A Boy With Girly Hair - Part 2

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Chapter 5.

Michael sat at the kitchen table pouring milk into his cereal.

"You boys seemed to be having fun last night," his mother said as she entered the room carrying a hairbrush and comb. Walking over to her son, she patted his head. Her son's braids looked disheveled like he'd tried to rebraid them several times.

"Yeah, Buffy is so cool."

Mrs. Reed sipped her cup of coffee.

She leaned toward her son. "Did Jeff like your hair?"

Michael shrugged, "Dono. Guess so." He yawned. It had been a restless night. Mrs. Reed asked lots of questions, and her son muttered a few answers. After breakfast, the two went to the family room. Michael was very obedient, even anxiously looking forward to this session. "Ouch," he exclaimed as his mother fumbled with the covered band. Mrs. Reed began to unravel her son's braids. Starting at the ends, Michael felt the comb pull through his hair. Short strokes at first. Then longer and longer ones. In long, steady movements.

"And Jeff. How did he behave?" Mrs. Reed asked, bringing him up again.

"Okay. I think he was just curious."

Mrs. Reed smiled, knowing that Jeff was much more than just curious. "Your hair's like an angel's, all fluffy and wavy. That's what braids will do. Imagine, Michael, how William and Jeff would behave if you looked even more like a girl. I bet they'd really become flustered."

"What?" Michael turned his head to look at his mother, but her strong hands kept him in place.

Mrs. Reed repeated herself. "Imagine Will and Jeff, how they would behave if you looked more like a girl."

"More like a girl?" Michael didn't know what his mother was getting at.

"Yes, dear, if you were in a dress and makeup, they would probably think you were a real girl."

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "Nah. Mom, they'd know I was still a boy. I could never pass as a girl."

"You certainly could, dear! You'd make a darling girl."

"Mom, you are so silly."

Mrs. Reed bend low to whisper in her son's ear as if this would be their little secret. "Tell me again how Will behaved around you?"

Michael repeated the whole story again, at least for the third time, about how Jeff's brother kept saying what a cute girl he'd make. Michael could tell his mother was getting a big kick out of it, because she laughed, which made him laugh. Soon both were giggling like girls. "You look so cute," Michael said in a little girl voice, mimicking Will. "Will you be my boyfriend?" he said shaking his head and shoulders imitating a silly girl.

Mrs. Reed continued the joke saying in a boy's voice. "Can we go steady?"

"Hey, Will, I'm too young to go steady, especially with an old coot like you."

"Michael, I think you're right. You haven't gone out on a real date yet, not with a girl and certainly not a boy, so no, son you can't go steady. But you can go out on dates, but be home by twelve."

"But, Mom, I'm a boy and a boy can't date a boy, can he?"

"You're right, dear, so one of you has to be a girl... and it's you. You be the girl and Will and Jeff will be the boys."

Michael squealed in a girl's voice, continuing the fun, "What would Jeff say about me going out with his brother?"

"Oh, dear, that might be a problem. Will is definitely too old for you, at least for now... at least in a serious way... but Jeff, that's a possibility."

"Yeah, Mom, that's a cool idea!" Michael was enjoying the joke.

"Let's do it, Michael, let's make you up to be a girl and we'll see how they react. What do you think?"

Michael suddenly realized his mother was serious. He was kidding along with her, but she took him seriously. "NO WAY, MOM, NO WAY," he said as forcefully as his not-very-masculine voice could muster.

Mrs. Reed leaned over her son and held him by his shoulders. "Oh, Michael, you don't know what you're missing. Being a girl can be so much fun. You get to wear your hair in pretty styles up or down, straight or curly, long or short and get to wear pretty clothes and get to flirt and... oh, dear, you'd love pretending to be a girl! Believe me, I know... I know if I were a boy, I'd want to be a girl."

Michael didn't answer his mother. But it was too late. Thoughts were planted and try as he may, he couldn't forget her words. Mrs. Reed kept combing her son's hair. With each brushstroke, he leaned his head back.

"What do you think, dear?"

Long, soothing, brush strokes. All the way to the end. Michael's hair was thick and wavy and all fluffed up.

"Michael, what do you think?"

Michael was lost in his daydream. "What, Mom, what!"

"Of you looking more like a girl to see Will and Jeff's reaction."

