Turning Point free porn video

The Turning Point Janet L. Stickney [email protected] When I was dragged into the office, I knew that I had gone too far, one time too many. Both my mom and dad were there, as were the two teachers involved, the principal, and the school security guard. None of them were smiling as I was forced into a chair facing a circle of very angry adults. "You are in so much trouble," my dad said, "young man that I'm ready to let them simply prosecute you! Maybe we should let them toss your skinny ass in jail for a while! Maybe that'll get your attention! Lord knows we've tried every thing else we could think of!" My crime? I had used super glue on the teachers chairs, so that when they sat down, well, they were stuck! Both of them had to be cut out of their clothes, and both suffered minor burns when the glue soaked through and the acetate was used to clean them up. I thought it was funny as hell at the time. The time before that, I had rigged a can of paint that spilled red paint in the teachers restroom. I got Mrs. Worth that time; As bad as that was, it was the super glue prank that had finally pushed everyone over the edge, and there I was, facing a very uncertain future. My dad looked as if he was ready to tear me limb from limb, my mother's face was almost purple with rage, and to my great dismay, they looked the best out of all of the people in the room! I knew that I was in very serious trouble. "While tossing this young man," the Principal said quietly, "in jail might make us feel better, I think that we should proceed in the manner we discussed earlier. I mean, if someone is going to be miserable, why should it be us?" That sounded very ominous. "I agree," Mr. Haver said. He was one of the teachers I got, and the one that got burned the worst. "I think it will curtail his... extracurricular activities quite well!" "I agree," mom said sourly, "I think it's time that our little boy changed his ways, and this will, most likely, do it! If it doesn't, then we can always consider the jail option later, right?" "Are we agreed then?" Everyone nodded their heads yes, and I was roughly yanked to my feet by my father, and unceremoniously dragged out to the car. He didn't say a word, not even on the ride home, but once we were in the house... "You listen to me young man," dad said, anger filling his voice, "this little escapade is going to cost us a lot of money, and we're all done bailing you out! So! In order to get your undivided attention, we have come up with a new way to get your absolute, and undivided attention! I think I can guarantee that it will almost certainly inhibit your penchant for causing people harm, or damaging them or their possessions! Now I know," he said softly as he got right in my face, "that you won't like it one bit, but I can promise, that if you resist, even the slightest bit, it will get worse, much worse than you can possibly imagine! Now, your mother is going to help you get ready, and if I hear one word of complaint from you, well, maybe then you'll find out what pain really is! Got it!?" Scared to death, about all I could manage was.... "Yes.... Sir." "Good! Now go with your mother. I'll be right here, listening for any complaints!" Following her into my bedroom... "Get undressed," she told me firmly and without the slightest bit of emotion. When I was down to my briefs... "those to. I want you naked!" Embarrassing as that was, as soon as I was naked, she yanked me by the arm into the bathroom, told me to stand still, and began to cover me from neck to toe in a pink cream, which started to burn after a few minutes. When I started to ask about it, she held her finger to her lips, meaning for me to stay silent. Thirty minutes later she hosed it off, and I was surprised to see that any hair I had on my body had disappeared! Then she washed my hair with her shampoo, not mine, and finally told me to dry off and come to her room, still naked. At age 13, almost 14, I wasn't anxious to walk around the house naked, but I really didn't have any choice at all, and did what she told me. The minute I walked in the bedroom I saw it, and suddenly knew that it was for me, and my parents were going to make me wear it! "Mommmmm." "One more sound out of you, and I promise, it will get much worse that you can possibly imagine! Do we understand each other?" I nodded my head yes rather than risk whatever might be worse than what I already saw. My mother held out a pair of pink panties that had ruffles on it, telling me to put them on, and I did. It was better than being naked, but I felt my heart sinking as she held out a matching pink bra, which she wrapped around my chest, fastened it up, then filled the cups with some gel inserts. Then came... something else. She slipped it over my head, telling me it was called a camisole. White tights followed that, then a pair of shiny white shoes with an ankle strap. I just knew what was coming, but as bad as it looked, I wasn't