony tail, and told Mom that he hadn't realized how "feminine" I looked with my hair that way. I was half hoping that Mom would give in and let me get a quick haircut. But she got me off in the corner and loosened up my pony tail and parted my hair on the left side and rearranged the way it swept back over my ears so that it looked like I just had a more natural-looking boy's haircut. And the photographer posed me with only front shots so that you couldn't see the long hair hanging down my back. After that it was just try on some clothes, get some individual shots and shots with other kids, try on some different clothes and repeat the process. No big deal. My friend Evan and I had been working on our bikes out in the parking lot behind the apartment building the other day. You know how when you're kind of bored you'll just find something to take apart and then put back together? Well, we had been doing that with our bikes - disassembling them and cleaning the wheel bearings and shifters and chains and then putting them back together. Well it was a pretty dirty job and my hands ended up getting pretty dirty, and one of my fingernails got torn a little and all of them had this black grime under them, and a wrench had slipped once and cracked my thumb and I had the makings of a pretty good blood blister building up under that fingernail. So anyway, we were sitting at the supper table that night and Mom looks over at my hands and gasped and said, "Oh, Robin, what did you do to your hands? They're so dirty." And I'm like, "Yeah? Well it'll wash off eventually." But she wouldn't give up and after supper she took me into the bathroom and spent over an hour washing my hands and cleaning the grime from under my fingernails and trimming them and smoothing off the ends with this little sanding thingie and then working on my "cuticles" with this little wooden stick thingie and then putting on several coats of lotion to soften and moisturize the skin on my hands. Man, up till then I didn't even know what a "cuticle" was. But I had to admit that my hands and fingernails really did look a lot better after she was done with them - well, except for the thumb with the blood blister under the nail. But the best part was that the lotion left my hands really greasy and slippery and when I went to bed that night it really felt super great to feel my greasy hands on my dick as I masturbated. A couple of days later I brought up the subject with Mom, "Uh, Mom, like, maybe I should be taking better care of my hands and, uh, maybe, um, you could get me some of those sticks and things that you used on them and, like, a big jar of that lotion?" She just looked at me with this surprised look for a second and then said, "Why Robin, I think that's so nice that you're taking more interest in your appearance, and I'll be glad to pick up those items for you." Oh man this was great! So after that I was more careful to keep my fingernails clean and nice looking - I'd spend five or ten minutes working on them every night - but what I liked best was the big glop of the greasy lotion that I'd smear on my hands just before jumping into bed and masturbating like mad! But you know the best part of working on my bike - about two weeks later the thumbnail that had the blood blister under it peeled off. I knew that it was loose and I had been playing with it for a couple of days and then one day when I was sitting with my friends in the Cafeteria at lunchtime I idly said to no one in particular, "Well, I guess it's time for this baby to come off", and I slowly peeled it off and set it on the table. The other guys were, like, "Oh man, how can you stand to do that", and one of my friends even looked like he was going to throw up. That was soo cool. What wasn't so cool was how pissed off Mom was when she saw the thumb with no fingernail but there wasn't much that she could do about it, and the nail did grow back pretty fast so by the end of the summer, you'd never know that there had ever been a problem. [7th grade] I guess that it must have been about six months after the first modeling session that the photographer called Mom and asked her what condition my hands were in. She was like, "Robin's hands? What are you talking about?", and he explained that he needed to get some closeup shots for a jewelry advertisement and the other kids that he had considered to date, even the girls, had pretty messy looking hands. So Mom told him that mine were in pretty good shape and he set up a photo shoot for that weekend. When we got to his studio and he started laying out the jewelry and I looked at it I was, like, "But that's girl's jewelry." "Yeah, but so what", he said, "You're just providing hands and a neck." Well, I guess that it really didn't make any difference so we started in with the photos. Must have taken about four hours because there were about twenty individual pieces and he wanted different combinations and had to adjust the lighting a lot to get the effects that he wanted. And then when he got to the necklaces Mom had to undo my ponytail and have my hair sweep around and fall on my shoulders to frame the necklaces. But we finally finished and as we were leaving he said, "The store doesn't want this stuff back, most of it isn't that expensive anyway, so I usually just throw it away. If you know someone who would like it, it's yours to keep." I thought, "What do I want with girl's jewelry", but Mom said that sure, we'd take it. As we were walking out, he said one other thing to my Mom, "Today went pretty well and I'll probably bring you in again, but before I can do that you'll have to have his ears pierced - at least four piercings in each ear, five or six would be better." My eyes got really large as I thought about getting my ears pierced but Mom just said, "No problem", and we left. As luck would have it, there was an accident or something on the interstate and what should have taken twenty minutes took over an hour. After the first half hour I was pretty bored. And every time I tuned in a radio station that had the kind of music that I liked, Mom changed it back to the NPR station that I hated. Since I didn't have anything better to do, I began trying on some of the jewelry that the photographer had given us. I found a matching gold bracelet and necklace that didn't look too bad so I left them on for the rest of the drive home, only taking them off before I went over to a friend's house to play video games later that day. Mom had left all of the jewelry on top