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Another Punishment By Cassandra Morgan Mary Jane Williams dropped her telephone and stormed through her house with nowhere to go. She wasn't a kicker, or the cat would have been at risk. She wasn't a plate-thrower, or she would have gone thought a place-setting for four. But she was a pacer, and so Mary Jane stalked through her house, from room to room, as if to try to escape her problems. Or, to be precise, her problem. Mikey. Damn it. Couldn't she get one good kid? Just one? Was she that lousy as a mother? Was it this stupid town? Was it Jerry, her ex-husband? Did he have lousy DNA? Gregory had aged her 20 years with his shenanigans. And now Mikey. What is it about teenagers? They had both been pretty good pre-teens, sweet and attentive and fun. But then nature's chemicals began to course through their bloodstreams, and they became young thugs at large. Smoking? Stealing? Cheating? Vandalism? Bullying? Fighting? Swearing? You could write down a "things I don't want my teenager to do" list, and Greg and Mikey would have done every one of them. They were Huns. They were Mongols. They were trouble. Damn it. She should have known that Mikey would stray eventually. Greg certainly had. But they had straightened Greg out, hadn't they? He was a sweet young man these days. He worked at the church for free. He volunteered with Homes for Humanity. He was a great student. He was a polite kid. Everyone loved Greg. These days. Ah, but that was now. Greg had had his leather-jacket days, when he hung around the bowling alley terrorizing the younger kids and smoking pot. But she had fixed him. It wasn't an easy punishment to mete out, but because of it, she knew she had given him a second chance. And now it was Mikey's turn. Mary Jane brought a chair to her bedroom closet. She stood on it and pulled a black suitcase from the top shelf. It was dusty, ignored. She sighed. She opened the unlocked snaps. And there they were. Greg's old dresses. * * Petticoat punishment is one of the last stages a mother accepts. Hell, you spend a lot of your time hoping your sons don't gravitate to them naturally. But to intentionally put someone you love in discomfort is not a mother's inclination. To invite the world to laugh at him wasn't a good thing. To pull this off, a woman had to be committed to it. No matter how the boy cried, no matter how he pleaded. she had to stick to her guns. On those days that the demon boy came back out, you had to be strong. On those days that the little princess took over, you had to be resolute. Greg had taught her that. Mary Jane fingered the clothes in memory. The black dress. The blue summer dress -- Gwen was gorgeous in that one. The maid's uniform. The panties and the bras and the blond wig. One pair of red pumps. The breast forms. Greg -- Gwen --had looked so cute wearing them. When her mother had first suggested them -- four years ago now -- she thought she was crazy. Mary Jane had argued with her then, that she was inviting her children to be gay. She didn't have a problem with gay people, but hell, do you want to send invitations to the Pretty Party? Do you want to defy their natures? But her mother was a psychiatrist. Surely, there was some method to her madness. Sure enough, eventually it had worked. Greg was stunned at first that his mother would put him into panties, that she would make him wear a dress to school. But as clothing went, it was a tranquilizer. Instead of mighty, he became meek. Instead of rude, he became reserved. Instead of petulant, he became ... pretty. Mary Jane remembered the way had Gwen had looked wearing a yellow dress, standing in the garden, smelling a flower. She was delicate and feminine, pretty. To Mary Jane, part of Greg would always be the girl in that picture. It hadn't started that way. She remembered tossing a bra at him and hissing that his name was now Gwen. "No," he had said. "I won't do it. No way." "I'm afraid you will." "I'll run away," he had threatened. "You can't stop me. I'll go live with Dad." "No," she said. "I probably can't stop you. I can't shackle you to the bed. But you know your Dad has another family now. He won't let you stay. And I'm pleading with you to give this a chance. I've read up on it. It works sometimes." "Sometimes?" he had snarled. "Nothing is guaranteed," she had said. "But petticoat punishment is centuries old, Greg...Gwen. You have to understand I'm at the end of my rope. I don't want to see you in prison. I'd rather see you in a dress."" "I'm not going to go to prison, Mom." "Please," she said, sobbing. "Do this for me. I'm out of places to turn." Mary Jane had cried, and Greg had felt something stir inside him. His mother wanted the best for him. That's all. He had reached out and touched her shoulder. He had nodded. "For you," he finally said. "I'll try it." And he did. He showed up at school in a pink dress and heels, and the other kids had giggled and made jokes. About his makeup. About his breasts. About hose. "Hey RuPaul," some boy had said. "Can I play with your tits?" "Yeah," another boy said. "Just toss them over here.' We'll give 'em back." "It's okay," a sophomore girl had said. "My brother's a fag, too. I can give him your number if you want." "Woo-hoo. It's Miss America!" "Nice lipstick. Do you kiss dicks with those lips?" And so it went. There was something about a boy in a dress that offended the macho kids. There was something about a sissy that brought out disdain in biological girls. Boys acted like they were trying to look up his skirt to