Lashes
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Lashes Chapter 6 free porn video
Chapter 6
Mrs. Meyer was able to get an appointment with Cindy's photographer the
very next day. I don't know who was more nervous, Mom, Mrs. Meyer, or me.
Cindy seemed to be taking everything in stride.
"No big thing," she said.
Well actually it was a big thing. First off, the photographer is in
Sacramento, which meant an hour drive from Colfax. Next was the
preparation. Eleven or twelve was when little girls start to shave and I
was no exception. What little hair I had on my legs and underarms had to
go, so Mom did the honors that night when we got home.
"Honey, I'm going to show you how to do this, but from now on you'll have
to do it yourself. It's kind of an initiation into womanhood," she
laughed.
Mom had been going through some very severe mood swings the last few
days. She seemed to embrace anything Amanda one minute, and the next
would cry for no reason. I knew I was the cause of it, but was powerless
to do anything about it, other than put Amanda away forever, and what
good would that do since we already had the contract and my ticket to
Stanford.
She finished with my legs and washed off the excess shaving jell. After
my underarms were done she handed me a towel and asked me to dry myself
off. I had never noticed the feelings on my legs before and the
smoothness of my skin.
"Mom, my legs feel so smooth."
"They feel nice, don't they?"
"Yes."
"I want you to rub baby oil on them so they stay soft. If they dry out
you won't like the way they feel."
Putting the oil on freshly shaved legs was another experience that
brought Amanda more to the front and shoved poor, Mark, farther away in
the battle to win my heart. My fears were taking root and I wasn't sure
of how I could handle what was happening to me.
I've always loved being a boy; the rough housing and messing around with
my friends was something I looked forward to every day. My time spent
with Cindy, was always special because I became like another person, but
I was still, Mark. Cindy would call me her girlfriend, and sometimes I
felt that way, but we both knew I was still, Mark. Now things had changed
as Amanda, made herself known. I think if Mom had named me, even the same
name as I have now I might feel different about what was happening to me.
I would still be Mark, a boy with a pretty face and a name my mother gave
me so I could work as a girl. She would have chosen everything; even the
clothes we bought tonight would have been a masquerade for the job. There
would have been no connection to Amanda, other than being her for a job.
When I named Amanda, or I should say when I renamed myself, something
happened to me. I had essentially told myself that I was now female. It
was a decision I had made for myself. I could have chosen any name I
wanted, but I wanted it to be special. I didn't want Mary, or Tiffany, or
any other host of names I could have chosen, I wanted Amanda, and I
wanted her to be feminine. I could have used my real last name, James,
like the outlaw, but I wanted more from her, hence Flowers. How much more
feminine could a name get than Amanda Flowers. By naming myself Amanda
Flowers, I was telling my body it was now feminine and it was my choice,
and I loved it. I wondered how much longer I could reconcile myself to
being Mark James? I was becoming a very seriously fucked up boy.
I went to bed early so I wouldn't be tired when I went to the shoot. I
had problems sleeping. I kept thinking of Amanda, and my feelings for her
and the shame I was bring on my parents, especially Dad. I have always
been a strong boy; just ask any of the bullies in school. They don't mess
with Mark James, because he'll kick your ass, and as much as Mom
complained, I'm sure Dad loved the way I protected myself. How could I
justify that kind of behavior from Amanda? Girls don't act that way.
Girls turn to boys like Mark, for protection. Maybe I'm reading too much
into this adventure. I've been so caught up in being Amanda, that I think
I'm turning into a girl. Perhaps I should just go with the flow, but as,
Mark, dressed as Amanda and stop trying to actually be Amanda. That was
it; I'd be a boy dressing as a girl and tell Cindy I was her best friend,
her boy friend. Sleep came quickly after I reconciled myself to being a
boy,.
"I'm home," I shouted as I walked into the house after school.
"Hurry up and get ready. We have to leave with Gloria and Cindy for your
photo shoot, I'm in your room."
I went to my room and saw Mom had laid Amanda's clothes out on the bed.
"What do you want to wear?" she asked.
"What I have on," I said.
"No, that wouldn't be a good idea. Remember, you're supposed to be a girl
for these shoots and girls like you don't wear boy's clothes to photo
shoots."
As much as I hated to admit it, I felt a stirring of excitement as Amanda
pushed the boy part of me aside. I had gone out of my way today to be the
best Mark I could be. I stared down the bullies, played football with my
friends and played my boy part to the extreme. No one, not even Cindy
mistook me for Amanda, I was one hundred percent Mark, well make that
ninety-nine percent, I loved the way my legs felt, so very feminine.
