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by Cindi Johnson
Dallas, June 2004
I was driving across Texas on a late autumn afternoon. The
dreary, the sky gray, and I had been driving all day when, about six p.m.,
I pulled my car into a small motel just north of Dallas. After settling
into my room, I called the lobby to request an extra blanket. Shortly
thereafter a young lady brought a blanket to my room.
As I had been alone all day driving across this seemingly endless
asked the young lady to join me for dinner. I needed company. She agreed
and, after checking with her manager, she joined me. We went to a Luby's
cafeteria located about two miles away.
As we ate our meals, I mentioned that I was headed home to Iowa,
and that I
had grown up near the Iowa border. This fact seemed to affect her
strangely. I asked her how an articulate, seemingly educated woman such as
herself had come to work as a motel maid. Expecting a typically vague
reply to my routine question, I was very surprised as tears formed in the
young lady's eyes, and she began to tell the shocking tale of her own
journey across Texas.
Intrigued, I stayed three more days at that motel. I interviewed
lady and many others whose lives had intersected with hers. Based upon
these interviews, I put her most unusual story down on paper.
At the end of my stay, as I loaded luggage into my car and
resume my own journey and my own life, I asked the young lady for a final
"Just tell everyone," she said, "never attempt to
cross Texas. Texas is
like a true love: you may love her, then you may hate her, but you'll never
What follows is her story.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I had just passed Dallas when my troubles began. A few miles
north of the
city, in a town which was fast becoming a big city suburb, my car
overheated. Perhaps it was caused by the transmission, which had been
slipping badly since I crossed the U.S- Mexico border. At any rate, I had
to pull over. Luckily, I spotted a small motel a half mile up the
highway. With steam trailing ominously behind, I pulled into the parking
lot of the Paradise View motel. The engine shook violently as I turned the
Save for a half dozen cars, the motel's parking lot was empty on
March afternoon. The motel appeared to have formerly been a chain, like a
Best Western or La Quinta, but no more. I guessed that it had about 30 or
40 units, a restaurant, and a small pool. From the motel, which was seated
atop a gentle rise, I could view rolling prairies to the north, while far
to the south I could just make out the Dallas skyline.
Warm, tired, hungry and very thirsty, I entered into the
also served as a bar for the motel's patrons.
I sat down at the bar and ordered a hamburger and French fries
and a beer.
The waitress was a young Mexican-American girl with long wavy black hair
and expressive brown eyes. Her name tag identified her as "Sara". She wore
a yellow blouse and navy blue skirt. Tall for a hispanic girl, at about
5'6", thin, with her full lips painted bright red, Sara was simply,
undeniably beautiful. I was stunned.
As I downed a couple of beers, we conversed about the weather,
and other typical small talk subjects. But after I had finished a couple
more beers, I began to spill out my life story. I told her I was returning
from spending the winter on the Yucatan coast; how I had left Des Moines
for Mexico on my 20th birthday, seeking an escape from Midwestern boredom;
how I was now returning to Iowa, hoping that I could get my old job back at
the bank there in my hometown.
More beers continued to loosen my tongue. I told Sara how I was
nearly broke, and now had serious car troubles to boot. How there seemed to
be no one in this world who cared about me. How no one even knew where I
was on this particular day, nor cared.
"So", she asked in between waiting on the customers who
came and left while
I rambled on, "why go back to Des Moines?"
Why indeed, I wondered as Sara set a stiff rum and coke be before
the house," she said.
Feeling dizzy, I moved to a booth. I recall Sara gently stroking
my face as
I enjoyed another drink, again on the house. That's all I can remember,
SMACK! Stunned, I opened my eyes. A young, tall blond woman stood
me, pointing a handgun directly at my head. Frantically I tried to block
her hand as she swung at my face again. SMACK! My hands were somehow
secured behind my back.
"What is it? What's going on," I yelled at her,
frightened. "You can have
all my money! Go ahead and take my wallet!"
"I'm not robbing you, IDIOT", she replied in a stern
voice, before slapping
me yet again. "I'm arresting you!"
"What? Why? I don't understand?"
"RAPE, you pervert! You raped Sara," she yelled,
glancing towards her left.
Looking there, I saw Sara huddled in a dim corner of the restaurant. Her
yellow blouse was torn, its buttons ripped off, and her hair was
messed. There were blood stains on her blouse and on her right cheek. Half
undressed, wearing no skirt or panties, she appeared to have been
crying. Sara turned away from me, as if she did not want me to see her.
"No..no way.I couldn't have.," I muttered as I again
turned towards the
blond woman and the gun pointed at me. "I wouldn't do that," I said,
looking down towards the floor.
"You could, and you did, and you'll pay big time for it,
idiot. My uncle is
the sheriff here. You know, idiot, that this is Texas, not some liberal
little yankee state. You'll rot in a filthy Texas prison. I guarantee
it. You'll be an old man before you ever again walk a street as a free
"No., please." I turned to Sara. "Please, I'm
sorry. I must have been
drunk. I can't remember anything. I'm sorry, very sorry." Sara turned
away. The room was dark. I couldn't see for sure, but she appeared to be
grimacing. Or grinning.
The blond continued, "Don't even try moving. I've already
police. You're history, asshole." Then she slapped my face again. I
couldn't help it.the alcohol, the stress, the violence. I vomited all over
myself. I was so frightened I actually began to shiver uncontrollably, and
then I began to cry.
"Please," I begged. "I'll do anything if you'll
leave the police out of
this. Anything at all. You can have all of my money and my car."
"IDIOT! Your car is a piece of junk, and I already have the
"But please, please.," I begged, sniveling.
At this point Sara spoke up. "Amanda," she said,
"maybe we should hold off
on this. He was really drunk and all. Maybe he didn't really mean to hurt
"What! That pervert raped you!"
"I know. But., wait., I don't know what to do. Maybe he
could make it up
to me somehow, but without going to prison. I just know he'd be dead
within a year or two behind those bars, and then I'd kind of feel bad, you
know., sort of responsible for his death. Do you know what I mean, Amanda?"
Just then we saw a police car pull into the parking lot. Luckily,
parking area was well lit while the restaurant was quite dark, which made
it impossible for the officer to see into the restaurant window.
"Please! Listen to her. Please!" I beseeched the young
blond woman to
spare me from the hell of Texas incarceration.
"OK.OK.", she said hesitantly, "so., you will work
for me.., do exactly
what I ask., with no complaints? None at all. And you'll do anything that
Sara asks.., no questions asked?"
"Yes, I will! I promise! Please!!!"
"OK. Sara, you win, for now. Take that creep out the back
door and lock
him in room #17. Then come right back. We'll report the rape to the
officer, but hold off for now on turning the idiot over to the police.
With that, Sara, wearing only her torn blouse over her bra, led
me to a
vacant motel room, pushed me into it, then locked the door and left. Alone
in the dark room, still shaking uncontrollably, I collapsed onto the bed,
my hands still bound. I could feel the sticky vomit and, maybe, semen,
which covered my legs and groin. Exhausted and poisoned by alcohol, I
again slipped from consciousness.
Amanda, seated on the couch, wearing a baby blue cotton robe and
gently brushed Sara's long black hair, while Sara sat demurely on a blanket
spread over the floor. Sara sipped herbal tea, as a dreamy Patsy Cline song
played on the stereo.
"Amanda, you should have been an actress," said Sara.
"My gosh, he's
absolutely convinced that he raped me. Heck, you nearly had me
convinced. Though I could barely keep from laughing."
"Serves him right, Sara. He shouldn't drink so much. It's
his fault, not
ours. When I saw him passed out in the restaurant, well..., Sara..., I
don't much like men anyhow, particularly drunken men."
"By the way, Mandy, what did John want?"
"Oh, he was just bored. He just wanted to talk. You know,
Sara, he still
wants to get into your pants. I told him you were in bed. But what timing!
That idiot really believed John had come to arrest him for rape."
"All men want to get into my pants, Mandy. That's the curse
like us must carry. But believe me, no man will get into mine, unless I
"Oh by the way, did you soak your blouse? If you don't, that
blood we used will set into the fabric."
"True", Sara replied, "and I'll also need to sew on new buttons."
"No, Sara, the idiot can sew on the buttons. He's our slave
"Mandy, I hope you know what you're doing with that guy.
getting into mischief. What if he's insane, or dangerous?"
"Worry, worry, worry," chided Amanda. "It's all
you do, Sara. I'm a big
girl now; I can take care of any man. Besides, he's no bigger than I am. I
could probably whip him, even without a gun."
"True," Sara purred while Amanda gently massaged her
neck, "but I don't
really like the idea of having a guy around here."
"I understand that, and I think I can take care of that
problem too. You
know, Sara, I just enjoy manipulating males. I really do. And when you
showed me that guy, passed out in our restaurant, I saw an opportunity too
good to let pass. Besides, we do need another worker here, now that Pam
quit. Just play along with me on this, Sara. I promise you, it'll be fun."
Amanda leaned forward and kissed Sara's neck.
Bright sunshine fell upon my eyes, causing pain. I looked around.
I was in
a sparsely furnished motel room. I struggled to get up. I tried to open the
door, but it was locked from outside the room. Just as well, I reasoned, as
the only clothing in the room was the t-shirt I wore. After drinking a
glass of water I laid down on the bed. Strange visions flitted through my
mind; a beautiful hispanic girl, a gun, threats, a sunny Mexican beach. I
drifted back to sleep.
Startled, I jumped off the bed. A young blond girl has just
face, and was now pointing a gun at me. After a few moments it begins to
come back: the car trouble, the alcohol, the.. rape.
"What's your name, idiot," she demanded.
"Well, Michael, I knew that. Sara told me your whole life
story, which of
course you relayed to her during your drunken stupor, before you raped
her. Believe me, Michael, were it not for Sara's intervention, you'd be
behind bars right now.
"So here's the situation, idiot. We have informed the police
of the rape,
but have not yet specifically identified you as the perpetrator. Sara was
required to submit to a doctor's examination, so your semen's DNA is now a
police record. Your car was impounded. If you are identified as having
raped Sara, you're looking at twenty years in prison. Twenty years of hell
on earth, Michael. Welcome to Texas, kid."
Amanda paused, staring at me with the pistol aimed directly at my
felt as if I would vomit again.
"Anyway, for Sara's sake, I'm willing to give you a chance.
You work here
for three to six months, then maybe we'll let you be on your way and all of
this will be but a bad memory of yours. I'm shorthanded here. And Sara just
feels bad about what happened. Since she gave you the drinks, she feels
partly responsible for what you did. I told her that was pure BS, and any
cop would tell her the same thing. But Sara's just too damn nice. Besides,
she thinks that if you've knocked her up, you'll need to support the kid
for the next twenty years, which is hard to do if you're behind bars."
"Tell Sara I'm sorry. Tell her I appreciate."
"Shut Up, Michael. Don't interrupt me, ever!"
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"Michael, this is the South. Say 'Yes, MA'AM'."
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"That's better. Now remember, I know who you are. I have
license. If you leave here, or try anything foolish, the Texas Rangers will
be all over you."
"Now, clean yourself up. You're clothes were impounded with
Here's a blouse and slacks which our maid, Pam, left behind when she
quit. They should fit you. And you can wear my slippers. And clean up this
room. When you finish, come to the restaurant." At that, she backed slowly
out of the room, always holding the gun pointed at me.
I couldn't help it. I ran to the toilet and threw up. Now that
had worn off, I saw how bleak my predicament was. If my semen was taken
from Sara's vagina, and was DNA matched to me, then no jury in the world
would set me free. Plus there were witnesses, last night's restaurant
patrons, all who would identify me as being out-of-control drunk.
As I showered, my thoughts returned to Sara. So beautiful! I felt
gratitude to her for sparing me from the law. And even though I couldn't
remember screwing her, I nonetheless felt a tad bit of manly pride. After
all, here was I, Mr. Michael Nobody, and I had just had sex with possibly
the prettiest girl in Texas.
"Jesus," I muttered as I pulled on the slacks. A bit
baggy in the hips,
and a zipper on the side where it would do a man no good, but otherwise a
fairly decent fit.
Unlike the lavender slacks, the blouse was white and not readily
distinguishable from a guy's shirt, except for a few small, embroidered
flowers on the collar. I fumbled with the buttons, which were on the wrong
side, then put on Amanda's sandals. Feeling odd, I walked to the
mirror. Luckily, the clothes fit OK, as I was 5'8" and thin by nature. The
long hair I had grown over the winter, which until now had given me the
appearance of a hippie, combined with the clothes to give me an effeminate
appearance. Feeling embarrassed, I left the room and walked to the
restaurant. It was getting dark. I must have slept all day.
Sara stared at me as I entered the restaurant. We both blushed;
me from my
situation and appearance, and she, apparently, from seeing a guy wearing a
"Sara," I said hesitantly as I approached the counter,
"I'm really sorry
for what I did. I don't know what could have gotten into me. I blacked
out., I don't remember anything."
Sara said nothing. She looked embarrassed by the situation.
"Pervert! Leave Sara alone, will you? Just stand still and shut up!"
"What about it, Sara, do you think Michael can do Pam's job
until we hire a
new girl," asked Amanda.
"I.., I suppose so.."
"OK, Michael, your job will be to clean rooms, make beds,
Nothing too complicated."
"Yes, ma'am, I'll do my best. I promise."
"You'll start tomorrow morning. Sara will give you dinner,
then you will
return to your room. Your workday starts at six a.m."
"Yes ma'am, thank you. But, maybe I could go out tonight to
clothes. Just some jeans and a workshirt?"
"What do you think, Sara, can Michael wear Pam's clothes
while he works
here? They seem to fit him," said Amanda.
"I don't know, Mandy. He looks a bit odd dressed like that.
He might make
our guests uncomfortable. People around here don't much like queer guys."
"True. That's true.., but, let me think..". Amanda was
quiet for some
moments, pondering the situation.
"I know! Michael can dress 100% as a female. That way,
customers won't be
offended, as they will just assume he's a girl."
"Wha..", I started to protest.
"Shut up, idiot! I won't tell you that again!" said Amanda.
After a moment of silence, Sara responded. "But Mandy, he's
a guy. He
should wear guy's clothes, not girl's clothes."
"No, Sara. I've decided. While he works here, Michael will
be 100% maid.
That means he'll wear lingerie, makeup, everything. Maybe once he knows how
it feels to be a girl, he'll empathize with us, instead of raping us."
"But Mandy.," Sara tried to interrupt.
"No. That's it, Sara. I've decided. Our guests expect our
hotel maids to
be female. Really, Sara, have you ever seen a male motel maid anywhere in
Amanda continued to describe to Sara the benefits of having me
work as a
woman. But this discussion was strictly between Amanda and Sara. Clearly,
my thoughts on this matter were not a factor.
"Sara, you will take the pervert to Mervyns and buy him the
basics. He had
$500 in his wallet. Use it. I'll cover the restaurant for you and will also
find Pam's other uniforms for Michael to wear.
"Now remember, Sara, if tomorrow morning he doesn't look
like a female,
then this deal is off. I'll call the authorities and you'll file charges
against him. Understand?"
"Oh, and one more thing. Michael, you'll be wearing Pam's
wearing her name tags. So, dear pervert, from this point on your name is
Pamela. Got it?
Now, say your name."
"Pamela," I said hesitantly.
"Good girl," Amanda said condescendingly, as if I were
a dog that had just
rolled over, "now, return to your room this minute and shave off all your
body hair. All of it. Everywhere. There's a shaving kit in the room. And
don't even think of asking me any questions."
Angry but silent, I left the restaurant and returned to my room.
"Wow, Mandy, you're really gonna make him dress like a girl," asked Sara.
"Sure. Why not? Let's humiliate the idiot."
"But he really didn't do anything to deserve all this."
"So? I need a maid around here, and now I have one. Sara,
you love me,
"Then play along with this. As you know, unlike you, I don't
guys. I'll enjoy this. But we've gotta play good cop- bad cop now, and
you're the good cop, Sara. Just play along. Believe me, he's harmless."
Amanda leaned towards Sara and kissed her.
"Oh, OK Mandy. I'll do my best," Sara replied with an air of resignation.
I had barely finished shaving and showering when I heard a knock
"C'mon, Pamela, let's get going. I don't want to be up all
night with you."
It was Sara. Hurriedly I donned the lavender slacks and white blouse, then
opened the door.
"Hurry up, Pamela," said Sara, as she grabbed Amanda's
sandals and grasped
my hand, then pulled me out into the night. "I don't know why I got stuck
with this job, but I did. Now please don't embarrass me."
I slipped on the sandals as Sara drove south, towards the city.
"Sara, I'm really sorry for what I did last night," I
said, trying again to
"Oh, just drop it. It's too late. You did what you did, now
you have to
live with the consequences. Just don't cross Mandy, cause she will have you
arrested, you know."
"OK, but really, Sara, you surely don't expect me to., you know."
"You know., wear girl clothes."
"Haven't you noticed? You already are wearing girl's clothes."
"But please, Sara!"
"No, Pamela, no. My job depends upon Amanda's happiness. So,
we will both
do just what Mandy wants."
"Sara, my name is Michael."
"No. Your name is Pamela, because Amanda says it is. Hey,
it's not my fault
that you raped me. You shouldn't drink so much. But believe me, Pam, you do
not want to end up in the Dallas County Jail, especially now that you have
no body hair. The men there will., you know."
Sara pulled her car into the parking lot of a Mervyn's clothing store.
"Let's get this done, Pamela, and again, please don't try to
OK? I don't want these people to think I like, well., a pansy."
I followed Sara into the store. Don't embarrass her? Gosh, what about me?
Sara led me directly to the lingerie department. A cute high
approached; she had dark hair, a shapely build, and deep blue eyes. Her
name tag read "Jennifer". Jennifer stared at me as if I were a lunatic.
"May I help you," she asked Sara as she stared at the
embroidery on my
"Yes, please," Sara said, then turned towards me,
"He needs to buy some new
"Ah., women's clothes?"
"Yes. Women's clothes."
"These clothes are for him?" Jennifer said.
"Yes," Sara replied, rolling her eyes so as to convey
to the clerk how
ridiculous she thinks I am. "Yes, he wants to wear girl's clothes. Maybe
you can help him pick some out?"
"He really wants to buy lingerie?" Jennifer continued
to address her
questions to Sara, as if she were a mother shopping for her young daughter.
"Well, OK, I suppose., you know.," Jennifer grinned as
she looked me over.
"May I ask your name, sir?"
"Pamela," I replied.
"Yes., Pamela." Again I noticed Sara rolling her eyes.
Clearly she was not
enjoying this shopping trip.
"Here," Sara said to Jennifer, "I have a list of things he needs."
Jennifer took the list and read from it aloud. "Let's see.,
pairs of lacy panties., two panty girdles.. Several feminine bras., several
sexy skirts with matching blouses., maybe one or two pretty dresses. high
heels. lots of pantyhose. a purse. makeup, including bright red lipstick
and nail polish. perfume, slips. a sexy nightgown. and anything else a
young lady would love to wear. Wow, Pamela, that's quite a list!"
"Yes, it is," I said, flustered. Apparently Amanda had
drawn up a full
shopping list for me.
"I noticed it says you want to purchase "sexy"
clothes, sir" said Jennifer.
"Do you mean sexy in a guy way, like Bruce Willis, or in a girl way, like,
say, Brittney Spears?"
"Well," I stammered, "in a Brittney Spears way."
"So you want to dress like Brittney Spears, the teen pop diva?"
"Jesus!" she said, "I've never done this before.
This isn't a sexual thing,
like, you know, you're not gonna get excited and, you know, do what guys
do, you know.?"
Seeing that the shopping trip was stalled, Sara spoke up.
"No, it's not
like that. Believe me. Pamela will behave or else. He just doesn't feel he
fits in as a guy so he wants to be a girl. I know it's stupid. But heck, if
he prefers to wear short skirts, that's his problem."
But wearing girls clothes won't make you a girl, Pamela. There's
more to it
than that, you know," Jennifer said, still unsure of my motivations.
"Please, Miss, just let her buy some clothes, OK?" Sara
"Pamela's not a real guy. Not a guy like you and I think of guys. Pamela is
a girl. Think of her as just another girl."
"Oh., OK., I suppose you're right." Jennifer then
turned toward me. "Well,
come on, girl, let's find some pretty lingerie for you to enjoy."
Apparently it eased her mind, and her confusion, to refer to me as a girl,
and as "her" rather than "him".
Jennifer beckoned me to follow her. We went to a large area
filled with an
enormous assortment of women's panties.
"So, Pamela, "you're a big fan of Brittney Spears?"
"Yes," I lied, "I have all her videos and CD's."
"Well, you're not alone. A whole lot of young girls like to
imitate her in
dress and style and makeup. Now that I understand who Pamela admires,"
Jennifer continued, turning to address Sara, "it'll be easy to select
several outfits for her. She may need to shop in the Juniors section,
"Yes, I suppose so," Sara replied, again rolling her
eyes. "Pamela acts
like a teenage girl, so she should dress like a teenage girl." Jennifer
was busily holding up panties for me to inspect, then selecting for me only
those that were flowery and feminine.
"You know, Pamela, you seem just a tad too old to be so into
Spears scene. How old are you," Jennifer asked.
"Well, I guess that's Brittney's age, too. But you know, I'm
I grew out of that stage several years ago. I mean, it's none of my
business, but none of the girls at my high school are into her music and
"So? Maybe Pamela prefers to act like a middle school
interjected, apparently annoyed by Jennifer's meddling. "That's her
problem, isn't it?"
"OK, OK!," Jennifer said, "What about bra size,
Pamela? What size are your
breasts?" She giggled at her joke.
"I don't know." I looked to Sara for help.
"Jesus, do I need to hold your hand all the time, Pamela?,
Sara said with
obvious exasperation. "I would really like to get this over with!"
"But Sara, I don't know what size bra to buy."
"OK, fairy, OK. Jennifer, please select her size 36B,
underwire, and pick
out the most feminine bras you have. And anything you can give her for
padding, until Pamela's able to grow, or buy, her own tities. Then, Pamela,
you and I will go into the dressing room to get you fitted. I mean, really!
You're not my daughter. I shouldn't have to dress you."