embarrass him. Girls offered him ribbons to wear in his hair. A geometry teacher asked him if he would like to get coffee. A girl asked him where he got his heels. A boy told him that he, too, liked to dressed as a girl. And on and on. It was relentless. Soon enough, his friends stopped inviting him to their midnight gatherings at the Sonic. They even stopped talking to him in the hall. When they cut class to smoke and eat pizza, he wasn't invited. He was a joke, a punchline, a waste of a good skirt. He was Gorgeous Gay Gwen. He was the girly boy, to be shunned, to be scoffed at. His classmates forgot that he was being forced into wearing girls' clothing; to them, he was just the class transvestite. The girls snickered and complimented his dresses. The boys laughed and acted as if they were flirting with him. Everyone was having a grand time ... except for Gwen. But, slowly, too slowly, Gwen had changed. He did his housework, and he did his homework. He volunteered as a Big Sister. He had a poster of a boy band on his wall. "It's just because I like the music," he said. "It's cause you want to kiss them," his younger brother Mikey said. "Shut up, or I'll put you a dress," Gwen snarled. "Gwen likes being a girl!" Mikey would sing. "Gwen wants to be pretty!" He was broken. He would sit and watch whatever was on the television. He would cry himself to sleep. He got up in the morning, and he showered, and he put on panties. No one had to order him to any more. He was at home in a dress. He liked doing his hair. Inch by inch, he eased into being Gwen. He tolerated the dresses, even liked them (if you put his hand on the Bible). He worked hard to get his makeup right. He wore heels almost every day. A soundtrack of the Williams' household became Gwen walking through the halls, her skirts swishing as he moved. The memory of his transformation made Mary Jane smile. It couldn't have been easy. The other kids had to have been difficult. Blue Ridge, Ohio, was a one-school town, and Gwen had gone to school with her classmates her entire life. Now, for all intents and purposes, he was a she. Mary Jane could still remember his first day at school, how Gwen had pleaded not to go, how she had begged not to wear her pink dress. But she had pulled up her panties, and she had wrapped her bra around her chest, and she had gone, and she had endured the taunts. And the second week was easier. And the third was easier still. By the fourth, no one asked about Greg anymore. Perhaps there had been a part of Gwen inside of Greg all along. She moved like a girl. She sounded like a girl. She smelled like a girl. Even the bullies got tired of picking on her. She was just another chick in the shadows. And she adapted. No one had to force Gwen to shave her legs. She did that on her own. No one had to threaten her to wear makeup. She wanted to fit in as best she could. She grew her hair out, and she painted her nails, and she did her chores. Maybe it was the clothes, or society's pushing Gwen toward a more docile nature. Maybe it was her friends. Jake and Brick and Tony were gone now. Gwen hung out with Jenny and Beth and Stacy, good girls whose wild sides were under control. There were times -- many of them -- when Mary Jane was sure that Gwen would remain her daughter. She seemed at ease in her dresses, and she even had a prom date with Scottie Jenson when she was a junior. She had been scared to death that night, but she had been so pretty. Mary Jane had lost her own virginity on prom night; she wondered if Gwen had, as well. But mothers weren't allowed such thoughts, were they? And then, Gwen's psychologist had suggested that Greg should return for his senior year of high school. Once again, the change of lifestyles had terrified Greg. But his classmates all knew of his punishment. Why, Gwen wasn't ... one of those, but a boy who'd had girldom forced upon her. Now, he was one of them again. Granted, Mikey always suggested that he missed the old rambunctious Greg, the Greg that didn't take guff from anyone. Mikey always swore that inside, Greg's soul was still wearing petticoats, that he was still more likely to end up as a bride than a groom. But that was just a little brother giving grief to an older one. Mary Jane shook her head. She didn't want to admit it, but she missed Gwen. She missed having a daughter to compare purses and shop for skirts with. Now, she was going to have another one. * * * Mikey Williams was too cool for school. He flopped on a desk, almost daring Principal Joe Strummer to punish him. What were they going to do? Kick him out of class? Hell, he didn't go anyway. "So, Joe. What's up with the Clash these days. Nice name you have there. Was John Lennon taken?" "I've heard the jokes before, Mikey," Strummer sighed. "Every 16-year- old thinks he's the first comedian who ever noticed my name." "Whatever. Rock the Casbah," Mikey said, picking at his fingernails with a pocketknife. "Your mother will be here shortly to pick you up, Mikey." "Oh. Okay. Fine. Maybe she'll send me to bed without din-din." Strummer shook his head. These kids all thought they were so tough, so cool, so unaffected.But Mikey was their leader. He was the one who decided if they were going to kick over trash cans, or spray-paint the cafeteria, or beat up a weaker kid. The gang? They were just mindless followers. Mikey was the one who had the ideas, which made him dangerous. On the path he was on, he would end up hurting someone. Strummer knew the kind. He would end up raking a tin cup across his cell bars. Mary Jane Williams rushed into