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Reluctant Coed By Annie James As the coach sped through the black of the night Robert thought about his childhood friend Donna. What a saviour she had proved to be for a destitute and despairing orphan! It was her suggestion which had led to this all-night bus trip, and to the confidence with which he was beginning to face his prospects for the future. It was strange how an almost forgotten friendship from such a long time ago had proved to be the bridge to renewed opportunity and restored hope. How his life had changed in that short interval since High School graduation! He had received notice of his acceptance in the University on the very day that his parents were killed. Three days later their bodies were laid to rest and their grieving son had learned the discouraging news that after settlement of the estate there would be no money left to permit him to continue his education. Donna's letter of condolence came as a complete surprise. He had not seen or heard of her since her family had moved away about the time she finished grade school. His letter of appreciation thanking her for her concern had somehow grown into a four page epistle into which he had poured his grief at the loss of his parents as well as his despair at having to abandon his projected college career. She was so touched by his letter that she responded with a long telephone call, during which she suggested that he contact the University about the possibility of receiving a bursary. It was she who advised him that the Psychology Department of the State University in Centreville was seeking volunteers for a year-long experiment, volunteers who would receive free tuition and living expenses. Sleep continued to elude him as the bus droned on through the night. Too bad he had used up all the sleeping tablets which the Doctor had prescribed when he was first told of his parents' death. As his restlessness continued he remembered the strange relationship he had had with the tomboyish Donna. She was a year older than him, but they had been companions on the walk to and from school for the entire period during which they were neighbours. She had protected him from older bullies and he had reciprocated by standing up for her right to join in the boys' sporting activities. On occasion, when his protests resulted in them both being excluded, he had joined her in a game of jacks, or in skipping, or acted as her partner for hopscotch with the other girls. Her suggestion during their telephone conversation had led him to seek an interview when a representative of the University visited his community. Somewhat to his own surprise, that interview had led to an invitation to participate in the planned experiment. Hence this long bus trip to report for instructions a week before the start of the first semester. He wondered just exactly what would be expected of him. So far he had only been told that he would be required to submit to the gender- related restrictions faced by all female students, so that his reactions as a male could be evaluated. Oh well, he would understand more about that after he reported to his faculty adviser in the morning! Sleep overcame him at last and he awakened only as the bus pulled into the terminal at his destination. It was a surprise for Bob to be paged in the bus terminal. A lady professor from the Psychology Department had come to meet him and drive him to his new home. "And where is my new home to be?" he asked Professor Jamieson after they were seated in her car and under way. "A private room has been reserved for you inside the women's residence," she answered. "You being segregated away from male company forms an important part of our experiment. I am also the Dean of the residence so I will be close at hand at all times to help if you have problems." The drive was a short one and they were soon unloading Bob's two suitcases and carrying them into the residence. Professor Jamieson insisted on carrying one of the cases in spite of Bob's protest and she led the way into her own quarters. "We'll stop here first," she announced. "I am sure you would appreciate some breakfast before doing anything further." When his bags had been set down inside the front door she added an invitation for him to accompany her to the kitchen to help prepare the light meal. He participated readily in setting the table, pouring the orange juice, making the coffee, and buttering the toast before they sat down to eat. While they sat at the table she asked about how he had come to volunteer for this experiment and almost before he realized it, the story of his recent misfortune and grief was being poured out into a sympathetic ear. "So that's my story," he finished, "and I certainly do appreciate the opportunity to have my costs paid during the school year. Otherwise I would have no choice but to find some unskilled job. By the way, can you explain to me exactly what this experiment is all about and what I am going to have to do?" "It will all become clear later in the day, but right now let's get the dishes done before we talk about it further." Bob yawned several times while they dried the dishes and stacked them in the cupboard, leading Professor Jamieson to suggest that they go immediately to see his room. "Just leave your bags where they are," he was told. "They can be collected later." The entrance to his room was just across the hall. The room contained the standard undergraduate furniture, twin size bed, chest of drawers, bookshelves, desk, and lamp. Professor Jamieson walked over to the smaller of two doors on one side of the room and opened it to reveal a small clothes closet with a supply of wire coat hangers. She closed the door again and opened the second door into a full bathroom, saying as she did, "All the other residents will be jealous that you have your own bathroom and don't have to line up at the end of the hall to use the common facilities." She looked back to find Bob still standing in the middle of the room trying to suppress another yawn. "I'm sorry, what were you saying," he queried. "I think you are pretty worn out from your long bus ride. Why don't you just crawl into bed for the rest of the morning? We can finish our discussion after you wake up." She opened a bureau drawer and took out a small bundle. "Here's a pair of polojamas." She handed them to him, walked back across the room and paused at the door. "I'll see that no one disturbs you until you wake up fully rested. Have a good sleep now." She stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her. Left to his own devices Bob yawned once more, sat on the edge of the bed, slowly undressed, and pulled on the top and bottom of the polojamas. He laid his discarded clothes across the chair and slid under the bed covers. Almost immediately he fell into the deepest and most dreamless sleep that he had experienced since the death of his parents. CHAPTER 2 Bob was awakened from his deep sleep by a hand insistently grasping his shoulder. He came slowly to his senses and sat up, rubbing his eyes at the same time. "Where am I?" he asked of no one in particular as he stared around the unfamiliar room. "Oh, Professor Jamieson," he grunted as he regained his sense of reality. "It's time to get up," the professor said. "It's three in the afternoon. If you don't you won't be able to sleep tonight." "I guess you're right," acknowledged Bob. "Where are my clothes? I thought I left them on the chair." He swung his legs over the side of the bed but remained seated. Professor Jamieson sat in the chair opposite and began to talk. "Now that you're rested it's time for us to have our talk about your part in the experiment. You understand that the purpose is to determine how a male would react to the restrictions that society places on members of the female gender. So far you have reacted admirably. Perhaps you did not even realize you were being tested when I required you to help with