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Evan By Virginia Kane Standard caveat applies. Please do not post onto any other website without express written permission of the authoress. If reading explicit adult fiction is illegal where you live, or if you have not yet reached adulthood where you live, read no further and go do something innocent and constructive. 1. My name is Evan Light, but almost no one calls me Van. I'm almost twenty years old and not very lucky, because I still have neither - a good job or a steady girlfriend. I've had one good job since I finished high school, but the firm shut down its branch in town and I chose to not relocate to a division out of state to save my job because of family issues. I live with my widowed mom who is a head nurse at the local hospital and her much younger sister-in-law, my late dad's kid sister who is maybe ten years older than me. I'm actively looking for another job without any luck. It's only been eight weeks since the plant closed and I stopped working. My mom is considered very good looking. The eligible men in town seek dates with her once they learn she's "unattached", but she isn't interested in a relationship with a man, so she always begs off. I fully understand why all men want to pursue her. I too would sure like a good looking girlfriend, but a modern, independent woman like my mom wants a man who is reliable and dependable - someone stable. Guys on the prowl with nothing but sex on their minds just don't measure up to her demanding criteria. They're all interested in self-centered, physical gratification. It may seem wrong of me to talk about my chasing women and men around town chasing after my mom in the same sentence, but it's the truth. She's a good-looking woman. She'd rather the men in town showed interest in my aunt, my dad's kid sister who unfortunately isn't anywhere near as pretty as my mom. My mom's younger sister-in-law suddenly became very ill, so my mom took some a leave of absence from her job to devote to my aunt's health problem. Anyway, that was another good reason I couldn't accept a transfer to another branch office with my former employer. I agreed to help my mom by taking up the slack at home doing more of the household chores so she could spend time with my ailing Aunt Clare. Well, mom sort of insisted on my helping out, because my aunt was working for a Mr. Trent, a rich, influential man in our town for many years. Your aunt Clare has been his housekeeper and his bookkeeper and until just recently, and she acted as a governess to his two young adult sons. She has been employed there for as long as I can recall. Mr. Trent's sons are close to my age, so I sometimes wonder if the two ever chased my aunt around the estate, trying to get lucky. If Aunt Clare wasn't related to me by blood I might have considered chasing after her myself. There aren't too many young women available in town to choose from. I know the elder Mr. Trent has been hotly pursuing my mom for some time with similar intentions, but she told me time and again that she has no desire to replace my deceased dad, bless his soul, with a lesser man, (lesser? That's a matter of opinion. Mr. Trent is loaded!) My dad had supposedly died in combat during the Mid-East conflict when I was still a toddler and he left my mom and me with a small military widow's pension and nothing more. Before my aunt was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, my mom went over to the Trent's mansion to replace my aunt Clare, but it's beneath her. My mom is the head nurse for internal medicine at the biggest hospital in town. Mr. Trent is one of the biggest employers in town, so he has enough influence to "borrow" staff from the other influential business leaders in our town when he feels it's necessary to keep his life running smoothly. Since I wasn't gainfully employed at the time, my mom volunteered me to handle some of my aunt's responsibilities at the Trent mansion, claiming they could be done by me as easily as by her. Seeing as I'd be home alone at our house with not much to do, I could fend for myself, keeping our house tidy, doing the laundry and cooking my meals for as long as my mom was needed at their much bigger place. Where I'd spend my spare time was of little consequence, she claimed. With me helping her there, she'd be able to handle more work load at the clinic, helping out at her regular job. I wasn't too eager to be a stop-gap, fill-in gopher at the Trent mansion, but I didn't want to irritate my mom by declining, either. So I was soon spending a lot of my free time every day over there doing household chores instead of caring for our small, two- bedroom house, which is a snap to do by comparison. It turned out my assigned tasks over there were easy. Mister big bucks and his two adult sons were gone most of the day, so they didn't know or care how much time it took me to wash, dry, and fold their laundry. Their shirts were all 'wash and wear'; and drip dry. All their Pants needed cleaning and pressing so the pants went to the cleaners. They do a much better job. The only task I considered unpleasant was laundering their --- uh, underwear and smelly socks. Otherwise, I didn't mind helping out my mom, at all. Mom did all the food prep and cooking, just as she did for the three of us at home. Cooking for six instead of three took a little more of her time, but not a whole lot more. She delegated some of the table setting and dish washing to me, to justify my spending the entire day there. Of course, she suggested that I do the housework as well, like the dusting and vacuuming, to fill my day, things that my aunt Clare usually did besides the bookkeeping. I didn't exactly enjoy cleaning up such a sizable home as theirs. What I didn't like most was cleaning up the bathrooms after three men who were slobs, compared to me. They'd drop the towels and robes onto the floor wherever they used them, as if it was normal adult behavior. I always picked up after myself. I guess being rich enables people to expect others to pick up after them. If my mom hadn't begged me to cool my heels, I might have said something rash about their habits to them that I'd later regret. While I served Mr. Trent his dinner one evening, he asked what I eventually planned to do for a living, knowing the town's only other principle employer closed down the plant and left town. He was hinting that my options in our small town were limited, with him being the most likely employer available to go to for a job unless I wanted to work somewhere as a retail clerk. "Well," I told him, "I hope to get a degree in Information Technology, but there isn't much need for a novice like me in your business. You outsource all your I.T. needs, from what I gleaned from your human relations chief, as does the hospital here in town. I suppose that I'll have to relocate to a larger metropolitan area to find gainful employment in I.T., sir, perhaps with a big company like the one that handles your needs: an outside vendor." "That's one option, but there is another alternative available for you here in town. It isn't absolutely necessary for you to rush off and relocate right way. You might want to save up a tidy nest egg to live on before you leave town, until you secure a real promising position in your chosen field of endeavor." "Yeah, I'd like that." I said, wistfully. "I am a bit short on funds. I'll attend college on a government benefit program for children of deceased veterans. Otherwise, my mom and I couldn't afford my college education." "Oh, I didn't know that. Perhaps I could be of help to you, Evan." "I received a scholarship because my dad's served during the Middle-East conflict. Without it, I wouldn't be able to attend college. Incidental costs will clean out our cash reserves, and my mom will have to remortgage the house just to make ends meet, even with my aunt working here." "I wish I could use you over at the plant, but unfortunately, I'm not in charge of that end of running the business, Evan. I have an excellent H.R. manager. I can't just butt in and usurp his authority. I have asked him if he could hire you at the plant, but to no avail. When that other big employer left town, he left a glut of unemployed individuals. I had my man in H.R. hire as many workers as I could, which is why there isn't any jobs available presently. "However, there is a way for you to increase your income here, though." "Oh, how would that be, sir?" "Your aunt spent a lot of her time doing bookwork here at the estate. If you were to relieve here of those duties, she wouldn't have the pressure she was under, which I feel contributed to her current health problems. If you could do that work instead, I'll double your current rate of pay." "But, I'm not a bookkeeper, sir. I took a few bookkeeping courses in high school, but I doubt if I could handle a full set of books all on my own." "You won't need to do it on your own. My son: Joe holds an associate's degree in accounting. He can help you, I'm sure, and teach you what you don't already know. If you can do this for me successfully, I'm sure the task can later evolve into a full-time employment opportunity with full benefits once your aunt recovers from what is ailing her. "I know for a fact that your darling aunt had kept taking on more and more responsibilities until she was totally overwhelmed. Anyone would be. The load creeps up gradually until it's more than anyone can handle. I want to help her by handing off that part of her responsibilities here, permanently." "If Joe's an accountant, why don't you have him do the bookkeeping?" "Between you and me, unlike his older brother Tom, Joseph is an introvert. Besides that, he's about as bashful as a person can be. Now, if you were to work alongside him, and you two become more cordial, perhaps he'll take a liking to you and he'll help you resolve any difficulties you may have with the books. Joe's very intelligent. I'm sure if you try, you can convince him to resume attending business management courses toward a degree. "I don't see Joe being well suited for an accounting profession. But, -- - please, keep this to yourself. I don't want him to think he made a bad career choice, not just yet. I'd like him to study investment strategies to improve his ability to handle our financial matters better. I tried to tell him he didn't need to be an accountant to handle our investments, but he doesn't agree. Oh, well. He insists the one profession is needed to be able to do well at the other. Now, I ask you to please keep the following to yourself: Joe hasn't sat for the CPA exam. He's afraid he won't pass. He lacks self-confidence." "Oh, I see." "Yes, he gets cold feet about doing a lot of things. The CPA exam isn't an easy exam to pass. He excelled all his college courses, and then, at the last minute, he dropped out and didn't sign up for taking the exam. The same thing happened with his first inspiration. He wanted to be a masseur, of all things. He was too shy to provide the close physical contact required. I wish there was something I could do to encourage him to be more assertive. Maybe you can help in that regard. You're close in age to Joe. Maybe you can instill some self-confidence in him by using some peer influence. "Just be friendly toward Joe. You're a self-starter. If you'll just act your normal self, I'm sure some of your self-confidence will rub off." "Thanks for the compliment, but I don't think I have much self- confidence. I can't just ask him to help me. How should I approach him on the matter?" "Leave that to me. For now, why don't you look into what your aunt was doing with the household's bills to see if you understand her bookkeeping hieroglyphics? In the meantime, I'll tell Joe what you're hoping to achieve and ask him to lend a hand. That'll open communications nicely, I think." 2. I tentatively agreed to consider what Mr. Trent had asked me to do. If I had refused, he might get someone else to do it instead, which might jeopardize my aunt's long-term position. To be on the safe side, I called up my mom to tell her about Mr. Trent's offer. She felt it'd be better for her to discuss it with my ailing aunt first when she goes to visit her." My aunt advised my mom that she was way behind in the bookwork and she would love to have me take it over. With her approval, once I checked into what was involved, I found keeping a complete set of books was far beyond what I'd remembered from my bookkeeping courses in high school. I knew a lot of basics and how to follow a spread sheet like the ones my aunt prepared to track the different expenses by category, but I had no idea how to set up recording the income or how to identify or record any non-cash expenses like annually paid bills like the real estate taxes and income taxes. It takes a real accountant like Joe to understand the rules about calculating depreciation, --- so I needed Joe's help. When I approached him, he agreed to help me set up the depositing and recording of income, but then said that I'd only need to copy what my aunt had done with the annual expenses. He said, "Go over the most recent spread sheets that your aunt prepared to get used to which vendors get classified into which expense accounts until you're familiar with all of them. That will take a while. If you want, I'll ask my dad if you can move your personal belongings into your aunt's suite of rooms instead of the small guest room you're sleeping in for the time being, until your aunt returns. It will be easier for you to access the computer desk where you'll spend a lot of your time learning how to do the books." My aunt might not be what I considered a pretty woman, like my mom, but she's is ultra-feminine. Her digs clearly reflected her taste for elegance. I'm not much of a Mr. Macho, but I still didn't want to stay in a bedroom suite that reflected so much --- femininity. However, I also didn't want to boldly say no to Joe about moving into my aunt's rooms, because he might resent it, so I bit my tongue and went along and told him I'd do it, planning to discuss the move with my mom, soon as I could, to make sure my moving my stuff into my aunt's quarters temporarily wouldn't cause a riff with my aunt. My mom told me to not worry. She told me that my Aunt Clare was likely going to be at the clinic for some time to come. 3. "I hadn't been aware that her condition was that critical. She seemed fine to me when I'd visited her last. I was about to ask my mom about her condition when she gave me that certain look, as if to tell me to just 'do it' and make any d?cor changes I'd like after I was sure of my liking her rooms. I moved in some of my personal stuff that day: two large boxes of casual clothes and my laptop. I'd left just about everything else I owned back at our house. Surprisingly, I slept soundly beneath my aunt's satin sheets that first night. I'd no idea how luxurious satin sheets would feel. I must have slept through my alarm clock setting because late in the morning, well after nine o'clock, Joe came by to check on how I was managing with the bookwork. He had caught me still in bed, listening to dreamy sounding music coming from the clock radio perched next to the bed on the nightstand. He turned off the soft elevator music and sat down on the edge of the bed right next to me, as if he had a right to do so, surprising me. His eyes widened and he smiled coyly when I sat up quickly, because I was sleeping in the nude. I'd forgotten to bring my pajamas. When the silky satin sheets fell away, he stared at my bare chest for a lingering moment, making me feel nervous. "Look at the time. I should have been up hours ago," I said. Joe replied, "I stopped by earlier and saw how soundly you were sleeping while your alarm was going off. I shut it off to let you sleep late. You were working on the books well into the evening last night, so I let you get more rest this morning. You'll feel fresher when you resume working after having a healthy breakfast." But, it's half past nine! Half of the morning will be gone by then!" "No matter, once you had your breakfast, you can again concentrate on getting the household books up to date, I'm sure you won't have to worry over completing any of your other household chores for a while." "It matters to me, Joe. I only agreed to work here at your estate to lend my mom a hand when she asked. Then, at your dad's urging, I agreed to add the book work to my daily responsibilities, but not if I have to neglect helping my mom out, like I intended to do originally. I don't want her to fall ill from taking on too much like my Aunt Clare did!" "So, now you're lending your aunt a hand instead of your mom. Which do you think is more important to my dad, your learning how to do the books or cleaning bathrooms? If need be, we'll get a service to clean the bathrooms." "What I think is more important doesn't matter. Nor does how I feel about doing either one. I'm neither a bookkeeper nor a chamber maid, so what I'm doing isn't something I choose to do. I'm doing it to help my mom, Joe." "What if I told you that your mom is helping here to please my dad? He's been after her to join your aunt as a member of our household for ages." "I know, but my mom isn't interested in a relationship with your dad or with any man. She has nothing against your dad; personally, it's just that she still has her hopes of my dad returning home someday. You know, my dad is still listed as an M.I.A. The army never did determine what had happened to him. His remains weren't identifiable in the Humvee with the other three soldiers assigned to it. He seemed to have vanished into thin air. All they know for sure is that his Humvee was found burnt out. It received a direct fit from a shoulder mounted missile. The Four soldiers assigned to the vehicle were supposed to be inside, but only the unidentifiable charred remains of three were found in it. My mom feels my dad may have left the vehicle for some reason and had survived. We still don't know for sure what happened. " "That happened close to twenty years ago! What are the chances of him turning up this late in the game? Nil! Your mom is still a beautiful, vibrant woman. She deserves to enjoy life a little. My dad is more than willing to bend over backwards to meet any demands she may have." "Everything except the one thing she would insist on: marriage. As long as there is a chance that my dad is still alive, she won't remarry." "Well, my dad won't demand that she marry him. If they do marry, he'll ask her to sign a prenuptial so Tom and I wouldn't lose our rightful inheritance. Of course, he'd set up a separate trust fund for her, to make sure she'd never have to work again for as long as she lives. Since your mom is somewhat younger than my dad, she'll probably outlast him by years. I don't resent her having a comfortable future, but a half of my dad's net worth is a lot more than she'll ever need. Then, she'd probably leave it all to you when she passes on, and that's something I don't cherish risking." "Ah, you'd deprive me of what she would believe is rightfully mine, then?" "No, no, it isn't that at all. If his net worth continues to grow, my brother and I would inherit half of it, while your mom gets the other half, by law in this state, unless a prenuptial agreement states otherwise. Then, someday you'd get twice as much as what my brother and I would get! I doubt if your mom would want to leave a part of my dad's fortune to her two stepsons instead of leaving it to you, her only child. How do you believe she'd make out her last will and testament?" "Knowing my mom, she'd probably want to leave part of it to my aunt, her sister-in-law." "Didn't you know? Your aunt has agreed to join my family. She has recently granted her hand to my older brother Tom. Your mom won't have to worry about Clare's welfare any more, once your aunt and my brother get married" "My aunt is going to marry your brother? I had no idea! When did this come about?" "She granted her consent a few weeks back and she's preparing for the grand event right now. That's why she's at the clinic: to get some minor cosmetic surgeries. She plans to marry Tom as soon as the doctors give her clearance to leave the clinic. Maybe she's going to get a 'boob job' to please Tom. Who knows? I don't, but I know that's why she's there." "Really, the way she rants on about men, I didn't think she'd ever want to get married. I still can't believe she's marrying your brother. Are you sure? She's finally conceding, eh? How did your brother convince her to put her reservations aside? I can plainly see her wanting someone like your brother. I understand that he is a 'great catch'. He has quite a reputation." "If you're referring to him being a ladies man, you're right. Half the young eligible women in town, the gold-diggers, were all actively pursuing him." "I also hear around town the other half of the ladies of our town are after you to tie the knot. Do you have any current prospects in mind?" "Yes, but I assure you my prerequisites are very different from the Tom's. "You should become completely familiar with your aunt's previous months' spreadsheets, so you can take over from