about to tempt fate and possibly see what could be worse than what was happening, so I just did what she told me. "Sit down over here honey. I have to do your hair." Do my hair? What the hell did that mean!? I found out when she started putting in her rollers into my hair, winding them up tight against my scalp, then using a chemical she brushed on. It looked messy, smelled worse, and burned! Half an hour later she took me back in the bath, and rinsed off my hair, and took out the rollers; my hair was a bright blond, and it was curly! "Now we can trim your hair and brush it out, Let's go back in my room." Like a freight train barreling down the tracks right at you, I knew it was coming, and I was helpless to stop it. I just sat there as mom trimmed my hair, then brushed it out. I looked like a tall Shirley Temple, which only got worse when she started to put makeup on my face. Foundation, blusher, eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara, before she told me to stand up. The dress was all white, frilly beyond words, with shiny pink satin ribbons laced through it, making a design of sorts. Mom helped me get it on, then zipped it up, stopping only to fasten the top button. I wanted to cry, to fight back, say no, yell, something, anything, but mom knew that, and showed me the alternative. Like the dress I had on, it was frilly, but it was bright red, and even shorter than the one I had on! "Just a dab of perfume, then we'll do your nails, you can add some lipstick, and we can go! Won't that be fun?" "Go?" I asked softly, dreading the answer... "Why... back to school of course! You aren't going to miss a whole day, not after this!" I was completely beaten, and sullenly sat there while she did my nails, I added the lipstick as directed, then I was made to stand in the family room, having to stand there while my father looked me over. "Do you have any idea just how silly you look? I think you do, but you'll just have to live with it, because you'll be wearing dresses from now until I think you have learned your lesson! We will not tolerate any more of these pranks of yours, and maybe this will keep you from getting into so much trouble!" "School?" I asked softly, suddenly very afraid. "Yeah," he said firmly, "school, home, work, whatever it is, you'll be in dresses!" "I'll get killed if I showed up like this!" "Maybe," he said, "but I think not, not today anyway. They'll all be too busy laughing at you. However, if you go back to school, dressed like this, without any fuss, then maybe we'll consider letting you dress a bit more like the rest of the girls in your class. In any case, you'll be dressing like a girl until I say otherwise. The choice you have is this. Go like this today and maybe get a better deal, or put up a fuss, and you'll be dressing exactly like this, maybe even worse, until you graduate; that I can promise!" That's what he said. What it really meant was, would I rather be shot, or would I prefer being hung. Either way I was going to be dead meat. The only question was when, not if. "Well?" mom asked. Since I just knew that when the other kids saw me, my life expectancy wasn't going to be any better than a fart in the wind, going to jail seemed almost safer! But, no matter how bad it was, the way I was dressed right then, well, it was the lesser of all the evils, and not being a total idiot, the chance to look like everyone else, even the girls, was my best and probably only, option for survival. I don't think my parents understood that in any way. All I did was nod my head to seal my fate. Mom gave me a small shiny white handbag, which I had to carry in my hand, and we left to return to the school. I was very afraid, virtually near collapse, because I knew the jocks would kill me the moment they saw me and got the chance. I was escorted, no, make that forcefully, helped, into the building, and taken directly to the office. Thankfully, and to my great relief, everyone was in class. Once the principal had seen me, then regained his composure, he called the same teachers back into this office. I could see them trying really hard not to laugh, and I started to cry. "That's enough of that," mom said, "you'll ruin your makeup." I did my best, but couldn't stop the flow of tears, my shame so much greater than my fear of her... or my father. I just stood there like that, waiting for the chorus of snickers to break out into roaring laughter, then... "As much as I appreciate the effort," our Principal said, sounding somewhat in shock, yet with the hint of laughter in his voice, "I don't think I can let this child into the school, certainly not dressed like that! I can guarantee that she wouldn't even make it until school let out! The kids would crucify her! I think that our intention of getting her undivided attention, to correct the continuing streak of mischief she has continually engaged in, can be met in a less intrusive, and certainly, a much safer manner! In all good conscience, and