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Author Topic: Simon  (Read 40340 times)

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Betty

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Re: Simon
« Reply #14 on: July 26, 2019, 05:47:53 PM »
From our story rules,
http://buffalobetties.net/fiction/index.php?topic=30.0

"* Story Part Sizes - Parts can be no more than about 8.5k in size. For standard browser text, that's about 2 screens worth here, or about enough to fill 6-8 of those little text boxes you type or paste your part into. It won't be a strict limit. A little over won't matter. Over-sized parts make oversized data packets which can be lost or corrupted during backing it up, archiving, repairs, or retrieving it. Many servers won't even accept oversize data packets, so would make it difficult if we have to move it or us to another server."

Thanks.


Simonssister

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Re: Simon
« Reply #15 on: July 26, 2019, 07:33:35 PM »
Noted.  Apologies & thanks.  Simonssister


Simonssister

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Re: Simon
« Reply #16 on: July 29, 2019, 06:13:43 AM »
Chapter X:  Barbecue  (Part 1)

That was the simple process by which we made Simon into our little boot whore, though he didn’t realise it at the time.  Pity for him he didn’t read the small print.  Never mind.  I say “we”, because by the time we had hatched the plot we had a little committee consisting of Sue, Rebecca, Bea and me.  Sandra was a bit ambiguous about the whole thing early on, but thought she’d see where it went.  As long as Simon was enjoying himself she didn’t have any serious objections.  I’d also had a word with Miss Benson after the show and we’d agreed we keep in touch as we had a common interest in Simon’s costumes.  But this was for the future.  Back to that week after the show.  On Sunday morning, Alice called for Simon and they went off to meet Debbie and her mum, according to Alice to look at costumes for the barbecue the next weekend.  Bea was a little taken aback at Simon’s willingness to get involved, but she attributed it to his improved behaviour and the steady disappearance of his aggressive moods.  He was certainly becoming a lot more tractable, and he was also full of excitement about his new job, and eager to tell anyone prepared to listen about his new premises at Holly End.


Sunday 26th June.  I stayed at Garden Road last night.  I was so tired I fell asleep immediately.  I dreamt I was tethered to the floor in a stable.  I had a rubber bit in my mouth and boots were constantly coming and going, and people prodding me with whips.  I woke at five, all hot and bothered, still a little sore from the day before, my night-time pants at full stretch.  I touched myself gently for a few seconds and that was enough.  I had to bite my pillow so as not to cry out.  Then I felt better.  I fell back to sleep and didn’t wake till nine.  Stella brought me a cup of tea and ruffled my hair.
“How are you today, sleepy-head?  Alice is already here.  It’s okay, take your time.  She’s having breakfast with mum.  I hear you’re going round to Mrs Travers’ house to talk about the barbecue.”
“Yes.  About costumes and stuff.”
“Well ring us if you think of anything you want.  Your aunt’s still got loads of new clothes stashed away.”
“Yeah, I know.  I will.”

I drank my tea, got up, showered and dressed.  It was nice to get back into jeans and plain T-shirt for a bit.  I made my way down to the kitchen.
“Hi, Alice.”
“Hi, Simon.  How are you feeling?  You must be knackered after yesterday.”
“A bit.  What time we supposed to be at Debbie’s?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter.  Eleven or so?  Thanks for saying you’d come.  I thought you might not be up for it.”
“Oh, no, that’s all right.  Debbie’s okay.  I like her really.”
“She is a bit of a tease.”
“Yeah, true, but she can’t help herself.  I don’t take any of that seriously.  She’s witty – I like that.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to wear on Saturday?”
“Not really.  I need to recover from yesterday first.”
“There’s a lot of things here you haven’t seen, dear,” said my aunt,  shall I show you?”
“Not right now, thank you aunt.”
“Oh, yes please, Bea!” cried Alice, “I’d love to see!”
I sighed a resigned sigh, and bit into a piece of toast.  The other three were opening boxes which had been stashed in the cupboard, and rifling through piles of horrifyingly pretty-looking clothes.  A gasp of delight from Alice.
“Ooh, Simon!  Look at these!”  She held up a satiny-looking silver blouse, with lace-trimmed collar and puff sleeves.  “What about this?”
“It’s okay I suppose.  I want to think about it.  I’m not making any decisions right now.”  But I looked at the blouse with some interest.  There was some idea, some feeling in the back of my mind, which I couldn’t yet articulate.  I could feel I wanted something new, something indefinable.
“That would be a good choice,” said my aunt.  “Actually I bought it to go with these.”  She handed Alice a pair of red latex hot-pants with silver frills and braces. 
“Oh my god, Simon, they’re perfect!” she cooed, holding them up for me to see.  “And look!”  She turned them round and across the bum, in big silver capitals, was the single word, “HOT!”
“Oh, that’s so crass, Alice!” I said.  That’s a definite no.  I’m not going to be a clown again just so you and your friends can tease me all day.  Forget it!”
“Oh, spoilsport,” she whined, “I think they’re sweet.”  She smiled innocently.  “Chloe and Charlotte were sort of hoping you might wear something like they saw you in at my house.  You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?”
“Well I’m not, so there!”  I replied, reddening.  “Do you know who else is going to be there?”
“Yes.  There’s me and Debbie, of course, and there’ll be five of our friends.  Chloe and Charlotte of course  – they’re so excited, Simon - and maybe another one or two of Chloe’s friends.  And you.”
“So like ten odd girls and me?  Okay, I’m not making an exhibition of myself yet again.”
“You’ll do as your told, young man!” said my aunt with a smile that was not altogether benign.
“Oh, aunt, come on!  Give me a break for once.”
“Well anyway,” said Alice, “most of us have already decided our costumes.  We’ll show you at Debbie’s.  But there’s less than a week left, so you’ll have to make a decision today.  Maybe you’ll find something you like in Mrs Travers’ catalogue, or on line.”

