Message-ID: <15694eli$9809290529@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: New TG: A Losing Season 5 of 13 (Femdom(?), CD) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: tigger@alices.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <3614536d.992905@news.erols.com> A Losing Season - An Alternative Ending to Seasons of Change Part V by Tigger Copyright 1998 Archiving and reposting of this story *unchanged* is permitted provided that no fee be charged, either directly or indirectly (this includes so-called "adult checks") *and* provided that this disclaimer and attribution to the original author are maintained intact. Based on the characters and situations presented in "Seasons of Change" by Joel Lawrence, Copyright 1989. This story is archived in its entirety at: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Joel_Lawrence This story represents an alternative ending to Mr. Lawrence's story. It is essentially a parallel universe story where things start out the same, but follow a much different path than the one portrayed in the original story. A Losing Season: Chapter 17. First Confrontation As if the previous night's punishment had not been humiliating enough, Michelle awoke to find her panties soaked from a very heavy nocturnal emission. Not wanting that fact known by Maria, which was the same as telling Jane directly, she hurried into her bathroom and carefully rinsed the sodden mass free of the thick, viscous fluid. Michelle decided that, if asked, she'd claim she'd had an "accident" during the night. It had the advantage of almost being the truth - she certainly hadn't done that intentionally - but hopefully anyone hearing it would assume she'd gotten urine on them. "A fine thing when you'd rather folks think you pissed your pants than know the truth, Nash." she said with a touch of humor. What was worse for the boy/girl, was the dream she'd been having that precipitated the involuntary climax. Aunt Jane had been "correcting" him again, only this time with a real penis - a real penis that had been connected to Aunt Jane. A real penis that had been *part* of Aunt Jane. Throughout the dream, he'd felt again the strain of keeping his jaws open to admit the phallus, and had heard again the ringing taunts of his Aunt. But *this* time, he'd been excited, and the onset of Jane's orgasm had triggered his own. Michael had still been a virgin on his arrival at Jane's home over a month ago. Young men at all male boarding schools do not get much opportunity to deal with young girls except in very tightly controlled situations. And unlike his peers, Michael did not have real vacations in which he could have dealt with them in anything remotely resembling uncontrolled situations. Oh, he'd learned to masturbate, and he'd had a fairly active relationship with "Merry Hand and her five sisters" since he'd turned thirteen. He also understood the mechanics and the societal expectations of sex. But Aunt Jane with a penis? And in the dream Michelle had enjoyed it? That was scary. Did that mean Michelle *wanted* to be a girl, or at least, to assume the feminine role in the sex act? Did that mean she wanted to be with another guy? Michael, and here it definitely *was* Michael thinking, did not think he could handle that. Maybe this was one of those times he should call and talk to Eric. He decided to wait until later, when Eric would be home. This call might take a while. Michelle spent the rest of the day in isolated, melancholy thought, often frowning, looking disturbed. After a couple of attempts to involve her in conversation, Beth had finally given up and had gone off without her. Jane kept an wary eye on her ward for several hours and finally decided she needed to do something. She caught up with Michelle in the English Country Garden where the girl was sitting on a bench under the arbor, staring at a rose bush. "Do you want me to apologize?" Jane asked. Michelle started at the unexpected voice and then gazed up at her aunt in surprise. "Whatever for, Aunt Jane?" "For the way the correction went last night, of course. I realize now that I may have gone too far with that particular soap toy. So, do I owe you an apology?" She watched as Michelle seemed to consider that, before she shrugged. "Probably not. I wasn't expecting it, but I suspect that the experience will help me clean up my language all the quicker for it." "Then what is bothering you, girl?" Aunt Jane asked in some exasperation. "We agreed that we would be honest with each other throughout this trial period so that no unexpected or unintended slights would fester to affect your final decision. If that wasn't the problem, what is?" "It's not that, Aunt Jane." Michelle answered with a deep sigh. "Well, maybe part of it, but not the whole of it." Jane thought about what Maria had