Michael turned around in his chair to look into his mother's face. "Mom... mom... Do YOU want me to be a girl?" he said slowly dragging out each word.

Mrs. Reed was silent as she combed her son's Alice-in-wonderland hair all the way down until the end. All the while the long-haired boy, with closed eyes, took in the soothing sensations, leaning back in sync with the comb, thinking of what it would be like to be a girl and to have a boyfriend to have Will or Jeff or even other boys.

"I love combing your hair, dear," Mrs. Reed gushed unable to constrain herself.

Soon the young boy's back was covered in a smooth layer of silky wavy hair that cascaded into a waterfall of golden brown shades of color.

Without thinking, Michael responded, "And I like you combing it."

Mrs. Reed put down the brush. "Son, you should see yourself."

With that mother and son hurried to the upstairs bathroom. There under the bright lights, Michael examined himself. Standing sideways and leaning backward, he admired his angel-like hair. He also saw the bulge in his pants. "Wow! My hair looks really girlish," Michael said, mimicking a teenage girl.

"Michael, dear, it's what you want. Personally, I think you'd make a lovely girl, and I think you'd enjoy being a girl. I KNOW you liked your braids. Why not take the next step. To see how you'd feel about being a girl. It's not like having a sex change. You can go back to being a boy anytime you want. You only have a few months left to experience how it feels like to be a girl. Once in high school with your boy's haircut, that'll be the end of the opportunity."

Mrs. Reed's talk was very convincing but still, he had doubts. "I don't know. What about Jeff? He'll think I'm weird. I mean, I don't want to lose him as a friend. He may not like me as a girl. Tell ya what, Mom, I'll talk to Jeff, n' see what he thinks of the idea. Okay?"

Mrs. Reed smiled as she finished fluffing out her son's hair.

Michael looked out the living room window, thinking. There was Jeff riding toward him on his bike. It was sure a hot day, but he knew Jeff was a strong bike rider. Michael quickly went outside to meet him at the front door.

"Hey, guy," they called to each other.

"Hot out," they both agreed.

Both boys sat down at a patio table in the shade of the pack porch patio canopy. A cool breeze was blowing, accentuating Michael's flowing hair. Michael could almost feel Jeff's eyes staring through him.

"Jeff ah" Michael struggled for words. "We have been friends like for a long time. Right? So we can talk like a man to man. Right?"

Jeff leaned over to rest himself on the redwood patio table. "Sure we have. Since like first grade, I think, so sure we can talk." As he talked, Jeff watched intently the wispy ends of Michael's hair being swept up by a breeze.

The boys were startled to see Mrs. Reed standing by them with a pitcher of lemonade, homemade.

Michael and Jeff smacked their lips at the sharp taste.

Mrs. Reed spoke. "You know Jeff, Michael spoke about getting a haircut next week, so Jeffrey, this may be one of the last time to see your friend with long hair. Looking forward to high school, Jeffrey?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you, dear, looking forward to high school?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders, "Guess so."

"Dear," Mrs. Reed said to he son, "Turn around so Jeff can see your wavy hair."

Pretending reluctance, Michael obeyed.

"Isn't it beautiful? Like a waterfall."

Jeff swallowed hard. "Uh-huh."

Mrs. Reed leaned over the table towards Jeff. "Jeff, don't you think Michael would enjoy himself as a girl? Just to pretend, to see what it would be like?"

That was a question out of the blue. Jeff opened his mouth but nothing came out. Michael couldn't believe his mother could be so bold. "MOM, why are you asking Jeff THAT question?"

Mrs. Reed spoke forcefully. "Because, dear, I'm tired of trying to convince you to try being a girl, at least once."

Michael answered, "But, Jeff how's he to know about a boy dressing like a girl?

"Because Jeffery once knew a boy who dressed like a girl. Didn't you Jeffery?" Jeff remained silent. "Jeff knows the boy I was telling you about, whose mother braided his hair. Now, Jeff didn't that boy like being a girl?"

Jeff looked away at first, out into the backyard.

"Jeffrey!" Mrs. Reed called. "Tell the truth."

Even in the shade, Jeff was sweating. Finally, Jeff nodded a yes.

"And did he enjoy being a girl?"

"Uh-huh... he did."

"Michael, dear, now it's up to you. How about trying to be a girl? It would be great fun. Like an experiment."