for her own safety, I cannot, and will not, let her into the school dressed like that, under any conditions; it would simply be to dangerous! But, if she were to dress like the other girls, then maybe we can work something out; I can have her start as a new student... a transfer student perhaps." I almost collapsed in relief. "A transfer student? What does that mean?" Mom didn't get it at all. "It means, that I have a duty to consider her safety first, even before correcting any of her... faults! In order to ensure that, and allow her to fit in better, I am going to suggest that she return as a transfer student, a girl of course, which will do several things at once. It'll protect her from the bullies, let her fit in with the other girls, and finally, and most obviously, restrain her exuberance towards pranks. I am also going to suggest that you home school her for a while, and let her learn how to be more feminine? Maybe a charm school perhaps? Then let her return at the start of the new semester. That's the usual time for transfers, and by doing that it that way, she won't raise any eyebrows." Both of my parents just sat there for a moment, then my dad said... "I suppose you're right, we considered his safety, but we certainly did not think the kids would harm him! We never even thought of that! However, if you say that's the case, and I have no reason not to believe you, then we'll do as you suggest. When he returns in the fall, he'll have had almost five months as a girl, and he'll be just as feminine as all the other girls, I can promise you that much!" They let us leave by the private entrance so nobody could see me, and we went straight home. My relief, such as it was, was only momentary. Not having to attend school dressed like a five year old was good. Learning how to be a girl wasn't, yet that reality became even clearer the minute we got home. Mom stripped me of those horrible clothes, but replaced them with a plain denim skirt and a pink top, with a bigger bra of course. That's when I had the smallest inkling of an idea run through my tiny brain. If they had planned to have me dress up like a child, why did she have that skirt, top, and bra on hand? My mother is a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them, and when she saw the obvious question on my face. "You didn't really think that we were going to make you go to school dressed like that did you!? Do you really believe that we're so stupid that we couldn't figure out that you not only could, but probably would, be hurt, badly? We wouldn't do that to you! But we did assume, correctly it seems, that we could get your attention this way, and we did, didn't we? No. We are going to let you dress normally, but trust me, it will be as a girl! Your days of causing havoc are over! And, I will stress, that if you cause even the slightest bit of trouble, we won't hesitate for a second, and you will be wearing that silly dress, and others just like it, every day, even at school! Now, can we rely on you to behave yourself?" I nodded my head yes. "Say it honey." "You can rely on me to behave." "I just knew you would cooperate, once you knew all the facts!! Now, lets talk about what we should call you!" "Huh?" "You don't want to be wearing a dress, and having everyone call you Jason do you?" "No way mom!" "Well that means that we have to find a nice girl's name for you doesn't it?" "Yeah, I guess," I said sourly. "I was thinking something like Emily. I looked it up on the governments web site, and it's the number one name for girls born in the year you were. Or maybe you would like something like Brittany perhaps?" "Emily is okay I guess." I was dejected because she actually had me picking out my own name! "Okay then! Emily it is! Now, we can discuss our goals!" "Goals?" We are going to home school you, just like your Principal suggested, but you'll also be attending a school to help you become more lady like. They'll teach you how you walk and so on. We only have five months before the new school year starts, and I really hope that's enough time for you to adapt, because that's all the time we have. But before we do that, we need to get you fitted, so you'll fit in better with the rest of the girls. Better boobs to start with, those gel pads won't do for very long. And butt padding. Girls are rounder, fuller in the hips and bottoms, so we'll see about that too. Then we can start increasing you wardrobe so you'll have a variety of things to wear!" There wasn't anything I could say, or even do, to dissuade my mother, and certainly not my dad, from turning me into a girl. At that moment, I really regretted those pranks I pulled. At the time I thought they were just funny as hell. Now, as I looked back on them, I realized the biggest prank of all was on me! When I realized that I would be attending school as a girl, I figured my parents would fix me up, boobs, maybe some really good ones, and possibly some hip padding, but what I