office, apologizing as she moved. Mikey wasn't a bad kid, he just had bad friends, and his energy ran away with him, and .... She stopped talking. "He is the bad kid, isn't he?" she said quietly. "He's the ringleader," Strummer said. "The other goofballs follow his ideas. He's the leader of this pack of hyenas." "Well, we'll stop that. Same as before?" "That's your call, Mrs. Williams. We'll support you however we can." "I didn't want to do this again," she said. "It was too hard the first time." "I assume it was," Strummer said. "It's not natural, a boy turning into a girl," she said. "It's their fault, Mary Jane. It's not yours." "I hate this." "I know." "But it must be done, mustn't it?" Mary Jane gathered herself. "No matter how I try to find another way, the petticoats have to come out, don't they?" Strummer frowned. He looked at the snide little shit. He nodded. "It would be for the best, I think," he said. "Then it will be done," she said. "Mikey will be a girl by Monday." Strummer winced, as if his own penis was being shrunk. The thought of emasculating a boy was regrettable. Hell, some kids never got over it. They were women for the rest of their lives. Strummer wouldn't wish that on anyone Then he looked at Mikey, who was playing with Strummer's watch, stretching the band, spinning it around on his finger. Somehow, the damn kid had stolen it right off of his wrist. Fuck him. Let the little asshole wear a dress. * * Mary Jane stood in her bedroom, in front of all of Greg's old clothes, picking up each one and explaining to Mikey when they were to be worn. Finally, Mikey understood the depth of his transgressions. He was going to undergo the same punishment that his brother had four years ago. He was going to be put in dresses and unleashed on the world. But he still had a bit of rebel in him. "You think you're going to scare me with skirts?" he said to his mother, defiantly. "Like you did Greg?" "This isn't about scaring you," Mary Jane said. "This is about you adjusting your behavior." "Girls can be wild, too," Mike said. "You'll make me be the baddest bitch at Bush High School. You ever want a dyke for a daughter?" "It doesn't matter to me," Mary Jane said. "I don't care if you're a lesbian. Just be a nice girl." "Greg was a pussy even before you put him a dress," Mikey said. "I'm tougher than Greg was." Greg blinked at him. "Mikey, this isn't about being tough," Greg said. "I tried to be tough, too. You're whistling through a graveyard, bro. This will go better if you act nicer. Trust someone who has worn the heels.." "Tell me, Greg," Mike snarled. "Do you miss it? Do you miss putting on your panties everyday and dancing against Scottie? Rubbing his dick? Kissing it?" "Mikey!" Mary Jane interrupted. "What?" Mike replied. "Greg surrendered, Mom. He was ready to marry Scottie and be his wife. They fucked. Your son sucked a guy's dic, Mom. Just ask him. He'll tell you." Mary Jane blushed. She hesitated, the said: "This isn't about Gwen...Greg, I mean. This is about you." "Fine. My boxers are kind of rough on the family jewels anyway. I could use something softer." "You'll get it. Forever, maybe. Now, Mikey....Melissa. Let's get dressed and get ready for dinner." Mikey sighed. He stood up. He picked up a pair of panties, pink with ruffles. "I could use these to play football in," he said. "They'd be soft for the quarterback if you're hiking the ball. I hope he has warm hands." "Oh, be nice." "And that bra. We could use it as a net for the ping pong table." "Be funny all you want. You're going to wear these clothes, Melissa. I have a headache from dealing with you." "Do you want me to marry a man, Mom? Is that what this is about? Do you want a son-in-law inside of my ass?" Mary Jane smiled at him. "Shave your legs, Melissa. We're ordering Chinese food tonight. I expect you to be in a dress and heels." "Yes, Mistress," Mikey sneered. Mary Jane walked out of the room. She shook her head. This one was going to be tough. This one was going to be a wild bronco, bucking like crazy, fighting the bit at every turn. Alone, Melissa shaved her legs. She put on her lingerie. She pulled the red dress over her head. She half-turned to her left, then her right, so the dress billowed around her legs. She dabbed on her lipstick. She looked at the mirror. And she did the darnedest thing. She smiled. * * Monday mornings are never fun at Bush High School. For Melissa, this one was especially awkward. She walked into the front doors of the high school, and every head turned toward her. She was wearing a simple white dress and a pink sweater. Her hair was in curls, framing her face. It was a tie whether her red lipstick or black mascara grabbed more attention. She looked ... natural. She moved gracefully, as if she had been a girl all of her life. There was nothing male about her. She lowered her head as she walked through the gauntlet in front of the school. Oh, there were comments, sure. But not as many as you might think. Everyone had heard about Gwen, the boy-girl from years past. Now, Mikey was Melissa, and the school administrators were pleading that there shouldn't be an incident. Her heels clacked as she walked down the hall. She looked at Lance Sonnet and she nodded. He turned away. She smiled at George Bethel. He turned, too. So this was how it was going to be? He was wearing cloth of a different cut, shaped into a dress, and people were acting as if he were a leper. It's amazing how a little cloth changed everything. A girl she didn't know, Joy Underwood, walked up to her. "Go, girl," she said. "I