Now as I stared at the clothing, I could feel Amanda, making herself
known. Why did I feel this way? I'm not a girl so why do I allow Amanda,
to easily push Mark aside? I couldn't admit the obvious; it would hurt my
parents too much. I know if I try hard enough I can put Amanda away and
let Mark enjoy the rest of his life.
"Well, what do you want to wear?" Mom asked.
"I don't know, anything I guess."
"Honey, girls never wear, just anything, they co-ordinate. Everything
goes with each other. See your dress?"
"Yes."
Those shoes go with it, not the canvas ones that go with your jeans.
Don't worry sweetheart, you'll learn soon enough."
"Why, I'm a boy?"
"My, don't we have an attitude? Mark, when we started this thing, it was
as if you were a different person. You should have seen the excitement in
your eyes. Your father and I were very concerned that this thing would
lead to you being a girl, but I can see I was wrong. Look, if you don't
want to do this then we'll tear up the contract and I'll give these
clothes a way. To be perfectly honest, I'd prefer that you not do this
girl thing."
I didn't know how to respond? On one hand I was pleasing my mom by acting
as if I didn't want to be Amanda, again. On the other, my stomach dropped
at the thought of sending Amanda away. As hard as I was trying I couldn't
stop loving her, or me I guess. The most important thing a person can do
is respect themselves and be happy with who they are, my dad said so. Be
yourself whom ever that is, he said. Don't let anyone tell you that
you're not important, because you are, just being yourself. I was so
confused being Amanda, was so wrong and yet I wanted to be her so badly.
I should have never named myself, never embraced her, never torn myself
apart trying to be both a boy and girl.
I picked my jeans and a cute blouse that went with them. On went my white
canvass shoes with no socks.
Cindy and I sat in the back of Mrs. Meyer's van and Mom rode shotgun. I
had a sullen look on my face that wasn't missed by Cindy.
"What's wrong, Amanda?"
"Nothing and I'm not Amanda, I'm Mark."
"Whoa, what brought this on? I noticed you were acting different at
school today."
"Nothing brought it on, I'm a boy and boys are named Mark, not Amanda."
Cindy giggled and said, "From the look of things, I do believe Mark has
left the building."
Besides the clothing I was wearing, I was wearing the short wig and my
eyes were made up with mascara and a little shadow. My lips glistened
with pink gloss. When I saw myself in the mirror, I couldn't believe how
pretty I looked. Amanda pulled and shoved to try to make herself known,
but Mark wouldn't let her, as hard as she tried. Mark just tried harder."
"It's just a costume."
"Just a costume? What happened to my girlfriend?"
"Your girlfriend " I said, making quote marks with my fingers, "is really
a boy, but I'm sure you didn't miss that fact."
Cindy reached across my body and grabbed my shoulders, turning me to face
her.
"God Amanda, what happened to you? You're my dearest friend and you're
acting like a little bitch and I want to know why?"
I stared at Cindy and finally everything that had happened to me came to
a head. My eyes filled with tears and ran down my cheeks as I realized
how shameful I was acting.
"I'm so afraid."
The look of concern from Cindy just made me cry harder. Mom hadn't
noticed my distress, as she and Mrs. Meyer were deep in conversation.
"Sweetie, what are you so afraid of?"
"Me, Amanda, both of us."
"Why would you be afraid?"
"I'm afraid I'll become Amanda for real."
"What's so wrong with that? You're a beautiful girl."
"That's the point, I'm not a girl, and I'm a boy."
"Are you really? Are you sure you're not really a girl with a plumbing
problem?"
"Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're my best friend. I've known you forever and I've never
thought of you as being a boy. Why do you think you're my best
girlfriend? Amanda, you are just being you now. It took something like
discovering the game you played with your mom to make you realize you're
a girl. I know you have a reputation for being tough, but being a boy
doesn't make you that way. Standing up to bullies does and a girl can do
that too, you just don't realize it yet. When we're together you couldn't
be more feminine if you tried. Being feminine isn't the way you move or
talk or any of the things girls do on the outside, it's what's here,"
Cindy said, pointing at her heart.
"That's why you're having a conflict with yourself. You think just
because you're supposed to be a boy, because you look like a boy, you
can't be a girl, well, you're wrong. You're a girl Amanda, through and
through, you just haven't seen it yet, but you will."
My tears had ceased and of course my makeup was ruined and Cindy was
right, I was thinking like a girl, after-all what boy would worry about
his makeup?