of the dresser in my room and occasionally when I was bored I'd play with it and try on different pieces and see how they looked on me. I noticed that some of the other boys at school wore bracelets or necklaces even though theirs were, like, thicker and more rugged looking than the ones that I had. But as a test, one day before I went to school I put on one of the thin gold necklaces and nobody kidded me about it. So since then I've been wearing the gold necklace and the matching bracelet all the time. It's kind of funny, I never would have gone out and bought one for myself, but since they were given to me, and I do like the way they look on me, I figured why not wear them? It was about a month later that Mom took me to one of the shops in the mall and I had my ears pierced. I thought that she had some shopping to do and I was just tagging along with her until she turned and walked into a small shop that offered tattoos and piercings. Oh man, I was getting ready to turn around and walk out of the place but she firmly grabbed my arm and walked me up to the counter where she explained to the guy that I wanted six piercings in each ear. The guy started to give her the argument that six in each ear was a little much for the first time but she just waved him off and told him to "get with it." After it was all over, I had to admit that it really wasn't all that bad - he had numbed my ears with some cold spray and I really just felt a little prick and then some tugging when he put a stud in each hole to keep them from healing closed. When he held a mirror up so I could see (admire?) them I saw that I now had four studs in each earlobe, one additional hole about half way up my ear, and one hole up near the top. He gave me a bottle of antiseptic and some instructions on how to keep them clean for a couple of weeks and then Mom took me to a movie and bought me some ice cream. [8th grade] Got another call from the photographer to shoot some back-to-school photos the following year. When we got there I was a little surprised to see that there weren't any other kids there. And I was even more surprised when he laid out the clothes I was going to model - at first I just thought that they were kind of bright colors but then I looked at them closer and realized that they were girl's clothes! "But, uh, isn't there, um, some mistake? These look like girl's clothes", I asked him. He explained that this year he's doing some work for a company that has just introduced a TomBoy? line of clothing and the models for this line of girl's clothing have to have the "tomboy" look - meaning they have to look more like a boy than a girl - and all of the girl models he uses are, well, too "feminine." He continued to tell me that the other boys that he uses as models are either too heavy, or too stocky or have too muscular a build so he can't use them, and because of my slim build and long hair and general appearance that he thought that I was just the kind of model he was looking for. Well, I could see why he had called me in but I really, really did not want to put on any girl's clothes and I told Mom just that. But she kept after me that I couldn't start turning down modeling chances and after awhile I decided I'd do it. I mean, what the heck, if he's willing to pay me to model, I guess I really don't care what I dress in so I went ahead and he spent about six hours getting all the shots he wanted. Actually, as I dressed in front of the mirror I had to admit that I didn't really look all that bad in the TomBoy? line of girl's clothes - or wouldn't have if I had been a girl, of course. Just before we left, he asked Mom if I had gotten my ears pierced and she pulled back my hair to show him. "Good", he said, "I'll be giving you a call in a couple of months because I've got another request for some jewelry photos. Oh, and by the way", he continued, "Don't let him cut his fingernails. Let them grow out a little so that they'll look better in the hand shots." And with that we left. A couple of days after that, I opened my closet and - IT HAD A BUNCH OF GIRL'S CLOTHES IN IT! "Mom, what's with the clothes", I asked as I ran into the kitchen where she was cleaning up after breakfast. "Well, the photographer said that the stores can't sell the clothing once it's been worn, even if it's only once by a model, so he said that we might as well take them and see whether we could use them, after all they are in your size." "Yeah", I protested, "But it's one thing to just wear them for a modeling shoot, but to wear them all the time?" "Silly, you don't have to wear them all the time", she responded, "After all you still have your boy's clothes, and you can wear those to school. And it would sure help with our budget if you could just wear some of the girl's clothes around the house so that I'll have to buy you less new clothing." Well, Mom maybe, just had a little point there, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to get into a huge argument with her over a few pieces of clothing so I didn't say anything and just went back up to my room and got dressed - in my boy's clothes, of course. But the following Saturday when I was getting ready to get dressed, I was looking through the clothes in my closet and I thought, "What the heck. I'm just going to be hanging around the apartment today anyway." So I put on a white blouse and a pair of tan girl's chino pants. I was surprised by how well the pants fit me - usually during the photo shoots everything is fitted with tape and pins and stuff, and this was the first time that I had tried them on, well, without any artificial fitting. I guess that it was because these clothes were from the TomBoy? line that they fit me so well. Anyway, after I had them on I did have to admit that they really didn't look too bad on me - and the styles weren't too "frilly" or really "feminine" or anything. And I did like the way the soft fabrics felt against my skin, so I wore them all day. After that I slowly started wearing the TomBoy? clothes more and more and eventually as soon as school was over for the day and I was back in the apartment I'd immediately change from my boy's clothing to my girl's clothing. Shortly thereafter we got the call from the photographer to come in for the additional jewelry shots. It was a Saturday and the weather was a little on the warm side so I just put on a yellow knit top and a pair of denim shorts. I wasn't sure whether the photographer wanted to get any shots that might include my top so I threw