We set off to walk to Debbie’s about quarter to eleven, and got there just after.  Mrs Travers opened the door.   
“Alice!  And Simon!”  She shook my hand and ushered us in.  Mrs Travers worked for a clothing retailer.  She was always smartly-dressed, even at home on a Sunday.  “I haven’t seen you for ages.  You’re still growing, I see.  Upwards at least.”
“It’s been a while all right, Mrs Travers.  Nice to see you again.”
“Come in and have some drinks.  Debbie’s making cakes.”
“I can smell them.  Yum!”
“You know Grant, don’t you?”  Grant was Debbie’s big brother.  He had been at Queen Alexandra but was now at college.  He was okay, though I never had anything to do with him, really.  In general, people in higher forms took no notice of younger kids, and vice versa.  “Grant has volunteered to manage the barbecue.  Not that I don’t trust the girls, but when I get back from work I’d prefer that the house was still standing.”
“Sorry, mum, can’t guarantee that,” said Grant.  “But Mike’s coming over to help protect me from the screaming hoards.”
Debbie appeared from the kitchen, wearing an apron over her jeans and with flour on her denim shirt.  “Shut up, Grant!” she retorted, “We won’t be screaming unless that horrid Mike of yours starts chasing us around, like he did the last time he came over!”
“You hope!  It’s not his fault if you fancy him, is it?”
“I don’t, idiot!”  But Debbie turned red and quickly changed the subject.  “Anyway, we’ve got everything organised except some of the costumes.  Simon?  It’s going to be a dance themed party, so all the girls will be wearing dance dresses.  Like modern dance, not ballroom or anything.  My mum can get some of them from her work.  She already sorted out Chloe and Charlotte and Chloe’s friend Amelia.   Mum, can we see the catalogue, please?”
“Have something to eat first, and then we’ll get down to business,” said Mrs Travers.  “Chloe and her friends have already chosen, so they’ve gone off to Amelia’s for the day.  They’re having three matching witch outfits in pink, blue and green spandex.”
“Appropriate choice,” said Grant, a remark which everyone ignored.

It was after twelve by the time we had filled ourselves with Debbie’s cakes and fizzy drinks. 
Mrs Travers opened her laptop and the girls started looking through page after page of dance dresses, mainly hip-hop and jazz stuff.  They seemed to like all of them.  “Ooh, that so pretty!”  “That would look great on you!”  “I love the sparkles!”  And so on.  I was taking a cursory interest, but I was thinking how I might get away with some more conservative attire than was planned for me.  I was staring blankly at the screen, my eyes unfocussed, when something slipped past that caught my attention.  “Hold on!  Could you go back a couple of pages, Mrs Travers?”  She scrolled back.  “There!  That’s it.  That’s my costume!”
The girls looked at me, astounded.  I had picked out a girl’s costume, a little pink top with a white collar and white flared skirt.  I hadn’t noticed at that first glance but it was supposed to be a waitress outfit, and the girl wearing it was carrying a little tray of food!  I didn’t know why, but for some reason my heart had skipped a beat when I saw it.  I just knew I had to have it!
“Are you sure, Simon?”
“Yes, I’m sure.  Is it available?”
“Let me check.  Hmm, yes…it’s discontinued by there are a few left.  I’ll need to measure you to make sure I get the right size.”
“I’ll pay you for it, of course.  I’ve got money saved up.”
“Okay.  It won’t be very expensive.  You really like it, don’t you?”
I suddenly felt embarrassed.  Alice and Debbie were staring at each other with delighted surprise.  “Yeah, it’s okay.  You know…I’d sooner blend in with the girls.  It’s not fun being the only boy.”
“Yes, Simon!  You can be Simone again next Saturday!” cried Alice.
“This is even better than soppy latex pants,” said Debbie.  “You can be one of our girl friends for real!”
“And he can be our waitress, and bring us our food!”
“Yeah!”
I was momentarily overwhelmed with doubt.  Why had I had such a strong reaction to this costume?  I tried to rationalise my feelings, while Debbie’s mum measured me and placed the order.  I looked at the picture again.  It was certainly a cute little outfit, and the girl wearing it looked so happy.  That’s how I felt I was going to be – happy.  Comfortable.  Carefree.  Full of joy and vivacity.  Free!  That was the key, somehow – freedom!  As near being a real girl as was possible.  Was that what I had really been searching for?
“Would you like me to print you off a copy of the picture, Simon?”
“Oh, yes please, Mrs Travers.  Then I can put it in my diary.”
“Okay.”
Debbie was reading out the description.  “Waitress costume with ice-cream logo.  Blouse in shiny spandex with puff sleeves.  Skirt in poly/spandex with tricot underskirt and pink briefs.  Cuffs and waistband trimmed with sparkly sequin bands, skirt with pink and silver sparkly ric-rac.”
“Ooh, Simone, pink briefs too!  Lucky girl!”  I didn’t care.  I was buzzing with excitement, not fully understanding why.  Yes, I would bring the others their food!  I wanted them all to see me, to see how good I could look as a girl.
“Mum, can you send me that picture so I can show my friends?”
“Debbie,” I interrupted, “please could you keep it a secret?  Is that possible?  I’d really like it if I could surprise everyone at the barbecue.”  I didn’t want half the school trying to gatecrash.
“Yes, girls,” said Mrs Travers, “Simon’s right.  That’s a sensible idea.  You might get other children  coming round and spoiling the party.  Do you see what I mean?  Afterwards you can do what you like, if Simon agrees.”
“Simone, mummy!  Yes, I do see.  Let’s keep it as our secret, Alice!”
“Yes, that’s right.  And you, Grant.”
“Oh, don’t worry.  All your most boring secrets are safe with me!”
Alice was looking at me thoughtfully.  “Sim, do you remember when Sandra was making you up?  Maybe….”
“Yes!  A little make-up too.  You’d be the cutest of everyone!” screamed Debbie.
I gulped.  I could hardly breathe.  “Yes.  That would be….  Alice, do you think you could ask Sandra for me if she could…… just a little, perhaps?”
“Of course, Simon.  I’ll ask her tonight.  I know she’d love to.”
And so my course was set.  I went home that evening and told Bea, and showed her the picture.  She smiled a strange, knowing smile. 
“At last, Simon.  It’s a very pretty first costume.”
“First?”
“You know, first girlie costume.  Pink panties as well.  Very nice.  I think you’d better have a pair of thin latex briefs to wear underneath, don’t you?   Just to keep you in check, as it were.”
“Yes, aunt.  That’s a good idea.  Please don’t tell anyone about this.  It’s a secret until Saturday.”
“Of course.  Don’t worry.  But I’m so pleased for you.  I think it’s going to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before.”
I went to bed still excited, but strangely peaceful, and fell asleep thinking about the barbecue.

Simonssister

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Re: Simon
« Reply #17 on: July 30, 2019, 06:01:15 PM »
Chapter X:  Barbecue  (Part 2)

Monday 27th June.  Before I left for school this morning I got a call from Sandra.
“What you doing after school, Sim?”
“Nothing.”
“Want to come get your ears pierced?  I’ve heard about next Saturday.  I’ve seen a picture of your costume.  If you get them done today, with luck you’ll be able to wear earrings by the weekend.  I’ve seen some that would be perfect.  What do you say?”
“Yeah, sure, San.  Can I meet you somewhere?”
“I’ll wait for you outside school.  We can walk to the jewellers in the High Street.  They’re fine for piercings and that’s where I’ve seen the earrings I want to get you.”