where she had left off. My brother is going to keep your aunt preoccupied for some time, and I do not desire to inherit the position. I'll help you as much as I can, so you can do it. You'll make yourself invaluable to my dad and thereby relieve me of the problem at the same time. Now, he wants me to do financial investment counselling!" "I imagine once my aunt is released from the clinic, your big brother will want to take her on a long honeymoon. If so, she won't be able to resume doing the household's books for some time, and I'll get stuck with it." Joe placed his hand on my knee closer to him, which was still under the silk sheet "You could do worse." He was still sitting down on the edge of my bed. I was wondering why he didn't get up after he learned that I was awake. I didn't want to get out of bed stark naked in his presence, but didn't know of any polite way to tell him to excuse me while I got decent. I also didn't know why I was self-conscious about another guy seeing me naked. I took many a shower in the common shower room back in high school. I looked down at his hand on my knee and then up to his face. He blushed slightly, and then he slowly removed his hand. I don't know why, but for a second, I didn't want him to remove it. I don't know why, but a slight thrill went through me from feeling his warm hand on my raised knee. He then stood up and looked down to me. "I'll leave, so you can get dressed. How soon will you want to go over transactions you'd like me to clarify?" "Oh, you night as well give me at least three hours from now, perhaps more. I'd like to shower and have something to eat before I sit down to tackle the books again." A soft voice in my head said: He's a real hunk. Any girl could do well to land him for a mate! As he retreated from my bedroom, closing the door behind him, I shrugged it off. "Too bad, I'm not a girl." I mouthed aloud. Then, I looked down at my chest and wondered why Joe thought my aunt needed a 'boob job'. She wasn't flat chested, like me. As I showered, I pondered what Joe said about my aunt getting married to his older brother. I wanted to discuss what he said with my mom. She hadn't mentioned anything, and my mom usually tells me about most everything. If she was around the estate, I'd simply ask her why. If she wasn't, I'd seek her out at the clinic or the hospital. Fortunately, she was at the mansion having lunch with the senior Mr. Trent on the terrace. As soon as I arrived, we all exchanged pleasantries, and I told my mom what Joe had said to me about my aunt Clare and Tom Trent getting married. They both seemed reluctant to respond. Mom said, "Well, they aren't really getting married just yet, son. They're going to live together for a while, to acclimate to one another, once she is released from the clinic. If she adapts well to sharing a relationship with a virile younger man, then they'll tie the knot officially and make their relationship more permanent. " "Why doesn't Aunt Clare just marry Mr. Trent's son and be done with it like a normal person would do? She's not getting any younger, Mom. She must be close to thirty five by now. That's a few years beyond a normal marrying age as it is. Isn't it?" She stood up and began to pace. "I've been meaning to tell you something about her for some time now, Evan, but somehow the time was never right or someone or something interrupted my train of thought, so I wasn't able to bring up the subject. She isn't your real Aunt Claire. Your real Aunt Claire is down in Texas, living with your paternal grandparents." "If she's not my real aunt, who is she, and why did you keep this from me?" "Mind your manners, son! It's a long story, so you might as well pour us all some more coffee. I want Mr. Trent to hear what I have to say at the same time, so the both of you can understand what Clare has been through. From her looks and how she comports herself, she acts more like a man than like a woman. Why? The reason is tragic and was totally unasked for by Clare. It was bought upon her by an act of war by extremely despicable people. "She was in the military during the Middle East crisis, same as your father. While on a patrol, your dad's armored patrol vehicle was struck by a rocket that instantly killed three of the four occupants of his Humvee. Clare wasn't assigned to that mission supposedly, so she wasn't aware one of the soldiers had left the supposed safety of the armored vehicle to reconnoiter a building within the area they were patrolling when the Humvee went up in flames. Clare had heard about it and, took the news pretty badly when she found out, and she was injured herself during another offensive, supposedly. "She was struck by debris from the explosion of an IUD, which knocked her unconscious, so she was told later on by the enemy's field doctors who had treated her. She also was burned by flaming gasoline. Fortunately, it was a flash fire, so she didn't incur any severe third degree burns. Her head, facial features and her hands incurred the worst damage. Her flak vest, her fatigues and her helmet protected most of her from the searing flames. "Local civilians tended to her at the scene and stripped away her uniform and stopped most of the serious bleeding before any paramedics arrived to whisk her away to an enemy medical facility where they could properly assess the extent of her injuries. "She woke up months later in a hospital run by opposing forces. The staff and authorities had no idea who she was, and neither did she at the time. They didn't even know how she survived, just where it occurred and what caused the explosion. All they knew was a large piece of shrapnel deformed one of her breasts and another pierced her abdomen. She suffered second degree burns to her hands, face and head, as well. She was of no help to the medical staff because she'd lost her memory from the trauma of the incident. The attending psychiatrist wasn't able to question her about the incident at all. Her mind was a total blank for some time afterwards. "It took several weeks in recovery before she could form words intelligently to carry on a simple conversation. When they asked if she was a combatant, she became frantic and had to be sedated. In time, the hospital's staff found it was wiser to not question her, because she felt physically disfigured. She must have suffered internal injuries too because she lacked adequate female hormone production which affected her outward appearance. Her forehead lacks hair follicles. She's bald as a male which affects her self-perception. Her burns didn't disfigure her facial features enough to need reconstruction thanks to the care she received at the scene, but she'd never be thought of as a gorgeous looking woman again. "She was later positively identified through her DNA. The military didn't have a record of her DNA prior to the incident, but their diligence paid off because they eventually identified her through the military's dental records. That's how they learned who she is, or I should say: who she once was. "I discovered her while doing some snooping in hope of finding out what had happened to your dad. "I learned that she and your father must have been having an affair for well over a year. By the time she was positively identified, her mind refused to accept who she once was. Her memory prior to the incident in which she was injured is still mostly a mystery to her. She really tries to remember things, but each time I try to uncover a new snippet of her early life with the expert guidance of a government psychiatrist, she shuts down and goes into a deep funk for days at a time. The psychiatrist felt she may eventual recall more and more of her past life in time, but her guilt over her surviving when so many others did not will probably prevent her from ever recovering her memory completely. Her traumatized mind simply won't accept it." "Wow, if it's true, why didn't you tell me, so I could help? Why did you keep something so important a total secret from me?" "It took the government's psychiatrist months to convince Clare she could resume a normal existence outside the confines of a mental facility. Since I had been making repeated inquiries about your dad, when it happened, the government contacted me to determine if I'd be willing to accept her into my care, since I'm a qualified trauma nurse. If I wasn't willing, they wouldn't have released her. Somehow, I felt a kinship with her, and I still do. "As it was, I had to adhere to stringent rules to even get to see her. I loved my husband so much, I accepted her as if she was my sister-in-law, even if she and your father may have shared a bed with when he was in the military. I did exactly what the government's psychiatrist recommended. He didn't believe introducing you to her as your father's only son was a prudent step forward at the time, even if I knew I would have to tell you, eventually. "It's been eight years since she's come to live with us as a woman, and she still isn't aware that I was once her stateside wife. Would it help or do more harm to confront her, to tell her that he had a son with me? The psychiatrist felt it was best to not introduce you to her as his son. It was difficult enough to present you to her as her nephew and not as my son. She doesn't even know your dad and I were married before she had met him." 'But, you could have told me! My mind isn't a blank!" At this point the elder Mr. Trent excused himself, got up and left us. "Why would I cause you to suffer, child? If I did tell you, you might have upset Clare needlessly, inadvertently causing her to regress. Instead she's been successfully running the Trent household almost singlehandedly. "Son, can you imagine how hard it was for me to lose the man that I married and vowed to love honor and obey for as long as we both shall live? What good would it do to have you lose your respect for your dad if you knew he was a sex slave in some godforsaken brothel? What good would it do to tell you I've invited a transwoman who was lost in the military to live with us? "Then, why are you telling me now?" "Your dad's parents and your real aunt Clara want to attend the wedding, if and when it will take place. They know all about what happened to Clare in the Middle East and her involvement with your late dad, and have promised to not challenge her decision to assume your real aunt's identity. "They've stayed away for these past years to abide by the opinion from the psychiatrist in charge of the case at the hospital where she was staying until she was released to us. Your grandparents accepted my offer to have her be treated as a cherished member of the family. "I never mentioned this to you before, because it would difficult for you to understand, but my marriage to your father ended seven years after he was listed as missing in action, legally. If I want, I could have had the marriage set aside, annulled. For his sake, I chose to let it stand. That doesn't mean I don't love your father any less than I did the day we were married. In fact, I love him even more now, knowing how he must have suffered out there. "Clare's confused and troubled mind still refuses to accept that she was once much different looking than she is now. She believes she was always as she appears now: somewhat garish looking. My every attempt to inform Clare of her past only resulted in regression. If she is content living as a sexy looking woman, why should you, or I, or anyone else interfere? She was satisfied with her lewd appearance --- up until now. "The only difference between Clare and all the other women of the world is some minor cosmetic procedures, what Clare believes she wants corrected. "Her body finally produces sufficient estrogen to soften up her features to a level that is considered normal. "Perhaps a few changes in her appearance will allow her to accept a man considering her to be attractive and sexually appealing. Up until recently, she's been a virtual recluse due to her lack of self-esteem. Tom's recent proposal of marriage sparked a burning desire within her. Hopefully, this may lead to a total recovery for her someday. I sincerely hope so." "You always told me she's been a binding link to your clinging to the hope that dad will return to us someday. Have you decided to give up all hope of his ever returning? Well, let me tell you, I haven't; not yet, mom." "We need to move on, son. I guess we'd best wait and see. Won't we?" "When Clare leaves us to live with Tom Trent, are you going to be alright?" "I don't rightly know, for sure, but it's time I gave some thought to my own future. Nothing would please me more than having your dad return to us, but it doesn't seem likely any more, I assure you, but in the meantime Clare has fallen deeply in love with Tommy Trent and she wants to make him happy. Let's concentrate on helping her decide how to accomplish that now, son." "Why? You just said Clare should be the only one to decide how to live her life, not you, nor me nor anyone else. I'd rather think about my own future happiness, too. I don't want to be stuck in a dead end job for the rest of my life. If I don't find a good job in our town very soon, I'm going to head out for one of the big cities where good I.T. jobs are plentiful. If I don't do it soon, I'll probably regret it for the rest of my life. I sure don't want to end up being the elder Mr. Trent's bookkeeper for who knows how long! What will you do once I leave for greener pastures, mom? You should stop worrying so much about Aunt Clare and think more about your own future." "I have been, son! I've been giving it a lot of thought lately. Maybe it's time for me to make a major change, too. If you're leaving town to find a good job, and Clare gets married to Tom Trent, I'll be all alone, unless ------" "Unless what?" "The senior Mr. Trent here has been dropping subtle hints about -----" "NO! Joe mentioned something like that. He said his dad wants you to be his mistress. Would you really want to 'shack up' with someone, mom?" "Watch your language young man! "What Joe told me was that you and the elder Mr. Trent probably won't be getting married, and that Mr. Trent just wants you to live with him as his, --- you know, as an unmarried couple." "What do you take me for, son? No! I absolutely will not ever 'shack up' with him or with anyone else! If I ever was inclined to want to enjoy carnal love again, don't you think I'd have done it by now, and a long time ago? Your father would never forgive me if he learned you even ---" "I wasn't suggesting you do anything, mom. What you do is your business. Look at it this way. Let's assume you decide to get married instead of Clare. If you want to resume an active sex life with somebody new, do I have any right to interfere with your decision? Would anyone have the right? Don't answer! Just think about it. You have the right to do what you think is best, and live with the consequences of your decision." "Hah! You weren't suggesting, you say. If not, why did you mention it?" "If you get married to the elder Mr. Trent, Joe fears you'll get of half of his and Tom's rightful inheritance when his dad checks out because he's much older than you are. He talked about a pre-nuptial agreement so I don't end up with half of his dad's estate someday while he and Tom will only get to share the other half between the two of them. " The elder Mr. Trent had been just inside the house, listening to us all of this time and he finally came back in and said something. "I'm the one who'll get cheated, not you or my sons. It's true that I'm somewhat older than your mom, so I'll probably check out sooner than she will. My health is good, so I don't anticipate that will occur any time soon, but one can never know. Even so, there are no iron-clad guarantees in anyone's longevity. "That means when I do check out, I'll lose it all, everything I've developed and slaved over for the last three decades. My son Joe has a lot of nerve, and so do you, talking about my net worth as if you kids have it coming to you by way of a birthright. You had better walk softly because I could leave the bulk of my estate to charity. You might end up with a pre-determined trust fund based on your sense of respect and honor for me in appreciation for the degree of joy you may or may not bring me in the coming years." Then he added somberly, "I admit that I'm very fond of your mom, Evan. In consideration of my feelings for her, I might even be inclined to include you in my will, but don't think you have any right to it for even one minute." "I meant no disrespect, sir. Honestly." My mom interrupted us. "We were talking about Clare, not me. What would Evan do if he were in Clare's place? Evan, what would you do? She won't look as sexy she once did, if you take into account the effect of the twenty years of aging, alone. With her inability to produce the essential feminizing hormones, even her brain patterns have become more masculine, according to what the psychiatrist had told me. She isn't the same person she once was. Even her modes of expression aren't very feminine now. What do you think you would do if you were a woman in a manly body, instead of a man? What would you want to do about becoming more appealing to a man? "It's not so easy to decide when it's your future we're discussing. Is it? You would still be stuck in a male body, minus a few small parts that determine how you feel towards others and how others will relate and respond to you. If all of your thought processes tell you that you should be a woman, don't you have the ultimate right to determine how to express yourself? I wonder if Clare will even be able to regain the ability to act like a natural woman again. If not, I don't believe the marriage will last. That's why she and Tom should spend some time together before they get married. Don't you agree?" "I guess I didn't consider how Aunt Clare thinks, mom. She must think like a woman inside, if hormones can affect the thought processes that much." "Consider this: she's still young enough to have a physical attraction toward someone else. With a thoroughly feminine mental outlook, would she be any more inclined to have romantic inclinations towards a man?" "Most likely, I suppose. Even that's somewhat unclear these days." "Yes, I hear there are many beta type males who are making transsexual overtures according to the news media. People with alternative views about sexual expression have become sacred cows all of a sudden. Gay men want to compete unilaterally with women for alpha males' attention by emulating womanhood altogether, maybe enough to appear more 'natural' mom." "I don't think altering the outward appearance for the benefit of others has much to do with an individual's motives, Evan. If someone 'feels' attracted to a person of the same gender, they may want to be more attractive to that particular individual, to match that individual's ideal of sexual compatibility. If you 'fell head over heels' in love with someone, wouldn't you present yourself in a manner dictated by the sexual preferences of that individual?" "I suppose so, mom. I don't know. I never thought about it." "Well, that's what your Aunt Clare is doing. She's madly in love with Tom Trent, so she is trying her best to be the epitome of Tom's sexual ideal. Who are you or I to dictate what she believes to be her destiny. Even if I was able to prevent her from doing what she thinks is right, I certainly wouldn't want to interfere with her aspirations to insure their marital happiness. "I cherished dearly my hope your dad would come home someday. Now, if I have any good sense at all, I'll set the past aside and marry a man who will be gracious and generous enough to allow me my fond memories of my first husband. If I could do that ---, maybe it's time for me to finally let go of the past, once and for all." Mr. Trent's eye opened wide and a big smile appeared on his face. "Are you now informing me that you are willing to accept my repeated proposals of marriage? Please tell me that you are. It will make my day, and I'll take back every single word I just said to your son about my leaving the bulk of my estate to charity!" "I guess I am, Max. I've sat on the fence too long. I do care for you. I have, ever since we first met, but I also had hopes of regaining my lost love." "You called me by my first name instead of saying 'sir' like you've been doing for the last umpteen years. That's music to my ears! Say it again! I want to hear you call me by my name again and again. Tell me that you'll marry me, too! Why, we can even plan a double wedding." "I'll marry you, Max. Maybe I should have conceded sooner, but I'm not prone to making rash decisions. We could plan to have a double wedding with Tommy and Clare, I suppose. I hope they wouldn't mind too much. Do you think they would?" "Hell, I get to pay the bills around here, so that should pull some weight in the matter. Shouldn't it? One thing though. I insist on separate honeymoons. Kids today are hellions! I'm not interested in any nude beaches or elaborate destinations. I'll settle for a nice, quiet moonlit mountain lake somewhere, or a traditional trip to Niagara Falls where I could have