think it's very brave, what you're doing. I was at the Gay Pride parade last month." "I'm not gay," he said. "My mother is making me do this." Joy paused. "Really? What does your dad say?" "My parents are divorced. He lives in Michigan." "Why don't you just live with him?" "He has a new family." "Well, I'm glad you're a girl. You look wonderful. Welcome to Bush High." Melissa didn't offer that she'd been a student here for two years. She just offered a weak smile and went on her way. At least Joy had tried to be nice. He turned the corner to get to English class, and a very tall, very black teenager glared at him. Raheem Jackson. "We gotta talk," he said. Melissa nodded. He went down the hall, with Melissa following. He looked twice, then stepped into a supply closet. Melissa followed him. And damned if Raheem didn't lean down and kiss him right on the lips. Melissa smiled and kissed him back. "Morning, baby," she said. "Everything go okay?" "Perfect. My mother fell for the hoodlum act just like we thought. She's so predictable I knew she'd go back to the same petticoat punishment she put Greg through." "So you fooled her?" "Totally. She thinks I'm another juvie who has to be saved from prison. So she put me in skirts, which is just where I want to be. I'm being disciplined to do exactly what I want." "You're pretty smart. Pretty mean, too. Maybe this punishment will last forever." "I plan on it. Every time she starts to release me from it, she'll find pot or pills or pictures of naked basketball players. Just something to keep me like this." Raheem kissed her again. He ran his hand down her sides and cupped her ass. "Don't forget." Melissa said. "You have to give me shit, too. You have to treat me like I offend your very eyesight." "So I don't get my blowjob?" "Not for a while, stallion. Just be patient. The game is afoot." "A foot? I'm big, but I'm not a foot." "No. It's something in the old movies. Sherlock Holmes, I think. Or Dragnet." "Sherlock Holmes?" "Never mind." "I always liked you as a girl. Even when you'd come over and wear Olivia's clothes. You were so hot." "I love Olivia. I love you." "And now you're my girl." "Forever and a day." * * Melissa moved through the halls, her red dress bouncing as she moved. Around her, there was more pity than scorn. Greg was gone from the high school before these students arrived, but they'd heard the legend of a mom who got so pissed she put her son in skirts and let the world laugh. The staff all remembered Greg too, how he'd gone from hellcat to humbled, from badass to bimbo. Algebra went smoothly enough. Someone said something in Spanish class -- puta. Sociology was lively with a boy in panties. At lunch, Melissa sat on a bench by herself. It was the worst time of the day. She was more aware of her hose, of her makeup, of her bra straps. Toward the end of lunch, she was summoned to see Mr. Strummer in his office. "Hello, Mr. Jagger," Melissa offered. "Funny girl," Strummer said. "We need to talk. I'm asking Mrs. Ferguson to sit in, if you don't mind." "Afraid I'll beat you up, Mr. Townsend?" "No. But just in case the school is liable, we tape all conversations." Melissa made a mental note of that. She would have to be careful in talking to Mr. Strummer. "Mikey...I mean, Melissa. I would imagine the school could be a lonely place for a ... crossdresser," Strummer began. "Everyone would be afraid to be your friend. You're new. You're different." "Yes, Mr. Mercury." Strummer grinned at the young girl's persistence. Then he went on. "I think some social activities would be good for you. We have a Rainbow Club you should check out." "Rainbow Club?" "Yes. Gay youth. They'll welcome you in. I think we have two other transvestites who are members." "I'm not a transvestite, Mr. Dylan." "Well, not clinically. But a lot of those kids are treated as different by the student body. You could join the marching band. We have a Spanish club. We have volunteer groups." "Mr. Plant, I just want to do my time. My mother keeps buying me dresses, and she says I'll be a girl for a long time." "Think about it, Melissa. I really think the Rainbow Club would be good for you. Maybe the volleyball team. You could be a cheerleader." "Go team, Mr. Petty." "We have a home economics club," Mr. Strummer tried again. "You could learn to make your own dresses." "Could I find myself a husband, Mr. Fogerty? A big manly man with a tattoo?" "Melissa, you need to find a group. We all need to belong." "I had a group, Mr. Bono. My mother took care of that." "Whatever, Melissa. But it would be better for you if you embraced your new existence, young lady. "Whatever you say, Mr. Clapton. And by the way..." "Yes, Melissa?" "I loved Layla." * * Mary Jane pulled up to the school at 3:25, five minutes before Melissa would be free. She laid her head back and exhaled. Her children kept changing. She had a son who became a daughter who became a son. She had a son who was now a daughter. Was she the meanest mother in the world? Who else would do this to their kids? Then again, who else had to do this? The kids were off course, damn it. They needed to balance. They needed direction. Boy or girl, it didn't matter. They just needed to be upright. She glanced out and saw Melissa walking toward the car. Mary Jane smiled. She was a pretty girl, all right. She was wearing a blond wig until her own hair grew out, and her dress swayed with her movement. Yeah, she was going to do all right as a girl. She glided, the way young girls do. She opened the car door and plopped in beside her mother. "So, how was