the breakfast preparations and with clearing up. Many males are accustomed to being waited upon at mealtime by whatever female is present." "I only thought I was doing the polite thing," commented Bob. "However there is more to it than being expected to make meals and do dishes. You realize I am sure that people will only treat you as they would a female if they genuinely think that is what you are. So we have to disguise you as a girl!" "Disguise me as a girl? How can you do that?" "It won't be too difficult, provided you cooperate. I will show you what you are to do. If you follow instructions exactly, no one will know, outside of ourselves and one other student whom you will meet later today. It is very important that no one suspect. If anyone finds out, the experiment will be cancelled and you will be back on your own to pay for your tuition and living expenses. Do you understand that part clearly?" "Yes, I think so. If anyone finds out I am not a girl, I'll have to quit school. I guess I'll have to do my best." "If that is quite understood then, we can get started. Beside the bathroom sink you will find a bottle of specially formulated depilatory cream. You will have to use it about once a week to keep all traces of your beard from showing. You can put it on your face right now and then take a shower as soon as it dries. I'll leave some clothes on the chair for you to put on when you finish and I'll be back in about twenty minutes. Do you think that's enough time?" "It should be." "Well hurry along then. I'll see you shortly." Bob went immediately to the bathroom where he followed the directions in spreading the gooey cream over his face. As he sat on the toilet waiting for it to dry, he wondered about the instructions he had just received, giving serious consideration to the idea of backing out of the whole thing. Somehow he had failed to realize all the implications of volunteering to participate. Finally however, he removed the polojamas, turned on the shower and stepped into the tub. After wetting his head and his body he soaped himself well and shampooed his hair before moving so that his head and face were again under the rushing water. He enjoyed the sensation as shampoo, soap, and the thick cream were rinsed off and washed down the drain. After he had shut off the water and towelled himself vigorously, one hand reached up to feel his cheeks. The skin felt smooth and bristle free. For a moment he stared at his face in the mirror, fascinated that all traces of moustache and sideburns had disappeared. He slipped his pyjama bottoms back on, becoming aware for the first time that they contained no fly. He smiled to himself as he glanced back in the mirror at his bare chest. "I wonder what they intend to do about that?" he pondered before returning to the bedroom. On the chair he found his intended clothes, cotton briefs, T-shirt, jeans, and anklets, the latter in a bright red colour. On the floor was a pair of penny loafers. What he had at first glance identified as briefs had no fly front and had some lace trim around the leg holes. They fitted him snugly and he was forced to adjust them around his privates as he might have had to do with jockey shorts. The T-shirt was grey and decorated with the university logo. It was the jeans which he found the most radical. They had a side zipper along with a tight waistband which he could only fasten by sucking in his breath. The shoes were a comfortable fit. Bob had just completed dressing and was remaking the bed and placing his polojamas under the pillow when a short knock and a turning door handle announced the return of Professor Jamieson. She commented favourably about his tidiness in making the bed but made no remark about his form of dress. Instead she led him into the bathroom where she seated him on the toilet seat so that she could work with his still damp hair. He said little as she combed it and rolled curlers into place. Her only comment was to compliment him on the smoothness of his face. In reply he said that the curlers made him feel like a porcupine. When she had finished he stood looking at himself in the mirror for a moment while she went back to the bedroom to get a flowered silk kerchief which he was required to place over the curlers and tie under his chin. "There, I think you will do for the moment," she told him. "Now let's go back to my apartment and get you a glass of milk before we start preparing supper." Bob's fear of meeting someone in the corridor as they crossed the hall proved groundless and he was soon seated in the Professor's kitchen drinking his milk and nibbling on a cheese cracker. When his immediate hunger had been relieved he followed directions for beginning the preparation for the supper meal. This involved him in learning to make a filling for a pie shell, in peeling potatoes and carrots, in grating and mixing the ingredients of a salad, and in slicing the cold meat. His comment that these were all unfamiliar activities which he had never done before brought forth the Professor's comment that, "Any young girl would have learned these skills from her mother by the age of ten." Bob could think of no reply. While he continued his work in the kitchen Professor Jamieson answered the door to admit a visitor whom she invited to sit in the living room before calling Bob from the kitchen to be introduced. As he diffidently entered the room, shy about being seen with the silk scarf covering his head of curlers, the visitor rose from his chair. He was introduced as Don Stevenson, a senior year student. After the short introduction Bob returned to the kitchen to continue with his meal preparation and to set the dining room table for three. The visitor remained seated in the living room reading the afternoon papers while the Professor alternated between the newest guest and supervising Bob's work. During the meal which followed Bob concentrated hard on remembering to see that each food was passed first to the visitor and that he was offered seconds when appropriate. Bob's responsibility to remove the empty dishes, to pour the coffee and to slice and serve the pie kept him from fully enjoying his own meal and limited the amount he had time to eat. He blushed when Don complimented him on his alleged skill as a cook. Afterwards Bob cleared the table and did the dishes by himself while the others returned to the living room. Later when he had joined the others, he learned why Don had been invited and what his role was to be in the experiment. "I'm here to help whenever you need a male companion or escort and no other volunteer is available," stated the latter. Bob's interest was peaked by this remark and he took careful stock of the tall dark haired and neatly dressed young man, while Professor Jamieson explained that Don was the only other student in the University who knew Bob's real identity and that he could be counted on to keep the secret. "He'll try to be around on campus whenever you need help in coping with aggressive males." "Aggressive males? Why should I need protection from aggressive males?" "Perhaps you won't," she replied, "but we can't afford to take chances. You may very well find that some lothario will refuse to take no for an answer." The concept that the Professor thought he might attract male admirers shocked Bob. He could think of no response to make but was spared the necessity of replying as she continued. "Don will help out by showing you around the campus tomorrow. You have an appointment with the staff doctor in the morning for a checkup so he will start by going with you to the medical building." "By the way," contributed Don, "what will you want me to call you tomorrow? You can't be known as Bob! Do you prefer Roberta or Bobbie?" "I hadn't thought about it. Anything else will seem strange. You can decide what to call me. I'll tell you later if I don't like it." At Professor Jamieson's suggestion the three spent some time playing Chinese Checkers while their