Michael remained silent, thinking. Here he was, a normal, teenage boy, who happened to have long hair, whose best friend loved his long hair, and his best friend's brother was crazy about it, and his mother wanted to make him a girl, and he was about to start a new school  it was all too much to take in  "I ah, guess so, just to see how it feels."

Mrs. Reed left and the two boys just looked at each other. Both were embarrassed for the other. Thankfully, Mrs. Reed returned with a stack of chips and sandwiches, which she placed in front of the boys. After lunch, Jeff said he had to leave. Mrs. Reed spoke to him as he began to walk away. "Jeff, come over for Buffy next week, and Michael will have a new look that I'm sure you'll enjoy very much."

Michael looked up at his mother with a look of anticipation and apprehension. "What am I getting myself into," he repeated over and over to himself.

A few days later Mrs. Reed rebraided her son's hair into long tight plaits high on his head. Michael felt very girlish in such a hairdo.

"Michael, we need to go to the Philip's. Time for you to become a girl."

Michael complained all the way, asking why they had to go there. At least his first day as a girl should be in private, he thought. Over and over his mother explained that the only girl clothes available were Wilma's and that she wasn't about to buy any new girl clothes for him at this time. And of course, Mrs. Reed had to reassure her son about being seen by Will and Jeff.

After a warm greeting, Mrs. Philips led them upstairs to what was once Wilma's room.

"I picked these out," Carole said. "I hope some of them fit."

Michael gasped when he saw the bed: dresses, skirts, belts, socks, blouses, shoe bras! panties! The young boy looked up bewildered at his mother.

"Why don't you try this on first," Mrs. Reed said, handing her son a white cotton bra. Michael stood motionless, looking at his mother.

"MICHAEL, take off your shirt, will you dear... and your undershirt, too." Lifting up his arms, Mrs. Reed pulled her son's T-shirt up, through his braids and over his head, and uplifted his arms. Michael felt his hair drop down on his naked skin. It tickled, and he twitched.

"Let's try some of these bras on to find one that fits," Mrs. Philips said. "Some are a little worn, but they're all clean, stand up, arms out."

Michael held his arms out while his mother slipped a bra on him. Once, twice, she tugged at the strap. The young boy held his breath.

"Not this one," his mother announced. Then she tried another one, but it, too, wasn't right. Then another.

"Uh," Michael groaned as his mother tightened the straps in the back.

Mrs. Philips was all smiles, pleased at the apparent fit. "This one has the padding you'll need for the look of little breasts. Wilma's first bra, I think. How this brings back memories!"

Mrs. Reed also smiled her approval.

"How does it feel your first bra, son?"

Michael was speechless.

"Michael!"

"Funny, Mom."

"Funny, how, dear?"

"I don't know, just funny." Without thinking, Michael moved his right hand over the bra. The material was soft, and he crushed the cups with his fingers. Mrs. Reed spoke as if reading his mind. "Don't worry, Michael, later on, you can be bigger."

"Like what you feel?" Mrs. Philips asked.

The young boy wasn't sure how a bra was supposed to feel. It did feel better than the others, but still strange, like a big elastic band around his chest. "Guess, it's alright."

"Now the panties," Mrs. Reed announced and pointed to the side of the bed.

Michael wavered for a minute, walked around to the other side of the bed, and sat down. He dropped his jeans hesitated and slid off his shorts. The panties were so soft that he nearly dropped them. Quickly he pulled up the panties. Reaching in, he moved his organ to the lacy front. Without thinking about the mom, he ran his fingers over the silky material. Lace on the front and sides. Elastic along the leg openings and top. White. Very pretty. Soon he felt his organ stiffen. "Again!" he said to himself! Everything about being a girl made him get hard.

Mrs. Philips could see Michael's delight. "Feel nice?" she asked with a smile on her face.

"Like they weren't even there," Michael said spellbound.

Next came a skirt. No, the mothers didn't like it, nor the next one, nor the next. Soon the bed was piled high with clothes. Even Mrs. Philips was getting tired.

"Sorry to have to make you work so hard, Michael, but I know you'll be dressing for my Jeffrey, and I want you to look especially nice for him. You know how much he thinks of you."