"So are you two, like, a couple? Or girlfriends?,"
Jennifer asked as she
began to select my brassieres.
"No Way!," Sara exclaimed, "I'm not into dating sissies."
"I'm, well., I'm her cousin," I blurted out, hoping to
increasingly negative tone.
"Yes," Sara said, "Pamela's my sweet adorable
gringo cousin. Like, our
whole familia is just so proud of little Pammy," Sara mocked.
"Well, you sure should be. It probably takes real courage
for Pamela to be
herself," said Jennifer.
"Yes, it takes real courage for my cousin to buy himself
panties and bras.
Yea. Real manly courage."
Strange, I thought, how Jennifer was now supportive of me while
becoming ever more rude. Maybe, I thought, Sara was angry about the
rape. Or maybe she just wanted to go home instead of spending her evening
with me at her employer's behest. Perhaps, I reasoned, Sara was not
actually angry with me at all, but was pissed at Amanda and simply was
taking it out on me. I hoped this was the case, as I was truly smitten with
the young lady.
Between them, Jennifer and Sara had soon gathered a pile of
intimates, including bras, panties, slips, half-slips, pantyhose of various
hues, and even a couple of frilly nighties. Sara then sent Jennifer to
select some outfits for me, "nice, teenage, colorful and feminine," she
said, "and absolutely no slacks."
"Amanda says she wears the pants at the Paradise View,"
Sara whispered to
me as she pulled me towards the ladies dressing room.
"Now strip," Sara ordered, "and let's hurry!"
"In front of you," I protested.
"Yes, dear cousin. After all, I've seen what's in your pants, remember?"
Soon, with Sara's help, I was wearing pantyhose, lacy rose
with matching brassier, and a sheer slip. I felt totally foolish as Sara
stuffed the bra's cups with several old pairs of pantyhose which Jennifer
had provided for that purpose. I couldn't help but gaze at my reflection in
the full length mirror as, under Sara's guidance, my body morphed from male
to that of a slender, half-dressed girl.
"It's a good thing, my dear cousin, that God made you fairly
think how ridiculous you'd look if you were stocky and muscular."
"I don't consider myself to be petite, Sara," I protested meekly.
"C'mon Pamela, you certainly are petite! Jesus, I didn't
mean that as a put
down. Actually, you look rather sexy in lingerie."
"Sexy? You mean like a sexy guy," I asked hopefully.
"Don't be silly. Don't be a silly sissy," Sara added, laughing.
"Pamela," Jennifer called from outside the dressing
room, "come out and let
me see how you look." Before I could resist, Sara grabbed the front of my
slip and pulled me out of the security and privacy of the dressing room.
"Wow," Jennifer exclaimed. I stood still, frozen with
anxiety and, I admit,
shame. Jennifer had gathered two other girls, also clerks, to help
her. They giggled as Jennifer approached me, touched my forearm in a
sisterly manner, and addressed her friends.
"So, what do you think? Can we get Pamela looking like Brittany Spears?"
"He already does," said her friend Katie.
"I don't think I should be out hear wearing only underwear.
May I go back
into the dressing room, Sara?"
"Not underwear, Pamela. Lingerie! Your lingerie. Now ask again, correctly."
Red faced I said, "Please, Sara, I shouldn't be out here
wearing only my
lingerie. May I please go back into the ladies dressing room? Please?"
"Oh, don't worry, boy," said Katie. "It's almost
closing time. There's
hardly any customers in the store."
"OK, Pamela, but take the clothes with you and finish
dressing. I've got to
The girls had soon handed me all I needed to complete my
"outfit", as Katie
called it, and I returned to the safety of the women's dressing room. With
difficulty, I began to dress. Why, I wondered, do females choose to dress
as they do? It all seems so difficult, with layers of underwear, zippers
inaccessibly located in back or on the side, buttons reversed. While I
worked at dressing, I could overhear Sara fielding questions posed by the
three high school girls, none of whom, apparently, had ever encountered a
male in female clothing. Sara took my lie about being her cousin and ran
"Has your cousin always liked girl things," Jennifer asked.
"Oh yes! That cousin of mine.., you can't imagine! I
remember once when we
were just kids, I think Pamela was in the fourth grade, and his mom brought
him to visit. His mom and mine went shopping, leaving Pamela with me. I was
in my room with my girlfriends when this boy comes into my room and begs to
wear my clothes. "I'm a girl, too," he said, "just like you are!" I was
just soooo embarrassed, as you can imagine. We tried to kick him out of my
room, but he started crying. Well, before long my girlfriends had Pamela
all cutied up. They put my easter dress on him, pink with lace everywhere,
and put my black patent leather shoes on his feet. They put bright red
lipstick on him. Then we all walked to the shopping center. He stood out
like crazy, wearing an easter dress in mid-summer, but we couldn't stop
him. He even bought Barbie doll clothes that day, telling my friends that
he had a Barbie doll at home. It was really embarrassing."
"What about high school? Did Pamela go to high school," I heard Katie ask.
"Yes. He was a boy then. I attended the same school,
although I didn't tell
anyone that he was my cousin. I remember once Pamela nearly got expelled
because he snuck into the girl's locker room after school, and somehow got
dressed in a cheerleader's uniform. I guess a cheerleader had left her
"He didn't," exclaimed Jennifer.
"It's true! So there he was, wearing a short pleated skirt
began to cover his shaved legs, when the entire girls track team enters the
locker room. They laughed and taunted him, and even took all his boy
clothes. He had to walk home, three or four miles, wearing the cheerleader
outfit. Things like that.., well, you girls are in high school. I'm sure
you can guess how girls teased him after that."
"So," I heard the third girl ask, "Pamela must be gay?"
"Well, he should be," said Sara. "No girl would
want a guy that steals her
clothes so as to play dress up."
"That's true," the girl added. "I wouldn't want to
ever see my boyfriend
"You said it," Sara continued, "but no, I doubt
that he's gay. Although I
did hear a rumor at school., well, maybe I shouldn't repeat rumors."
"C'mon, tell us," giggled Katie.
"OK, I suppose there's no harm in telling you. Anyway, after
cheerleading incident, I heard that some jocks had a girl "donate" a short
dress. Then, after gym class, the final hour of the school day, those jocks
cornered Pamela and made her put on the dress. And then they made him suck
a boy's penis."
"Right in front of everybody," asked Katie in awe.
"Yes! Not only in front of the jocks, but the jocks also
girlfriends to the big "event". So there was my sissy cousin, wearing a
short dress, kneeling on the floor sucking a penis, right in high school!
But I didn't really see it happen, you know. I heard it from friends who
heard it from others that supposedly were there. They could be
exaggerating or lying."
"Wow," said Katie.
"Right inside school," added Jennifer.
"What a sissy," exclaimed the other girl.
"Yes, believe me, I was really embarrassed to be his cousin
school. I never admitted to anyone that we were related, nor did I ever
speak to him when at school. Luckily, with him being gringo-looking and me
being Hispanic, few people ever put two plus two together."
By now I had finished dressing. I looked in the full length
mirror and saw
a girl, a skinny teenaged girl, wearing a pleated green and red plaid skirt
which ended at least two inches above her knees, and a simple white
blouse. My maroon shoes had one inch heels and were open-toed.. I truly
believe that, had it been possible at that very moment, I would have fled
out the back door rather than face Sara and the three high school girls
looking as I did. But of course there is no back door in a ladies dressing
room, and besides, the consequences to me had I fled would have been
"Oh, Pamela," gushed Jennifer as she and her two
coworkers stared at the
feminine male emerging from the dressing room. "You do look pretty!"
"Pretty, yes, but rather immature. Maybe he ought to dress
more like a girl
his own age instead of dressing like a middle-school girl."
"Katie!" protested Jennifer. "Please! Don't be a
bitch. Pamela is our
customer, and if he wants to dress like a young girl, that's his right."
"Well, even Brittany Spears doesn't dress like that anymore.
like a hot babe," said Katie. "He looks like an eighth grader in that
"Except for the pantyhose," giggled the other clerk.
pantyhose. In eighth grade a girl can't wear pantyhose."
"Boys aren't allowed to wear pantyhose in eighth grade
either, are they,"
"Girls, let's not refer to Pamela as he or him. I'm sure he
would prefer we
use feminine pronouns. Isn't that right," asked Jennifer.
"Yes. Thank you," I responded, then turned to Sara and
said, "Please, we
must get going."
"Es verdad, senorita," Sara responded. "Now get
all your pretties together
and let's check out."
"Oh, but wait just a minute. Pamela needs makeup to look her
Please?" Jennifer asked Sara, again acting as if I was a little girl and
Sara was my mother.
"Oh, OK, but we must hurry."
Within a minute the schoolgirls had me seated and, while Katie
were busy applying makeup to my face, the other girl, Ashley, applied red
polish to my fingernails. As Jennifer applied eyeliner, Katie took a tube
of red lipstick from her purse and had me pucker.
"Well, Pamela," she said after finishing, "I'll
let you keep my lipstick. I
don't think I'll want to use it again. After all, there's no telling what
your lips have touched." The girls giggled at the implications of Katie's
I began gathering up my purchases when Ashley interrupted.
"Hey. I have a
digital camera in my purse. Let's take a few photographs of him.
Great idea! Can we," Katie asked. She wasn't addressing me;
was posed to Sara. These girls apparently realized that Sara was in full
control of me.
"But wait.," I began to object before Jennifer cut in.
"Oh yes! Then we could show Pamela off to all our friends at
school. Without photographs, they will never believe us. They surely
wouldn't believe how feminine he is."
"Please! Pretty please," they giggled, imploring Sara.
"Oh, OK. I suppose a few more minutes won't matter,"
Sara said without even
glancing at me.
"But wait," I protested, "I can't have photos of me looking like this!"
"Well, you should have though of that before, you know.. Now
nice young ladies a few minutes of your time. After all, they have been
very helpful to you."
"But please, Sara."
"No. You let them take a few photos. Or, if you prefer, I'll
and you can get home on your own. Though, of course, Amanda might not be
With that, it was settled. The girls didn't even wait for my
instead they began to discuss proper poses.
The first photo wasn't bad, as I just sat in a chair, demurely,
knees together and hands clasped upon my lap. A couple more in similar vein
followed. But then Katie, the meanest of the girls, became more
demanding. I was required to pose standing, knees together, hands clasped
behind my back, gazing down, as if I were a little girl being scolded. A
closeup was taken of the girls touching up my makeup. Jennifer asked me to
pout "like Marilyn Monroe". For another shot, they tied the tails of my
blouse in a bow so that my navel showed, had me don a high school sweater,
unbuttoned, so that I was dressed very much like Brittany Spears in her
famous music video. At this, the girls had me sing Brittney's song, "I'm
not so innocent". All the while Sara sat quietly on a chair at the other
side of the lingerie department, paging through a magazine, disinterested
in what was happening to me. What, I wondered, did Sara think of
this. Sara, the beautiful young Hispanic woman of my dreams. Did she enjoy
seeing me be humiliated? Or rather, was she saddened to see the man who
maybe had fathered her child being treated like a Barbie doll? I couldn't
help but hope that the latter was true.
Finally, Ashley announced that there was only enough memory left
for two or
three more photos. The girls had a little pow-wow to decide the final
poses. I couldn't quite hear the discussion, only occasional giggling. I
saw Sara glance at her watch.
Addressing Sara, Katie asked, "We still have a problem. How
can we prove to
our friends at school that your cousin is not just a real girl, rather than
"Yes., and?" Sara said, as if she were barely listening.
"Well, maybe you would let us take a photo of his, you know, vagina area?"
"I don't understand," I interjected, although none of
the females cared
what I thought.
"Go on," Sara said to Katie, while glaring sternly at
me as if to say "shut
"Well, she could, you know, pull her panties down so that,
Pamela's "thing" shows in the photo. That way, our friends at school will
have to believe us. Oh, ma'am, it'll be so neat! Please let us take a
"No," I said, "that could be against the
law." The girls continued to
ignore me. Sara, to my dismay, sided with Katie, simply saying "Go for
More of my protests went ignored as the girls pulled me into the
room. Luckily, Sara didn't join us to witness my degradation. The three
young girls giggled as they discussed "the shot". Even they were blushing
at this point.
Soon Katie had pulled my pantyhose and panties down to a spot
about an inch
or two above my knees. They had me lift up my skirt and the half-slip
beneath it, at which point my bare midriff and my groin were clearly
"Wow. So that's your vagina, Pamela. It sure looks funny on
a girl," Ashley
said. "It almost looks like a normal penis. I thought it would look
somehow more, you know, feminine."
"Oh, Ashley," exclaimed Katie, "just what would a
feminine penis look like?
Maybe you expected it to be pink with lacy ruffles," she laughed. "What do
you think, Jennifer?"
Jennifer, who had been quietly staring at my crotch till now,
a near- whisper, as if she were engaged in something naughty. "I don't
know, Katie. I've never actually seen a real man's private parts. Although
I have seen pictures, you know, in some movies."
"What! You've never seen a guy's dick before? You can't call
that thing a
real man's penis, Jen. It's a sissy dick."
"His penis is smaller than my boyfriend's," said
Ashley. "And so are her
"Please," I begged the girls, "let's finish this."
"OK, sissy-boy," said Katie. "Just stand there.
Hold your skirt up with one
hand, and cradle your baby penis in your other hand." There followed a
bright flash, then another.
Unfortunately, the presence of pretty females and the handling of
had a natural result. I began to harden.
"Look," Jennifer exclaimed, "it's growing!"
"That means the sissy-boy is getting turned on. I guess that
clothes does that to you, right, Pamela?"
"No. No, ma'am," I replied to Katie. It's just
that.." My words fumbled.
"You know. Ah. I.."
"Does that mean she's going to ejaculate," Jennifer asked Ashley.
"Ejaculate? Jennifer, you talk like a school sex-education
"I think he'd come if he rubs it. Isn't that how it works,
sissy? Oh, go
ahead, sissy, jack off. We won't tell on you," Katie said.
By this time my penis was erect and throbbing. There was a bright
Ashley took the final photo. I desperately wanted to come, and the only way
it would happen was by going solo. I began to rub it, back and forth.
"So, Pamela is masturbating," asked Jennifer, as I
closed my eyes and
proceeded with the task at hand.
"Yes," said Katie, "the sissy is rubbing his tiny penis."
It took only a few moments. A black, depthless sense of shame
soul as I exploded. The girls were clearly shocked, even the "experienced"
Katie, by what I had done. As shame and loneliness engulfed me, I began to
quietly weep. Most of the semen had shot out and fell to the floor,
narrowly missing Ashley, although the final few spurts soiled my panties
and pantyhose, which were still down around my knees.
"Look," whispered Jennifer, "she's crying, just like a little girl."
"You mean, like a sissy boy," Katie added.
"Hey," Jennifer said to me, ignoring Katie's cutting
remark, "I'm sorry we
made you sad, Pamela. I didn't mean to hurt you. Now stop crying or you'll
ruin your mascara."
Unsteady and drained, I could barely remain standing. Jennifer
tissue and very carefully wiped tears from my face. I let my skirt fall,
covering my maleness. Jennifer gently ran her fingers through my hair,
cooing, "It's all OK, Pamela. You're a nice girl. And pretty," as if I
were a baby.
"Jesus, Jennifer," said Katie, "your "nice
girl" just jerked off in the
ladies dressing room! That's not nice and it's not girlish."
"C'mon, let's get the sissy boy out of here before we all
get in trouble,"
"Make him wipe up that nasty stuff first," Katie said.
"We sure can't leave
it all over the floor. He can lick it up. He'd probably like it."
"No, please. I'll clean it up," I pleaded, then wiggled
out of my panties
and pulled up my pantyhose. On my knees, I used my panties to wipe my cum
off the floor as the girls watched. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have
done that," I said to no one in particular.
"I really think you two should quit referring to Pamela as
"he" or as
"sissy-boy". Pamela's a girl, almost like us," Jennifer said.
"A sissy-girl," Katie laughed.
After I cleaned up my mess I exited the dressing room. Sara had
looking over some shoes across the aisle, unaware of what had happened.
"Are you finished," she said, exasperated, as I
approached her. "Now get
your pretties and let's check out."
"Yes, Sara," I replied obediently.
A section of the floor of the ladies room was still shiny wet as
pretty schoolgirls chatted.
"So that's what it looks like when a guy comes," Jennifer asked innocently.
"Yes, Jen," Katie answered, "except that usually
the guy isn't wearing
"Or a bra," giggled Ashley.
"Or high heels, or lipstick," Katie continued, laughing with Ashley.
"Now, don't be so hard on Pamela," Jennifer countered.
"Just let her be a
girl, too. But tell me, was Pamela's penis big, small, or medium? I just
wonder, you know."
"Oh, your sissy-boy has a small penis, believe me,"
Ashley lied. My
boyfriend Jimmy's is much larger. Maybe that's why the sissy wants to be a
girl, he's too small to be a real man."
"You're right, Ashley, but let's keep this to ourselves. I
don't want to
get fired over this," Katie said.
I followed Sara as she quickly walked across the store to the
area. A middle-aged woman watched me suspiciously as I set on the counter
the large amount of feminine items I was purchasing. Did she suspect my
true gender, or merely careful because I wore clothes I was purchasing?
Silently she scanned the sales receipts of the items I had removed from the
clothing I wore, then scanned all the other items. The final item was my
soiled panties. I tried to explain that I had spilled water on them, which
was why I had removed the sales receipt. Sara paid cash, over $600, and we
left the store. Outside in the darkness I felt free, as if a great anxiety
had lifted. As Sara backed from her parking place the three schoolgirls,
Jennifer, Katie and Ashley, stepped outside and waved to me. I waved
back. I'm sure they thought I was simply happy to now own so many new
clothes, girl clothes, but actually I was just overjoyed to be finished
with the shopping. And maybe, maybe I was experiencing a bit of post-sex
giddiness. Jennifer even threw me a kiss as Sara drove off.
"Looks like you've made some new girlfriends, Pamela. You're
prima-donna, aren't you?" She laughed sarcastically. "Maybe you'd like to
go back to school, only as a girl this time?"
"It's not like I'm enjoying this, Sara. I kinda got the
Amanda that my options were limited."
"Oh, you could have tried your luck with the law, Pamela. I
that's what all of the men I know would have done. They wouldn't don a
dress just to get out of trouble."
I was silent. Sara was right. I couldn't picture any of the guys
succumbing so easily to Amanda's twisted notions.
"But Sara, it all happened so fast. I was hung over, scared,
and far from
home. But maybe you are right. This is, well, wrong. It's like I've
surrendered my manhood. Maybe I should have said no to Amanda. I should
have resisted more."
"You don't know Mandy, Pamela. If you now disobey her you'll
end up even
worse off then had you just surrendered to the police right away. Amanda is
vindictive. She loves being the boss. That's why Pam, the real Pamela,
quit. She couldn't take Amanda's constant orders. Mandy doesn't ride me,
though. I believe she actually is in love with me. She's bi, or maybe
lesbian. But, believe me, if you don't do exactly as she says, she'll make
damn sure that I report the rape to the police, immediately."
"And I will, Pamela. My allegiance is to Amanda, 100%. Not
to you. You do
"Yes, I suppose so." I was thankful the darkness
obscured Sara's view of
the effeminate being I had become.
"It's not that I hate you, or even dislike you. I don't,
really. Maybe I should, considering that you raped me. Mandy thinks I
should hate you, that's for sure. But I don't. I know how drunk you
were. Gosh, I gave you those rum and cokes, several of them on the
house. That's what got you to where you are now. And it's not like I was a
virgin until I met you."
"I appreciate that you don't hate me, Sara. But what should
I do now? I
suppose I could just leave and if the law catches up with me, well, so be
it," I said softly.
"Oh, Pamela. I'm a woman, a pretty woman. I very much enjoy
female. So really, to me, your punishment doesn't seem like such a big
deal. To me, being a girl is enjoyable, not punishment. That said, I do
understand that, to men, the idea of being feminine is, maybe, worse than
"So, you think I should just, what, act like a woman," I asked.
"Hey, it's too late now for you to stake out some macho high
seen yourself in a mirror. My gosh, Pamela, once you wiggled into those
pantyhose, you crossed the border."
"My suggestion to you," Sara continued after a long
pause, "is to simply
accept your punishment. If you work hard, Mandy will eventually forgive you
and then you can be back on your way to Iowa."
"Accept my punishment like a man," I said dryly.
"No," Sara laughed, "not exactly like a man."
Sara turned the vehicle into the Paradise View's parking lot, my
prison, and parked. We sat together in darkness. Sara seemed to be
"Look, Pamela," she said as she gently grasped my hand,
"whatever path you
take is OK with me. Que sera, sera. I'm not angry with you anymore. As a
matter of fact, I rather like you. I'll accept you as a guy or as a girl,"
she whispered as she leaned towards me and gently kissed my cheek. "Your
problem is with Amanda, and with the State of Texas, neither of which
should be taken lightly."
"You know, Sara," I said solemnly, "you could be carrying our child."
Sara laughed. "Yes, Pamela, in which case we'd better hope
for a daughter.
She'll have two mothers to teach her how to be a girl!"
I followed Sara to Amanda's house, which was about a block west
hotel, away from the highway noise. Unused to walking in heels, I had
difficulty keeping up. My heart throbbed with a mixture of fear and
Sara entered without knocking. Odd, I thought, Sara must live with Amanda.
"Mandy!" Sara called, "We're back. And Pamela looks ravishing!"
Amanda entered the room, wrapped in a large towel, her hair wet,
having just stepped from the shower.
"Yes, I see, Sara," she said as she slowly walked
around me, studying my
appearance carefully. "Very well, although a tad juvenile, don't you think?
What's next, diapers?"
I didn't respond. Amanda was obviously speaking to Sara, not me.
"Well, it's what Pamela wanted," she replied
defensively. "He asked the
sales clerk for a Brittany Spears look. I think he looks cute."
"So, maybe Pamela should join the Mickey Mouse Club,
too," Amanda said
"Now take your clothes off," Amanda said, looking directly at me.
"What," I responded, "right here?"
Amanda's slap stung my right cheek. "Don't question me,
ever, you pervert.
And from now on, you will address me only as "Mistress Amanda". Do you
"Yes., yes I."
"What did I tell you? Now try again!"