Sandra was waiting for me when I got out.  I saw her tall black-clad figure as soon as I left the school buildings, attracting attention from the boys as they left through the school gates.  We went straight to Tilly’s the jewellers.  While I sat there getting the piercings, Sandra was buying earrings.  It hardly hurt at all.  They put a pair of little gold keepers in for me, and we went for coffee next door.
“What did you buy?”
“Here.  Happy dressing-up.”
I opened the little box.  Two tiny ice-cream cones with pink ice-cream scoops!
“Wow.  Perfect!  Thank you, Sandra.  That’s so clever of you!”
“You deserve it.  I’ve hardly ever seen anything so cute at that outfit you chose.  I want you to wear it when we go out to dinner together.”
“Yeah?  I will if you say so.”
“Oh, I insist!”  And she leant over the table, took me by the chin, and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips.  Sitting back, she added, “I’m taking Alice on Saturday.  Shall I pick you up on the way?  We need to be there by about eight because there’ll be preparations to make, and I’m going to be doing your make-up.”
“Thanks.  Yes, that would be great.  I’ll be ready by half seven, then.”
“Perfect!”

Wednesday 29th June.  My piercings are fine.  I’ve been washing them as instructed and I think I’ll definitely be able to wear my new earrings on Saturday.  This evening I was in my bedroom when my aunt called me.
“Simon?  Mrs Travers would like to talk to you.”  I ran down and grabbed the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Simon.  Cynthia Travers here.  Good news.  Your costume arrived this afternoon.  It’s all ready for you.  There’s even a little headband hat.  I was just wondering what you would like to do.”
“Oh, thank you so much!  Could you just keep it there?  I was planning to come over early on Saturday with Alice and Sandra.  Sandra’s going to help me get ready.”
“Of course.  Fine.  Why don’t you have breakfast here?  All you’ll need is shoes and socks, but your aunt says she’ll arrange that.  It looks lovely, by the way.  There’s even a little headband hat to go with it.”
“Gosh, I can’t wait!”
“Oh, and Debbie said you should probably have a tray if you wanted to play your part properly.  So I’ve found you a little round plastic one you can carry.  It’s not very big but you could probably serve a couple of burgers or ice-creams on it.”
“Great!  That’s very thoughtful of you.  I’m really looking forward to it.”
After I’d put the phone down Bea said,
“I looked closely at the picture.  I think the little girl is wearing tap shoes.  Unfortunately you don’t have anything like that, but I was thinking your pink Mary Janes would go perfectly.  You could wear them with white ankle socks or tights.”
“Ankle socks please, aunt.  I want to look as like the girl in the picture as possible.  Did you find my underbriefs?”
“Yes, darling.  Here we are.”  She produced a tiny pair of frilled pink latex panties from her drawer.  “They’re very fine but the rubber is strong.  When you put your costume panties on over them, the frills will look as though they belong to them.  Not that anyone will see them underneath that gorgeous skirt, but it will all help you feel like a real girl.  Here, take them now and keep them in your room till Saturday.  And here are your shoes and socks as well.”
She dumped them into my arms and I scampered off upstairs excitedly.  Things were really coming together now!

Saturday 2nd July.  I was up before seven, had a shower and washed my hair.  I dressed in shorts, T-short and sandals.  I packed my few accessories in my rucksack, together with my toothbrush and toilet bag in case I needed them.  My aunt had found a pink leather evening bag, no bigger than a purse, with a silver clasp, into which she’d put an embroidered handkerchief and a little bottle of scent.  This time I accepted her gift happily.  The concept of girlhood no longer seemed remote, not the possibilities unattainable.  I waited nervously for the girls to arrive. 
At twenty to eight Sandra’s car drew up outside.  I was watching from the front window.  I grabbed my bag and ran to meet her at the door.  Today no black leather.  Jeans and a blue shirt knotted around her waist.  Ankle boots.  She threw her arms round me and lifted me off the ground for a second.  She set me down and I ran to the car and jumped in the back behind Alice.
“Hi Sim.  Big day. Yay!”
“Yeah.”
“You have earrings as well, I’m told.” 
“I do!”  I took the box out of my pocket and passed it to her.  She lifted the lid and laughed.
“Oh my god, perfect!  I can’t wait for you to be all dressed up.”
Sandra climbed back into the car and we set off for Debbie’s house.
“What are you and the others wearing?”
“We’ve all got different costumes.  They all have weird names.  I’m ‘Baby Doll’.  Debbie’s is called ‘Poodle’, for no better reason than that there’s a poodle on her shirt.  Then there’s Ophelia. She has ‘Could it be Magic’ – that’s an amazingly cute little pink and blue outfit.  Several of us wanted that but she bagsied it first.  Then there’s Ruth, Helen, Maia and Viola.  Ruth has got something called ‘Top of the Class’ I think – which she definitely isn’t!  Viola is “Dance Music’, which is really nice and simple, a bit like yours, but a stripy top and a shiny pink skirt.  And Helen… let me think.  Oh, yes, Helen is a really pretty black and purple dress called ‘Stole the Show’.  Maia?  She always has to be different.  She thinks she’s like, really cool, if you know what I mean.  She’s chosen these sort of  black spandex leggings and top, with a black scarf round her neck. She reckons she’s going to wear them with ankle boots, though if she does then it’s not really a dance costume, is it?  I mean, you can’t do modern dance in ankle boots, can you?  I think the only reason is she wants to look grown up so she can flirt with Mike.”
“I thought you liked Mike.”
“Oh, he’s okay.  I don’t care really.  I didn’t want to invite her anyway.”
“So why did you?”
“Because we had to invite Helen, we both like her.  And for some reason she and Maia are always hanging out together.  So we had to take them as a pair.”
“Complicated.  Yeah, I’ve noticed Maia is a bit snooty, like she’s better than everyone else.  I hope there’s no friction at the barbecue.”
Oh, no, don’t worry Simon.  I think we can all manage to get on with each other for a few hours.  I like all the others anyway.  You can make up your own mind about Maia, and you’ll get to see all the costumes yourself.  You’ll be as pretty as any of them, I can tell you!”