Finally, the moms settled on a white pleated skirt that fit fine. One by one Michael tried on the rest of Wilma's clothes: blouses, skirts, bras, and dresses. The ones that fit, his mom folded up neatly. The ones that didn't Mrs. Philips threw on a pile, saying they were to go to the Salvation Army. It all happened so quickly that Michael barely saw what he was trying on. His mother just moved the clothes along like an assembly line zipping and unzipping, buttoning and unbuttoning, moving his braids from the front to the back, tugging and pulling, and repositioning it was mind-boggling. Michael modeled each outfit, imitating what he thought models did walk and turn in exaggerated ways clumsily at first but increasingly smooth. The beginning of a smile on his face betrayed the fact that he was enjoying himself as much as the mother.

Over an hour had passed. "Let's try this last one on; I always liked this one." Mrs. Philips sounded tired as she held up one more dress. Mrs. Reed agreed and began to dress her son. "Now, how does this go?" Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Philips tugged at the sleeves and wrapped a wide matching belt around the young boy and buckled it. The dress was a shade of yellow, just above the knees, with little white flowers on it, and short sleeves about three inches long a dress from the eighties or even seventies.

"Now walk with these," Mrs. Reed said, handing her son a pair of white shoes. "I bought these shoes just for this dress," Jeff's mother said, "I think you and Wilma were about the same age and I hope the same shoe size."

They fit perfectly. Michael sat on the bed to put on what his mother called foot stockings followed by the white flat shoes. They were a little tight but comfortable. On the bed, Michael waited for the mom's next order.

"Keep your knees together or you'll be showing more than you want to show," Mrs. Reed said, correcting her son. Mrs. Philips then opened some little boxes on a dresser and took out a charm bracelet a ring two rings and a gold necklace with a little cross on it. Mrs. Philips then dabbed Michael with some perfume, behind his ears, and on his wrists.

Michael breathed in a deep breath. "Wow! Do I smell! Like flowers."

"He looks wonderful!" Mrs. Philips said.

"Isn't he just as pretty as can be," Mrs. Reed added.

"Come and look at yourself," Jeff's mom said, pointing to the mirror on the door.

Michael stood back to see his whole body. 'Is that really me?' he thought. He was amazed at the person in the mirror. The dress was very cute with its little half-moon neckline and bright color. Without thinking the young boy swished back and forth, walking the way he thought girls walk, smoothing wispy hair from his face, and turning his head every way.

"Stop primping, dear. We're not finished, yet," Mrs. Reed said.

The moms, like doctors, looked Michael over one more time. Mrs. Reed did some fluffing and tugging. "Carole, maybe we should put some makeup on Michael. To give him a finished look."

Mrs. Philips agreed and walked to her dressing table. Michael sat facing his mother as she 'put on his face, as she called it. Mrs. Reed lifted her son's chin and moved a pencil to his eyebrows.

"Just a little shape here and where. After all, you're still too young to wear makeup."

Michael felt the pencil rubbing his brow.

"Steady now," his mother said, "this is mascara and it's for your eyelashes... Now open wide..."

Her son twitched as she flicked the black brush one time, two times on each lash, top, and bottom. It tickled and Michael's eyes fluttered.

"You have such pretty lashes." With a handful of brushes and pads, the loving mother worked on her son's eyes, dabbing color under each eyelid and smoothing it out. As she continued, Mrs. Reed explained to her son what she was doing.

"A little color here and a little color there. Pucker up your lips a little."

He did and his mother spread lipstick on her son's lips a very pale pink, she said. It smelled nice and tasted good, too. Mrs. Reed next took her son's hand and filed his nails.

"Michael, you got to keep better care of your fingernails, spread your fingers, sweetheart."

He and his mother coated them with pink polish. Michael held hands in the air like he was playing the piano until they dried. Nails are very important to a girl... and to a boy.

After finishing the makeup, Mrs. Reed combed out her son's hair until it was very smooth and wavy, all under the observant eyes of Mrs. Philips. "Now you look a little older," Jean said beaming at her feminized son.

Mrs. Philips led the way downstairs. "Michael, you're going to look lovely for your first date with Jeff."