several more tops into a shoulder bag that Mom had bought me to carry my stuff in. As we drove to the studio, we had the windows open in the car and I let my hair out of the ponytail so that I could enjoy the feeling of the breeze blowing through it. When I walked into the studio the photographer commented, "Why Robin, you look very pretty today", and I just blushed as we got ready for the shoot. Most of the jewelry that I was to model that day consisted of earrings with a few bracelets and rings thrown in. As the photographer had requested, I had let my fingernails grow out and they now extended about a quarter of an inch past my fingertips. Mom had applied a clear nail polish to them that morning so they looked really nice and he spent several hours photographing them with different combinations of the rings and bracelets on them. After that he spent another couple of hours photographing me modeling the earrings. He did want to have me change into different tops several times and was glad that I had brought some additional ones along. "You're getting to be a real professional model", he said at one point and I blushed and giggled a little. As the shoot was wrapping up I looked over at him and asked, "Uh, do you care if I keep a couple of the earrings?" "Keep the whole lot", he replied, "I don't have any use for them." So as we were getting ready to leave I put a couple of the larger and heavier earrings on each ear and enjoyed the feeling of their weight tugging at my earlobes. As Christmas approached, Mom and I started the "Christmas gift waltz" - you know, when she's trying to figure out what to get you, and you're trying to get as many presents as possible? One morning we had this conversation: MOM: "So, have you been thinking about what you'd like for Christmas?" ME: "Yeah, well, I was thinking that I could use some new clothes. A lot of new clothes in fact." MOM: "You know that money is tight and if it weren't for the small amount that you make modeling, we'd be having some problems now." ME: "Oh sure, I understand, but since you're keeping my modeling money, I was hoping that you could spend just a little on clothes for me." MOM: "Well, just try to be reasonable with your requests. Now what did you want." ME: "Uh, I've been, umm, going through the catalogs and, well, uh, here are the, um, the things, uh, that I'd like." And I was blushing like mad at this point. MOM: "But these are girl's clothes!" ME: "Uh, umm, well, uh, they're really not all that feminine. And, uh, I do like the colors and styles." Bottom Line: I got girl's clothing for Christmas! Got another modeling call the following spring - this time it was for girl's summer wear. Mom talked on the phone with the photographer for several minutes and when she hung up she had a concerned look on her face. "What's the problem?" I asked her as she came over to me. "Well, the summer clothing will be more, um, 'revealing' and I'm concerned about your body hair", she said. "Body Hair?" I asked. "Well, you'll be modeling shorts, and sleeveless tops so that your legs and armpits will show, and there's one other area that I'm a little concerned about", she said. "One other area? What other area", I asked. "Let's worry about your legs and armpits first - you haven't got much chest hair yet so I think we can forget about that for the time being", she said, and with that she took me to the bathroom and laid out girl's razors and shaving cream and lotions on the countertop and told me how to shave my armpits and legs after I had taken a long shower. Well, I wasn't too wild about this but I did want the money from the modeling job to keep coming in so I took a long, steamy shower and then turned off the water and stood in the shower and shaved my armpits - gee, that wasn't too hard after all. After that I sat on the side of the tub and shaved my legs - that was a little harder and I nicked myself a couple of times. After I was done with the shaving, I applied a soothing lotion to the areas that I'd shaved and I was amazed to see and feel how soft and smooth my legs and armpits looked with no hair. "Gosh, the shaving is kind of a hassle, but the end result does look really nice. Now I can see why girls put up with this", I thought. "Looks like you nicked yourself in a couple of places", Mom said when she came back into the bathroom just as I was pulling on my shorts, "And I can see that we still have a problem", she continued. "Problem", I asked, "Look how nice my legs and armpits look", and I raised my arms and turned around for her. "No, I mean down there", she said, pointing to my shorts. I looked down and couldn't see anything wrong, well, except for a few pubic hairs showing above the top of my shorts. "He said there'll be a couple of two-piece bathing suits for you to model and we can't have any hair showing, so let's get those shorts off and get you trimmed up. I don't want to take a chance on you nicking yourself any more so I'll do it for you", Mom said. So she sat on the toilet seat and had me stand in front of her and drop my shorts and spread my legs a little. Then she lathered me up and began to shave me. Man, I was feeling really, really weird to be standing naked in front of my Mom while she shaved my crotch. And pretty soon I started to get this erection and that made me feel even weirder to have my dick sticking out that way. "Well, I'm glad to see that you're enjoying this", she said as she pushed my dick out of the way to continue shaving me. I'm, like, trying to think about anything but what's happening to me - trying to hold it back, you know - when Mom finishes up, says, "All done. You can clean yourself off and get dressed now", and walks out of the bathroom. Man, just in time - I grabbed my dick and gave it a couple of quick strokes and shot my load into the wastebasket. Later, as I was cleaning myself off, I realized that the only hair that I have in my crotch now is just a small patch above the top of my dick. Wow, I couldn't believe how soft and white I looked down there now. Anyway, we went over to the studio and the shoot went pretty well - except for two minor problems. The first problem happened when I put on the first of the girl's bathing suits. I put it on and adjusted it and though that it really didn't look to bad to me. Then I noticed that Mom and the photographer were frowning a little. Mom walked over to me and put her hand down into the bathing suit and grabbed my dick and stuffed it down and back between my legs so that it wouldn't