"Yes," I said, stunned, "Mistress Amanda. I understand."
"That's better. Now undress."
As I undressed, Amanda continued. "And, Pamela, you will
address Sara as "Mistress Sara". Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress," I said as I struggled to remove my pantyhose.
"Oh, Mandy, I don't want to be called Mistress," Sara interjected.
"I understand, dear," Amanda said compassionately, but
Pamela must come to
know her position here. It's for the best, honey."
"OK, Mandy, whatever you say."
"If Pamela wants to stay out of prison, she must fit in
around here. She
must help us out. And to do that she must be a girl, Sara. A subservient
girl. You know I never hire any males. In fact, Pamela should address all
her coworkers as Mistress, just so she doesn't begin to think of herself as
equal to anyone."
"So, Pamela, do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress Amanda," I replied while gently folding
my pantyhose and
setting them atop my skirt and blouse.
Sara told Amanda about our shopping trip, about Jennifer, Katie,
About how nicely I cooperated and even seemed to enjoy shopping for pretty
clothes, "just like real girls do". She mentioned the photos. By this time
I was naked except for my bra, and was having difficulty reaching the
clasps at my back. I turned red with embarrassment as Sara described the
private photos the girls took of my "vagina".
"Are you saying that Pamela posed for pictures with that
Amanda asked, incredulously, while pointing at my penis.
"Well, yes, I guess so," Sara replied, somewhat
flustered. "I didn't
actually see it.; it's what the girls wanted, Mandy."
"Show me, Pamela, how did you pose?"
"Well, ma'am, I mean Mistress, Mistress Amanda (I was
trembling), they had
me set my balls and penis in the palm of my hand, like this", I said while
reaching for my cock.
"And then they took photographs?"
"Yes, mistress Amanda." Sara was gazing at me, standing
naked except for
my stuffed bra, as I withered under Amanda's interrogation.
"OK, Pamela, allow me to explain things to you once again.
This is Texas.
There are more men imprisoned here than in all of China. So, now there's
clear evidence that you raped Sara, and there's also clear evidence that
you are a pervert who exposes himself to schoolgirls. Do you have any idea
how many years you'll rot in prison for this?"
"But I only did it because I thought you were making me."
Amanda glared at me.
"Mistress Amanda, I mean."
"That's better, Pamela, I'm Mistress to you."
She turned to Sara. "What do you think, should we just call
right now and get this over with?"
"Please," I said softly, "please, Mistress
Sara." I stood in the middle of
the room, nearly naked. Sara sat to my left in a chair. Amanda was seated
on the sofa, directly in from of me, wearing only a towel.
"Let's give Pamela a chance, Mandy. After all, we do need a
Amanda stood up. The towel fell to the floor. Her skin was soft;
breasts, while not large, were perfectly formed, as was her ass. Slowly she
walked around me. She was taller than I had thought. Without my heels, she
appeared to be taller than me.
"Pamela has potential. She has no big muscles. Little fat.
in fact. Maybe, if you're a good girl, we can get you some nice titties,
just like mine. Wouldn't that be nice, sissy?"
"Yes, Mistress Amanda", I lied.
"But before that, we'll need to get your hair and nails
done. You have little facial hair, but you'll need some electrolysis,
She discussed my feminization with Sara even as she probed my body.
"Firm, but still a tad small for a girl," she said while feeling my ass.
"Baby soft," she laughed when feeling my biceps.
"Very feminine," she said as she ran her hand along my
shaved thighs and
Given that a very pretty, naked girl was touching me all over,
problem recurred. My penis, which was still cradled in my hand, hardened.
"Oh look, Sara," Amanda said sarcastically when she
noticed my "problem",
"Pamela is getting aroused. Tell us, Pamela, what thoughts are you
thinking? Why are you so excited?"
"How pretty you are, Mistress," I said honestly.
"Need I remind you that you're a girl," Amanda said.
"Now tell me again,
what are you thinking? What is it that so excites you?"
"I,.. I don't understand." I replied.
"Sara, maybe you can help Pamela find a proper answer. As a
girl, Sara, what excites you?"
"Oh, I get it! Men! Men doing things to me, that turns me
"Right", said Amanda. "Now Pamela, describe what
you're thinking. What
thoughts are turning you on so? And don't stop until I tell you to stop, or
else we end this now and I hire a real woman tomorrow." She sat back down
on the couch, naked, and waited for me to talk. It took me a few moments to
grasp what was expected of me. How, I wondered, would this nightmare end?
"Oh," I said, "Mistress Amanda."
"Yes, and Mistress Sara," I continued, blushing deeply
at the humiliation
of having Sara, with whom I was so enamored, watching and listening.
"I was thinking of how I would, well, enjoy having a man., a
man hold me.,
and kiss me all over," I found myself thinking of what girls used to enjoy
in high school, and used that as my guide, "and he would play with my
titties, and with my ass. He would forcibly kiss me. His tongue would probe
my mouth. He would taste my lipstick.."
"And what would your boyfriend look like, dear," Amanda asked.
"Oh, Mistresses, I suppose., I mean I know my boyfriend
would be strong.
Muscular. His arms would not be like mine. They would be thick, strong,
"And what would he do to you, dear," Amanda asked, smiling.
"He would, well, violate me, Mistress Amanda.."
"Be more specific, Pamela! What exactly would you do to your boyfriend?"
"I would take it., his erect penis., into my mouth, Mistress
Mistress Sara. I would lick it all over., and then I would take it into my
mouth., and suck my..., boyfriend's cock, for a long time I would suck it.,
and then my boyfriend would ejaculate. I would please him that way,
"And would you swallow his cum," Amanda asked. I
glanced towards Sara. She
was watching me, wide-eyed, clearly astonished.
"Yes, Mistresses, I would swallow his cum because., because
it would make
my boyfriend happy. Girls do that, to make their boyfriends happy.."
I was still holding my erect penis and was stuttering on when
interrupted. "Mandy, Pamela has to work tomorrow. Maybe she should call it
"Oh Sara, you're so protective of your new sissy friend,
aren't you? But
OK, you're right. Pamela, go back to your room. Then you can jack off while
you imagine yourself getting screwed by your boyfriend."
"Yes Mistress. May I get dressed, then?"
"No. Just leave, immediately!"
"Yes Mistress, thank you, Mistress," I replied, then
quickly picked my
clothes up and stepped out the door, still naked, still hard. Luckily the
porch light was off and no neighbors were outside. I donned my blouse and
skirt, slipped on my high heels, and swiftly returned to my room. Exhausted
and shamed, I lay down and slept.
Thankfully my situation improved somewhat after Sunday evening's
Monday morning Sara stopped by my room, told me to not worry as Amanda had
left for a couple of days to visit relatives. She said that Amanda would
ease up on me once I proved to her that I was a good worker. Sara helped me
dress properly, and taught me a bit about applying makeup. "You've got a
lot to learn, Pamela," she said. "Being a girl takes a lot of skill."
Soon I was smartly dressed in the former maid's uniform, a one
almost like a nurses uniform, colored gray with pink pinstripes. I had
assumed that as a maid I would be allowed to wear the slacks I had worn
yesterday. However, Sara said that Amanda thought it more appropriate that
I wear the maid's dress while on duty. Which, of course, meant I also wore
pantyhose, something I found to be most uncomfortable.
Sara also suggested I wear a panty girdle, as it would hide the
any "excitement" like that of the previous evening. I blushed at her
Sara and I went to the hotel's restaurant for breakfast.
"Maybe it's a good
thing Amanda had to leave, Pamela. It'll take some of the pressure off you
while you adjust to your new situation.
"Yes, Mistress Sara," I replied, "you can't
imagine how relieved I am that
Mistress Amanda isn't here."
"But she did leave me detailed instructions which I'm
required to follow,
"I understand, Mistress Sara. Am I required to use
"Mistress" if Amanda is
"Yes, Pamela. I know you must feel silly having to say
"Mistress" over and
over, like you're some type of slave girl. But Amanda insists, and she's
the boss. Anyway," Sara continued, smiling so beautifully, "I'm beginning
to enjoy it." She reached her hand and gently patted my shoulder. "It gives
me a feeling of power that I've never had before."
"At my expense, Mistress," I noted sadly.
"True," but Amanda is right. It's really all your fault.
Yes, Mistress Sara, I suppose it is," I replied.
After finishing a dainty breakfast ("Amanda's orders,"
Sara said, "she says
all girls your age are dieting, and you should too!), Sara took me around
and introduced me, one by one, to the other workers.
First was Tanya, a young Russian immigrant working the front
desk. She was
very pretty, slim with long dark hair and green eyes, and a sensuous
foreign accent. Because she worked at the front desk, Tanya dressed
Mary was a 30-something married woman who worked in the kitchen
cleaned rooms. I also met Amy, a petite, young high school girl. Sara
mentioned that Amy and two other girls from a nearby high school worked
part-time, doing most anything asked of them.
Given my situation, each introduction was most uncomfortable for
me, and I
noticed my coworkers were also a bit embarrassed during the
introductions. Following Amanda's instructions, Sara introduced me as the
"new girl" and mentioned how appreciative I was to be the motel's full-time
maid. Each of my coworkers was told that if they needed anything, I would
respond immediately. Each was also told that, as a maid, I was required to
address each of my coworkers as "Mistress". Then Sara would mention that I
was fairly new to the "sisterhood of females" and I would greatly
appreciate any tips they might be able to offer as to how I might become
Although these introductions were humiliating, I was thankful
Sara did not
mention the rape. Sara told me that it must be kept secret; I must never
mention it to anyone. If word of the rape got out, Amanda would have no
choice but to get the police involved.
My coworkers were either too surprised, or stunned, to ask any
Only Amy, the high school girl, was bold (or naive) enough to say anything.
"I don't understand, Sara, what do you mean by
sisterhood?" she asked. "Is
Pamela your sister?"
"No, Amy," Sara laughed, "Pamela is not my sister!
Pam, maybe you should
explain yourself to Amy."
"Yes, Mistress Sara," I replied hesitantly.
"Well, you see, Mistress Amy, I am, well, sort of male, but
becoming like you, a girl like you, maybe.."
"Becoming a girl?"
"Yes, yes, but maybe not just like you. You are more girl
than I am, of
course. I mean, anatomically, I'm still not really., female, but I've just
decided to dress like girls, do you understand?"
"Oh, I get it! You're one of those sissy boys that like to
wear dresses. I
see! Well that's really neat, Pamela. And you're kinda cute."
"Thank you, Mistress Amy," I said.
"Let's go, Pamela, time you got to work, girl," said Sara.
"Yes, Mistress," I said, then turned and said "Bye, Mistress Amy."
It was Mary, middle-aged mother of two daughters, who was
assigned to teach
me how to be a motel maid. We started in Room 211, a second floor room with
"Yes, Mistress Mary, I see," I said as she showed me
how to make a perfect
bed. Mary watched while I struggled to do the same.
"I wonder what Pam, the real Pam, I mean, will say when she
finds out that
a guy is wearing her dresses and using her name?" I didn't respond.
"Although Pam rarely wore the dresses. She preferred slacks.
wasn't as feminine as you," Mary said sarcastically.
"Mistress Amanda prefers I wear dresses, Mistress
Mary," I said, avoiding
"And does Amanda prefer you wear high heels, mascara, and
nail polish? Most
motel maids don't, you know."
"But, I prefer to look my best, Mistress," I replied,
stealing a quick
glance at her.
Mary rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Well, you look more like
a hooker than
a maid. Let me warn you, sissy, and I'll warn you only once. My husband
drops me off and picks me up here, every day. He knows all the workers
here, and he flirts with them all. He'll probably flirt with you, too. But
if you so much as glance at him, or say anything more than "Hello"; if you
should wink at him, or ever so slightly raise your skirt, or lick your
lips., whatever., I will find out, sissy, and I'll scratch that pretty face
of yours so badly that no guy will ever want you!"
Stunned by Mary's outburst, I tried to apologize, but she left me
the room on my own.
Amanda returned on Friday morning. Other than the exchange with
week was uneventful. Except for Sara, all the employees were wary of me, a
suspicion which was, I believe, prolonged by my addressing them as
"Mistress". All the women, including Sara, were uneasy with being in a
I worked hard. Sara explained that the motel housed mostly
during the week, and generally had few guests staying on weekend
nights. Cleaning each room was not easy, but it was solo work. I enjoyed
being alone, as my newfound gender confusion made me eager to withdraw. In
addition to cleaning the rooms and making beds, I also washed the towels
and linen, cleaned common areas, swept sidewalks, emptied trash, and at
times cleaned the kitchen and washed dishes. By day's end I was
exhausted. There was no television in my room, although Sara loaned me
magazines (Cosmo, Seventeen, Glamour) and Tanya lent me romance novels when
she finished reading them. I would have chosen other entertainment, had I a
choice. Reading such sources did give me greater insight into women's
thoughts. Also, each evening Sara required me to "do my nails," which to
females apparently means removing fingernail polish, shaping and filing the
nails, and applying a new coat of polish. Sara forbid me to lock my room,
which meant I had to stay in female attire at all times. Amanda had even
required that I sleep wearing my pink, lacy nightgown, and the staff was
allowed to peek into my room unannounced at any time to see how I was
It was just before noon on Friday when Sara found me cleaning
"Pamela," she said, "Amanda's back, and she wants to see you in the office,
Distraught over once again confronting Amanda, I nonetheless sat
Sara quickly brushed my hair and helped me "freshen up" my lipstick.
Nervously I entered Amanda's office. She was seated at the desk,
the computer. Amanda ignored my presence, instead addressing Sara. "Would
you please do me a favor, honey? I've made a doctor's appointment for
Pamela for this afternoon. Could you drive her there, please? I'm really
behind on paying bills."
Oh, sure Mandy," Sara replied as Amanda handed her a slip of paper.
"But," I blurted out, "but Mistress.."
Amanda quickly cut me off, saying, "That is all! Now please
changed into something pretty, and be on your way. Thank you, Sara."
Sara grasped my hand and led me from the room. "Come on,
Pamela, don't get
Mandy angry again. It's probably just a physical, maybe required for
insurance or something."
We went to my room where Sara selected a rose-colored dress.
match your shoes, Pamela. You must match your outfit and your accessories,
now that you're a girl," she scolded. The dress was short and stylish. Too
stylish, as it had come from the Juniors department, and so short that the
hem extended only midway between my groin and my knees. Quickly Sara
touched up my makeup again, and we were off.
"Mistress Sara, I can't do this. Please, please, let's not
do this. You
could talk with Amanda, reason with her. Tell her how I've worked hard all
week. I would feel so foolish in a doctor's office." Traffic was light as
Sara drove towards the city.
"Pamela! I'm not your mother! If you think you could have
mind, you should have done it before we left. I surely cannot. I know
Mandy. But if this upsets you so much, I'll pull over right now and let
you out. But be willing to accept the consequences. And quit whining!"
"I'm sorry, Mistress. But I just don't know what to do anymore."
"Well, I'd suggest you just get this over with. Quit
complaining. Act like
a man with a spine, Pamela."
"Yes, Mistress," I replied uneasily as Sara pulled the
car into a
nondescript suburban office complex. "Grab your purse, Pamela, and let's
go. Amanda will be upset if you miss your appointment!"
I followed Sara into the building. We went to Room 11. The sign
on the door
listed several physicians. Sara double-checked the paper Amanda had given
her. "OK, Pamela, your appointment is with Doctor Jenson." I nervously
took a seat in the waiting room while Sara went to the front desk. I was
unable to overhear the brief conversation Sara had with the receptionist. I
felt a grave sense of apprehension. Until now, my punishment had been
confined to the Paradise View and my trip to Mervyns. I had come to feel
secure at the motel; it was like a large closet where I could hide from the
world. But here I had no such security. I was a man, and while I had been
largely able to hide that fact from guests at the motel, here it was
impossible to maintain my disguise. One thing I had come to realize during
the past week: it was far better if others viewed me as a woman rather than
as a man dressed as a woman.
"You're in luck, Pamela, the nurse is ready for you,"
Sara said as she
approached me, then whispered, "and Pamela, I told them that you are my
niece, since you need a relative accompanying you. And Amanda is your
mom. So from now on call me "auntie", and drop the mistress stuff. Got it?"
I was shocked. How could Sara be my aunt? She was only a year
older than I.
She grasped my hand and led me through a door to an examination room.
A nurse was already waiting there. She was a young woman about my
no wedding ring and was somewhat overweight, with a cheerful, girlish
demeanor. She wore a pale pink nurses uniform, with slacks. In fact, I
realized with considerable embarrassment, so far I was the only person
wearing a dress or skirt.
"Good afternoon, Pamela, my name is Janet," she said as
she sat at a small
desk. Sara sat in the only other chair in the room. "Please have a seat on
the examining table." I did as told, and thus I was sitting up much higher
than either Janet or Sara. Sara continued talking, occasionally writing
notes on a printout which lay on the desk.
"So," Janet continued, "your mother, Amanda, set
up this appointment for
you. She mentioned that you were too shy to make the appointment for
"Yes, ma'am," I replied.
"Well, Pamela, you shouldn't be embarrassed. Not at all. I'd
like to thank
your aunt for coming here with you," Janet said, nodding towards Sara, who
was watching this in what seemed disbelief. "The process is simple. First,
I must ask you a few mandatory questions, then we measure and record your
statistics - height, weight, and so on - and then Doctor Jenkins will visit
with you. Do you have any questions?"
"No, ma'am," I said, although in fact I had many but was afraid to ask.
"Great! Then let's get started," she said, smiling.
Janet's first questions
were innocuous: name, address, prior illnesses, and so on. "Now," she
continued, turning to the next page of the questionnaire, "we have a few
more, ah, personal questions to ask you. Let's see., Pamela.., at what age
did you first menstruate?"
"I'm sorry?" I replied, confused.
"Your period, Pamela. When did you have your first period?"
"Well., I haven't had a., period, ma'am." I blushed with embarrassment.
"I realize these questions may be embarrassing,
Pamela," Janet said,
noticing my reddened face, "particularly to a girl with your, ah., history,
for lack of a better word. But it's required I ask these questions of all
patients. Just answer honestly, dear."
I glanced towards Sara for help, but she just sat, staring,
amazed at what I would do. "Oh, yes ma'am. I 'm sorry, ma'am. No, I
haven't had a period, yet."
"So you haven't menstruated?"
"Have you had any children, Pamela?"
"Do I have children," I asked, unsure of the question.
"Have you given birth, Pamela. Are you a mother?"
"And are you pregnant, Pamela?"
"No ma'am," I replied softly, "I'm not pregnant."
"But maybe someday, my dear niece," Sara joked,
apparently trying to
relieve my tension.
"One never knows," Janet laughed. "Science can do
wonders these days." Now,
let's see, next question: Pamela, are you sexually active?"
"Why, no., no I'm not."
"You don't have a boyfriend, Pamela?"
"Have you had intercourse within the past three months?"
"Do you mean., like, with a man?"
"Yes, silly girl! With a man." Janet giggled. "I
mean, Pamela, has a man
had intercourse with you. I mean, has a man taken you like a woman?"
"No ma'am," I replied, ever more embarrassed.
"Final question, Pamela. Do you masturbate, and if so, how often?"
"But," I stammered, wishing I were dead, "why do you need to know that?"
"Oh Pamela, you are shy, aren't you! It's important so that
Jenkins examines your vagina, she will properly be able to measure it."
"But, you know., I don't really have a vagina."
"As I said earlier, Pamela, these are important questions
which must be
asked of all our patients. I realize they may not exactly apply to you,
given your, ah, plumbing, but please understand, you are the first girl
with your., situation., that's ever been here. We surely can't change all
our forms just for you, can we?"
Sara spoke up, "Pamela masturbates. Almost every day. She
told me so. End
"Thank you, " said Janet, grateful to end this line of
Pamela, I'll give you an initial physical and then we'll get your height
and weight. Now take your clothes off, please."
"My dress, ma'am," I asked hopefully.
"Yes miss, your dress. Also your bra, panties, pantyhose., everything."
"May I wear a gown, ma'am? Please."
"Later, Pamela, but not yet. Now hurry. I have other
patients to attend
Sara was frowning at me, as if to add her "Hurry up" to
Janet's. While I
began undressing, Sara chatted with the nurse. I reached back and, with
some difficulty, was able to undo the buttons to my dress, then carefully
slipped it off me. Next I removed my lacy white slip. The girls chatted as
if I were not present, but I couldn't help but notice that they were both
watching me, a young man, standing before them wearing a bra, panty girdle,
"So, does your niece do her own shopping," asked Janet.
Oh sure, she enjoys it just like any other girl. You know, she
cute dress just last Monday at Mervyns' Juniors department."
"The Juniors department? I wish I could shop there," Janet added.
Before long I was completely, utterly naked, crowded in the tiny
examination room with two young ladies.
"Very good, Pamela," Janet said. Her voice wavered;
clearly she was a bit
flustered to see my male anatomy. "My, you do keep your fingernails and
toenails looking pretty. You are a pretty girl, you know," she continued,
apparently trying to put me at ease.
Carefully she checked my arms for needle tracks, my body for
ears and my eyes. "At this point, I would normally check your vagina,
Pamela, but I see you have a slight problem in that area," she said,
"Yes ma'am," I agreed as she used her gloved hand to
raise and lower my
penis and balls. I doubt she even knew what she was looking for. Having
been so tightly constricted by the girdle, my private parts had shrunk to a
"Very good, Pamela, now say goodbye to your aunt."
Janet turned to Sara and
said, "Pamela should be finished here within another thirty minutes. You
may sit in the waiting room, and I'll send her out when we're done."
"Pamela," Janet continued, "please slip your shoes on and follow me."
"But ma'am, I can't go out like this!"
"Oh, miss, don't be so shy. We only employ women here, and
all our patients
are female, so you should feel comfortable. After all, you are a girl deep
inside. That is why you are here, isn't it? Now come on, Pamela. I've got
to treat you just like every other girl!"
Thus it was that I followed Janet into the hallway, naked except
high heels, my nails all painted bright red, my face made up and my hair
styled, looking almost female except for my flat chest and flaccid
cock. Sara, looking astonished, followed us out the door, then turned and
walked to the waiting room.
