The Au Pair free porn video

The Au Pair by RH Music Author's Note: Hey everybody. I just wanted to emphasize that this is story has no sex, kinky or otherwise. It's just a sweet TG novel. Enjoy. -RH Chapter 1 ------- - -occupied- Ken locked the door of the airplane toilet. The overhead light and ventilation fan automatically clicked on. For the first time in his young life, Ken was completely free. He had broken free of society and its arbitrary laws which he had studiously observed every minute of his life until now. It was exhilarating and terrifying and he closed his eyes and breathed in deep to savor the moment. Letting his mind wander, he could imagine his body outside, floating alongside the plane - watching the English countryside slip away over the horizon. "Let it go," he thought, "I don't care to ever see it again." He looked ahead across the blissfully smooth sea. He felt suspended. Ken let his breath out slowly and opened his eyes to his reflection in the mirror. The image was impossible for him to interpret objectively. He had worked so hard, like an artist laboriously touching up his masterpiece. Had he lost the concept of the whole in the details? But no, the image before him, once he could tear his eyes away from the imperfections, was undeniably female, even beautiful, after a fashion. It was this feminine image which was responsible for a deep subconscious confusion. He had been moving down a dead-end, and now, in the process of changing direction, he found himself lost - uncertain and confused about his new identity. The WC was now occupied, but by whom? Ken reached into his handbag and pulled out a passport. Holding it up he compared it to the image in the mirror. The likeness was very close - a week of study and experimentation, correcting details, shading, highlighting, and now even a harsh fluorescent light could not reveal his true identity. Intellectually, he knew that no one would question the passport holder - he had passed the test twice already. But the most difficult test was ahead of him, and, if he allowed himself to dwell on it, he had to admit that he was terrified. Ken looked at the passport again. It was not his, so he held it like a treasure map, and was excessively careful with it. Paradoxically, it was both his means of escape and his link to his past for it properly belonged to his younger sister, Kathy. As brother and sister, they looked strikingly similar - until puberty they had often been mistaken for each other. All that was required was a few subtle adjustments using makeup, a new style for his long hair, blonde highlights, earrings, and the transformation was complete. His face was naturally narrow making his eyes look large and expressive. As a man, people would say that he was gaunt and awkward, with spindly arms, sallow cheeks, and thin legs that made him look taller than he really was. Upon further study, one might notice that Ken was uncomfortable in public, with tentative and uncertain body movements that made him timid and awkward. But this gaunt and spindly frame turned out to be the perfect template for creating a svelte female form. Padding and cinching could be used to emphasize feminine curves, but, except for the bosom, none was really necessary. When completely dressed, not a trace of the typical, cylindrical male torso could be found. It was only recently that he had taken up hormone therapy, which, at this point, only added a subtle emphasis to his curves. Beyond padding, Ken possessed an additional secret for creating the perfect body. It was his special discovery, and it was simple. Starvation. It had started as a form of rebellion. Every pang of hunger he felt, every meal that he skipped, every time he forced himself to vomit was a badge of honor, a token of resistance against his inflexible, blind, unfeeling parents. Couldn't they see how unhappy he was? Didn't they care? His mother might occasionally remark, "you should eat more, you're positively wasting away," but these sentiments were spoken with an abstract air, not out of true concern. If it had been otherwise, why did she never take the time to ask how he was feeling? Ken knew that he was an embarrassment to his family. The only time he had ventured to express his true feelings had been brutally rebuffed. "What are you doing, Ken?" Ken's mom was standing in the doorway to his room. His parents had come home unexpectedly early from their shopping trip. "Mum!" Ken dropped the lipstick he was holding - his lips (the color was too red, he now realized) were painted on only one side - giving him a crazed and clownish look. Worse, he was wearing a flower-print house dress. "Ummm..... I was just playing..." "Is this what you do while I'm at work all day? Is this how you use your free time?" "No! I mean... Well, sometimes yes, but..." She cut him off. "Get out of that ridiculous costume, right this minute! I will not have my son acting like some painted pervert in my own home!" "Mother!" "What's all the fuss?" "Dad..." Ken wilted. He let his hands drop to his side and felt his eyes well up with tears of anguish. "Why are you wearing that ridiculous outfit? Kenneth Charles William Shore! Answer me!" "I..." Ken hesitated to tell the truth, but in the end could think of nothing else to say. "I like wearing girl's clothes," he said, lamely. The shocked expression on his father's face was followed quickly by a verbal explosion. "Why, you bloody ungrateful... Bugger! Is this what you want? Bring shame on your family? Ruin my career? You want to embarrass and disgrace us?" "No! I just..." "Just what?" "Sometimes, I just want to be someone else," Ken whimpered. "That's crap! Fucking crap!! Over my dead body! You are my only son, that's who you are, and that's who you will be, whether you like it or not!" Ken's father took two large steps forward and roughly grasped Ken by the shoulders, physically pulling him up off the chair and shaking him violently. "You are not a fucking girl and you are going to act like a proper man if I have to beat it into you!!" Ken had never seen his father this angry before, and it was the first time he had ever heard him swear. Ken's mother stood at the door, scared, helpless, and confused. "You like wearing women's clothing? Where do you keep them?" He threw Ken roughly to the floor causing Ken's head to bang against his desk. Ken lay on the floor, hands clutched to his head, rocking and crying with pain and humiliation. "Are they in here?" Ken's father grasped the handles to the top drawer of the dresser and tore the drawer out with a dreadful wrench. As he tossed it to the ground, the drawer broke into pieces and underwear scattered everywhere revealing Ken's secret stash of lingerie hidden underneath. "My God, this is disgusting!! Throw this away!" Picking up the panties and slips, holding each one like it was toxic, he thrust them at his wife. Blood from the cut on his the head was now seeping out from around Ken's fingers. Seeing this, Ken's mother dropped the lingerie and rushed over to Ken. "Henry!" she shouted at her husband. Ken's father opened up the next drawer and dumped its contents on the bed. A second dress, the only other one which Ken owned, was revealed. "HENRY!" she screamed. "YES??" He turned to stare at her, eyes wild. "Look what you've done to your son! Get out of here this instant!" "NO! It serves that bastard right!" Ken's father took the dress and in a violent spasm managed to rip it cleanly in two. Ken's mother stood up and slapped him hard across the face with the back of her hand. Stunned, but still trembling with anger, Ken's father looked at the two halves of the torn dress in his hands and then looked over to Ken, who was now sobbing hysterically as blood ran down his face and dripped onto the floor. "Clean this up, and destroy these... these... disgusting things, all of them! Or I swear..." Shaking, Ken's father never finished the threat, but stormed