show through the thin stretch fabric of the suit. I was blushing like mad because the photographer had seen my Mom touch me that way - I mean, she could have let me do it myself, couldn't she? After that I was very careful to "arrange" myself so that I wouldn't need her help. The other problem was that the top of the suit looked a little, well, it looked like I didn't have any breasts - which of course was true, I didn't - the fabric just looked kind of loose and floppy where it should have been stretched out a little over my breasts. It was the photographer who came to my rescue that time as he went over to a storage cabinet and rummaged around a little and came back and handed me two things that looked like tiny plastic sacks full of clear jelly. "What are these", I asked him. "Breast forms", he replied, "Stuff them into the top of your suit to make it look like you've got something up there. So I did and - Holy Shit - did that make a difference! It made it look like I had a real pair of tits on me. And when I moved you could even see them jiggling a little. Man, I was getting so turned on that I was getting an erection and it was really painful to have my dick stuffed back between my legs like that. But anyway, once the photographer started giving me posing instructions I concentrated on the shoot and my erection softened up and went away. As usual, the photographer sent all the clothing that I had been modeling home with me so that I now had a pretty good collection of girl's swimwear - except that I couldn't wear it anywhere, of course. But there were a couple of times when Mom wasn't home when I'd put on one of the swim suits, and stuff my dick back down between my legs, and stuff some Kleenex into the top, and just walk around the house and look at myself in the mirrors and kind of daydream about what it would be like to have real breasts - not that I wanted to have any, you understand - I was just curious about what they felt like on the girls that had them. Usually after I'd walked around and looked at myself in several mirrors I'd get really turned on and I'd reach down into my bikini bottom and pull my dick out from down between my legs and jerk off. [9th grade] The second week of school I heard someone say, "Hey, Robin." I looked around and there was a boy on the other side of the hallway looking at me. He looked kind of familiar but I couldn't remember where I'd seen him before. He must have seen the look of confusion on my face as he smiled and said, "I didn't think that you'd recognize me. But when we were both 6th graders we both did some modeling for a clothes advertisement. My name's Adam", and he walked over and stood by me." We talked a little and I learned that Adam had just transferred into my school so I showed him around and filled him in on the good teachers, and the bad ones, and a few of the other kids to watch out for. Adam told me that he might not have remembered me except that when he was buying some clothes that summer, he had noticed me in some advertisements and that jogged his memory. "But, uh, weren't you wearing, uh, girl's clothes", he asked. I blushed and lied, "Oh, yeah. And it was kinda stupid and I really hated putting them on and having pictures taken of me wearing them. But Mom needed the money so I put up with it." So anyway, I wouldn't say that Adam and I became best friends or anything but sometimes at school we'd hang around together. In October we got a call from the photographer - seems like the company is adding a line of footwear to their TomBoy? clothing line and he wanted me to come in early in November and model some of the footwear for him - just in time to get the ads out for the Christmas buying season. He told Mom that the reason that we was calling this far in advance was that some of the shoes were open-toed styles and he wanted to make sure that my toenails were in good shape in the photographs. He also said that he'd be dropping some samples in the mail shortly for me to practice with. "Practice?" I asked, "How much practice does it take to be able to put on a pair of shoes?" "Oh, you'll see", he said as he hung up. I found out what he meant by "practice" when a large package arrived in the mail for me about a week later. When I opened it I found that it contained five pairs of shoes - all girl's sandals - which I had kind of expected. What I hadn't expected was the heels. One pair of sandals didn't really have much of a heel - the bottom of the sole was pretty flat. But there was another pair that had a heel about two inches high - at least that pair had a wide heel - Mom said it was a "platform" heel. But it got worse from there - the next pair had a two inch heel but the heel was really narrow at the bottom - Mom said that was a "stiletto" heel. And then there was a pair with a four inch stiletto heel, and finally a pair with a six inch stiletto heel. The sandals with the flat soles weren't too bad, it just took me five or ten minutes the first time that I wore them to figure out how to adjust and buckle the two leather straps that held them on. After that they didn't feel all that much different to walk around in than my boy's sneakers. Even the sandals with the two inch platform heels were fairly easy to learn how to walk around in - it just took me a couple of days to get used to feeling the back of my foot being a couple of inches off the floor. But the stiletto heels? Man, they were wicked. The first time I put on the two inch stiletto's I spent most of my time sitting on my ass on the floor because I kept tripping and falling down as I tried to walk in them - but after a week or so I mastered them. After the two inch stiletto's, the four inch stiletto's weren't too bad - it was just that the back of my legs got sore after I walked around in them for an hour or so because my ankle was bent up so much. The six inch stiletto's? I never did get really good with them. Oh, I could put them on and stand up, but I had to be really careful and walk really slow in them, and I never did get to the point where I could walk down a set of stairs with them (walking up the stairs was OK because I'd just use my toes on the front of the stair treads), and after about twenty minutes the front of my feet and the backs of my legs would really be hurting. But the appointment for modeling the shoes went really well. I'd been spending about fifteen minutes every evening taking care of my toenails and they had grown out a little in the past month and I'd shaped them nicely