The scale was set right in the middle of the hallway, central to
and to the six or seven examination rooms. Janet had me stand on the scale
as she carefully measured my weight. I tried to cover my genitals with my
hands. Two other nurses approached; they wore uniforms identical to
"Hi!" said Janet to the two nurses. "Pamela, I'd
like to introduce you to
Kim and Mary. On a later visit one of them may be assisting you."
"Hello Kim. Hello Mary," I said weakly. Kim was a very
oriental girl, while Mary was blond and tall. They were young, maybe
younger than me. Both were smiling at me or at my predicament.
"Hi, Pamela," exclaimed Kim. "It's so very nice to
meet you. My, your shoes
are so pretty! Where did you get them?"
"Thank you, Kim," I stuttered. "I bought my shoes at Mervyns."
Janet had me step off the scale, and then had Kim and Mary help
her take my
measurements. It was impossible to be modest, as I was required to put my
arms above my head ("like a ballerina," said Mary), while the girls used a
tape measure to carefully measure my waist, hips, underarms, thighs, and
even leg length. As this was going on all the other employees, even the
receptionist, "just happened" to walk by. Janet introduced me to each, even
as I stood with arms above my head, hands together. Each woman smiled at
me. I suspected that later on they would be laughing at me as they told
their friends or husbands about the sissy patient.
When the three nurses finished measuring me, a middle aged woman
approached. "Hello. I'm doctor Jenkins. You must be Pamela. Follow me,
My high heels clicked loudly as I minced along. "Most women
don't wear high
heels when they come here. Maybe on your next visit you should wear
something more comfortable."
"Yes ma'am," I replied.
The doctor, Janet, and I entered a larger room. It had an
table, but also had rows of bright lights and a large amount of
expensive-looking camera equipment. First I laid face down on the table, as
doctor Jenkins pinched my ass cheeks. Then they had me lie face up, while
the doctor pinched and probed my breast area.
"Pamela, your mother says you want to have your breasts
enhanced, and would also like fuller, more feminine hips. So, have you
considered what size breasts you would like, young lady?"
I was shocked. Sara had thought I would just get a routine
tried to conceal my surprise and my embarrassment. "Well., no., no I
haven't, ma'am. My mother said that., maybe., you could help me., decide."
"Tell me, Pamela, did you attend high school as a girl?"
"Why no, ma'am, I didn't," I replied.
"Oh. That's too bad. A girl's locker room is the best place
to observe the
spectrum of female breasts. So tell me, miss, other than your breasts, have
you ever inspected, closely, first person, any female's breasts?"
"No, doctor, no., I guess I haven't," I replied. I
couldn't but suspect
that the stern doctor was just pointing out that I was not manly enough to
have been intimate with a girl.
The doctor whispered something to Janet. She left, and soon
Kim and Mary. Then all three nurses removed their blouses and bras.
"I'm sure you realize the importance of making a correct
lady. If, for example, you choose very large breasts, you'll find that your
back will suffer and you'll be maked to wear firm brassieres at all times.
On the other hand, if you choose very small breasts, you may
psychologically feel inadequately female. And of course, young lady, you
must remember that as you age your breasts will sag. That's an unfortunate
fact for all of us women."
"Now, Kim wears a B cup, Mary has a C cup, and Janet has a D
the difference in the size of each girl's breasts. Now, in your minds eye,
when you picture yourself getting undressed in the evening, which breast
size do you see in the mirror, Kim's, or Mary's, or Janet's?"
I was dumbfounded. I'd never imagined myself with breasts, after
responded that I saw Janet's breasts in my mirror, mostly because she'd
been nice to me.
"Just as I guessed, young lady, you want large breasts. I
understandable. OK, girls, thank you very much for helping this young lady
chose her new breasts." Next, while the nurses dressed, Doctor Jenkins
gave me a shot. She told me what it was, but the medical name meant
nothing to me, then she left me to the care of the three nurses.
"May I dress now, ma'am," I asked (pleaded) Janet.
"Not yet, young lady," she scolded. "You are just
so modest, Pamela.
Really." Next I was required to pose under the bright lights in various
positions, while Janet took a series of photographs. For example, I was
required to stand straight, with legs together and hands clasped behind my
back; for another shot I had to squat; and for several I had to lie down on
a pink blanket, first on my side, then on my back, and then on my belly
with my head held by my forearm.
"Why are these necessary," I protested.
"Don't fuss, Miss," Mary said sternly, "you'll
find out later. If you like,
we'll get your aunt in here to hold your hand during the photo session."
"Oh no, ma'am, please don't. It's OK. I won't
complain," I replied. The
last thing I wanted now was Sara witnessing my degradation.
"Just imagine yourself at a beach, wearing a skimpy bikini,
body off to all the boys," Mary said with a sarcastic giggle.
"Could I at least wear panties to cover up my., you know., my "thing"?"
"No, Pamela, you can't cover up your little wee-wee. Now
hush up and let us
"OK, young lady, that's it for today. You may go back and
get dressed, then
tell your aunt to see the receptionist to schedule your next appointment,"
said Janet. With the photo session finally over and I still naked except
for my maroon high heels, I slipped out the door and into the hallway. It
was empty except for the receptionist, who had just exited the ladies
room. She stared at me as I minced down the hallway in my heels. When I
opened the door to the small examination room I was surprised to see it
occupied: Dr. Jenkins was there with a middle-aged woman and her daughter,
a thin girl of high school age. The girl stared at me, smiling, while her
overweight mother scowled.
"Please, young lady," Dr. Jenkins said sternly,
"get dressed! You
absolutely cannot walk naked around here. Take your clothes and dress in
the ladies room."
I apologized profusely to them as I entered the tiny examination
gathered up my dress, bra, panties, slip and pantyhose. As I grasped my
purse my bra fell to the floor, and when I bent down to pick it up I
couldn't help but give the woman and her daughter an unwanted, up close
look at my hairless ass.
"Look, mom," the girl whispered, "that boy wears a
dress exactly like the
one you bought me for my birthday. That's so cute!"
"No," the mother said aloud, "that boy is disgusting."
The ladies room was down the hall. Luckily it was vacant. I
entered a stall
and hurriedly dressed. An enormous sense of relief came over me when, fully
dressed at last, I stepped before the full-length mirror and straightened
my hair. True, I still looked ridiculous wearing a girl's dress, but at
least I was no longer naked. I hurried to the waiting room and was
immensely relieved to see Sara there, still waiting for me. More and more I
was becoming dependant upon this beautiful girl who, it seemed, tried her
best to smooth the hard edges of my punishment.
By the time we were seated safely in Sara's car, I felt as if I
twisted and torn; emotionally I had broken from my moorings. Desperately I
grasped Sara's hand, put my head to her breast, and started to cry. I could
smell the scent of her clothes, her perfume, her body, as I closed my eyes,
After a few minutes I gained a semblance of control. "Oh,
Sara, I said
between sniffles, "I can't do this anymore. I simply can't. You can't
imagine how humiliating it was. It's horrible. Maybe I should just run
"It's OK, Pamela. It'll get better." She gently hugged
me as my head
cradled upon her breast. "If you leave now it'll be worse, I'm sure. Amanda
has many incriminating photos of you, and she has your drivers license, so
she knows your home address. Not only will you be imprisoned, but your
family and friends in Iowa will receive all those photos. But then, I don't
know., maybe they will accept the sight of you in lingerie and dresses."
"She would do that?"
"Yes, Pamela, you know she will."
"What can I do, Sara. What?"
"Just relax, Pamela. The nurse told me that, at this very
moment, you have
more female hormones coursing through your bloodsteam than does any real
woman. In one sense, you're now more female than I am. Once the hormones
take hold you'll feel less anxious about being, well., feminine. Then
things will feel better to you."
"You mean that shot the doctor gave my was hormones?"
"Female hormones, Pamela. Now stop crying. Oh, by the way,
mentioned to me that you have sexy legs."
"I suppose that's a compliment, Sara. I don't know. I'm
really confused." I
was silent for awhile as Sara drove back to the hotel. Why, I wondered, did
I cry so easily. Was it the hormones? I felt confined, trapped in my new
"Mistress," I whispered as I wiped my tears with a
tissue Sara had handed
me, "I've fallen very much in love with you." I saw Sara briefly smile, but
she said nothing.
As they did each afternoon, Janet, Kim and Mary met at the
bar for break This day they were joined by Joyce, the receptionist.
"I had no idea," Joyce said as she set her coke onto
the table, "I just
assumed it was just another girl. Then his aunt whispered that Pamela was
"sort of a boy". Well, really! A boy in a short sexy dress. I just tried
not to stare, but Jesus."
"You should have been with me in the exam room," Janet
said. "I tried to be
professional. But when he wiggled out of his panty girdle, and I saw that
small, withered cock, it was too much!"
"So you made the boy prance around the clinic, naked,"
Kim said with a hint
of anger. "He was completely humiliated, Janet, in front of everyone!"
"No, Kim, he wasn't entirely naked. I allowed the boy to
wear his pretty
high heels," Janet laughed.
Mary added, "Serves him right. We women have it bad enough
as it is, what
with the lack of available guys in this city. I don't like the idea of
having to compete against pretty boys in dresses."
C'mon now, dear little girl," Sara said after parking her
car, "I know
you've had a difficult day. But you've got to stop by the office and check
in with Amanda."
Tanya and Amanda were working on the books as we entered.
"Hi, Mandy. Hi
Tanya," Sara said. "Everything went fine."
"Good," replied Amanda. "So, Pamela, you got fitted for your new titties?"
"Yes, Mistress Amanda," I replied. Tanya gave me a
weird look as she left
"Tell me, and be truthful," Amanda asked as we sat in
the lobby, "would you
like real breasts? It won't be that expensive."
"You ask me to be honest, Mistress. No. I am a man, Mistress
maybe I deserve punishment for what I did to Mistress Sara, that's
true. But no, I won't allow my body to be changed. No."
"But Pamela," Amanda countered, trying to sound
reasonable, "after another
week of wearing dresses you'll wish you had breasts. Your clothes will fit
better, and you'll feel more., complete."
"No, Mistress, no.."
"OK, Pamela, I anticipated such an initial reaction. It's your choice."
"Thank you, Mistress," I replied, greatly relieved.
"You're welcome, young lady. Tonight., no - all weekend -
you won't be
allowed to wear a bra. Maybe on Monday you'll see things differently."
"Sara," she continued, ""I've printed out
your and Pamela's instructions
for the weekend. I demand they be followed religiously. If Pamela resists,
or does not follow my instructions, even for two minutes, then I want you
to contact the police immediately and report the rape. If not, you're
fired, Sara. Now please take her to her room."
Sara took the two pages of instructions and we left. I was proud
finally stood up to Amanda, however meekly. Once outside Sara grabbed my
hand and yanked me towards my room. "Pamela, damn it anyhow, now you've got
me in trouble again. If I lose my job, I also lose my home. This is
serious. You must follow Amanda's instructions. Understand?"
"Yes, Mistress, I'm sorry. I've caused you enough trouble
I? I'll follow her stupid rules. After all, nothing could be worse than
what I went through this afternoon!"
Sara and I entered my room. Thee boxes had been set upon the
labeled "Friday". One "Saturday", and one "Sunday". Sara sat down in the
chair at my makeup desk as I sat upon the edge of my bed. I felt
drained. She scanned Sara's instructions, then turned to me. She looked
"What is it, Mistress," I asked.
"Amanda., I'm sorry, Pamela, but I don't quite know how to
say this. Amanda
would like you to "experience" a real girlhood. That way, she says, you'll
better appreciate her offer of real female breasts. She says, "Girls
anticipate puberty. Pamela should be allowed to experience and enjoy the
"I don't understand, Mistress," I said, perplexed.
"Bottom line, Pamela, is that tonight you will dress and act
like a baby
girl. If and only if you accomplish that with perfection, then you'll be
allowed on Saturday to dress and act as a six year old girl. If and only if
you prove successful at that, then on Sunday you'll dress and act as a
pre-pubescent, seventh grade girl."
"Pamela, I cannot get fired because of you. I simply can't."
"Yes, Mistress Sara," I replied softly.
She continued reading Amanda's instructions: "And for the
rest of this
weekend, or longer if you fail at any level, you will refer to Amanda as
"mommy" and to your coworkers as "auntie".
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Hey there, with a little luck and your total cooperation,
this will be
over by Monday," Sara said, trying to cheer me up. "Now don't be so
sad. Shower and dress in whatever's in the "Friday" box. I'll be back in
Sara deftly applied a touch of blush onto my cheeks. I lay upon a
blanket set upon the floor at the far end of the lobby, directly in front
of the television. I wore pink booties, a pink empire style nightgown with
a matching baby's bonnet tied securely under my chin. The skirt of my
nightgown barely extended below my waist, such that the diaper I wore was
visible to all.
"Coochie coo, Baby Pamela," Sara laughed in a sing-song
Amanda's new baby is so special, isn't she, Tanya?" I sucked a pacifier as
Tanya looked down at me.
Two hours must have passed, although time was difficult to judge.
eaten all day and was becoming ill with hunger. Having read Amanda's
instructions, I knew what was required.
"Waa., waa., waaa.," I began to cry. Sara, who had been
tending the front
desk, came over to me, as did Tanya and also Emily, one of the part-time
"Well, what's wrong with the little bitty baby girl,"
Emily said, laughing.
Tanya, with her large Russian eyes, watched silently.
"Emily," said Sara, "maybe baby is hungry. Her
bottle is in the diaper bag.
Would you warm it in the microwave, then feed baby Pamela?"
"Sure," exclaimed Emily, "I love taking care of babies."
Soon I was lying upon my side in fetal position, sucking the warm
the bottle. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself as a man, far away
Another hour must have passed. As was custom on Friday evenings,
gathered in the lobby to pick up their paycheck and to enjoy some wine,
snacks, and girl talk. I had been trying, extremely, to hold it in, but
couldn't. My face flushed as I felt my warm urine flow into my diaper. The
women, who were seated in a semicircle around me, had till now largely
ignored me. But my reddened face and sigh gave away my situation.
"Oh look, everyone," Emily laughed, "baby Pamela
is doing wee-wee. Oh, this
is so much fun having a baby like her here!"
Again, per my instructions, I began to cry.
"Yes indeed, baby Pamela wet her diaper," Amanda said
sternly. Who wants to
change her diaper?" A chorus of "no" filled the room.
Eventually they decided to draw straws, and Mary drew the short
one. Taunted by her coworkers, disgusted with me, she rolled me onto my
back and removed the drenched diaper, then wiped me and powdered my groin
and ass, and carefully put a new diaper onto me. While Mary did this,
Amanda took a number of photos, just as she had been doing all night.
Tanya asked her why she was taking them.
"Well, someday my baby girl will grow into a woman. Someday,
maybe she and
her husband will enjoy looking over her baby pictures."
I felt a sensuous kiss upon my cheek. I could smell the scent of
mixed with baby powder. I opened my eyes to Sara, wearing a low cut blouse,
kneeling down to kiss me as I slept upon the pink blanket.
"Dear Pamela," she said softly, "I went out for
the evening. I didn't
realize you were still on the floor, dear baby." She kissed me again. I
could detect alcohol on her breath. "But it's after midnight now, and Mandy
says you passed your first test. So go to your room now, Pammy. You're now
six years old!" She kissed me once again, a lingering kiss.
"Thank you, Auntie Sara," I said. Sara left, and I
gathered my bottle,
pacifier, and blanket and then went to my room and slept soundly.
"Wake up, girl!" I opened my eyes to daylight.
Kimberly, the high school
girl, stood in the open door to my room. "It's already past nine. I've been
waiting all morning to play with my six year old niece," she giggled. "Your
mommy wants you dressed and in the lobby, right away!" She looked at me,
still wearing my diaper and bonnet, with obvious amusement, then turned and
Apprehensively I entered the lobby. The staff had gathered there
morning coffee. All conversation ceased as I entered. I wore a frilly,
pastel blue party dress. It had short sleeves which puffed out; the bodice
was decorated with lace, but was flat. Not a hint of breasts. The pleated
skirt of my dress flared out over several layers of taffeta . My pink, lacy
rumba panties were not entirely covered by the short skirt. Dainty white
ankle stockings, patent leather shoes, and a tiny pink purse completed my
Taking dainty steps I entered the lobby. I stared down at the
too embarrassed to look anyone in the eye, and approached Amanda. "Mommy,"
I said in the best sing-song little girl voice I could muster, "may I stay
in my room, please?"
"No, silly girl. Sit down and watch TV. Mommy's busy."
"Yes, mommy," I replied.
The women all laughed as I sat down on the floor, cross legged,
cartoons. They talked about how pretty and feminine I was. Then their
discussion shifted to the differences between men and women. I shifted
"I don't know," Mary said in response to Amy's
statement that "little boys"
do make "cute girls". "I was raised in east Texas. Men aren't allowed to
be sissies over there. I never knew even one guy who acted at all
feminine. Even the gays act macho there."
"What? Gay guys in Lufkin? You must be kidding," Amanda
"Not many! But seriously, all the guys are masculine. All of
even the girls in Lufkin are more masculine than that sissy on the floor.
The women laughed, while I continued to focus on Sesame Street,
not to hear.
"Things here in the city are just different," Mary continued.
"Oh Mary. Pamela is just one person. Not all guys in Dallas
"No., it's just that after seeing that., she-she boy over
wearing a little girl's dress., I just don't know. It's just
dispiriting. Now every time I meet a guy I'll have to wonder, is this man
like Pamela? Is this man wearing panties under those jeans? Does he wear
nighties to bed. Is he admiring me because he believes I'm sexy, or is he
simply admiring my skirt or my high heels?"
"Oh Mary, don't be so insecure," said Amanda. "We
may prefer guys act like
guys and not like girls. But it's not a big deal."
The two teens, Kimberly and Emily, bored by the discussion, asked
"mommy" if they could do my hair and makeup.
"Hi auntie Kimberly! Hi auntie Emily," I said as they
"Stand up, baby Pammy," said Emily, "and show us
your pretty dress!" I
meekly stood. Emily had me turn around while she inspected my outfit. I
could hear the taffeta of my slip rustle. "Oh, Pammy, you are such a sweet
girl," Emily gushed. "Tell auntie, don't you just love your party dress?"
"Yes, auntie, I do. I think it's very pretty," I
replied, well aware that
Amanda was likely monitoring my performance.
"Tell us, Pammy, are you a pretty little girl?"
"Yes, aunty Emily and auntie Kimberly," I replied,
blushing, "I'm a pretty
girl, wearing a pretty dress." Kimberly just laughed.
"Indeed you are," said Emily, "but we are going to
put real makeup on you,
just like big girls wear. Won't that be fun!"
"Yes, auntie Emily."
While Kimberly retrieved her purse, where she kept lipstick and
Emily had me practice curtsies. Emily then had me sit upon the carpeted
floor, and while she knelt at my left and styled my hair, Kimberly knelt at
my right and applied lipstick.
Soon I had pigtails, tied with pink ribbons, and bright pink
adorned my lips. Sara remained unusually silent. Didn't she have feelings
for me? Wasn't she hurt to see the girls humiliate me? Eventually the staff
drifted back to their tasks, leaving me alone, a little girl watching
At lunch, Sara tied a pink bib on me. "Pamela, your mommy
says you must
wear this. She wants your dress to stay clean." As I sat at the table, I
could smell the coffee which the women were enjoying. Oh, what I would have
done for a cup of coffee. But that was impossible, as I was just a six year
"It is very much unusual, is it not, all this," I
overhead Tanya ask in her
"What's unusual, Tanya," said Sara.
"This Pamela. A young man be a little girl. In my land men
powerful. They control. Women, we do most work and we raise
children. Always weary at end of day. Our men drink and go to discos, and
hit women who ask for their help. So why would he (Tanya looked at me,
seated demurely) wish to be woman? I do not yet understand America well at
all. It is often confused."
"I understand you, Tanya," said Sara. "Mexican
men, including those here in
the U.S., are a lot like men in your country. Mexican men think they are
total masters of the universe."
"So why then does Pamela act like a girl?"
"Hard to say," Amanda said. "Men think they are so
muscular, so tough.
Always ready to fight. Ever eager to fuck. Yet look at that "man" sitting
there." I looked down and nibbled my cookie, as if I were unaware she was
referring to me. "Dressed like a little girl, ribbons in his hair, wearing
pink lipstick. Ha! Maybe that macho image men project is just pure
bullshit. Maybe all men are like Pamela, just better at hiding their
yearnings. Yes, ladies, we females are the supersex. I suspect Pamela has
simply realized that fact, and succumbed to it."
"So, if you can't beat em, then join em," laughed Mary.
"Well, whatever Pamela's reasons are, she better be very
Kerri. "My cousin works at a county jail in Houston. She once told me about
a "tranny" who was arrested for not paying an outstanding traffic
ticket. The cops stuck him in a holding cell, still wearing his dress and
high heels. The jailers thought it was really funny putting him in with a
bunch of riff-raff. But by morning that poor tranny had been abused,
beaten, and raped, repeatedly. No, it's not a perfect world for sissies
like her, not at all."
"But why didn't the police help," asked Tanya.
"Tanya, don't be načve," Kerri said. "Police
aren't here to help anyone
that's different. Nearly all of them are republican racists. They hate all
poor people. Hell, republicans hate anyone who's not an "upright"
fundamentalist warmonger. In fact, there's a banner in the police
department right here in this town which says "Black, Brown, or Gay? Throw
Them Away!" I've seen it myself, it's posted on the door that leads to the
"Very true, Kerri. With the republicans in control here,
nobody will ever
accuse Texas of having compassionate government," Amanda said, then cruelly
added, "but maybe Pamela would enjoy being jail raped."
Wait, now," Mary resumed, "you all are just making
light of Tanya's
concerns. But it's not just her. I'm also confused by the sissy. Look,
there's a male that's what - 18 years old, at least - and he dresses and
acts like a five year old girl. It's sick!" The women continued to talk
as if I were not there, or rather, as if my feelings mattered not at all. I
tried to pretend like their words didn't matter, but I felt tears forming
in my eyes as I stared down at my plate, unwilling to look at any of them.
"Oh, Mary, Pamela is six years old, not five," Amanda
joked. Kerry and
Kimberly laughed in an attempt to lighten the conversation.