out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door with a slam that rattled the windows. Humiliated and terrified, Ken complied with the order, filling up a garbage bag with all of his special clothes, makeup and magazines. He gave the bag to his mother, who, without looking at the contents or saying a word, took it to the local incinerator. Ken could feel a part of him burning into ashes and floating away. Not another word was ever spoken of the incident. - - - - - - - - - - - - That same evening, after a tense family dinner ("What's going on? Why's everyone so quiet?" Ken's sister Kathy had asked, in her normal, annoyingly inquisitive fashion), Ken staggered into the bathroom and threw up his entire meal, the stress and anguish being too much. This launched another wave of sobbing and self pity, and it was then, with his cheek against the comfortingly cool ceramic of the toilet rim, that he hatched his plan: he would starve himself to death. It wasn't enough to just commit suicide, he was going to do it in such a way as to cause maximum suffering. Only then would his parents understand what they had done to him. But after a month of trying, Ken realized that he lacked the willpower, and so he gave up. In the process he had purged himself dozens of times, and it was then that he made a strange discovery: it felt good to vomit. He had gotten used to the rank smell, he was able to do it cleanly and quickly, and afterwards a feeling of relief would wash over him and calm his anxiety. And so, vomiting became something he did because it made him feel good, not only from the act itself, but also how it provided him a measure of control over his own body. "Does this mean I'm anorexic?" he wondered. He didn't know for sure. He wasn't a woman, after all, and weren't they the only ones who had eating disorders? But one thing was for certain, he loved the new shape of his body. And so, back in the airplane, Ken carefully arranged his skirt so that it wouldn't get soiled and knelt down on the floor of the airplane lavatory. Holding his long hair out of the way, he placed a finger at the back of his throat and quickly and efficiently threw up his in- flight lunch. After he was done, Ken leaned against the wall for a second with his eyes closed, his life on the brink. Ken cleaned up, unlatched the door and worked his way back to his seat. Chapter 2 ------- - Ken sat on his lone suitcase in the arrivals area, searching the crowd for his new American family. Where were they? He had landed over two hours ago and was still in the airport. Phone calls to their house only got an answering machine. The crowd ebbed and flowed around him. Families with children, overweight limo drivers with hand-printed signs, business colleagues, young couples, and everyone else seemed to find each other. Joyous reunions were played out over and over before Ken's envious eyes. In a moment of dizziness, Ken teetered on his suitcase and toppled to the floor, legs sprawled wide and skirt splayed open. He quickly got up, brushed off, righted the suitcase, and sat back down, holding his hands to his face and massaging his eyes he tried to shut out the confusion and melee which swirled around him. Ken was dirty, hot, and fatally tired. He had been awake for 37 hours, having slept only fitfully on the plane, and he was so tired that he had no coherent thoughts, only panicky feelings. He wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a cup of warm tea with milk and honey. The night before he had stayed up until 2:30 in the morning, waiting until everyone else was sure to be asleep. Picking up his suitcase he carefully crept out of house and left by the back door. Walking down the street to a local grocery store, he called for a taxi. Hopefully his parents would both leave for work and, since it was a school holiday, would not bother to wake him. With luck his absence would not be discovered until late today. Ken, afraid of nodding off, stood up to stretch his legs, wincing as his pinched toes complained. 2" heels, he had reasoned, no problem! But his feet were now in real pain, and so he quickly sat back down, nearly falling again on the unstable suitcase which he now realized was missing a foot. Ken looked down at his rumbled clothes and thought back to when he had picked them out with his transsexual friend Sandra. "No, no!" his friend Sandra had said. Sandra was a fairly famous architect in the city and so was fairly well traveled. "You don't want to wear that!" Ken had picked out a short pin-striped skirt with a wide open-collar shirt. "Why not?" Ken asked. "It looks just like this skirt I saw at DKNY." Sandra shook his head. "No, no. They don't want you to look like a Yank, see? It's way too short and revealing. I mean, you've got the body for it, no problem there! I don't know how you do it. But no. What they will want is for you to look like a proper English lady. Try this instead." Ken took the hanger from Sandra and went to try it on. Sandra had picked out a light brown suit, narrow-cut, classic, and hemmed just to the knee with a soft light-weight wool fabric, and a fashionably long suit jacket. When Ken stepped out of the changing room Sandra whistled. "See? It's perfect! You are the very picture of a modest, but capable young women. That's what they'll be looking for." Ken looked at himself in the mirror. The cut on the jacket was perfect and wonderfully accented his narrow waist. Ken turned over the price tag price tag and gasped. "But Sandra! It's much too expensive. I can't possibly afford it!" "Tut tut!" Sandra clucked. "It's my treat." - - - - - - - But now he looked horrible! The light brown suit that had looked so sharp was now rumpled and dirty. His stretch cotton blouse, chosen to generously hug his curves and accentuate his fake breasts, now felt sticky and damp. He resisted the temptation to scratch his chest where the under wire bra dug in cruelly. He desperately wanted to impress his new American hosts. "But how impressive can I possibly be, like this?" he fretted. Ken thought back with longing to his transsexual friend Sandra and his wife Sarah. Lost and alone in this huge new country, he was already homesick for them. It was through a transgender support group that Ken was first put in contact with Sandra. Ken never actually went to any of the meetings, it would have been impossible given how carefully his parents watched over him, but the organizer of the group had suggested that Ken talk to Sandra, who lived just a short bicycle ride away. For nearly half a year, Ken had held on to Sandra's phone number, unable to muster the courage to make the call. It was only after the terrible fight with his parents that he found the courage to do so. Not reserved or snooty at all, the Dickinsons welcomed Ken wholeheartedly into their household and unconditionally accepted him as a young woman. Sandra was English, but born and raised in California. His wife Sarah was a seamstress who loved to sew pretty dresses and was more than delighted to have one more willing and appreciative model to wear her designs. Ken never ventured from home dressed 'en femme' for fear of running into his real family, but Sandra did, and with relish. He was so flamboyant that he could carry off any outfit that Sarah devised. How he could be so honestly oblivious to the curious stares around him was a source of inspiration to Ken, who had lived his life fairly dictated by the perceptions of others. Perhaps it was Sandra's job, as an art and architecture critic for one of the London broadsheets, which gave him the strength, for in his job he had to put up with a great deal of enmity from those who disagreed with his opinions. The first time that Ken went to visit, for tea, was just after the stitches had been removed from the blow to his head. Although Ken was too discreet to blame his parents, some bitterness inevitably leaked out, and he suspected that Sandra and Sarah had an inkling that