and taken good care of the cuticles and had put on a clear nail polish and buffed them that morning so that they were nice and shiny. I didn't have to walk around, just stand still and pose for the photographer, so even the six inch stiletto's weren't a problem as long as I didn't have to wear them too long. It wasn't until the photographer showed me some of the digital proofs that I realized how different the four inch, and especially the six inch stiletto's made me look. I had been wearing a pair of tight and skimpy yellow shorts when I modeled those shoes and the full body side shots of me made me look like I had these really long and slim legs. And I guess it must have been because of the way I had to stand when I was wearing those shoes, but my posture sure made it look like I had a bigger rear end. Oh, my butt wasn't huge or anything but it sure did look softer and more rounded, and you could even see a tiny bit of my cheeks showing beneath the bottom of the skimpy shorts. "Man, I hoped the other boys don't see that photo in any of the ads", I thought but then I realized that boys don't look at ads for girls shoes - so I was probably safe. When the weather turned warmer in the spring I realized how much more comfortable the open toed sandals were than my sneakers. Like, when the weather got hot and humid my feet would get all sweaty in my sneakers and I'd have to put in some foot powder to keep them from getting all smelly or developing athlete's foot. But with the sandals my feet were much cooler, and drier, and just generally more comfortable. So I started wearing the sandals all the time - even to school. But I only wore the sandals with no heels and the plain tan ones to school. The yellow sandals, or the white sandals with pink trim and the ones with the two inch platform heels I only wore around the apartment. Wow, I knew that I had been doing a fairly good job of modeling the TomBoy? clothes - at least the photographer had asked me to come back several times - but I hadn't realized how much my photos had impressed the designer of the clothing line. I got a call from the modeling agency, well, Mom really got the call, asking if I would like to do some video commercials for the clothing line instead of the still shots. When they told Mom how much the video shoots paid, she took, like, about 2 microseconds to tell them that I was interested. Actually, I didn't start shooting the videos right away, I had some preparation to do first. Like, the modeling agency, and the sponsor and the photographer all knew that I was a boy, not a girl - and as long as they were just doing still shots it didn't matter. But, well, for a video, I have to move like a girl, and when I open my mouth I have to sound like a girl - and I couldn't do either of those things. So for the last couple of months of the school year and on into the summer, I spent every Saturday and Sunday at the modeling agency being schooled on how to act like a girl. There was one coach to show me how to move my body and my hands, and the proper facial expressions. And there was a voice coach that showed me how to talk with my voice a couple of octaves higher. Most of the stuff really wasn't too hard and by the middle of the summer I could do everything pretty well - the only problem was that if I didn't concentrate really hard, I'd be walking across the set like a girl and all of a sudden I'd slip into a slouch and a boyish gait. Or I'd be talking and all of a sudden my voice would shift back down to that of a teenage boy. So the agency decided that I just had to practice, and practice, and practice till acting like a girl came naturally to me. The plan that they cooked up with my Mom was that for the rest of the summer I'd act the part of a girl - not just on weekends but for twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. I really wasn't wild about this as it would mean that I couldn't hang around with my friends but Mom kept reminding me how much money I'd be making so I reluctantly agreed to go along with their plan. So Mom and the agency stocked our apartment up with a complete girl's wardrobe - everything from panties, to bras (stuffed with breast forms, of course), to slacks, dresses and skirts, blouses and sweaters, to several different styles of girl's shoes. They even got me girl's nighties to wear to bed. At first I was really upset about having to dress and act like a girl all the time, and I'd sneak off my panties and put on a pair of boy's briefs, and stuff like that. But as the summer wore on it just got to feel more and more natural to be wearing girl's clothing. And I even got to like the greater selection of colors and styles that girls had to choose from in their clothing and I spent more time just trying on different combinations, and changing my hair style a little to see which combination made me look cuter. A couple of weeks into the "training", when I got good enough that I wouldn't do anything really stupid, I started going out of the house while wearing girl's clothing and acting and talking like a girl. Initially just on short trips to the supermarket, but eventually on longer and longer trips to the shopping malls where Mom and I would browse through the girl's clothing sections and I'd pick out some samples and try them on in the changing rooms. And if they looked good on me, and I had been doing well with my training that day Mom might even buy me a couple of pieces of clothing to add to my wardrobe as a special treat. Adam called me a couple of times that summer to ask if I wanted to go to a movie, or a baseball game, or to just hang out - but for obvious reasons I couldn't do anything with him. [10th grade] Until I started modeling girl's clothing and kind of had, like, to kind of think about how girls acted, I hadn't really thought about how gross it is the way us boys have to pee. Like we have to stand in front of the urinal, and we have to hold our dicks in our hands to direct the stream, and we have to be careful not to get any of the pee on our hands or our clothes, and then we have to shake off the last few drops of pee. I was thinking about it the other day and it just seems so much, well, more "efficient" the way that girls do it - just squat down on the toilet and pee. So lately I've been doing that - just acting like a girl and squatting down whenever I have to pee. And the other thing is that, well, Girl's Rooms are really just so much, well, nicer than Boy's Rooms. Like, the Boy's Rooms usually have puddles of