"Look girls," Amanda said earnestly, "since Pam
quit, we have been having
problems here. I've tried to hire a maid, without success. Something's
gotta give. Who here would enjoy cleaning 30 rooms a day in addition to
your regular duties?"
"Yes," Amanda continued after a moment of silence,
"I suppose Pamela is
sick. Mentally screwed up. But she is harmless; her psychologist assured
me of that. And she's working for little more than room and board, plus the
chance to transition to womanhood. The shrink pointed out that it's
impossible to just be born a woman. Girlhood must always precede
womanhood. Maybe this weekend we can help Michael., I mean Pamela, purge
her masculinity and wholly embrace femininity, by allowing her to
symbolically grow into a mature woman."
"I haven't seen much masculinity to purge," said Amy dryly.
"True," Amanda continued, "but if all goes well,
by Monday we'll have a
maid with fewer gender hang-ups. But Mary, you're right, I shouldn't impose
this reeducation task upon my staff without your consent. So, if any of you
are bothered by Pamela's "issues", then she's gone, immediately."
All were silent.
"OK," Amanda concluded, "Pamela stays for now. But
if any of you change
your mind, for any reason whatsoever, she's out of here."
"So will Pamela always be a girl," Amy asked.
"I suppose that's ultimately up to her," said Amanda. "Pamela?"
"Yes mommy," I replied.
"Pamela, do you like being a girl?"
"Yes, mommy, very much so," I lied.
"Would you like to grow up to be a female, like us?"
"Yes mommy, I would."
Amanda, with a smirk, then had me address each of my
"aunties" and thank
them for allowing me to wear such "pretty clothes".
After I finished this, Amanda addressed me again: "Pamela,
would you stand
up so we can see your pigtails and makeup?"
Yes, mommy," I replied. I stood up and turned away so that
they could see
my hair better.
"My, my, such a dainty little girl," Mary said
Emily teaching you how little girls curtsy? Go ahead, sweetie, curtsey for
"Pamela," Amanda said sternly, "you heard auntie
Mary! Now show us how
pretty girls curtsy!"
"Yes mommy," I replied, then gently grasped the hem of
my dress with my
fingers, and bobbed down and up.
"Look everyone," Emily exclaimed, "Pammy curtsies
just like Shirley Temple.
Isn't she sweet!"
"Very nice, Pamela. Now tell us, do you enjoy being a girl," asked Amanda.
"Yes mommy, I do. Very much."
"Well, Pamela, six year old girls don't dirty their panties.
are your panties clean?"
I hesitated, too embarrassed to answer.
"Ah, ha," Mary exclaimed, "the little girl's
silence speaks volumes. Either
she's not wearing panties, or she's dirtied them."
"No., no., I didn't," I protested.
"You baby," Mary scolded.
"Maybe she needs to wear diapers again," Emily laughed.
"Pamela, show your panties to auntie Sara," Amanda commanded.
"But mommy," I cried, frightened of where this was headed.
"Do it young lady, or else!"
I walked towards Sara. She rolled her eyes in an expression of
and disgust. "Auntie Sara," I said in a near-whisper, "will you., will
"OK! OK! Bend over, Pamela."
Sara remained seated as I turned away from her and bent over so
ass, which was covered by pink rumba panties, was nearly at the height of
Sara's breasts. I felt her stretch the backside of my panties. "They don't
look dirty," she pronounced.
"I smell something nasty," Mary said, "what could it possibly be?"
"Seems we need a second opinion here," Amanda said.
"Pamela, remove your
panties and give then to Sara, so that she can inspect them close up."
"Right here? But., Mommy, please!"
"Do it, Pammy. I'm ordering you to remove your panties!"
I looked around the table. All the women were staring at me. Even
ever-bubbly Amy stared silently in disbelief at what I was willing to do.
"Please, mommy," I begged in a little girl's sing-song
voice, hoping maybe
Amanda would reconsider, "please don't make me do that!"
Amanda was silent. She sternly gazed at me. Once again I gave in
demands. Amanda was much stronger than I. No, not physically, but
psychologically. The thought raced through my mind that, even had I not
faced prison time, I would still succumb to her will. But why? Was it the
female hormones, or was it something else, a fundamental weakness in me?
Still facing away from the table, I reached under my skirt and
lowered my panties. Red-faced, I turned to face Sara, then handed my lacy
panties to the woman I desired.
Sara took them from me, holding them between her thumb and index
if they were some type of toxic waste. "They're dry," she pronounced. From
the tone of her voice, it was clear she wasn't enjoying this.
"Very good," Amanda said, "but maybe she's dirtied
her behind. After all,
Mary smells something. Bend down again, Pamela, so Sara can inspect you."
It was futile to protest. I raised my skirt and leaned forward
naked hairless ass shown to the women. I did cup my right hand over my
genitals to maintain a tad of dignity.
"She looks clean," Sara said after a glance at my ass.
"I don't know, Sara. As they say, looks can be deceptive.
Mary may be
right. Here, take this napkin and rub it between my little girl's cheeks."
"No way," Sara said.
"C'mon," said Mary, "After all, I had to change her diaper yesterday."
"Do it Sara. Please," added Amanda.
"Jesus," Sara exclaimed, after which I felt her rubbing
the napkin between
the cheeks of my ass. After a few moments of silence, she said, "Yes,
Amanda, the napkin has a brown stain. Pamela is a bit dirty. Just a bit."
"I knew it! My gosh, Pamela. Now you go to your room and
fetch your diaper
bag. Right away!"
"But mommy, please!" I begged Amanda. The stress and
humiliation made tears
fill my eyes.
"Do it, Pamela, or I'll spank you right here in front of
take your panties with you. Tonight you'll have to hand wash them, you
Sara handed me the pink panties and I fled the restaurant.
"You're gonna make him wear diapers again," Amy asked, astonished.
"Yes Amy. I suppose you all think I'm being mean. But
says this is good for her. She asked my to push Pamela to the limit, so
that Pamela will be maked to choose once and for all. Maybe she'll choose
to return to the comfortable life of a male. If she doesn't, then we will
all know how important this is to her."
"Well, that thing is no real male," Mary said.
"I agree. Pamela could never be a real man, could she," added Tanya.
"Probably not," Amanda said with a grin. "Probably not."
"So where on earth does she get those clothes in grown-up
"Well, I know a woman who owns a costume shop in Fort Worth.
Amanda is not the only quirky guy in town," Amanda said with a laugh.
I grabbed the large pink diaper bag from my closet, and quickly
Without panties, I could feel my cock and balls swinging as I walked to the
"Very good, baby daughter," Amanda said as I entered.
"Now ask Auntie Sara
to put a diaper on you."
"But mommy," I pleaded.
"Do it, cry baby!"
Apprehensively I approached beautiful Sara, holding the diaper
bag in front
of my crotch. With my eyes downcast, I said, "Auntie Sara, would you please
put a clean diaper on me?"
"Why do you need a diaper, Pamela? You're six years old!"
"Yes, auntie Sara, but I..., well., I do not keep myself
clean. Mommy says
I'm a nasty baby girl."
Sara's exasperation flared. "No, I will NOT put a diaper on
you. NO! NO!
NO! Now just get away from me! GO AWAY!"
"OK, Sara, calm down, will you," Amanda said. "You
don't have to diaper
her. I will. Unless there are any other volunteers?"
"Oh! We will, we will, giggled Amy and Emily. Please Amanda!"
"OK, go ahead and diaper my daughter."
Enthusiastically the two petite teenagers had me lie down on the
blanket, on my stomach. The lifted the skirt of my party dress so that my
ass was shown. "Naughty little girl," giggled Amy, "you dirtied your
panties and now you must wear diapers again. Well, what do you have to say
for yourself, young lady?"
"I'm sorry, auntie Amy, very sorry. But please don't make
me to wear
diapers! Please don't!"
"Your mommy says you must," Emily said, giggling. I
felt baby powder
sprinkled on my ass. Emily playfully slapped my cheeks a few times to
spread the powder. "Now turn onto your back, Baby Pamela." I did as told,
but covered my eyes with my hands.
"Gosh, Amy," Emily said with mock surprise, "look
at baby Pamela's little
treasure. It's so cute!" Amy sprinkled more powder onto me and onto my
exposed, shrunken genitals. Then the two girls, one on each side, fastened
the diaper on with safety pins. "All done. Now stand up, baby Pamela, and
show us your baby diaper!"
Humiliated, I stood up. The bulky diaper pushed out the hem of my
dress, and thus was partly visible at all times.
"Here, young lady," Mary said to me, "since you
act like a baby, you can
have your baby bottle back." Mary handed the bottle, filled with warm milk,
to me. I took the bottle and looked to Amanda for guidance.
"Go ahead, daughter," Amanda said, "and be sure to thank all your aunties."
Thank you, auntie Amy and auntie Emily, for putting the diaper on
said to them as Emily grinned maliciously. Then I went to Mary and said
"Thank you, auntie Mary, for my bottle."
"Now little girl," Mary said mockingly, "try not
to dirty your diaper like
you did yesterday. Maybe we'll have to ask Emily and Amy to potty train
you. Would you like that?"
"No, auntie Mary! I promise not to be naughty!"
"Well, if you do," said Mary, "I'll take you to
the park where all little
girls your age play, and we'll let them see your diaper. Do you understand,
"Yes, auntie. I promise to be good. Please don't make me go
dressed like this, please don't.." I groveled before Mary, whom everybody
knew despised me, praying that Amanda would not make me to go out in
public in a dress and diaper.
"Why Mary, that's such a nice offer," Amanda said.
"We'll see how my
daughter does. Maybe Pamela can go with you and show off her diaper. But,
let's all get back to work now. Pamela, sit on your blanket and finish your
bottle like a good baby girl."
"Yes mommy," I replied, then sat down cross-legged in
front of the
television and sucked warm milk from my bottle.
Later in the day Emily and Amy, both off work by then, stopped by
several of their schoolmates. "Look everyone," Emily said to her friends,
"this is baby Pamela, my six year old niece!"
"Hi auntie Emily! Hi auntie Amy!" I used the most
girlish voice I could
muster. The group of teenage girls had me stand up as they oohed and ahhed
over my cute party dress. Amy even brought me a doll, a baby girl doll, to
play with. She said it was her kid sister's, who had outgrown it. "Now you
can play mommy, little girl," said one of Emily's friends, a tall redhead
with clear skin and flawless makeup.
After a half hour of mocking me and watching me as I played with
doll, the girls tired of the situation. "Let's go find some guys," Emily
said to the others.
"Good idea," replied the redhead. "Let's find some
real guys, guys that
don't wear pastel party dresses and diapers."
Before leaving, several of the girls hugged me and said goodbye.
Sunday's attire was much better: a simple red shift, sleeveless,
just above my knees. A white, long sleeve blouse, very frilly; white knee
high stockings, and the same black patent leather shoes I had worn with
yesterday's outfit. But my dress was clearly a girl's dress, as there was
no looseness in the chest area. No titties on me today, I realized as I
Again I was required to stay in the lobby where "mommy"
and "auntie Sara"
could watch over me. Amy brought her Barbi doll collection for me to play
with. "I used to really enjoy this when I was younger," the pretty teenager
said to me. "You'll enjoy it too, Pammy. But let me fill you in on a
secret: Ken has nothing between his legs. Maybe he's a he-she too, kinda
"Thank you, auntie," I replied with maked enthusiasm.
until mid-afternoon I stayed in the lobby, where I was required to sit on
the lobby floor and play with Amy's dolls. Amy helped me at this, showing
me how to choose Barbi's outfits and matching accessories. I was also
required to read several magazines Amy had brought in, including
"seventeen" and Cosmo Girl". Amy couldn't stop giggling as she had me take
the quizzes which apparently are a staple in such publications, and which
focus solely upon clothes and boys.
About two in the afternoon my "mommy" sent me to the
restaurant to see
Sara. Feeling foolish, I quietly entered the restaurant carrying my small
red purse in one hand, and a fully dressed Barbi doll in the other. Sara,
Amy and Emily were seated at a table.
"Pammy dear, come sit with us. We must have a girl talk," said Sara.
"Yes, auntie Sara," I said as I gently sat at the
table. I set my purse in
my lap, and the Barbi doll upon the table. The high school girls grinned at
me, while Sara had an air of seriousness.
"Pamela, your mommy asked us to explain to you what it means
to become a
"Yes.," I replied quizzically.
"That's right," Amy added. "Since you're a girl
and of that special age,
you must know certain things."
"I don't understand, auntie Amy, what things?"
"Woman things, Pamela. Female matters!"
"You mean like, makeup? Dresses?"
"No, that's not what Amy means," said Sara. "Look
at you," Sara continued
as she reached over and touched my chest, "you have no breasts. Now look at
me; I have female breasts. Do you understand now?"
"Yes," I replied, embarrassed.
"We'll explain to you a few of the things all girls must
know when they
come of age. For example, women have periods. Amy has generously
volunteered to teach you about your menstrual cycle. Isn't that nice of
"Yes, I suppose so," I said softly.
"And Emily will explain to your how your body will change is
into a woman.
"Yes, auntie," I replied glumly. The idea that I, who
just days ago was a
typical 20 year old male, would be instructed on such topics by girls who
were several years my junior, was almost more than I could comprehend.
"And, young lady, I will cover two difficult subjects: sex
All fertile young girls must understand the consequences of sex."
And so it went. I endured the next two hours with great
the pretty brunette girl with impish impulses, gleefully explained how my
breasts and nipples would develop, my hips and ass would become curved and
sexy, while my lips, too, would become full and sensuous. She used the
Barbi doll to illustrate, removing Barbi's prom dress to show her
tits. Arching her back slightly, she smiled and said, "Yes, Pamela, maybe
someday you'll have a beautiful female body just like mine, and you'll
drive the boys crazy, just like I do!"
Amy giggled ceaselessly while she told me how I would soon began
monthly, and how I should use the various feminine hygiene products to get
me through my periods.
Sara went into great detail about sex, explaining how a man could
impregnate me, and how I could "service" my partner (alas, she assumed a
male partner) without going "all the way". I fidgeted with the Barbi doll,
bit my lower lip and stared at a spot on the floor as Sara explained oral
sex and anal sex, from a female perspective.
"But," I countered to Sara, whom I desired so very
much, "I don't like men,
not in that way. Really, I don't!"
"Oh, Pamela," Sara said knowingly, "that really
doesn't matter. If you look
sexy the men will desire you, and then you must know how to make them
happy. Whether or not you desire them is irrelevant. The world doesn't
revolve around women's pleasure, you know. But believe me, Pammy, giving
pleasure to a man, particularly to your very own man, will make you feel
unbelievably fulfilled. You'll see." The two teens giggled at Sara's
words, directed as they were at me, a male of sorts. I could only hope that
someday Sara might choose to please me, the male me, in just such a manner.
The lesson ended with all of us seated at a table in the empty
The three females discussed the boys in their lives, and how they
"serviced" the boys, even at times when they were most fertile and also
when it was their "time of the month". I noticed Sara casually slip off one
of her high heels and, with her legs crossed, look down to inspect the red
nail polish on her toenails. She did this unconsciously. Sexy feminine
mannerisms came naturally to Sara, while I struggled to fit into even a
generic female mold. As the girls talked, I stared at Sara's naked foot and
imagined myself fondling it, smelling it, licking it.
After I had been instructed in the process and the joys of
becoming a woman
("you are a flower opening up to the morning sun," Amy said), Sara ordered
me to accompany Amy and Emily to the store. She refused to say why. Thus,
still clutching my little red purse and the Barbi doll, I sat in the back
seat of Amy's small car. Emily had taken the front, without even asking me
where I'd like to sit. Anxious as to where I was being taken, I
nonetheless remained silent. After just five or ten minutes Amy pulled into
the parking lot of a large Walgreen's drug store. I prayed they would allow
me to remain in the car.
"Well, come on little girl," Emily commanded after
opening the car door,
"But why, auntie Emily," I said, cowering in the back
seat. "I don't want
to go in there. Not like this. Please, auntie Emily!"
"Pamela. Your mommy said you must," Amy said in an apologetic tone.
"Please, auntie.," I implored, but the girls just
turned away and walked
into the drugstore. Reluctantly I too exited the car and walked towards
Apprehensively I followed the girls into the store. I felt like a
less than a man, for sure, and even less than a woman. Dressed as I was, in
a young girl's red shift, with my hair in pigtails, wearing girl's flats
and knee-high stockings, it was clear I was neither man nor woman. Surely I
was too large to pass as a young girl, and I was too flat to be a woman,
which meant any casual observer could likely easily deduce my true sex. I
realized that my situation was now much worse than during my previous
shopping trip with Sara, for then I was a man acting as a somewhat passable
woman. Now I was a man posing as a young girl, which was worse than just
Once inside, Emily said to me "Go find your tampons, Pammy,"
then she and
Amy went to the counter and greeted another girl. I stood frozen for a few
moments before I scurried over to an aisle labeled "feminine products".
"Tammy," Emily said to her friend who worked as a
cashier in the store,
"you won't believe this! See that person walking down that aisle?"
"Yeah," Tammy replied, "you mean that girl in the
red dress? What about
her?" Tammy was a petite brunette, her hair cut short and styled.
"It's not a her, Tammy, it's a pansy guy in a girl's dress.
Can you believe
it? A guy dressed like a ten year old girl!"
"Is she a friend of yours?"
"No way," Emily said. "He works with us, and our
boss paid us to take him
here. The boss feels sorry for him."
"It's really weird," Amy added soberly.
"So what's he doing here," Tammy asked.
"Get this. He's here to buy tampons. For himself!" Emily said.
"Yes, it's true," Amy said. "He's got this flaky
idea that he needs to have
his first period so that he'll feel more like a woman or something. It's
really kinda sad."
"I've got to see this for myself," Tammy laughed.
Before me was an entire aisle devoted to "personal feminine
hygiene". I had
little clue of what I was supposed to purchase. Suddenly I felt a touch
upon my shoulder, startling me. In my confusion I hadn't heard anyone
"Hi, miss," said a girl's voice, "May I help
you?" I turned to see the girl
who had been behind the counter. Her name tag said "Tammy".
"No., yes., well maybe.," I stammered, red faced, as
the brunette's eyes
studied me closely. "I need tampons."
"Oh? Tampons., are these for your mother?"
"No., not really. They're for me.."
"Oh. I'm sorry, " Tammy said, "I didn't realize.
You don't look, you know.,
developed enough to need tampons. So, you're menstruating," she asked as
she reached for a blue box from the shelf and handed them to me.
"Well., no, not really..."
"You mean this will be your first period? You're growing up
"Yes, I suppose so," I said as I took the box of Tampax
tampons she handed
"Here," she continued, "you should also purchase
these." Tammy handed me a
larger box labeled Kotex. "And do you understand how to use these, miss?"
Tammy seemed pleasant. Her voice wasn't mocking or sarcastic. Maybe she
simply thought I was a young girl, just large for my age. I couldn't tell.
"No, but thank you. I believe I understand how they
work," I replied
I followed Tammy to the front counter. Only then did I realize I
money. Amy was nowhere in sight. I approached Emily, who was busy
conversing with another young girl who had just entered the store. With
trepidation I approached her to borrow some money.
"Sure thing, Pammy dear," she replied in a voice so
loud that everyone in
the front of the store could hear. "After all, sissy boys do need their
tampons, don't they, Pamela? And look! Kotex napkins, too. Why, our little
boy is all ready for his first period now, isn't she?" All eyes turned
towards me as my face blushed beet red. But I realized there was nothing I
could do but accept Emily's abuse.
"Thank you, Miss Emily," I said as she handed me a ten
dollar bill. Tammy
rung up my purchase, smiling at me. As I picked up the items to leave,
Tammy said, "Thank you very much, miss. Please come back the next time you
"Don't worry, Tammy," Emily said, rolling her eyes,
"I'm sure the sissy boy
will be back once a month!" Emily quickly walked out as I hurried along
after her, clutching my purse and the bag containing my tampons and
Amy was waiting in the car. She apologized to me, an act of
touched me deeply, saying she couldn't stay inside to witness such a
pathetic scene. She appeared to be miffed with Emily.
"Hey, don't get snotty with me," Emily said as the car
pulled into the
street. "You're not siding with the sissy, are you?"
"Emily, don't! Amanda said we must treat him like a female."
"Well, Amy, Pamela may not be a man, but he's not female,
stated with finality, "He's just a sissy-boy pantywaist." When we arrived
at the motel I quickly retreated to my room and collapsed on the bed. I was
unable to control my emotions. Was it because of the female hormones? I
began to weep.
Sara and Amanda entered. Sara sat onto the bed, her body touching
mine as I
lay, still crying.
"Pamela," said Amanda.
"Yes, mommy," I replied.
"We all thought you made a beautiful baby girl. Really.
Would you like to
remain a baby girl, Pamela? I can arrange it for you." Amanda said as Sara
gently caressed my neck and shoulders.
"No, please no."
"Well, would you like to be a little girl? You look very
pretty in a party
"No, please mommy, no."
"Then would you prefer to be a pre-teen, as you are now.
That way, you
could still help us around the motel, and also play with your dolls and
"No, mommy, I don't want that either."
"Well, Pamela, tell me," Amanda said sternly, "just what do you want?"
"Please, mommy, could I go back to, you know, being a., woman?"
"Explain yourself. What exactly are you asking?"
"Please, mistress, allow me to return to being a woman
again, like I was
until this weekend. Please don't make me to be a little girl. It's too
humiliating. You can't imagine! Even prison would be better." I broke down
crying again, as Sara comforted me, softly telling me not to cry, that
things would be OK.
"Stop your crying, sissy," Amanda shouted, "or
I'll call the police right
now. So tell me, Pamela, why do you want to be a woman?"
"Please," I said through my sobs, "If I can have
breasts, female breasts,
and can dress like a grown woman, people maybe won't ridicule me. Maybe I
can fit in. I'll try so hard to fit in as a female. And I'll work for you
as a maid. I promise. Please."
"What do you think, Sara? Should the little girl be allowed to grow up?"