told her earlier, and suddenly put it all together. "Does this have anything to do with the stains that Maria found on your bed sheets this morning, Michelle?" The girl's eyes went wide with dismay and then she turned away, her face flushing with heat. "So, you came in your panties last night after we finished." Jane said with certainty. She got her answer when the girl's complexion took on an even darker shade of red and then tried to leave. Jane caught her and eased her back down. "Do I have it all, now? C'mon, now, give me the whole of it, girl. Don't let this fester." Still, Michelle could not bring herself to say anything. "Please." That was the most shocking word Jane had yet spoken to her, and it opened the floodgates. Slowly, haltingly, Michelle began to speak. She told of the dream, of the hermaphroditic Jane and of Michelle's willing compliance and Michael's orgasm. She spoke of her fears about her sexuality and how this little play might affect it in the future. Understanding now, Jane nodded, swallowing just a little bit hard herself. The child did have some . . . very interesting dreams. "All right. I am calling a trial period time out. Michael and I need to talk, Michelle. Be in my study in thirty minutes. If Michael wishes to be dressed in male clothes for this, he has my permission to do so without penalty." With that, she turned on her heel and walked back to the house. A Losing Season: Chapter 18. Interlude - Jane and Michael Unsure what Jane had in mind, Michael took her hint about male clothes, up to a point. He did not really feel like going through struggling back into all his girl clothes again, particularly that instrument from hell, the body shaper. So he merely stripped off his skirt and blouse, pulled on a Nike exercise suit over his lingerie before pulling on white socks and sneakers over his stockings. He barely remembered to remove his wig, and saw he still had cosmetics on when he went to straighten the fuzz that had started to grow back on his skull. For a moment, he considered not cleaning that off, either, but in the end, decided to wash it all off. Besides, it didn't take him all that long to do up Michelle's face from scratch in any case. Jane was waiting in the study with a pot of tea and some cakes. She was not behind her imposing desk, either. Rather, she had set the tea up at the little conversation grouping. near the fire place. He would not be seated in "the chair" looking at her across her desk of power. Jane personally poured the tea, and Michael wondered if she'd done that was because he was Michael and not Michelle. She'd always made Michelle pour, and expected her to know exactly how each of her guests took their tea, so it came as a further surprise when, without asking, Jane added his preferred amount of honey and lemon before offering him his cup. Jane knew something so inconsequential about him? He'd have sworn she never paid any attention to him, or rather Michelle, during these little tea ceremonies. His face must have conveyed that because Jane chuckled softly. "I make you remember how those you pour for take their tea, Michael. Do you think me less genteel in my decorum than what I demand of my girls? Of course I know the proper way to serve tea. I *am*, first and foremost, a *lady*." She sat back and sipped her own tea. "I have never done this before with one of my boys, Michael. Pulled them out of their feminine finery for a few minutes in order to speak with them without the barriers of the masquerade on their part, and without the persona of the harsh taskmistress on my part to inhibit the free exchange between my student and me." "So why is this different with me?" "Because this whole situation is different, Michael - very different, and I don't want to mess it up before we even get started. First of all, I want you to understand that Maria was not intentionally invading your privacy when she found the semen stains on your bedding. Checking the sheets for such things is something we have always done with our little girls. That is the reason we never made you make your own beds." "Why?" the incredulous tone in Michael's voice made her smile. "Michael, silk, satins, fine lingerie, all those pampering little feminine rituals are really very sensual experiences. They look nice, and more importantly, they feel nice. My young men are, like you, young *men*. Virile, potent, and excitable. One of the key signs that I am finally starting to reach inside the heads of my students is when the sensuality begins to overwhelm their reticence and repugnance. Young men being what they are, they need relief from such pressures, either by . . . ummm, taking things in hand, or by having wet dreams. In the past, I have always needed to know when that happens so that I could adjust what I am doing. Ergo, Maria made