Family Girl - Part 2 free porn video

Family Girl Copyright (c) 2011 by Cody Although many elements of this story are fiction, the majority of it is based on my real-life experiences coming of age. Disclaimer: this story contains subjects that may not be suitable for all audiences. If such things are illegal in your area, stop reading now. If such things offend you, please seek professional counseling. Immediately. Author's preface: This story contains inferences to incest. In no way do I condone the actions of some of this story's characters happening in real life. And while some of this story is fantasy, some of it really happened. This is a story I feel compelled to tell, regardless of how painful it is to tell it, or to read it. All I ask of the reader is a little patience, and to keep reading. Preface to Part 2: I would also like to thank those that reviewed the first part of this story. Not all of the comments were complimentary, but that actually was okay! You challenged me to write a better story, to write something other than the pornography I had originally envisioned. You challenged me to be a better writer, and I'm grateful. While some elements of future parts may have less than savory elements, I have decided to accept the challenge offered by the early reviewers and write a better story. So here's part 2 ... *** *** *** Part 2 I stood in front of the mirrors on the closet doors of my new bedroom with my hands on my just-curving hips, my fingers tucked in the back pockets of my shorts, pressing my bottom cheeks. I admired my look. I was wearing a so very pretty, low-cut floral print blouse with little heart-shaped pink buttons. I turned from side to side to see how the matching, ultra-tight shorts shaped and flattered my bubble-butt. If they were any shorter you could see the lacy edges of the pink bikini- style panties I wore underneath. I slid my hands out of the pockets, up over my hips, around my softly-padded yet tight tummy to my chest where I could feel my still-growing breasts cupped in the soft outlines of my pink, lacey bra with a darling little lace-encrusted pink heart-shaped applique between the cups. I looked down my nylon-clad legs to see the pink, plastic, three-inch wedge-heeled sandals on my feet; the straps just above my brightly-pink painted toes. I lifted a heel and turned my foot from side-to-side to admire how my golden ankle chain sparkled in the morning light coming in through the windows. I looked up to see my long, wavy hair, tickling my back down to my shoulder blades; it was pulled back from my face by a pink and white butterfly-decorated barrette. Around my neck was a gold necklace with a heart-shaped locket lying on my chest between the folds of my blouse; in the locket was a miniature picture of Daddy's handsome face. On my wrist I still wore the charm bracelet Rita had given me for my fourteenth birthday; tomorrow was my fifteenth birthday and I couldn't wait to see what I'd get, though I knew everything would be totally girly. I breathed in deeply the fragrance of my then favorite scent: Revlon's 'Charlie.' I'd applied it to my wrists, earlobes, neck, between my breasts, and between the cheeks of my tight bottom. I smiled and blew myself a kiss. I loved how I looked! "I'm a pretty girl!" I said. I couldn't deny the evidence any more than I could deny how wonderfully exciting it felt to be so pretty, and so sexy. I may have started off in life as a boy, but I was going to be a girl, a pretty sexy girl, a girl that would make my Daddy happy and keep our family together. Even after almost a year of growing up as a girl, I still wished I hadn't had to change this much but the thought of hurting my family was worse than whatever bad feelings I had about what I now knew to be wrong, very, very wrong. We'd been barely able to live without Daddy, and we'd been so alone, especially Mommy; I just couldn't make us go through that anymore, I just couldn't! I'd decided long before that if I was able to be a pretty girl for Daddy, if we wouldn't have to live the way we did before we came to belong to him, then I would find a way to be a happy girl, even if that meant I had to be the sort of girl that Daddy seemed to want. I knew I wasn't ready to be with him the way he wanted. But I would learn how, no matter what it took, if it meant Mommy, and Rita and Darryl could be happy. What did it matter what I wanted? What did morality matter? I may have been a stupid little sissy, and a faggot, but I knew that my family's happiness was more important than little things like whether I had to be the sort of girl that Daddy wanted to fuck himself silly with. Yes, by then I'd learned what 'fucking' was and loved it. More on that in a bit. I comforted myself with the knowledge that my family would have what we needed to be happy. Mommy would have a man, us kids would have a father, and we wouldn't have to worry about where our roof or our food would come from anymore. I thought back over the events of the previous year and my nipples hardened as I remembered the discovery of ways for me to be happy, too, by being this way: I'd never imagined that there were boys around my age that liked girls like me, but there were, oh there were! I thought back over the events of the last eleven months ... *** *** *** I spent the summer between eighth and ninth grade learning how to be a girl. After changing bedrooms, and with a partial redecoration, we didn't have enough money to do more than buy me a complete set of girl's underwear, enough for two weeks, and night-gowns and girly pyjamas. Over the girl undies I still wore my boy play clothes during the first few weeks of summer. It was a good thing I didn't have any friends then because otherwise they might have noticed the camisoles under my shirts, let alone the training bras Mommy convinced me I had to start wearing. And she was right. By the end of summer, thanks to the overabundance of female hormones I had to take, I'd graduated from training bras to an actual A-cup. Of course, thanks to Daddy's insistence, those bras were lacey, revealing and as push up as we could get for my tiny little boobies. It's a good thing we got me more clothes, too, as my hips widened and my bottom rounded out and got so bubbly-cute that Daddy never let a chance go by to swat it -- sometimes hard. And, as I'd learned he liked, I giggled every time he did that. After a while, I started to like it, too. The first day of school in ninth grade was probably the scariest school day of my life since my first day of kindergarten -- I guessed. I didn't remember that far back. But I knew I was scared. I didn't think I would be able to wear skirts and dresses, not right