it, Melissa?" "It was awful. How else could it be? Not that you care." "You'll get used to it." "I don't know. I got a hard-on in math." "Melissa!" "Well, I did. I was making a tent all day because of these damned panties." "Well, we can buy something for that. A gaffe. Or a chastity belt." "A what?" "Greg wore one. It fastens over you and keeps you from getting ... aroused." "Mr. Strummer said I should join a queer club." "Please don't talk like that." "Well, isn't that what it is? Where the boys can all do each other? Where the girls can find girlfriends?" "I'm sure it isn't just a hook-up club." "He wanted me to be a cheerleader and join the volleyball team." "You should. Girls need keep busy." "I'd be a good volleyball player," Melissa said. "I think they have the best grass." "They...smoke marijuana?" "They're a fucking reggae band, mom." "Then no volleyball for you. How about basketball? "I think Coach Stephens likes to fuck his players. And he's, like, a thousand years old." "He doesn't!" "He does. He puts birth control in the Gatorade, and a good time is had by all. Everyone knows it." "Christ." "Mom..." "Yes, Melissa?" "How long am I going to have to wear this crap?" She sighed. "Some girls change back in a few weeks. Some girls are in the skirts for years. Greg changed back in a little over a year and a half. If you want to, you can, too. But if you keep getting into trouble, you'll stay in dresses. After Greg, I know this works. You can be a nice girl, too." "I'm still kind of an asshole, Mom," Melissa said, laughing to herself." "It's been one day, Melissa. This is all about behavior. It isn't just about wearing pretty dresses and being girly. Hell, there are women's prisons, too. Your gender doesn't define you. It just ... guides you." "I'll try, Mom. But I have to admit. There are times I want to pee in the drinking water. I want to hit someone to show I'm still tough." "Well, don't. The finest young ladies don't." "You sure? I thought Taylor Swift was going to spank Beyonce's ass." She laughed then, and Mary Jane was uplifted. Maybe this could work again. Just maybe. * * On her second day of school, Melissa wore a green top and a yellow skirt with green palm trees on it. Joy was waiting for her when she entered the building. "Oh, hi," Melissa said. "Hi yourself. I thought you would need some moral support." "These mouth-breathers don't bother me. Let them stare." "It's because you're pretty." "It's because I'm a freak." "Well, aren't we all?" Melissa found herself laughing as she fell into step with Joy. Joy was a nice girl. And not only that, but that black dress she was wearing was killer. Melissa would have loved to have put it on. Her first dress had been blue. And his mother no longer remembered, but it had been Greg's. How many little boys dress up as girls in their brother's dresses? Now she had a lot of dresses of her own. Hah. Some game she was playing! Her mother thought she was a bad boy who needed to be a good girl. She thought she was a decent girl who used to be a boy. Raheem was a boy who would soon be a man. Shit. The roles kept changing. "Joy? Will you go with me to the Rainbow Club?" Joy looked at her. "I'm not gay, Melissa. I have a boyfriend. Benny." "No. As my friend. You said you were here for moral support." Joy smiled. "Then let's go be Thelma and Louise." The room was 321. They walked in, and the eyes turned toward them. Some of them were wounded eyes who has suffered remarks through the whole school for being different. Some were curious eyes. Some were lustful. But all of them seemed to be accepting. A young man with long hair sat in the front of the room. Clearly, he was the faculty advisor here. "I'm Hank Barnett," he said. "Welcome to the Rainbow." "I'm ... just checking things out," Melissa said. "You're Melissa, right? The whole school is talking about you." "Because I'm so gorgeous?" "That's it," Mr. Barnett said. "They said something about being a movie star." "I'm Joy," Joy said. "I'm just visiting." "Joy, you don't have to be gay to be in the Rainbow. Welcome. Have a soda." "So. Mr. Barnett. What do you think of a mother who would make her son wear panties?" "Panties are nice. Why do you ask?" "Because my Mom makes me wear this shit. She makes me do chores like I'm the flipping maid. I'm being forced to be que...gay." "Your mother loves you, Melissa. You think this is easy for her?" "I ... guess not." "You want to talk to the group? We were just going to have open forum. Gang?" The kids moved their desks into a semi-circle. There were Brenda and Sharon, who were obviously together. There was Sam and Jason, who might have been. There was Bobby and Paul and Pinkie and Susan and Mindy. And Melissa. It was a small group, disaffected gay kids, trying to form a bond with someone. With anyone. They were boys who liked boys and girls who liked girls. And what of it? Sex was such a small thing, and we made it such a big thing, Melissa thought. "My father hates that I'm gay," the boy named Pinkie started. "He hates it when Steve calls me. He keeps threatening to send me to Military School." "That's not so bad," Sam said. "Those privates have privates." Everyone laughed. And the group eased into casual conversation. Sometimes, it was about boyfriends and girlfriends. Sometimes it wasn't. Every now and then, someone would stand and speak to the group at large. "I like your club," Joy said afterward. "Yeah, it's nice," Melissa said. "But why is it my club? I think that Mindy girl had eyes for you." "She's cute. I wonder if she's a good kisser." "Really? I