conversation continued and the two young people became a little better acquainted with each other. Bob learned that Don had lived in the same town as his old friend Donna Stewart and had attended high school with her. According to Don they were cousins. He did not know for sure but thought she was attending College in another state. He expressed surprise when told that she was responsible for Bob's enrolment in this experiment. About nine-thirty the game ended and they shared another pot of tea which Bob prepared. After Don had departed Bob was given the key to his room and offered a chance to retrieve any particular wants from his suitcases. Clothing and toilet articles however were specifically prohibited and he finally took only his writing paper, alarm clock, and the pocket book he had been reading. The bags and their contents would remain in the professor's apartment for safe keeping. As she handed him the key to his room she added a final instruction, "Be up and showered by seven but don't get your hair wet." As she said this his hand raised instinctively to feel the curlers which he had forgotten were still in place. "I'll remove them," she continued, "when I come over to help you dress and prepare for the day. Oh, and one more thing. Wash out your underpants and socks before you go to bed and hang them on the towel bar overnight to dry. Properly brought up girls always put on clean underwear each day." Back in his room Bob changed again to his polojamas and obeyed the instruction to wash out his underpants. Then he examined all the cupboards and drawers but found most of them empty. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom however was fully stocked with a variety of bottles and tubes, all of which appeared to be unopened and most of which appeared to be related to feminine grooming. Sleep came to him slowly as he turned in bed trying to find a comfortable position which would minimize the discomfort from the curlers. He seriously thought of backing out of the experiment on the morrow even if it meant losing his opportunity for higher education. His mind was still not made up on this point but he finally resolved to try one more day before making an irrevocable decision. He spent a restless night with his sleep disturbed often by the curlers whenever he turned over. CHAPTER 3 It was a struggle to respond to the alarm at six-thirty but once awake Bob went immediately to the bathroom. He almost forgot to wear the plastic shower cap, but remembered in time to cover his bulging hair. He found it strange that his face still felt smooth so there was no necessity to shave. When Professor Jamieson tapped on the door at seven and let herself into the room with her own key, she found him again wearing his jeans and T-shirt as he sat reading his pocket book. "Good Morning, Roberta," she greeted him, "I'm pleased to find you up and ready. Let's get started at once." He acknowledged her greeting and waited for her instructions. From her carry bag she handed him a small package, saying, "Take off your jeans and pull this pantie-girdle on over your panties. Don't bother going into the bathroom. Do it right here so I can see how well it fits." Somewhat sheepishly Bob complied. He found some difficulty pulling the white lycra garment up beyond his knees. "Are you sure this is my size?" he asked. "The size label says it is. It will be easier though if you undo the zipper first." When he had done this the garment came more readily up around his lower body. "Now fit your privates comfortably into the crotch and I will help you fasten the hooks and close the zipper. Pull in your stomach so I can fasten the waist." The top of the garment came as high as his ribs and when it was fastened he could feel a continuing pressure around his midriff. "That does improve your shape considerably," she commented. "Don't put your jeans back on yet. Come look in the bathroom mirror to see how it narrows your waist. There's light padding to fill out your hips a little too." As Bob stood looking at himself in the mirror he ran his hands down his hips, feeling the taut smooth material that rounded and smoothed his buttocks. "Off with your T-shirt now, and lift an arm while I get the hair in your armpit with this electric shaver." He continued watching his reflection while raising each arm in turn. "Roll this deodorant on while I get your bra." The padded brassiere fitted snugly around him. She adjusted the shoulder straps to her satisfaction before making him reach up behind his back to unhook and rehook it several times. He did so with difficulty. "You'll have to do this for yourself in the Doctor's office," she warned. He was startled by the realistic way in which the shape of his body had apparently been changed. He obeyed her order to don his jeans and a fresh T-shirt before sitting obediently on the toilet seat while she applied red polish to his fingernails, and he continued holding the hands outstretched for the polish to dry. "We won't bother with a lot of makeup. You'd probably smear it anyway when you undress for the Doctor. I'll do your eyebrows though." Bob flinched when she began to pull hairs with a small pair of tweezers but he gritted his teeth and said nothing even though tears formed in his eyes. The process seemed to him to go on for a very long time. When she paused at last he found some relief by rubbing his fingers over the smarting brows and wiping his eyes with the tissue she handed him. She now turned her attention to removing the curlers from his hair. "It's a relief to get rid of those," commented Bob. "They wakened me every time I turned over in bed last night." "You'll think it was all worth while when you see how it looks after I finish combing it out," she answered. Indeed, when he did finally stand and turn to face the mirror again, he was astounded at the change in his appearance. The smooth face with newly narrowed eyebrows framed by softly curling hair looked to him like that of a stranger. As his eyes moved down to take in his body, reshaped by brassiere and girdle, he knew that persons meeting him for the first time would have no hesitation in assigning him a female gender. It seemed very appropriate to the face in the mirror as he applied the lipstick which she handed him and blotted his lips with tissue. "Come back to the other room and we'll try the shoes I brought for you," she said after she felt he had stared at his image for long enough. The rather dainty pumps which she held out to him had heels only about an inch in height. They fitted his feet snugly but at first he had some difficulty in learning to place his weight directly over the narrow heel support. "Keep your head up and shoulders straight," he was reminded as he practised walking about on the rug. He stopped his pacing and stood in one place while she used a tape to make a record of his measurements. "Bust 34, waist 28, and hips 34," were among the figures she recorded on a piece of paper. About five minutes to eight, Professor Jamieson left her prot?g? alone to await the arrival of Don. Before stepping out the door however she gave him a small hand bag with a long strap. "You can hang it over one shoulder when you go out," she told him. "It's got your lipstick and some tissues in it along with money to pay for your meals in the cafeteria today. There is also a wallet with your new identification. Everything is made out for 'Roberta Harriet Henderson' with sex indicated as female, even on your driving licence." Alone in the room, Bob continued to walk around anxiously as he thought about the coming ordeal of appearing in public for the first time in his new guise. He was still pacing, if his timid steps could be called that, when a rap on the door announced the arrival of his assigned escort and guide. Nervously he unlatched the door and stepped back to admit Don. Neither said anything as they stood staring at each other for the first few seconds. Bob was wondering what the other