you all to myself!" She laughed, "Don't expect too much from me. I'm out of practice, you know." "You are, are you? Well, you don't have to worry too much about that issue. So am I." "Uh, can we discuss our honeymoon plans at some other time? My son is still young enough to blush, hearing others openly discuss their love life. Look at him. He's red as a beet. Do you think he's still - you know --?" "Are you suggesting that he's still ----- a virgin? It could be." He laughed. I wasn't laughing. I was embarrassed. It was unheard of, still a virgin at my age! Hell, I barely got to second base, so far, but I wasn't going to admit to that. Let them wonder about me! "Oh, you'd be surprised, mom." "Yes, I suppose I would be. When was the last time you went out on a date with a girl, Evan? You ought to team up with Joe and go out cruising on the weekends, if you don't want to end up a lonely bachelor later in life." "I've been trying mom. Girls must think I'm too timid to be a good ----" Mr. Trent interrupted me. "They'll think differently, once your mom and I are married. You'll see. My sons Joe and Tom don't seem to have trouble finding dates. Maybe going out cruising with Joe isn't a bad idea. He's a real chick magnet. I'm surprised some young lady hasn't corralled him by now." "Joe has already told me he has someone in mind that he'd like to date, so I doubt if he'd be interested in going out cruising some weekend evening with me in tow. Please don't say anything to him. I'd rather you didn't." Joe suddenly appeared at the doorway to the veranda. "What was that you were saying about me, Evan?" "I was just telling my mom and your dad me that you have a dating prospect presently in mind, so I doubted whether you'd go cruising bars with me." "Oh, is that so? Maybe our taking a night out on the town together isn't such a bad idea. You could use some excitement in your dull life." "Dull? Who said my life is dull?" "Let's hold off for a few weeks, shall we? We ought to get the bookwork up to date first, and then we can party hearty." The elder Mr. Trent then said, "Oh - the books can wait! You two ought to go out and have some fun! Soon as the word gets out that his mom and I are planning to get married, all the women in town will be a lot more interested in Evan, son. " "I want Evan to get up to speed on the bookkeeping project dad. I came to get him, if he is through having lunch with you two. What was it you just said about you two planning to get married, Dad? Did Evan's mom finally give in and consent to marrying you?" "Yes, she finally did, son. We haven't set a specific date as of yet. We were just now discussing it." "Well, congratulations are in order. I thought I'd never see the day! You're going to have two more sons soon, Mrs. Light." My mom blushed. "There's no need to be so formal, Joey. If I'm going to be your step-mom soon, you might as well address me as: 'mom'." "Does that mean Evan will be my brother?" "Yes, but since there is no direct bloodline, he's still a step-brother to you, not a real brother." "Too bad Evan isn't a girl. If she was, she'd be a step-sister to me, and I could chase her around the house teasing her like Tom and I did with Clare. I guess Tom beat me out in that foot race. Wouldn't you say?" "Is that what you think true love is all about, a foot-race?" his father asked. "No, of course not dad, you know what I mean. Guys chase after the women until the women catch them, and all that. So far, I've been lucky and haven't gotten caught. All the women around here I have dated so far seem to want the money they think I'm going to inherit someday. I'll want someone who wants me for who I am and what I am, not the dollar signs they envision on my forehead." His father asked, "Are you saying that you don't ever want to get married someday, son?" "No, dad, what I'm saying is: I will gladly marry anyone who shows more interest in me personally than what's going to be in my future bank balance someday. All that any women around this town think about is what will happen to the big fortune you've accumulated, even you. You must admit that you are more interested in your progeny than anything else." "I was just telling young Evan that I can always leave my fortune to charity and put the lot of you on a generous predetermined budget after I'm gone. Once they put a lid on my casket I won't be caring a whole lot about what follows! You can chew on that fat for a while, if you'd like, son." "You misunderstand me, dad. I don't mean to impune your concerns for what will happen after your demise. You know that Tom and I will keep the ball rolling, just the way you'd like for us to do. What concerns me is what will happen to the half of the estate that Mrs. Light will inherit. Will her son be as diligent as Tom and I? How can we be sure of that? It's too bad Evan isn't a girl. She is kind of cute, now that I think about it. I'd marry her in a heartbeat if she was a girl instead of a guy, even if she was one of those t-girls. That way, if I married her, your entire estate will surely remain intact within the family." I piped in, jokingly, "So, what's holding you back? Same sex marriages are perfectly legal in this state, kiddo. Would you like an iron-clad guarantee your dad's estate will remain intact, and within yours and your brother's control? "Since I have no other prospects at the present, I'll gladly marry you and sign away my rights to your dad's fortune. How's that? That way you'll be in control of the entire estate, you and Tom. I'm not interested in worrying about an amassed fortune. I can barely cope with the Trent household management bank account." Joe retorted, "At least the money you'd inherit won't be transferred to some gold digging wife you'd pick out if half of the estate came into your hands." "Fat chance of that happening, I haven't had a date with a likely prospect in two years. Girls aren't interested in a cold fish like me. They all want men that act like lions. Now that you mention it, if I got married, I'd always wonder if the girl of my dreams is more interested in my money than she is in me. You've opened a fine can of worms, Joe." 4. Late that night, after working on the books until late in the evening, I took a long hot bath to take the kinks out of my neck from leaning over the desk to match different months' spreadsheets. While relaxing in the tub, I gave thought to some things that were discussed during our extended luncheon. My aunt wasn't really my aunt, but she was preparing to get married to her boss's son, Tom. My mom was finally letting go of the memory of my lost dad and was planning to marry Mr. Trent, the richest man in town. I wouldn't have to worry much about leaving my mom behind to find a good job within my chosen profession in a big city if she marries him. I wouldn't have to worry about her future or mine at all. Mr. Trent had said earlier that he'd double my salary if I stuck around to do the bookkeeping for the household instead of relocating to a big city to find a good job in I.T. His son Joe said doing the housekeeping chores for them wasn't as important as my doing the bookkeeping. Hmm, that doesn't make any sense. Once the books are brought up to date, it shouldn't take anyone a lot of time to maintain them. It certainly wouldn't be a full-time position. Something screwy Joe said. He said he'd gladly marry me to preserve his dad's estate intact, if I was a girl, since I'd inherit half of the entire estate from my mom someday, and my (not so real) Aunt Clare would become a Trent once she marries Tom. If I were a girl, I'd become a Trent upon marrying Joe too, so I could see his point, but I'm not a girl, so his odd statement defies logic. As I soaked in the tub, it made me wonder what life would have been like if I were a born a girl instead of a guy. Too bad I'm not, because I really like Joe, as a guy, I mean. He is witty, intelligent, polite, and jovial. Above all that, he is dedicated to his dad, as much as a son should be. I never got a chance to be dedicated to my dad. I never even got to know him. All I have are a few memories, what my mom had told me about him, and that was sparse because she'd break up when she spoke of him. She really misses him. If I were a girl, taking a bubble bath in a lavish, oversized hot-tub would be a normal every day thing. Instead, I feel guilty because I should be taking a shower instead of enjoying a tub chock full of rich, thick, foaming bubbles caressing my delicate skin. Guys take showers, women bathe, that's what's normal. Guys aren't supposed to like having soft skin like mine, but I do. If I wash out the big tub well afterwards, no one will be able to find out that I'm a spoiled brat. Damn, I'm going to have to remember to bring over some pajamas from home so Joe won't catch me sleeping in the raw again. Those satin sheets on Clare's bed feel real nice against the body, too nice for a guy. If Joe had pulled the sheets off of me this morning, he would have observed that I was sporting an erection. When he reached down to touch my knee, he didn't realize my hard cock was right there. If he would have grabbed me an inch higher, he would have gotten a handful of hard cock! I held my breath and slid down into the churning hot water to rinse off some of the soapy foam from my hair. I wear it long like some of the country and western singers in hope of attracting a female's attention. So far, it hasn't worked. My slight beard and pale complexion make me look too docile. Girls like men with mustaches or beards because the look lean and mean, the way girls like them. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't grow a mustache, so I've never tried. I just don't have sufficient facial hair. If I don't shave my face regularly, it only looks dingy; and not remotely manly at all. I must have inherited some kind of glandular deficiency along the line. As I stepped from the tub and pulled up the stopper's lever so it would drain, I wondered if Clare would mind if I raided her dresser to find a pair of plain looking pajamas so I wouldn't get caught sleeping in the raw by Joey again. One by one, each drawer I opened contained panties and bras, all lacy. Clare must be preparing for a long honeymoon with all this sexy lingerie. Finally, I found a drawer full of pajamas. They weren't plain, as I hoped, but they'd suffice. I rummaged through the other drawers containing panties for a pair that wasn't trimmed in lace. The only plain ones I found that might fit me was beige, almost flesh toned, with a wide band along the top, meant to firmly hold in the wearer's waistline. I suddenly felt very mischievous. I sat down on the round stool by her vanity and slipped my feet inside of the panty, one foot at a time. Then I stood up to lift the tight panty up my lower torso. It was too tight down around my groin, so I pulled the panty down a bit so I could squeeze my hand into one of the leg openings to resituate my hardening penis downward and between my legs. Why did a plain looking panty making me feel so horny? Was it because the tight fitting garment is meant to be worn exclusively by a woman; and not a man? I looked into the lit mirror over her vanity and saw that the tight fitting panty hid my hardening penis well enough. Only a small lump in front showed at the very bottom. The wide waist band along the top of the panty tapered slightly and pulled in at the sides, giving me a slimmer looking waistline. I was about to take the damn thing back off, and then I reconsidered. No one would see me in it, as it would be hidden completely by the pajama set. I quickly donned the matching beige pajamas I'd chosen and discovered the bottom half was short, only covering the very top part of my thighs. The top part was short sleeved, so it left my arms almost completely bare. My intent was to cover my nakedness from Joe's view, should he come in to wake me up and catch me sleeping naked under the satin sheets again. Disgusted, I took everything back off and decided the only bed clothes Clare owned wouldn't work at all. Instead of concealing my nakedness, the sheen of the glistening silk pajamas would make me look even less manly than being buck naked, embarrassing me even more. I should have picked up the silky pajamas and heavy duty panty and placed them into the hamper, convinced it would do me no good to wear them for the night. I simply would have to make a trip over to our house to retrieve some of my own pajamas to sleep in. Instead, I left everything on the floor and went to her closet to see if it contained anything suitable for me to wear. Upon sifting through some of her wardrobe, I deemed that Clare must be a fanatic about feminine attire. All of her clothing reflected the same sexiness. I chose one diaphanous nightgown in particular and held it up against my pale, slim body. Squinting slightly, I could almost imagine what she looked like in it from gazing into the sliding mirrored door of the closet. "Damn! If I was a woman instead of a man, I'd never have to do another day's work in my life. All I'd have to do is shake my sexy booty for some horny dude and get him panting." I spun around and watched the thin gown flow around my body. I wondered out loud, "Is that's how women feel? Are men just meal tickets for women to use to their advantage?" Probably, according to the glamour magazines women buy each month. No doubt about it. Women can use their feminine wiles to lure men into providing for them. After all, how often does a good-looking woman need to please her man sexually to achieve whatever she wants, once a month or so? I then wondered out loud again" It makes a lot of sense for a woman to look as good as she can, so her man will give her anything she wants. Is that what my Aunt Clare is doing for Tom Trent?" Another voice filled the room. "In her case, it's essential." "Joey! You scared me out of my wits. What are you doing here?" "I heard voices coming from inside as I was passing your doorway, on my way to my room. I was wondering who you could be talking to at this time of night. It's close to midnight." He paused for a moment when he spotted the nightgown I was holding in my hands. "Why don't you try that gown on for size? I bet it will look good on you. Do you crossdress very often?" "No, I never, --- I was only rummaging, looking for a androgynous pajama set to wear so you wouldn't walk in on me again and think that I sleep in the nude under satin sheets all the time." "Does what I think matter to you? If it does, why does it? Put that gown on, and I'll tell you what I think. Don't you wonder how a gown like that must feel against you soft skin?" "No, I was only --- I can already feel it just by holding it against me. It isn't proper for a guy to wear something so ---sensuous." "Oh, go ahead. Put it on. Just slip it over your head and then put your arms through the sleeves. You know you want to. Does wearing a sexy nightgown scare you? Do you think maybe you'll like wearing it too much?" "Joe, I'm not a crossdresser, really. You've got to believe me. I was fooling around, that's all. I never did anything so weird before, never. You have to believe me." "It doesn't matter to me if you ever did it before or not. I don't care. Put the gown on now, for me Evan. I want to see how you'll look in it. The fact is: you look pretty good to me buck naked, almost like a girl. You don't even have any hair on your body to speak of. Have you always been so pale?" "Do you --- are you ---? We shouldn't be doing this. It isn't proper. " "Don't be shy, speak up, Eva! Am I what? Am I gay? Is that what you want to know? Whatever I am, I happen to appreciate exceptional beauty. To me you look very exceptional. Does it scare you to hear me say that? What's it like to be considered a desirable sex object?" I stepped backwards to avoid his advancing toward me, but I backed into the mirrored door of the closet, and had nowhere left to go. At the same time, he stepped forward, closing the gap between us further. "Joe, please, I'm not, --- I've never --- I don't ----" "It's time you did. Have you ever considered your trouble with getting dates with girls is because the girls you've asked view you as unfair competition? "You look too cute to be a guy, you know. "I do?" I asked sheepishly "If you didn't realize it before, it's time that you did." "I don't mean to, nor do I try to look cute. Please Joe, you're scaring me." "Why should you be afraid of me? I think you're more afraid of yourself. Come on, let that shy woman hiding deep inside of you come out. You'll never know if you have a strong feminine side if you don't let her explore the real world once in a while. What would it hurt? You may discover you prefer exploring life to the fullest over staid, traditional behavior." "What if someone should find out, like my mother, or your dad?" "Don't you think they already have opinions about your inner tendencies?" "What tendencies? They do? Why? I never --- What makes you say that?" "They're observant. They spoke of it with us earlier today. You can't hide your true nature from those who are very close to you. They all understand, and they don't judge you for being --- sensitive. You are who you are. That's all. It's not some fault that you should shirk away from. "I noticed it the first day you came over to help your mom. It's something that I like about you. Please, Eva, put the gown on. Do it for me." "But, why do you want me to? And, why are you calling me Eva?" "I want to see if there are any changes to your personality if you dress to suit your inner temperament. You're soft, almost delicate. Let's find out if your femme side flourishes when you're wearing woman's intimate attire." "That's what I'm afraid of. What if I like wearing it?" "So what if you do? What you do when you're all alone is your business." "But, I'm not alone. You're here. If I put it on, you'll laugh at me and then you'll tell my mom that you saw me wearing one of Clare's nightgowns." "I don't think so. I already could say that I caught you rummaging through her underwear and pajamas. You ought to pick up after yourself, you know. "I just tried them on and was going to pick them up, but I just hadn't gotten around to doing it yet." "You should show more respect for other peoples' property. So, you admit you've worn them already. Why'd you take them off, for goodness sake?" "The underwear was too tight and the short pajamas exposed more than they covered. I was looking for something more androgynous when you snuck up behind me and saw me holding up this nightgown. This sheer gown certainly isn't what I was looking for, though. I don't think Clare owns a single thing that might be remotely appropriate for a guy to wear." "In that case, whatever you pick out to wear tonight for tonight won't matter. You look fine with that gown held in front of you. Why don't you put it on and find out how it feels while wearing it? We both know you want to. " "I can't. It isn't proper." "If you want me to keep this a secret, just between you and me, you'd better do as I say and put it on, or I'm going to tell on you." "That's blackmail?" "That's ridiculous! Who cares what you wear to bed, except you and me? If you don't put that gown on, I'll come up and put it on you, myself. You're making too big of a deal of this. Either you're going to do it, or you're not." "Wait! Don't come any closer. I'll --- I'll put it on, but keep your distance." I began to take the gown of its hanger and gather it up put the gown over my head to go along with his demand, unwilling to let him touch me while I'm wearing something so --- revealing. Once I had it on, the diaphanous gown slipped down my naked body on its own without any help from me. "That's better. I have my cell phone with me. Would you like me to take a picture or two of you in the gown so you can see how you look in it?" "You wouldn't dare!" "No, I wouldn't. I'm not interested in embarrassing you. You can look in the mirrored door behind you and see for yourself how great you look, almost as great as a woman would look in it. How does wearing a sheer gown feel?" "Weird!" "Your hair is messed up. Go over to the vanity, sit down and comb it out so it frames your face. Part it in the middle and curl the ends under like a girl would do." "Why? I normally part it on the left side" "I want you to see something about you that I can see and you can't ---- yet." I started to brush out my messed up hair as he suggested, wondering what he saw that I didn't see. "Now, curl the ends under. Notice how your face looks more girlish now?" "No," I lied. I normally comb my hair straight back and over my ears. With my hair covering my ears instead, I did look more feminine. My erection pulsed from my seeing the apparition in the mirror before me. He was right. With a little imagination, or was it wishful thinking, a pretty girl was looking back at me from the vanity's mirror, an almost flat chested pretty girl, that is. Joe was standing right behind me, leaning over me, looking into my eyes. "Well, am I right? Do you see the pretty girl I see?" "No, I don't. You have an overactive imagination," I claimed, but I did see her. I just didn't want to admit it. "If