thought you were the straight girl. What was his name? Benny?" "Hell, I have a boyfriend, but I watch Ellen. I didn't say I was dead." Melissa laughed. She had a new friend. She had a new club. She was wearing dresses all day, every day, and everyone thought it was because her mother was forcing her. Shit. Life was good in a dress. * * * That night, after Melissa had washed the dishes, she studied her English for a half an hour. She was about to turn off the light when there was a soft knock on the door. "Hello?" "Melissa? It's me." Greg's voice came through the door. "Greg?" She opened the door, and her brother stood there. He looked her up and down and sighed. "Nice nightgown," he said. "Thanks. I think it used to be yours." "It looks better on you, Melissa. Tell me. Are you holding up okay?" "I'm not you, Greg. I'll be fine." Greg sighed. He looked around the cotton-candy colored room, at the dolls on the dresser, at the stuffed animals on the bed. "I remember, Mikey," he said, using Melissa's male name. "I know it's hard. I had my ass beaten three times the first week. One boy, Stan Howard, used to take my panties off of me every day and run them up the flag pole. The thing is, it never ends. You're always a sissy. Always. You go the bathroom, and you're a sissy. You do your home work, you're a sissy. You go the mall, you're a sissy." "Yeah," Melissa said. "How long before you surrendered to it, Greg?" "It seemed like months. It was probably a few weeks. It was ... the easier path. Hell, maybe I was a sissy all along." "Do you miss it?" "Sometimes," Greg said. "At the end, I was happy being a girl. It was like I was forced to make two sex changes, one to be a girl and one to stop being a girl. The thing is, I was never quite a girl going one direction, and when I came back, I still wasn't quite a boy." "Do you ever see Scottie anymore?" Greg shook his head. "He's in college now. He stopped calling when I went back to being a boy." "I remember seeing you when Mom started making you dress, Greg. I always thought you were pretty." "Ha. Thanks, I think." "You ever want to go back?" Melissa asked. "Oh, no," Greg said. "It was just punishment. I'm a boy who was just playing a role. You'll see. When it's time to change back, you'll be happy." Melissa smiled. But inside, she wanted to yell that she was complete now. She wasn't going to go back. Not ever. * * On Tuesday, Melissa walked into the school and looked for Joy. She wasn't there for once. Melissa had on a blue skirt and a white top. She was wearing blue heels. She moved down the hall, listening to the random remarks as she moved. About her lipstick. About her breast forms. About her earrings. Perhaps she was distracted. Perhaps she was daydreaming. Whatever, she pumped into a light-skinned black girl named Olivia Jackson. "Watch where you're walking, panty boy," the girl said. "Do I look like a boy to you, double wide?" "You look like a guy in a dress trying to fool everyone, Mrs. Doubtfire. You're just another tranny trying to be a chick. You look like the cheapest drag queen in history. Fat ass." "I'm not a drag queen," Melissa said. "My mom is making me dress like this." "Sure she is. That's what you tell everyone, isn't it, pretty boy? You're hiding behind your mother's punishment. 'It's my Mommy's fault that I like dicks.'" High school students love confrontation, and so a crowd had begun to gather. By and large, students are bored out of their minds. So a little face-to-face was entertainment. A black girl and a transvestite. Yeah. That was a fair fight. "Listen, you nappy-headed whore," Melissa responded. "If you weren't fucking old Coach Stephens, you wouldn't be nearly as big an asshole." "None of your business who I'm fucking, except when your Daddy comes around." "You wish you had someone as young as my Daddy. Who did Coach Stephens fight for in the civil war? The South, I bet. So he could buy you as a slave." At that, Olivia shoved Melissa. Melissa grabbed a fistful of Olivia's hair. Their bodies collided like deer in the forest. The students began to chant, to egg on the violence, until a large pair of hands pulled them apart. Coach Stephens. "Let me go," Melissa fumed. "Just calm down, girl," Coach Stephens said. "Olivia? Are you okay?" "It figures you'd ask about her," Melissa said. "She's your fuck toy, isn't she? You like the dark ladies, don't you, asshole?" Coach Stephens had each girl by the wrist now. He dragged them to Mr. Strummer's office. "Now sit there. I'm calling your parents." The girls sat, four seats apart, in the empty office. Coach Stephens watched them and, believing there would be no more violence, walked out of the room to let them talk it out. Olivia looked at Melissa. "Nappy-headed?" Melissa broke into a grin. "Fat ass?" "Well,, a little. You've got a sista's ass." Melissa laughed. "Our little play did okay, didn't it?" Olivia shook her head. "You sure we had to do that? You don't have many friends around here." "Hell, everyone will forget by tomorrow. Even those of. us with fat asses." The girls laughed. Melissa and Olivia had been friends for years, since Mikey and Raheem started hanging out when they played soccer together. To Olivia, it was obvious that her brother liked this skinny little white boy as a little more than friends. Raheem had always been that way. He liked girly boys. Mikey's older brother was wearing dresses by that time. So one day, Olivia asked Mikey why he didn't wear them, too. Mikey blushed, but there had been something in his eyes that suggested he found the idea intriguing. He