the beds." "And in my case, she just did it because she always does?" "Yes, because it has become a habit." Then that wicked grin returned and Michael felt a cold chill run up his spine. "In your case, I already knew Michelle had been reached because Sandy told me about you ejaculating spontaneously at the beauty shop." She became serious again. "But that is not what happened last night, is it? The dream you had? It was just as you described it?" He nodded. "And now, you are worried about your sexual orientation? That your experience in skirts might make you want boys and not girls? Because you dreamed of having me force you to suck a penis and you had an orgasm because of it?" Michael nodded, again, his eyes firmly focused on the floor. Jane stood and walked over to her window before turning to face Michael again. "Are you a virgin, Michael?" She had her answer in an instant, but held back, hoping he would speak first. "When would I ever have gotten the opportunity, Jane? Dad is gone. Mom keeps me imprisoned in all boy schools and camps. The closest I have been to more than one girl my own age in the past year was at Caro's, during the make up lesson, and then I was *one* of the girls." "Not much you could do to plight your troth in that situation, was there?" she said cheerfully. "Michael, I don't think you need to worry. You reacted to a highly charged, highly sexual situation that I forced on you last night. Now, if you'd dreamed about a guy in your mouth, well, even that wouldn't mean anything, but you dreamed about me, a woman, doing it. That I had a penis was probably just a reaction to what I had done to you. If I had stuck a soap carving of a woman's vulva into your mouth, you probably would have dreamed of me in a more realistic form, but just as dominant over you." She considered for a moment if she really wanted to take this any further, and decided it was necessary. She'd promised honesty to him, just as he had to her. "Have you ever heard of bondage and discipline? Sadomasochism?" Michael surprised her by nodding almost immediately. "At school. One of the guys had a father who sent him bootleg copies of Penthouse and Playboy. The readers letters sections were full of that stuff." "Liked those magazines, did you? Well, in their milder forms, those variations can be a very exciting way of having sex, or if you prefer, of making love. As long as the participants really care for one another, there is really nothing very wrong with acting out those games, and certainly nothing wrong with having fantasies about them. Instead, if they excite you and your partner, you should try to enjoy them as you would any other mutually pleasurable games. If it doesn't hurt anyone, why not?" She saw him mulling that over and decided to continue. "Michael, last night, I probably went too far. My original goal, as you surmised, was to make the correction so embarrassing that you'd work all the harder to avoid a recurrence. Unfortunately, my darker nature got the better of me and I said and did some things that were over the line. For that, I am sorry." "Thank you, Jane, for that. I am okay with that. The dream did bother me, and I spent a great deal of time today trying to come to grips with that dream and what it meant. What it implied about me. I am still not sure I do understand all of that, but one thing I am surer of today than ever before. Even in skirts, I still like girls. I still *want* girls." "Well, if you spend four years as Michelle, you may find that many little feminine touches are creeping into your mind set. I expect that you will continue to like and want girls, but you can expect to be in the company of men as a very attractive female on a fairly regular basis, and they will respond to you as they would any pretty girl. Don't be surprised if you start responding back. It is neither wrong nor evil, okay?" Michael considered that and then shrugged. "I am going to have to do a lot more thinking about that, Jane. At this point, I cannot even imagine being physically attracted to another man." Jane smiled, a strangely gentle smile that Michael had never seen before. "I know, but then, many of the things you will face and do are going to require and impose major changes in your thinking. Just keep your mind open and keep on thinking." That earned her a smile and nod. Jane wanted to cheer, but contented herself with a little smile of her own. "Now, anymore questions?" "Just a couple. You did say that the soapy vulva thing would have been more realistic? I mean, you . . . ummmm. . . aren't like Michelle? You, yourself, I mean." and this was Michelle asking, and in such an sweetly curious voice that Jane was momentarily speechless. Then she burst out laughing. "You . . . you . . ." words momentarily failed her. "That was the bitchiest, cattiest thing I have heard in weeks." Then she fought to regain control. "Well done! And if you *must* know," she said in measured, aristocratic tones, "The only way a penis is ever inside *my* panties is when one is attached to a male I *choose* to invite into them. Does that answer your impertinent question, Miss Nosy-britches?" "Yes, Aunt Jane." was the prim response. "Thank you *very* much. I am sure I won't have *that* bad dream again." Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 22 July - Day 6 Dear Diary The time-out thing worked well. It helped to meet with Jane as near equals. She even apologized to me for going to far last night. Oddly, after the dream last night and the talk with Jane today, it doesn't seem all that bad. Actually, thinking about it causes certain male parts of my anatomy stand up and be noticed. A very uncomfortable experience in this too-small all-in-one body shaper. Erect cocks are not meant to be bent that way. Still, I am glad Aunt Jane saw the problem and cared enough to try to fix it. Almost makes me believe she meant what she said about really wanting to help. And it gives me a whole new perspective on what she calls her "dark side". Aunt Jane is a very attractive lady, in a mature sort of way. Kind of like that woman, Joan something or other who was a star on that old late night soap opera. What was it called? Destiny? Dynasty? Can't remember. The dorm senior would turn off the TV whenever we tried to watch it back in seventh grade. What was it she said? As long as it feels good and doesn't hurt anyone, eh? Well, I suspect that Aunt Jane is going to play a role in the dreams of the part of me that remains Michael for quite a while to come. On another issue, she understood my need for some exercise, and will look into it. Her concern is that I not build up too much muscle mass, so that I can continue to look slim, elegant and feminine. We are not trying for Cory Everson here. I hope we can do something. She says she has a friend who is a dietitian and a fitness instructor who might be able to help and who knows about Aunt Jane's . . .hobby. I am tired, and I am going to go to bed. Who knows? I might dream again. Just in case, tonight I won't wear the bottoms of my sleep set. The stains from this morning don't seem to want to come out of the gusset of the ones I tried to clean. Oh well. Michelle Nash. A Losing Season: Chapter 19. Not much happened for the next few days. Michelle and Beth spent a great deal of time together with Beth helping impart what she'd learned over her time with Jane to her friend. Of course, she'd tried to do that before, but the key difference was that this time, Michelle had become a willing student. Neither Jane nor Michelle brought up their 'time out' discussions. Perhaps just as well, Michelle mused, since parts of that had been as embarrassing as anything Jane had done to her in their earlier dealings. Still, she *really* wanted to burn off this excess energy. Walking back and forth, up and down the long front hall, wearing progressively higher heeled shoes (she was up to two and half inches), while balancing Conan-Doyle on her head was NOT enough exercise. It still came as something of a surprise when, at dinner two weeks after Michelle's commitment to the trial period, Jane said that they had an appointment the next day. "She is a certified nutritionist and personal trainer, Michelle. Nora, that is, Nurse Bedford, found her for me. This lady works with gender dysphoric men who are considering sex reassignment surgery . . you know what that is?" she asked. "Is that what they do to guys who want to become women, Aunt Jane?" Michelle had asked wide eyed with anxiety. "Close enough for our purposes, Michelle. Anyway, this woman helps them with diet and exercise programs designed to help them sculpt their figures and still keep healthy. Evidently many such people do really stupid things, like starve themselves to fit into their idealized concept of womanhood. The result is that they become very ill, lose bone mass, and sometimes need medical care." "What will she do to . . .I mean . .for me, Aunt Jane?" was the somewhat quavering question. "She will look you over, Michelle, and come up with an initial program of diet and exercise for you. She will also evaluate you physically. Whatever we do in this, Michelle - and I am telling you this as Michael, too - I *insist* that we not damage your health in the process. If we can't make you over into the drop-dead gorgeous creature that you wish to present to your Mother in lieu of her son, well, that is something you need to know so that you can make an informed decision at the end of our trial period." Michelle considered that and finally nodded. "What will we tell her? About me, I mean?" "Excellent question, Michelle." Jane said approvingly. "Keep thinking like that, dear. I think we will play this by ear for now. I think she will probably believe without being told, that you are another man thinking about SRS. If she doesn't ask, we won't tell. If she does ask, I will try and lead her to the conclusion that you wish to live as femininely as possible, but won't be making any other permanent changes in the near future. Later, when we know more about her, perhaps we will bring her in on the scheme. All right?" she asked, watching her charge very closely and smiled inwardly as Michelle finally sighed, and nodded agreement. Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 31 July - Day 15 Dear Diary Well, I met Sonja Bjornson today. Only one word adequately describes the impact of this woman on the unsuspecting. Wow. This is one very big lady. Not unattractive, but BIG. . . and TALL! Everywhere. VERY big. Overwhelming, even. I am not used to looking up at ladies, even one as lovely as this Viking warrior princess. Not that much, anyway. She was wearing heels, which my now-trained eyes put at about three inches tall, but then, my own heels were that high, too. She still topped my own relatively-short-for-a-guy-5 feet 5 inches by a good five or six inches. And every part of her is just as big. Not fat, god no - she is shapely and has a very nice smile to go with long, almost white-blond hair and stunningly blue eyes. Still, I bet she is pushing two hundred pounds and is not a tenth of a percent over the minimum recommended percent body fat for women. She was very nice and very professional. The first part of the consultation involved me having to strip. Naked. In front of Brunhilda, queen of the Valkyries. I resisted - she insisted. I still resisted - she still insisted and finally, Jane ordered it. I sort of embarrassed myself during the examination because I had one of what Jane refers to as an "uncontrollable male physiological response". Sonja's only comment to that was to say to Jane, "Well, you weren't lying when you said she was not on hormones, were you?" That made us all laugh and that helped ease the tension a bit, if not my physiological response. She proceeded to measure me all over, in places I have never been measured before. She took callipers and pinched skin on my arms, belly, thighs, calves, buttocks and my back. She asked me what type of physical activity I was used to and I told her long distance running, tennis and swimming. She asked when I had gone through puberty and I told her almost six years ago. Her only response to that was that I wouldn't need to worry about a growth spurt so long after the onset of puberty. Great! Then she let me dress before she began the interview phase. She asked what types of things I ate and what I liked to eat. She approved, mostly, of the diet that Jane had me on, but was appalled by my preference for that fine French cuisine, burgers de junk a la Macdonald's. Whereupon, I was told, quite firmly, that there were sacrifices that must be made to be beautiful. Jane was listening, too, dammit. Anyway, Maria is now clucking over the new diet plan, and I have been given the go ahead for an exercise program that will not prevent me from accomplishing my goal. It involves some swimming (breast stroke preferred so as to not build up the pectorals) power walking to build up the pelvis, a very special kind of crunch that will tighten the tummy and help give me a figure, and dance - both aerobic for cardiovascular fitness and modern dance - for flexibility and grace. She also recommended that. . "Since she is still. . . excitable around other women, Ms. Thompson, you might want to invest in a gaff for her?" Jane laughed aloud at that, and it was NOT one of her nice laughs either. I tried to get her to tell me what a gaff was all the way home, but she'd just start laughing again before telling me that I'd find out soon enough. That, and the fact it has something to do with my "male physiological reaction" does NOT make me happy. Tomorrow, we go shopping for exercise clothes and bathing suits. Since I cannot wear the body shaper in a bikini, I suspect that means one-piece suits. That is fine with me. One of those women's racing suits that goes up to the throat is even more better! Michelle Nash. Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 1 August - Day 16 Dear Diary I know what a gaff is now - the jockstrap from hell, only its purpose is not to protect me from injury as to protect me from discovery. It is designed, as Jane so succinctly put it, is "To give you a nice smooth feminine profile, dear. After all, you can't very well exercise in petticoats." My immediate response to *that* was "Thank God!", which brought out Jane's damned green book. However, now that she and Maria (it took BOTH of them) have shoe-horned me into this >ahem< unique item of apparel, I'm not quite so sure if I want to thank ANYONE. Basically, it is a belt affair, that forces my dick and balls between my legs and then pulls them up, hard. My balls have retreated into the cavity from whence they came, and that HURT when it happened. Jane assures me they will come back down where they belong. Eventually. There is no way I am going to get hard wearing this thing. Gotta run. Time to go shopping. Oh Joy. Right. Michelle Nash. A Losing Season: Chapter 20. Pain is Good, Coach Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 1 August - Day 16 Dear Diary I am back from shopping, and if there is any part of this masquerade that is going to send me screaming into the night, it is too many more of these "little shopping trips" of Jane's. We went to Ms. Franson's place for the swimsuits and we bought two one piece suits, both with relatively high necklines so that I can wear the breast inserts I use with regular clothes (good thing they are plastic and therefore water proof). I am almost embarrassed to say that even the A-cup bikini tops bagged on me - so much for bikinis. Jane has that martial look in her eyes, however, so I don't think the bikini has faded into the sunset just yet. That was the easy part. Work out clothes are as much a pain in the rear as regular clothes. I cannot believe how many different outfits Jane insisted were absolutely necessary. I even asked her to come into the dressing room with me and swear to me that this was not another of her evil little games and she gave me her word that every single item was required. I now have six or seven different outfits for aerobics (they remind me of my old wrestling singlet from junior high school, only they are even tighter and much more brightly colored)as well as four or five running outfits - all with matching hair ribbons. I swear there are even different types of shoes for different types of aerobics. Finding room for all this stuff is going to be difficult. I guess some of Michael's stuff goes back into the attic. Sigh. It sure was easier for Michael, though . . . pull on a pair of shorts, the oldest t-shirt he could find, a ratty old pair of running shoes and then hit the gym. Just getting ready for my first aerobics class tomorrow is probably going to take at least three quarters of an hour. Jane said I even need to put on make up so I will look my best with all the other women. Which reminds me, we also bought some special cosmetics designed for working out. It is not supposed to run when I break into a good sweat. . oops, I mean when I begin to gently glow. What was it Linus used to say in Peanuts? Oh yeah. AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!! Michelle Nash Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 1 August - Day 16 Dear Diary Small postscript here. I just reread the previous entry and I realized that I talked about Michael in the second person throughout. Does that mean I am getting closer to thinking as Michelle and in the feminine tense? I wonder what that will mean for me in October if I decide that I can't or don't want to proceed with the plan? Will I have to work just as hard to be Michael again? I certainly HOPE not, but neither am I willing to bet the ranch that I won't. Michelle Nash A Losing Season: Chapter 21. Exercise Aftermath Jane entered her home by way of the garden door at the side of the house. She'd been meditating in her favorite spot of the garden, beneath the grape arbor, overlooking the small pond garden. It was about time for Michelle to return from her first aerobics class, and Jane wanted to be there in case anything had gone wrong. She'd really wanted to go along but both Sonja and Michelle had rejected that idea. A non- participant watching over one particular student simply drew too much attention. And, unlike Michelle, Jane had *no* interest in participating in such an exercise in masochism as a step aerobics class. The first thing she heard was laughter, then an outraged voice raised in furious, if somewhat breathless denial. She located the sound as coming from the front parlor and slipped quietly to the room door. "Dammit Beth!" came the out-of-breath voice. "It is not funny!" The answering chuckle Jane heard was much more "David" than "Beth". Actually that was a good sign. David was sensitive enough to the situation and to its dangers that he would not be reacting this way if Michelle's problem was truly serious. In that case, she thought, I'll just listen in for a bit. She pulled out her little green book, carefully documented the "Dammit", and then settled down for a little productive eavesdropping. "That woman Sonja is a sadist, I tell you. She damn near killed me in the first half hour and that was only the warmup. I thought I was in shape, but I guess all of this time spent being dainty for