When we arrived at the Travers residence, there were already three half-dressed little witches running around. 
“Simon!” cried Chloe excitedly, “What are you dressing up as?  Are you wearing your purple pants?  Or new ones?”
“You’ll have to wait and see, Chloe,” I said.  “So you’re the blue witch, then?”  She had blue hair and blue lipstick and a blue leotard beneath swathes of black gauze.
“Yes, I’m the blue witch, Charlotte’s the green witch, and Amelia’s the pink witch.”
“Which witch is the most witchy of the lot?”
“I am, of course, because blue witches are the most evil ones of all!”  And she gave me her most evil grimace and cackle.  “But wait till Alice has finished putting our black make-up on and then you’ll be really terrified!”
“Well, I’ve got to get dressed, Chloe.  I’ll see you later.”
“Purple and pink ones, please, Simon!”
“Come on,” said Sandra, “let’s get you ready.”  She had brought her make-up case from the car.
“You can use the big bedroom,” said Mrs Travers.  “You’ll find Simon’s costume on the chair.”
“Thanks, Cynthia,” said Sandra, and led the way.  “Go and get dressed first.  Call me when you’re ready and I’ll come and do your make-up.”  She left, laying her case on the bed and closing the door behind her.  I saw my costume neatly folded on the dressing-table stool.  I unfolded it carefully and held it up against myself.  I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.  I have to admit I was trembling slightly with excitement.  My first girl’s dress!  I laid it on the bed and opened my rucksack.  First, on went the latex underbriefs, followed by the pink spandex briefs.  Just as auntie had said, the pink latex frills looked as though they belonged to the costume panties.  Then the costume itself, which was all in one piece.  I unzipped the front zip a few inches, pulled it over my head and got my arms through the sleeves.  The body of it was so stretchy it was very easy to put on.  I pulled it down until the waistband fitted snugly around my waist, and zipped up the zip against to the collar.  I walked up and down a little.  The crisp, shiny skirt, supported on its frothy underskirt, bounced a little as I walked, lightly tickling my thighs.  I pulled out my shoes and socks and managed to get them on without having to sit down and crush my skirt – not that it would have mattered, but I felt irrationally concerned about creasing it.  I returned to the mirror, still buzzing with  nervous tension, and tried to take in my transformed self.  It was stupid, I thought, considering the outfits I had been wearing, that this simple costume should have such an effect.  I stared at myself.  I could easily be female.  I started to understand how those kids had no difficulty believing I was a girl.  My face no longer looked like that of an adolescent boy, the way I had got used to seeing it.  If it hadn’t been for my mass of unkempt hair I could almost be a girl.  I was breathing hard, and feeling slightly dizzy, so I sat down on the stool, making sure I didn’t sit on my skirt.  I forced myself to inhale slowly and deeply, until I felt a bit calmer.  Then I called Sandra.
She must have been waiting outside the door.
“Oh, my….  You look…. You’re beautiful!”
Too much, I thought.  I can’t deal with my own reaction and hers all at the same time.
“I’m just a bloke in a dress, San,” I said, deadpan. 
“Oh, no, you’re a bit more than that.  And you’re not even finished yet.”
She made me stand up again, and fussed around rearranging the costume, straightening my socks, and running her fingers through my hair, trying to get it to lie down.
“There’s nothing for it.  It’s the gel.  Sit back down on that stool and face the mirror.”
She opened her case and pulled up a chair beside me.  She started by combing my hair back from my forehead as hard as she could.  I emitted a little cry of protest.
“Don’t complain.  I’ve only just started.”
She worked a foamy gel into my hair and combed again. After a while the bulk had disappeared and it lay relatively flat on my head.  She applied a doubled-up hairband to keep in place, and then somehow wound the ponytail into a tight bun, which she secured with innumerable hairpins.  “This is almost long enough to plait, young man!”  When she was satisfied it was quite secure, she picked up the little headband waitress hat, and slid it firmly in place.
“There.  First phase done.  Do you have your new earrings?
“In my bag.”
She found the box and replaced the keepers with the little ice-cream cones. 
“Perfect for this outfit, aren’t they?  Now for the face.”
I still wasn’t in any way relaxed, but as Sandra started to work on my face, her hair tickling my cheek and my nostrils full of her scent, I experienced a sense of immense well-being.
“No eye-liner.  Too hard.  The merest touch of pink eye shadow, a little mascara, a little face-powder, a hint of rouge.  That’s all you need.  Oh, and some appropriate lip-gloss, of course.”
I was pretty calm, right up to the lip gloss.  But as she started to paint my lips, working with such intense care and precision, I began to become aroused.  I was gripping my thighs in a determination to keep absolutely still, and she must have noticed my fingers were digging into my flesh.
“Relax, Simon.  I’m nearly done here.”
I tried to reply but she shushed me.  “Keep still.  You can speak after it’s dried.”
At last she was finished.  She sat back to admire her work. 
“That’s about the best I can do.  Wait till you see yourself.”
I was breathing through my mouth in order to dry the lip gloss.  I got up and went back to the mirror.  I was so dumbfounded I felt nearer to tears than smiles.  I turned to Sandra and held out my arms.  She put hers around me and hugged me.
“Oh, you poor thing!  You look as though you’re going to cry!  Come on, you look amazing!”
“Yes.  Thank you.”
She squeezed me hard for a minute.
“Oh, goodness.  You certainly look like a girl, but you don’t feel like one down there, you naughty boy!  Why so excited?”
“It’s you, idiot!” I managed to articulate.
“Well I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a while, love.  And me too.  You’re Simone now, at a girls’ party.  So behave like her!  Here, have a squirt of scent!”

Sandra opened the door and ushered me out of the bedroom.  I could hear a hubbub of female voices in the living-room.  As I got to the doorway I could see all the girls were now in their costumes, showing them off to each other excitedly.  I walked in.  As the girls noticed me they stopped talking, all except Maia and Debbie, who seemed to be having an argument.
“I told you not to wear boots!” Debbie was saying, “It’s supposed to be a dance party!”
“So?  I can dance in boots.  I always do when I go to the club.”
“Not on our lawn, though.  You’ll ruin the grass!”
“Well….”  Maia began.  But then she noticed Debbie had stopped arguing and was looking at the doorway.  She followed her gaze.
“May I introduce…Simone!”  said Sandra.
They all stared, speechless.  For once I didn’t mind.
“H-how did you do that?” stuttered Debbie.
“Simon?”  said Ophelia, “is that really you?”
“Wow! said Ruth, “You look like the real thing!  I actually thought you were a girl when you walked in!”
“I feel like one,” I responded.  “But you all look amazing!  Ophelia, you look so glamorous!  You all do!  Maia, you look like Olivia Newton-John!  Except for the boots, that is.”
“Told you so!” put in Debbie.  But I could see Maia was gratified by my observation.