the cut was not entirely accidental. Perhaps because of this, Sandra and Sarah started calling Ken their 'adopted daughter', a pet name which brought a contented smile to his lips, even now. They encouraged him to call them "Mum" and "Dad", and it was through their care that Ken gained back some of the self confidence, fun, and love of experimentation that he had lost. "They saved my life," Ken reflected simply, for after meeting them he soon abandoned his plans to commit suicide. It was in the spirit of adopted family connections that Sandra and Sarah eventually agreed to become accomplices in Ken's plan to become an Au Pair in America. Being around Sandra, and watching American movies and shows, Ken had naturally come to assume that America was chock full of tolerant, creative, fun-loving, uninhibited people, and so he had sent in his application to the Au Pair program, taking the name of his sister, Kathy, and listing the Dickinsons as his guardians. Sandra and Ken handled phone calls and interviews easily and honestly, albeit from their more liberal point of view. Even though Sandra did not himself dress full-time as a woman, he had absolutely no problem with Ken passing himself off as one, for Sandra knew dozens of such transsexuals in England doing the same, many of them married like he was. "Listen carefully to your heart," Sandra often said, "for it will never steer you wrong." "Of course," he added, with a twinkle, "it can take an entire lifetime to learn how to listen." - - - - - - - - "Hi, um... are you Kathy?" Ken looked up hopefully at the lady before him. She was dressed casually in black sweat pants and a white T-Shirt and was carrying a car seat with a sleeping baby in it. Curiously, she was holding a hand behind her back. Her hair, pulled into a bun, was dark brown and frizzy, and her eyes seemed heavy lidded, as if it was too much effort to open them all the way. Ken might have called her round face beautiful, but it was missing any sense of sparkle. "Yes... are you Mrs. Johnson?" Tina put down the car seat. "Hi Kathy, welcome to America, and please, call me Tina, otherwise you'll make me feel so old! I hope you haven't been waiting long? My husband, Brian, apparently got the time of your arrival wrong, I'm so sorry." Tina scowled at having to apologize for her husband's mistake. "Also I thought he'd be here to come greet you, but apparently he was held up at the office." Ken carefully stood up on unsteady legs and gently shook the limp hand offered to him. "No problem about the wait," he said courteously. Leaning over to look in the car seat, "And, is this Michael?" "Yes it is, and this," with a grunt, Tina pulled her hand from behind her back exposing a little girl in a pink glittery lame' leotard with a mesh tutu, "is Julie. Say hello to your new nanny, Julie!" Julie scurried back behind her mother, burying her face in her mother's skirt. "It's Julie-ina!" she said, adamantly. Tina rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes, well then, say hello to Kathy, Julie-ina." Not budging an inch from behind her mother, Julie called out a small "Hello". Ken knelt down to be eye-to-eye with Julie, who peaked out. "I am very pleased to meet you, Julie-ina. That's certainly a very curious name for a little girl, how did you come by it?" "She's just started ballet lessons," Tina explained, "and now she refuses to be called anything but 'Julie-ina Ballerina' and wants to wear her special tutu all the time." Ken could tell that Tina was embarrassed for her daughter. Jokingly Tina turned to her daughter. "You know, Julie-ina, you can't go to a job interview wearing a tutu, you'll need to be dressed much more appropriately, like Kathy here. Doesn't she look elegant dressed like that?" Ken smiled at the compliment, but could tell that Julie didn't have any idea what her mother was going on about. Julie, six years old, looked almost exactly like her mother, with long untamed curly hair and a round, pudgy face with freckles. She was adorable, just the kind of little girl to break her father's heart, or to raise Satan with a tantrum. Ken turned to Michael, sleeping peacefully. "What a beautiful baby! How old is he?" "8 months, and, I'm afraid to say, still not sleeping through the night. Sorry about that." "No problem at all, I certainly understand," Ken answered with more confidence than he felt. Ken was woefully ignorant when it came to handling children. His sister was only 2 years younger than he was, so he had never really helped with her. When he had fretted to the Dickinsons about his inexperience, Sandra would just brush away his concerns. "Don't worry," he had said, "you have a gentle nature. Just treat the child with all of the respect and attention that you would treat any adult and you'll be fine." "Well!" Tina said, "Now that we are all introduced, shall we head home?" "Mommy!" Julie cried out. "Yes, dear?" Tina asked, patiently. "The red plane! I want to go on the red plane!" "There's a little playground for children upstairs which has a red jungle gym shaped like a plane," Tina explained to Ken. To Julie she said, "No dear. I'm sure that Kathy is very tired, we should take her home so she can rest from her long journey." "NO!" Julie screamed, turning heads in the arrival area. "You said I could play on the red plane! I want to go play on the red plane! Now!" Julie stamped her foot in frustration and began to gasp, the precursor to outright wailing. Ken could sympathize, for that's exactly how he felt himself, suffering from that special brand of anxiousness that only extreme exhaustion can bring. But desperately wanting to impress his new American hostess, he said, "It would be alright to spend some time on the red aeroplane, really. I'm not that tired. Let's go, Julie." Tears forgotten, Julie ran to the escalators with a squeal. "Julie!" Tina called, "come back here!" To Ken she asked, "Are you sure? You look really tired." "I'm perfectly fine, really," Ken lied, and then picked up his suitcase and trotted to catch up with Julie. - - - - - - - - - - Dearest Sandra & Sarah: If I'm so tired, why can't I sleep? Woke up at 4:30am (stupid time zones). At least now I have time to write to you! No problems with US customs, btw. They just waved me through! I'm a fugitive! Don't tell! Tina Johnson and the children (Julie and Michael) are very nice. Julie will be my responsibility. Dear me! She's a little hellion. Tina thinks she has 'separation anxiety' since M. (8yo) was born. I think she's just spoiled (when she's not being heart-breakingly cute). Three tantrums and she threw a book at her brother today. I worry about Tina. She seems depressed and criticizes Brian (the father) all the time. Apparently he works all the time and doesn't help out with the house or children except to tell Tina what not to do. Please hold on --- I just changed my first nappy! Thank god for disposables! Michael was fussing and I noticed the smell straight away. Putting the diaper on a moving target was a challenge, but managed it OK. He was fussy, so I rocked him to sleep. OMG, a sleeping baby in my arms... is there anything more precious? But Sarah! What am I going to do about my breasts! I took off my bra and falsies to sleep, then forgot! What if someone had seen poor, flat chested me? I think I'll have to sleep with my falsies on to avoid mistakes in the future, until the hormones start to take effect. Sandra, you should see this old house. You'd love it! It's *huge* and gorgeous with fantastic shingles in wavy patterns and a huge tower on one side and such incredible details (brackets and trim). Too bad the interior is so run down. My WC is missing tiles all over, and the downstairs is a nightmare. Oh, and it's got a pool! Too bad it's filled with mud. Love and kisses, I miss you terribly, and if you don't write back right away I shall hunt you down, Kathy. PS: It's still early. Maybe I'll take a walk around the woods out back. Chapter 