there is any resemblance, it's one of a plain Jane. She's not very pretty from where I'm sitting." "That's because you're not wearing any cosmetics. If you'll add some color to your cheeks, and add some eyelash lengthener, with some lipstick, you'll look just like a movie starlet." "Oh, sure, now I know you're imagining things!" "Oh? Humor me. Just put on some lipstick, and you'll see what I mean." "This is stupid. It's gone far enough! I'm not putting on any lipstick!" "Afraid of what you might see?" "No, I'm just not that interested. Why are you so keen on seeing how I look dressed as a woman? Are you a tranny chaser, or something? Does seeing a guy dressed up in drag turn you on? Is that it?" It was Joe's turn to sputter and stammer. I must have hit the proverbial nail on the head. He didn't say anything, at first, and then he recovered, "You're the one holding up a nightgown against your body when I walked into the room. When I first saw you, I figured I'd feel you out to find out if you're a crossdresser. That's all. I don't really care if you are or not. It means nothing to me. I just was going with the flow to see if you were having fun, wearing one of Clare's sexy nightgowns. You do look cute as a girl, you know." "Well, I can honestly state that I'd never worn any feminine attire before, so that you know. Besides, what I saw causing a bulge sticking out in the front of your pants says you're more interested than you care to admit." "I noticed that you weren't entirely flaccid either, Evan. So, there!" "Oh! I guess we're even then, Joe. Can we stop making dumb accusations about this? It's getting us nowhere." "I'll stop if you'll admit that wearing that ultra-feminine gown excites you." "Okay, I admit that it excites me, but only because it's naughty, not because I'm into being a crossdresser. I've never done anything like this before, and I'm never going to do it again, I assure you." I started to remove the gown, "Wait! Don't." I had already pulled the gown halfway off over my head when I heard him. He wistfully admitted, "If you ever want to wear one of Clara's nightgowns again, though, tell me when you plan to do it first. "Why?" I knew why, I just wanted to hear him admit it. "I'd like to watch you put a different one on next time. I must admit: I enjoy seeing you in this one. I don't know why, but I do. If we ever do it again, it can be our little secret, just between us. What do you say, Evan?" "What? Why? You must have seen girls wearing sexy sleep attire before." "I don't know. Maybe it's because you're a guy, and guys aren't supposed to wear women's things. I can't believe how sexy you look in that gown." "You really think I look sexy?" I let the gown slip back down over my body. He smiled when he saw me put the gown back on, and came closer. I didn't shy away from him, but I don't know why. "Do I really look sexy to you?" "Yes you do, you look really sexy, but why do you ask?" "At first, you said I looked cute. Now, you say I look sexy to you. There's something else that you said earlier that bothers me: --- You said girls turned me down when I've asked them for dates because they consider me unfair competition. --- That makes me wonder. Why did you say that?" "You're so polite when you talk --- to everybody, not just to me. Something about the way you comport yourself makes you seem sexy to me. The way that you act makes you seem almost --- unapproachable. "Really, you really think so? If I do, I don't believe I do it consciously." "No, you don't, do you? I think it's inherent within you. It's your nature, and it's not something you have any control over. Whenever I'm near you, I feel nervous and I get excited. I have to control my emotions. I've never felt this romantic about anyone else before." "Romantic? I hope not, because I'm not gay. I hope you're not gay either." "No, I'm not. Maybe I don't feel romantic about you, Evan. It's emotional, but it's not romantic. I just want to be near you. Damn it, I wish you were a girl. If you were, I'd understand why I find you so interesting! Your personality is so magnetic I want to be near you all the time!" "Laugh if you'd like, but yesterday morning, after you woke me up, when I was getting out of bed after you left, I was thinking that someday you'll be a great catch for some girl. I even speculated that it's a shame I'm not a girl." "With your long hair and your soft facial features, from the neck up you look somewhat like a cute girl with or without that gown. "What I find most attractive about you: Evan is your pleasant personality; not the shape of your body. If you were a girl instead of a guy, I'd be making a move on you about now. It's a good thing you aren't a girl. It would be wrong of me to be here in your bedroom." "Is it a good thing? I mean, would you really have made a move on me if I was a girl instead of a guy?" "What can I say? I don't know what it is about you, but ever since my dad asked me to help you work on the household books, I think about you all the time. I can't get you out of my head." "That's odd. I sort of feel the same way about you, Joe." "Whew, that's reassuring. Am I glad to hear that! I was worried that you'd think badly about me if you knew how I feel. It isn't easy for me to admit that I find another guy attractive, oh, I don't mean sexually, I mean, socially! Do you think we could become closer friends or something along that line?" "I don't see why we can't. I find you to be pleasant company and you're a nice enough guy to my mom and my aunt, as long as we both understand that ours is a purely platonic relationship. Should we shake hands on it?" He took my outstretched hand and held it in both of his, and wouldn't let go. It was a bit awkward at first, but then I clasped my left hand over both of his hands and continued to hold on. We stood there for several seconds, neither of us wanting to let go, and then it happened. He pulled me close to him and kissed me right on the lips! At first the shock startled me, but then, I don't know what possessed me, but I gave in, relaxed and let him kiss me. Then, I felt his arms surround me, embracing me, as if I was a girl. Wow! For a second, I wished again that I was a girl. It seemed so right for him to be holding me tight, and kissing me like that. Finally, we broke off the kiss. "This is so wrong, Joey! We're both guys! We shouldn't have --- done that." "I'm glad we did. Sure, it's wrong, but how can it be? It seemed so right." "You simply slipped and gave in to temptation, that's all. It may seem right to you in the heat of the moment; that's all, but it isn't right." "That doesn't make you look any less enticing." He took my hand again. "I shouldn't let you see me with my long hair framing my face like a girl's, wearing one of Clare's sexy looking nightgowns and all, but you'll regret having kissed another guy tomorrow. I know that I'll regret you doing it." "What if I don't regret it? What if I'll want to kiss you again tomorrow?" "You'd better not try tomorrow. One spontaneous irreverence is enough!" "You let me kiss you and then you kissed me back. Didn't you?" "I didn't realize --- You caught me off guard. I thought you said you aren't gay. Get with it, Joey. We're two guys. Guys don't kiss unless they're gay. It's simple as that. I don't want to be gay! Do you?"" "I don't think it's that simple, Evan. I think you let me kiss you because you have an underlying feminine outlook inside a mile wide. Do me a favor. Try sleeping in a nightgown tonight, for this one night, all night long. As long as you're not flaunting your idle curiosity about feeling good in feminine finery in public, I'm betting you'll enjoy sleeping in it, and that you'll want to do it again --- and again." "That's silly. Why would I want to sleep in a frilly nightgown?" "Why? To prove I'm wrong. Wear that gown tonight and see whether you like wearing it or if wearing it all night bothers you. I'm betting you'll get a good night's sleep in it and you're wearing it to sleep in won't bother you one bit. I'll drop in and wake you up again like I did this morning. Promise me that you won't take the nightgown off. Okay? " "I still think it's silly. It's so thin and transparent; I might as well be sleeping in the nude. What if my mom comes into my room to tell me something?" "Do you really think she will? If she does, explain to her that you don't feel comfortable sleeping in the nude. "Just tell her you didn't bring any of your own pajamas with you to wear, so you used the only sleepwear available that you could find, so you wouldn't have to sleep in the nude." "What if she asks me if I like wearing nightgowns?" "Tell her the truth. Tell her you didn't expect anyone to check up on you and that you don't think it's worth a trip across town to fetch your own pajamas, as long as you have something here that's available." "My mom is sharp. What if she asks me if I prefer nightgowns to pajamas?" "Now you're looking for an excuse to get out of wearing the nightgown." "I'll be so nervous wearing it; I won't be able to get a good night's sleep." "Okay, then don't wear it! I'm only trying to prove a point." "You're using the challenge so you can stick around and gawk at me in this filmy thing for a little bit longer. Do you get a kick out of seeing me squirm while I'm wearing it? I should have taken it all the way off when I started to. Why'd you stop me?" "I didn't stop you. Why didn't you take it off if you wanted to?" "I was about to when you told me you enjoyed seeing me in it; that it would be our 'little secret'; as if we have a mysterious, unspoken pact between us. For a few moments, I had a strong urge to know more about why you enjoy seeing me, another guy doing something that he isn't supposed to do." "Was that when you slipped the nightgown back on?" "Yes." I had to be as honest as I can with him. "I can remember it vividly. It was as if we communicated without speaking. You and I were on the same wavelength. "We were? I asked. "I immediately knew that I wanted to hold hands with you. Once we were holding hands, it felt perfectly innocent and a natural thing for me to do, --- for me to feel your lips on mine --- to kiss you. I don't know why I wanted to do it. I'm not gay, and I didn't think you were, either, but kissing you like I did has nothing to do with gender preferences. If it does, it's a complete surprise to me." "You shocked me, at first, by your sudden move, but then, once you kissed me, I actually wanted you to. When you did, Joey, I wanted to kiss you right back. I guess it wasn't entirely your fault that we kissed for so long. I can't remember a more tender moment in time in my entire life." "If that's how I feel. Do you regret my having kissed you, right now?" "I don't, not exactly. It was so sudden that I didn't have a chance to stop --" "Don't get me wrong, Evan. I'm not into guys at all, and I never was, but for some reason, I want to kiss you again, when we're both aware that it's going to happen. If you don't want me to kiss you, tell me so now." I couldn't. I honestly couldn't tell him that I didn't want him to kiss me. My not responding prompted him to take me into his arms and kiss me, this time with far more fervor. I kissed back and slumped into his arms, overwhelmed with a desire to let him kiss me again and again, if he wanted to. I wouldn't have tried to initiate a kiss with him myself, but I couldn't say no to what he wanted. Something inside of me told me that it didn't matter if we are guys. When the kiss finally ended, he looked into my eyes and asked me. "Do you feel how I feel inside? I know how I feel, and I think you feel the same way, but I want to hear you say it." "All that matters to me is how we feel toward one another and I instinctively feel you have an honest devotion , a devotion that transcends social taboos, Joey. However, no matter how we may feel deep inside toward one another, if we display our feelings publicly, it'll spell disaster for us." "I certainly wouldn't want to subject you to derision of any sort. We'll have to keep it to ourselves. Like I had said before, it can be our 'little secret'." "It's no good. It won't work. Sooner or later your dad or my mom will figure it out. My mom is highly perceptive about like emotional attachments. She's sure to catch us somehow. We'd better plan for that eventuality." "Will you listen to us? We sound like we've been lovers, for cripes sake!" "Is that what we are? Are we soon to be lovers, gay lovers? I only know I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, Joey, not even my mom. Oh, I love my mom dearly, but what I feel for you is --- more intense!" "I knew how I felt about you the moment we met. How can what I believe inside be wrong if it feels so justifiable! We're going to have to deal with this, somehow." "I agree. There must be some logical explanation for how I feel about you too, Joey. I've never realized one guy could feel closely bonded to another guy before. I feel as if our lives are destined to be interconnected somehow. I'll do as you have requested and wear this gown to bed tonight. If I feel the same way toward you as I do right now, in the morning, I'll let you know." 5. I woke up in the morning feeling refreshed, knowing it isn't very wrong of me to feel how I do about Joey. I dreamt of him all night long; sweet dreams of being held in his muscular arms. Maybe he is right and I have a feminine streak inside of me I didn't know about that is aching to be free. I decided to do just that: set it free and see what happens. My most serious concern is how my mom will react to my having emotional feelings inside for Joey Trent, another guy. I must discuss my feelings about Joey with her sooner or later, and the sooner I do, the better off I'll be. I've never kept any secrets from her before, and I didn't want to start now. As if on cue, Joey showed up like he promised he would; only this time, he knocked before entering. "Come on in, Joey! I know it's you." "Were you expecting someone else?" "No, silly, you were right though, I slept soundly all night long. I guess I'm not allergic to wearing delicate nightwear after all." "I didn't think you would be, but I wanted to prove to you that the world wouldn't crack open and swallow you if you wore a see-through confection meant for a girl to bed. You look and sound well refreshed. Do you think you'll ever want to wear a nightgown to bed again?" "Ah, I don't see any point in proving you right twice, but I did have pleasant dreams last night." "Care to tell me all about them?" "No, but you were in them all, trying to pry kisses from me because I was a real girl in the dreams I had." Joey responded by saying, "Look, I want to apologize for my rash behavior last night. I sort of got carried away because of how great I thought you look in feminine finery, and all. I'm really not into having an affair with another guy though, you know. I'm strictly heterosexual. At the same time, it's nice to know that you dreamt about me last night." "I'm sorry too that we got carried away ,too. It was exciting though. But now, in the light of day, it's plain to see it was a frivolous escapade." "Sure, I hope you won't hold a grudge against me for being so adventurous." "I was as much to blame as you were, teasing you by holding up this gown up in front of me like I did. That wasn't normal behavior for a guy. Was it?" "Oh, I don't know. Who's to say what's normal these days. It's a brave new world out there. Younger people have lost all their inhibitions, it seems. I've come across some metro males who wear earrings, bracelets, and even some makeup. I saw a guy wearing heels higher than any I've ever seen on a girl." "I suppose fooling around with clothes designed for girls can be innocent enough as long as two guys don't ever become --- romantically involved." "You're right; it's okay as long as we don't become emotionally involved." He stepped back as if he was leaving. "Well, I have things to do, so I'll stop by later to see how you're doing on the bookwork this afternoon. Okay?" "Sure. What time is it? Have you had breakfast yet?" "I had a full breakfast earlier. Your mom is on the terrace by herself right now. I'm sure she'll still be there to have breakfast with you if you hurry?" "I think I will, Thanks for telling me Joey. See you later." I got dressed quick as I could and went to the terrace to see if my mom was still there. She was. "Have you had brunch yet, mom? May I join you? I slept late again, second day in a row. Joey came by to wake me both times." "Good morning, Evan. I was considering a cheese and mushroom omelet for myself, today. Care to help me make it? The elder Mr. Trent has a business luncheon to attend today. Why have you slept in so late?" "Oh, it started yesterday. Joey Trent told me he saw me sleeping through my alarm and he shut if off yesterday because I'd worked late into the evening the night before. Then, he stopped at my room last night to talk to me." "I thought Joe suggested you move into Clare's room to be closer to your newly assigned work as the bookkeeper." "That's what I meant. He stopped by Clare's room to see how I was doing." "It's a lot bigger than your room back at home or the guest room you were staying in at the Trent mansion before. Do you like Clare's lavish suite?" "I absolutely adore it! It has a whirlpool bath tub in it that made bubbles so high and thick, they tickled my neck. Its queen sized bed is so comfortable. Aunt Clare has a mirrored door closet that runs at least twenty feet along one wall, and it's full of her clothes. I don't have half as much clothes she has." "Women need more clothes than men, Evan. Did Joey walk in on you when you were taking a bath or afterwards?" "I was done with taking a bath by then. I was looking for something to wear to sleep in. I'd forgotten to bring any pajamas from home. I forgot all about my pajamas because I was thinking more about how I can help you while Aunt Clare is in the hospital. I'd like cut-up spinach and feta cheese in my omelet, mom. If you crack open the eggs, I'll prepare the other ingredients. What kind of cheese do you want?" "I'll have spinach and feta cheese, too, with thin slice mushrooms. What did you find in Clare's closet to wear, and what you have on when Joey visited you last night, Evan?" "I had a towel wrapped around me when he first arrived, mom. That's what I want to talk to you about. You see, he saw me holding up a sheer nightgown. I was only admiring it, but he jokingly asked me if I was going to wear it." "Were you?" "I wasn't planning on it, but he challenged me to wear it, claiming I was too timid to be so bold. I didn't want him to think I was a wimp, so I put it on." "Uh-huh. So, you put on one of Clare's nighties? Did you? Did the two of you clowns have a good laugh? It wasn't very nice of you, you know, son." "We didn't laugh exactly, mom. It was see through and very short. It didn't even cover my legs and it showed more of my arms than it covered. He said I looked cute in it, which embarrassed me. When I was taking it off in a huff, he apologized, claimed he wasn't mocking me, and insisted I leave it on" "So, what did you do then?" "I put it back on, but I told Joey I thought he was imagining things." "Joey, Huh! Maybe he was imagining things; maybe not. You're aware that you do have a nice, clear complexion for a guy. With a little effort you could look quite lovely, if you wanted to. I don't believe you're telling me all this because that's all you two did. What else happened?" "We bantered back and forth for a while, poking fun at each other. Then he said it wasn't fun anymore. He offered to stop if I would and then he wanted to shake on it. All of a sudden, we were holding hands and I didn't want him to let go. I felt all mushy inside, mom. I never felt anything like that before." "Is that when he kissed you?" "What? How did you know he kissed me? It's not something I would have expected to happen, but it did, and I let it happen. Does that mean I'm gay?" "I'm your mom. You didn't come and confide in me about something trivial. I knew you had something more serious on your mind, right away. You want to know if I am upset because you let another man kiss you. Since you were a toddler, I've known that you have a subtle gentleness you aren't aware of. Other people sense what you can't. You don't want to appear different from your peers, so you've put up mental blinders to preserve your dignity." "Are you suggesting that I'm gay, mom? I mean, I don't think I am, and I really don't want to be, but I'm not as sure toady as I was yesterday, because of what happened with Joey and I. What is it you're trying to tell me, mom?" "Why attach needless titles to yourself, Evan? You're just who you are and there's nothing wrong with who you are. You happen to be shy, that's all. You can find faults in anyone if you look hard enough. Want to attach blame to someone for what you are? Blame me. I raised you without any influence at all from an adult male. Maybe that was wrong of me to coddle you." "I'm not looking to place blame, mom. I'm just trying to understand who and what I am. For some reason, I feel a strong attraction to Joey