got was much worse than I could have imagined. My parents had obviously planned the whole thing, from that farce in the Principals office, to the point when I was thoroughly beaten down to the point of capitulation. I realized that when mom simply gave me a small shoulder bag, and told me to join her in the car. The doctors parking lot was empty, and when we walked in, she greeted us herself. With a quick hello, mom and I went into an examining room, and I was told to take off my clothes and lay back on the table. The doctor had delivered me when I was born, and had given me every physical since then, but I was shy about undressing in front of her, until mom gave me the eye. As I lay there on the table, she put my legs up in the air and spread them wide, a very embarrassing position to say the least. "Her testicles have not yet dropped, so the procedure will take a bit longer, and of course, as we discussed, there might be some atrophy involved when it comes time to release them. Shall I proceed?" "Of course! I'd rather have a daughter that knows how to behave than a son that's in jail!" "Atrophy? What the hell did that mean I wondered, just as I felt the shot, and out I went. Then the doctor went to work on me, and I just knew in my heart that when she was done, my manhood, my pride and joy, would be gone; continuing to reinforce the fact that my parents were obviously very serious about this! When I awoke, I ached all over, from my neck to my knees, and it was hard for me to stand let alone get dressed, so mom and the doctor had to help me. By the time we got home all I wanted to do was sleep, and she put me to bed. I woke up the next day, still hurting, only a bit less, and able to walk by then. Bandages were wrapped around my groin and chest. I figured the groin, but the twin mounds that pushed out against the bandage on my chest told me all I needed to know. I had boobs! There was no doubt about it, and I instantly wanted to rip off the bandages to see what they did to me, but I hurt too much, so I didn't. Mom came in just then. "I see you have figured out that you have boobs now." "But why mom?! I mean, they make good ones don't they?" "Of course they do. But this way you won't be able to... "forget," them shall we say, and try to sneak out as a boy! No. This way, they will look and feel more realistic because they're a part of you!" I was crushed. Tits! I had tits! "They aren't going to be that big, just big enough so that you'll know you have them, but once they start growing, the doctor will remove the small bag, and you'll have no need to... enhance them!" "Grow? My own? What does that mean!?" "Since you have not yet started male puberty, she gave you a shot that will inhibit the growth of your beard for example, and it will allow you to enter the same type of puberty that a girl would, which means that you'll develop much like they will, with a rounder shape, smooth skin, no beard, that sort of thing!" "In the doctors office," I almost shouted, "you said you would rather have a girl! Your doing this because you hate me!" "No dear, we don't hate you. What I said was, I would rather have a well behaved daughter than a son in jail! Did you know that the school was on the verge of having you arrested for this last prank? Because it was so malicious? It was only because we stepped in, with this idea, that you're not in jail! You would have grown up with a criminal record! Do you have any idea what that means? You couldn't get a security clearance, work with money, vote, any number of other things! So, regardless of what you may have thought, or even think now, we're doing you a huge favor!" Favor? She was crazy! "I think we can remove the bandages, so lets see what the doctors work looks like!" Mom carefully removed the bandage on my chest, and then I saw them. They stuck out, yet looked round, without much sag to them. I groaned when I saw them, but she went on, removing the bandage from my groin. If I thought the boobs were bad, well, all traces of my manhood were gone, in it's place a mere slit, highlighted by my naked skin. A very small suture line under each nipple was the only sign that I had help in getting boobs, but mom assured me that they would fall out in a few day, leaving a virtually invisible scar. She left me to get dressed on my own, telling me not to forget the bra. A bra! There is no terror like being stuck within events that which we have no control over. I just stood there staring into the mirror, the image of a young girl standing there making me feel sick. I pulled on those flowered panties, then struggled with the bra, then the denim skirt and a top. There was no way that I was going to wear makeup, so I put on my shoes and brushed out my hair before I stepped out of my room. It wasn't easy, but I couldn't stay in my room forever. "There you are!" mom said brightly, "for your first time, you did very well!" "Gee, thanks mom." "Don't be like that honey; we know that you