3 ------- - KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE "Oh shit!" Ken quickly closed the back door. KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE "Damn it! It's not stopping!" Ken rushed down the hall, and was knocked backwards! Lying on the floor, Ken looked up to see a tall man standing over him, wet, soapy, and naked except for a towel that was grasped tenuously around his waist. The man was of muscular build, hairy chest, bushy eyebrows, and with a friendly puppy-dog and shaggy, unkempt, dark brown hair. KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE He looked at Ken with wild confusion, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" he shouted. "THE AU PAIR!" Ken shouted back. "WHO?" "THE NANNY!" KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE-KREE The man shook his head. Turning, he raced down the hall. Too fast! "AAAAAAGGGH!" His soapy feet slipped out from under him. WHAM! he fell on his backside and continued to slide down the hall from his momentum until he slid into the door at the end of the hallway with a loud crunch. "Fuck!" He scrambling up. Punching the code into the control panel, the shrieking finally stopped. Ken sighed with relief, got up, and walked down the hall. The sound of the alarm replaced by a ringing in his ears. "Are you OK?" Ken asked, tentatively. "Uh, fine." The man was now completely naked. The towel lay on the floor. He and Ken locked eyes for a split second. "Oh! I'm sorry." Ken hid his eyes and turned his head away. "Um, my name is Kathy," he said from behind his hands, "I'm the new au pair... ah... the nanny." "You can look now." Ken uncovered his eyes. The other man had fetched the towel and was now (somewhat) covered again. He walked up to Ken and held out his hand. "My name is Brian. Pleased to meet you." Ken received a wet and soapy handshake. "What's going on down here?" Tina had rushed downstairs in her cotton PJs. She looked her husband up and down and couldn't resist a giggle. "Oh, Hi Brian!" she continued, lightly. "I see you've met our new Au Pair?" Brian returned a withering look. "Yes, we just introduced ourselves." Annoyed Tina turned back to Ken, "I must thank you, Kathy! For arranging this rare meeting between my husband and me." Brian set his jaw. "Please don't, Tina." "Don't what?" Brian paused for a second, trying to decide if he should pursue the argument. "Never mind. Kathy is it? Sorry about this. We alarm all of the outside doors at night. You must have set it off by trying to exit the back door?" Ken nodded. "Yes, I... ah... woke up early and was just going to go out for get some fresh air. I'm so sorry!" "No problem, it happens every now and then. Well, I better finish my shower, but Kathy, if you need anything, don't hesitate to just ask." With that Brian bounded back up stairs. Ken called up after him, "Well, actually, the tiles in my shower needs to be repaired, if it's not too much trouble." "Oh, that's right!" Brian called down. "We'll have to fix that some day." Ken could hear the bathroom close and the water start running again. Ken looked over at Tina who just rolled her eyes. The sound of a baby crying filled the house. "That must be Michael," sighed Tina. "Kathy, I need to go feed him. Could you get Julie up and dressed? Just pick out something nice for school. She is *not* allowed to go as a ballerina. That's where I draw the line." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Julie?" Ken walked up to the lump in the bed. Julie's bedroom was a strange combination of bare walls and cluttered floors, as if an earthquake had come and knocked everything down. Ken gently shook the lump. "Julie? It's time to get up now." How could she have slept through the burglar alarm? he wondered. "Julie?" Ken shook the lump harder, until he heard muffled giggling. Smiling Ken put on his mock-angry voice. "Julie! How dare you pretend to be asleep like that!" "I'm not pretending! I am asleep!" "No you're not, you silly girl!" And with that Ken reached over and tickled the lump, causing a shriek of laughter to come from within. Ken pulled down the covers and exposed the rumpled Julie, wearing a nightgown covered in little teddy bears. "I fooled you! I fooled you!" she giggled hysterically. "Yes you did. Now come on. You need to get dressed for school." Ken grasped the hem of the nightgown and pulled it off Julie, who obediently held her arms up. Julie took off her panties and scampered out of the room, saying, "I need to go potty!" Ken sat down on the bed for a second, swallowing hard. A young girl had just completely undressed in front of him, not once suspecting that he was a man. Somehow all of his dressing up, learning to behave as a woman in public, mingling with others - all that paled in comparison to this simple girl who accepted him without hesitation. Julie skipped back into the room, still naked. "All done!" she said proudly. She ran to her dresser, got a clean pair of undies and put them on. "I wanna be Julie-ina ballerina!" she stated as she ran over to her ballet outfit. "I'm sorry, Julie, but your mother said I should pick out something nice for school." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Forty minutes later they finally made it downstairs. Julie was wearing a simple corduroy plaid jumper and white cotton blouse. "Hi sleepyhead," Tina called to her daughter as the two entered the kitchen. Ken smiled and guided Julie to the breakfast table. She clambered up to her booster chair. "What would you like for breakfast?" he asked. "Cereal." "Very good." Ken walked over to the cabinets to get a bowl. He looked down and noticed the wine bottle from last night on the countertop. Tina had opened a new bottle for dinner last night and now it was completely empty. Ken got out a box of cereal and some milk. "Not that kind!" "Not that kind of what?" "Yuck! Blue milk!" Tina was grinding coffee. "She doesn't like the skim milk. Get her the 2%." Ken looked up at Tina and saw the bags and wrinkles around her eyes. Tina held the back of her hand to her forehead. "Are you OK?" Ken asked, as he fetched the 2%. "Fine, just a headache," Tina replied. "That's mommy's cereal! I don't want that." Tina brought over another box of cereal and handed it to Ken. "Sorry 'bout that," she said, "Julie likes this kind. It's too sweet for my taste, but she seems to like it. Although god knows she doesn't need the extra energy." Ken poured cereal and milk for both Julie and himself and then fetched some orange juice. The two ate together. When she had eaten enough, Julie jumped out of her chair and ran upstairs. "Julie!" Tina called up. "Get your books and come right down! The bus will be here in just 5 minutes!" After several long minutes Julie pranced back into the kitchen, now dressed in her pink lame' tutu. "I'm Julie-ina Ballerina!" she declared, triumphantly, raising a sparkly gold wand over her head, "with my magic golden scepter!" - - - - - - - - - - - - Ken entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He sat down on the tile floor and placed his head on the rim of the toilet bowl. "Goodness," he thought, "is this what it's like to raise a child? Already I'm exhausted!" Ken looked into the toilet bowl, trying to decide what to do. It had been a stressful day. After Julie-ina's surprise entrance, Ken had chased her around the room, finally catching her and carrying her upstairs. Julie had liked that part. But when they got upstairs, Ken had insisted that Julie changes into school clothes. She had resisted and it seemed that nothing he could do would change her mind. When Ken reach for her magic wand, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Finally, after persistent use of flattery, "You look like such a beautiful young woman in your school clothes!" combined with adult reasoning "You know you can't go to school in just a tutu, you would be so beautiful that it would distract all your teachers and