The next few minutes were occupied with the girls admiring my costume and make-up.  Even Mrs Travers was impressed. 
“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Simon…sorry, I mean Simone … but you look so beautiful as a girl, quite as pretty as any of the others.  If I didn’t know you I would assume you were a girl.”
“I don’t mind at all, Mrs Travers.  In fact it feels quite natural to me to be dressed like this.”
“You wouldn’t have said that a year or two ago, said Alice.  “Do you remember what you were like?  Always getting in trouble, and into fights!”
“I’ve grown up.  I’m not anything like that any more.  It’s much better now.  I couldn’t have had you as a friend back in those days.”
Alice smiled and gave me a hug.  “No, and I would be very sorry if we weren’t friends, Sim.”
“That’s a point.  You can call me Sim whenever you’re not sure whether I’m Simon or Simone.  It’s good for either scenario!  Or both.”
“Can you be both?”
“I usually am.”
“Come on everyone, let’s go outside and play some music!” said Debbie.  And we were soon in the garden, dancing or sitting around in groups.  I was with Debbie and Alice.  Debbie said,
“Do you want to be in our club, Simone?  Me and Alice?  We collect information on everyone in the school.  We know things you wouldn’t even believe.  Do you want to join?  And then we can tell each other all our secrets as well.”
“Sure, Debbie.  I’d like that.”
And that was how it went, the whole morning.  The other girls accepting me as a friend.  No teasing, no poking fun or giggling at me amongst themselves.  It was as if I was simply one of them.  And I realised that that was exactly what I yearned for more than anything.  To be accepted as an equal, to be confided in, to have real friends.  I was too old to have this close comradeship with boys any more.  That was all over when you reached about twelve or thirteen.  But with girls it persisted, maybe into full adulthood!  And after years of feeling marginalised, distrusted and labelled a “difficult” boy, I saw a way of being part of a society with whom I already had a natural empathy.  I revelled in the experience.  Every girl in the garden came and sat with me at one time or another.  Often they talked to me seriously, I imagine in a way they would never have talked to a normal boy.  They didn’t feel the need to flirt, they didn’t seek my attention in any sexual way, but they clearly liked me and I liked them.  Perhaps for them it was just the novelty, but there was a sort of mutual respect and they clearly felt comfortable being with me.  The only exception was Maia, who talked to me but who couldn’t refrain from seasoning her conversation with a hint of sarcasm, as if she regarded me as a fraud, or an interloper, or perhaps a competitor.  I tried to explain that I hadn’t always been happy as a boy, or at least the type of boy I had been, and that my attraction to taking on the trappings of her gender was not artificial or assumed.  But I could understand her distrust, and I expected to encounter it frequently in the future if my transformation became more permanent.

By about twelve, everyone was getting hungry.  Grant had lit the barbecue, and then Mike arrived and started helping prepare lunch.  They were grilling burgers and peppers, and cutting up loads of tomatoes and cuc-umbers and lettuce on a trestle table.  Mike was grilling burger buns and bringing bottles of ketchup and mustard and sauce from the kitchen.  The food smelt lovely.  As burgers became ready, I performed my function as the principal waitress.  The girls were sitting round in groups on the law, and I carried their food to them on my little tray.  I practised putting the plates on the ground without bending over and showing my knickers.  I was very ladylike.  Only the witches were rude enough to try and see up my skirt, until I threatened, as their official waitress, to give their ice-cream desserts to the others.  After I had served everyone else, both with burgers and ice-cream, I sat down with Alice and Debbie to finish my own lunch.  Grant and Mike were lounging by the barbecue having a beer.  After a while, Mike wandered over to where we sat.
“Can I join you?”
“Sure, Mike,” said Debbie.  “Sit down.”
Mike eased himself to the turf, and sat sipping his beer, not saying much, looking around the garden.  He was at college with Grant now.  I recognised him vaguely from when he was at Queen Alexandra.  He was fair, clean shaven, and has nice, open blue eyes.  Quite attractive, in fact.  I could see why Alice, and probably a few of the others, might fancy him.
“Enjoying the party?” he asked.
“Yeah, great,” said Alice.  She was about to say something else, when who should arrive at our little gathering but Maia.
“Hi, Mike,” she smiled, striking a pose, “how are you?”  With the emphasis on the last word, and looking him straight in the eyes with an assumption of familiarity.
“Oh, hi, Maia,” he replied.  “Yeah, I’m good.  You?”
“Yeah, good.  All the better for seeing you.”  Mike looked slightly embarrassed.
Alice looked at me and Debbie with an expression which suggested imminent nausea.  Maia didn’t notice, instead seating herself between Mike and me and, folding her legs under herself with studied coquettishness, tilted her head to one side and looked at him meaningfully.  She ran one hand down the shiny black spandex of her thigh and contemplated her red nail polish.  Mike clearly felt awkward.  In an attempt, as I thought, to divert attention from this performance, he leant forward so he could see me.
“Hello.  I don’t think we’ve met.  I thought I knew most of Debbie’s friends.”
“Oh, sorry Mike.  Hi.  I’m…Simone.  I’m in Debbie’s class at school.”
“Oh, really?  You must be new then.”
“Oh…yes.  Just this year,” I lied, "so that’s why, you know, you wouldn’t have seen me before.”
“I like you costume very much.  It suits you.  The pink, you know, looks really good on you.”
Now he was ignoring Maia completely, and she was not happy.
“I’ve got to get back to my friends,” she snapped, and she jumped up and flounced off.
Mike simply ignored her sudden departure, and carried on talking to me.
“So what do you think of Queen Alexandra?  Do you like it there?”
“Oh, yes, very much.  You’re at sixth form college now with Grant, aren’t you?  What are you studying?”
At this point Alice whispered something to Debbie, Debbie said, “Excuse us.  We have to go see my mum about something.”  And they were gone.  I was left with Mike, who, after chatting me up for another five minutes, finally got to the point.
“Er, Simone, er, I was wondering if you’d like to go for a drink one evening?  Maybe a meal too.  I’m sure you’re busy, but, you know, if…”
For a moment, I wanted to say yes.  He seemed really nice.  But apart from anything else, it would have been grossly unfair to him.  So I simply said, “Mike, you know I would, I think you’re really nice, but unfortunately I have a boyfriend at the minute.”
Poor Mike was overcome with confusion.  “Oh, I’m sorry, of course you must have.  Lovely to speak to you, though.  I’d better go see how Grant’s getting on.”
“You don’t have to go.”
“No, I’d better.  Lovely to talk to you.”
“And to you.”

