"Don't bother," he said. "Stay where you are. I'll come to you."
He dropped to his knees and laid his body close to mine. I tried to squirm away from him, but he had me against a wall. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. He tried to kiss me.
And that was when I threw up right in his face!
And he reacted about as you'd expect. A mixture of shock, disgust, and anger. He squinted and tried to wipe some vomit out of his eyes.
I didn't say anything. I stumbled to my feet and lunged for the door. I took a quick look at my dress. There weren't any stains.
When I got outside, I allowed myself a little smile. He deserved it. Big time.
He didn't try to chase me or call out after me.
I staggered to a gas station and asked if I could use the phone. They acted like they'd never seen a person without a cell phone before. I called my mother. While I was waiting for her I managed to sober up at least a little bit. But I was still staggering out to the car when she arrived.
"Are you drunk?" she asked, in an accusatory tone.
"He kept plying me with martinis. There was nothing I could do."
"You could say no."
"Oh, NOW I can say no!"
I explained what had happened. When I got to the end of the story, she laughed and started slapping the steering wheel with her hand.
"Right in his face!" she exclaimed.
"Mom, why aren't you angry at him! He plied me with alcohol, he got me drunk, and it's all just a big joke to you! How can you pimp me out this way? You wouldn't do that to my sisters!"
"That's different. You can't get pregnant."
"I could've gotten beat up if he'd seen what I look like without this dress on!"
"Listen, one day you might have a girl in the same position that you were just in. Except that she'll be the one wearing the dress. And you'll know not to try to take advantage of her, like he did."
For some reason, this just caused me to start crying. I cried uncontrollably. She said nothing. She just waited.
"Mom," I said, "tell me the truth! Tell me why you treat me like this! It's not because you can't afford to get boy clothes for me. That's bullshit!"
"You watch your mouth, young lady."
"I'm not a lady! I'm a boy! Why do you make me dress like a girl? You can't get even with Dad by making me wear dresses! Dad is gone!"
She was quiet for more than two minutes. In works of fiction, the author says that someone was quiet for a minute, and he just doesn't seem to have any idea how incredibly long a minute really is. Well, this isn't a work of fiction, this is a true story, and I was there, and I know it was at least two minutes before she said anything.
"Do you remember the first time I made you wear a dress? You were chasing your sisters all over the house with a super-soaker squirt gun. They were just running away helplessly and screaming. And I thought, you're twice his size! Take the gun away from him and sit on him! And I just knew we'd have another male terrorizing the household the way your father used to do."
"For that you made me wear dresses for eleven years? That's crazy!"
"It worked, didn't it?"
"If by 'worked' you mean got me bullied every day of my life and made it impossible for me to ever date a girl, then yeah, it worked."
"No one ever said you couldn't date girls."
"Oh come on, Mom! Look at me! What girl is going to date me? What are we going to do on a date? Go dress shopping?"
"You're an A student. You didn't bother trying to be cool. You couldn't be cool in a pretty dress. You never got in fights because you were afraid you'd rip your skirt."
I started crying again. She drove on silently.
Finally she said, "You promise to treat your sisters right? You promise you'll never treat any girl the way Mr. Bellam treated you? If you do, you'll be back in a cute little dress so fast it will make your head spin."
"What do you mean, back in a dress? What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, you're free. You can be a boy. I'll buy you some boy clothes tomorrow."
I couldn't believe my ears!
"Really? No more dresses? No more bras, or girdles, or pantyhose? No more high heels?"
"Mr. Bellam is going to keep trying to have his way with you. The best thing to do is make Marilyn disappear."
"What about my hair?"
"We'll get it cut tomorrow."
She was silent for a little while. Then she said, "Are you sure about this? You're so pretty in a dress. Prettier than all your sisters."
"Please don't say that. Please don't take it back. I'm begging you."
"Are you going to run away?"
"If you'll just let me be a boy, I swear, I'll stay on the farm forever."
When we got home, we told my sisters the news. I didn't even wait to hear their reactions. I was too eager to tear off my dress and my lingerie and my high heels, and wash off all my make-up.
The next morning, my overalls and all the rest of my meager boy clothes were waiting for me. I got up and got dressed. Dressed as a boy!
I heard Mr. Bellam out in the living room, wanting to talk to Marilyn.
"Marilyn has gone to live with her aunt," said my Mom. "We thought it was best."
I heard them arguing. I realized I couldn't let him see me with my hair the way it was. So I sneaked into the bathroom and got out the electric razor, and plugged it in.
I didn't hesitate. I shaved myself bald.
When I came out, my mother didn't even react to my bald head, probably because she'd hear the razor going.
I'd missed most of the argument. She was saying, "You just try it and I'll have the law on you for contributing to the delinquency of a minor."
"Hi, Mom. Who's this?" I asked. "Oh, I remember. I met you once before. Mr. Bellam."
We shook hands. He didn't recognize me and had no interest in me at all. I walked past him and went out to the barn and got to work.
That year we had our best year ever. We brought in a bumper crop and paid a lot of our outstanding bills.
Quite frankly, I think that the problem all along was that I couldn't do a decent day's work in a dress and high heels.
THE END
Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Topic: Farm Girl (Read 22567 times)