Trent, and he claims he feels the same way about me. I think it's wrong for a guy to feel as I do about another guy. He says he feels just as strongly about me. " "Did he tell you he wants to jump your bones, yet?" "Mother, please! This isn't a bit funny! Please don't be vulgar. I'm seeking your advice. I need to be able to confide in you!" "I know, but you sound just like a girl would sound at the mere mention of intimate relations with a man. Men talk about sexual relations constantly among men. I have news for you, son. Women also discuss sex amongst themselves, like men, but they never admit to it in front of males. Men lose respect for women who speak freely about matters of intimacy. The less you say about this to anyone besides me, the better. Understand? "You were rightfully offended by my offhand comment. I'm your mother. Mothers normally do not discuss sexual intimacy casually with their sons. On the other hand, they all teach their daughters to protect their virtue, so lecherous men won't violate them. When the time comes, every mother has a serious talk with her daughters about human sexuality. I suppose I'm going to have that talk with you now, seeing as how you've been treated as a girl." "Is that what Joey did? What do you mean, mom?" "Whether intentional or not, you may be entering into a physical relationship with another man. Normally, if you were a girl I'd be addressing the dangers of your becoming pregnant. Since that's not possible, we can dispense with that aspect of the lecture. There are some other dangers involved, though. If you're wise, you'll always practice 'safe sex', regardless of how confident you may feel about your partner's health. It's better to be safe than sorry. "Mother! I have no intention of engaging in gay sex with him! Not ever!" "Rather than my attempting to caution you about that, I'm going suggest you go to your computer and research adult gay behavior on the web. You'll be amazed by the plethora of information available about sexually transmitted diseases and the like. Do your research about gay male behavior on your own time. Don't neglect your responsibilities during working hours. Okay?" Our omelets were ready to be eaten, so we carried them out to the terrace and I poured coffee for the two of us. "Then, you're not upset with me for wearing one of Aunt Clare's nightgowns? I was sure that you would be." "Darling, why should I be upset with you over something that's so trivial? You have every right to explore your sexuality. Everyone does. I appreciate your coming to me for advice though, but only you can decide whether you want to enter into a relationship with another man instead of with a woman. "The best advice I can give you is to keep your budding relationship all to yourselves for the time being. Some people out there are still homophobic and they will not hesitate to deride both of you for being different. That won't be easy. You won't be able to go out on dates like a normal couple." "Straight guys go cruising in pairs all the time, Mom." "Yes, but straight men never engage in physical contact. You're bound to slip up and make the mistake of touching one another while you're out and about with Joe and convey your feelings. If you do it at a gay bar where physical contact between males is acceptable, you may be viewed by the wrong people. You two had best keep any feelings you may have for one another under wraps or you may soon be sorry. Someone without scruples may try to blackmail bait Joe with public exposure or hold you for ransom. " "Oh, mother," I mewed. "Please don't be so melodramatic. The day and age of people threatening to expose for being gay have come and gone. This is 2020 not 2010. Since people elected a black gay woman to be the mayor of the second largest city in the country; and a gay woman is hosting a daily variety show, gays don't have to worry about being exposed publicly. The public has become immune to money grubbing blackmailers' threats. "No one gives a damn if two gay men are intimate. Same sex marriage is the rage these days. Besides, I'm not gay and neither is Joey. I've merely been caught by Joey in one of Clare's nightgowns and we got carried away. " "Nonetheless, I'd be careful of what I wore to bed from now on, if I were you, unless you want to encourage Joe --- . Do you? " "Oh, mother! I've done nothing to encourage him! However, to be safe, I'd better go across town to retrieve my own pajamas to please you." "Don't make a trip all the way across the city, just to please me. You don't have to do anything of the sort to please me. There are alternatives. We can go out shopping for some new nightwear for you, if you'd like, now that you are making more money by doing the Trent's bookkeeping. Go get dressed, darling and we'll go shopping together for you, right now. There are a few things I'd like to get for myself while we're at it." "Don't you have to work today, mother?" "Am I a slave? I have days off, I'll have you know!" "But you usually visit the hospital on your days off anyway, just to make sure the nurses on duty in your absence aren't goofing up." "The hospital's other head nurses are perfectly capable of managing things while I'm taking a day off, Evan. After all, I've trained them, personally." "That's true mom. Give me about a ten minutes and I'll be ready." "Take your time. I won't be ready that quickly. A woman needs more time to prepare for the day. Let's plan to meet again in an hour or so. I may be a bit late, so don't be surprised if you have to wait on me. "I'll try to be ready in less than an hour, but don't hold me to it. I'll call you on your cell phone to let you when I'm ready. We'll meet back here then to plan our outing together." "I thought we'd just go to the nearest mall." "We will, but then, I want to visit a special store to buy some intimate wear for my upcoming honeymoon. I want to be thoroughly prepared for the new love of my life. The senior Mr. Trent has to be properly informed as to who will be in charge in the bedroom, once we exchange wedding vows." "Wouldn't you be better off without me in tow on a shopping expedition like that, mom? I'd be embarrassed beyond words in a store meant for women." "You've accompanied me to major department stores in town before where. I've visited the lingerie department, as I recall. Why should you balk about seeing women's lingerie, now?" "I was a child back then. I didn't know we were in a women's intimate clothing department, mom." "You're a grown man now, Evan. You ought to have first-hand knowledge about the complexities of women's --- intimate wear, so you won't fumble and be confused when it's time for you to assist a lady in her boudoir as she prepares to present herself in all her glory to you, if it ever comes to that." "Aw, come on, mom. Women don't get all trussed up in fancy corsets like they used to these days. They're all too liberated for that fancy stuff." "Are they, now? Then, tell me: why are corsetieres an intimate wear stores still in business doing very well these days, pray tell? It wouldn't hurt for you to be exposed to fine corsetry if only to become familiar with its use." "I don't know. I guess there must be a big enough niche for their products to sell, for them to survive. Somebody is buying their products. Maybe younger girls like to fantasize about having perfect bodies and buy corsets to create them, so an imaginary Prince Charming will sweep them off their feet and take them to a magical kingdom where they can live happily ever after." "You're not too far off, son. Girls like to think they'll become a princess in a magical sort of way, even if it is a pipe dream and they know the grim reality of married life. They soon learn that in real life they have to submit to their husbands' will, they try to make the best of it. It's still the way the world works, and women know magical kingdoms only exist in bedrooms. It's the only place they can dress to please their man and use their charms to have a man lust for her a be a devoted lover instead of a domineering beast. Sexual attractiveness is the major asset women use to their advantage." "I thought two people still fall in love and upon their becoming a couple to share in the benefits of dedication to one another and neither takes advantage of the other." "That's in ideal relationships, but it often takes a woman's wile to maintain that compromise pact. Women agree to have the man make major decisions and the woman make all the little decisions, so they share the responsibility. What the man doesn't realize is: the woman employs her charm and all her feminine wiles to convince him that there are very few major decisions. He is lulled into her make all decisions for him, often by being good in bed." "That's a very cynical approach, mom. Do women really do that?" "Men normally think with the heads of their penises instead of the heads on their shoulders. Satisfy a man in bed, and he soon foregoes any thought of supremacy. He becomes like a little lamb, and he can be ever so grateful for having a wife that is so ravenous a lover and attentive to his carnal needs." "So, in your opinion mom, men all think they're in charge, while woman know that they can let the men think so, while they make all the important daily decisions by using sex as a means to an end." "Not only that, but women also try to convince their men that a happy wife results in a happy life. A wise man lets the woman make all the decisions. He has enough on his plate making a living, unless he's lucky and tactful enough to amass a fortune, like the elder Mr. Trent. Few men can amass a modest fortune. I give Mr. Trent a lot of credit for his ability to stay on top." "Why does everyone around here refer to the elder Mr. Trent as 'Mr. Trent'? Doesn't he have a first name? What is his first name? I don't recall hearing it. Why doesn't anyone use it to address him?" "It's Maximilian, Cassius." "Oh! Is there a shorter version, you know, sort of a 'nick name'." "What do you suggest: Max Cash or Cash Max? Either can be taken as an insult. Don't you think?" "What do you call him when you speak to him directly?" "When others are present, I address him as 'sir'. When we're alone, I often call him 'Max', but I know he doesn't like that, so I call him 'Dear', if I'm interested in pleasing him, and 'Honey' if he's interested in pleasing me. It's not easy to tell, sometimes. Times a wasting! Let's get a move on, son!" I went back to Clare's suite to get dressed and chose my nicest T-shirt and sport shirt to wear on our shopping trip, in case I had to remove my shirt to check the fit on something to please my mom. Most things in my size fit me so it isn't necessary to go to a fitting room to try something on. Mom was right on time when I returned to the sun room to meet with her. She was dressed for shopping in a skirt and blouse either of which could be removed easily to check the fit of any item she found to her liking. We spent most of the day at the closest mall, and spent enough money on our clothes to make the trip worthwhile. Leastwise, I did. Mom spent a fortune on hers! On our way out of the mall, she asked me to indulge her by going to a store that featured intimate apparel for women. "It will only take a half an hour or so, and they are having a sale this week. I want to pick up a few items that I noticed in a flyer I received in the mail, darling. Be a dear, won't you?" I could hardly refuse her. She drove us to the mall. I was just tagging along. Sure enough, she shocked me by taking us to Heart to Heart, the famous sex paraphernalia store featuring the most risqu? intimate apparel in the whole wide world. What she wanted to get there was beyond me. I couldn't believe it! She was looking at leather and vinyl goods used by a dominatrix, of all things. She didn't buy any, but she did take notes on the prices of several different complete sets. I sat in a corner , too embarrassed to watch her as she examined several items on display. 6. To my surprise, she called me over to see a restrictive looking garment she called a waist cincher. "You could use something like this to improve your bad posture, Evan. You slouch so much. You always have. Stand here by the display model so I can get a better idea of how you'd look in one of these." "Mother, those are women's undergarments!" "Good posture control is gender neutral, darling. Don't be such a prude. I'm your mother, for Pete's sake. I've seen you in your diapers and out of them, come to think of it. You needn't show reluctance. I just want a good look at you beside this store's display dummy." I stood obediently beside the dummy, and to my surprise, my mother took a cincher from the display and held it up against my waist. "Yes, something like this would do your poor posture a world of good. Let's see if we can get you a proper fitting by a corsetiere, darling." "No, mother, I really don't think a fitting is necessary or appropriate." "Oh, come on! Don't be such a baby! You're a big boy, now. Wouldn't you like to have a sweet young lady working here take your measurements, just for the heck of it? It might be fun. Don't you think? I always enjoy being fitted for my clothes. You ought to try it." She was speaking loud enough to get the attention of a member of the store's staff. An associate came up to us and asked my mom how she could help us. I almost died of embarrassment when my mother told the young woman she'd like the woman to take my measurements to assure a proper fitting for any waist trimming garment she might suggest like the one she was holding in her hands, but one designed for a young male's physique. "Of course, but first, for a proper fitting, he'll have to proceed to one of the privacy booths and remove his shirt and pants." I had to endure a young woman's taking measurements of me in the booth with me dressed only in my underwear and with my mother standing beside me at the insistence of the young lady doing the measuring. She claimed it was necessary because some people make claims against the store about sexual improprieties of the staff, so a witness had to be present at all fittings. "I trust your son will behave himself with his mother present while I take his measurements. To be sure I get his leg, thigh and waistline measurements correctly, I'll need to touch certain areas of his body that might involve his becoming --- excited. You surely won't take advantage of the situation, will you, young man?" I had to reply to her question, and endure her probing hand at my groin at the same time with my mother looking on, as if I was a young child. I was sure the two of them both enjoyed my displeasure immensely. "No, I won't, certainly not. EEK!" I let out a yelp unintentionally, which then brought out a giggle from the teasing young lady whose face was inches away from my rising manhood, and my mother. "Yup,' she exclaimed. "May I suggest a specially designed undergarment to correct his poor --- posture? We carry several models in stock that would be ideal for someone such as he. As his mother, you should insist that he wears one at all times. Is this his initial fitting for a posture corrective garment?" "Yes, it is." Mother replied. "In that case, he'll need more than just one garment initially to provide him with continual corrective care while his initial cinch is in the wash. I suggest two or three of our daytime posture corrective designs and as many more in sleep models designed to remind him that he needs posture maintenance." My mother agreed and asked the woman for a brochure depicting the models she was suggesting. I was so mortified by the prospect of being subjected to figure training recommended by a corsetiere, I was unable to participate in the discussion. I could only stand beside my mother, dumbfounded. Fifteen minutes later, I was being laced and clipped into something out of a catalog, being told by my mother to stand still, or else. I let the store's sales lady fit me into what she assured my mom would slowly coax my slumped spine into the proper position. "As you can see, removal of the garment is unnecessary to perform normal bodily functions. Of course, a traditional undergarment will be required to maintain modesty, but judging by your son's reaction to his wearing the new supportive wear, I recommend firm gaffs to enable him to keep things under control. He seems to enjoy wearing a proper waist cinch way too much." The exact opposite was true. My reaction to having been manhandled by the woman right in front of my own mother was totally involuntary. I couldn't help get excited. It just happened with no encouragement on my part. The woman was constantly rubbing my groin with the backs of her hands while she was taking forever to fit the garment onto my torso. I could swear she was doing it intentionally to get me physically aroused. My mother looked down and then slapped my shoulder hard and told me to behave myself. I was unable to respond to either taunt: the woman's or my mother's, too embarrassed under the circumstances. Women all affected me in that way. They made me feel humble and insignificant. I was absolutely mortified having a complete stranger, a good-looking young woman, no less, manhandle my privates, even if we were safely inside of a privacy booth at a specialty store. What if her comments could be heard by the occupants of the adjacent booths? "Once a customer wears a garment, it cannot be returned, so you'll have to buy the one he's currently wearing. I'd be remiss if I didn't advise you that waist cinchers like this one tend to ride up, and become uncomfortable, so you should add nylon stockings and garter tabs to assure the bottom hem of the waist cincher won't roll over and become ineffective and uncomfortable. We include eight garters with this garment, four for each leg, but the nylon stockings he should wear with this cincher vary considerably in the veneer and length depending on the wearer's height. Would you like to take a look at what we currently have in stock? He'll need to put his pants back on." "Mother, I'm beyond being embarrassed as it is, wearing a corset. Men are not meant to wear them. I absolutely refuse to wear nylons, too!" "Be still, Evan. It's not a corset. It's a waist cinch designed to correct your poor posture, and it's purely non-gender specific. Put your pants back on this minute. Do you need me to help you?" "No, mother. You know I can manage without any help." "There was a time when you called on me to help you get dressed in the morning all the time. Do you remember? You asked for my help getting dressed every morning long after it was necessary." She then whispered in my ear, "As I recall, you often insisted I help you to bathe, for me to shower with you in the morning, and soap up your torso for you. You enjoyed mommy doing that so much for you. Didn't you? Maybe we should resume that ritual, to make sure you're squeaky clean before you put on your daytime posture correcting undergarments." "Mother! That was years ago! I'm a grown man now." "You were entering your teens when you asked me to bathe you. You'd probably still be asking me to bathe and powder your fanny for you every morning if it wasn't for your Aunt Clare arriving to join the family. As long as Clare will be convalescing for the foreseeable future, and I'm available, would you like me to resume helping you prepare for the day? I suppose I could, --- if you'll ask me real nice." "Oh, mom, I'm all grown up now, so you could stop! Then again, as I can recall, you were gentle with me, back then. You knew I was totally unable to reach back to powder my shoulder blades and lower down without using too much powder and making a mess of the floor. "I can manage on my own now, because I don't need to use a medicated talc that we used back then for the rash I had all over my back. I'm grateful for your helping me to recover from that rash. I couldn't have managed curing it on my own, without your help. I'm ever so grateful. You know that, mom." "Well, I guess I'll have to help you to resolve your poor posture now, too. You know you won't be able to manage lacing up the cinches on your own. No one is that nimble. You'll need me to help you, darling. Won't you?" "But mother, I'm an adult now! I'll have to manage on my own somehow." "Do you have someone else you'd rather have help you, like young Joe, for instance? I suppose you'd rather have him help you at that. Is that it?" "Heavens, no, mother. I'd be mortified if Joe ever saw me wearing one of these restrictive undergarments! They seem so --- so --- feminine." "You're having trouble saying it, aren't you? Why, for heaven's sake. Do you think Joey will think any less of you for your wanting to improve your posture? He won't, I'm sure. I sincerely believe he will compliment your good judgement. Keep in mind that it is a gender neutral garment, after all. Stop being so sensitive about it!" "If these waist cinches are so gender neutral, why do they require stockings to hold them in place? Certainly, nylons aren't very gender neutral, mom." "Is that what's bothering you. As a nurse, I know that many men must wear compression hose, which a just like nylons, only of higher denier. We'll