pee beneath the urinals. And the boys don't always flush the toilets and the Boy's Rooms smell really bad. Mom and I were at the mall the other day and I had to pee really bad, but dressed the way I was I sure couldn't go into the Boy's Room so Mom took me into the Girl's Room with her - I was really nervous but there wasn't anyone else in there so it was okay - I just went into a stall and shut the door and dropped my shorts and panties and squatted down and peed. And anyway, the Girl's Room was so clean and bright and had a nice flowery scent in the air - I really liked it a lot better than the yucky Boy's Rooms. Sometimes I almost wish I could use the Girl's Rooms all the time - but of course I can't. I really wasn't looking forward to going back to school at the end of summer vacation. Well, I was looking forward to getting back together with the friends that I hadn't been able to spend time with during my summer training, but the realization that I'd have to wear boy's clothes to school was kind of a turn off. Yep, no more colorful girl's clothes in their light fabrics for me anymore (at least at school) - it was back to jeans and T-shirts. I did manage to make the situation a little better by wearing girl's panties under my jeans instead of boy's briefs but that was about all that I could do. After about the first week or so of school though, things were getting to be a little, well, "strained" between me and my friends. Every so often, even when I was being careful, my voice would momentarily shift up into its higher girlish pitch. And I had to be careful with my gestures and the way I acted around my friends. I really embarrassed myself the first time I saw my best friend Evan. I squealed "Evan" and ran over to him and threw my arms around him and hugged him. I felt his body go rigid and after a second or two he pulled my arms off of him and stepped back a pace, and looked around to see whether any of the other kids had seen me hugging him, and asked me what my problem was. I just blushed and stammered that I was so glad to see him again after not seeing him for the summer, and . . . . . and . . . . . and then I burst into tears and ran down the hall to the nearest Boy's Room and found an empty stall and shut the door and just sobbed my heart out. After that episode and a couple of others, most of my friends pretty much avoided me. Well, they would say hello to me in the hallway, and if there was a group of them talking about something I could join the group and the conversation, but they didn't want to be seen with me in a one-on-one conversation or sit at the same table with me in the cafeteria. The only one who pretty much treated me as he always had was Adam. The studio shot the first video last weekend and the experience was way different than the still photography. The biggest difference was that they had me put on a particular outfit and then stand in front of something that they called a "green screen." I'd just stand there and they'd give me directions like, "walk off to the right", "turn around", "bend over and look at the floor", "hold your arms out and act like rain is falling on them", and stuff like that. I guess with the "green screen" they can superimpose my image on different backgrounds and add sound effects and music and stuff like that - I didn't really understand everything they told me about the process - but then again I guess that I didn't need to. The director did have one request as we were leaving - my eyebrows needed to be thinned. Yeah, whatever. At least I got to take home the five outfits that I had modeled that day. A couple of months after that one of my "friends" came up to me after school and told me that he had been watching TV the other night and he had seen me in a clothing commercial on one of the cable channels. "Oh, wow, what channel was it on", I asked him, "I hadn't expected the video to show up that soon." "I can't remember", he said, "Just one of those music video channels." But then he continued, "And you looked and acted like some fucking girl", and he turned and walked away from me. I was so shocked that I just burst into tears. I was pretty depressed at the apartment that afternoon so Mom suggested that we go out to supper that night - guess she wanted to cheer me up. After how my former "friend" had treated me after school that day, I didn't really care what the other kids thought so I put on one of the prettier outfits that I had brought home from the video modeling session - a pink top and a pair of shorts with a light plaid pattern of pink and yellow and lime. And I also slipped on a couple of rings and a bracelet that matched my earrings before we went to the restaurant. Mom and I had a nice dinner and we just chatted about all kinds of stuff and I was feeling a lot better. Just as we were finishing dessert someone walked past our booth and then did a double take and stopped and said, "Robin?" I looked up and Adam was standing there. "Hi Adam", I said and blushed a little. "You look really nice", he said before he turned and followed his parents to their table. "A friend of yours?" Mom asked. "Just somebody I know from school", I answered. [11th grade] Wow do I feel sorry for girls - I hadn't realized how much time they had to spend every day on their appearance. By the time I shower and shampoo and condition my hair, then dry and brush it, and clean and buff my fingernails and toenails, tweeze my eyebrows, and shave my legs and armpits and "down there" I've wasted a couple of hours. The other thing was that over the past six months or so I've started to develop more chest hair. What had been just a little light fuzz has turned into thicker, ugly black hair and I have to shave that off as well. Over the past summer I made a couple of changes - the first was makeup. Now I'm not wearing a lot but I'll usually put on a little eye shadow and some lip gloss. The other thing was that since most of the kids at school have seen me modeling girl's clothing in the TV commercials, I decided that there wasn't any point in not wearing girl's clothing all the time. I've still got some boy's clothing in my closet and dresser but I don't wear it any more. Plus, it's kind of funny, but since the sponsor is keeping me supplied with the latest styles in his clothing line, I'm better dressed than most of the girls at school and I think that makes them a little envious. Actually, except for Adam, I haven't been hanging out with the boys at school much this year. It just seems like