Jane must have done me in." Another peal of laughter. "And what did you call it? Jiggling? Tell me, Michelle, did you get to enjoy watching the other women jiggle?" A different laugh answered that. Jane was pleased to note that Michelle had still managed to laugh in her feminine voice. She'd forgive the "damn near" as a reward. "Heck, Beth, after the first fifteen minutes, it was all I could do to keep up without tripping over my own feet." "Damn, I wish I could have seen that." Beth laughed heartily. "Well, sweetie," and Jane heard that sly, catty voice that Michelle had picked up somewhere and held her breath. "Jane did buy me two gaffs, and I do have so many outfits, I am *sure* that at least one of them could fit you. I would be more than happy to take you with me tomorrow, then you could see it all, first hand. Besides, darling, it would do you good - a girl does need to keep her figure." "Bite me, Michelle." was Beth's sharp retort. "No need to be crude, darling. But in that case, I'll just eat your desert tonight, so you won't be tempted." Deciding enough was enough, Jane walked into the room. Michelle was sprawled over the fainting couch looking very much like she *had* fainted. The pastel patterned workout suit was dark with perspiration, and the ponytail she had worked her wig into was looking very frazzled. "Aunt Jane!" she yelped as she jumped into a more lady like position. "Michelle, Beth." she calmly acknowledged the pair. "And what, pray tell, was the cause of all that unseemly laughter?" Beth swallowed, and looked sheepishly at Michelle who just shrugged. "Beth was just teasing me a little about the aerobics class, Aunt Jane." "Did it go well?" "Not as well as I had hoped; not as badly as it could have gone. You did not tell me that Sonja herself taught that class. She is an animal!" "I believe I heard you use the word 'sadist' earlier." Michelle flushed bright red at being caught. "Too tough for you, Michelle?" she challenged deliberately. She fought a grin as the girl/boy's spine snapped straight, her shoulders went back and her stomach sucked in. "No, Aunt Jane, she's not. Besides, if she leads the class, she knows I am in it and I expect she will tell me when an exercise is not appropriate for me." "I am glad you realize that, Michelle. In fact, as I understand it from Sonja, there are at least four more of her special students in that class. She told me about that one because she tailors it for men who are working at maintaining feminine figures through exercise." Michelle thought about that bit of news, and recalled one particular woman at the class - a tall, slender redhead - who kept looking over at her throughout the class. At the time, Michelle had thought it was just because she was new to the class, but now. . . Well, if that redhead was a male, he was very, very good at the role. Maybe Michelle should make a point of watching her a bit more closely next time. She must might learn something useful. "Beth?" Jane's voice broke into Michelle's revery. "Please go out and weed the flower beds around the grape arbor before dinner." "All right, Jane. See you at dinner, Michelle. If you aren't too stiff to make it back down the stairs." Michelle threw a pillow at Beth's retreating back, for which she earned a scowl from Jane. "Michelle, I was listening in on your conversation with Beth before I entered the room." Michelle's face fell as she recalled a few curses that would now have to go into her diary. Jane smiled her dangerous smile that still chilled Michelle's blood. "Calm down." she ordered. "For the most part, you did quite well. David broke character, but you did not. Yes, I heard the "Dammit's", but you kept your feminine tones throughout. Now, why do you think I am bringing this up?" Michelle thought about it for a long moment and then sighed. "Because there is never going to be a time when I am not on stage?" Nodding her approval, Jane continued. "As long as you are dressed, you need to stay in role. You never know who is going to be coming around the corner, or who will be listening just outside of your field of vision. If you are going to pull this off, you must *be* Michelle whenever you are *dressed* as Michelle. A slip up like Beth just made, in the wrong place or at the wrong time, and it is all over. When you were here for my regular program, I very carefully selected where you were seen and who was in a position to see you if your cover was broken." Jane paused to let that sink in. "But I can no longer do that for you, Michelle, because you are going to have to live a normal life, at least normal for a young woman, and go places that are not preselected for your safety in the event you slip up. You will have to do all that, my dear, and the only way you can hope to pull it off without being discovered is not to