away, but everything else was fair game as far as Daddy was concerned. Since he had final say over what I wore, to school and everywhere else, it wasn't easy to avoid the obvious. But the embarrassment of shopping for my new school clothes wasn't near as bad as that first day in ninth grade. Everything I wore from that day on was meant for girls: pants and jeans, tops, underwear, even socks and shoes. Needless to say, I dropped out of track. I loved running, it felt so wonderful just striding along, my legs and arms stretching in a good rhythm, step after step: breathing in, breathing out; I could lose myself in that, the motion, the movement, just gliding along like there's no end, hoping there isn't. I didn't bother to show up after what had happened in my first P.E. class. Remember: in the mid- Seventies there was zero tolerance for anyone that resembled anything even remotely "homosexual", Stonewall notwithstanding in a little mill town in what was basically the middle of nowhere. As far as I knew, society said 'transsexuals' and 'faggots' were perverts, psychopaths, child molesters, serial killers and outright criminals; look at any depiction in movies or television from that era of what we today would call gays, lesbians or the transgendered and it's obvious how society felt about us then. But that's what I had to live with, whether I wanted it or not. It didn't matter whether it was the 'real' me, or something invented to please Daddy. All up until ninth grade, as far as the other kids in school were concerned, I was a 'faggot' and a 'pansy'; someone to be teased, bullied and shunned just so the mean kids could distance themselves from their own fears of their own sexual awakenings. And, every day that I came home crying, and hating the kids at school and hating myself for being the little sissy faggot I felt I was, Mommy would be there to welcome me back into her safe, comforting embrace. I was convinced that ninth grade would only be worse, because the way I was going to dress would make a loud and definitive statement. There would be no doubt in anyone's minds regarding who and what I was. There would be no more hiding; not even a hint of anonymity. On that first day I was still ashamed of what I was. At least Mommy had promised to drop me off and pick me up the first few days, instead of me walking or taking the bus. I hesitated only a moment after we pulled into the drop off lane, but I finally got out of the back seat, picked up my book bag and little denim clutch purse. I don't know why I had to carry a purse, but Mommy said I had to have something to carry my brush, lip gloss and other girly items in. I was wearing a pair of my new jeans; they didn't have a zipper but were tight, stretchy pullup-style with an elastic waist. I wore a loose, flowing white pullover top decorated with alternating blue and pink stripes. My shoes were simple, brown pull-ons with a half-inch heel. Underneath I was wearing a pair of pink, nylon hipster panties and a simple pink training bra. My lengthening brown hair was permed in soft waves, my earlobes were pierced with little gold studs; around my wrist was the charm bracelet Rita had given me that I now wore always. I stepped up to driver's side window, leaned in and gave Mommy a peck good-bye. She wasn't wearing make-up that morning and I could see the shine on her lips from my lightly pink-tinted gloss. I smiled through my fears. "Bye, Mommy," I said. "Have a nice day, sweetie," she said. "I'll see you here right after school, okay?" "Yes, Mommy." I stepped back away from the car and gave her a girly finger-wave as she drove off. I had asked Mommy to drop me off early so I didn't have to arrive with a crowd of kids already there. I turned and looked up at the front doors to the school. In our town then, seventh, eighth and ninth grades were in middle school, right next door to the high-school. I took a deep breath, pulled open one of the many doors, and walked in. I pulled my schedule from my book bag to remind myself what class my homeroom was in: room 114, Mrs. Hall. I remembered her from eighth grade English class. She was nice; a very pretty blonde lady, with a nice, womanly figure. She seemed a little older than Daddy, but was so kind. All the kids liked her. I was glad she was going to be my homeroom teacher this year. When I got to room 114, Mrs. Hall was already there. She was pulling a stack of papers from a large satchel on her desk. "Good morning, sweetie!" she said. "You're very early. Are you in my class this year?" She looked at me with her light, hazel eyes and smiled. I felt myself blush. She obviously thought I was a girl. "Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'm Joanne -- err, I mean, I'm Joey Peterson," I stammered. I'd gotten so used to using my girl name all summer; I'd automatically used it to introduce myself to her. My cheeks felt warm because I was blushing so much. She looked at a list on her desk, and then looked back at me. "Joey?" she asked, looking at me and gesturing up and down at the way I was dressed. She didn't sound like she was teasing, only curious. "My list says Joey Peterson is a boy, but you don't look or sound like a boy. Are you sure your name isn't Joanne, honey?" "Um ... I ... I'm Joanne at home, ma'am." I was still stammering like an idiot, but I couldn't help but tell her the truth. There didn't seem any point in hiding the obvious, except for why I was dressed like a girl. Mommy had told me never to say anything about that outside the family. If anyone asked, I was to say it was all my idea. That wasn't true, of course, but I didn't need the warning, not after what I'd read at the library. The things I imagined that would happen if other people found out were too horrible. Mommy and Daddy would probably go to jail and us kids split up in orphanages or foster homes. "Here I guess I have to be Joey." I looked down at her feet and admired her nice black, two-inch heeled pumps and the sleek look of her nylon-covered ankles. I could swear she was wearing a delicate chain around one of her ankles under the nylons. "Is that why you're wearing such a pretty outfit, Joey?" she asked, breaking me out of my daydream about ankle-chains. I looked up into her sweet, smiling oval-shaped face framed by her lovely permed, ash-blonde hair. She was so pretty! I could only nod. "Will you be dressing this way all the time, dear?" "Yes, ma'am," I replied. "I like dressing like a girl and being pretty." That much was true, of course. "I won't get in trouble, will I?" "No, Joey, you won't get in any trouble," she said. Her brows furrowed a bit. "But I don't know if the other children will understand." She looked at her