thought of him, while Don was dumbfounded by the transformation which had occurred in the young person to whom he had been introduced the evening before. Don broke the silence first. "Bobbie, I'm amazed," were his first words. "You look really classy, even if you're still dressed in jeans. I can see already that I'm going to have competition for your company. I hadn't expected you to look this good." "Do you really think so?" was Bob's involuntary question prompted by his need for reassurance. "No doubt about it, you can give most of the girls here a run for their money. Are you ready to go?" "I just have to pick up my purse." How strange it seemed to Bob to give such a typically feminine answer! Don found it a perfectly natural response from this apparent coed. CHAPTER 4 That first step out into the corridor took all the courage Bob could muster. It seemed to him that Don should go first and it was not until he was prompted by the words, "Ladies first," that he realized that the door was being held open for his exit. He felt particularly conspicuous while he waited outside for Don to set the latch and check that the door had closed securely. "Yes, I have the key in my purse," he answered to Don's question. As they walked along the corridor, one hand held tight to the purse which hung from his shoulder, while the other tried instinctively to reach into a side pocket. He struggled for a moment before realizing that the close-fitting jeans were constructed with only decorative patches instead of the roomy pockets to which he was accustomed. It took effort to keep his unoccupied hand hanging loose as they walked. It was an equal struggle to keep from pulling his arm away when Don grasped his elbow to guide him down the steps outside the residence entrance. It was Don's grip which saved him from a nasty fall when his unfamiliar heels caught on the stair tread. As they started along the sidewalk Don stepped around behind him to reach the curb side, a manoeuvre which Bob had often carried out himself when walking with a girl. "I guess I'll have to get used to having the gentleman walk on the outside," he thought to himself and then repeated the thought aloud by way of making conversation. "I bet you'll also have fellows offering to carry your books for you," laughed Don. "That'll be a funny day. I won't know what to say if someone does offer." "You'd probably be wise to 'Go with the flow' as they say. Anyway you'll have to make up your own mind about that." On the short walk to the refectory they met several pedestrians, none of whom paid any special attention to the disguised Bob, which fact, combined with Don's pleasant banter helped him to be more relaxed as they entered the cafeteria line and picked up their trays. Bob fumbled a bit as he looked through his purse to find money to pay the cashier. He felt conspicuous again while he delayed the line to put his change away and zip up the bag once more. Then he stood with his tray in his hands facing the dining area while he waited for Don to finish paying, rather than himself leading the way yo select a table. As they walked across the room however it was Bob who suggested they sit at a table for two on the outside wall where they would have a view of the whole room. Even in eating Bob found himself affected by his transformation. Several times the flash of his coloured fingernails reminded him of his changed appearance, and the jutting mounds on his chest intruded on his peripheral vision each time he looked down. He kept remembering his mother's teachings from when he was a small boy, hold your cutlery properly, use your knife to cut your bacon, take small bites, chew your food well. He knew it was silly to think that Don, and the others in the room, would judge him by the fine details of his table manners but his mind continued to dwell on such matters. Don's efforts at conversation during the meal and his remarks about other diners in the room helped to relax him again so that it seemed no time at all until he was gently dabbing at his lips with a serviette while a waitress poured them refills for their coffee. They lingered over their cups until it was almost time for Bob's appointment with the doctor. They were carrying their trays of dirty dishes to set on the rack for the kitchen staff when he felt a sudden need to empty his bladder. "Don, where's the washroom?" he hissed in a low voice. The reply was given in a normal tone of voice, "Over there on the right. I'll wait for you outside." Don reached the rack first, set his tray down, and turned to take his companion's tray and slide it into place. Bob realized just on time that he was expected to accept this courtesy and released the tray. He turned and headed for the sign marked Washrooms. The click of his heels as he crossed the room raised his level of apprehension once more and made him feel that everyone must be looking at him. Indeed several seated male diners were doing just that, evaluating him as a prospective date during the coming semester. Remembering to choose the door marked Ladies; he entered quickly and found himself a stall. The awkwardness of having to hang up his purse, unzip and lower both jeans and girdle, lower his panties, and sit, just to empty his bladder, was a strong reminder of the adjustments he would have to make if his masquerade were to continue for the full school year. He sighed with relief as the pressure in his abdomen eased, wiped himself with a tissue, (what boy standing at a urinal would do that?), and struggled back into his clothes. Emerging from the stall he walked over to a sink to rinse his hands, again a ritual which he might have omitted if he had stood at a urinal. A glance in the mirror and at a girl standing several places away prompted another typically feminine action. He reached in his purse, took out his lipstick, carefully recoated his lips, and blotted them with a tissue. A few minutes later when he rejoined Don the latter remarked, "I see you remembered to freshen your lipstick." Bob's face flushed red with embarrassment. Again Don walked on the outer portion of the sidewalk as they strolled the several blocks to the Medical Centre. Outside the entrance he paused and said, "Your Doctor's office is on the second floor. You won't need me to go up with you so I'll leave you now. You can find your own way back to the residence. I'll meet you there again at noon to go for lunch. So long for now, Bobbie." Bob walked up the entranceway steps, crossed the lobby, pushed the button for the elevator, and waited impatiently for its arrival. A man in a business suit stood aside to allow him to be first to enter the car when it arrived. Bob hesitated, then stepped forward. As he turned to face the door he smiled at the man and murmured, "Thank you." "No trouble at all, Miss. Which floor did you want?" was the prompt reply. Once in the office of the medical suite Bob walked rather diffidently up to the receptionist's desk to say that he had an appointment with Dr. Andrews. The receptionist looked down at the appointment list on her desk. "You must be Miss Henderson, then. Roberta Henderson?" she asked. "That's right," he responded simply. "You are to go right in. It's the second door on the left." As he opened the indicated door and stepped into the office an older woman dressed in a white lab coat stood up and came around the desk to greet him. "Good Morning," she said, holding out her hand. "You must be Roberta Henderson. Welcome to the clinic, Roberta. I'm Dr. Andrews. You can sit there beside the desk for the moment." An involuntary, "Oh!" escaped from Bob's lips as he shook the Doctor's hand. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "No, it's just that I was expecting a male Doctor. I didn't mean to be rude. I hope I didn't offend you." "I'm not offended, but you will have to get used to me. I am the doctor assigned to your case. By the way I think you look quite attractive this morning." Once more he blushed beet red, but did manage to respond with a, "Thank you, Doctor." She smiled across the desk at him. "You're still shy, I can see. Don't worry. You'll learn to accept a compliment. Lots of girls would envy your looks." He blushed more as she continued. "Now let me see your student card and your medical insurance card. We'll have to get the preliminaries out of the way." Bob dug into his purse for the necessary documents and handed them over. She filled out a number of forms and handed one to him for signature. He was told that it was a routine authorization for billing to the medical insurance plan. When the documentation was completed she handed back his cards and said, "Now, Roberta, go into the examination room through that door and take off every stitch of clothing, even your shoes and socks. As soon as you finish, lie face down on the examining table. I'll be in shortly to examine you." As he stripped off in the examination room Bob was at a loss to know what to think. Given his situation, would it be more embarrassing to be examined by a female doctor or a male doctor? He lost no time in removing his clothes and climbed up hastily on the table just before Dr. Andrews entered. She began by checking his pulse and then measuring his blood pressure. She listened with the stethoscope on the back of his ribcage before giving an order which he obeyed reluctantly. "Now turn over and sit up on the edge of the bed." As he complied he brought his knees together to keep his privates hidden between his legs. She placed the stethoscope on his chest and continued to listen. "Now cough." She finished with the stethoscope and picked up a small light. "Let's see into your left ear." "Now the right." "Now stand on the floor." She placed two fingers just above his crotch on the right side. "Cough." The fingers shifted to his other side. "Cough again." "Climb up on the table again and lie on your back." He did as directed silently, reaching down with his hand to push his privates down between his thighs just before he lay back. She moved toward his feet and began to examine his toes. With her hands she felt his arches and ankle joints. The hands moved up and felt each knee joint in turn. She turned away for a moment to don surgical gloves. The moment he had been dreading arrived. "Spread your legs." She peered at his genitals for a moment then reached forward and began feeling around the base of his scrotum. "Not circumcised I see." He said nothing as the inevitable began to happen. He felt the beginning of an involuntary erection. "Turn over on your stomach again." His penis started to relax again. "Spread your legs." Petroleum jelly was smeared between his ass cheeks. "Just relax now." He felt the discomfort as a finger was inserted into his anus to check his prostate. Dr. Andrews turned away to remove her surgical gloves and drop them in the waste container. "You can get dressed now. Here's a box of tissues so you can wipe yourself. I'll be waiting for you at my desk as soon as you're ready." The door closed behind her. Bob scrambled to dress quickly, relieved to have this ordeal behind him. With the practice he had had, his pantie-girdle was slid into place and fastened more easily than before, and he succeeded quickly in reaching to hook the bra behind his back. When the rest of his clothes were in place he picked up his purse and returned to the other room. Dr. Andrews was seated at her desk filling in some papers. She gestured to him to sit and continued with her task for another moment. Finally she looked up and smiled at him. "Well, Roberta, I find you perfectly healthy. You are in excellent physical condition. I have no hesitation in approving your participation in Dr. Jamieson's experiment. Do you have any questions about your health?" "I can't think of any." His voice dropped and became almost inaudible. "There is one. Will it do me any harm to wear a tight pantie-girdle?" "Not as long as you take it off every night before you go to bed. I wouldn't worry about it." "I'm still trying to decide if I will continue in the experiment or if I will drop out and find a job instead." "It would be a shame for you not to get your education, and there is no medical reason for you to quit." "Thank you for the reassurance, Doctor." "There is one thing I might do for you. Only if the idea appeals to you though!" "What's that?" "I could give you shots to help you grow your own breasts. That way you wouldn't have to pad your brassieres." "No thank you." "I didn't think the idea would appeal to you. You can always come back to me though if you change your mind later. One thing I will do for you though. I'll give you a prescription for birth control pills to keep in your purse." "What possible use could I have for birth control pills?" "Actually the reason is to give you an excuse to see me each month to renew your prescription. It will keep the receptionist and the office staff from wondering why you come in so often to see your doctor. You don't have to take them. You can flush one down the toilet each morning. In any case they wouldn't do you any harm if you did take them." On his way out Bob stopped at the receptionist's desk to arrange his next appointment. Her cheerful words as he left, "Goodbye, Miss Henderson, we'll see you next month," reminded him once more of his changed appearance. Back on the street he enjoyed strolling in the fresh sunny weather. He enjoyed the click of his heels on the sidewalk and he walked with an erect posture that emphasized the new contour of his chest. No longer did he avert his eyes from the persons he met on the street and he had ceased being oversensitive to appraising glances from passing males. To himself he thought, "Boy, would you be surprised if you knew what's under my girdle." At the drugstore while waiting for his prescription, he bought a newspaper and later spent a half hour sitting on a park bench in the sunshine while he read it. He left the park bench to return to the residence when a young man asked if he could use the other end of the bench. Bob had no desire to start a conversation with a stranger, particularly one of the male sex. Idly he wondered to himself if he would have been so quick to depart if the newcomer had been female. He could not answer his own question. There was only a short time to wait in his room before Don arrived to escort him to lunch. This time he did not blush as he said, "I'll be ready in just a moment, as soon as I freshen my lipstick." He stepped through the door in front of Don as if this were the most natural thing in the world to do, and he moved naturally to the inside as they made their way along the sidewalk. Even in the midst of a conversation with his companion he paused long enough at the entrance of the refectory to have the door held open for him again. Lunch proceeded so smoothly that he almost forgot that he was playing a different and strange role. Reality came back to him when they were joined at the table by two student friends of Don, one male and one female. "Jim and Bea, I'd like you to meet my friend Bobbie. She's a freshie." Bob stretched out his hand to be shaken and the newcomers sat down. Jim politely asked a few questions about Bob's background but quickly turned his attention to Don with questions and discussion of their shared classes. Bea and Bob found themselves more or less excluded and turned toward each other. Bea spoke first. "I like your nails. Is that the colour they call pink ice?" She held her hand out beside Bob's to compare. "I'm not sure. I've forgotten what it says on the bottle." "Mine's called hot fuchsia." Bob desperately looked for a way to change the topic of discussion. "Are you in third year too, like Don and Jim?" "No, just second." Bea leaned over conspiratorially to whisper in Bob's ear. "But I'm more interested in boys. Don't you think Jim is a dream?" Bob looked at their male companions. The idea of evaluating them from a woman student's point