think this is the worst thing that could happen to you, but it isn't. There are many things in life much worse than wearing a skirt!" "I can't think of any!... Mom, my chest really hurts!" "Come. Sit over here and I'll get you something, then we'll talk." I sat and took the offered pill. "This... adventure, can be very hard on you, or, it can become quite easy. The choice is yours of course, but however you make it, the fact remains that you will look like a girl, more and more each day, and fighting it will simply make it harder on you! If you go with it, and simply accept the fact that you are going to be a girl, your life will be much easier, and probably, a lot more fun." "But I don't know how to be a girl!" I cried out, then started crying again. "We know that honey, but you know that we have already made the arrangements for you to learn how to be a young lady. We both think your only hope of getting through this, is to take the classes, do what they tell you, then try to put those things they teach you to use the best way that you can. Can you do that?" "Do I have a choice?" "Yes and no Emily. Yes, you have to take the classes, but no, you do have the choice to ignore those classes and risk looking like a boy in a dress, or not. That choice is yours, but if you decide to ignore what they tell you and not make an effort to use the skills they give you, then just how many people will know who you really are? A lot I would think, and we both know you don't want that, right?" "Mom! I promise! I'll never pull another prank, ever! Please.... let me...." "No dear. We do not have a choice, and neither do you! If you don't do this, then the school will press charges and you'll go to jail! We simply cannot, and will not, let that happen! In fact, we don't like doing this any more than you do, but we all have to find a way to cope with it, won't we?" I just sat there, crushed as the reality set in. Once again my parents had left my fate in my own hands. I could resist and probably suffer ridicule, even though I would still be a girl, or, I could take the lessons to heart, do my best, and maybe, just maybe, get by well enough that people would leave me alone. In effect, I once again had no choice at all. My mother just sat there watching me as all those thoughts ran through my head, then smiled when she realized that I had also come to the same conclusion she had. "Why don't you and I go out and have a fun day? I think that if you had your hair cut and styled, in a less than younger style, you would feel much better about yourself, then we can have lunch out, and maybe pick up a few things you'll need?" "I suppose," I said quietly, "might as well get it over with." "That's my girl! Get your purse and we can go." The beauty shop smelled funny, but it was bright and clean, and as soon as mom gave them our names, we were each whisked away, to our own stylists chair. Since I had no idea what to tell her, when she asked what I wanted, I just told her to "fix it up." She washed my hair, which I will admit felt good, then there was a lot of snipping, cutting and so on before she started in with the rollers. "I was thinking a softer blond would look good on you honey. This blond is to harsh for your coloring, and anything else will look like a bad dye job! Okay?" I nodded my head yes, already having given up any hope of getting free of this girl thing. The chemicals smelled bad, and again, burned a bit, but not as bad, and I had to sit under the dryer for half an hour, maybe even a little more. While I sat there, another girl came over and started in on my fingernails. Sanding, trimming, buffing, then a paste was added as she made each one a bit longer before she painted them with hot pink nail polish. She even added a small panda to one nail! She said that all the girls asked for it. Then it was back to the stylist who took out the rollers and began to brush out my hair. When I finally got to see the results, I was shocked. I had wavy blond hair that flowed down to just above my shoulders, with bangs that just covered my forehead! I was shaken, as much by how I looked, as how little effort it took! "Just go with Marilyn honey, she'll do your makeup." Well, by the time we left, I didn't look anything like me in any way! The makeup had colored my face in ways that actually made me look good, maybe even better! With the new hair style, nails and makeup, I reluctantly found myself thinking that maybe, if I were very lucky, I might just be able to pull this off! As we walked outside... "See! I told you that you would look very nice! You're even prettier than I thought you would be!" "Yeah," I said softly, then shocked myself by saying... "I guess, and it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, that's for sure!" "How would you like to really shock your father? What I was thinking was, maybe we could find you a very nice dress, with some good jewelry, some shoes, and handbag to match of course, then have him