'First date.' The words echoed in Michael's mind. The stiff short sleeves rubbed against his upper arms, and the panties felt so smooth that he feared they might fall off. Walking down the stairs, the skirt brushed against his skin. The young boy looked down to see his knees and legs flickering out of the skirt. He could hardly believe the sensation of air between his legs. The shoes felt a little tight, but not too bad. Michael could feel the sides rub against his skin with each step. He thought to himself, 'So this I how it feels to wear girl's clothes: tightness, coolness, smoothness, hardness, softness.' So many new thoughts filled his head; so many new sensations flooded his mind. He felt so much like a girl that he was looking forward to that 'first date' with Jeff.

"Michael, why don't you sit on the couch," Mrs. Reed said.

Michael moved to the couch. He was surprised to see Will and a little scared.

"Smooth your dress, dear," his mother called. Which Michael did expertly.

"Where's Jeff?" Michael asked.

"Said he wanted to be surprised Tuesday, so he's out."

Michael still felt timid sitting next to the older boy. He sat silently, with his hands on his lap, looking straight ahead. There on the coffee table was a picture of Will, a recent one.

"You look great," Will said.

Michael squirmed in the dress. "I look funny, don't I?"

"No way! Look great to me! Like your hair, too."

Michael became so nervous that he began to talk a lot. "And Mom put this makeup on me and did my nails. See the mascara. See?" he asked bending forward and batting his eyes. "Lipstick, too, and all this," he said showing Will his necklace and cross.

The two mothers came downstairs all animated.

"Boys, we've decided to go to the Pier. There's a band playing tonight. It's a beautiful day, and"

"Mom are you sure. I don't" Michael interrupted.

"Yes, dear, you look fine. No one will ever suspect that you're a boy."

Michael was caught completely off guard. He protested that he wasn't ready to be seen as a girl. He didn't feel good. He was too nervous. It wasn't fair. He was being tricked. All his protests were to no avail.

"Will, you go?" Mrs. Reed asked.

"Nah! I'll let you three go it alone."

Will's mother pressured him, "Come on, dear. Michael needs someone to run interference for him."

"Won't make you uncomfortable?" Will asked Michael.

The young boy shrugged his shoulders.

Mrs. Reed drove the four of them to the Pier. In the car Michael and Will were quiet while Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Philips jabbered away. Will kept glancing at Michael, and Michael smiled at him a silly smile, one that said I-hope-you're-not-thinking-what-I-think-you're-thinking. As they drove, Michael remembered that his mother and father and he had gone to the Pier on a summer day a long time ago when he was very young. He couldn't remember how old he was. He wanted to ask his mother if she remembered the trip but decided against it. At the Pier, the mothers walked with their sons. Michael stayed close to his mother, turning toward her whenever anyone passed by. Without thinking he tugged at his sleeves and smoothed his skirt. Nervously, he played with his jewelry and smoothed his fly-away hair between his fingers. Michael's heart skipped a beat whenever they passed another person. He wanted to see their expressions to see if they recognized him as a boy but was afraid to look them in the face.

It was a sunny nice day with a little breeze, a breeze that scared the young boy. With every whisper of wind, Michael dropped his hands against the sides of his dress. Though the dress clung to his body, Michael was sure it would flair out. Lots of people were out, walking their dogs, playing catch, and soaking up the sun. The moms merged and the two couples walked close together.

"Hello Jean," Mrs. Philips said.

"Oh, hello Carole."

"And who is this lovely girl?" Mrs. Philips said.

"Why this is my lovely daughter, Michelle," Mrs. Reed said continuing the game.

"Michelle, say hello to Mrs. Philips."

"Hello," Michael said in the best girl voice he could muster.

"Hello. Nice to meet you, Michelle."

Both Moms were smiling from ear to ear, while their sons watched amused nd a little embarrassed by their mothers.

"I didn't know you had a daughter, Jean."

"She just arrived."

"Arrived from where?" Mrs. Philips asked all smiles.

"From the fairy godmother." The mothers really laughed at that joke while the boys shook their heads.

"Michelle, who fixed your hair so pretty?"

"My mother," Michael answered in his best little girl voice, playing along with the charade.

"And who put such pretty makeup on you?"

"My mother," the boy-girl answered, holding his hands in front of his body, looking down and shifting his weight from leg to leg, which is the way he thought silly girls behaved. Michael knew he was playing his part well, even though he didn't feel much like playing any games.

"And this is my son, William."

"Hello."

"Hello, William."

The moms laughed, and William and his mother walked ahead of Mrs. Reed and her son.