"I think so, Mandy. I realize what Michael did was wrong,
even evil. But
still, to make a young man wear a little girl's party dress and play with
dolls, in full view of everyone., well, I can just imagine what Pamela's
going through. Then to have his diaper changed by two teenaged girls, right
in front of all of us, well, if Pamela were a real man, he'd probably kill
himself rather than do such things. Yes, Mandy, let him try to be a young
lady again. I'll help her adjust to womanhood. She can work as a maid -
she's a good maid, you know - and maybe in a month or two she'll have been
punished enough and can be allowed to leave as a man. Or as a woman."
"OK," Amanda said after a few moments of thought,
"starting tomorrow you
are a woman again. So act like a woman, or else!" Amanda left the room.
I remained silent, still lying on the bed with Sara sitting
beside me. I
was ashamed of my weakness. What did beautiful Sara think of me now? How
could she ever consider me a man? How could she love me?
"Now, now, Pamela," Sara said softly as she ran her
fingers gently through
my hair, "relax a bit. This weekend has stressed you out. Things will be
better, you'll see. You may come to enjoy being a woman. Now get some
sleep, girl, you've got to work tomorrow."
And things did get better, to some extent. I awoke the next
realized I was, once again, a young woman. Not a baby or a young
girl. After I showered I carefully selected a white, lacy underwire bra
from my collection and skillfully put it on. I noticed my hands tremble
slightly as I removed my silicone breast forms from their box and slipped
them into the cups of my bra . I felt a rush of relief to have tits once
again. My weekend ordeal past, I studied my reflection in the mirror,
particularly my side profile, admiring the very breasts I had despised
before the past weekend. I put my legs together and tucked my penis down
and under, making it appear I had a real vagina. I truly reveled in my
reflection. I was proud of my feminine appearance. Yes, I realized Amanda's
punishment had affected me deeply; now I was joyful at being allowed to
wear women's clothing.
I slipped back into my routine: being the motel's only maid kept
all day, sometimes into the evening. Other tasks were gradually assigned to
me, such as washing linen and cleaning the restaurant. Then one other task
was added to my daily schedule: each day I was required to walk to Amanda's
house and clean it thoroughly, and also wash Amanda's and Sara's clothes. I
was ordered to very gently hand wash their lingerie and pantyhose. It was
degrading, to be sure, but I found myself oddly excited as I handled Sara's
I also noticed that the other workers tended to accept me now, no
gawking at me or whispering amongst themselves as I passed. No, now they
more or less treated me like, well., a maid. Occasionally I was even
invited to join them at breaks, during which the discussion would generally
focus on typical female concerns: guys, relationships, kids, and
clothes. It was almost as if they were nearly oblivious to the fact that a
penis lurked within my panties. And I became more comfortable with the
lowly status of my new life, even as I became ever more enamored with
Each morning I was required to report to the office and take
as the manager (usually Amanda) watched. I didn't ask what they
were. Amanda said they were vitamins, but I suspect they were female
hormones. I didn't really want to know, so I didn't press the question. I
was also required to take voice lessons twice each day, during which I
studied and mimicked the way women talked. Since I only interacted with
females now, I had many role models to mimic.
Several uneventful weeks passed. Then, one Friday afternoon at
the entire staff gathered, as was tradition, to receive their paychecks and
to gossip, Amanda ordered me to join them. Maybe, I hoped, Amanda had a
paycheck for me, too. Were I able to get some money saved up, it might be
possible to change my situation.
The all female staff and I were enjoying coffee and cookies as we
to Kimberly describe the cheerleading she would perform at tonight's high
school football game, when Amanda entered the restaurant with the paychecks
and what appeared to be a photo album. Each worker received a paycheck, and
then Amanda addressed me. "Pamela, while I don't have a paycheck for you,
since you're still paying off the money I spent on your pretty clothes, I
do have something special, something you will cherish. C'mon girls, gather
round! Pamela will surely like to show you her photos."
""I don't understand, mistress, what photos," I asked.
"Your photos, Pamela, and may I say they are very
lovely!" She set the
album on the table in front of where I sat. The photo album had a cover
title: "Patient file: Pamela Garcia". All my coworkers watched as,
instructed by Amanda, I opened to the first page.
I was horrified! My face turned beet red. There before me in
plain view for
all to see was a large, full-color, glossy photograph of me, standing with
arms at my side, wearing nothing save for maroon high heels. It was a photo
taken in the doctor's office.
There was a long, awkward silence as I and the entire staff
stared at the
photo of a hairless male standing modestly, his penis and balls hanging,
but looking oh so odd against the smooth body with painted nails. My makeup
was clearly visible in the photo.
The next page had another glossy photo of me, this time in a
pose, with hands clasped behind my head and back arched, which made my flat
chest and penis even more noticeable then in the previous photo.
"My, our little maid does look cute, doesn't she,"
Amanda said, "although
unfortunately she's a bit flat for a girl."
"Too flat for a girl; too small for a man," Emily added
women laughed as Amanda turned the page.
There I was again. At least it looked like me. These were the
as were on the previous page, except that in these photos I had female
breasts. Perky, young breasts fitting for a young lady. Also my hips were
wider, fuller. Yet my revealed penis remained as before, visible, but now
looking even more out of place. "Cup Size B" was noted beneath the photos.
Wow, Pamela, you really look feminine now," Ashley said with
awe, "is it
"Let's just say it's Pamela as she desires to be,"
Amanda said. "Or maybe
this is Pamela's great desire," she added as she turned the page again.
This photo was even more amazing. Again I stood naked, arms at my
now I possessed large breasts which hung heavily. These were not perky
breasts at all; no, I had the breasts of a full-figured woman. My hips,
too, were larger. I resembled those Aztec fertility figurines of ages
past. These photos were noted "Cup Size D".
"Wow, Pamela, you're a real woman in these photos," Sara exclaimed.
"Except for that tiny thing between your legs," added Emily.
"If you choose those tits, Pamela, you'll never be able to
Amanda said in a mocking voice.
And so it went. There must have been 40 photos in all. Some were
shots, titties and penis both showing clearly. One was a rear shot, showing
me with an enlarged female ass but with my nuts and cock still visibly
dangling. In some I posed demurely; in others I posed seductively. I was
utterly humiliated as Amanda slowly turned the pages. After their initial
shock the women started to add comments like "nice buns, girl" and "the
guys will really like feeling those tits" and "what's on the next page, a
As the photos were shown and comments made, I sat silently,
proclaim my masculinity and far too ashamed to tout my obvious femininity.
"Pamela," Amanda said after the final photo was shown,
"I'm so happy to see
that you are seriously considering enhancing your female attributes. Just
think, one day you'll be able to feel your breasts jiggle as you mince
through the mall, searching for the perfect bra. But for now, let's leave
your photo album here in the restaurant so us girls can browse through it
when we wish.
"Yes," added Amy, "I'd like to show my boyfriend your photos."
"Why," Emily asked, "you think he would like to buy some titties, too?"
"Shut up, Emily! My boyfriend is a real man. He's not a
sissy. He's not at
all like Pamela."
"Enough, girls, no fighting," Amanda interrupted.
"Let's all get back to
Everyone left the restaurant except for me. Alone, I opened the
stared at a photograph. I couldn't deny it., these photos were erotic. As a
man, I would definitely be turned on by them. Yes, I realized with sadness,
no more was I a sexually attractive male, but rather, at least in these
photos, I had become sexually attractive to males. I slowly rose from my
chair, straightened my skirt, and resumed my work as a female motel maid.
Later, as I was cleaning the restaurant, Sara informed me that
asked her to take me out tonight to have a little fun. "But mistress," I
protested to her, "I can't go out. Not dressed like this!"
"Silly," Sara giggled, " of course you can't go
out dressed like that.
You've got to get something pretty on. How about that short red dress we
bought at Mervyns? Clean up, dress and meet me at the house at
eight. Remember, Amanda has ordered it. Besides, Pamela, maybe you'll enjoy
After I finished cleaning, I took the restaurant keys to the
Heather, a part-time employee, was there reading a magazine. Heather was a
single mom, maybe 30 years old, with sandy brown hair and full figured, but
not quite fat. Because she worked only sporadically, I hadn't actually met
"Here are the restaurant keys, mistress," I said as I
set them on the
"Thanks, sweetheart. I'm Heather. Now introduce
yourself." I had hoped to
get back to my room and relax, and was not eager to meet Heather.
"I'm Pamela, Mistress Heather. The new maid."
"Pamela, is it? Nice to meet you. How old are you, Pamela?"
"Twenty years old. Odd, the last time I worked here, I could
swear you were
just a little baby girl. In fact, you wore diapers and was sucking a
pacifier like a slutty twenty year old might suck a guys dick."
I turned red. "Yes., that was me, Mistress."
"So, young lady, now that you are twenty years old, how do
you use that
great skill of yours?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't understand."
"Oh don't play shy or stupid. Do you suck dicks?"
"No! No mistress, I don't."
"You don't? Well, then I guess you satisfy your young men..,
how? Not that
I can't guess."
"But I don't satisfy any men. I don't like men," I said
upset by Heather's insinuations.
"Go into the office, Pamela," she said, pointing to the Amanda's office.
"I believe, Pamela, you are instructed to address me
properly and to also
follow my instructions. Isn't that correct, young lady?"
"Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry," I said, resigned to my strange fate.
"Indeed it is right. Amanda made your status very clear to
all of us. Now
move it." Heather followed me into the small office.
"Take off your dress, Pamela."
My hands shook as I reached to my back and undid the buttons,
then let the
dress fall to the floor, stepped over it, then reached down to pick it up.
"Now your slip. Remove it!" I did as Heather ordered,
leaving me wearing
only my bra, panties, pantyhose and shoes.
"Everything else, girl."
"But Mistress Heather, I must meet Sara soon."
"Sara, Sara, Sara. Seems our little girl has a gleam in her
eye for the
Mexican beauty. OK, you may leave your bra on - I know you'd be lost
without your titties - but everything else comes off."
I carefully removed my pantyhose, taking care not to run them,
my pink panties. I stood before Heather while she looked me over as if I
were a horse she were purchasing. "So, the truth at last! You know, sissy,
I looked through your photo shots, and decided I just had to see you for
myself. You are a disgrace to men, you know." Heather reached over and
fondled my cock and balls, which responded.
"So," she exclaimed, "sissy maid does respond to a
touch. Maybe you're not all girl yet, sweetheart. Unfortunately, you're not
very big down there, are you," she said while continuing to fondle me, "but
considering the packaging, it's more than I expected. Now put your panties
back on, young lady, and get out of here. Maybe some night I'll come by
your room." She winked at me and left the room.
Back in my room I quickly stripped out of my clothes yet again,
to shave my entire body, apply lotion, reapply nail polish, and then sat
down and began applying makeup. Screw everyone, I thought to myself,
tonight it'll be just Sara and me. Sara knows I'm a man, a real man. After
all, I mused, the reason for my current predicament is that I maked my
manliness upon her. And Sara seemed to truly like me. More than anyone,
Sara could see through my feminine faáade. Sara, I realized, was the last
remaining link to my waning masculinity.
Even as I very carefully used a pencil to highlight my eyes, then
Mascara on my naturally long lashes, I thought of how maybe, after our
date, I would gently make love to the beautiful Hispanic girl. I selected
matching rose-colored bra and panties, and donned a brand new pair of ultra
sheer pantyhose. Next came the slinky red dress which Sara had asked me to
wear on our date. After checking the mirror (Foxy Lady!, I said to myself),
I maked my feet into a pair of open toed shoes with one inch heels,
grabbed my purse, and left for Amanda's house. It was 7:45 p.m. on a
"Hi, Pammy dear," Sara said happily as she opened the
front door, "come on
in and have a seat. I'm almost ready." She wore a lacy white bra with small
pink flowers embroidered on it, a short white half slip with lace hem, and
pantyhose. I sat on the couch and tried to focus on the television show,
while Sara went to her room to finish dressing. But I was too nervous. This
was all so very weird, I thought: I'm so excited I feel like a junior high
boy on his first date. I felt as if the clothes I wore simply didn't
matter; if Sara wanted me to be pretty, well then I would be as pretty as I
possibly could be. All I knew was that I was infatuated with Sara.
Utterly! Yes it was odd that she would like me like this, dressed as a
chick, but she did like me! Probably Sara preferred I not wear a
dress. But, I reasoned, if Amanda ordered that I wear a dress, then Sara
would accept me in a dress.
After about ten minutes Sara entered the room, looking stunningly
beautiful. Her dark hair fell gently upon a yellow blouse. She wore short
pink culottes and pink high heels. Because her heels were much higher than
mine, she was now as tall or taller than I. Her makeup was flawless. "Stand
up, Pamela, and let me see how you look," Sara said.
"Yes, very nice indeed," She said as she walked a
circle around me, "but
let me touch up your makeup a bit. You are getting much better at it, you
know," she said as she applied a touch of blusher, then used a small
lipstick brush to carefully outline my lips, "but it takes a lot of
practice to master the finer techniques. But don't worry, Pamela, you do
make a fine young lady."
"Thank you, mistress," I replied with real pride,
"I tried to look my very
best for you."
And you succeeded," she said laughing. "Now grab your
purse and lets go out
for a real fling!"
"Mistress Sara," I said hopefully as we drove south
towards the city, "I
could take you to a movie, or to dinner. That is, if you would like to.."
"Why thank you, Pamela," Sara answered sincerely,
"maybe some other night
we could do that. But tonight we're going to Deep Ellum. There's a singles
club there. We're going to meet a friend of mine there. You'll like
it. Don't worry."
"Please, Pamela, drop the "Mistress" for tonight.
It gives me the creeps.
After all, you're an anglo male, well, sort of male, and I'm a Mexican
girl. You shouldn't address me as if I were your queen, should you?"
"No, probably not, but Amanda requires."
"Look around, Pamela. No Amanda in sight! Get it?"
Sara just sighed as she pulled her car into a crowded parking
the street was a warehouse which had been converted into a nightclub. Large
neon signs flickered. Young twenty-somethings were milling around.
"Now remember," Sara said as she held my hand and led
me towards the club,
"act like a girl. This isn't a gay bar. You could get seriously hurt if the
guys here realize you're not female."
"Well, then let's not go in," I said, frightened.
"Don't be scared, silly girl. Just be yourself. You've worn
skirts now for
more than a month. Plus you're taking all those female hormones. Come on,
after a drink you'll calm down."
It was dark and crowded inside. A band was playing jazzy
variations of 80's
pop music. I followed Sara to a small table. She ordered two bloody Marys,
then left for the ladies room. As I sat sipping my drink, I felt that
everyone was staring at me, questioning my sex, although in fact I was
ignored by everyone. After all, the night was young and I was not, by any
means, pretty. I continued sipping my drink, apprehensively.
I was on my second drink when at last Sara returned, accompanied
young Hispanic girl. She was shorter than Sara, at about 5 foot 2, and had
a full bosom, narrow waist, and very curvy hips. She was pretty, although
not as pretty as Sara. Her skirt was very short, so short that I feared her
panties would show were to bend down even slightly.
"Pamela, meet my friend Josie," said Sara. Josie bent
down and lightly
kissed my cheek, then sat in the chair next to me.
"Pamela! Why you really are pretty," Josie exclaimed.
"You anglo boys make
the cutest girls!" Then Sara and Josie resumed their conversation, ignoring
me. From what I could overhear, it was clear Josie was mostly interested
in guys, and to her, I wasn't really a guy at all. Sara, too, talked mostly
of guys, but not of me. As I started on my third bloody Mary, I realized
that the evening was not progressing as I had hoped.
Later, while Josie was talking on hell cell phone, I caught
attention. "Sara," I whispered, "I need to use the rest room."
"OK," she said.
"But Sara, you don't understand. I need to go really bad."
"Well how can I go to the bathroom now," I said with a
"Just go, Pamela. I won't just up and leave you if you leave
the table for
a few minutes, silly."
"No, Sara," I said, my whisper getting ever louder,
"I mean, I'm dressed
like a girl. I can't use the men's room."
Sara laughed. "Oh, I get it. Jesus, Pamela, just use the
Didn't I tell you to act like a girl? So act like one." Josie finished her
phone conversation and began relaying the latest to Sara. Ignored again by
the two young ladies, I got up and slowly wended my way towards the ladies
room. The club was crowded, and I was a bit wobbly from the alcohol.
Upon entering the ladies room, I realized I had now transgressed
dangerously to the other side. While I had used, and cleaned, the women's
rest rooms at the Paradise View, that was different as I was always alone
in them. Not so tonight. There were several girls in line waiting for a
free stall. I took my place in line, and looked around the forbidden
territory. There were large mirrors behind each sink, and full length
mirrors near the exit. Young ladies were studying their faces in the
mirrors, touching up their lipstick or powdering their faces. Suddenly I
felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a girl with orange
and blue hair styled in a page- boy cut. She wore a t-shirt and jean
skirt. "Hi," she said, "would you have a spare tampon? I left mine at home,
and the dispensing machine is empty."
"Ah.., yes, I believe I do," I said as I fumbled
through my purse. Sara had
instructed me to always carry a couple of tampons in my purse, saying
"you're a girl now, you might begin to bleed at any time." Now I realized
that Sara was not making fun of me, but was looking ahead at my future
safety. My hands trembled as I took the slender item from my purse and
handed it to the girl.
"Thank you," she said in what I though was an odd way.
I noticed she was
scrutinizing my face. Had she realized my secret? Luckily a stall was
vacated, so I quickly slipped into it, closed the door, carefully pulled
down my pantyhose and panties, raised the skirt of my dress and sat down to
pee, girl style. I shuddered a sigh of relief.
"That was John," Josie said as she put the cell phone
back into her purse.
"The guys will be here in a few minutes."
"Great," exclaimed Sara. "Maybe we can dance a
bit, then go to my place.
Amanda is out of town for the weekend."
"But there's one problem, Sara. They're with Roger, and you
know Roger will
want to leave right away if John and Mike pair up with us, unless he hooks
up with a girl, too. I was thinking of introducing Roger to my cousin
Juana, but she's already got a date tonight. Well, let's hope Roger picks
up a barfly here. Otherwise, the guys will surely leave with him. You know
how they stick together on Friday nights."
"Yeah," Sara said in a concerned tone of voice,
"If Roger leaves, it's
adios to John and Mike."
"But.," Sara continued after a thinking for a few
moments, "maybe, just
maybe, Roger and Pamela can hook up. That would solve our problem, Josie."
"Pamela! That's a real laugh, Sara. Pamela's a guy."
"Yes, she is, I suppose," Sara continued, thinking
aloud, "but she looks a
lot like a girl, doesn't she?"
"Si, Pamela es un muy bonita, por el hombre," Josie
laughed. "After all,
that's a real sexy dress he's wearing. But Roger will be trying real hard
to get that dress off of her. What happens when he feels Pamela up, Sara?
Things could get real messy."
"Oh, Josie. Pamela's not stupid. She can say she's on her
something. Most girls don't have sex with a guy on their first night out,
"Es loco, Sara. But Pamela's your friend. Do what you want."
"Pamela's not my friend, Josie. I just work with her."
Does he even like guys? I mean, I know he's wearing a dress and
I've read in Cosmo about straight guys who like to play dress up."
"Well.," Sara paused, then continued, "No, I guess
not. He's not really
gay, Josie. But I really want to spend some time with Mike. Pamela will
play along with this for one night, if I ask her to. Believe me, she'll do
anything I ask. Just don't you mention it to the guys, OK?"
"Not a chance, chica, not a chance! I want no part of this."
I remained in the stall for what seemed to be a long time, as I
anxious to be seen leaving the ladies room, and I worried that the girl I
had given my tampon to would be waiting. I just sat in there and
contemplated fate's twists. I was hoping the room might empty so that I
could leave unnoticed. But it just seemed to get busier. I felt like an
eavesdropping lowlife, or a peeping tom. I overheard the women coming and
going, mostly talking about the "three B's": bitches, boyfriends, and
babies. Finally, fearful that Sara might leave without me, I pulled up my
panties and pantyhose, carefully tucking my penis down under, and
exited. To my surprise, nobody paid me any notice.
My heart sunk as I approached our table. Josie and Sara were
nowhere to be
seen. How would I get home? I didn't have cab fare. Then I noticed Sara's
purse sitting on her chair. A guy was at the table; he wore jeans and a
casual shirt, had dark hair, and was at least six inches taller than me and
60 pounds heavier. Fearfully I approached the table. Had the girls told him
about me, and if so, what could I do? I couldn't defend myself in the
clothes I wore.
Luckily he was clueless. Once I sat down he politely introduced
Roger, and in turn I introduced myself as Pamela. He said my friends were
on the dance floor and he was just holding the table for them. After buying
me a drink he continued his banter. I avoided conversation and let him talk
"Hi! I see you two have met," Sara said as she and
Josie and their
boyfriends returned to the table. I was stunned by Sara's attitude, acting
as if everything was perfectly normal. I gave Sara a cold stare, as if to
say "get me out of this!", but she didn't even notice. Josie seemed to be
avoiding my gaze. And so another hour or more passed, Sara in a state of
semi-bliss spent mostly on the dance floor, Josie wholly focused on her
boyfriend, while Roger spent half the time trying to hustle me, and the
other half circulating through the club trying to pick up a girl. I was
hoping Roger would be successful at it, as that would solve my immediate
problem, but alas he wasn't. Meanwhile I unwisely kept drinking.
About eleven p.m., with everyone sitting around the table
Josie's boyfriend describe a recent trip to Mexico, Roger unexpectedly put
his arm around me and pulled me towards him, then kissed me firmly on the
mouth. He held me in that position for at least a full minute. I could hear
the table talk continue as if nothing was happening. Rather than resist,
which would have drawn more attention, I succumbed to his advance and
passively allowed him to continue. After the kiss he announced to Sara,
"It's your turn to watch the table. Pamela and I are going to dance now."
Sara and Josie just watched silently as I was led off to the dance floor.
It was a slow, romantic dance. After the dance, Sara announced it was time
to leave. The guys wandered off to the bar for a final beer, leaving "us
girls" at the table.
"Sara," I pleaded, "I've got to get away from
Roger. He'll kill me if he
finds out about me. Please take me home."
"No way, Pamela. Don't be so scared all the time. Relax and
will you? Roger seems to like you."
"No, Sara. Roger likes a girl named Pamela, but that's not me!"