meet us for dinner somewhere?" "Like this!?" "Emily! Think about what you just said! You know that you look just delicious, so, other than a new dress, of course, yes! Just like that!" When you reach the bottom, the only way you have left to go is up; and since I was standing there with a new hairdo, shiny pink nail polish, my boobs sticking out and bare legs, I was most definitely at the bottom. I had reached that point when there just wasn't any fight left in me, and besides, if I did make a big deal about it, the consequences, those frilly little girl dresses, would be worse than I would want to imagine, even if I did look like a girl, and since they had already turned me into what look like a girl, I had no reason to doubt my parents determination. With all that in mind I finally capitulated. My struggle had come to an end... "Does that mean I'll get pierced ears? And girl earrings?" "That's what it means honey. Now lets find you a nice dress!" "You won't get one like that other one...before..." "No dear. We'll get you a very nice dress, I promise! You can even help pick it out!" There was nothing to do but nod my head yes, and off we went. It's a terrible thing, to lose oneself, and while I seemed to have lost my old self, at least physically, I kept seeing my reflection in the windows as we passed by, the vision of the girl I had become always there. In my mind, I kept alive inside the hope that someday I could return to my rightful place as a boy, but for the moment, I was out buying myself a dress, and probably more. I had finally given up. In effect, I had simply given myself permission to become the girl my parents were determined to turn me into, and while I wasn't thrilled about it, I didn't exactly hate it. As dumb as I was, I knew that if I were to spend all my time hating what I had become, I would not be able to get through it. The shop was filled with dresses of all kinds, prom dresses, cocktail dresses, evening gowns, as well as what mom called everyday dresses. I think mom knew what she was looking for, but unfamiliar with dresses, I was overwhelmed by the number of styles, colors, and how different they all were! As I followed mom through the store I began to see just how many choices girls had! I saw some that didn't look too bad, a few that were just plain outrageous, and a few that sadly, I actually thought might look good on me! Geesh! What was I thinking! Then mom motioned me over. "I was thinking that something like this, a simple sheath would look very nice. Take this and try it on. Let me see how you look before you take it off. I want to check the size." I took the dress and tried it on, and to be frank, it fit me perfectly, but I hated that yellow on me, and mom agreed. The next one was red, and did not fit as well. By the time we got to the third one, which was all black, I was getting an inkling of why girls spent so much time shopping. Like the first dress, it fit me just right. It was a sheath, with a square cut neckline, short cap sleeves mom told me, that just barely folded over my shoulders, and the hem was just above my knees. Mom oohed and aahed, then asked me what I thought. "It feels okay, I mean, it's not tight, and I like the color better than that yellow one, that's for sure, but it's still a dress!" "Of course it's a dress honey! You'll just have to get used to the idea that you'll be wearing one quite a bit now, okay? Besides, the black looks spectacular on you! Now lets see about a few other things. We can make this a really special night for everyone!" "Huh?" "You know how angry your father was when he heard about your little escapade of yours? He was almost to the point of making you wear that silly dress anyway, no matter what anyone said, but I was the one that managed to talk him out of that, for your own safety! Now it'll be up to you to convince him that I was right. I can't believe that you want to risk that silly dress do you? But if I tell him that we went shopping and you picked out the clothes yourself, then maybe he'll lighten up on you a bit, and if you do your best to be the girl you are now, then maybe he'll even ease up a bit quicker and let you have a bit more latitude! Now then, lets go shopping!" As we walked through the mall I figured that mom was probably right, and began to see her part in all this a lot differently. My initial response had been that they both wanted this. Apparently it was my father, with my mom going along, but almost as angry as he was. She saw the dangers that my dad refused to believe existed. That was why, I found out later, that she was the one that suggested taking me to school in that outfit. So everyone could see for themselves how dangerous it would be. She did not want me hurt, which is why she had managed to calm my father down. It was also a way for her to convince him that that by making sure that I had boobs and a snatch, I could fit in better, and not be found on the side of the road in ruffled