Was Cindy right, have I been a girl all along? I tried to think of when I
was with Cindy and how we talked to each other. We shared everything,
every moment of my life was hers and hers mine. She had started her
puberty and I was the first person she told about her period, not her
girl friends, but me, Mark. We cried together and laughed together,
hugged each other until we couldn't breathe. It all seemed so natural to
be the way I was. I think the thing I never saw was that I had been
Amanda all along and never realized it. If I was to accept Amanda, then
what will happen to Mark? How would my parents react to having a daughter
all the time, not just for a few photo shoots? Will they still love me,
or will they try to make me someone I'm not?
"Cindy, just wishing doesn't change the fact that I'm a boy, nothing can
change that, and besides my parents would never put up with me being a
girl. Mom already said she wished I wasn't doing this."
"But things can be done to change you into a girl. Haven't you ever heard
of that girl named Jazz?"
"The one that told her parents she was a girl when she was a little boy,
the one on TV?"
"Yes, she's the one. You could do the same thing as her, be who you
really are. You could become Amanda."
"But I like being, Mark," I whined.
"Do you? Can you honestly tell me you'd rather be Mark, than Amanda?"
"But I don't know anything about Amanda."
"You know that you love being her."
"How do I know that the only reason I like being her is because it's so
new?"
"Because you've been Amanda for years. You just didn't see it."
"I haven't Cindy, I've always been a boy."
"Fine, be that way, but don't tell me I didn't warn you when you're so
unhappy you can't stand it. You're my best friend and I'll always be here
for you, but don't wait too long or you might really turn into a boy and
if that happens, well never mind, it's not important," she said and got a
sad look on her face. She looked as though she had just lost her best
friend.
We arrived at the studio for the session and exited the van. Mom looked
at me and I saw the concern in her expression.
"Have you been crying," she asked, touching my cheek with her fingers.
"It's okay now," I replied, glancing at Cindy.
"If you don't want to do this, we can go home. I'm not forcing you to do
anything you don't want to do," Mom said, the determination evident in
her voice.
"No Mom, please, I want this, please?"
"If you're sure. I won't have my baby pushed into something he doesn't
want to do," Mom said, looking at Gloria.
"Mom, my tears had nothing to do with Mrs. Meyer. Can we just forget it,
please?"
"Alright, but I won't forget about it. I'll want to talk to you later
about what you're doing. I'm not mad at you sweetheart, just concerned
about what's going on up here." Mom said, pointing at her head. "Now
let's get your makeup repaired so you don't scare the poor photographer,"
she giggled.
Mom's laughter made me relax while Mrs. Meyer repaired the damage I had
incurred.
We entered the studio and were greeted by a handsome man with an alarming
smile. He was about six feet tall about one hundred sixty pounds, a short
hairstyle with a small amount of grey indicating his late forties, age.
His blue eyes danced with merriment, and his smile exposed perfect white
teeth. His light blue dress shirt had the top two buttons undone showing
a tanned chest. The shirt was tucked into designer jeans ending a half of
an inch above his sockless feet wearing leather loafers.
"Gloria, Cindy, so nice to see you again," he gushed, which probably had
as much to do with the extra fee he was charging, as seeing Gloria again.
"Bob, this is Rachel James and her daughter, Amanda. Girls, this is Bob
Quinlan, my favorite Photographer in the whole world," she flirted, in
that worldly show business sort of way.
"I can see where Amanda gets her beauty from, Rachel, it's nice to meet
you," he said, taking Mom's hand in his.
Mom shifted uncomfortably, knowing his beauty remark was so much
bullshit, but I wondered if it also had to do with his comment about her
daughter? I would find out when we talked.
"Okay ladies, let's get this show on the road," Bob commanded.
We followed him into the photo studio while Gloria double-checked my
makeup.
"Come over here Amanda, and stand right here so I can get my settings
right. You're much too pretty to be blurry in your pictures."
I stood in front of a screen while Bob went to his camera mounted on a
tripod. He fiddled with several settings and declared he was ready to
start.
I won't bore you with the details of every photo, but I'll explain what
we did.
I started with the clothes I had on, the jeans and casual blouse. My
makeup was just as it was when we arrived at the studio. Bob had me
posing for what seemed like a hundred photos. He shot me just standing
and then different poses. Next came close-ups of my face, laughing,
smiling, pouting, looking sad, all the while Bob gave me instructions. I
grew to like him very much as I learned; I grew used to his corny banter.