"Whatever. Josie and I are bringing our boyfriends over to
probably to spend the night. You and Roger can come, too."
"But I can't spend the night with Roger! Don't you get
it!" I was becoming
"Pamela," Josie said, "listen to me. You're right,
you can't spend the
night with Roger without him discovering your little secret. The only sure
way to get rid of him is to, you know, make him happy. Get him off.. Do
that, and he'll calm down and then you'll be able to go home and everyone
will be happy."
"What? I can't do that, Josie! This is all just crazy!"
I looked towards
Sara for help.
"Pamela," Sara said in a very matter-of-fact tone of
voice, "that's what
girls do. Don't be so melodramatic."
I sat in the front seat with Roger on the way to Amanda's house.
her boyfriend were making out in the back seat. Mike had left with Sara in
her car, planning to meet us there after stopping for beer and pizza. I
tried to convey to Roger that I wasn't interested in sex. For example, I
put my knees firmly together, and put my hands on my lap. I also explained
to him that it was "my time of the month". But he was oblivious to both
body language and words.
Roger parked in Amanda's driveway and we all waited in the car
for Sara to
arrive. Roger gently draped his right arm around my shoulder, leaned over,
and began kissing my face and neck. "OK, Pamela," he said after I explained
why I had to leave, "I understand you need to get up early for work, but
c'mon, let's have a little fun before you leave."
"But I'm on my period, Roger. Really!"
"So, there are other ways to have fun, girl," he said
as his hands roamed
towards my breasts and my "pussy". I was horrified. What could I do? If
this kept up much longer, Roger would surely feel my "secret". I looked in
the mirror and saw Josie and John making out; clearly Josie would be of no
help. And Sara was nowhere around. It was only me; I had to be resourceful,
I had to do something, I realized, and very soon. Josie had been right.
In order to stop his wandering hands I began to kiss him, on the
while gently moving his arms to less threatening positions. "Oh, Roger," I
whispered softly, hesitantly, "let me take you, you know., in my mouth. I
can suck you, Roger. It'll feel almost as good." I moved my trembling
hands to his crotch and grasped his zipper, slowly pulling it
down. "Please, Roger. Please."
"Oh yes, yes, that's so nice. You're so nice," he said
as I unsnapped his
jeans. The full moon's glow combined with light from a nearby street lamp
to illuminated everything fairly well. With difficulty I was able to lower
his trousers to his feet. Roger wore no underwear. There it was, erect, a
large male cock, my ultimate disgrace. I noticed the car seemed very
silent; were Josie and John watching us? It didn't matter. I was a girl
now, I told myself; a girl, just as Sara had said.
I had never seen an erect male cock before, other than my own. It
threateningly large when viewed from this angle. I tried to put my mind
into a female mode, which, maybe because of the hormones, wasn't very
difficult. Roger kissed my lips repeatedly and then guided my head down
towards his lap. I shimmied my ass over on the car seat. I was both
repulsed and fascinated. I desired to satisfy Roger. Not because I liked
him, or because I was sexually attractive to him. No, it was different than
that. I simply felt that doing so would complement this feminine role I had
assumed. Satisfying this man, in a female manner, would enhance my female
persona, rather like adding another pair of high heels or a lacy bra to my
wardrobe, but more so.
I began by licking it, like a lollipop. It quivered as my tongue
the head and caressed its underside. Soon Roger's cock was covered with
saliva, my saliva. His male member glistened in the dim light. Then, at
Roger's insistence, I took it into my mouth and sucked it, and sucked it,
and sucked it even more. A couple of times I ceased my sucking and returned
to licking, so as to better catch my breath, only to again return to
sucking. I was amazed at how much of his penis I was able to take into my
"Oh, that's it, girl, that feels right. Good girl! Pamela,
that feels so
very good. More, girl, more, more, more."
Roger's words became ever more emphatic and louder as I continued
service him. Clearly Josie now knew exactly what I was doing. I felt a
surge of humiliation well up within me as I realized what Josie must have
been thinking at that moment.
After what seemed to me a very long time, Roger's entire body
penis became rock hard and it stopped quivering. Instinctively I tried to
move my head away, but Roger's hands were clasped behind it, making
movement impossible. He uttered a long groan and then I could feel his
semen shoot into my throat. I tried desperately not to choke. Then just as
suddenly it was over. His body relaxed. I too relaxed a bit. Roger's erect
member still filled my mouth, but I had managed to swallow most of his cum
and so I was able to breath again. Roger's hands gently patted the back of
"Wow! Watching you two is better than seeing an X rated
movie." It was
Sara's voice. With horror, I realized she had been watching Roger and I
through the passenger side window.
"Hey Sara," Roger responded in an unsettled voice.
"I didn't see you there.
Say, your friend really gives good blow jobs. I think I'm in love with
"Yes., I didn't realize Pamela had such skills," Sara
said as I sat up. She
and her boyfriend stared at me through the open window. My short skirt had
ridden up, fully exposing my panties. My hair was a mess, and drops of
Roger's cum ran down my chin. Tears welled up in my eyes. I had tried to
make myself so pretty tonight, for Sara, for my beautiful Sara. If I were
pretty, I thought she would show her love for me. But instead she watched
as I, wearing the red dress she had selected for me, sucked a man's cock. I
was devastated. I mumbled a few incomprehensible words as I exited Roger's
car. Sara tried to help me freshen up, but after a few moments I left and
quickly walked back to the motel, a purse in one hand and heels in the
"Pamela really took your advice to heart, Josie," Sara
said as she took
plates from the kitchen cabinet. The guys were watching television and
drinking beer in the basement, while the girls heated the pizza.
"Did he ever! Gosh, I never expected that. At least, not
right in front of
"I didn't really mean to watch it, Josie. Mike and I just
happened to walk
up when passion was peaking. We couldn't interrupt, could we? It was kind
of embarrassing to see her like that. Pamela was crying."
"It wasn't rape, Sara. I overheard Pamela beg Roger for his cock to suck."
"Yea, but was that because Pamela wanted to do it, or was it
to keep Roger
from feeling her up and discovering her cock?"
"So what's the difference, Sara? Hell, if he wants to dress
like some hot
little tart, then he can't complain when real men treat him like a slut."
"True, Josie, but it's more complicated then that. You don't
know the whole
story behind Pamela's transformation. It's Amanda's secret. Anyway, I think
Pamela likes me, a lot."
"You mean in a guy way?"
"Yea, in a guy way. That's why I felt so sorry for him
there. I don't think
Pamela wanted me to see that big cock in her mouth, or to see her
swallowing a man's cum. I bet that's why she cried and ran away."
"Sure, Sara. Whatever. Did you ever think, Sara, that if he
wants you to
fall for him, then maybe he should wear pants and tennis shoes instead of a
red dress and high heels? All I know is that those two lovebirds turned
John on so much that now he wants me to suck him, and I refuse to do that.
Totally, exhausted, I entered my room and closed the door. In the
saw a disheveled young lady, her short dress wrinkled and stained, her
makeup smudged. With a feeling of detached disbelief, I only half-realized
that the girl in the mirror was me. Still nearly drunk, I lay down on my
bed and wept as I imagined Sara and her boyfriend at this very moment
making legitimate, consensual, male-female love. Was there any chance for
such love in my future?
"Fuck it, Roger, that was really gross," John said
between swigs from his
beer, "really gross."
"Maybe," Roger laughed, "but it felt sooooo good.
Sara's friend is a true
"Yea, maybe I'll have to try her out some night," John
said. She's not that
cute, and she's too skinny, but her tongue makes up for those problems."
"No you don't," Roger said. "You better stick with
Josie, cause I've got
dibs on that Pamela chick."
I awoke Saturday morning feeling somehow unclean, physically and
spiritually. But what's done is done, I reasoned. My existence, no matter
how humiliating, is better than being slowly ground into madness by the
so-called Texas justice system. I'll just be careful to avoid situations
such as last night's. And Sara? She remains a tantalizing conundrum in
angel's form. One would expect she'd have been totally disgusted by what
she witnessed. But after I had satisfied Roger, it was Sara who, seeing me
crying as I left the car, hugged me so very tenderly, and even helped to
straighten my hair and dress. So what were Sara's feelings towards me? I
had no idea; too many mixed signals. I showered, shaved my body, applied
makeup, donned my maid's uniform and went to work.
It was much later, nearly seven p.m., when Roger entered the
office of the
Paradise View. Kimberly was working at the front desk. Actually, because
the motel had few guests, Kimberly was just sitting in the lobby, watching
television as she applied purple nail polish onto her fingernails.
"Hey," Roger said, "you work here?" He wore
jeans (torn at one knee) and a
Dallas Mavericks t-shirt.
"Yes," Kimberly replied, not even looking up from her
nails, "how can I
"I'm looking for Pamela. She said she works here."
"Yea. Pamela. Skinny girl, light brown hair."
"Oh," Kimberly said, grinning, "Pamela. I know who
you mean., Pamela. Why?
Are you related to her?"
"No, she's just a friend."
"A friend? You mean, like a girlfriend?"
"Yea," Roger said, somewhat taken aback by Kimberly's
insolence, "I suppose
so. Like a girlfriend."
"Oh," Kimberly replied, getting up while blowing upon
her nails, "I didn't
know Pamela had a boyfriend. What's your name, hunk?"
"OK, Roger, follow me and we'll find your girlfriend,"
Kimberly said with a
"Oh, Pamela," Kimberly called out in a sing-song
mocking tone of voice as
she entered the restaurant. I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the
kitchen floor, as Mary was putting away dishes. "Your BOYFRIEND is here to
see you! I didn't know you had such a handsome BOYFRIEND!"
I blushed and quickly rose to my feet, carefully straitening my skirt.
"Hey, girl," Roger said, "sorry to interrupt you.
I was in the neighborhood
and thought I'd stop by and say hi. And see if you wanted to go out again
"Ahhh.," I stammered, caught off guard, "I don't
think so, Roger, I have to
work.." Mary and Kimberly watched me, grinning at my predicament.
"Go ahead, Pamela," Mary said, "you can finish here tomorrow."
"Well,., OK, I guess," I said, not knowing how to get out of this jam.
"Great! I'll pick you up at 8:30," Roger said, then
came over and kissed me
on the mouth, turned and left. I stood there, embarrassed and dumbfounded.
"My, Pamela, aren't you the social butterfly,"
exclaimed Kimberly, giggling
"Attracting guys like flies," Mary added.
With ease I undid the buttons at the back of my dress and let it
the floor. Followed by my white slip. Carefully I removed my pantyhose,
first off my left leg, then my right. I stood and gazed at my reflection in
the large, full-length mirror which Amanda had placed in my room. I saw
what appeared to be a girl wearing only a bra and panties.
I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. It was past 7:30; time
preparing for my "date" with Roger. Clearly things were spinning out of
control. I realized as I gazed at my image that my sexual identity had
flip-flopped. But how? All this seemed to happen far too easily, without
any real resistance on my part. How could a man, a real man, change so
radically during the course of just a couple of months? I wondered, was I
ever a "real man"? Or had I always carried seeds of femininity just beneath
my macho surface? The question haunted me.
Yesterday evening, as I dolled myself up, at least I was able to
was to attract Sara. Sure, I was making myself look like a sexy girl, but I
did it for a very male purpose: to attract and bed Sara.
Tonight I had no such illusion. Tonight, any attempt I made to be
was undeniably for the purpose of attracting a man (Roger), rather than a
beautiful woman (Sara). Reluctantly I set about my task: I showered, shaved
my body, and sat down to apply my makeup. My eyes scanned the small table
cluttered with items only a female would own: many containers of fingernail
polish in various hues of red and pink, blusher, tow bottles of Covergirl
foundation, several Covergirl compacts, several tubes of Maybelline
mascara, eyebrow pencils, small bottles of perfume, hairspray, lip gloss,
lipliner, earrings, bracelets, and even two unopened tampons. Each day I
came to feel more and more normal, almost natural, as I sat down in front
of my mirror to make my face pretty.
After skillfully using a pencil to outline my eyes, I deftly used
brush to paint on lipstick and liner. I wondered where this was all
leading. What if, a year from now, I was still a female maid? Eventually,
turning back into my male self could become even more difficult than
remaining in dresses! I was disgusted by the thought of me being on a date
with a male. Yet I was also anxious, trembling, strangely excited. Why?
The impromptu party had temporarily split along gender lines,
with the guys
in the basement playing pool, drinking beer, and watching an auto race on
television, while upstairs the girls chatted in the living room while
sipping sweet wine, with a romance flick on the television. I was upstairs
with the girls.
My date with Roger had actually transpired much better than I had
I had dressed conservatively in a knee-length pale blue skirt and loose
short-sleeve sweater. He picked me up on time, was polite, even opened the
car door for me, and took me to see a nice movie. He made no unwanted
advances like last night's. And being with Roger had its advantages: for
one thing, we looked like a normal couple. When next to Roger, who was
considerably larger than me, I appeared to be a typical, fairly plain young
lady. In fact, I noticed many of the unattached young women in the lobby
eyeing me with a bit of jealousy. I felt fairly comfortable as a girl; for
the first time in a long time, I was in a place where everyone accepted my
sex without a second thought. Yet I wasn't what they thought I was.
After the movie I asked Roger to take me home, but he insisted,
chauvinistic manner, that we stop by Amanda's house first. He laughed off
my protests, thinking Sara and I were typical friends, and that she would
be happy if we stopped by.
"Why, Roger., and Pamela!" Sara seemed to be very
surprised and a tad
embarrassed as she opened the door to see me standing next to Roger.
"Hi, Sara! Didn't Mike mention that I might stop by?"
"Yes, Roger., I guess he did., I'm just surprised to see you
again," Sara responded as she looked me over carefully.
"Hey, I know a good thing when I see one, Sara," Roger
laughed as he
reached over and patted my ass.
"Well, OK, come in. The guys are downstairs, Roger."
I followed Sara into the kitchen. "I'm sorry,
Mistress," I said once we
were alone, "I tried to get Roger to take me home, but he insisted on
"Well, Pamela, it's too late now. I sure hope you know what
she said with a hint of doubt in her voice, as she led me into the living
room. "Neither Josie nor I have mentioned your "pussy problem", so act
like a girl, please!"
Josie was there, as were several other young women of about my
were pretty. All were casually dressed in jeans or slacks, and wore only
minimal makeup. Only I wore a skirt and pantyhose.
"Everyone, this is Pamela. She works at the hotel. She's
hanging out with
Roger tonight," Sara said to introduce me.
"Pamela!" Josie exclaimed, "You mean you're with Roger again?"
"Yes Josie. Roger insisted I go out with him tonight. I
didn't really have
"Ha! Roger's always making Pamela to do this or that. Well,
I don't buy
it, girl," Josie said in a bitter tone. She had been drinking and appeared
upset. "Say, Pamela," Josie continued, " I've already told everyone here
how you sucked Roger's cock last night. Maybe you'd like to tell them
I blushed as all the girls fidgeted uneasily.
"No? OK then, have a drink. You're not the first GIRL to
suck a guy's cock,
Sara handed me a glass of wine, which I gratefully accepted. I
had no idea
why Josie seemed to be angry with me. Last night she had no problem with
me, so why tonight? The tension dissipated as the girls returned to the
topic they had been discussing before my arrival: Maria's pregnancy, her
physician examinations, how it felt to be carrying a child, and so
on. Oddly, I didn't really feel uneasy with the conversation.
An hour or so later the guys took off to a nearby sports bar,
return in an hour. After they left I saw my opportunity and announced to
the five young ladies that I would be going home.
"Oh, you don't need to go, Pamela," Maria said to me.
"We didn't mean to
embarrass you. Isn't that right, Josie?" Maria was a pretty latino girl
with a heavy Spanish accent. She was about seven months along with her
pregnancy. She gave a pleading look to Josie, clearly trying to be
peacemaker between us.
"Gosh no! Just because Pamela sucks Roger's cock right there
in front of
everyone, which gets John all horny so that he now demands that I suck him,
well, I mean, I shouldn't be angry, should I? Noooo. But maybe I don't
want to suck John. It's all Pamela's fault that John and I are fighting
over this." Clearly Josie was more than tipsy now.
"Josie, that's not very nice," Cathy scolded. Cathy was
a tall, slender
blond girl with deep blue eyes. She wore bright red lipstick.
"What is this? Everone's turning on me because I won't suck
Well, maybe Pamela would like to suck John's cock. Go ahead, Pamela, I
"I'm sorry, Josie, I didn't mean to turn your boyfriend on,
" I said
apologetically. I was sincerely sorry, but unfortunately chose my words
poorly. I looked towards Sara and saw a pained expression on her face as
things spun out of control.
"So, Pamela, you think you turn on John, do you? No way! He
you! He doesn't think you're sexy, even when you wear your short red
"I'm sorry, Josie," I repeated.
"Well, it hurts," Josie said, now with tears in her
eyes. "You turn on my
boyfriend, and you're not even a real girl. How's that supposed to make me
I blushed as I repeatedly told Josie how sorry I was.
"That's right, Cathy," Josie continued, "Pamela's
a boy, not a girl. A boy
who wears dresses, makeup and high heels! A boy who works as a maid!"
"What? Is that so," asked Jerri, a petite brunette
wearing tight jeans
which showed off her figure well. "I thought you acted a bit odd, you
know." Jerri was grinning, ignoring Josie's suffering.
"Ahh., yes, but., really., I can't help it., please don't
tell Roger about
this," I pleaded to the girls. "He could hurt me. And I don't want him to
feel bad. Roger has no idea about., me. He thinks I'm on my period," I
said, my thoughts a jumble of worries.
"Well, Pamela, if you're a guy, you are supposed to be able
to take care of
yourself. Guys do that, don't they? Guys don't hide behind a group of
girls for protection, do they," Jerri asked rhetorically. I glanced towards
Sara, who was staring at the floor, clearly uneasy. I began to wimper; both
Josie and I were crying now.
"Please," I begged, "just don't tell Roger."
"Pamela, I'm not sure I believe you. Why don't you show
us," Cathy asked.
"If you do, I promise not to tell Roger."
"Me, too," added Jerri.
"Show you what," I asked.
"Your penis, stupid," Cathy said, "Or your vagina. Whatever you have."
"Yes, Pamela, yes!"
Sara was still avoiding looking at me. Josie was still pouting.
moved away form us.
"You mean right here?"
"Yes, Pamela," Jerri laughed, "right here. Right
now. Whatever you have,
it's nothing any of us haven't seen before, you know. Quit acting so
innocent and take your clothes off."
"This is fun, kind of like being in a strip club," added Cathy.
"And if I do you won't tell Roger or any of the men?"
"Gosh, Pamela. Roger, Roger, Roger," said Cathy.
"We won't tell anyone. I
promise. But hurry or they'll come back and see for themselves whatever
pretty Pamela has under her skirt."
I saw no other reasonable course of action. I tried to hurry, but
couple of drinks made it difficult to undress. I fumbled with the buttons
on my blouse, and as always, I had difficulty removing my pantyhose. The
girls watched me wide-eyed, except Sara and Maria, who had slipped into the
"Look, painted toenails," Cathy exclaimed jokingly,
"now that's what I like
to see on a guy!"
"Hurry girl," Jerri said. "If the guys catch you
half-dressed, you might
just have six cocks to suck instead of one."
"Yea," Josie added petulantly, "I bet Pamela would really like that."
Soon I was naked except for my matching, rose colored bra and
I stop now," I asked Cathy, thinking the bulge in my panties would be
"What? Pamela, so far you look like a skinny girl. Maybe you
are just a
skinny girl, in which case Josie needn't feel so bad. Off with the panties,
Pamela." I slipped out of my panties. The girls in the room stared
silently as I stood there before them with shrunken jewels.
"So it's true, you are a boy. Sort of," said Jerri
after a minute's
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, "I suppose I am a boy,
although I don't really
feel much like one when I'm, you know, looking like a girl. I didn't feel
like a boy last night with Roger." My lame excuses tumbled out as the girls
stared at my hairless body and my manicured, painted nails.
"No, I suppose you didn't feel like a boy," Josie said,
upset, "when Roger came in your mouth, did you?"
"I'm sorry, Josie. Really sorry. I only did it because Roger
sex and I couldn't give him sex, like he wanted it."
"You could have just said no," Josie said. "Real
girls say no all the
"Did you swallow his semen," asked Jerri.
"Yes ma'am. I had to. He held my head so I couldn't pull away."
Josie approached me and took my limp penis. "Sissy,"
she said. "You'll
never be a real girl, never ever, cause you got this., thing!" She let it
go, then gave it a quick slap. "Just stay away from John, or else!"
"Josie, calm down. Give him a break. After all, he looks
like a girl, so
he'll act like one," said Cathy.
Jerri approached me and took my penis and balls into her hand,
them as if she were a doctor. "I've never seen a guy who wears skirts and
bras before. But your cock looks so normal, except it's so petite and
hairless. Almost pretty."
"So, Pamela has a feminine cock," laughed Cathy.
"Yea, that's what I mean," Jerri said "But Pamela
had better get her pretty
clothes back on now. The guys should be back any minute."
"Here, have a cup of tea," Sara said to Maria as the
two sat at the kitchen
"Thank you, Sara. I'll wait in here for awhile. Manuel would
be angry with
me if I were to see Pamela naked."
"I understand, Maria, I'll wait here with you. I don't care
to join the
others in humiliating Pamela. She's not really a bad person."
"Maybe not, Sara, but I don't understand him. Why would a
guy want to be a
girl? And a maid? A man, working as a female maid? No, no, I just don't
understand. Manuel would never do it. I wouldn't think any man would ever
do that. Doesn't Pamela know what people must think of him? He must
disgrace his familia."
"All true, Maria. But Pamela is a really a good maid. She
helps out a lot,
and never complains. She's actually rather sweet. And she's got a really
bad crush on me."
"No, Maria, it's true. She once told me she loved me. Plus,
I can tell by
the way she looks at me. Not with a masculine lust, not like that at
all. She just acts as if she'd like to cuddle up with me and play
"That would be like two girls getting it on, it seems to
me," Maria said
"True. I would never do anything with Pamela. Guys in
dresses don't turn me
on," Sara laughed. "A couple of days ago, when she was down in the laundry
room washing my clothes,."
"What? He washes your clothes, too?"