panties, a silly dress, and blood covered contusions all over my body. By gently guiding me into that realization, she had also managed to find a way for me to accept myself, a least a little, and maybe calm my father down at the same time. My capitulation to the obvious was slowly beginning to turn into grudging acceptance. In a lingerie store, mom and I bought several pairs of what I thought were very thin panties, in red, black, and white, then bras, which I was fitted for, in taupe, white, and black, plus a gel filled padded pantybrief in taupe. Then it was on to get nightgowns, several skirts which I picked out myself, some blouses and tops, shoes, a coat, and then I had my ears pierced. We also bought 12 pairs of earrings, some necklaces, and a few bracelets. My mother let me pick out most things, helping when I didn't have a clue. By the time we got home I was beginning to get a bit anxious about my dad seeing me all dolled up, but it would happen, eventually anyway, so I simply put things away in my now empty dresser. Mom gave me a plastic cap for my hair, and I went in to shower, careful, like mom told me, not to get my makeup wet, then went to get dressed. Taking a cue from my mother, I knew what I was going to do. I started with those whisper thin black panties, slipping them on, only to find that I could see my kitty right through them! But, I was on a roll, and pulled on the black bra. I pulled my still sore, tiny breasts up in the cups so that I swelled out even more than usual, and at her direction, used the gel forms to keep them hiked up, put on the padded pantybrief, then reached for the pantyhose. The dress slid over my head and after I zipped it up I was rewarded with the sight of the twin mounds of my boobs. I put on the shiny black heels, changed the earrings to the black and gold ones, the gold necklace with the black stone, and a gold bracelet. Just then mom came in. "Oh my! You look just darling! Come into my room and we'll see about straightening out your hair and touch up your makeup!" Mom told me how to do it, but I was the one holding the brush, and I was the one fixing my makeup. The lipstick had been changed to something a bit more red. Then she gave me some perfume to use. It was as if a magic cloud descended on me, and I suddenly, and very strangely, began to feel very feminine; it was as if that magic cloud lifted most of the doubts and fears I had, and I had somehow become the girl I looked like. I glanced up at my mother, a tear starting to form in my eyes. "I know how you feel honey. I felt the same way when I first used perfume. It does something to make us feel special doesn't it?" "Yeah," I said softly " "Lets take a look in the mirror and see what you think." The girl I saw in the mirror did not look like me at all, not in any way! She had nice boobs, great legs if I do say so, smelled better than nice, and had a pretty smile. I was not exactly shocked, and since I was no longer fighting it, and I could actually appreciate the beauty I had become. Mom casually undressed, and began to get ready herself, standing there in her panties and bra with no thought of me. But as she unfastened her bra... "There is no reason for either of us to worry about seeing the other naked now, is there? I mean, we have the same equipment, right?" She had a point, so I sat there a moment longer, but just when she started to remove her bra, I left. That was simply to much for me. I waited in the living room, but did indulge myself by looking in the mirror at my reflection a few times, trying one last time to reconcile what I had been, versus what I was right then. My father was suitably impressed, even awed a bit I think, especially when he got a gander at my boobs. I know for sure that he wanted to ask some questions, but he did not, and we had a nice dinner. Taking a cue from mom, I walked the way she did, and used my arms the way she did, all in an effort to convince my father that I had accepted my fate, which I guess I had. I still wanted to be a boy, but I couldn't, so why not at least try to be the girl I looked like? Two days later I was enrolled in a charm school. As much as I thought wearing a skirt might be bad, I was forced to wear a leotard and tights for all of the exercises they put me through, and nothing reveals more than a leotard, except for a bikini! How I walked, sat in a chair, picked up a book, waved my hand, and more, all became part of the rigorous schedule I was assigned to. Every night all I wanted to do was take a long hot bath and flop into bed! But slowly, day after day, without me being even conscious of it, the lessons began to take hold, and not only my mannerisms, but how I spoke all began to change. Learning how to dress as a girl sounded easy, just cover your body right? Well, no. What you wear also had an impact on how you did things, like how you hold your hands, used your arms and so on. A ball gown was different from a miniskirt which was different