The next grouping was with me wearing a skirt and blouse. I obviously
changed my shoes to a pair of cute sandals. The heel was about a half of
an inch tall. My skirt, the denim one, ended at mid thigh, showing a lot
of my legs. My blouse had a scoop neck to show my pretty neck and
shoulders. Mrs. Meyer changed my makeup to make me look a little older. I
like the look, but couldn't help seeing the frown on my mother's face. We
did the same as with the jeans, full body close-ups and face.
The last grouping was with me in my dress. The dress was a beautiful
crochet shift dress that was the only splurge when we went shopping. Even
my mother loved how it looked on me. I had to wear a short slip so
nothing that wasn't supposed to be seen, was. It had wispy sleeves that
went just past my elbows and the hem stopped above mid thigh. It was very
sexy and very flirty, and I loved it. My shoes were the white pumps with
the taller heel, all of one inch, which completed the look.
Gloria changed my makeup again, which made me look very pretty and much
older. I thought my mother was going to cry.
Bob spent more time with this look and by the time he finished I was
bushed. Even as tired as I was I was also disturbed by the feelings I was
having wearing this dress. It was so feminine and so soft feeling, so un
Mark like, so much the way Amanda, would feel that I wanted to hug Cindy
in the worst way. It was then that I knew what she had been saying to me,
I really was a girl.
"Well, I'm finished," Bob, announced. "Amanda, you were a dream to work
with and I'll be sure to note that in your portfolio. You followed my
instructions perfectly and I'm sure I'll want to include every photo I
took, but you're not strong enough to carry all those pictures."
"Thank you so much, Bob. When do you think you'll be able to put the
portfolio together?" Gloria asked.
"I'll have it to you next week. Normally I'd take two weeks but you're
special Gloria, it'll be ready Tuesday."
"Thanks Bob, that's why I love you so much. See you Tuesday. You can
change now, Amanda."
I didn't want to change. I loved this dress and the way it made me feel.
"Would it be okay if I wore it home?"
I saw the trickle of a smile cross Cindy's lips, she knew.
"Alright, just be careful with it," Mom said,
We left the studio and entered the van. Mrs. Meyer had tried to engage my
mother in conversation, but she seemed to be distracted.
"What's wrong Rachel, did I do something wrong?" Gloria asked.
"No, it isn't anything you did, I just wasn't ready to see how beautiful
Amanda was. You have to remember that you've had twelve years living with
Cindy and I've only had a few hours with a daughter, and to be honest,
I'm not sure if I like it."
"Rachel, we discussed this before any contracts were signed. You knew
things might be difficult?"
"I know Gloria, and I'm certainly not blaming you, but I worry what this
might do to Mark. He's so pretty and there seems to be a change in him.
It's as though he really is Amanda Flowers, and it scares the devil out
of me. I love my son, faults and all."
"Oh I'm sure you're over reacting. She's just excited about the shoot.
Mark will be back tomorrow and you'll probably wish you had your daughter
back," Gloria laughed.
"I hope so."
Cindy and I listened intently to the conversation and turned toward me
after it was over.
"You did it, didn't you?" she asked, with a hopeful gleam in her eye.
"Did what?" I asked, innocently.
"Crossed over, you're a girl now, aren't you?"
My head fell shamefully as I stared at my bare legs, the hem of the dress
so flatteringly feminine, caressing them with every movement of the van.
How could I admit that Cindy was right, I had crossed over with all my
heart and soul? I felt as though I had ripped the heart out of my
mother's chest and smashed it with a club as I turned to face Cindy.
"Yes, and I don't know what I'm going to do?"
"I'll help you, don't worry, I'll always be here for you."
Cindy hugged once more as a tear ran from my eye.
Arriving home, Mom and I went into the house. Mrs. Meyer said I could
keep the wig until tomorrow.
"Wait in the living room Mark, I want your father to see you," Mom said,
walking to the family room in the rear of the house.
There had been no emotion in Mom's voice, just a matter of fact that made
me uneasy as I sat on the sofa. That feeling grew as I heard my parent's
steps come from the hallway. My mother and father entered the room. Both
parents looked very unhappy with my appearance.
"Lance, I was going to say something stupid like meet your daughter, but
I can't bring myself to do that. Your son is so pretty and if he was a
real girl, I'd be so proud of her for what she's doing, but I can't. I
love our son so much and this; this girl thing is making me sick. If I
had known I would have never allowed it."
Dad put his arm around Mom's shoulder and pulled her tight to him. There
was sadness in his eyes as he looked at me.