of view was novel to him. Bea straightened up and did not seem to expect an answer to her question. She began to speak about the classes she expected to take in the coming term, and she suggested several first year classes that she thought 'Bobbie' should consider, stressing particularly the ones she thought would have a lot of boys enrolled. It was a relief to Bob when the meal ended and they parted outside the refectory. He stood watching for a moment as Jim walked away with the mini-skirted Bea clinging tightly to his arm. Standing beside him, Don commented, "Isn't she a possessive little thing! I hope you never get to feel like that about me." "Not a chance," laughed Bob. Don stayed with him during the afternoon in case his help might become necessary while Bob was registering for each of his classes. No problems arose and he merely stood in the background while Bob filled out the necessary papers at each registration desk. Bob got lots of practice in printing out his revised name, checking 'f' for sex, and in remembering to include an extra 'a' in his signature. He became more used as well to being addressed as 'Miss Henderson'. Don proved helpful too as they left the bookstore. He joked about carrying 'Bobbie's' books for her, but actually both of them had arms full when they reached the residence just on time to leave again for supper. By six-thirty Bob found himself back in his room alone, sorting his books and arranging his desk. An hour later he was feeling bored so he decided to watch television in the residence common room. One other student was sitting there looking at the screen when he arrived. "Hi!" he introduced himself, "I'm Bobbie Henderson. Is there anything good to watch?" "Nothing much. Just a Quiz Show. I'm Jane Howard. Are you new here too?" She shifted on the chesterfield to make room for Bob. After he seated himself to watch, a quiet conversation developed between them during which he learned that she had a room several doors down from his, and that they were enrolled in several of the same classes. She proposed that the two might help each other by studying together as the term progressed. "That is, if you don't spend all your time with your boyfriend," Jane finished. "My boyfriend! I don't have a boyfriend." "Oh, I thought you did. I saw you with a boy at lunchtime, and he was with you at registration, too. And didn't he help you bring your books into the residence?" "Oh, you mean Don. He's just an old friend who is helping me to get started. He's not my boyfriend." "Then you won't mind if I flirt with him." "Go right ahead. Be my guest." Bob looked up as someone else spoke. "Good evening, Jane. Good evening Roberta." Professor Jamieson had entered the room. "Could you come and see me in my quarters now, Roberta? I have something to talk over with you." As he was leaving to follow Professor Jamieson, Jane asked, "Could we go together for breakfast tomorrow, Bobbie? I'd be happy to have company." "I'll meet you at eight, here in the common room," promised Bob. Don appeared just as they reached the professor's door and he accompanied them inside. "Why don't you start the coffee, Roberta?" suggested Professor Jamieson, "while Don is getting ready to tell us what he thought of your performance today." When Bob returned ten minutes later carrying a tray with steaming coffee cups and a plate of cookies, Don began his report. "I thought she looked awfully nervous in the beginning. She had trouble carrying on a conversation and she blushed whenever she thought she had done something wrong." "Like what?" "Like when she hesitated to walk through the door ahead of me, and when I complimented her about remembering to freshen her lipstick. She was still edgy when I left her at the Medical Centre, but when I called for her again for lunch she seemed a different person, relaxed and self- confident. She acted very natural all afternoon." "Dr. Andrews said she was very nervous, too. I wonder what brought about the change. Can you tell us yourself, Roberta?" Bob, who had sat silently listening to this description of his behaviour, was struck by their use of the feminine gender when talking about him here in the privacy of the apartment. He could offer no explanation for the change in his demeanour. "I just got used to being called Roberta, I guess." was all he could suggest. "I sort of told myself 'when in Rome do as the Romans do' and it seemed to work." "Which brings us to the sixty-four dollar question," said the professor. "What's that?" "Are you going to continue being Roberta, or are you going to back out as you threatened last night? And as you mentioned to Dr. Andrews, I might add." Bob did not reply at once. He reviewed in his mind his experiences of the day and the prospect of studying the subjects he had enrolled in this afternoon. When he answered it was with a serious and determined look on his face. "Yes, I am prepared to carry on as Roberta in order to get my education." "I don't think you'll regret it," said the professor. "You've got lots of guts," added Don. CHAPTER 5 Bob was up with the alarm at seven next morning. He showered quickly, dried himself thoroughly, and experimented with the fragrant bath powder which he found in the bathroom cupboard. His undergarments, which had dried overnight after being rinsed out before he retired, slid more easily over his freshly powdered skin. He looked with satisfaction at his reflection in the mirror after reaching behind his back to fasten his bra. He liked the narrow waist and smoothly curving hips provided by his snug girdle, though he remembered the feeling of release when it was removed the night before. He lifted one knee to examine the smooth hairless skin of his thigh and shin which he had shaved last night as ordered by Professor Jamieson. He found his profile still pleasing after he had donned his jeans, T-shirt, anklets, and shoes. Having followed instructions about wearing a hairnet to bed and a shower cap while bathing, it was not too difficult to comb his hair into a semblance of yesterday's style. He took time to pluck several more hairs from his eyebrow before completing his grooming by carefully colouring his lips. It was almost eight as he picked up his purse in readiness to leave the room. Suddenly his nervousness of the day before struck again and instead of exiting he set the purse down and returned to the bathroom to check his appearance once more. He was still doing this when the knock came on his door. Nervously he opened it to find Jane standing there, also in jeans and T-shirt. "I thought you were going to meet me in the common room," she began. "I'm sorry. It must be later than I thought," replied Bob. "I'll get my purse." Together they walked to the refectory and filled their breakfast trays. On the way Bob's nervous tension again made him a poor conversationalist. He kept thinking that yesterday Don would have helped out if he had slipped up, but today he was entirely on his own. Jane had no idea of his true sex and would be no help at all if he blundered. Fortunately nothing untoward happened and his irrational fears began to ebb as they completed their meal. It helped also that Don came by with a friend and, after a wave and a 'Hi' to Bob, sat at a nearby table. On the walk back to the residence Jane asked how he planned to spend the day, the last one before the beginning of classes. "I have to go out with Professor Jamieson, today," he answered. "She's sort of my guardian. My parents are dead and I have to answer to her for how I spend my money. We're going shopping. I'm sorry you can't come along with us but she specifically said I was to come alone." In her car on the way downtown Professor Jamieson commented on how different her passenger looked from two days earlier when she had collected him from the bus terminal. "There'll be even more of a contrast by the time we get back home today," she added. Their first stop was at a store into which Bob would have been