try omitting the stockings for now. I'm sure you'll be able to manage without them. I had to wear them, when I needed posture adjustment. We'll see." "But mom, you were a girl! Wearing nylon stockings was normal for you. " "I told you! The waist cinchers you'll be wearing are all gender neutral! I'm inclined to think you'll have more trouble keeping the top hem of them from rolling down. We'll see. They're brand new now, and will stay in place, but they will relax after you've worn them for a while. Then, we'll see if you'll be able to manage without wearing stockings. Of course, we can switch to a panty model if you prefer, but then you'd have to remove it to do your duty. The open bottom models are much more convenient. Wouldn't you say?" "I'd say, I can also manage without wearing any waist cinchers, mom. I have so far. I don't think there's anything wrong with my posture." "You may think you can manage without wearing cinchers right now, but as you age, you will gradually become bent over from having poor posture and then you'll have to walk using a cane or even crutches or a walker to manage getting around. Would you rather do that? Take your pick!" I thought about it. I surely didn't want to walk around stooped over in later years, walking with a cane or a walker. "Why do I need posture control undergarments, when so many other men my age do not? Furthermore, I don't recall my primary doctor mentioning anything about my posture needing correction during my last visit. Why don't we make a call to him and inquire if I need to wear corrective underpinnings." "I have called him, and he concurs, darling. Many men your age are blessed with strong spinal cords. Unfortunately, yours isn't strong, or you wouldn't be slouching so much when you're standing. These waist cinchers ought to help you to stand up perfectly straight in no time, hopefully. If not, you'll need to wear full body corsets until your posture eventually improves." I knew that she wouldn't let up and I'd have to wear the cinches or she'd be on my case about it. She's persistent as a polecat. Once an idea forms in her head, she doesn't let go. Well, I know mother couldn't or wouldn't watch over me twenty-four seven, so eventually I'll be able to go without wearing a restrictive waist cincher when she isn't hoovering over me. "Alright, mom. I concede. I'll wear the damn things for a while, if only to please you. I'm sure you think it's in my best interests, so I won't argue with you, mostly because I know it won't do me any good." "Fine, I'm glad to see you are able to use your common sense about health issues. I'll have the corsetiere wrap up a sufficient number to begin with. Then we'll acquire more after your torso gradually acclimates to these." "You mean, I'll have to wear these waist cinches for that long?" "We'll see, darling. We'll see. After a while, you won't even know you're wearing one. Then, hopefully, you'll become grateful for the effect they'll have on your posture. Maybe then you won't want to go without wearing one. Who can tell?" "I doubt that very much, mother. I feel like I'm in a vise." "That only means the cinch is doing the job as intended, my dear." "I hope you're right." "You know I am, dearest. I'm so glad that you see it my way." We left the specialty shop. By the time we got back to the Trent mansion, the top hem had rolled down and the bottom hem had rolled up enough to make a dark welt across my upper thighs. Of course, the rolls resulted in mild discomfort, so mother helped me to roll the hems back to where they belonged. I disliked the one I was wearing. It left my backside exposed. To resolve the rolling problem, my mother unlaced the cinch and removed it to put all the garters onto the built in tabs, all eight of them. She then rolled up the hated nylon stockings onto my legs and attached the garters, all eight of them to the tops of the stockings. She then laced the waist cincher back up in place again on my torso. I could swear she tightened up the laces tighter than before, which of course I wasn't able to determine on my own. It didn't take long for the front of the top hem of the cinch to roll over onto my lower chest again. I had to ask my mom what to do, as I was unfamiliar with the problem. She deftly attached wide elastic straps in front at the side of each shoulder that ran over the top of my shoulders. She attached it to the cincher in back at the top edge again. She repeated the process on the other shoulder. The inch wide straps kept the top of the cinch from rolling down, for the time being. The addition of the strap made the cinch stay in place and added a bit of discomfort. I told my mom about the discomfort, but she only replied that it was proof the cinch was effectively doing its job. I looked down at my chest and noticed the flesh of my chest was held in at the top of my waist cinch, but above that, it was pushed up so that my chest projected outward slightly forming what looked like tiny bulges in the most embarrassing manner, because the inch-wide straps helped to push the soft flesh on the sides of my chest together somewhat, adding to the odd illusion. When I chose a t-shirt to wear over the waist cinch, the unwanted illusion didn't disappear. If anything, it made the tiny bulges look more pronounced. I immediately changed my t-shirt for a button up shirt with two pockets. The shirt disguised the embarrassing small bumps sticking out on my chest. In addition to the front of my waist cincher coaxing my nipples on display, because mom laced the cincher so tight, my backside also stuck out more warranting my concern. The thinness of the panty she had me wear didn't do much to protect my bum from being obvious. I wish I had brought a few pair of my flannel boxer shorts over from our house. 7. I'd spent all together too much time out shopping with my mom, so I walked over to the office area of my suite and sat down hoping to do some work for a change. The waist cincher on my body immediately alerted me of my poor posture, tightening considerably along the waistline. I had to stand up and sit down again, but slowly, easing onto the office chair, taking a deep breath while my insides readjusted. The firm hold of the waist cincher didn't allow me to be lax for one second. I allowed my body time to adjust to its firm grip. It was going to take getting used to doing. After taking several more deeper breaths, I became accustomed to the tightness of the waist cincher until I looked down to notice the reappearance of the two tiny mounds on my chest. When sitting, they were more pronounced. Sitting down made me lean a bit more forward, making the two projections a little more prominent than when I was standing. I reached up with both my hands to tweak each nipple that was standing proud on the front of my body. Doing that felt good, so good I continued to tweak the two projections and closed my eyes. I imagined Joey tweaking them instead of me, and suddenly woke up from my imaginings, wondering why I'd thought of him instead of the young lady from the specialty shop. She was cute and so helpful, earlier, while manhandling my personal "set". Of course, she had to touch my body. It was necessary to fit me properly, or so --- she claimed. Still, the lingering memory of her soft touch as she made contact with certain areas was having a definite effect on my rising manhood, even if she did it to make a sale. Agh! I had bookwork to do. Such pleasant thoughts were best set aside until nighttime, when I was able to attend to them as all men do at times, when no one is around to see. I resumed devoting my attention to the spreadsheets on the desk, trying to figure out why Clare had posted some paid bills to direct supplies, others to office supplies and still others to general supplies. To me, they were all supplies! I marked the items to go over with Joey. Joey? Where was he? He should have stopped by to help me by now. I texted his cell. He said he'd be right over. Oh, I'd forgotten all about the two obvious bumps on my chest. What to do. I quickly grabbed a sweater and wrapped it over my shoulders as I heard Joey approaching. When he appeared, I tried to slouch over so the projections would be less prominent. "Hi, Evan. What seems to be the problem?" He paused, then added, "Hey, you look different today! Are you flustered over the books that much, or are you blushing for some reason? Why are you wearing a sweater? It's warm in here, too warm." He removed the sweater from my shoulders, causing me to blush all the more. Then he noticed the two projecting nipples on my chest. He didn't comment, but I could tell that he saw them. He took me by the shoulders and had me stand up to face him directly. That caused my waist cincher to softly creak, which he also noticed. He looked at me and felt my body at the sides, stopping instinctively when his hands felt the outline of the cinch around my waistline, with the lacings up the back of it. He began to slowly unbutton my dress shirt, one button at a time until my forward projecting nipples were exposed to his view. "Nice! I really mean it, Eva. May I call you 'Eva'? You look very nice. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were a budding teenage girl. You look so young and --- vulnerable! "Hmm, why are you wearing a corset? Don't get me wrong, I like the effect, but I'm a bit curious as to why you decided to wear something considered to be a part of a woman's attire. I don't mind, not in the least, but it seems to me you should wear a blouse over it instead of a man's dress shirt." "The waist cincher is my mother's idea. She claims I have poor posture." "Yeah, I noticed, too. Maybe she's right and you should wear corsetry to correct your slouch. It will avoid your having back problems later on in life." "That's what my mom said." "Can I see it?" "Why do you want to see my posture correcting waist cincher?" "Come on. What's the big deal? We're both guys, aren't we? No one will know, unless you snitch. I want to see what a guy looks like wearing what is considered by most a woman's foundation piece." "It's supposedly gender neutral, Joey, not a woman's foundation piece." "So, then what's the big deal? Maybe I ought to get a few of my own" "Don't. This one pushes up the flesh on my chest to look girlish. I hate it!" "You look nice with it on. Most guys' chests are hairy as hell. Mine is, but you don't seem to have any hair at all anywhere on your body. Why is that?" "I had a rash when I was younger that killed all the hair follicles. I'm over it and done with the rash now, but it left me without hair on my body." "Let me see. Take the shirt off and let me see." "You'll see my waist cincher too, if I do, Joey." "I'll see your proud nipples, too. Won't I? Don't you want me to see them? Are you ashamed of having such cute looking nipples, for a guy, I mean." That pissed me off, so I took off the shirt, and exposed my nipples for him to see. "There! Are you happy now? Take a good look, you lecher!" "Yeah, I'm looking, and I like what I see." He took my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and pulled up on them to tease me. When he let them go, the bit of flesh under them was rounded and stuck out a little more. I tried to turn away from him and cover my chest, but he took a grip on my shoulders and turned me back. "Don't be shy, Evan, or may I call you 'Eva', now that I know you have a pair of lovely 'breasts'. "They're not breasts!, they're just my pecs!" I can't believe that I just said that! "Can I help it if I have a little too much fat on my chest, so it looks like I have --- breasts. Laugh at me if you'd like. Go ahead." "I'm not laughing. I wish you had a little more extra fat up there and some more on your rump as well, for that matter. You wouldn't be hard to look at if you put on a little extra weight in all the right places. I could really go for you if you put your mind to looking nicer. I'm already very fond of you. If you'd try harder to look sexy, I'll be tempted to kiss you again." "Honestly, Joey. Quit kidding around. You know I'm not gay!" "That's the point. I know you're a guy, but you look more like a girl in that waist cincher, and I like seeing you. It may improve your posture, but at the same time, it enhances how your chest resembles a woman's breasts. With a bit of help from a gynecologist, or a little bit of weight gain, you could have a nicer looking bosom. Then, you'd be able to venture out in public looking like a girl, like on a date with me, for instance. Wouldn't that be a blast?" "You've got to be kidding! Why would I want to go out on a date with you, Joey? I might not mind going out cruising for chicks with you as two guys at some time. Girls go out in pairs, so we'd be able to pick two of them up and then pair off on our own, each of us with one of the girls." "Somehow, picking up chicks at some bar only to get shut down afterwards because gold diggers don't appeal to me. Now, if you were to become a girl, it would solve two of my problems at the same time." "What two problems?" I asked. "If you became a trans-girl and married me, I wouldn't have to worry about our diluting my dad's estate. You could be a co-beneficiary with me as my wife. Wouldn't you rather be my pampered homemaker instead of a working stiff, and be able to lie around idly all day as a woman of leisure?" "Your dad would see to it that I continue to do the housework around here as well as the bookkeeping, which I'm still unsure if I can manage some of the classifications of expenses. You're supposed to help me figure out some of the expense classifications, Joey." "We'll get to that. There's no rush. Let's keep talking about how good you might look if you had more --- substance to show up here, so you could pose as a girl and go out with me as my date." He touched my protruding nipples with his forefingers gently, sending thrills up and own my cincher wrapped spine. I wanted to push him away, but what he was doing to my nipples felt too good for me to want him to stop. It was very naughty of me to want him to touch me so sensually, but it made me swoon, and I never swooned from being touched by someone before. I wanted to know what it felt like to have someone fawn over me. I was out of control but I couldn't help myself! "You should ask your mom if you can go see a gynecologist to find out if your inner being is female, Eva." "What?" "You'd make a much better girl than a guy. Think of it. If you become a girl, kissing you, like I did last night wouldn't be considered gay. We could kiss all the time, and I could tease your plump nipples without it being gay. It would also be perfectly natural for us to play house together. Wouldn't it?" "That's a laugh! If I looked more a girl, I'd probably be treated more like a maid around here instead of a bookkeeper. I wonder if my aunt Clare felt the same way. She's been fulfilling both jobs for as long as I can remember. Maybe it's the real reason she's convalescing now at that clinic." "Don't you know? Hmm, I guess you don't. Why is that, I wonder." "Don't I know what, Joey?" "Your aunt Clare. It really isn't my place to discuss it, and I'm not really sure about what happened." "What are you talking about, Joey? What is wrong with my aunt Clare?" "You'd better ask your mom about your aunt Clare and why she's presently recuperating at a clinic specializing in regenerative tissue cultivation." "Is that serious? It almost sounds drastic. Does Clare have SARS?" "No, but--- I don't want to talk about it. I already said too much to you. I'll get into trouble if I say anything more, Evan. If you want to know any more, you'd better ask your mom." "How is it you know so much more than I do?" "Clare's been working here for quite some time. Tom and I got to talking to her on occasion, and we eventually gained her trust enough for her to repeat what she'd been told about what had happened to her while she was in the military. It seems she had a very traumatic experience for the better part of three years. Afterwards, she was rescued by friendly forces and sent home. She'd been working in a brothel, a sex pit, no less. She had been drugged and then brain washed to the point she didn't even know her real name." "Are you sure? What you're saying sounds unbelievable!" "Her buns and breasts were plumped up so she'd be more sexy looking and attractive to men. --- I'd better not say any more. Ask your mom about the rest, what happened to her face and all. I'm surprised she hasn't told you about your aunt, yet. Please don't tell her I've told you anything." 8. I told Joey I'd get back to him about the bookkeeping, --- I had to talk to my mom about my aunt Clare. He asked me again to not tell my mom what he had told me, but I didn't care. If she asked, I'd tell her. I never kept anything from my mother. It wouldn't matter. She'd only find out in the end anyway. I went to her bedroom, and found her sitting on her bed, reading a magazine. "Mother, I'm so sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I must speak to you. I just heard a terrible rumor that Aunt Clare had been brainwashed and forced into prostitution back when she was in the military. Is that true?" "Who told you that?" "I'd rather not say, mom. It was told to me in confidence." "Joey!" She knew right away. "That snot wasn't supposed to say anything to you about Clare. What did he tell you, Evan? Speak up! Don't dawdle!" "He --- he just said she was forced into becoming a prostitute involuntarily. He said he wasn't supposed to tell me that much, that it just slipped out, but he suggested I discuss it with you if I wanted to know anything more about her ordeal and what she was doing for well over three years before she was rescued. How was she forced into being a prostitute and more important, how did she manage to get rescued? That had to be a horrible existence!" "Yes, I can imagine it was. Fortunately, she was rescued by a small group of English soldiers who were on a drunken spree one night looking for some fun at a cabaret. The owner of the cabaret asked the soldiers if they'd like to meet sexy divas who could show them a great time for a reasonable price. Then men all responded with glee and told the man to bring the women on. The Englishmen were escorted to a different location, not very far from the cabaret, and were brought to a sitting parlor full of lovely ladies who were all dressed in sexy costumes, showing off their breasts and full backsides. To the soldiers, the women seemed drugged so they'd be compliant, somewhat incoherent, but able to smile and ploy their physical charms for the benefit of the group of male visitors. The cabaret owner announced, "You may choose any girl you'd like. They will gladly accompany you to a private room and do however you bid of them. They are all quite docile and willing to perform any sex act you may desire, all but this one who is unable to be fucked this week, unfortunately, but she gives marvelous blow jobs and likes to have anal sex, if that sort of thing appeals to any of you." "This is how the gory story was told to me by the psychiatrists when they explained to me why Clare becomes frantic when she is questioned about the events that led to her becoming a veritable sex slave. One of the Englishmen noticed a small tattoo on the shoulder of the prostitute the cabaret owner said was unable to have vaginal sex that week. He had seen that tattoo before. "Blimey, that hooker's a bloke I knew a few years back on the front. If my guess is right, she can't offer anyone vaginal sex any time of the month or year. I'm going to pick her, claiming that I want my knob polished. If she is the he I'm thinking of, we men have to snatch her out of the clutches of the cabaret owner, but fast!" They whisked her away to safety, from what I understand, and they turned her over to an American medical unit near their duty station. A big hubbub ensued because she wanted to go back to the "safety" of her pleasure parlor where she was able to get the drugs the pimps used to keep her in tow." "The psychiatrist had a hard time convincing her the methadone would be just as good as the heroin she'd been given by her captors for years by then. It was made more difficult because Clare had been brainwashed. Her prior memory had been totally erased by her captors to get her to accept her fate as a mindless piece of fluff. Eventually, her true identity was discovered by DNA analysis. "That's when I was contacted by the military as her next of kin. You see, Evan, your aunt Clare is really your MIA father who was captured by the enemy and submitted to extremely cruel forms of torture." I said, "You needn't go any further, mom. I think I get the picture. I suppose my dad was then physically altered to become a mindless bimbo as horrid punishment for being a member of our armed forces fighting against them. I can't imagine a more vicious punishment of a soldier of their enemy. " "It isn't as simple as that, son. The physical changes could be reversed, but his mind, her mind --- well, no matter how hard the army's psychiatrists and I tried to eradicate the brainwashing, your aunt Clare still believes that she's a reformed prostitute who