classmates," Julie finally relented. Ken doubted that she was moved by his arguments. More likely she was just bored and realized that he wouldn't go away until she gave in. Once changed Tina drove Julie to school while Ken watched Michael. Michael was easy, Ken thought. Why can't all children be like this? Unable to move, unable to get into trouble, and happy all the time except when he needs to be fed or changed. Finally Tina was back home and Ken had some time to himself. Ken leaned over the toilet bowl and used a finger to help him regurgitate his breakfast. Feeling better, he stood up and stripped. Off came his black skirt, white cotton blouse, bra, breast forms, flat pumps, pantyhose, panties, and waist cinch. The waist cinch was just a six inch wide piece of stretchy fabric with Velcro on the ends which went around his middle. Ken realized that he didn't really need it, but it did help to emphasize the difference between his waist and hips. Ken took a second to examine himself in the mirror. His young body was rail-thin, with no hair and a small penis. As he held his arms up and turned this way and that, Ken examined his breasts closely for growth. They were certainly sensitive and warm, but he could detect only the slightest swelling from the hormones. Ken went through the motions of checking his breasts for lumps. His doctor in England had thought it was a good idea, and Ken was happy to make this little ritual a part of his daily routine. How could anyone confuse this body for a woman? Ken had no idea. In the mirror he was no more than a scared young man, graceless and emaciated. The opposite of womanhood, this was not a body that could carry a baby. It was an image that he recognized as his own, but he did not identify with it, kind of like the black and white photo of his father as a teenager. The photo sat on his mother's dresser, and Ken could not see a single trace of the father he knew in the picture of the roguish boy, who sat on the deck of a ship, arms crossed, with a smug and self confident smile. With a sigh Ken pulled away from the mirror and started his shower. At some point, while washing his feet, his elbow bumped the wall. "Uh oh." With water cascading around him, Ken examined the hole he had just created. A tile had been pushed right into the wall, where it had disappeared. Tapping around with a fingernail, it sounded like the entire wall was hollow. Working more carefully Ken finished up and turned off the shower. He ran his long hair through his hands to squeeze out the excess water. *thunk*. The bar of soap slipped off the soap dish and fell to the floor. "Huh," Ken mused. He placed the soap back onto the soap dish. *thunk*. It fell down again. Apparently the heavy ceramic dish had pulled away from the wall. Ken tried to push it back into the wall. *tik* "Uh oh." A crack formed, running horizontally the length of the wall, between two rows of tiles. Ken backed up, brushing up against the shower curtain. Two more tiles broke off and clattered into the tub. A second crack raced up the wall and another tile fell into the tub. "Shit..." *CRACK*, the entire wall of tile shifted, slid down an inch, hit the edge of the tub, and collapsed. "AAAAAGH!" Ken screamed, as the tiles crashed around his feet with plaster flying everywhere. Ken stumbled backwards over the side of the tub, right through the shower curtain, which he ripped from the rod with a loud series of popping sounds. Ken fell with a hard *whump* onto the floor. Coughing and gasping, blinded by the plaster dust, Ken reached for a towel and covered his face with it, trying to breath. "Kathy! What's going on in there?" Tina was pounding on the door. "Kathy! Are you alright?" Tina tried the door, but it was locked. "Do I need to break this door down?" "No!" Ken choked out. "One second!" Quick! Ken thought. Hide the breast forms! Hide the cinch! Ken stumbled around the room, unable to breath, unable to see. He fumbled for the items and stuffed them under the sink. "What's happening in there? Unlock this door!" Frantically Ken scrambled to put on a pair of panties. Lungs bursting, he gathered a towel over his chest and finally burst out of the door. "The wall," Ken said coughing, "collapsed!" Ken fell to his knees, coughing spasmodically, caked head to toe in white plaster dust. He clutched his towel tightly to his chest, trying desperately to hide his body. Tina rushed in, coughing and choking on the dust, turning on the ventilation fan to clear the air. "My God!" she exclaimed, surveying the destruction, "are you okay? You could have been seriously hurt!" Tina returned to Ken and knelt down beside him. "Are you sure you're OK?" "Yes, I'm fine." Ken relaxed, breathing more slowly. Ken looked over at Tina, who had a wide grin on her face. "What?" "You!" Tina giggled. "You look like the victim of a bakery accident!!" Ken smiled. 'Thank god,' he thought to himself. 'She doesn't notice!' Out loud he said, "I'm so sorry about the wall. First some tiles fell off, then the soap dish..." Tina cut him off. "Please don't worry about it Kathy, I understand. I don't know why Brian wanted you to use this bathroom, you could have got yourself killed! I've been telling him for months now that he needs to get it repaired, but he doesn't listen to me." Tina's face pinched up. "I'm so sorry! Just use the children's bathroom until we can get this one fixed up. Go now." Chapter 4 ------- - Ken walked out the front door and down the street, admiring the houses in the neighborhood. They looked to be historic, many three stories high, and with wings added on to create sun rooms, conservatories, or extra bedrooms. The lawns were beautiful and the trees were enormous. Some, like the Johnson's home, had large wrap-around porches. Ken walked down the street, found a bench, and sat down to wait. He had dressed in dark green jumper and a light cotton blouse with lace around the collar. "I look just like Julie," he thought to himself. The truth was, Ken didn't have many options. Despite objections from the Dickinsons, he had insisted on wearing only dresses. They were a kind of security blanket which he felt would help fool others into thinking he was female. Sandra and Sarah had insisted that he could wear anything and he would still be fine, but Ken was unconvinced. Anyway, on his limited budget, Ken had only been able to afford just four dresses, and now after being attacked by the wall in the loo, only one was clean. "Hi there!" Ken looked up. A young man was standing before him. He was in his early 20's with short sandy colored hair and a friendly, cheerful face. "Hello," Ken replied. "Waiting for the school bus?" he inquired. "Yes, and what are you doing here?" "Well, um..." the question seemed to throw him. "You know, I guess I just saw this beautiful woman sitting here in my front yard, or rather my Dad's front yard... and I guess... well I just thought I should investigate." Ken looked at him in surprise. Someone had gone out of their way just to talk to him? No one had ever done that before. "Well, thank you for keeping me company," Ken said, with a warm smile, making a space on the bench. "By the way, my name is Kathy, I'm the new Au Pair for the Johnsons." "And my name is Tim Downey. Pleased to meet you!" Ken suddenly had a thought. "Hey! Do you know a good household repairman?" "What kind?" "Well, the wall in my loo collapsed, right into the tub!" Tim laughed in amazement. "Are you serious?! The entire wall collapsed?" "Yes," Ken replied, glaring at him. "And I happened to be in the tub at the time." "No way! Are you okay?" "I guess so." "Well, loo repair.... Nope, no one in America knows how to repair a *loo*. But I'm sure we could find someone to repair the *bathroom*." Tim grinned at Ken, who rolled his eyes at the tease. "I don't know anyone personally, but I'm sure my Dad does. I'll ask him and get back to you." "Thank you!" The two sat in silence for a second. "So, what is