embarrassed to go alone, even dressed as he was. The sign on the door read 'Intimate Things' and its windows were filled with models dressed in wispy peignoirs, corselettes, or simply panties and bra of satin and lace. He found himself standing at a counter fingering delicate panties which the professor handed to him for his comments about their appearance and style. "Shouldn't I just have something plain?" he asked her as a salesgirl approached. "Nonsense," was the reply. "Remember, we're trying to turn a country bumpkin into a young lady." In spite of his hesitation she chose eight of what he would have said were the sexiest pairs, in various colours of nylon or silk, and lace. After a discussion of the various makes and styles of bra available in the store he was led to a change room where, in company with the professor, he tried on more than a dozen. From them she chose four of one type which she decided would be practical for everyday wear and three others for special occasions, including a strapless and a basque. Even matching the names of the styles to the actual garments was a learning process for him. He was required to remove his jeans and girdle to try on a one-piece corselette which she added to their purchases. They did not leave the store until she had also made a selection of slips, camisoles, half-slips, and teddies, each of which he was required to feel and make a comment about before she decided on the purchase. He was amazed that their purchases all fitted into four shopping bags which they carried back to the car. "Now we'll choose a blouse and skirt for you. Bring along a camisole and half-slip to change into." When next they returned to the car he had been in four change rooms and had tried on eight skirts as well as more than a dozen blouses. He found that he preferred the blouses without front buttons because of the awkwardness of fastening them with his left hand. They left with four blouses, two sweaters, one pleated skirt, and one yoke skirt which fitted closely around the lower body but flared at the hips. The return of these parcels to the car was followed by a search for a dress. After looking through innumerable racks they selected a miniskirted yellow crepe number to be tried on. Professor Jamieson was delighted with its fit and appearance so it was chosen without further searching. He would have thought that they had completed their shopping but when he asked at the car if they would be leaving now, he was told, "Heavens no. We haven't even begun to look for shoes." At the shoe store he was first fitted with knee-high nylons to replace his red anklets before trying to walk across the rug in a pair of pumps with three inch heels. It was Professor Jamieson who insisted they be purchased even though she admitted they seemed to be more than he could manage smoothly. "You'll learn with a little practice." she told him. They also bought another pair of pumps and a pair of knee-height rainboots both with a more moderate heel along with a supply of sockettes for use when it might be too warm for stockings. Lunch in a department store cafeteria proved relaxing for Bob although he thought as he ate how strange it was to have chosen a salad in imitation of his companion's choices. At the conclusion of their meal she led the way to the ladies' washroom where he experienced again the nuisance of lowering his clothes to relieve his bladder. Afterwards she stood beside him at the mirror while he renewed his lipstick. His level of apprehension rose sharply when she led him next to the reception desk of the store's hair salon. "Yes," the receptionist answered, "we do have a reservation for Miss Henderson. Please follow me to meet your operator." Bob was shown pictures of several hairstyles that the operator said could be adapted to his present hair length. Acting on Professor Jamieson's advice, he chose a simple but attractive bob. He was left in the operator's care to receive a trim and wash, followed by a full- fledged permanent. It was an hour and a half before the professor returned to find him almost asleep under the dryer. After the final combing out he was led to another operator who was instructed to make up his face as if for a party. He was told to pay careful attention so he could understand how to make up his own face in future. When the mirror was held up to show him the final result, complete with eyeshadow and mascara, he had to agree with the operator that it was a shame he was not dressed in something more formal than jeans and T- shirt. "What time is it, now?" asked Bob as they left the salon. "Oh," exclaimed Professor Jamieson. "I had forgotten you don't have a watch. We'll fix that up right now." With her advice he chose a rather dainty watch with an expansion band but which nevertheless had a second hand and a date feature. He was still adjusting it when she spotted the sign advertising ear piercing, and before he could organize a protest, he found himself with a gold keeper ring in each earlobe. They looked at earrings but no purchase was made because she said it would be another week before he could replace the keepers. Instead they selected a gold locket on a chain to be worn with his yellow dress. Their final purchases of the afternoon included a raincoat with hood in a yellow satin gabardine, followed by silk gloves and scarf, with a purse for dressup occasions being the last item. "No doubt we have forgotten something, but in any case I'll take you out again on the weekend," she said as they ate in a fast food restaurant before returning home in her car. It took two trips from the car to bring all of Bob's parcels to his room. He was left alone to sort the purchases and find places for them in the bureau drawers and cupboard. He found it pleasurable to finger the silky pieces as they were neatly folded and laid away. Then he followed instructions by removing his jeans and T-shirt and replacing them with his new dress over a full slip. How delightful it felt to have the silky slip slide smoothly into place over his shapely body! Nylon sockettes replaced his red anklets and he walked toward the mirror on his new pumps with the high heels, to admire the quality of his artificial complexion. He clipped the locket and chain around his neck, then could not resist the impulse to add fresh powder to his nose and refresh his lipstick. A touch of the comb put the last strand of hair exactly into its place. Clutching his new purse in his hand he stepped out of his room and crossed the corridor to tap on Professor Jamieson's door. When the door opened she took one look before taking him by the hand and leading him to the centre of the room. "What do you think of our Roberta now?" she exclaimed to Don who was seated on the sofa. "She's a real doll," he responded. "Come and sit beside me," he added as he walked over to take Bob by the hand. Bob sat down gingerly, remembering to smooth his skirt beneath himself and placing his purse on his lap. The blush on his face was mostly concealed by his makeup and faded as he recovered from the shock of such outrageous flattery. "You don't look half bad tonight, yourself," put in Bob when he had fully recovered, noting Don's creased trousers, tie and sports jacket. "What's the occasion? Why are you all dressed up?" "I'm hoping to escort you to the movies," was the surprise answer. "Since you've just come back from the beauty parlour, I thought the chances were better that you would accept my invitation if I put on my tie and jacket." "Well, I don't know. I'm pretty tired from a whole day shopping, and I don't think there's enough left in my purse to pay for a theatre ticket." "Don't worry about that. Since I'm inviting you, naturally I'll pay." "You really should go, Roberta," put in the professor. "You do need practice in your role, and it is very generous of Don to offer, all things considered." Bob turned toward his fellow student, smiled and said, "I'd forgotten that it's always the man who