admitted that to her twice now he had put on Gwen's dresses. Soon enough Olivia was dressing him, and Raheem was like a lost puppy following her around. When Mikey had come up with his plan to get feminized, Olivia was all for it. Hell, she helped to plan it. They sat in the office for 20 minutes before Melissa could hear her mother's voice. She and Mr. Strummer entered the office together, and Mary Jane was glaring so hard she might have shot laser beams from her eyes. "So what now, Melissa?" Mary Jane asked. "She started it," Melissa said. "Yeah, someone else always starts it, don't they?" Olivia looked up. "She called me the n-word, Mrs. Williams." "She did? My God, Melissa. We don't use that kind of language." "I never did." "Right. I suppose Olivia is just making it up." "Mom...she made fun of my penis size." Mary Jane fought a grin. "Be quIet, Melissa. You've earned extra time in a dress. How is that? If you keep getting in trouble, I'll make you carry a doll around school all day." "Mom. I'm too old for dolls." "How about diapers? How about a pacifier? You have no idea how far I can go, girl." "I"m....sorry, mom." "Say it to Olivia." "I'm sorry, Olivia." Olivia nodded. "It's okay," she said. "I don't think fairy boys can help themselves." * * It went on like that. Every few weeks, Melissa would find a reason to dig her predicament deeper. She was caught with meth in her backpack. She cheated on a test. She stole a pack of cigarettes. She had a book of naked men. "Every time I feel you're making progress, you backslide," Mary Jane said. "What am I going to do with you?" "I don't know," Melissa said. "Just don't feminize me any more. I can't take it." "I don't know. I think maybe we should." "Please," Melissa said. "No." "How'd you like a nice little set of titties, Melissa. Would those calm you down?" "Mom? If you do this, please don't make them too big." "What? I thought all sissies like big boobies. We'll go see Dr. Morrison this week. We'll see what he thinks." Melissa stared out the window. "Mom, can I have a motorcycle?" "What? Of course not." "I'd have more friends." "Stop it. You absolutely cannot have a motorcycle." "Biker chicks are very popular, Mom. Don't you want me to be popular?" "Not that way. I don't care if the guys with tattooed knuckles think you're popular or not." "But Leon is so damn cute on his Harley." "Leon?" "Just a boy, Mom." "Do you like boys, Mellissa?" "Hell, what other choice do I have? You've made me a girl. Girls like boys. It's either that, or I find a girl who shaves her face and fixes cars." Mary Jane sighed. She wasn't ready for this. "Greg liked boys," Melissa said. "No, she didn't." Melissa laughed. "If you say so, Mom. You never did ask her about Scottie, did you? I think he was great to her ... in the end." Melissa smirked. Mary Jane drove in silence. Her sons had both had boyfriends. But hell, that was part of growing up. In college, Mary Jane had dated Amy Brennan for a month. It was a sweet memory. If Greg was a homosexual, if Melissa was thinking about it, we'll, I hoped they found a sweet guy. "Melissa?" Mary Jane said. "Yes?" "You can date who you want to date. It's okay." * * * On Saturday night, Melissa felt on top of the world. She was wearing a sleek black dress and black heels. The hair from her wig cascaded to her shoulders. Her makeup was flawless. And why not? Tonight, she and Raheem were coming out. Raheem was nervous. It was his first-ever date with of one of his new girlfriends -- a former boy. And there was so much of their story to keep straight. He didn't want to say something to expose Melissa. She had worked to hard to set all of this up. He was standing at the door, holding flowers, when Mrs. Williams answered it. She was pretty for a white woman, he thought. And why shouldn't she be? She was Melissa's mom. "Good evening, Mrs. Williams," he said. "These are for you." "Why thank you. Raheem, is it? Are you Muslim, Raheem?" "No, ma'am. My mom just liked the name." "Well, come in Raheem. So you're dating my little girl?" "No, ma'am. I'm dating Melissa." "That's who I mean, Raheem. So when did you two start dating." "Oh, recently, ma'am. After my sister and Melissa got into a fight." "Oh. You're Olivia's brother? I'm happy that they've made up enough for you to be comfortable dating Melissa." "Yeah. They both got carried away before. They're friends now." "That's good. Melissa needs friends." "I'm her friend, Mrs. Williams. I mean, I don't care that she used to be a boy. She's pretty." Mary Jane smiled. "It doesn't matter where we start in life, Raheem. It matters where we end up." "I told Melissa that last year. It's from Shakespeare or someone." Mary Jane flinched. Then she smiled and offered Raheem some dip. Melissa entered the room. She was a vision to Mary Jane's eyes. She could imagine how she looked to Raheem. Raheem stood and awkwardly leaned down and kissed Melissa on the cheek. He took her hand as she sat down. He put his arm around her. She rested her hand on his knee. Clearly, they were comfortable with each other. They talked about high school, about Mr. Barnett's club, about Mr. Strummer, about their classes. About the upcoming prom. About the basketball games. About Mr. Jenette, who was a hard-ass. Mary Jane smiled at them. "Melissa, I have to say. You're lovely tonight. It's hard to believe you used to be Mikey. You must be the prettiest girl in school." "Mom," Melissa said. "I'm not." "Well, I think so. So Olivia introduced you two?'" "Yes, ma'am. Raheem has a weakness for ... girls like me. So Olivia asked me to