let Michael slip past Michelle's guard. You cannot let down, even here at home because if you get sloppy here, with Beth for instance, you might forget and get sloppy at the mall in response to the same type of stimuli from Beth. Do you understand?" She watched as the girl mentally chewed on that before nodding slowly. "Yes, Aunt Jane, I do understand. It is going to be very difficult, though. I am just beginning to understand how difficult." "Still game, kid?" Jane asked cockily. "Yes, Aunt Jane. I am still game." Michelle answered demurely. "And thank you for this lesson. I had not considered things quite that way." Slowly, painfully the girl rose to her feet to leave. Her obvious discomfort made Jane wince in empathy for her. "Please excuse me, Aunt Jane. I am going to go soak in a hot tub so that I don't get any stiffer. No way am I going to let Beth have the last laugh on this." Jane managed to hold her own laughter until she heard Michelle's bedroom door close behind her. Excerpt: Michelle's Diary 5 August - Day 20 Dear Diary Jane has asked me if I would consider working with her circle of confederates on this project. As Jane pointed out, Caro, Sandy and Mrs. Franson are really the experts in their part of the game, and Jane has always relied on them for the complex stuff. Maria is pretty good at the day to day makeup and dress up, but when Jane wants something special, like when she wants a boy to pass in close quarters, she gets out the big guns. She went so far as to hint, and not very darned subtly, that since she is not going to be taking on any of her "special students" while she is supervising me, the least I could do was let her "dear friends in on the fun." Yeah, Right! Like being nice to that pack of . . . .I don't even want to think of a word for them because it might slip out. I am just a too close to the magic 100 curses again. Anyway, to state it elegantly and with proper feminine restraint, I do not believe that the pleasure of those upstanding members of Jane's acquaintance stands very highly on my list of personal priorities. On the other hand, I guess I will probably need the big guns to help pull this off. Which means I am eventually going to agree to this proposal of Jane's, but I can't say I much like the idea. I wonder how they will really feel about working with me, now that I think about it. Since the start of the trial period, my relations with them all have been a bit strained. Mrs. Franson was very reserved with me the two times I have been in her store. As for Caro and Sandy, I just don't know. Sandy was just so evil to me before and she was still pretty rough the other day when I went in for my first voluntary treatment. Caro was better, but she was very wary around me, like she was afraid something was going to go badly wrong any second. That is probably it. They are afraid because of the suicide attempt. They don't want to be around if I lose it again. Heck, they might even be feeling somewhat responsible and guilty about it. Plus, they have to be worrying for themselves about the potential repercussions for them and their shops if word got out about: A. what they were doing and B. that one of the boys attempted to kill himself after one of their sessions. Its odd that I am writing about that . . .event now. Odder still, it *feels* like I am writing about someone else or writing ancient history. I can't even imagine doing what I most assuredly tried to do. I can't seem to remember what I was feeling or what I was thinking then, either. All I can see in my minds eye is like something out of a dream - out of focus and indistinct. I am seeing a therapist in Providence now, twice a week. Eric referred me to her. She, like Sonja, works with a lot of gender dysphoric people. I don't think that is what I am. I am not confused about who and what I am. I am a male who is working to perfect a disguise as a female to achieve a distinct and specific purpose. Still, Dr. Spinelli understands the conflicts I feel, and she seems to be able to get to the heart of things that bother me a whole lot quicker than I can on my own. She hasn't been at all judgmental about my reasons for doing this, either. She sure does ask a lot of questions, though. Problem is, I don't much care for a lot of the answers. Well, if what I do with my Mother is wrong and a mistake, I am just going to have to learn to live with it. Well, I guess I will go tell Jane to bring on the Committee on the Feminine Arts. Of course, if Sandy gets too nasty, we can always get into a cat fight now that I am not quite so terrified of Jane. Heck, if we get into a hair pulling contest, I will win that one hands down. Mine's still too short to pull and the wig will just come off in her hands. Michelle Nash. End Part 5 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----