pays. Lead on MacDuff, I guess I can take it if you can." The two young people departed at once. When Bob hesitated at the top of the entranceway stairs because of his high heels, Don turned to take his arm and continued holding it, with Bob tapping along at his side, until they reached his car. He held the door while Bob slid into the passenger seat. At the theatre parking lot he came round to open the door and offer a hand to help Bob descend. It seemed quite natural to Bob to accept these courtesies, though it felt a little strange to stand at the side while Don purchased the tickets, and to lead the way past the doorman while Don handed over the tickets and received the stubs. He refused Don's offer to buy popcorn, fearing the possibility of getting grease on his dress. They watched the movie mostly in silence, though Don took pains to point out to his companion the abandoned behaviour of some young couples in the theatre. "You'll have to be on your guard not to allow your date to get fresh when I'm not with you," he whispered. "What date? I have no intention of going out with boys!" "Don't be so sure of that. They're certainly going to ask and some may be quite persistent. Besides, the professor will insist that you accept some invitations and I won't always be around to escort you." "That reminds me. You've made quite an impression on Jane. I told her I wouldn't mind if she wants to flirt with you." "Really!" was Don's only response to this confidence. On the way out of the theatre Bob kept his escort waiting while he visited the ladies' washroom. Once more, in addition to relieving his bladder, he repowdered his nose, freshened his lipstick, and patted a stray hair into place. Later, sitting in the car sipping a coke at a drive-in, he was fascinated to observe the red stain on his straw where it had touched his lips. It was one more minor but specifically female experience which he would review in his mind before falling asleep tonight. They parted for the night at the door of the residence after Bob had once more been helped from the car and had his arm held as they mounted the stairs. He turned to express his, "Thank you for a pleasant evening." As Don shook his outstretched hand, he replied, "It's been a real pleasure for me. You're such a good-looker that sometimes I almost forget that you're not a girl." When the door to his room closed behind him, Bob began at once to prepare for bed. Dress and slip came over his head and were hung in the closet. The high heeled pumps were replaced with scuffs. On went the polojamas to replace the undergarments which were carried into the bathroom to be rinsed out and hung over the shower bar to dry. It saddened him when he looked in the mirror and realized he would have to remove the makeup which still highlighted his face. He really did like the look which the operator had created for him. Strange to see the keepers in his earlobes as he put a hairnet in place to help preserve his curls. His final action was to renew the polish on his fingernails. Somehow he could not resist the impulse to also colour his toenails. As he crawled into bed he began mentally to add up the pluses and minuses of the situation in which he found himself. On the negative side he listed first the soreness in his calves from an evening in high heels. There was the bother of rinsing out underclothes made from delicate fabrics and lace, rather than simply dumping them in the laundry. There was the necessity of watching his behaviour and his conversation, to be sure that it conformed to feminine conventions. Carrying a purse was a bother, and the necessity of entering a cubicle and removing so much clothing merely to empty his bladder a downright annoyance. He thought also that the effort needed to care for his hair and to apply makeup might interfere with more constructive use of his time. Switching mental gears he began to list for himself some positive aspects. Number one of course was that he was being provided with an education which would otherwise be beyond his reach. "Surely," he thought, "without that motivation I would never have let myself in for what I am going through. Shopping today was fun though. And it's pleasant to have a gentleman escort you to the movies, having doors held open for you and all. I did feel kind of pampered at the salon, and I did enjoy seeing my face and hair when it was all done up. Oh, and it's nice to have people look at you when you know they're admiring your face and figure. I guess I have to admit to myself that I enjoy wearing attractive clothes. Silks and satins feel marvellous next to my skin too." He could not help thinking how pleasurable it might be if his pyjamas were made of satin. Free from the control of a girdle his loins tingled at the thought until his body relaxed in sleep. CHAPTER 6 Bob rose quickly when the alarm roused him at seven. This would be the first day of classes in the new term. He had been warned by Professor Jamieson that the University's dress code forbade T-shirts and jeans for both male and female students and that most of the professors enforced this requirement by refusing attendance credits to those who broke the rule. "Damn," he mused to himself. "That means I'll have to wear a skirt. We never got around to buying the slack suit she promised me." After a quick shower, his hair properly protected by a plastic shower hat of course, he hastily chose panties, bra, and pantie-girdle from those purchased the previous day. The excitement generated in his genitals by the feel of the silky nylon panties was quickly brought under control by his girdle and he proceeded to don his lace-trimmed lycra bra and insert its pads. This was followed by a silky camisole and a half slip, before his pleated skirt and a boat-necked short-sleeved yellow silk blouse completed his ensemble. For shoes he chose black pumps with but a medium heel. Standing at the bathroom mirror he first attended to his hair which magically seemed to require only minimal combing, since it retained the curl which had been fixed by permanent wave solution at the salon. With his scant knowledge of cosmetics and total lack of experience, he had much difficulty in applying eye shadow which he had been told could be done easily and without using any other cosmetics for this his first experiment in making up his face. He was still engaged in this activity when a knock on the door interrupted his concentration. "Are you ready to go for breakfast?" asked Jane when he answered. "Oh, I see you're still making up your face." "I'll be ready shortly," he replied, "I smeared some eyeshadow and I have to clean it up. Come in and sit down for a moment." He returned to the bathroom mirror and quickly completed his task. As he finished he called out, "Jane, would you mind looking in my purse and bringing me my lipstick?" "No trouble." As she completed the delivery, she added a comment about the bathroom. "Gosh, you're lucky. I only have a sink in my room." The two young people made an attractive pair as they walked toward the refectory. Each wore a cardigan type sweater over a blouse. Jane, wearing somewhat more makeup, had on a dressy pair of slacks. Although he enjoyed the feel of his skirts swishing about his knees, Bob wished he had a pair of slacks to wear instead of a skirt. Nevertheless he felt relaxed and conversation flowed freely. While they were dawdling over a final cup of coffee at the breakfast table, Jane suddenly asked, "Aren't you going to take your pill?" "What pill?" "The pill, silly. I saw the package in your purse." "Oh, that pill. The doctor prescribes them for my cramps." "Of course! But don't forget." Bob took the small package from his purse, held it under the table while he punched free the next tiny tablet, popped the pill in his mouth, and took a drink of water. "Thank you for reminding me." To himself he thought, "Oh well, the doctor said it wouldn't hurt me." He was to find himself thinking the same thing