watch. "School doesn't start for another twenty minutes, honey. Why don't I give you your locker assignment, you can put your things away and, if you like, you can help me get the classroom set up?" "That would be lovely, Mrs. Hall," I said enthusiastically. "Thank you!" I was sitting alone in the classroom, in the middle seat of the front row, when Mrs. Hall returned. She'd stepped out for a few minutes, saying she had something to attend to in the school office. She sat at her desk and started reading through a booklet she'd brought back. I was looking through the hand-out on my desk when the bell rang. I almost jumped out of my seat. I'd been concentrating so hard, trying to push the fears out of my mind by studying the hand-out. But it was now time for class! The other kids were going to see me! I had only an inkling of the future ahead of me, but it was about to begin. "You'll be fine, Joey, don't worry," Mrs. Hall said. I tried to return her smile. The first few kids to walk in were the nicer girls of my age. They'd never teased me themselves but did laugh sometimes when others did it. They always dressed so prettily, so femininely, like such total girls, and they acted the same. I thought then that I'd probably like to be like them. After them were a group of boys that were known friends, and jocks, and they were some of the meanest to me, along with their girl friends. Other kids of various sorts came in, the brains, the shy ones, and so on. The last few kids to straggle in before the final bell were the "bad" kids, the ones that smoked and did other stuff; the boys wore their hair long but didn't take care of it; they always wore faded jeans and t-shirts from some rock band, or printed with some silly slogan. The girls of that group wore too much make-up, skimpy clothes, lots of jewelry; I'd heard them called sluts, and maybe it was true, maybe not. The funny thing was: those were the kids that hardly ever teased me. Maybe it was because the "nice" kids teased them, too. All told, there were twenty kids in my homeroom class, counting me. Everyone quieted down when the final bell rang. Mrs. Hall stood up and addressed the class. "Good morning, children. As some of you may know, my name is Mrs. Hall and this is your homeroom. You'll be here for the first period and last period each day. In here, we'll concentrate on English and Social Studies. You should all have your schedules for your other classes and lunch periods." I could hear papers rusting as we looked at our schedules. It was only then when I read mine. Second period was Math but after Math I was back here for Home Economics with Mrs. Hall. Then it was Arts and Humanities, then lunch, Biology, P.E., and finally back here for Social Studies. I was going to take Home Ec? I relaxed when I realized that it meant I wouldn't have to take Shop with boys; I had hated eighth grade metal shop, so messy and stinky, and I could never do anything right. The boys had loads of fun with yet more proof that I was a sissy. At least in Home Ec I would be with other girls, and with Mommy's teachings I thought I'd do okay. "Now, I realize you all probably know each other. And some of you I recognize but some of you I don't." She looked right at me when she said this. I couldn't help but return her smile. But my smile disappeared with what she said next. "But I want each of you to stand up and introduce yourself." She gestured to the girl in the seat at the end of the front row. I would be going third. I hardly heard their names, I knew them all anyway, or at least as much as I needed to. "Honey?" said Mrs. Hall. I looked up at her. She was smiling again, and motioning for me to stand up. So far, I don't think any of the other kids had recognized me yet, but they would now. I could barely stand up my legs were trembling so much. "My ... " I started to say, but all that came out was a little squeak. The other kids giggled. I coughed gently, with my hand in front of my mouth girlishly out of habit, and tried again. "I'm Joey Peterson," I said, my voice lilting and soft, like Mommy had coached me. I sat down, unconsciously smoothing my jeans over my bottom. I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. At least I didn't say 'Joanne', I reminded myself. "Oh, my God!" I heard Jessica Hansen's voice blurt out. She was sitting right next to me and staring. "It is him!" She paused and started giggling. "Or should I say 'her'?" The class erupted in a chorus of whispered exclamations and giggles. The jock boys were laughing out loud. I was too embarrassed to look, but the back left corner of the room was almost quiet. I tried to get as small in my seat as possible. "Settle down, class!" Mrs. Hall said loudly enough to be heard. "Quiet down now, please!" The class did quiet down after a minute or so. "That will be enough of that, children," she said. "Another disruption like that and you'll all be reporting to detention after school." That shut them up. Someone must have raised their hand behind me because Mrs. Hall nodded her head and pointed. "Yes, Kelly?" she said. "Mrs. Hall, why is Joey dressed like a girl?" There were some more giggles, but not enough to upset Mrs. Hall. "Is he a girl now?" Kelly Hansen was probably the nicest girl in class; she'd never teased me, and would sometimes even say 'hello' to me in the halls. She was also probably the most innocent-appearing of all the 'church girls' in our school. She obviously thought that somehow I'd been changed into a girl, and that's why I was dressed like one. In a way, she was right. Mrs. Hall stood up and walked out from behind her desk to stand almost right in front of me. "Well, children, if Joey dresses like a girl, looks like a girl and acts like a girl, then that must mean she is a girl. That's how I'm going to treat her." I looked up at her in surprise. I'd never expected that sort of reaction from an adult. She was accepting me as a girl. She'd even said 'she' and 'her', as though I really was a girl. My nervousness melted away while I looked at her, and when she winked and smiled at me I couldn't help but smile back. I knew then that she would be my favorite teacher. "Now, let's get started with class, shall we? On your desks you'll find a hand-out that I'd like to go over." Although no-one said anything for the rest of that class, I could still hear whispers and giggles behind me. *** *** *** And that's pretty much how it went in the rest of my classes. It must be a teacher's thing or something to make kids introduce themselves on the first day of class. I could hardly concentrate on my classes at first, but after a while I just gave up worrying and went with the flow; constantly being afraid was