I sat there alone for some minutes trying to analyse my feelings.  They were complicated.  First, amusement at his error, but a certain pride in the fact I was able to compound his error even at close quarters.  Second, a minor surge of vanity, because I had been found desirable by a very attractive guy.  Third, a degree of curiosity at the outcome if I had gone on a date with him, either maintaining the pretence of being a girl or admitting the truth.  And fourth, and most disconcerting, the fact I had actually felt some physical attraction to him, and been forced to consider the possibilities of a previously unthought of type of relationship.  I was pondering all these matters when the girls returned.
“So did he ask you out?” queried Debbie at once.
“Yes.  I said I already had a boyfriend.”
“Oh, spoilsport!  You should have gone for it.”   
“That's great,” said Alice, slightly peeved, “I’ve been hoping he would ask me out for ages, but he never has.  You waltz in here and he’s all over you straight away.”
“Never mind, Alice,” said Debbie.  “It was probably just the costume.”
“You know it wasn’t anything to do with that.”
“Seriously though, Sim, you could easily go out with a bloke, you know.  I bet a lot of them wouldn’t care you were a boy, not if they liked you enough.”
“But I don’t know if I’m into that, Deb.  I don’t know anything at the moment.”
“Look!  That bitch Maia is going over to him!  She’s gonna tell him!”
And indeed she was.  She was clearly put out.  Glaring at me she went straight up to Mike and spoke to him, pointing in our direction.  He looked startled, then turned red, then had a word with Grant, said something abrupt, and left the party without looking back.”
“Oh, dear,” said Alice, “I don’t think we’ll see Mike for a bit now.”
And it rather put a damper on our mood.  But as Debbie said, “He had to find out sometime, so better now than later.” 
We looked at each other glumly.  “Well that’s today’s excitement over, anyway.” Said Alice.  But she was wrong.

dolly bo peep

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Re: Simon
« Reply #18 on: July 31, 2019, 10:24:03 AM »
Simonssister,

This is a well written story and your occasional included pictures help fuel my imagination in my mental image while I am reading it.

I'm looking forward to your next chapter.

Simonssister

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Re: Simon
« Reply #19 on: August 01, 2019, 07:26:35 AM »
Chapter X:  Barbecue  (Part 3)

Narrator’s note:  You can probably understand how delighted we were at the turn things had taken.  At last Simon had spontaneously and independently discovered his female persona, sweet and girlish.  So when Alice related to me and Sandra the incident that occurred at Debbie’s that afternoon, we were quite shocked.  It was only while reading his own account that we understood that he had not reverted to his old unruly self permanently.  I’ll quote it in full:

We spent the first part of the afternoon after lunch in different groups.  Helen, Maia and Viola were dancing to seventies and eighties stuff on the lawn.  Alice and I were entertaining the three little witches, chasing them around the garden playing ‘He’ – or, as Charlotte insisted, ‘She’, when I was the pursuer.  Hampered by their gauzy costumes and their little broomsticks they were not difficult to catch.  Debbie, Ophelia and Ruth were inside using the laptop, already planning their Halloween costumes.  At around two, Mrs Travers went out to go shopping with her friend, and Grant left also, so we had the place to ourselves.  Ophelia and Ruth went outside to play with the younger girls.  Debbie called Alice and me inside and asked us if we felt like raiding her mum’s drinks cabinet, so we ended up having a small Martini and a glass of white wine each, after which the girls started getting hysterical giggling fits and pretending to be various types of animals. It didn’t take much alcohol for them to regress a few years.  Then Debbie’s phone rang.
“It’s Mike.”
“Okay.” Said Debbie.  I hoped it wasn’t something to do with me.  But no.
“Oh, my god.  No!  Not him!”
“What is it?” asked Alice, alarmed.  Debbie put down her phone.
“You’ll never guess.  Grant ran into that slob Lewis Tyler-Hyde in town.  He let slip that I was having a party today, and now he might be coming round here.”
“He can’t!  He’s disgusting and anyway he’s not invited!”
“That name sounds familiar,” I said, is he that big burly guy who’s….”
“Yes,” said Debbie, “big and very boring.  He’s already left college and he’s going to some posh uni this year.  He’s always trying to chat up the girls.  He’s very persistent and intrusive. You can’t get rid of him.  I hate him.”
I vaguely remembered him from when I was in year two.  He tried to bully me about something, and we ended up having a minor confrontation.
“Yeah,” said Alice, “he thinks he’s the cat’s whiskers!”
“Dog’s arsehole, more like,” suggested Debbie.
“His dad’s some big fat lawyer, and Lewis is always boasting about how much he earns.  Why did Mike have to mention the party?”
“I don’t suppose he thought for one minute that he’d try to gatecrash,” said Debbie.  “Maybe he won’t actually turn up.”