"One thing you need to learn, Michelle, is how to walk. There's nothing more appealing to men than the sexy walk of a young girl. When you walk, sway and rotate of your hips and butt, like this... Men walk with more movement in their shoulders and knees with longer, rolling strides... like this." Michael tried to listen as closely as possible, but it wasn't easy. "Remember sway and rotate, sway and rotate. And keep the upper half of your body straight and the lower half moving. And take short steps, not baby steps but not long gawky looking steps. Watch me... now you do the same." Mrs. Reed shooed her son ahead of her, allowing him to practice her instructions. Michael did the best he could. After all, he didn't want to make any mistakes and be noticed as a boy.

"Don't slouch, Michael," his mother corrected him, and he continued practicing his walk. After about half an hour, Mrs. Reed said, "Michelle, you join Will while Carol and I talk girl-talk."

But one thing was bothering Michael. "Mom, my, voice, I hate it."

"It's fine, dear, and very normal for even a girl."

"No, Mom, it's terrible, it's a boy's voice."

"Everyone hates their voice," Mrs. Reed reassured him. "Trust me, yours is fine. It's very passable for a girl."

As Mrs. Reed dropped back, Will moved up next to Michael, and they greeted each other.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Will began the conversation. "Your first time dressed as a girl?"

"OF COURSE," Michael answered. "Of course," he repeated himself, but in a much softer voice.

Still practicing his walk, Michael asked, "Ever see that other boy in a dress? You know the one whose mother braided his hair on their front porch?"

"Yeah, I did."

"And he liked it?"

"Very much," Will answered.

"Was he embarrassed by being seen?"

"No more than you are now," Will answered.

Michelle could feel a breeze blowing like a fan against his neck. It felt good. "Did Jeff know the boy?" Michelle waited to see if Will would tell the truth.

"He did."

Of course, Michael wanted to know the name of the boy. It couldn't have been Jeff. He never grew his hair long, and Michael couldn't think of any boy he'd ever known that dressed like a girl. Then who was it? Michael wanted to ask that question but hesitated. Maybe some secrets are better-kept secrets, he knew. "Jeff, he didn't want to come with us?" Michael asked.

Will looked over his shoulder. "He wanted to come but wanted to see you like a girl in private. I think he was afraid someone might recognize you two together. After all, you two are like Siamese twins."

That made sense to Michael. "Yeah. Guess he's right. Anyone see me and Jeff, they'd know... I'm learning to walk like a girl," Michael chuckled nervously. "Body straight, lower half moving," he repeated. "Lower half moving." Over and over he repeated his mother's instructions. "How'm I doing?" he asked, looking up at Will.

"You're doing great."

"You're just saying that."

"No, really. You walk just like a girl."

Without many conversations, the two walked around a flower garden, which was full of yellow and white flowers. "I never knew I'd have to relearn how to walk and talk," Michael giggled, another girlish trait he was quickly acquiring. Being a girl was becoming funny for some reason. And becoming easier. Michael suddenly felt the warm sun on his bare arms, smelled the flowers, and heard the birds chirping.

Will reached out for Michael's shoulder, saying, "It won't be easy at first, but with practice, you'll get the hang of it, being a girl that is."

Michael was startled. "But I'm NOT a girl," he protested, "and I'm never going to be one!"

Will backtracked, "Okay, I know what you mean. What I meant was with practice you'll be able to imitate a girl. In that sense, you can be a girl for a while and enjoy being a boy, too. It can be great fun, having the best of both worlds."

As they continued their walk, Will began to sound like a teacher, not a boring teacher, but an interesting one. "You know, Michael, there's a whole new world out there, a world not many guys ever enter, the world of women. See, even now you're entering that world."

He was right, Michael knew. It WAS a new world exciting, challenging, but scary. Scary because he felt off-balance in a dress and constricted by a tight bra that expanded into his chest every time he breathed. And scary because of the thoughts that filled his head and the emotions that filled his body. Michael let Will do the talking as he tried to walk and talk like a girl.

"KIDS," Mrs. Philips called as they began on another path, "we're going to the pavilion area to sit down. Join us there in an hour, will you, and we'll eat."

"Sure, Mom," Michael called. Oops, that voice was a little deep, he thought. Better talk softer.