too tiring. Home Ec was really nice, though. Mrs. Hall treated me like any of the other girls, and most of them tried to get over the way I looked and just work on our assignments. Mrs. Hall told us that the first quarter we'd be studying nutrition and meal planning, the next quarter was to be interior design, the third was going to be human development, and finally, for the last quarter of the year, we'd study fashion design. Our 'final' was to design and make an entire outfit and wear it to school. A boy would probably be worried, but I knew that by the end of the year, wearing something totally feminine like a dress wasn't going to be at all unusual. I actually found myself looking forward to making my own outfit and showing it off. The two worst parts of that first day were lunch and P.E. At lunch, we were only lightly supervised, and most of the attention of the monitors was devoted to boys getting rowdy and rough-housing. They had little attention to spare for a girl sitting alone, but getting verbally teased almost constantly and sometimes having bits of food thrown on her. By the end of lunch, I was in tears. I got up and took my tray to the disposal area. I dumped my uneaten lunch in the waste bin and set the tray on the stack of dirty ones. Just then, one of the 'slut' girls walked up to me and handed me my denim clutch purse. "You forgot your purse, Joey," she said. She smiled at me and it helped me feel a little better. Her name was Mandy Wilson. She was wearing a black denim mini-skirt, a tight black tank-top without a bra; I could see her B-cup boobies jiggling under her top. Her knee-high black boots had a three-inch heel. Her red hair was pulled back in a pony tail at the crown of her head by a black ribbon tied in a cute bow. She had reddish and grey eye-shadow blended across her lids, long, mascara- covered lashes and dark red lipstick. "Thanks, Mandy," I said, taking my purse. "You look way better like this, Joey," Mandy said and smiled again. "Don't let the ass-holes get you down. You'll like being a girl. Trust me." Her toothy grin was infectious and I couldn't help but feel nice around her. She had one of those faces that, when she smiled, you had to smile with her. I know she was popular with the boys because of the way she dressed, but she seemed like a very nice and friendly girl, too. "Really?" I asked. "I hope so." "Oh yeah, you'll love it!" she said. "See ya later?" "See ya!" I said. She turned and I watched her walk away. Her bottom and hips moved smoothly from side to side as she walked, her skirt quickly flicking back and forth. She held her arms to the side, moving gracefully in rhythm with her stride. I wondered to myself if I would ever be able to walk so sexily. *** *** *** P.E. class was a total embarrassment that first day. I should have known it wasn't going to go well, but the school said I had to go. When I showed up at the locker room door I almost turned around and skipped class. But I thought that would just get me in trouble, so I took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and walked in. I found an empty row of lockers, and was going to put my things in one while I changed, but a boy came into the same row, saw me sitting on the bench about to slip off one of my shoes. He looked at me strangely for a moment, and then said. "What are you doing in here? This is the boy's locker room!" He turned and walked off, and I heard him calling for the P.E. teacher, who was also an assistant football coach. I put my shoe back on and waited for the inevitable, sitting straight, but looking down at the floor, my hands folded neatly in my lap. Even in that situation, the habits that Mommy had drilled into me over the summer still held. "See, what did I tell ya, coach!" the boy said. I finally recognized him, but I'm sure he'd known all along who I was. Bob Evans was one of my worst tormentors. At least I didn't have any other classes with him. "What's he doing in here?" "Stand up!" Mr. Johnson ordered. "What's your name?" His voice was very unfriendly, and he had a smirk on his face. He was taller than Daddy, and very muscular. His jet black hair was curled in tight ringlets all over his head. He had piercing gray eyes, and the look in them right then scared me. "Joey Peterson, sir," I answered, barely audible. He looked at his clipboard then back at me. "This says Joe Peterson is a boy," he said, waving his clipboard at me. "You ain't no boy, are you?" "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir!" I stammered. His double-negative confused me. I felt like a girl, and I sure looked like one, but the school still said I was a boy and I had the tiny evidence between my legs to prove it. But I was too ashamed to admit it to Mr. Johnson, and I wasn't going to show myself to him. "Well, which is it?" he demanded. "Answer me!" I couldn't answer him because I suddenly burst into tears and covered my face with my hands while I cried. "Aww, hell!" Mr. Johnson said in disgust. "Go get dressed for class, Evans. Ask Ms. Bell to get the class started in some basic calisthenics. I'll be back in a little while." Ms. Bell was one of the girls' P.E. teachers. He handed his clipboard to Bob. "Come on, grab your stuff, Joey," he said to me, his voice a little gentler. "We're going to the office." Mr. Johnson followed me as I walked out of the locker room. He told the boys that started shouting names at me to shut up and get to class. When we got to the office he had me sit in a chair in the waiting area and went into the back area to the principal's office. He knocked on her door and I heard a soft woman's voice ask him to come in. A few minutes later, he and Mrs. Barkley came out of her office. She beckoned me to come to her office while Mr. Johnson left, taking a look at me and shaking his head. Mrs. Barkley motioned to a seat in front of her desk and told me to sit down. I did as she asked while she sat behind her desk. I was clutching my book bag in my lap, my purse sitting on top of it. She looked at me for a minute before speaking. She had a smile on her face, but I didn't feel like smiling back. "Do you know why Mr. Johnson brought you to see me, Joey?" "I think so, Mrs. Barkley," I answered. "Because I went to the boy's locker room but I don't look like a boy anymore." "Joey, why are you dressed like that?" she asked. "I mean, you look very nice, dear, but don't you think you should be wearing boy's clothes?" "Thank you, ma'am," I said, remembering to thank her for her compliment. "I like to dress this way, Mrs. Barkley." "You like to dress and look like a girl?