your occupation?" Ken asked. "My occupation?" Tim mulled that over for a second. "Well, I'm just a student right now. I'm working on my MBA, it should be done next year. I'm looking for an internship this summer. I'll probably just work for my Dad, but I would like to find something more finance-related..." *Beep* *Beep* A small yellow school bus drove up. Julie jumped off the bus. "Look Kathy! Look what I made for you!" She held up a paper with smears of finger-paint handprints. Ken took a serious look at it. "Why it's beautiful, Julie! I love the colors." Ken stood up. "Julie, this is Mister Tim. Say hello." Julie quickly hid behind Ken and peeked out at Tim. "Hello," she said in a small voice. Tim knelt down. "We've met dozens of times, Julie. Don't you remember me?" Julie hid her face in Ken's skirt, pressing her head against his legs. "No," she said, muffled. "Oh well," Ken said, smiling. "Tim, I must be going now. It was a pleasure to meet you." "And you too, Kathy. I hope we meet again soon!" Ken took Julie by the hand, but Julie slipped away and ran ahead. Halfway home she stopped, turned around, and started singing at the top of her lungs: Kathy and Tim! Sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! "Julie!" Ken hissed, blushing scarlet. He glanced back and saw Tim with a huge grin on his face. 'He's not embarrassed at all,' Ken realized, 'he likes this!' Ken's skin broke out in goose bumps and his stomach seemed to twist up, all on its own. First comes luuuuuuuv, Then comes marriage! Then comes the baby in the ba-by carriage! 'That's not bloody likely,' Ken muttered to himself. But the thought made him sad, and it dissipated some of the delicious thrill he had just felt. Ken looked back at Tim, shrugged his shoulders, and waved goodbye. Ken finally reached Julie and picked her up. "You silly silly girl! Ooooh, you're in so much trouble!" But instead Ken gave her an extra big hug before heading inside. - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Are you in here?" Ken opened the door with a flourish. The closet was empty. "Where are you?" Ken called. Ken finished his tour of the first floor and then went up the curved staircase to the second. 'This place is massive!' Ken muttered to himself, climbing the long staircase. 'And all out of sorts,' he added. The curved staircase was enclosed in a tiny closet-sized area. Why so small? And why was the den the largest room on the first floor? And why were all the details so strange with dolphin-shaped brackets and wavy-cut shingles? Overall the house was... Majestic. There was no other word that Ken felt was appropriate. It was your best friend, the scullery maid, who turned out to be a princess and heir to the throne. She was beautiful and graceful, but somehow down-to-earth and welcoming. The perfect hostess. From the outside the house had a wide round tower attached to the front left corner of a square house. The den was in the tower, and this was Brian's office. The rest of the rooms on the first floor were all small, and included the kitchen, dining room, a guest bedroom, living room, breakfast room, two bathrooms, and a sitting room off of the bedroom. The second floor was strictly a series of bedrooms, the master bedroom occupied the second floor of the tower, the nursery, Julie's bedroom, a second guest bedroom, Ken's room, another bedroom used for storage (full of boxes, clothes, and miscellaneous bags), and three bathrooms. For Ken the third floor was the most fun, too bad it was just used for storage. It had three servant's bedrooms with dormer windows, all full of boxes, and best of all, a wonderful open attic space in the turret of the tower. If you stood in the middle of the attic and looked up, the point of the turret was a good 20 feet above you. "There you are! Gotcha!" Julie was hiding behind one of the boxes in the attic. Ken grabbed her and tickled her. Julie squealed with laughter. "Now it's your turn! Now it's your turn! Go hide someplace!" With exaggerated motions Julie turned towards the nearest box, hid her eyes, and started counting. Ken was happy to be playing hide-and-go-seek with Julie - it was much better than earlier when it seemed that Ken could do nothing right. First he had botched her sandwich, using the wrong bread, buttering the bread instead of using mayonnaise, cutting the sandwich lengthwise instead of corner-to-corner. Julie actually threw his first attempt to the ground. Ken picked it up, brushed it off, and saved it for himself. He picked out a jar from the fridge. "Uck!" Julie grimaced. "Not that grey mustard!" "She likes the yellow stuff," Tina said. "This?" Ken held up a jar for Tina to see. "No, that has onions. You know, the ordinary stuff..." "This?" "No, that has whole mustard seeds. She hates that." Ken went through 5 more jars of mustard, "No, that's got caraway seeds. That's too spicy. That's the brown mustard. On no! That's Japanese wasabi - that won't do." Finally Tina walked over to help Ken look. "My gosh, she said, "I had no idea I owned so many different types of mustard." Finally she found what she was looking for, hidden behind the catsup. After lunch Ken went to the toilet, and when he got back, there was Julie, in his room, drawing a picture in crayon on his wall. "See what I did?" She pointed, proudly. "That's you, and that's Tim, and there's the school bus..." "Julie, you shouldn't be drawing on the walls, don't you have some drawing paper?" "No..." And that was how the day had gone, Julie getting into trouble, Ken cleaning up. Julie throwing a temper tantrum, Ken trying not to give in. It was exhausting. Finally Ken had suggested they play this game, and Julie had agreed. Ken tip-toed out of the attic and went down to the second floor, wincing whenever a stair creaked. The stairs from the third to the second floor were servant's stairs, narrow, winding, and steep and Julie loved to run up and down them over and over again. When he got to the second floor, Ken crossed the hall and went into Tina and Brian's master bedroom. The bedroom was haphazardly decorated, a scan-design bed, an old sofa, a fancy screen, a Chinese rug, two old dressers, a table with a mirror on it. Ken crossed the room entered the closet and closed the door behind him. The closet had a window! Ken had never seen a closet with a window before. Ken looked around. Apparently the closet belonged to Brian, since it contained only his clothes. Lots of expensive suits, Ken noticed. Ken listened to Julie walking back and forth out in the hall. "Kathy?" she called from down the hall. "Where are you?" Eventually the door to the master bedroom opened and Ken heard someone moving about, crossing back and forth around the room. Another door opened... then closed. Ken held his breath: the door to his closet rattled, but the door didn't open. After a little bit longer Ken heard the person in the room leaving and walking downstairs. "That's strange," he thought. Ken reached to open the closet door. The door knob came off in his hand. "Damn!" Ken quickly put the knob back on the door, and tried turning it. Nothing. Ken was locked in. Taking the knob off again, Ken fiddled with the mechanism inside. "If only I had some kind of tool..." he muttered. Looking around the closet Ken spied a box in the corner. He walked over and opened it -Golf magazines. Ken dug down a little further. Old "Home and Garden" magazines. Ken rolled his eyes. "If this were *my* closet..." he muttered. Ken heard foot steps in the bedroom. He quickly put the magazines back in the box and covered it up. Ken ran to the door and banged on it, "Help!" he called, "I'm stuck in the closet! Help!" - - - - - - - - - - - - - Later that night, after dinner and after he had put Julie to bed, Ken, not quite sleepy yet, wandered down stairs. The wooden staircase of the old house creaked noisily no matter how lightly he tried to tread. "Tina?" Ken peeked into kitchen. Empty. Absentmindedly Ken