Will and Michael walked around a twisting path. Soon Michael forgot his mother's instructions and began walking like himself with bolder strides. The two boys walked along an asphalt path, along the waterfront, up to Sheridan Road, and back into the park. They stopped to watch some boys fishing and sat down on a bench with some old ladies who were having lunch. They watched rollerbladers whiz by, in and out of pedestrians, almost hitting some of them. Lots of people with dogs passed by. Michael and Will walked to the end of a pier and back on top of the rocks, the breakers. A wave sprayed enough water into the air that both boys got a little shower. Michael was beginning to feel comfortable with Will; and even though Will was a lot older, he had a good sense of humor and seemed to understand what was going on in his head. Anyway, being with the mothers would be too much.

"Hang on," Will said as he offered his hand. Michael grabbed Will's hand to steady himself on the rocks. Walking as a girl on them was hard. After all, he was in shoes with little soles and a dress that didn't let you see all of your legs. At least it seemed harder. Looking down, he saw his bare legs and grew scared. Without his jeans, he felt vulnerable, felt like a girl another girl-feeling. Will held out his hand. It felt good to hold William's hand. It was a strong hand. Like the hand of his father.

"Imagine me falling and having to go to the hospital with a broken leg," Michelle quipped. "Wonder what they would say to Mom when she came to see me?"

"They'd probably report her for child abuse, for making you be a girl."

Will and Michael laughed about that.

"They'd call up and say, 'Mrs. Reed, do you know your son likes to dress as a girl?'"

"Yeah, and Mom would say, 'I know he wears dresses, but I thought he had more sense than to do dumb things like walk on the breaker rocks.' She'd say, 'too bad he didn't fall on his head so he'd get some sense knocked into his head.'"

"Get some girl sense in his head," Will added. "Then I'd go to court to defend you. I'd say, 'Your honor, this young man wanted to dress like a girl all this life. You can see he's been growing his hair long for years. He has a Constitutional right to wear his hair any way he wishes and a right to wear a dress or any article of female clothing as long as it doesn't hinder the fulfillment of the functions of the State.'"

"Yeah. Yeah," Michael cheered. Then they both laughed and laughed as they played out the scenario.

Michael followed Will off the wall of rocks, still steadying himself with his extended hand.

William became more serious, "What I said was true, Michelle. Students your age do have rights as long as they're not harming anyone or disturbing the peace. That's what I'm going to do someday, try to let people know their rights."

Michael wasn't much interested in rights. He was all eyes for people who might know him.

"Michae  Michelle  growing up, you ever want to be a girl?"

"Nope."

"Ever think about being a girl?"

Michael lied. "Nope." Of course, the thought had crossed his mind in passing. Michael figured most boys had such thoughts.

Will was full of questions. "Ever want to dress like a girl?"

"Nahhhh." Another lie. At nearly 14 everything about girls fascinated Michael.

"You know, Michelle, at 14 you probably think I'm too old for you," Will said as he squeezed the young boy's hand, "and I am; but... but when you're 18, I'll be 25, and when your 20, I'll be 27, so looking at it from the future, I may not seem all that old to you."

Now Michael WAS getting uncomfortable. He wasn't sure what Will was getting at with all those numbers, but one thing he did know was that his stomach reminded him of food. Finally, they made it to the concessions stand, where they met their mothers. As they sat at the picnic table, Mrs. Reed couldn't resist correcting her son's eating habits. "Michael, you want people to notice you eating like a boy?" That made her son think twice about his manners, so he ate slowly and tried to be what his mom called, "ladylike."

As the day drew to a close, the four of them picked a spot by a tree, far enough away for some privacy. Will got a couple of blankets from the car, which he spread out on the ground. Jean and Carol sat on one and the two boys on the other. Michael was so sleepy that he closed his eyes. Being a girl, when you're really a boy, was exhausting. He tried to get comfortable against the tree and struggled to smooth out his yellow dress.

"Here," Will said, putting up his arm. Michael hesitated, then nestled himself against his friend's shoulder. Michael swore he could hear his heart beating, he was so nervous at being so close to Will. By the time the band warmed up, the grounds were covered with bodies on blankets and chairs. Some people were eating from lunch baskets. Lots of vendors circled. Will bought Michael an ice cream cone and then coke. For the mothers, too, which Michael thought was nice of him.