from a pair of jeans. You can lounge around in jeans for example. You can't in a gown. You have the option to sit down differently in a gown rather than a miniskirt. Decorum was stressed a lot, as in how to shake someone's hand, or stand in a line greeting people. What to wear, and when, was only the tip of the iceberg, and I was required to learn a different set of rules for each, then tested rigorously! How to wear something was more important. Being "ladylike," was a prime consideration in that class. At every step, the school managed to make me not only do those things, but caused me to accept them as well. I finally graduated to the top class where learning how to do hair, nails and makeup became the only criteria. Learning how to do my hair in various ways was very hard for me, but under their constant pressure to learn, I managed well enough to finally gain their acceptance. Makeup was only a bit easier, because all of us use makeup determined by our own natural coloring and what works best for us. There were no clear guidelines to follow, they just helped us find the right path. It was during the last few weeks of classes that they had me start wearing things I wouldn't even consider before. Like a swimsuit. Not unlike a leotard, the one piece was okay, it was that bikini they insisted I wear that threw me. At each step along the way I was tested and retested to make sure that I knew what to do and when, how I presented myself and so on. During those weeks at the school, life at home changed only a bit, and other than wearing a skirt or dress every day, not much else changed. The changes I was undergoing each day were so slight, that my general progression to using feminine gestures went almost unnoticed. Except that I had started to "blossom" as mom put it. My hips had started filling out a little, and the tenderness in my breasts was waning because I had enough breast growth of my own to get along without those saline filled sacs. The doctor took them out in less than an hour, leaving me with the same A cup. Other than having skin that was hairless, smooth, and soft, a girls voice, my own boobs, and what looked like a snatch, I was a normal boy. By the time school started in the fall, Those very aggressive hormones the doctor put me on had forced my body into a fully developed female form, with a 36B-24-36 figure, my hair was shoulder length, and I had become as much a girl as any other in the school, maybe even better in a few cases. My time in the charm school had given me the skills, so my makeup was always perfect, as was my hair, and my ability to select what I was going to wear, and when, was always first rate. No longer struggling with what I had become, I was actually looking forward to starting school. It was lonely staying at home, with only my mother with the class work, and the charm school as my only outlets. Becoming a coed in a school that I had previously attended as a boy wasn't the least bit scary because I looked nothing like a boy in any way, and nothing at all like the old me. The Principal was more than a bit shocked when I appeared in his office for reinstatement; the thin white blouse tight against my breasts led to a very short, pleated tan and white skirt and low tan flats. He told us he would refuse to admit me under my boy name, so he changed the records to reflect the new me, and I started classes. My expectation of being able to refuse to date became a drudge when, after a few months of staying home, and seeing my friends all dating, I finally accepted a date, what seemed like the last turning point in my personal acceptance of myself. I found myself in a group of girls that were, in high school vernacular, the "A babes" and like the rest of them, tried out to be a cheerleader, and I made it! It was then that I found out all about high school girls. None of my friends were virgins, well maybe technically they were, but all of them "took care" of their guys in one way or another, and being a part of that group, especially as a cheerleader, I was forced to considered "taking care" of my guy. Nathan was a good guy, and we had been dating for over four months. We had gotten as far as his hand in my bra, and I had touched him once or twice, but the time was growing closer, when I would have to do more for him. That day eventually came, and like any girl I knew, I helped him find relief. It wasn't that bad, and I thought nothing of it. He was a guy and I was a girl, so why worry? By then I knew that my dreams of returning to being a boy were long gone, and nothing could return me to my former status, even if I wanted to, which I knew I didn't. I had come to like being a girl and everything that meant, and only wished that I could be more of a woman for Nathan, but that had to wait until I graduated. My punishment turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. By the way, my father now tells everyone that I'm his Princess. I guess he's finally come around.