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am. I dress like a girl all the time now. Everywhere." I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was trying to be as truthful as I could. How could I explain that I started dressing like a girl because my Daddy wanted me to, but now I loved it anyway? Her eyebrows raised up at that. "Indeed? "Yes, ma'am. My Mommy and Daddy said it's okay." Which was an understatement, but it was still the truth. "You know, sweetie, I've been getting reports from all your teachers about you. Don't worry, Joey," she said. She must've seen the look of alarm on my face. "All your teachers say you've been very well-behaved and a good student, despite the disruptions from the other students. They can be mean, can't they?" "Yes, ma'am. Not everyone is, though," I added, remembering how nice Mandy had been at my lunch period. "But I can't let you go into the boy's locker room dressed like that. Mr. Johnson said it would be too upsetting for the boys to undress or shower with ... someone like you." "I understand, Mrs. Barkley," I said. I knew what was meant by 'someone like me.' I hung my head and looked at my purse. I felt like crying again. "On the other hand, the state requires all students to take a physical education class." She paused, looked thoughtful for a moment. "Wait here a minute, honey," she said. She left the office, leaving the door open. I sat there and listed to the hubbub of the office. I could hear Mrs. Barkley's talking to another woman out there but couldn't follow what they were saying. I picked up and opened my purse out of boredom. Inside was my brush, lip gloss and a compact with mirror. I decided to touch up my hair and lip gloss. Brushing out my hair always felt nice, and I liked the feel of gloss on my lips. When I reached in to get out the compact and brush I could feel a folded up piece of paper inside. I pulled out the paper instead and unfolded it. It was a note. Hi Joey! Call me tonite. We have to talk! 442-2311 Mandy! I heard footsteps clicking their way back towards the office, so I quickly folded the note and put it back in my purse. I had just snapped it shut when Mrs. Barkley walked in. "Joey? I've asked Ms. Williams to call your mother. I would like to see both you and her here after school. Okay?" "Yes, ma'am." "In the meantime, I'm excusing you from P.E. for today. She handed me a permission slip. Please report to Ms. Bauer in the library for a study period instead." "Yes, ma'am. What decision, ma'am?" I asked her. "A decision about your status, sweetie. Technically, you're a boy, but you dress, look and act like a typical teenage girl. It's not something we've had to deal with here before. But we'll talk more about that with your mother later today, alright?" She stood up and opened her door. I stood up and walked to the door. "Now, please go to the library dear, and don't dawdle." She smiled, pressed a hand to my back and gently ushered me out. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am," I said. I could hear Mrs. Barkley voice as I left the office. "Becky, could I see you for a few minutes in my office, please?" The rest of the day was almost anti-climactic. Ms. Bauer was very understanding when I reported to her in the library, and very complimentary about my looks. I studied my nutrition text book from Home Ec until it was time for Social Studies back in my homeroom. By then, everyone in school knew who I was, how I was dressed, and I heard the teasing comments as I walked through the noisy halls. But I also heard a couple wolf-whistles that seemed weird. No way were they for me. I missed the quiet of the library already. The one bright spot was that I saw Mandy in the halls as I headed to class. She waved and smiled and said "Hi Joey!" She put her hand up to her head like she had a telephone handset in her hand and mouthed the words: 'call me.' I nodded. All through Social Studies I could hardly pay attention as I wondered what she wanted to talk about. *** *** *** Finally the day was almost over. I waited in the school office for Mommy to arrive, and she did about thirty minutes after school was out. I could hear voices in Mrs. Barkley's office, at least three of them. When Mommy came in I stood up, ran over and hugged her tight. "Hi, Mommy!" I said. I really needed the hug she gave me. "Hi, baby," she said. "How was your first day back to school?" "I'm so tired, Mommy, it was such a long day." "I bet it was," she said. "I'm sorry it took so long to get here, Joanne, but I had to wait for your brother and sister to get home before dropping them off at Aunt Janie's house." Aunt Janie was one of Daddy's sisters and sometimes babysat us kids. Mommy caressed some of my hair away from my face. "You forgot to freshen your lip gloss, sweetie." She took my purse and reached in to get the gloss when she found the note from Mandy. "What's this?" She unfolded it and read it, and got a huge grin on her face. "Oh, how nice! Have you made a new friend already?" "Maybe, Mommy, I don't know her very well." I didn't really know Mandy at all, just her name and reputation, but I liked her and hoped Mommy would, too. "Definitely call her, honey," said Mommy. "It would be good for you to have a friend your age, especially another girl." I wondered if Mommy would feel that way if she knew Mandy's reputation but considering what Daddy wanted from me she'd probably think it was a good idea. I knew *he* would. "I'll call her, Mommy." She put the note back in my purse, took out the gloss and gave my lips a fresh coating. I smooched them together the way I'd been taught while she put away the gloss. Just as she handed me my purse back to me the door to Mrs. Barkley's office opened. "Ahh, Mrs. Conklin, thank you for coming in. Please?" she asked, motioning for us to come into her office. I should probably note that Daddy hadn't yet adopted us kids. So, while Mommy had his last name, we still had our birth father's name. Mommy motioned with her arm to say that I should go first. In the office I was surprised to see not only Ms. Williams but Mrs. Hall, too. "My name is Mrs. Deirdre Barkley," she said to Mommy. "I'm the principal here. This is Ms. Becky Williams, she's my vice- principal, and she's also in charge of academics and student affairs. This is Mrs. Virginia Hall; she's Joey's homeroom teacher and probably one of our best educators." They all shook hands as they were introduced to Mommy. Luckily there were enough chairs for all of us and we sat down when Mrs. Barkley did. "Now, I'm sure you can imagine why I've asked you to have a chat with us." "Yes, Mrs. Barkley, I think I know why." "Please, call me Dee," said Mrs. Barkley. "We don't need to be so formal about this." "Thank you, Dee. My name is Pat," Mommy said. Mommy sounded