"Mark, your mother is right, you're a beautiful girl, and as a man and
father, I know you would break many a boy's heart, but you're not a girl,
your our son. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I know going to
Stanford is important to you, but I don't know if this is the way to do
it? We aren't angry with you, just the opposite, but you must know how we
feel right now. I know we signed the contract for this, but I can say for
your mother and myself that we didn't think you would become such a
beauty and we're concerned for what this might do to you. You're playing
with fire even if you don't know it. How do you feel about what you're
doing?"
How do I feel? God, what a question to ask. I feel like a girl, or maybe
I should say I am a girl. Why do you think I wore this dress home? If I
could, I would never take it off, that's how special it makes me feel.
"I like it Dad. It's fun, kind of like dressing up for Halloween."
"Maybe that's the case, but you don't look like a boy wearing a costume,
you look like a girl off the pages of a magazine."
"I know Dad, but its just part of the job, and that's how I'm supposed to
look."
"Honey, I mean Mark, why don't you go change. Your appearance is really
upsetting your mother," Dad said, with a calm voice, which surprised me
as I expected him to shout or react differently. My father is really
special. If I could have, I would have run to him and given him the
biggest hug in the world.
"Yes Dad."
I rose and walked to my room as both sets of eyes followed me.
"He walks just like a girl, God Rachel, I hope this is just a phase he's
going through or part of the costume as he calls it. If this girl thing
doesn't go away, I don't know what we're going to do."
"He only has six months before the option takes effect. Maybe he'll tire
of this nonsense and we can put this away. I want my son back."
I closed the door when I entered my room. Looking in the mirror at the
stunning girl looking back, I knew what Mom and Dad wished, wasn't going
to happen, my creation, Amanda Flowers, was now a part of me that I would
never be able to destroy. It would be like suicide to make her go away. I
ran my hands down my dress until my fingers reached my shaved legs and
knew what I had to do. I had to become Amanda.
I removed the wig, changed into my boy clothes and removed my makeup in
my bathroom. There was still a trace of mascara, but I was now my
mother's beautiful boy once again.
I walked back to the living room where Mom and Dad were having a drink.
Mom smiled when she saw me, her boy was back. Then something strange
happened, a wistful expression crossed her face, it was just for a
second, but it was something I noticed. It was as though she had lost
something and wanted it back.
"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry."
"Mark, you don't have anything to be sorry for. Love is unconditional and
no matter how you look, you'll always be our child. No, make your mother
feel better and give her a hug."
I ran to my mother and wrapped my arms around her as she did to me. A
tear ran from my eye, I love my parents so much.
The next day Cindy and I did our homework together as we usually did.
We'd study, talk, and study again. There was nothing different about our
conversation as it covered the usual subjects, fashions, who liked who,
who Cindy liked this week and so forth. When we finished Cindy brought up
the one thing I didn't want to talk about, Amanda.
"Wasn't that fun last night?" she asked.
"What?"
"Oh come on Mark, you know what, your photo session."
"I guess."
"You guess? God girl I thought you'd bust with excitement, especially
when you wore your dress."
"I don't want to talk about it?"
"What? Why not?"
"I just don't."
"Something happened when you got home, didn't it. It's your parents, they
don't like what you're doing," Cindy stated.
"Oh, Cindy, you don't know what it was like, "I said, as I burst into
tears.
"Oh God, what happened?"
"My mother would hardly talk to me and then she went and got my father.
He said I didn't have to do this after six months and they would rather I
don't. He said I was pretty and my mother said she would have been so
proud of me if I were a girl. I am a girl Cindy, I am. I felt so pretty
in my dress, so much like Amanda that I never wanted to take my dress
off. What am I going to do? I have to be Amanda, Cindy, I have to, or
I'll die."
Cindy held me until the tears stopped. I knew boys didn't cry like I was,
but I couldn't help myself, my world felt so wrong.
"Everything will be okay, just wait and see. You still have almost six
months until your contract has to be renewed and who knows what might
happen between now and then?"
"And what happens if my parents don't renew the contract, then what. I'll
have to be a boy."
"You'll never have to be a boy again, even if you don't have a contract.
Being a girl is in here," she said pointing at her head, "and here,"
pointing at her heart. "We've been best friends for years and all I've
ever seen is a girl, even when you beat up Frank. A boy didn't do that, a
girl did."
I smiled and said, "You're the best friend I could ever have. I love you,
Cindy"
"And I love you, Amanda."
I felt better and returned home. I was tired and needed sleep.
Makenna
- 03.06.2021
- 8
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