can only please men anally or orally. I had one hell of a time keeping her home when she was first released to my custody. She'd proudly flaunt her booty at any man that gave her a tumble. "I was a floor nurse when your father was returned to me, dressed in a skirt and blouse ensemble. You were still a teen at the time. She had a suitcase full of plain Jane clothes, but was wearing permanent dark red lipstick and thick eye shadow so she wouldn't have to be bothered with applying makeup day after day. Of course, her bold red dyed hair was her own at the time. "Try as I might, I was unable to convince her that she was once my loving husband. I tried for years to no avail. In fact, if I tried to remind her of her military tour of duty, she would panic and go into a catatonic state of mind for days on end. After living without any sex for about a year, she finally came around to a degree. I finally convinced her she didn't have to perform any deviant sex acts to survive. I gradually detoxed her off methadone and she was able to manage, so long as no one agitated her. A slightest mention of the enemy that had captured her, and she would go into mental shutdown. "Then, Mr. Trent approached me one day during a fund raising campaign he was involved in, and so was I. He was in need of a maid. I explained to him what had happened to my --- to Clare, and he was very understanding. In fact, he offered to hire Clare as the Trent mansion's household maid, as I'd confided to him that she was not otherwise employed and couldn't be. "One thing led to another, and soon, Mr. Trent's college age son: Tom took a liking to Clare, knowing full well that she was once a man, my man. It was a shock to me and to the elder Mr. Trent, both. Nonetheless, this thing about some delicate men becoming women is becoming an in fashion solution to having low testosterone levels. Tom began dating Clare Try as we might, we weren't able to discourage him. After a few dinner dates, he asked Clare if she would accompany him to a fancy formal function he had to attend. "That's when I put my foot down. I told her she couldn't go unless she had facial reconstruction surgery to eradicate the garish permanent makeup she got when she was abducted and forced into sexual servitude. Furthermore, I wanted her to have the severe burn scars on her back eliminated if possible. I'd heard of a new lab procedure involving the growth of normal looking flesh invitro from healthy stem cells provided by donors and using the new skin grown invitro to replace burned skin of a recipient. Naturally, Clare's parents and family donated stem cells necessary to initiate the propagation because their cells had less likelihood of being rejected by your dad. "Hopefully, Clare will come out of the clinic a fully functional woman with clear skin, nice facial features, and without any garish permanent makeup to remind her of her gruesome past --- Clare deserves to have another chance at happiness. As much as I'd like to hold on to her, I know that I have to set her free to begin again, just as I know I'll have to set you free someday to make a new life for yourself however you will see fit." "Why wasn't I told about Clare, mom?" "Oh, you were too young when she first came upon the scene. Her plight was an adult matter not within your understanding at the time. I suppose you could have been advised, once you matured, but I didn't want to trouble you with Clare's problems. I wanted to protect you from the truth about what had happened to your father so long ago. Your knowing about what happened to him would serve no useful purpose, and you might have slipped up, causing Clare embarrassment if word got out about what had happened to her." "Mom, is Clare really undertaking sexual reassignment surgery to be able to marry Tom Trent?" "She might have had to, years ago, but same sex marriages are legal in this state. The day Tom proposed to her, a fog lifted, as if the brainwashing was somehow lessened by a Tm's asking her for her hand in marriage . Knowing that her body was partially female, and her face was definitely that of a tart alarmed her, but she eventually came to terms with her condition, knowing that I was with her to console her. She humbly accepted Tom Trent's bid. "She knows that we were once happily married and that she was a man back then, but she doesn't believe that she can ever go back. Certain parts she still has simply don't function properly anymore because she'd been castrated.. She feels our resuming our previous life would be unfair to me or her. Can you imagine that? Her thoughts were only of me and my happiness. Instead, she wants me to find a new horny hunk to warm my body at night." "Maybe you should, mom. Mr. Trent ---" "I'll settle for a nice, mature gentlemen like Max Trent who has lots of money and is willing to spoil me rotten. If I can get it, why shouldn't I? Can you blame me?" "No, mom. I can't. Well, now that the truth about my father is finally known to me and your plans seem set, does Aunt Clare know that I'm --- his son?" My mom looked at me with a solemn gaze. "Son, your aunt Clare doesn't even recognize I was once her wife. She only remembers she was always exactly what she is now, a retired shemale hooker who was rescued from a brothel by a group of English soldiers out on a holiday. She was advised otherwise, and she knows it's true, but she has no recollection of her past. "With the help of our army psychiatrists, I carefully was able to reveal to her some of her prior identity. She accepts what I told her, but doesn't remember anything from before the time she was taken into captivity and brainwashed. She can't even recall who was responsible for brainwashing her. It's still all a mystery to her. "I'm glad she is finally fully conscious and can now make logical decisions on her own. For a long time, she wasn't even able to do that. She walked around in a foggy haze, expecting to be told to satisfy someone sexually." "That had to be a dreadfully tragic way to live." "It makes you wonder how many other people have been brainwashed into performing despicable sexual acts to be given the drugs they depend on." "When she was working as a maid at the Trent mansion, did either of the Trent boys or Mr. Trent ever approach her for any sexual favors? Never mind, I'd rather not know, but the thought of them using her that way is driving me insane! How could they!" "Let me put your mind at ease, son. Your aunt Clare had to report to me any indiscretions that might have occurred at the Trent mansion, as a condition of her working as a sexy looking maid in a household with three adult men. An occasion arose with Tom Trent, but he never violated her decency. He merely attempted to kiss her and hold her in an endearing embrace. "She shunned him, and then reported the incident to me. I immediately had a talk with Tom Trent, and explained Clare's plight to him in sufficient detail to enable him to apologize and refrain from making further advances. Over time, he became somewhat enamored with Clare's quiet disposition and paid closer attention to her demeanor as she went about the mansion performing her daily chores. "One day, Clare was looking over Tom's shoulder while he was preparing one of the expense schedules, which was one of his responsibilities at the time. She inquired about what he was doing and why. Her sudden ability to communicate intelligibly and her interest in what he was doing prompted Tom to explain to her the mundane procedure. She caught on quickly to his explanations and continued to show an interest in it.. "Tom subsequently reported her evolving interest in bookkeeping to me, and I told him to continue explaining it to her, and show her the entire procedure. He did, and she picked up on it so well, she was able to help Tom prepare the blank schedules, alleviating him of the task. Step by step, he taught her more and more until she's been doing the household books ever since, until she went to the reconstructive clinic a few weeks ago, that is." "Joe was supposed to take over where Clare left off, but he despises doing bookkeeping and wants you to take over. He knows what has to be done, he just doesn't want to do it. He approached his dad, claiming he preferred to direct his attention to financial planning, which pleased his father. Since he is otherwise occupied, you are next in line to inherit the bookkeeping work. You seem to have the same aptitude for bookwork as Clare had." "Oh, so that's why I'm being taught to do it. Don't get me wrong, mom, but I enjoy the chore. I do get confused sometimes about where to classify some of the bills, but otherwise, it's kind of interesting. Joey's been a great help. He corrects my errors and I like having him explain what I'm doing wrong." "Good, I'm glad that you are progressing at it. Of course, you still have your housekeeping responsibilities to fulfill, you know. Do you find it difficult to bend over to clean under the dining room table and such while wearing your long trousers? Wouldn't it be easier for you if you didn't have to? Wearing a pair of shorts, you could reach down low much easier to clean underneath tables and such . Would you like me to find you some comfortable shorts to wear while you're doing your daily housekeeping?" "But, mother. I have to wear long nylon stockings to keep my waist cinchers from riding up while I'm working. If I wear shorts, my sheer nylons would be exposed to anyone who might see me." "Who would see them, darling? The Trent men are all away during the day when you're doing the dusting and polishing the furniture or cleaning up the bathrooms and in the kitchen. If you wore shorts I'm sure you could perform your duties much easier, and only you would know about the long stockings you must wear. Just you and me, that is." "Why do you want me to wear shorts to do the housework, mom?" "Well, I noticed that you put a thread pull in one pair of your good trousers rendering them unfit to wear. You stained the front of another pair with dark wood polish , and the stain won't come out. Dress trousers are expensive, whereas a pair of walking shorts only costs a few dollars. You see the point I'm making. Don't you?" "Of course mother. I'll start wearing the shorts, if you insist, but I'll be on pins and needles, worrying about Joey or Tom or the senior Mr. Trent seeing me in sheer nylon stockings. What will they think of me?" "Getting back to young Joey's paying morning and evening visits to your bedroom, I knew about his offer to wake you in the mornings and see to it you were getting up on time to do your housework during the daytime, but I didn't know about his stopping in to see you late into the evenings. Do you want me to have him to stop? I don't see the necessity of him having access to your boudoir once you've retired for the night." "No, let him continue as he has been doing. I enjoy talking to him about his day. When he wakes me in the mornings. I get all mushy inside because he takes me into his arms and treats me like a girl. Just this morning he told me I was looking so pretty in my nightwear and if I looked any more like a girl, he'd be tempted to ask me to marry him." "What does he tell you during his nocturnal visits to your bedside?" "He's even more attentive to me then, mom. Last night, he must have kissed me on my lips a dozen times, and he even fondled my pointy nipples, which felt so wonderful, I didn't want him to stop!" "That kind of behavior far exceeds his telling you about his day, Evan." Is it wrong for someone to want to have another person show an interest?" "You know better than that by now. You are mature enough to respond, --- physically, so if you two continue to meet in your boudoir, I'm fairly sure he will show you a lot more about his typical physical attraction to you. You're fortunate to be able to hide your typical male reaction to his kisses under the stiff bottom hem of your cincher, but sooner or later, he's bound to expose the stimulating effect you're having on him, darling. If he does, what do you propose to do about it?" "I doubt if Joey would do that, mom. I've told him that I'm positively not gay, and I won't be inclined do anything gay with him. He says he isn't gay either, and I believe him. So far all we've done is share a few kisses and a bit of fondling. I guarantee that it won't get any more serious than that, mom." "See that it doesn't for the time being. Maybe I should have had this talk with you when you were younger, Evan, but better late than never. You're a very gentile individual, Evan. You always were, from little on. You played with dolls instead of toy soldiers when you were a toddler, and you had a narrow escape from being subdued by stronger boy while growing up." "Do you remember when a bigger boy tried to force you to go with him into the woods with him on the way home from school. What might have the boy done to you if another bigger boy hadn't interceded and brought you home?" "He might have beaten me up and forced me to perform oral sex on him. He might have succeeded if the other boy hadn't have come along to rescue me. I was so scared at the time, you can't imagine, mom." "What did you do from then on?" "The bigger boy who rescued me walked me home after school to keep the other boy from forcing me to go into the woods with him. The bigger boy was the only thing that protected me, until the other boy took an interest in a girl in our class. He got caught at it and went away to a detention school for trying to seduce her, as I recall. After that, the other boy wanted to continue walking me home every day. He was two years ahead of me, so he went to a different school, and I didn't need an escort to get home anymore. " "No, you didn't, and the girl you spoke of, what happened to her wasn't a seduction. It would have been a rape if that nasty boy who tried to lure you into the woods with him had succeeded in luring her there. " "I know. What happened to her was the hottest subject of discussions during recess for weeks afterwards. She and her family had to move away because of rumors about her virtue. All us boys talked about what we would have done to her if we would have lured her into the woods, all except for me, because of what had happened to me. I only wondered what would have happened to me if he had successfully lured me into those woods." "Why do you think that nasty boy chose you to go into the woods with him, Evan? Did he think he had a better chance of convincing you to perform oral sex than any of the other boys or girls? If he did, why did he?" "I suppose it's because I wasn't very much of a threat to him, physically. He could have beaten me up and forced me to do anything he wanted." "Think so, Evan? Would he really have had to force you to do it?" "What are you suggesting, mom? Are you telling me you think I would have been inclined to go along and do what he wanted me to do without a fight?" "You did have to be rescued, fortunately, and so did your dad when he was captured, and he was more manly than you are. I hate to think of what might have happened to you if you weren't rescued that day. You still don't pose a serious threat to a man with the will to have his way with you." "Are you referring to Joey?" "Suppose he attempts to go beyond kissing and fondling? You haven't put up any real resistance to his advances. Have you? What do you plan to do if he tries to proceed further. I imagine a bit of mutual fondling of "the family jewels" will be the next step in your evolving gay relationship. You might as well be honest and call it what it is, Evan. You and Joey are soon to become gay lovers." "That's not true, mom! I haven't done anything at all to encourage him to become --- intimate with him! Honestly, I haven't" "Sometimes it doesn't take doing anything on purpose, just being what you are is enough to encourage a man." "Can I help it if I come off as seeming feminine to a guy? I try real hard to act more manly, but it isn't easy for me, mom! It isn't!" "Would you rather recognize your nature to see what will happen?' "With Joey, you mean?" "You have to admit that you're somewhat delicate in nature for a man. You often act almost womanly. Why don't you try accepting that inner nature of yours for a while where rape isn't a matter for concern and not try to appear manly, darling. Manliness doesn't suit you very well, Evan. Can you blame Joey if he has expressed feelings for you that transcends what is considered normal human behavior?" "Joey claims girls don't go for me because they see me as an unfair threat to them. Is he right? Is that what you're suggesting? If so, why is it so unfair?" "A man has better insight as to what is sexually exciting because of his own personal experience. He knows better the sexual triggers that makes a man have orgasms, just as a woman has keener insight as to what makes another woman have orgasms. That's why some men and women prefer to initiate relationships with a member of the same sex, darling. Do you get my hint?" "Are you saying Joe wants me to be his gay lover. That is so gross, mom!" "I think thou art protesting too loudly, my dear. Why don't you let nature take its course and see what happens tomorrow morning when Joey comes to call. Let him try to advance your relationship with him. You might enjoy it more than you think. The worst that can happen is for you to gain some personal experience of your own. I'm not saying you two should consider engaging in a lasting relationship, just have a fling of sorts. It won't kill you two to experiment. Just practice safe sex, darling. Be careful what you do. " "Mother, are you now condoning gay sex? I can't believe that, not of you! You have always been so protective of me, especially after that boy tried to lure me into the woods with him. Do you now expect me to want to enter into a gay relationship with Joey? I can't believe it!" "How far have you gotten with dating, Evan? Maybe the girls that spurned you were right and you are unfair competition. Maybe you ought to try being an object of affection instead of trying to woo one, yourself, Evan." "I wouldn't know where to begin, mom. I've never even considered doing it. Where would I begin? I haven't the slightest idea of how to present myself " "I have years of experience behind me using cosmetics. I even help women in the hospital look more attractive to their visitors after a serious surgery or a period of lying about, without any makeup . If you'd like, I'll be glad to show you how to use a bit, just a tiny bit, to enhance your chances with Joe. If you don't like the end result, you can wash it off and not try it again." "I don't know, mom. I don't want to shock him, by looking too different. It might be the wrong thing to do, I mean, now. Maybe we ought to hold off." "Are you getting cold feet on me, son. Hey, I'm your mother! Would I steer you wrong? Do you want to encourage Joey or not? You'll have to depend on my experience and skill to make you look only slightly different, but in a way that he'll appreciate you more. Let's go to your en suite vanity and see what you have available there to help you to enhance your girlish looks." "Mother, it's well after midnight. Can't we put this idea off until tomorrow evening?" I asked as she helped me off of her bed and led me by the hand back to my own bedroom suite. "There's no time like the present, and this will only take a minute or two." She had me sit on the stool before the mirrored vanity in my bedroom with my back to it while she applied a light tan powder to my cheeks with a big brush. It only took her a few seconds. She then attacked my eyebrows with a pair of tweezers. She pick out several stray hairs and then used the pencil to extend my brows, making them look longer than they are, picking out mare stray hairs she claimed were unnecessary. She finished by adding a lot more kohl to my eyelashes, claiming me eyes needed "more definition". With that done, she told me to look at myself in the mirror to see if I wanted to wash what she'd done to my face back off. I looked hard at my reflection. I looked different than before, but not really like I imagined I'd look. I didn't look like a girl at all, not really. I looked like the same guy, only cuter, someone who would make another person take a second look. I liked the effect. My eyes looked more bold and mysterious. My mom was probably right. Her experience and skill were almost effortless, but she certainly made me look more --- alluring. "Thank me in the morning while we're having breakfast, after Joey wakes you. Let me know if the look I've given you has any effect on him." She didn't say goodnight to me, or if she did, I didn't hear her. She just left me alone to gaze at my reflection in the mirror above the vanity. I had to admit, my reflection had improved. Just a few deft swipes of a brush or two, and my entire image changed dramatically, not into a female version of me, but into a better looking male version. How was I to know her applying a bit of cosmetics would change my manly appearance so nicely, without making me look like a female version of myself. Instead of wanting to wash it back off, I wanted to sleep flat- on-my-back