But he did.  We were still inside, and we saw him emerge from the side path.  He looked around for a moment, then made a beeline for the three girls dancing at the end of the garden.
“Shit, Debbie, he’s here,” whispered Alice.
“Maia can take care of herself.  I’m not so sure about the others.  Who’s he after?”
“I think he’s cornered Ophelia.”
“Not surprised.  She looks pretty cute in that little outfit.  Yeah, look, he’s backing her up against the fence, the bastard.”
That was literally true.  Lewis had taken possession of Ophelia, leaning into her whilst holding the top rail of the fence to prevent her escape.  She was clearly intimidated.
“Ophelia’s not used to that sort of thing," said Debbie, "we’d better go rescue her.”
We headed out towards the bunch of girls down the garden.  The music was still playing but no-one was dancing.  They were standing around awkwardly, not quite knowing how to deal with this new guest.  Except he wasn’t, of course.  Only Maia looked in control, standing with her arms folded glaring at Lewis and saying something to him which he was ignoring.  Ophelia was looking about for help, while being harangued by our unwelcome visitor.  We approached.
“Lewis.  Hi.  What are you doing here?” shouted Debbie.
“Hi Debs!” he replied, without taking his eyes off Ophelia.  “Mike suggested I drop in, so here I am.”
“Bullshit.  He did nothing of the sort.  I didn’t invite you, and this is my party.  Please leave.”
“Oh, not very friendly, are we?” he replied with a smirk, finally turning round to face us.  His eyes focussed on me.  For a second I thought he had recognised me.
“Oh, hello, darling!  I don’t think I know you!”
“No you wouldn’t, Lewis.  Simone’s new round here.”
He relinquished his ownership of Ophelia and came towards me.  I didn’t move.  He brought his face as close to mine as his belly would allow.  I was still slightly apprehensive he would see through the disguise, but there was not even a hint of recognition on his ugly face. 
“Hello, Simone.  I’m Lewis.  I used to attend that pathetic institution they call a school, but I’m off to Oxford this year.”  His brow puckered.  “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.  Same as them.”
“You could be younger.  That’s a very sweet little costume you’re wearing.”
“Nice of you to patronise me.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“Ooh, a sarcastic one!  Meow!  Don’t worry, my dear, I can take everything you can dish out.  And I mean, everything!” he added with a significant leer.
“I doubt it.”
“You do?  Then maybe we should get together sometime soon, so I can prove it!”
“No thanks.  I don’t date losers.  Could you please leave?  Debbie’s asked you once, and we were already bored with you before you opened your fat mouth!”
Lewis was, for a moment, speechless. The aforementioned mouth opened and closed, but no articulate sound emerged.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maia’s face light up with delight.
Then Lewis made his one big mistake.
“Why, you little bitch!  You don’t talk to me like that!”  That wasn’t the mistake.  The mistake was, that with his right hand, he grabbed my left arm, digging his fingers into my bare flesh.  He should have grabbed the other arm.
I can’t explain what happened.  I thought the old Simon, not the one of a few weeks back, but the one of years ago, had been completely exorcised.  But he was still there, deep down, my silent protector in times of danger.  In that instant he rushed to my defence.  His best punch was always the right hook.  On the odd occasion he had had need of it, it had always served its purpose effectively.  Simone took half a step backwards, and Simon swung the punch.  I felt it connect with the side of Lewis’s face with a thud and a little pop, which I surmised was a tooth detaching itself from his lower jaw.  His hand no longer gripped my arm, and his entire self now lay face down on the lawn.  There was a collective gasp.  A moment later he rolled over, blood welling from his mouth.
“You f---ing BITCH!” he spluttered, spraying it over his shirt and the grass.  “You’re f---ing FINISHED!”
He attempted to struggle to his feet, but only managed to get as far as hands and knees.
“My Dad’s a lawyer, did you know that?”  He was white with rage.  “And I’m going to call the police, and…and.. you’re going to be arrested for assault, you little….”
“Lewis,” I interrupted, “before you go any further, let me tell you what’s going to happen.  You call the police.  The police will come here.  I’ll be in tears.  I’ll tell them you tried to put your hand up my skirt, and I managed to fight you off.  I’ve got witnesses.”  I glanced around, and the assembled company nodded enthusiastically, Maia adding a quiet “You bet!”.  “The police will then arrest you for sexual assault.  You will be put on the sex offenders register.  You will probably get community service, picking up litter.  Your place at Oxford will be withdrawn.  Your parents will not be happy.” 
He stared at me blankly.
“Do you want to use my phone?”
“F--- you!  Just wait... f--- you!”  was the most intelligent response he could come up with.  He finally struggled to his feet, and without another word limped off out of the garden, leaving trail of blood behind him.  I was Simone once again.  Simon, the old Simon, had made an unostentatious departure, leaving Simone alone to receive the plaudits of her delighted friends.
“That was amazing, Sim!” cried Debbie.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” said Ophelia.
“Where did Simone learn to punch like that?” asked Ruth, quizzically.
“Oh, she was taught by a friend, many years ago,” I replied, “a very good friend.”
Upon interrogation, the witches reassured me they had not been in the least frightened, being used to much more dangerous events in their chosen occupation.  They further assured me, though without much conviction, that they would not breathe a word of what had passed to anyone, even under torture.   
There was general rejoicing, and I’m sorry to say that Mrs Travers’ drinks cabinet was further depleted before she returned home.  She found the company in very high spirits, and with admirable discretion suggested an early supper.  We broke up after supper and went our various ways.  Before she left. Maia drew me aside.
“Simone, I’m sorry I shopped you to Mike.  To be honest, I was a bit jealous of your attractiveness.  But I love what you did to that lout Lewis, and I just want you to know I’m your friend for life – if you need me.”
“Thanks. Maia.  I’m sorry too.  I didn’t mean to get in your way.  I would very much like you as my friend.”
I was a little afraid of repercussions, but all I heard was that Lewis’s mother had been to the school asking after a girl called Simone.  Apparently it wasn’t to lodge a complaint, but to apologise to her if her son had been rude to her in some way at a recent garden party.  Unfortunately the school authorities were unable to identify the individual she was looking for, and neither could the girl whose party it was.  She went away puzzled if not reassured.

When I returned to school the following Monday, Miss Benson asked to see me after class.
“Simon, I just wanted a word about the freshers’ show.  You hadn’t forgotten you’d promised to do an act, had you?”
“No, Miss Benson.  Course not.”  I could tell she was just revelling in her little piece of blackmail.
“Oh, good.  I thought we’d better talk now as everyone is going to need to rehearse.  I hope you’ll be free to come in the odd day in the school holidays?”
“Sure.  Weekdays would be best for me.”
“I was thinking,” she smiled an evil smile, “I was thinking you could sing “My socks don’t match”.  That’s one of the numbers we’ve pencilled in.  What do you think?”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“Of course you’d need to be dressed as a girl.”  I could see she was waiting to see my reaction.
“Okay.  No problem.”  Her face fell. 
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.  I’ve just bought myself a very pretty dance costume that would be ideal.  Can I bring it to show you sometime?”
“Oh…yes, Simon, please do.”  She was obviously totally gobsmacked.  Her little plan had completely backfired.  I enjoyed a rare moment of triumph.
“Is there anything else, miss?”
“Er, no thank you, Simon.  Not right now.  I’ll, er, have a word with your aunt, then, shall I?”
“Feel free, miss.” I could see she couldn’t wait to get on the phone to find out what was going on.
“Bye, miss!”
“Bye, Simon.  Thank you.”
And I waltzed out of the classroom and headed home.


Simonssister

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Re: Simon
« Reply #20 on: August 02, 2019, 06:30:22 AM »
Chapter XI:  Preparations  (Part 1)

My little brother had a quiet week at school.  He told us that Miss Benson had asked him to come in on Saturday morning to discuss the show.  Then later that day he was going to see Sue to check how his boot salon was coming along.  She had told me it was going to be ready in a couple of weeks, certainly by the start of the school holidays.  My mum and I had already been in touch with Miss Benson – Patricia – about Simon’s costumes for the show, and she had a little surprise for him, which I’ll let him relate in his diary entry.  All I can say is, she wasn’t about to let him spoil her plans, and we hadn’t finished having our fun with him.