almost as nervous as I was. I wondered then if Daddy knew about this meeting. He probably didn't since he said only to call him at work for emergencies. There was some comfort in that, at least. But I knew Mommy would have to tell some fibs about me. Little ones, I hoped. "Well, Pat, would you like to help us understand why Joey is dressed as a girl?" "It's a long story, Dee, but I'll try to keep it short," Mommy said. The other women smiled encouragement. She looked at me and patted me on the shoulder. "For as long as I can remember, my little Joey has been a delicate, effeminate child. Perhaps that's my fault. He grew up without any positive male influence in the house, and I never encouraged him in boyish pursuits. I'm sure some of Joey's teachers could tell you that he's never really been very boyish." Mommy looked at the other women. "Yes, some of Joey's teachers from last year told me that when I talked to them earlier today," Ms. Williams said. "They said he's always been quiet, well-behaved and his mannerisms have always been quite girlish." Was I really that obviously femmy? I wondered what else those teachers had told her. "This last April," Mommy continued, "Joey came out to us at home, telling us she felt like a girl inside and wanted to become one for real." She looked at me and smiled. I didn't know that Mommy could lie with such a straight face. "Ever since then, her father and I, and her brother and sister, have completely accepted little Joey as the girl she really is. She only wears girl clothes now." "I notice you used the feminine pronouns in reference to Joey," Mrs. Barkley said. "Oh yes, it's become so natural to think of her as a girl." She paused before continuing with another revelation. "She's even picked herself a girl's name. Right, honey?" "Yes, Joanne introduced herself to me this morning before class," added Mrs. Hall. The other women looked at her before looking back to me. Mrs. Hall was smiling and appeared completely at ease with what Mommy had been telling them. Me, I just wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. "Is that right, sweetie?" Mommy asked me. I nodded. "Yes, Mommy, I accidentally used my girl name." "It's okay, honey," she said, patting my thigh. "Anyway, all summer we've been helping Joanne transition to complete girlhood. She doesn't even own any boy's clothes anymore, and we don't plan on buying her any." Mommy said that in a way that made it clear she was serious. I hoped she was. I hated the idea of wearing boy clothes again. "So, that's basically it," she finished. "Well, that's a very interesting story, Pat," said Mrs. Barkley. "I've heard of transsexuals, but I can't say that I know much about the subject." "I earned a degree in psychology," said Mommy, "and took several courses in human sexuality. The causes are still not understood, but unlike what you may have seen on television or in the movies, transsexuals are not lunatics or a danger to others. They have some emotional difficulties, but that's to be expected with someone having to endure a conflict between their physical sexuality and their emotional and psychological gender. Joanne is a girl in everything but her body, and her father and I want her to be happy. We're trying to help her have as much of a girl's life as possible." I looked at Mommy in amazement. I had no idea she knew so much about such things. Was I a transsexual? It sure seemed like it now. But was it real or was it because of Daddy? "I see." Mrs. Barkley paused and shuffled some papers on her desk. "I think the real issue here is what we do about Joey attending school here dressed as a girl." "I think I can help with part of that, Dee," Mrs. Hall said. "I've been reading up on the school district regulations regarding the student dress code." She held out the booklet I'd seen her reading that morning. Mrs. Barkley took it but didn't open it. "There's nothing in there that says boys can't wear girl's clothes. Basically, it only says that they can't wear shorts, shirts must cover backs and tummies, they have to wear shoes, and that their clothes have to be clean and without holes. There's nothing in there that says anything about styles, colors, fabrics or anything like that. Heck, Joanne could probably even wear a dress if she wanted to. There's nothing in the rules specifically against it." She looked to me and smiled. I smiled back. Thoughts of wearing a dress were filling my head and getting me excited. "I think she's right, Dee," Ms. Williams said. "I've looked through those regulations, too. It may have been simply an oversight. After all, that dress code was written more than thirty years ago. Who would have thought then that something like this would come up? There will likely be some parents and teachers, I suppose, that might oppose it but I don't think we can stop Joanne from dressing how she likes." "Well," Mrs. Barkley said, "I'm sure you're both right. But I'm concerned not only about Joanne's welfare, but also about the disruptions her style of dress might cause in class or around the school." I was very confused. Everyone was calling me by my girl name, and saying 'she' and 'her' like it was no big deal. Were these women even from the same provincial, narrow-minded, homophobic town I lived in? "I think we'll have to talk with Joanne's teachers, possibly a few others, let them know what's going on," Ms. Williams said. "And emphasize that Joanne has our support," she added, looking at each of the other women, and finally at me. She smiled and nodded. "There's still the question of Joanne's participation in a physical education class. It's a state requirement," Mrs. Barkley said. "The only exception is if Joanne suffered from some physical ailment that precluded such activities, but from what I can see she appears incredibly healthy." She smiled at Mommy when she said that. "I know it seems obvious, but why not simply let her take girl's P.E.," Ms. Williams said. "She'd have to wear the girl's uniform, of course, but I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem." I smiled at her when she said that and shook my head 'no'. Girl's P.E. had always looked like way more fun than the boy's class ever was anyway. "But we can't have her changing in the boy's locker room," Mrs. Barkley objected. "That wouldn't be proper for a girl but changing in the girl's room is out of the question as well for her, since I'm sure her body still has certain ... 