instead, to assure the light makeup on my face wouldn't smear off. Joey woke me in the morning with a kiss. "Hi, beautiful. You look different, somehow. Don't get me wrong, I like the look, but it seems to me you found a way to look more appealing; more exotic. What did you do to your lashes and your brows? " "It was my mom's idea. She said metro men like me can be 'creative'." "Did you do it on your own?" "No, I wouldn't have known how. My mom did it in less than a minute. She said she has a knack for doing it after helping many women look decent after a long stay in a hospital without access to their own cosmetics." "I'm not complaining, but why did she want to do it for you? If I may ask." "Like I said, she thinks metro men should feel like they can be: 'creative'." "Are those her words or yours?" "They're mine. I decided to go metro last night." "Before or after she trimmed your brows? Let me guess. It was after." "You're right Joey. Once I saw my reflection in the mirror, I didn't want to wash the cosmetics back off, so I decided to leave it on. Do you like it?" "Do I like it? Let me think a moment. If I say no, will you remove it all?" "No! Absolutely not! I like it, even if you don't. I'm leaving it on." "In that case, I like it, too. In fact, I think you ought to use more cosmetics. Instead of becoming a metro man, you should go see a gynecologist to learn how you can be more feminine looking. I'd like that more. You look cuter as a girl you know, cute enough to take out dining and dancing. Really Evan, you ought to look into becoming more feminine. Gynecologists know how to help guys look more feminine, by giving them hormones and stuff either by injection or by pills, but the injections would be faster acting." "Why should I see a gynecologist --or whatever? I don't want to change my gender. I don't even want to be-- I don't know what I want to be. Go away!" "You don't have to completely change your gender Evan, but wouldn't you like to look pretty, to please me and have me treat you nice out on a date." He came up behind me and hugged me to him, with his hands on my waist, gently holding me in his arms. He then turned me around and kissed me on my lips. I should have stopped him, but I didn't. In fact, I kissed him back and begged him to play with my nipples some more. He suddenly stopped, hinting that I needed more bulk for him to want to play with my nipples, maybe even kiss them to see if they'd get any bigger. He stressed bigger. He left me high and dry, wanting him to kiss me more. Once I knew for sure he was gone, I went directly to the terrace in search of my mother. I found her having coffee with the senior Mr. Trent. He was shocked to see me in my waist cincher, nylon stocking and a diaphanous short cover- up. "What in blazes?" I rushed back off the terrace and returned to my bedroom suite to get dressed for the day. I chose long pants and a man's dress shirt I'd bought on the trip to the mall with my mother. When I was returning to the terrace, I overheard a conversation between my mom and the senior Mr. Trent. My mom said, "and so I added a bit of color to his cheeks and outlined his brows for him." I remained just outside of the terrace to learn what else she was going to say. Mom spoke up, "You can join us, Evan. I heard you approaching as I was explaining your change in appearance to Mr. Trent. It wasn't appropriate for you to surprise him by appearing for breakfast dressed in your nightgown. Thank you for coming back to us in your proper daytime male attire. Evan." Addressing Mr. Trent, my mom said, "I had my son fitted for a corrective posture garment. He's been slouching more recently and needs adjustment. I hope his odd appearance didn't startle you, Max." "I honestly was surprised, thinking for a minute Clare was back from the clinic, but she couldn't be. Then, I realized it was Evan, or should I say: Eva. It did give me a start, but then again, I've thought Evan was somewhat, how shall I put it? ---challenged?" Yes, that's what I think. He's challenged! "If he prefers to appear around the estate dressed as a woman at times, then he should dress up as one all of the time. Clare left many maids' uniforms behind that young Evan can wear while he attends to his daily chores. Well, I must say: breakfast was enlightening. I have appointments to attend to. I'll be back in time for Dinner. See to it Evan is appropriately attired." After the elder Mr. Trent left, my mom addressed me. "Did you hear what he said, Evan? He expects you to wear Clare's maid's uniforms while attending to your housekeeping duties and in casual feminine attire otherwise. I'm not surprised by his decision. You appeared our on the terrace practically nude this morning. What did you expect him to say?" "I didn't do it intentionally, mother. I wanted to speak to you about Joey." "What was so urgent that you couldn't get dressed properly, first, son? Oh, well, from now on you'll be expected to dress up as a maid while you do your housekeeping work and in dresses the rest of the time. " "I won't! I certainly don't want to wear any uniforms that are meant for a maid! Why should I have to? Explain that to me! Me wear dresses? Never!" "You may have to, son? You brought this upon yourself, you know. Would it be such an imposition on you? You surely wouldn't ruin any more pants." "Mother, ruining my pants is the least of my worries. What if Joey sees me while I'm doing the daily household chores? Just this morning he hinted that I should see a gynecologist for breast augmentation again. If he sees me in a dress, what will he ask me to do next! I get the impression that I'm being groomed by the lot of your to be next in line to hear a proposal of marriage." "Oh? Really now, Evan. Whatever makes you think that?" "As you know, Joey came to my suite this morning and he was most cordial toward me when he first arrived. Then, he did it again, mom." "He did what again? Kiss you?" "Yes, how did you guess, mom, as if I didn't know?" "It's a mother's intuition, Evan. Did you wear a diaphanous nightgown to bed last night, like I told you to wear over your nighttime waist cinch?" "Yes, and Joey saw me wearing it this morning, with my eyebrows and lashes enhanced. I suppose you expected him to see me in it. Didn't you?" "So, it's Joey now. Is it? My how your attitude has changed!" "Oh, I might have slipped there, mom. He likes for me to call him Joey now instead of Joseph or Joe, but I suppose it isn't a good idea for me to refer to him as Joey if others are around, huh?" "Tell me, Evan. Do you like to refer to him as Joey instead of Joe?" She had me there. "I suppose so, mom. He likes to hear me call him that." "When Joey came to you this morning, besides kissing you, is there anything else he did? Be truthful, now. Mothers have ways of knowing, you know." "Well, he held me in his arms. He had to, in order to kiss me or I would have held him at bay. He then ran his hands over my bum a lot, which sent a lot of shivers up and down my spine. I couldn't help enjoying his cupping my soft bottom. The waist cincher I wore to bed last night is wide open in the lower back so I don't have to remove it for performing bodily functions. It gave Joey free access to squeeze my buns, which he seemed to like doing." "It seems to me you liked to have him do it, as well. Is there anything else he does when he greets you in the morning? Does he tweak your nipples?" "Mom, you are getting too personal. Well, --- they're exposed, so it isn't his fault. It's the fault of the waist cincher you chose for me to wear. It forces my soft chest flesh up to resemble breasts, and the side straps that keep the top hem from rolling over pushes the flesh at the sides of my chest toward the center, adding more flesh to what resembles a girl's breasts. It's not his fault if my nipples show so prominently on my chest. They show off almost --- almost indecently." "I suppose he'd like them to show more boldly than they do. Doesn't he?" "Yes. He suggested I see a gynecologist for hormonal augmentation." "You already said that. Would you like to become more like your aunt Clare someday: a demi-girl? A normal male would slug another male for tweaking his male nipples. Why do you suppose you didn't slug Joey for tweaking yours, Evan?" "How could I resist, mom? I presented them to him on display, as if I wanted him to tweak them. Oh, I don't know! I guess maybe I wanted him do it! It felt real nice, so I stop him. I didn't want to stop him. There! I admit to how much I liked his caress. I enjoyed having him toy with my exposed nipples. Maybe I should wear a heavier nightgown to bed, so he won't be tempted to fondle my girlish nipples, mom. The collar of my nightgown was cut so low, it didn't cover my nipples at all, so Joey couldn't miss seeing them, mom." "Perhaps you should cover them. How long did you let him nuzzle them, Evan? Did you enjoy having him kiss your pointy nipples for you?" "Mother, I really don't think we should be having this conversation!" "Perhaps not, but if you continue to wear diaphanous, short nightgowns to bed, you'll have to expect him to treat you like an object of desire when he comes to your suite to wake you up for the day. What I'm saying is: maybe you should cover your nipples so he won't be tempted to tweak them. " "Why is it Joey's responsibility to wake me in the morning?" "He's closest to you, darling. Doesn't he tuck you in when you retire, too?" "Well, sort of. He checks in on me, sometimes, before I retire for the night. When he comes to me, he puts his arm over my shoulder, and I get fidgety feeling inside, as if I'm made out of jelly." "Of course you do, that is, almost all of you turns into jelly. Do you know what I'm suggesting?" "Yes, mom, of course I do, and you're right. One part of me doesn't turn to jelly. It does the exact opposite, and, fortunately for me, the cincher's low bottom hem in front hides it from view, or I'd be mortified if Joey saw it!" "A normal heterosexual male would not get aroused if another male put his arm around him, darling. I strongly suspect you have a degree of attraction to other males. I always thought that about you, now I'm convinced of it." "Mom, a few days ago, I wasn't even aware I had a serious posture problem, until you told me about it. These waist cinchers that you got for me make me feel sort of delicate, vulnerable and weaker, almost as if I'm a girl." "Do you like feeling like a girl inside, son? The waist cinchers seem to help your physique to look far more attractive. Don't you think? Do you like how they make you look?" "I don't know about how I look, but I know I like being treated as if I am a girl by Joey. It gives me goosebumps all over when he puts his arm around me. Should I encourage him to do it, mom? I mean, isn't that being gay?" "Isn't what you've been doing unconsciously, Evan? Encouraging him? Haven't you been leaving your bedroom door slightly ajar so he can look in on you?" "He's been waking me in the mornings, mom because I've slept through the alarm clock ringing. I don't want to make life difficult for him to get me up when I'm supposed to get up." "It seems to me you prefer to make it easier for him to access your suite. Do you like him, I mean, do you really like Joe? If so, there are a few things you can do with ease to encourage him, you know." "What kind of things are your referring to, mom?" She led me by the hand a second time without speaking, back to my suite of rooms and had me sit on the small chair before my mirrored vanity with my back to it. She took a large round brush and put it on a pad, picking up a lot of powder from the pad. She spread the powder onto my cheeks and used a dry tissue to wipe most of it back off again, leaving almost none behind. She then attacked my brows, pulling more stray hairs out that she claimed were untidy and unnecessary. That hurt like the blazes! When she was done with pulling out hairs, she took a dark pencil and made my brows look more 'definitive'. She then told me to hold still as she added a bit more kohl to my eyelashes, she said, just the right amount. She then told me to turn around to see what she'd done in the mirror above my vanity. "Wow!" Was all that I could think of to say, for a second time. If she'd said good day to me before she left me, I didn't hear her. I gazed into the mirror at my reflection, amazed. I look more like a girl than I did before; yet I still looked like a man, but a different man, one with much more charisma, more metro looking, well groomed. I liked what she had done to my appearance, and hoped Joey would like it, too. If my mom was going to enforce me to follow the elder Mr. Trent's directive regarding my wearing maid's uniforms while doing my household chores, I intended to enjoy dressing in my male clothes for as long as possible. I really didn't look forward to be wearing those uniforms with an open bottom skirt, leaving my nyloned legs on display for all to see. I started to clean up the breakfast dishes in the kitchen when my mom came up behind me. "Aren't you supposed to be wearing a uniform for doing your household chores, Evan?" She asked somewhat sternly. I wasn't expecting to have Mr. Trent's directive enforced so soon. "Must I so soon, mom?" I asked. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to wear the maid's uniforms until Mr. Trent sees me wearing male clothes again and he makes another comment about how I'm not properly dressed for work." "He was pretty clear when he made the directive. Don't you think?" I sighed, knowing my mom was determined to put me in one of the uniforms my Aunt Clare, my transgendered dad, for cry bones, had been wearing! "The sooner you begin wearing one of Clare's uniforms to do your chores, the better. I know you're familiar with wearing women's lingerie by now, but more practical day wear is a little different, so I'll help you get dressed the first few times, until you feel you can manage doing it on your own. "The major difference is that the buttons of the blouses are on the opposite side, so you'll have to get used to that. Other than that, not having anything covering your legs whenever you're wearing a skirt takes a bit acclimation. Maybe that's what Max - The elder Mr. Trent meant when he said it would be a challenge to you. I think you'll enjoy feeling free as a bird without your legs being covered up by tight pants, in time." She held the skirt for me to step into, and fastened it at my waistline, pulling it in tight. The skirt would not have fit me if it weren't for the waist cincher. She smiled, knowing I wasn't too happy to be wearing a skirt. "You'll get used to the sensation of the nylons rubbing against the inside of a skirt in no time at all, Eva. Keep in mind that you'll have to shorten your stride while wearing a skirt. Now, let's select a top to go with the skirt. Shall we?" "Must we, mother?" "You might as well get used to the idea. Oh, my, your nipples show right through this silk blouse. Take the blouse back off Evan; oops, Eva." "Please stop calling me 'Eva', mom. What's wrong with the blouse, mother? It felt so nice against my shoulders I didn't mind wearing it at all." "You'll have to pay closer attention to your appearance, Eva. You pointy nipples were too clearly evident in the front of that blouse." "Oh, maybe I should remove the waist cincher. It makes them stick out." "You know you need the waist cinchers to improve your posture. I have a better idea. Fortunately, you don't stick out much, so an "A" cup will suffice more than enough in a bra size to hide your irreverence. Hold out your arms so I can slip the shoulder straps over them, darling. That's it; now affix the two parts of the metal clasp, once I have the garment in place on your chest. "I know you aren't accustomed to wearing a bra, dear, but you simply can't go around without one, now, not with your nipples protruding so much. You won't even notice you're wearing it after a while." "That's what you said about my wearing the waist cinchers. Don't think you are fooling me for one second, mom. You're intentionally dressing me up like a girl to make me more attractive looking to Joey. I feel like I'm being led by you down a primrose lane directly into womanhood. I'm not sure if I should let you do it or not, but I know it wouldn't do me any good to resist. I must admit: It seems like a lot of fun. Does this skirt make me look fat?" "I've created a monster! Don't you worry about Joey seeing you as a fat girl, or the senior Mr. Trent, for that matter? Just do your chores and we'll find something more attractive than these plain maid's outfits for you to wear to dinner tonight. It wouldn't be proper for you to wear a maid's dress and sit with family at the dinner table. " "Why can't I dress as a male for dinner, mom?" "You heard Mr. Trent's directive. He won't have you wearing male attire here at the mansion from now on. Give it time. He may relent, if his son Joe fails to take an interest in you." "So you are all in on it, eh?" "Are we in on what, Eva? You brought this upon yourself by appearing on the terrace almost naked this morning." "It wouldn't have happened if you didn't put me into a sleep time flimsy waist cincher that gives others the impression I have ---breasts, mother!" "One thing has nothing to do with the other. Oh, let's not quibble, Eva! Do your chores and come to me when you are finished. You can wear a subtle skirt and blouse while you attend to your bookkeeping work." "It had better be subtle, mother. I don't want Joey to think I wanted to wear women's clothes. If you see him, you'll be sure to tell him it was his father's idea and not mine. Won't you, mother?" "Why do you persist in resisting the inevitable, Eva? Joey's bound to find you attractive looking this evening in a modest skirt and blouse ensemble. You should be thankful to be working, regardless of how you must dress for the job. It's a minor inconvenience, as far as I can see. Half of the world's population wears dresses, or skirts and blouses all the time. You don't hear them complaining. Do you?" "It's appropriate for them, mom." "It's appropriate for a maid to wear a maid's uniform, as well. You took it upon yourself to show up on the terrace in a diaphanous nightgown. How do you think it looked to Mr. Trent? Be thankful I don't send you to see Clare's gynecologist and have her put you on feminizing hormones, so you'll fill out that dress properly. You inadvertently initiated this venture; you should try to do your best to present yourself as an attractive young lady. Becoming a trophy wife, even one who doesn't provide a man sexual gratification, is an old and honored profession." "It would be honorable for me if I was a woman, mom, but I'm a guy, for crying out loud. I'd be the laugh of the community!" "Times have changed. There is no reason you can't appear to be a female, even if you retain your male appendage. No one looks into a bride's panties these days to see if she is a real girl, my dear. If you don't blatantly expose your masculine origin, no one will fault you. You can become Joey's bride. "Joey will be a fine catch for you Eva, unless you insist on siring children of your own. Even then, we could have your sperm cryogenically frozen for that eventuality. Choose to become more feminine looking for him and you will be able to lounge around all day long beside your mother if you'd like. "You can pretend to be the daughter that I've always wanted, but could never have, because your dad sadly was required to go off to fight a war and left me with you to raise by myself. You were never very manly. Even when you were a child, you preferred to play with paper dolls, and never wanted to play with tin soldiers, cowboys, cars or trucks. "Seeing you choose to play with the other little girls living in our apartment complex led me the conclusion that you would naturally follow along this path upon growing up. When you entered high school, you changed. You suddenly became more masculine. I don't know what brought that about. Maybe it was peer pressure. You had to fit in with the other boys." "It could be, mom. I know being gay was frowned upon, so I didn't want to be an outcast. I wanted to be accepted as one of the guys. Now, I'm not so sure it will be in my best interest to try to 'fit in' with the guys, if I have to dress as a woman every day to do my job. Seeing as how I wasn't getting anywhere with dating girls, maybe I ought to let go and submit to my inner nature. Maybe I should see a gynecologist, like Joey suggested." "Wonderful! I know just the one. She is very understanding and she'll treat you as if you are a girl going through puberty. More than likely, she'll start you on Premarin and spironolactone, a mild testosterone blocker. In a few months, your skin will become softer and smoother and then you'll begin to feel differently about how you dress. A few months further down the road and you'll need bigger bras, because you will begin to fill out, naturally." 9. The rest of this story is fairly easy to imagine, and it can go wherever the reader would like. Evan can rebel at the last minute, or he can embrace his future as Joey's love. It's all up to you, dear reader.