Saturday 9th July.  Had to see Miss Benson this morning about the freshers’ show.  I took my new costume to show her, to see if it would be acceptable. 
“It’s very pretty, Simon.  Your aunt had already described it to me, as a matter of fact.  I’m quite happy to let you wear it for your first appearance, or anything similar that takes your fancy.  I know Debbie's mum ordered several very pretty dresses for the barbecue.  We can easily alter the lyrics slightly to suit.”
“My first appearance?  What do you mean?”
“Yes, your first appearance.  We want you to open the show and close the show, because we think you’re going to be the most memorable act of all.”
“Really?  You know I’m no performer.  I can dance a bit, but my voice is pathetic.”
“Your voice is fine.  And you’ll have a microphone.  Your costumes will be the main talking point, though.  The joke is this, that you’ll sing the same song to open and to close, but when you open you’ll be a girl, though no-one will be quite sure if you are or not, and when you close, it will quickly be quite evident you’re really a boy!  We think that’ll make you a big hit, and bring the show to a great climax!”
“Oh, so what’s my second costume going to be, then?”
“Well, I’ve discussed it with your aunt, and I think we’re going to go for a nice spandex leotard with your favourite purple and pink latex pants.  I found a lovely one which matches perfectly.  Of course, you’ll be wearing odd socks with both outfits and tap shoes as well.  I'll email you images of your leotard and shoes when I get home this evening.  I’m going to send you to Miss Morel for dance and singing classes and tap is her speciality.  What do you think?”
She knew exactly what I thought from the expression on my face.
“Miss, no, please?  Please don’t make me wear that on stage.  That’s not fair!”
“Fair Simon?  Fair?  It’s not supposed to be fair.  You weren’t fair to me all those times you disrupted my class, were you?  You weren’t fair when you made all the children laugh at me with your continual silly comments?  Well, now I want you to find out what it’s like to have a whole room of people laughing at you!”
“But I’ve turned over a new leaf, now.  I’ll never be like that again.”
“Well that’s gratifying, but the show must go on, as they say.”
“I’m not doing it!”
“Oh yes you will.  Did you really think you were going to get away with one little act in your pretty little party dress, with all the women cooing over you?  No way!  I have the full cooperation of your aunt and your sister, and they assure me you’ll do what you’re told.  Look at it this way. You’re going to be a celebrity.  And remember, we always video all the shows, and sell the discs afterwards, so if you want my advice, I would make sure you put on the performance of your life.  If you’re professional, and you sing and dance with a smile on your face, you might get away with it.  If, on the other hand, everyone sees you’re totally humiliated by what you’re doing, they’ll know you’re a real sissy, and you’ll never live it down!”
I knew she was right, but I couldn’t imagine how I could carry it off.
“I ran a little competition yesterday amongst the older girls to modify the original lyrics to fit in with your new costumes.  These were the winners.  This is for your first appearance, and this is for the final one.”
She handed me two sheets of paper.  Each had verses printed on it.  I read the opener first:

“I’ve got a dimple in my chin,
I’ve got a pretty little grin,
My hair is a delightful thatch, but
It’s quite true, my socks don’t match.

I don’t know if I’m girl or boy,
When I am asked, I go all coy.
But you’ll admit, I’d be a catch,
Except, you see, my socks don’t match.

I think my costume’s very cute,
My gorgeous little waitress suit.
I serve the food with such despatch,
A shame it is, my socks don’t match!

You ought to know, it is my aim
To get another pair the same.
And then, with simple transposition,
My socks will match in apposition.”

“Not bad, is it?.  Now tell me what you think of the closer.”
I picked up the second sheet.

“I’m back again, unless I’m dreaming.
My spandex leotard is gleaming.
Admittedly it’s rather brash,
And you may think
My socks do clash!

My collar matches, and my hat,
You’ll say I look a little brat!
In purple tap shoes I am shod.
Why is it that
My socks are odd?

And when my pretty pants I wear,
They make the people stop and stare.
With frills of pink and heart-shaped patch,
It's not my fault
My socks don’t match!

I love to dance my pretty dance,
So please don’t look at me askance!
I wear my little cap askew.
But different socks?
It just won’t do!”

Now you have seen that I’m a boy,
My girly act was just a ploy!
I’m quite the teasing little fairy,
So can you wonder that
My socks are also quite contrary?

I looked at Miss Benson, horrified.  “P-please…” I stammered.
“Clever lyrics, I thought.  Both girls envisaged you doing hand gestures as well – for instance, you will need to point at your chin or whatever when you sing the word, and maybe tug at your pants when you mention them in the second song.  You know, Simon, the keyword is “cute”.  But Miss Morel will handle all that.”
“Cute?” I grimaced.
 â€œYes, cute.  I’ve booked you in for lessons every Friday evening after school, and right through the holidays.  I expect you to be very proficient by September.  Now, take the lyrics home and learn them off by heart.  Listen to the original, too.  You’ll see you have quite a bit of leeway with phrasing, but Miss Morel will make sure your enunciation is loud and clear.  In a couple of weeks we’ll have a rehearsal, but I’ll let you know about that.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Miss Benson placed a finger on her lips.
“No, Simon.  No more.  Now off you go.”
“Yes miss. Thank you, miss,” I said sadly, as I left.

I went home to eat.  I didn’t even bother to ask auntie if she was in on the plot.  She was putting the phone down as I walked in the door and I was sure it was Miss Benson.  She was all full of the joys of spring.  My surmise was proved correct, because as I was leaving to meet up with Sue, she stopped me at the front door.
“Don’t be down, Simon.  It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
“I don’t know if I can do it, aunt.  The final number, I mean.”
“Nonsense!  You’ll be a huge success, I’m sure!”
“For all the wrong reasons.”
“Not at all.  Everyone’s going to love you.  And we all think you’re very brave.”
“I think I’d just like to be a girl from now on.  It feels a lot easier.”
“Well, I think you enjoy being a girl so much because you know you’re a boy!”
“I don’t understand.”
“Never mind.  “Enjoy being a girl”, did I say?  There’s another song with possibilities!”
“Don’t, aunt, please.  I’m going to Holly End.  Back later.”

 

The more you give, the more I can give back.

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Website, forum design, software, & security on this site is copyrighted. It was made personally by Betty Pearl, of Betty Pearl's Pubs, Sissy Stories, buffalobetties, pearlcorona. Betty's Pub is a non-profit organization & support group for the transgendered, & Fetware community. We don't sell anything, & we don't data mine your personal information & habits to sell like MOST other sites do. We respect your privacy & won't sell it out for a few bucks.

Site for: Sissy Stories, ABDL Stories, Sissy Art, Crossdressing, Transgender