'boyish attributes.'" "I've already discussed this with Darla," Mrs. Hall said. She looked to Mommy. "Ms. Darla Bell is the lead girl's P.E. teacher; she and I are good friends." She addressed Mrs. Barkley. "At lunch today, Darla told me she fully understood Joanne's situation, and offered to let her use the P.E. teacher's room to change and clean up afterwards." "Is that okay with you, honey?" Mrs. Barkley asked me. I was surprised. They'd been talking around and about me all this time. I didn't think I had any say in the matter. "Yes, ma'am!" I said happily. "That would be lovely!" "Well, then," Mrs. Barkley said, standing up. The rest of us stood up, too. "I suppose that settles things for now." She held out her hand to Mommy. They shook while she continued talking. "Thank you for coming in to speak with us, Pat. You've got a lovely daughter and I want to reassure you that we'll do everything we can to support her, and help her adjust to her new life here at school." "Thank you very much, Dee," Mommy replied. "And thank you, Mrs. Hall." "Ginny, please." "Thank you, Ginny, I'm glad to know Joanne will have such a wonderful teacher." They shook hands. "She's a delightful girl, Pat. She's in my Home Ec class, too, and I'm sure she'll take to things like the proverbial duck to water." They laughed. "I've been teaching her as much as I know," Mommy said. "Hopefully she'll do well." "I know she will." "Thank you, too, Ms. Williams," Mommy said, offering her hand. "Pat, please call me Becky," Ms Williams said. "We're all friends here, now." They shook hands. "Oh! One other thing," Mrs. Barkley said. "Would you like us to change Joanne's records to reflect her new status?" Mommy looked to me and saw the excited expression I had on my face. I nodded 'yes' very fast and smiled. She smiled, too, and looked back to Mrs. Barkley. "That would be very nice, Dee, if it's not too much trouble?" "No trouble at all, Pat. I'll have the process started tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse us, Becky, Ginny and I have some other things to discuss." "Of course, Dee. Thank you again." "Thank you, ma'am," I said. I nodded and smiled at Ms. Williams and Mrs. Hall. "You're welcome, honey." "Bye, sweetie, see you in class tomorrow," Mrs. Hall said. We left the office and shut the door behind us. In the car on the way home, I wondered what the three women were going to talk about and guessed it was probably more about me. That's when it started to sink in: I was going to officially be a girl in school. I would be going by my girl name, wearing girl clothes without getting in trouble, taking Home Ec and girl's P.E. For all intents and purposes, I was now a girl, everywhere. "Wow," was all I could say. Mommy chuckled. "Yeah, 'wow', sweetie," she said. *** *** *** Mommy dropped me off at home before going to pick up Darryl and Rita from Aunt Janie's house. I went to my room and changed into play clothes: a pair of tight terry-cloth pink shorts, a matching pink tank- top and some flat-heeled sandals with pink straps. Pink was definitely my favorite color. I looked at the clock on my vanity and wondered what was taking Mommy so long. I was doing some of my Math homework when Mommy, Darryl and Rita finally got back. I heard the front door open, slam, and then open and close again. Curious, I went out to the front room. On the way, Darryl passed me in the hallway. He pushed me aside, walked into his room and slammed the door. I was on my way back to my room to do more homework when Rita ran up behind me and hugged me from behind, and she then started tickling me. I tried running away but she caught me and we fell down and rolled around on the floor of our room, tickling and pinching each other, laughing, giggling and squealing. She liked to surprise me like that for some reason, but I liked us being so close, and besides it was fun. Occasionally she'd accidentally tickle me "down there" but she always apologized with a silly smile on her face. When we calmed down we sat on our beds. I went back to my homework while she brushed her long, blonde hair. "Mommy says that your school is going to let you be a girl." She looked over at me. "She even went and got you a girl's P.E. uniform." "Un huh, they're changing my name and everything." I smiled. I reminded myself to thank Mommy for getting my new uniform. "So you're gonna be Joanne everywhere now?" she asked excitedly. "That's so cool!" I looked up at her. She was trying to reach her hair in back. "Yeah, I'm really happy about it," I said. "Come over here, let me brush you out, then you can brush me." Rita sat on one side of my bed with her back to me. I liked brushing her hair; she had such thick hair and it was so beautiful, a long honey-blonde. I'd been blonde when I was little but when I was eight or nine it started turning brown. I brushed her hair in long, slow strokes, using my other hand to smooth it down her back and caress it over her shoulders. "Will you start wearing dresses soon?" she asked. "I bet you'd look really nice in a dress or a cute little skirt and top." I didn't know when I would get to have a dress. I knew that Daddy would prefer me to be wearing them; he'd said so often enough when we were alone together and I was sliding my hand up and down the length of his cock in his pants. But Mommy said she wanted to take things slowly, and I understood, I think. But with the school basically telling me I could wear dresses, if I wanted, what was stopping me? "I don't know, Rita," I answered finally. "Do you want to wear dresses like me?" she asked. She turned around and looked me in the face. "I think you do." She took the brush from my hand. "That's enough; your turn." I turned around and let her start brushing my hair. "Your hair is getting almost long enough to do some styles. We have to get Mommy to show us how," she said. "That would be nice," I said. I luxuriated in the feel of the brush bristles caressing my scalp and gently pulling through my hair. It was just above my shoulders already. Mommy said it would look nice if I let it grow at least down to the middle of my back. But I had already decided to grow it even longer. Mommy and Rita had warned me about how much work it was to take care of long hair, but I didn't care. I was experiencing some of that in caring for my hair as it was then. But hair down to my bottom like I wanted would be really sexy, I thought. I just knew Daddy would like it like that. "And yes, I want to wear dresses, sis, but I don't think I'm ready yet." She giggled. "You will be soon," she said, reaching around and squeezing one of my boobies. "Real soon!" "Ow!" My boobies still hurt for some reason. Mommy said that would go away soon, but they still did. I was sure it was because they were still growing. "That wasn't fair! I don't get to squeeze you like that." "Don't be a baby!" she laughed. "And you can't squeeze me there because I don't have anything to squeeze