cleaned up, putting dinner dishes into the dishwasher, storing leftovers, wiping countertops and straightening up. The empty wine bottle from last night was still on the countertop, but now with a second cork sitting next to it. Ken wandered into the living room. "Oh, there you are, Tina." Ken had found her in the living room, in the large easy chair, wrapped in a comforter, sipping a glass of wine. Tina had a large coffee-table book on her lap and was idly turning the pages. "Hi Kathy," Tina said. "was Julie a good girl this time?" "A princess," Ken replied, remembering how Julie had demanded he repeat his good-night story no less than seven times, each time with more elaborate details. "Where's Mr. Johnson?" Ken sat down in the loveseat by the fireplace and tucked his legs up underneath. The room was dark. Ken pulled his sweater a bit tighter, feeling chilled. Tina snorted, "Brian? Oh, I'm sure he's at work... work, work, working away. God knows why." "Well, he must have an important job, to be spending all of these late nights at work." "I suppose," Tina said. Ken sat still for a moment, feeling the walls of the living room pressing in. It was a small room, actually, not much larger than a small bedroom. Strange layout, Ken realized, for such a large house. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Tina asked suddenly. "Oh... sure, of course," Ken replied. "I saw your suitcase today. Did you only bring dresses to wear? You know, this is America, right? Land of 'comfort wear'. You could wear jeans and a T-shirt if you'd prefer." "Oh... well, I guess I'm just more comfortable in dresses, mostly..." Ken stammered, wondering what to say. "Um, also I was thinking that if I were too casual it might make it more difficult to control Julie. You know, to maintain my position as an authentic English Nanny... or something like that." "Oh, I guess that makes sense. Want to maintain some authority and dress the part, is that it?" "Well, it certainly seemed to work for my teachers at home," Ken remarked wryly. Tina chuckled. "I bet. And did you have to wear a uniform when you went to school?" Ken smiled. "Oh yes, in the early grades. Shirt, tie, blue pants." "Tie? Pants? Really?" "No! I mean..." Ken floundered, "No, I meant a skirt. Right, shirt and tie, jacket, and *skirt*." Ken thought back. What had his girl classmates worn? He tried to picture one, but failed. "With black patent shoes and white pull-up socks," he finished lamely. "I bet you were an adorable little girl." "No, rather a rascal, actually. The teachers always said: Come on Ke--- ah... Come on Kathy, pull up your socks!" "Pull up your socks! That's great. I love British-isms." "Have you ever been to England?" Ken asked, trying to move the subject to safer ground. "Yes, actually. I went to Oxford for a summer semester." "Oxford, really?" "Yes. Art history." Tina held up her book, a Picasso retrospective, 'The early years.' "That's brilliant. My best friend in England is a critic of Art and Architecture. Where did you graduate?" "Graduate?" Tina frowned. "Oh right. Well, I guess you could say that I graduated with an M-R-S degree from the local Episcopal church." "Sorry," Ken was confused, "an M-R-S degree?" "Right," Tina's voice was dripping sarcasm. "As in I became '*Mrs*. Brian Johnson', and ceased to exist as Christina Everett." "Oh," Ken faltered. He was about to say 'I'm sorry,' but at the last second changed it to, "I understand." "No, please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," Tina apologized. "I made my choice, and Julie and Michael are both wonderful." She sighed. "Anyway, you should head on up to bed. It's been a long day." "I guess you're right." Ken got up and brushed off his skirt. "Oh, and Kathy, remember that tomorrow's Julie's ballet class." "Well, that sounds like fun!" "Well, it is just adorable. Oh, and they're always looking for adults to fill in the local production. Maybe you'd like to try out? You certainly have the figure for it." "Me? In a ballet? Oh no, I don't think so." Ken's eyes grew wide with fright. "Oh, but why not?" Tina teased. "Well, because..." Because I'm a man!! Ken wanted to shout. "Oh, I don't know. Ah... just embarrassed, I guess." "Well, you can talk to the instructor tomorrow. But watch out: she's very persuasive." Chapter 5 ------- - Brian lay his head down on his desk and closed his eyes. 'I'll just rest here for a minute,' he thought, 'and then I'll finish up and go home.' Brian had been at work since 7:30 AM, and it was now almost midnight. For some incomprehensible reason he had promised the reports on these last two companies by the next day, and now he felt obligated to deliver. Brian was a stock analyst and researcher. It was his job to predict a company's future in terms of revenue growth, data which was then used by others to predict stock prices. Further, Brian specialized in longer- term predictions of over 5 years. It was something he was uncommonly good at it. Once, as a finance intern in a large manufacturing firm with nothing better to do, Brian started drawing diagrams of his department, connected with arrows and lines to show how everyone worked together, who influenced who, and so on. Eventually he began to connect these diagrams to larger groups in the organization, such as Engineering, Sales, Administration, etc. and then also with outside influences, vendors, customers, and so on. Soon the diagrams (which now covered the walls of an unused office) caught the interest of the CEO, who took one look and re-assigned Brian to his personal staff. During this time Brian began to develop a theory on how good organizations operated, the "COI" theory. "COI" stood for "Customers, Operations, and Innovation", and Brian found that the best organizations had three people who ran the place, each of which filled one of these three roles. In larger companies these roles would typically be filled by the VP of Marketing, the CEO, and the VP of Engineering. But even in the best smaller companies, there always seemed to be one person who knew the customer the best, someone who focused on strictly operational issues (finance, processes, recruiting, etc), and someone who was constantly innovating on the product. The more clearly defined these roles were in the group and the closer these three people worked together, the better the group functioned and improved over time. The CEO decided it was time to take action. Using the diagrams he restructured the entire organization and executed a 15% workforce reduction. Brian was shocked that all his work, which he had done more as a objective observer (a kind of "Business Sociologist" he had called himself) could be used for such a brutal end result, but he had to admit that the CEO knew what he was doing. Expenses were reduced, profits shot up, and new products (free of burdensome bureaucratic controls) burst forth. The stock tripled in two years. Brian's work had been used to create over a billion dollars in market capitalization, and he was still only an intern. After school Brian took a job with his father's company, Spencer and Johnson, an old-time investment banking firm initially founded by his grandfather. He was assigned to the worst possible job, stock analyst, and was told to work his way up from the bottom. Stock analysts are the bottom feeders of American capitalism. Basically their job is to badger company employees to reveal insider secrets and then use the information to write a report. Now just 24, Brian applied his new diagramming techniques to the companies he was assigned to follow. The reports that followed were detailed, specific, and thoroughly researched with supporting materials. Brian had found his niche. Ten year later and his reputation has a genius within the firm and the industry was now legendary. Not that any of this mattered to his father, of course. "I need you to run this company," he had requested, over and over. But Brian refused. He