go to the Steak and Shake, and Raheem met us there. He was dazzled by my charms." Mary Jane laughed. "And such charms they are," Mary Jane said. "Well, I'll say goodnight now, Raheem, and give. you kids some space. Don't stay up late. And don't forget, I sometimes come down for a glass of milk. So don't do anything I wouldn't want you doing." "Mom!" Mary Jane giggled. She went up the stairs and Melissa fussed with the television. Mary Jane looked back, and frowned. She went up the stairs. Once there, she knocked gently on Greg's door. He opened it. He was doing an online course in Japanese. Mary Jane entered and closed the door. "What's up, Mom?" Greg said. "I don't know. Something is bothering me about your sister." "Melissa? What is it?" "Well, I was watching her tonight. Her feminine ruse is down perfectly." "It should be, shouldn't it? She's been at it for months." "It's too perfect, Greg. You used to forget your earrings, remember? Your makeup was usually a little bit off. But not with Melissa." "She's better at this than I was, Mom," Greg said. "Then Raheem said they had dated last year. Hell, she's only been doing this for a few months. Olivia introduced her after their fight." "You must have heard wrong." "I didn't. Greg, is it possible that Melissa is playing us?" "Why would she do that?" "Maybe... maybe she likes the clothes. Maybe she wanted the punishment all along. Do you think?" "That's pretty twisted, mom. It seems to me there are easier ways to come out if you're...trans." "Maybe. But this way, it looks like I was forcing her to dress along along. It's a perfect disguise, Greg." "Mom. You don't realize how hard this punishment is. You lose all of your friends. The teachers treat you like you're a freak. And you spend months looking in the mirror, trying to figure out if you should date boys or girls." "What are you saying, Greg." "I'm saying Scottie and I had sex, okay? And I liked it. I'm not gay, but it was a level of acceptance you can't find most places." "I understand. I'm sorry, Greg." He shook his head. "You changed my life. I learned about priorities. I learned to care. I'm just saying to go easy on Melissa. If this is her playing us, then it's because that's important to her." "We'll see." "What do you mean, Mom?" "I think it's time Mikey was a boy again." * * They met at the breakfast table. Melissa was already dressed in a blue- patterned sun dress and blue heels. She was ready to greet the world as a girl once more. "Mikey?" Mary Jane said. Melissa flinched at the sound of her boy's name. "Yes, Mom?" "You've been very good, Mikey. I know it's only been a few months, but I don't think the petticoat punishment will do anything else for you. I think it?s time you went back to boys? clothes.? Melissa?s mouth dropped open. She didn?t say anything for a moment. ?Go on. If you hurry, you can be ready for school today.? ?But?but, Mom. I?m already dressed.? ?And you?re pretty. I?m sure Raheem will like to see you. But I don?t think you deserve to be punished anymore. I mean, you?ve been pretty good.? ?Um, Mom. I stole a test from sociology.? ?You what?? ?I stole the test. I was going to use it to cheat.? ?Oh, well. I?m sure you learned your lesson. It?s nothing that calls for you wearing a dress.? ?But ? but the Rainbow Club meets today. I?m not sure I should go in pants.? ?You can miss a meeting. You?re not a cross-dresser anymore, are you?? ?But Raheem will break up with me. He likes his boys to be girls.? ?I?m sure he?ll appreciate you the way you really are. You guys can still be gay if you want. I won?t fight you.? ?Mom?? ?Yes, Mikey?? And Melissa started to cry, tortured, jagging sobs. ?I?m sorry, Mom. I?m sorry.? ?What are you talking about, Mikey?? ?I?m?I?m Melissa. This is who I am. This is who I?ve always been.? ?Melissa. What are you saying?? ?I?m one of those, Mom. I?m a trans girl. I?ve loved dressing up for years now. I want to dress up for the rest of my life.? ?Then why didn?t you tell me, Mikey? Why weren?t you just honest with me?? ?Because I was scared what you would think. No one likes to be a freak, Mom.? ?You?re not a freak, Melissa. You?re my daughter. It?s okay if you stay awhile.? Melissa looked up. ?It is?? ?Jesus, Mikey?Melissa. I pushed both of my sons into dresses. It obviously isn?t going to kill me if one of them wants to go there on her own.? ?Forever?? ??and a day.? ?I?m so sorry, Mom.? ?I?m sorry, too, Melissa. * * An hour later, Mary Jane walked her daughter through the hall of Bush High School. This time, there was a collar around Melissa?s neck. She was pulling her on a chain. ?Mrs. Williams?? Mr. Strummer said. ?Good morning, Mr. Strummer,? she said. ?As you can see, Melissa messed up again. So we?re accelerating her punishment. She will have her breasts augmented, and we?re going to tattoo permanent makeup onto her. She?ll be the newest member of the Bush High cheerleader squad, if that?s acceptable.? ?Um, if you think the extra punishment is called for.? ?I do. I was too light over the past few months. I?ve decided to get tougher, starting with spankings. And as of now, Melissa will go to work. A maid, maybe. A waitress. Maybe a secretary. She?s a girl now, Mr. Strummer. She?s going to remain that way.? Melissa hung her head as her mother talked. Her shoulders sagged as her classmates shook their head at his latest punishment. She walked up to Joy, who stood beside Olivia. Her face had a look of shock to it. Then Melissa looked up. She looked at her friends. And she did the earnest thing. She winked. Copyright (c) 2019, Cassandra Morgan