yet!" "Ha, ha!" I couldn't help but to start laughing. I turned around and started tickling her again. "But I can still do this!" I said. We started our tickling and pinching game again, giggling and laughing and squealing like the girls we were. When we slowed down again, our arms were entwined around each other. "When I start growing boobies, I'll let you squeeze them," she said with a serious look on her face. She scooched closer to me and smiled. "Even if hurts." "Sure, sure, you say that now," I replied. I was sure she was joking. Besides, I had no interest in touching girls like that. I yawned as the stress from school and the relaxation of our hair brushing finally caught up with me. That's how Mommy found us when she came to get us for dinner: lying in my bed, facing each other, noses touching, our arms wrapped around each other, fast asleep. Neither of us saw her start to cry and run from the room, sobbing. *** *** *** After I'd washed and put away the dinner dishes that night, I finally worked up the courage to call Mandy. I sat at the dining room table, and picked up the handset. My hands shook while I dialed her number and waited for the answer. Suddenly I heard a deep, masculine voice on the other end. "Hello?" the voice said. "Hello?" I said. "Umm ... May I speak to Mandy, please?" I asked. I couldn't help be the polite little girl Mommy and Daddy had trained me to be. "Hold on," he said. I then heard his muffled voice call out: "Mandy! Get that tight little ass down here! There's some little cunt on the phone for you!" I was a 'cunt'? I wondered what a 'cunt' was while I waited. A minute or so later I heard Mandy's soft voice. "Hello?" she said. "Hi, Mandy, this is Joey?" I didn't mean it to come out as a question. I hoped I didn't sound as nervous as I felt. "Hi, Joey!" she said, sounding so bright and cheerful. "I'm so glad you called!" My heart was fluttering in my chest, but I wanted to find out what was going on. "You said we had to talk?" I asked. "What about?" "Don't be worried, Joey," she said. "I just wanted to tell you how cool I think you are for *finally* coming out like this." "You think I'm 'cool'?" Nobody had ever even said they liked me, let alone said that I was 'cool'. I couldn't believe how good it felt to hear her say that. "Oh yeah, babe, I think you're great!" She sounded so sincere. "None of the other boys like you would be so brave. Or so cute!" Me, brave? She had to be kidding about that. I lived in a constant state of fear, especially at school. I was going to tell her that when the other thing she said finally sunk in. "Other boys? Like me?" "Didn't you know?" Mandy asked. "Know what?" I sounded so stupid. "Silly girl!" She laughed. "I know three boys like you at school, gentle boys that like other boys as much as I know you do. They're good friends of mine. They hang out with me and my girl friends a lot. We do all sorts of things together, and have a lot fun." She paused to take a breath and then whispered: "One of them even likes to play dress- up. He looks sooo nice as a girl, but not as nice as you!" I was shocked. I had no idea. How could I have been so blind? "Who are they?" I finally managed to ask. "You'll find out, cutie pie, you'll find out," she said, a hint of mystery in her voice. "What do you mean?" I was getting nervous again, but I really wanted to know who those boys were. I didn't think I was a boy anymore, but maybe if I got to meet them I wouldn't feel so alone. Mandy laughed. "Don't worry, Joey," she said. "It'll be a surprise I just know you're gonna like, a lot. Tell your Mom you want to leave for school early tomorrow, but come to my house first." She waited for me to get a pencil and notepad so I could write down her address and directions to get there. "How much earlier?" I asked. "Early enough to get to meet the boys I told you about." "I'm not sure ..." I started to say. It almost felt like she was setting me up for a prank or something. But she seemed so open and honest. It was hard for me to trust kids from school after all that had happened since we moved to this stinky mill town. "Oh, Joey," she said. "Don't be afraid! They all want to get to know you better. You were all we talked about after school today. I just know you'll like them." She paused. "And my Mom will be here the whole time." I suddenly felt like I had to do it. "Okay," I said quietly. "Really?! Oh, Joey, you're gonna be so glad you said 'okay'!" "I hope so." Her enthusiasm was catchy. I really hoped she was right. It would be so nice to have real friends my own age. "Count on it, pretty girl! Oh! That reminds me! Do you have anything to wear that's ... like ... you know ... maybe ... a little sexy?" "I don't know, Mandy. I might be able to find something," I said as a few ideas popped into my head. "My mother says it's best if I change to a girl gradually." Over the last couple weeks, I'd started to suspect Mommy was purposefully making my transition as slow as she could so my being with Daddy would be put off as long as possible, even though we both felt it was going to happen someday anyway. "I don't have any skirts or dresses yet," I added. "Don't worry about it," Mandy said. "Do the best you can. See you at eight o'clock?" "Okay," I said. "Eight o'clock!" "I can't wait! The boys are just gonna eat you all up! Bye!" "Bye!" I said. We disconnected and I just sat at the dining room table with the phone in my hand. I was so slow! It was only after we'd hung up that I'd realized what she'd said, and what it probably meant. The idea sent quivery feelings through my crotch, up through my tummy and made my nipples hard and tingly. When I looked up I saw that Mommy was standing in the doorway leading towards the living room. The huge, sparkling smile she wore made her face even more beautiful. "It sounds like you've made a new friend, honey," she said. "I think I have," I replied. "Mandy wants me to meet her at her house a little while before school tomorrow." "I hope you said 'yes'?" I just nodded my head. "Good! What time are you supposed to meet up with Mandy?" "Eight o'clock," I replied. "Why so early?" "She wants to introduce me to some other friends of hers before we go to school." "Wow, Joanne, not just one friend but a whole group!" She walked over to me and we hugged. "I think it's wonderful, darling. I can't wait to meet them." She pulled back and kissed me on the cheek. "Aren't you glad to be a girl now, sweetie?" "Oh yes, Mommy!" I replied honestly. I really did like my new life as a girl. As scary as it was, it was so much easier than pretending to be a boy, so much more natural and pleasurable. And it seemed like it was going better than I'd thought. End of Part 2