I've got more in common with the girls and I usually just walk through the halls with them and eat lunch in the cafeteria with them and we talk about movies, and makeup and clothing and all kinds of stuff like that. I guess the only part of their conversation that I can't join in is when they start talking about boys and their boyfriends. Amy was kidding me once that she's seen me and Adam hanging around together and she wondered whether I was "serious" about him. "Serious?" I asked, "Adam's just a friend. Plus he's a boy and, ..... and .....", and my voice just kind of trailed off as I wasn't sure what to say and I just sat there blushing like mad as Amy giggled. Speaking of Adam, he asked me at school yesterday if I'd like to go to a movie with him that night. I didn't have a lot of homework to do so I agreed and he matter-of-factly said that he'd pick my up at 7:15pm for the 8pm show. Right on time he knocked on our apartment door and when I opened it I saw that he had dressed up in a nice sport shirt and some chinos instead of the jeans and T-shirts he usually wears to school. I was glad that I had freshened up my makeup and had put on a medium blue skirt and a white blouse. When we reached his car he opened the passenger door for me and then did the same thing in the mall parking lot. When we got to the ticket booth I was reaching into my purse for my wallet when he said that he was treating tonight. I did get him to agree to let me buy some soda and popcorn. It was kind of nice sitting next to Adam in the darkened theatre and after the movie was over and he took me home, he opened the car door again and walked me to the door of our apartment. "I really enjoyed tonight. Thank you Adam", I said and he was the one who blushed as I turned and went into the apartment. I think I mentioned that the clothing line that I'm modeling is for girls without much of a "figure" if you know what I mean. That doesn't mean that they're totally, well, "flat" but the clothing is designed for a fairly small breast size. And since I don't have any breasts at all, I have to use breast forms to properly fill out the tops of the clothing when I'm modeling. Usually the smallest breast forms, like an A-cup, or maybe even an AA-cup size will work fine. And since I'm wearing the same clothes to school now, I need, well, I need to fill them out the same way. But even when I used the A-cup breast forms I still looked really flat chested compared to the other girls, so I bugged Mom and she bought me a couple of more pairs of breast forms in B-cup and C-cup sizes. I tried on the C-cup first and the result was astounding. The C-cup breast forms were so large that I couldn't get any of my bras on over them so I just used the adhesive to stick them to my chest and when I put on a top, it looked like I had a pair of tits that were just about to explode through the top. So I'm walking around the apartment looking like I had two huge knockers bouncing up and down under my top and it looked so funny that both Mom and I burst out laughing. So after that I stuck with the B-cup forms. I really had to work on Mom but I got the present that I wanted for Christmas - a series of laser hair removal treatments. I had worked on her all fall, and I kept complaining that even with shaving daily, I still had some stubble that had to be covered up with makeup. And I nicked myself (on purpose, of course) several times before photo shoots and the folks at the studio didn't like that. So finally she gave in and paid for a series of treatments for me as a Christmas present. The treatments themselves weren't too bad - we just went to a Dermatologist's office and he put on this numbing cream and then scanned the area with a laser. There was a little redness, kind of like a sunburn afterward, but that only lasted a couple of days - and then a week or so later the old hair started falling out! He couldn't do all the areas of my body that needed the treatment at one time - that took about four visits. Well, and I did have a real argument with him about doing my pubic region. He kept saying that boys never had that area done, and I kept telling him that I didn't care, that I just wanted it done. He finally gave in and treated my whole crotch area - with the exception of that patch just above my penis. And then I had to go back for some shorter follow-up treatments where all the hair hadn't been removed. But by the end of February the treatments had been completed. Wow, do I love the way my skin looks so soft and smooth without all that body hair! Had a really, really bad experience at school last week. I had lingered after my last class for awhile to finish up a project in the Biology lab and when I was finally done, the school wasn't completely empty but there weren't all that many other students around. Before heading home I stopped in the Boy's Room to pee and when I was done and had pulled up my panties and skirt and stepped out of the stall, I almost ran into Louis Brock. Now in the best of situations Louis isn't my idea of a friendly guy - he's loud and annoying, he's tried to get his hands on me a couple of times - and he has dirty fingernails, greasy hair and a lot of pimples. So Louis is standing there smiling at me and he's got one of his hands down in his crotch rubbing the bulge there in his jeans. As I tried to walk past him he grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my and forced me to kneel down on the floor in front of him. "Sweet thing", he said, "I know that you've wanted to suck my cock for a long time so now I'm going to give you a chance", and he unzipped his fly with his other hand and pulled out his dick. So I'm trying to get away from him and his dick, which is, like, right in front of my face and Louis is saying, "Come on, put it in your mouth or I'll break your arm." At that point I didn't care whether he broke my arm or not and I just said, "Break it if you want. There's no way that I'm going to take that pitiful little prick of yours in my mouth." That might not have been the best thing to say as he got really mad and started twisting my arm up behind me even harder. In desperation, I leaned forward as if I was going to take his dick in my mouth and then suddenly butted him in the crotch with my head as hard as I could. He yelled in pain and threw me off to the side where I hit my head on a sink but after a few seconds of seeing stars I was able to get to my feet and run out of the Boy's Room while Louis was still lying on the floor and