"Of course. Pamela cleans the house, washes clothes, scrubs
the toilets. I
tell you, Maria, it's a pleasure having her around."
"I bet. Now I see why you like him so much."
"Anyway, a couple of weeks ago Pamela was here doing her
chores. I just
happened to walk past the laundry room. Pamela didn't notice me. She was
standing next to the sink getting ready to hand wash my lingerie. She
really does a good job at it; I've noticed my lingerie and pantyhose last a
lot longer now, under Pamela's care. It was so, well, weird. She took a
pair of my dirty panties, they were pink ones with white lace flowers
embroidered on them, and she held them up to her face. And she held them
there, and just breathed in slowly, several times. I don't know; maybe she
could smell my sweat, or maybe, well, who knows what she could smell. But
her eyes closed, as if she were in a distant paradise. And then, the really
odd thing, she reached under her skirt and began to rub herself."
"You mean, he started to masturbate?"
"Yea, Maria, he did. His penis was inside his panties so it
out or anything, but what else could he have been doing? I guess the smell
and feel of my dirty panties excited her. Then, while still rubbing herself
with the one hand, she took another pair of my panties in her other hand
and held that pair up to her face and breathed in. Her hand trembled, so he
must have been excited. By this time I was really getting embarrassed just
watching, so I made a slight noise. Wow, was he ever surprised! Pamela
blushed beet red. He said he was just "rearranging" his panties, as they
were a little tight. I felt kinda sorry for him., or her., whatever she
is. It's gotta be humiliating to be a man and get caught doing something
"My, that's weird, Sara. And it's gross, too. But, you know,
pregnant and still working full time, it's very hard on me. From what you
say, Pamela is a fem, but he's harmless. Maybe I could borrow him some day,
and he could help out around the house. I get so tired of picking up after
Manuel, washing his clothes, cooking, shopping, and so on. It's all so hard
to do with this baby in my belly. It would be kind of ironic if I could get
a guy to clean up after Manuel, and cook for him. And shop for me."
"It shouldn't be a problem at all, Maria. I'm sure Pamela
will be happy to
help you. I can send her by on the weekends, when the motel is not busy,
and once or twice during the week. All you'll have to do is treat her like
a girl. Try not to refer to her as male, or to use masculine words like him
or he, as they hurt his feelings a bit. And treat her just like a maid;
tell her exactly what to do, and she'll do it for you. Plus, if you
occasionally complement her on, say, her hair, or her dress, or her nails,
that'll make her feel more, ., womanly."
"Believe me, Sara," Maria laughed as she patted her
bulging belly, "I know
what it's really like to be a woman, and it's not about playing dress up!"
"Don't we real girls know it," Sara agreed with a
smile. "You know, it
would be a good education for Pamela if you used her throughout the next
few months, even after the baby is born. You'll need the help, Maria. And
it will let Pamela experience, through you, a bit of what motherhood is
really all about. Just tell Manuel that Pamela is a girlfriend who's
helping you out."
""I'll give it a try, Sara. It'll feel odd having an
anglo boy as a
girlfriend," Maria laughed, "but if she's as sweet as you say, I can put up
with it. But I guess I'll have to keep my dirty panties away from him,"
Maria said, giggling.
I was slipping on my shoes when the guys returned, scuttling my
hope for an
easy exit. Roger, who had clearly been drinking, approached me, put his arm
around me, and kissed me hard upon the mouth. I didn't resist. I knew the
girls were watching, and could only imagine what they were thinking. I
prayed that Josie would be able to control her anger until after I was able
"Please, Roger," I whispered to him after the kiss,
"I've got to go home
right now, I really do!"
"No problem, girl," he said, "but let's go into
the kitchen first. I'm
hungry." While the others sat around watching the Letterman Show, I
followed Roger into the kitchen, expecting to make him a sandwich and then
"So, Pamela, are you off your period yet," Roger asked
as soon as the
kitchen door closed.
"Why no, Roger. No. I can't do., that. No."
"You don't like me," he asked.
"No Roger, that's not it," I replied honestly. I did like him, sort of.
"OK then, do me like last night."
"What? Here? No way, Roger," I said, surprised he was
suddenly acting so
crude and forward.
"Why not? We're alone. It won't take only a couple of minutes."
"If you're too shy, Pamela, I'll ask Sara if we can use her bedroom."
"No! Please don't do that, Roger," I said frantically.
I definitely did
not want to have sex in Sara's bed with a male. Not only would Sara know,
but just the thought of doing it in the bedroom of the girl I loved, well,
it was just far too twisted to comprehend.
"OK., if we hurry, Roger," I continued. "I
suppose., maybe. Gosh, this is
"C'mon Pamela, it'll make me happy."
I glanced behind me, and after assuring myself that both doors
kitchen were closed, I knelt down in front of Roger, lowered the zipper on
his jeans, then undid the button on his pants. Again he wore no
underwear. His large thick penis was already hard and throbbing. I couldn't
believe this! What in the world was I doing here? How in the world did it
come to this? Is this how real women live, always maked into pleasing
Roger put his hands behind my head and guided me to his prick,
which I took
into my mouth. My eyes closed as I began to suck and as Roger pumped in and
out, in and out. Clearly he was extremely horny tonight. It didn't take
long. Soon I felt his body tense like steel, and I knew what was coming. I
was repulsed but also pleased that I would finish this before being
Roger emitted a muffled groan and plunged his cock forward while
simultaneously pulling my head towards him. I nearly choked as his cock
rammed into my mouth and throat. I could feel his cum pumping into my
feminized body. I continued kneeling before Roger, still wearing my sweater
and skirt, as the last few drops of semen coated my throat. I swallowed
again and again. Finally Roger loosened his grip on my head and I withdrew
from my union with his member.
"Jesus," Roger half-whispered, "that felt like heaven, Pamela."
"Thank you," I replied, not knowing just how to respond
to such a
complement. I noticed my red lipstick had smeared onto Roger's cock.
"Hey, you two ought to be in the movies," I heard Jerri
say. I turned my
head to see both Jerri and Cathy standing just a few feet behind
me. Apparently they had entered through the back kitchen door during our
sex act and witnessed at least some of my debauchery. Immensely embarrassed
and flustered and liberated by alcohol, I quickly took Roger's penis into
my hands and stuffed it back into his pants, which I zipped up.
"Roger," I stammered, "why didn't you say something?"
"Cause you suck so good, honey," he replied nonchalantly.
Instantly, without thinking, I slapped Roger's face. It was a
action. Immediately I realized how foolish I must have looked to Jeri and
Cathy, not because Roger didn't deserve it, but because I slapped him just
like a girl would. A man, a real man, might have punched him, or shoved
him, but I slapped him. An effeminate, sissy slap. Cathy
giggled. Humiliated by my lack of any trace of manliness, I grabbed the
straps of my purse, which was set upon the table, and ran out of the
kitchen, out the back door of the house, and continued running until I
reached my room. Even as I ran I could taste Roger's cum and feel it coat
my mouth. Only after I closed the door to my room did I realize I was
sobbing, just like a girl.
Sunday was warm and sunny. I had slept well despite last night's
eleven I had finished cleaning rooms as the motel had only a few guests. I
then returned to my room, freshened my makeup, touched up my lipstick,
brushed my hair, and walked to Sara's to do my daily maid work there.
It took Sara a few minutes to open her door. She obviously had
Sara's long, dark hair, as fine as silk, was mussed yet so beautiful. She
wore only a short, pastel blue teddy, with matching panties. Her soft,
young breasts were clearly visible through the semi-transparent
nightie. Her fingernails and toe nails were painted bright red, but other
than that she was all natural, all female. I couldn't help but stare at
Sara, stunned, even overwhelmed by her beauty and her natural femininity.
"Well, what are you staring at, Pamela? Haven't you ever
seen a girl
before," she asked rhetorically, smiling, then put her arms around me and
warmly embraced me and gently kissed my lips. I noticed the kiss had
transferred a touch of my lipstick onto Sara's lips, adding to the sexiness
of her smile.
"Come in, Pamela! I just woke up. You'll have to excuse my look."
"Excuse the way you look, Mistress! Why, never before have I
seen a sight
so very beautiful!"
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Pamela," Sara laughed,
then she took my
hand and led me to her bedroom. It was messy, with lingerie and the outfit
she wore last night scattered about, and a pair of men's boxer shorts and
t-shirt also thrown onto the floor. "Forgive me for being so giddy, Pamela,
and for making such a mess for you to clean, but last night was, well,
something special. Mike and I, well., let's just say it was a night I'll
"Mistress Sara," I replied glumly, "I don't mind cleaning up after you."
"That's nice of you, Pamela. You really are so very nice.
Tell me, were you
a nice boy before, you know., your "change"?"
I blushed. "Well, yes, I suppose so, but I was a man,
Mistress, not a
boy. I mean, I am a man, Mistress, I suppose."
Sara began laughing, not a mean laugh, but a joyful, giddy laugh.
she said, "you're not really a man anymore. I mean, look at yourself. You
are pretty! Even rather sexy. And I mean that in a nice way."
"But I am a man. Really! I mean, I like you like a man. I
love you like a
man would love you. And I could make love to you like a man, Mistress."
"Perhaps you could," she said thoughtfully, "but
for this morning you've
been promoted from a mere maid to a chambermaid!"
"I don't understand," I said, perplexed.
"Silly girl! Chambermaid! That just means you'll need to
help me clean up a
bit, OK? After that, you can clean my bedroom. The sheets are a bit dirty,
Pamela, because Mike fucked me five times last night!" Pamela spoke and
acted as if she were aglow. She was clearly in love, but not with me. "Oh,
and you must clean Mike's underwear, too. Hand wash them, but separately
from my lingerie."
"Tell me, Pamela, before you became a girl., I mean, when
you were a boy..,
or man., gee, just describing you is so difficult! Anyway, back before you
wore skirts, did you ever make love to a woman five times in one night?"
"No Mistress," I replied sadly.
"You have made love to a woman, haven't you?"
"Well, ah., I, well yes, of course.," I replied,
flustered. "Don't you
remember, Sara, I made love to you."
"Oh., yes., I forgot." She paused, then continued,
"but other than that one
I blushed and remained silent.
"I'm sorry, Pamela. I didn't realize you were a., virgin.
But that's OK,
Pamela. I was just wondering how it felt to a man, making love and all.,
whether it feels as marvelous to Mike as it does to me. But anyway, Pammy
dear, I can see I'm embarrassing you again. You're so demure! Now go ahead
and take off your clothes."
My eyes opened wide with surprise. "What, mistress?"
"Your uniform, silly girl. Take it off. You'll have to help
me bathe, and
you don't want to get it all wet, do you?"
"I suppose not," I said sheepishly.
"Take all your clothes off, Pamela. You really do have a
pretty body, you
"Oh, well, yes, I suppose you should leave your bra on,
honey. Amanda could
return, and if she were to catch you without your titties, she'd be pissed.
She paid a lot for those silicone inserts, you know, because she wanted you
to feel more womanly. Amanda does care for you, really."
"Yes, Mistress," I replied as I slipped out of my dress
and began removing
my pantyhose. Then I removed my slip, leaving me wearing only a bra and a
"Oh Pamela! I don't know how you can stand wearing panty
girdles! Go ahead
and take it off, Don't be so shy, girl!"
Slowly, under Sara's gaze, I removed the tight-fitting pink panty
leaving me naked except for my bra. In one sense I was excited to be nearly
naked while alone with Sara, yet I felt incredibly embarrassed.
"Now, don't you feel better, Pamela, without all those
clothes? You know,
real girls don't always dress up. Anyway, my dear chambermaid, come and
massage my shoulders," Sara said as she slipped out of her teddy and sat
upon the small stool.
I did as asked. Standing behind her, I gently rubbed her bare
neck. I gently kissed the nape of her neck. As I massaged, I looked down at
Sara's beautiful, firm ass. My cock began to harden.
"Oh, that does feel nice, Pamela, " Sara said.
"Now I want you to massage
"But how, Mistress?"
"With your tongue, you silly little chambermaid."
I did as commanded. Sara lay on her bed with her legs off the
edge, so that
her pussy was right there, open, at the edge of the bed. I knelt down
before her, like a subject before his goddess, with my mouth at the same
height as her vagina, and slowly, gently, put my mouth to her crotch. My
tongue explored and caressed her female mysteries.
"Yes, dear Pamela, that does feel so very nice. Clean it
out, my baby. I
know you don't mind the cum which Mike deposited there. Jerri told me how
much you seemed to enjoy swallowing Roger's cum! Oh, Pamela, what we girls
must do to make our men happy." Sara droned on in an increasingly excited
tone of voice. "Keep at it, Pamela, don't stop unless I say to
stop. That's it, right there, lick right there. Go ahead, girl, keep at
"Maybe you'll like being a girl, Pamela. You gotta admit
that you've had
more sex in your couple of months as a girl then you had in 21 years as a
boy. And believe me, Pammy, it's really enjoyable. Not just the sex, but
everything. Dressing up, looking pretty, the feeling of sisterhood, even
motherhood. You'll love it, Pamela., oh, yes, stay at it., right like
that., keep it up, little girl.." I could feel her entire body shiver
while as her juices flowed around my tongue and mouth.
After some moments of silence, she continued, "By the way,
Pamela, we girls
had a talk with Roger last night. We discussed you and your.,
deficiencies., as a girl. We showed him your photo album, you know, from
the doctor's office, but we tried to cover up your little., thing, so Roger
wouldn't actually have to see it. Anyway, Roger said you look rather sexy
in those photos! Roger likes you. He's willing to try to overlook your
penis., he called it your "problem"., as long as, in his words, he never
has to "see it, suck it, or get stuck by it". I just wanted you to know
that he likes you., strictly as a female, that is. We, all of us girls,
have vowed not to ever tell any of the other guys about you." As she
talked, Sara's lovely legs held my head in place, and she was even able to
guide me a bit just by shifting her thigh muscles slightly.
"Roger's looking forward to the time you finish your
electrolysis and get
your real titties. Your tongue feels so fine, honey, so gentle, much
different from the overpowering sensation of a real man's prick, you
understand. You eat me like a girl does, Pamela, and I like that. I like
that a lot!"
My cock had been rubbing against the blankets which hung from
causing me to become ever more excited as Sara went through cycles of
orgasm. Suddenly Sara trembled violently and grasped my head with her
hands and pulled me tightly against her as she climaxed yet again. At the
same time I, too, reached the precipice of orgasm; my cock began to pulse
and was only a touch away from coming. I held still, very careful not to
let my throbbing member touch anything, fearful lest I shoot cum onto
Sara's bed and carpet, angering her. Luckily I had stopped just in time; I
felt the orgasm fade, the throbbing ebb. I had just experienced a dry
orgasm, something that happens on occasion.
Sara's legs finally loosened, and I collapsed onto the floor,
exhausted. For several minutes Sara lay motionless on her bed, while I too
lay motionless, on the floor, staring up at the ceiling fan slowly
rotating, my mind devoid of all thought.
"Oh, Pamela, that did feel good, so good," Sara said,
breaking the silence.
"Now, dear Pamela, make love to me. Make love to me like a man makes love
to the woman he loves."
"Yes, sis, you heard me. You're still a man, so prove it to
me. I know
you've been infatuated with me since the moment you first saw me. Come and
show me what you feel for me. I'm a woman, treat me like one! Please
Incredulous about my good fortune, I got up from the floor and
Sara's bed. She spread her legs, and I lowered myself onto her. I noticed
tiny drops of sweat on her brow; I could smell, almost taste, her youthful
"That's it, Pammy. You know, last night Jerri and Cathy were
how feminine your cock looks. They said it was more clit than cock. I
didn't say anything, but I know better. You're still a male, and you desire
me. So come now, Pamela, and fuck me. I've been horny all morning!"
I kissed Sara's neck, then her breasts. I tried. God, how I
tried! But my
dry orgasm had sapped me; my cock remained flaccid. I rubbed it against
Sara, hoping and praying it would harden, but it didn't. I don't know if it
was the female hormones, or a born lack of manhood, but having almost come
once, I simply could not get hard again.
"What's wrong, Pamela? I thought you loved me. You love me
like a man, you
said it yourself," Sara sounded hurt as she grasped my shrunken penis, "but
this is how you prove it? Pamela! I've never had a man do this to
"Jesus, Pamela, Jerri was right. You're not a man anymore,
not at all!
Cathy and Jerri said you were hard as you sucked Roger's cock, but for me,
a real woman, your dick gets softer than a girl's breast. Why, it's so damn
tiny, Pamela," she muttered as she held it in her hand. "Damn," she said
loudly, with total disgust. I had never seen Sara so upset; clearly, she
considered my failure as an affront to her sexuality.
"I'm sorry, Mistress. Maybe later., just give me an hour., please.."
"What? I should wait an hour so that tiny pink prick might,
just might, get
excited over me? You sissy! You fairy!"
We were both uncomfortably silent for what seemed an eternity. I
what thoughts were going through the beautiful girl's mind. I continued
trying to awaken my sleeping manhood, unsuccessfully.
"No, Pamela, you're a girl. You apparently are accepting
that as a fact,
and I should have accepted it, too. You're my chambermaid. I shouldn't have
expected anything more from you. Now go run me a bath like a good little
maid." I was crying as I got off my dear Sara. Any male ego I had left was
"Sara sat up on her bed and stared at me with contempt. I
emasculated and humiliated as I stood beside Sara's bed, wearing only my
bra, with my soft, shrunken cock hanging limply, a sad relic of lost
manhood. Sara just stared silently at my useless member.
"Please, Mistress," I finally got the courage to ask,
"may I put my panties
"Why Pamela! Are you ashamed to let me see that useless
hanging between your legs?"
"Yes Mistress. It's embarrassing."
"I suppose it is. Yes., I suppose it is... Oh, go ahead! Put
girdle back on. And here, put my nightgown on, too. I wouldn't want to make
you uncomfortable, would I," Sara said as she tossed me her lacy blue
teddy. "Gee, Pamela, do you realize that you act like a young schoolgirl?"
"Yes, Mistress," I replied as I first pulled on my
panty girdle and then
slipped into her nightgown. As I donned Sara's teddy, I felt a strange
sense of warmth, of comfort, an almost mystical sense of well-being.
"Very good, Pamela, massage gently," Sara said as I
worked conditioner into
her hair. I knelt by the tub, wearing Sara's short nightgown, while she sat
in the bubble bath I had poured for her. "You do make an outstanding
chambermaid, Pamela. I'll definitely make use of your services more often,
now that I see just how good you are." From the tone of her voice I could
tell that her anger towards me had ebbed.
"Awhile back, Amanda bought you a very pretty French maid's
know the kind: black frilly dress with short hemline and frilly white
apron, and white bonnet., it's really something! At the time, I asked her
to not make you wear it because, well, I thought you might be embarrassed
to be seen in it."
"I understand, Mistress."
"But I was wrong, Pamela, and Amanda was right. I suppose
you should wear
it. After all, it'll make you look very sexy."
"Yes, Mistress, I suppose so," I said as I gently dried
Sara, now standing,
with a fluffy towel.
"Oh, and by the way, Pamela, I promised Mike that you would
go by his
apartment once or twice a week to tidy it up. You can vacuum, do the
dishes, wash his clothes. Just do all the wifely duties., except sex, that
"Yes, Mistress," I replied apprehensively, "but I
believe I would feel.,
well., uncomfortable, cleaning your boyfriend's apartment, as if I were
his, you know., wife.."
"Yes," Sara laughed, "particularly when dressed as a French maid!"
"But," she continued after a few moments, in a serious
tone of voice, "just
remember, Pamela, you are not allowed to flirt with my boyfriend. Never!
"Yes, Mistress," I replied, shame-faced.
"And if ever comes on to you, you leave his place
immediately. No playing
the helpless little girl like you do with Roger."
"Yes, Mistress, I understand," I replied. I realized
that the relationship
between Sara and myself had irrevocably changed. No more did she see me as
male, or even potentially male. I felt very, very sad.
"Yes, Pamela, you'll soon get used to being female. In fact,
I bet you'll
never go back. You're a Texan now. The boy from Iowa is no more. Ahora,
Pamela es la senorita de Tejas."
As I write this, bitter cold has long since settled upon northern
look out the window and see snow swirl and blow under cold gray
skies. Soon, six months will have passed since I crossed the ever-muddy Red
River, out of Texas and into Oklahoma, heading north. I have not been back,
and have no plans to do so.
Yet my thoughts have often returned to those few days I spent in
Texas, and to Pamela. In ways I did not understand at the time, immersing
myself in Pamela's story disturbed my life view. No longer is my world
black and white, male and female. I regret the loss of certainty once held.
I've ended Pamela's story with his confrontation with Sara, even
that occurred several months before I happened upon the hotel. That event
was a watershed for Pamela; it seemed a reasonable place to stop. Maybe
someday I'll put to paper the rest of Pamela's unusual story.
Several days ago, as I finished writing this, I telephoned the
View. Sara answered, and we talked for just a few minutes. She's engaged
now, to Mike, with a nice wedding planned for the 21st of May. Amanda took
the news badly, but in Sara's words, "she'll just have to live with
it". Maria had a beautiful baby boy, and is now truly happy. Josie and John
are still together, although their relationship remains rocky. The
schoolgirls all still work part time; in fact, she said, Emily was lying by
the pool as we spoke, in her swimsuit, getting a nice tan.
And Pamela? Sara said she couldn't talk, as she was at the beauty
Amanda bought a used car a few months ago for Pamela to use, so now she
gets out into the world much more often than before. And Pamela now earns a
paycheck, just minimum wage with a little withheld for room and board, but
enough so that she frequently goes out shopping. The beauty shop has
become a weekly ritual for Pamela, "just like it is for my mother", said
Sara with a little laugh.
Roger joined the army not long after I interviewed him. Mike
heard that he
was badly wounded recently and may be coming home soon, news which upset
Pamela considerably. "Soon she may need to learn a new female skill," said
Sara, "and become a nurse."
I asked Sara if Pamela ever talks of returning home to Iowa.
"As a matter
of fact," Sara said, "I asked her about that just last week. It seems that
with money in her purse and access to a car, she could go back now. But
Pamela just responded in a rather sad voice: "there's no road home anymore,
Sara, there's just no road home".
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