"I gotta go to the bathroom," Michael whispered into Will's ear. Michael was still too scared to be by himself.

"We'll be back in a minute, going to stretch our legs," Will said as he got up and held out his hand to help Michael up.

"Remember you're a girl," Mom said as they passed by.

"I've never been to the ladies' room," Michael said softly to Will.

"It's no big deal. After all, everyone's got a pee."

Michael's heart skipped a beat as he opened the door labeled LADIES. He was surprised. It was no big deal. Just go in a stall, sit down, and do your business. Of course, he had to look in the mirror like all the other females and smooth his hair and skirt. He noticed some of the women glanced at him but not with critical looks. "My dress," the young boy said to himself, "is outdated."

Will leaned against a tree nearby. "How'd make out?" he asked.

"Like I've been peeing all my life. Just stood up, lifted my dress, and did it," Michael said as calmly as he could even though he was dying of laughter inside.

"You stood up!"

"Sure."

"Geeze, let's get out of here before someone spots us."

That's when Michael busted out laughing.

"You got me that time," Will said with a silly look on his face and shaking his head from side to side. "That would be a case I wouldn't want to try."

The boys returned to their spot on the tree. Will again put his arm against the tree and Michael leaned against it, more comfortable now that they had a good laugh together. The band played on and on. Neither boy talked much, while their mothers talked incessantly. Michael tried not to squirm but it wasn't easy. He shifted his weight from side to side, but every move emphasized the fact that he was against the boy's arms. Michael was scared, but he wasn't sure of what. He again folded his hands in his lap. Again smoothed out his dress. Adjusted the short sleeves. And stretched out his legs. With his neck against Will's arm, he stared at his girl's white shoes and socks. He again played with his sleeves, pushing them up and then down. Even his necklace and cross seemed uncomfortable. Michael was dying to pull his hair off his neck if only for a second but didn't want to disturb Will's arm. Who knows, he thought, where he might put it next. More and more the hair on his neck began to bother him and he fidgeted more than he wanted. It was an answer to prayer when his mother said, "Michelle, want me to pin up your hair?"

"Can you?"

Mrs. Reed moved over to her son. With a comb in hand, she combed her son's hair off his neck and then twisted and twisted it into coils high on his head and with what seemed like a dozen pins, secured it in place.

"Now you can relax, dear."

That was much better. Of course, the young boy couldn't help but pat his new hairdo and poke in further the many pins. Michael was just getting comfortable when his mother announced, "Boys, time to leave."

At the car Will held the door for Michael and then sat next to him. A minute later his arm was on Michael's shoulder. The drive home took about half an hour via the toll way and another half an hour through winding county roads. With each curve, Will leaned against the boy-girl next to him and hugged his shoulder. Michael could feel Will's fingers against his bare arm, touching his skin and causing a shiver to race through his young body. Michael constantly shifted his body. Will finally pulled away but only to work his fingers into Michael's updo hair. One by one the pins came out. Michael swished his head until his locks rested on his shoulder. Will deftly gathered the long hair into a fist. The young boy wanted to yell STOP but couldn't speak. Then it happened. Will pulled Michael over to him with one hand and held his face with the other. The teen-aged boy felt helpless in the grasp of the older boy. Will was gentle but firm. Michael knew what was next. He closed his eyes and waited it was a soft kiss, barely felt. Not quite on the lips but close. Michael sat motionlessly. Trapped, that's how he felt. Trapped in the car, trapped in Will's arms, and trapped in girls' clothing in a white bra that was held to his chest, in a wide yellow belt that encircled his waist, and in a pretty yellow dress that clothed him.

"Boys, you okay?" Mrs. Reed asked.

Neither one responded.

Mrs. Reed glanced over her seat, smiled, and turned away.

Will pulled back Michael's head until his face was fully exposed. Michael felt lips, full wet lips pressing against his flickering against his lips quivering against his. In a reflect reaction, Michael put his hand on Will's shoulder, allowing him to have his way with him. Their kisses were noisy, but Michael was in another world. Too afraid to protest too excited to stop and too much a girl to want to. For the ride home Will had his way with the young boy, kissing him, weaving his fingers through his hair, and slipping his fingers under his skirt to caress his thighs. Michael's erection was fully grown. He squirmed, nearly in pain. Thankfully they reached their house when they did.