moaning in pain. I ran sobbing out of the Boy's Room and almost into the arms of three other girls that were in the hallway. I managed to tell them what had happened and they got me quieted down and took me to the Guidance Office where one of the counselors called the police and then my Mom and then the Principal and Assistant Principal. In about fifteen minutes there was a pretty good-sized group in the office when everybody showed up and the cops brought Louis in for a minute so that I could identify him. By that time my right eye was beginning to swell shut from where I had hit the sink and my Mom wanted to take me to the doctor, yelling back over her shoulder as we left that she was going to sue the school, the Principal, the Board of Education, the Mayor, our State Senators, and on, and on. Mom can get pretty worked up at times .......... Actually, except for a swollen eye that day and a monstrous black eye the next day I was pretty much OK. And the funny thing was that when I went back to school two days later, I was, like, some kind of a local hero. Turns out that almost no one at the school liked Louis and the story of how I had head butted him in the crotch and left him writhing and crying on the floor of the Boy's Room had spread through the halls in just a few minutes. I'd walk past a group of boys in the hall and they'd all cover up their crotches with their hands and shrink back from me in mock terror and then give me the thumbs up sign. And several of the girls patted me on the back and one said, "Way to go girl!" A nice reception! Louis? Well he's attending an alternative school over on the other side of the city now. Oh, and one other thing. The Principal politely told my Mom that he had been getting a few complaints from boy's parents about me using the Boy's Room at school. And because of that and the incident with Louis he would prefer that I use the Girl's Room from now on, if that was OK with me, of course. Man, was that OK with me! [12th grade] As the summer vacation between my Junior and Senior years drew to a close, Adam called me up one day and asked if he could take me out to dinner and a movie to celebrate my birthday. I thought about that for all of a split second and squealed, "Oh, wow, like sure!" So he picked me up the next night and we went to an Italian restaurant, and the food was good, and it felt so nice to be sitting next to Adam in the booth, and as we were finishing dessert he slid a small gift wrapped box over to me and whispered, "Happy Birthday", in my ear. When I opened the box I found that it contained a small bottle of perfume - and not the cheap drug store stuff but a very expensive brand. Oh, I was so happy at that moment that I began to cry, and then I threw my arms around Adam and kissed him - right on the lips! And we held hands in the movie, and then when he walked me to the apartment afterward he kissed me - right on the lips! And I was so excited and wound up that I hardly slept at all that night, and I was really tired and grouchy the next morning, and got mad at Mom over something, and yelled at her and got grounded for the rest of the week. Oh well ..... The first time I saw Amy after that, I went up to her and whispered, "Yes I am", in her ear. For several seconds she was like, "What's she talking about", and then she remembered what she had asked me in the Cafeteria last year, and she got this big smile on her face and we hugged. That fall I asked Mom if we could redecorate my bedroom. Nothing had been done to it since I was a little kid and I was tired of the grungy brown carpet and window curtains and the blue walls. Mom agreed that there was enough money coming in from the new commercials and the residuals on the old ones that we could do a nice job of redecorating. So we threw out all my old furniture and bought a new dresser, desk and canopy bed - all painted white with gold and pink trim. The walls were painted a light pink and a new darker pink rug was installed. Mom and I had so much fun browsing through catalogs, and online, and looking at samples in the stores that it was almost a letdown when the new furniture, paint and rug were complete. We also had to buy new bedding for the bed and we picked out some really pretty white silk sheets with little red roses on them as trim, and a pink comforter with white lace trim, and white lacy window curtains with red rose trim that matched the sheets. Wow! My bedroom was now just the way I wanted it - and it's so pretty! I even put a little of the perfume that Adam gave me on my pillow so that I could smell it as I went to sleep at night and dreamed about him. Every year near graduation time the Senior class puts on the Senior Class Play. I had helped out before but mostly backstage stuff - painting the scenery, helping the other girls with their makeup, sewing costumes and things like that. But this year I decided to go all out and tryout for an acting part. This year the school decided to put on "West Side Story." Now the voice coach that I had been working with at the agency had helped me out with my singing as well and I have a fairly powerful Soprano singing voice. So I tried out for the part of Maria and, ..... and, ..... and I WON THE PART! When the Director told me that I had won the part I, like, burst into tears and I'm like hugging the other girls and they're all crying too - well, except for the other girl who had wanted the part. So the whole cast worked really hard and the whole thing came together really well. The second best part of the play for me was on opening night when the performance got to the part where I sing "I Feel Pretty" and as I sang the words: "See the pretty girl in that mirror there: Who can that attractive girl be? Such a pretty face, Such a pretty dress, Such a pretty smile, Such a pretty me!" The whole audience started whistling and stomping their feet and clapping and cheering and I was so happy that I burst out in tears and that made them clap and cheer even louder. The first best part? Well, the first best part was also on the opening night of the play when the cast was doing the curtain calls and someone came out from the wings and walked up to me and handed me a huge bouquet of roses - and it was ADAM! So I'm so happy that I'm crying again and tears are running down my face and Adam moves closer and puts his arms around me and gives me a big kiss right in front of the whole audience and that gets them whistling and clapping and cheering again. That was the best night of my life.