was 'I' (innovation), not the 'O' or 'C'. But it was times like this, late at night with his head on his desk, that Brian began to wonder what he was doing here, creating diagrams to help make the filthy rich even more filthy rich. As his mind wandered, Brian couldn't help but apply his diagramming technique to his own family. There was Tina, and she was connected to Brian via marriage, and the information they communicated... but what was the information they communicated? Brian could only think of things like school, money, and house repairs. Shouldn't there be more? What about love, commitment, and the future? Originally Brian had thought of Julie as the third component in his diagram. Tina would be operations, Brian would be inspiration, and Julie would be customer relations - it all worked out. Except when Michael was born where did he fit in? And also, it turned out that Julie wasn't someone that Brian could actually talk to. Well, of course he talked to her, but no discussions like, "Julie, what do you think are the root causes of our household dysfunctionality?" Not that Brian had had these discussions with Tina, either... So maybe Julie was the customer? And when Michael was born, it was as if Brian and Tina had just manufactured another customer. "There's a new business model," Brian thought to himself, with a sick sense of humor. "Imagine if companies could manufacture their own customers!" But clearly that wasn't right, after all Julie and Michael were in the family, not outside customers with goals and business plans of their own. So maybe Julie and Michael were the product? And maybe the world (or society) at large was the customer? This seemed to fit, Brian thought, in that Tina was constantly concerned that her children were being raised properly. And further, it made sense in that the goal of the family was to provide the best possible environment for the production of the product... kind of like the winery that Brian was currently following, which would put its port wine in special oak barrels underground for umpteen years. But then, what about the theory of three, of COI? Clearly Tina was most in touch with the customer. Brian was in charge of operations, finances and what-not. Were they missing the 'I'? Who was providing the inspiration for their family? Could Julie do this eventually? Brian opened his eyes for a second and stared at his coffee cup, which said: "I've either had too much coffee or not enough sex!" Brian grimaced. It was an embarrassing coffee cup, and he kept it only because it came from Tina. It was her first gift to him. When had he and Tina last had sex? Brian thought back. Had it been when Michael was conceived? A year and a half ago? With a sigh Brian sat back up, brushed off a paper clip from his face, and continued working. Chapter 6 ------- - "Miss Cabrini! Miss Cabrini! Look who I brought!" Julie raced up to her ballet instructor. "Who, Julie, who?" asked Miss Cabrini, laughing, as she knelt down and gave Julie a hug. "My nanny! Kathy!" "Well hello, Kathy! I'm Sarah Cabrini," she held out a hand, "pleased to meet you." "And very pleased to meet you too." "And such cold hands!" Sarah grasped Ken's hand in both of hers and rubbed vigorously. "Mommy says Kathy should join us in class," Julie said. "Can she, Miss Cabrini? Can she?" Sarah looked delighted. "Oh, yes! You must help us out, Kathy. I've created a ballet version of 'The Sound of Music'. It's just a few simple steps, you could learn them in a jiffy." "Oh no, I couldn't. I mean, I don't have shoes, or a costume, or anything..." "Oh, don't worry about that. One of the mother's has volunteered to make the costumes. You'd be in a nun's habit, it's very simple." "You mean, long robes?" If he was covered up... maybe it wouldn't be so bad? "Right! Covered from head to toe." "Well, perhaps..." "Excellent! You'll be great." Sarah stepped up to Ken. "And tonight, since it looks like we're pretty much the same size, you can wear my spare leotard." "What??" Ken gasped out loud, instinctively backing away out of fear. "You mean, I have to practice in a *leotard*?" "Of course, silly," Julie rolled her eyes as if to ask how could *anyone* be so clueless? "Everyone wears leotards to practice." Julie turned to Sarah. "Mommy said she'd buy Kathy a leotard and toe shoes, if she wanted," she stated smugly. "Now Julie, you go and start warming up," Sarah gently pushed her towards an open space on the bar. Ken felt himself hurtling towards the worst mistake of his life. "Miss Cabrini..." "Please, call me Sarah." "Right, ummm.... Oh dear. Sarah, please, I just can't do this. I've never danced before, I'm sure I'd be horrible..." "Not a problem! I can teach anyone!" "And..." Ken thought he would have to admit the truth, or something close to it. "Well, I'm so embarrassed about my figure. I'm so scrawny." Sarah looked at Ken with sympathy. "Oh sweetheart, look at you. Your figure is standard issue Russian ballerina. Did you ever notice how gawky they are when not on stage? Your movements are not graceful, perhaps, but we'll work on that. Now here, I'm not going to take 'no' for an answer, so you might just as well give up and come with me." Sarah grasped Ken's wrist firmly and dragged him to her office. "Here's my spare leotard and tights. You can change in here." With that Sarah left to start teaching class, closing the office door behind her, leaving Ken holding the dance clothes, looking for all the world like a trapped sparrow. - - - - - - - - - "So, how was ballet class?" Tina asked. Ken, Tina and Julie were all at the dinner table. Brian was still at work. "It was great!" Julie exclaimed. "Kathy danced with us!" "Oh she did, did she?" Tina grinned. "I warned you that Sarah would be very persuasive." Ken blushed, picking at his food. "Well, truthfully, I must admit to having had a very nice time." "So, what did you do for a leotard?" "Oh, Sarah loaned me one," Ken said casually. But at the time Ken was almost in tears as he frantically searched the office for anything, *anything*, which would help. He had almost given up when he opened up Sarah's first-aid kit and found a large roll of surgical tape. Taking off his panties, he gently pushed his testicles into his body, pushed his penis down between his legs, and taped it all in place with a long strip of surgical tape which went from his abdomen to his buttocks. To be safe, he added two more pieces, and then a another one around his waist, as a belt, to help hold everything in place. Ken had also found a sports bra in Sarah's duffle bag, which held his false breasts in place. Thusly taped up and strapped in, he slid on the black tights and pink leotard (both of which felt wonderful sliding on, he had to admit) and, on shaky legs, went to join the rest of the class. And the class had been wonderful! Sure, the constant pulling at his crotch had been painful, but learning all of the different positions, learning how to move with graceful motions, learning simply how to walk across the stage, all that had been a dream come true. Ken was surrounded by women and girls, everyone accepting him as just another dancer, all of them working intently on the new production which was now just a month and a half away. And Ken, in his borrowed pink ballet shoes, had walked along side them, stood in line, and attempted some of the easier steps at Sarah's direction. "You'll be my special project," Sarah had whispered to Ken during class, while adjusting the position of his arms, causing Ken to gulp hard. It wasn't until they got home that Ken had had to pay for his deception. His penis, stomach and bum now had angry red stripes across them where he had ripped off the tape, taking no small amount of skin and hair with it. Ken winced at the memory. Turning to Tina he said, "But I'll have to go shopping for my own costume, some day this week." Tina brightened up. "Shopping! What a wonderful idea. I haven't had a good shoppin