Urban
patreon
A Boy With Girly Hair - The Contest - Part 6
🕑 Added 2021-05-31 06:51:57 +0000 UTCSaturday morning. The big day, I thought to myself. I looked at the clock. In 10 hours, Edward will be here. Thinking about him and the reunion caused shivers to run up and down my spine. I slipped on a bra and into a loose-fitting silky, peach-colored sleepshirt that hung almost to my knees. I ran my fingers over the notched collar, smooth satin trim, and covered buttons.
The sleepshirt is so cute that I wish Edward would stop by now so he could see me in it. In the bathroom, I stared in the mirror; I hoped there would be other occasions when I could wear my hair in such pretty braids. Maybe I can go to Mrs. Rodiguez's and Alicia can again braid my hair. Edward came back to my mind. I wondered if he would like me in such pretty braids; I wondered if he would like to untie them and comb them out for me. And maybe What was I thinking? This is all a game. Anyway, soon my girl days will be ending, and I came back to my senses.
Downstairs I saw Mom and Sis in the kitchen. When I entered the room, they stopped talking. "Wow, that's pretty," Sis said, "I don't remember buying that."
"Well, you did. You spent so much money buying me things; no wonder you don't remember it," I answered. "I hear you're getting married, Sis."
With a face all smiles, she sighed, "In February."
"Hey, that's great," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
"And you know what I was just saying to Mom? Now don't get upset, Mom. But if I had my way, you'd be one of my bridesmaids."
"Me!"
"Sure, having Nicky return would be fun, and only a few people would know, and they know already," Sis added. "Of course, Mom doesn't like the idea, but maybe she'll change her mind."
I guess Sis saw the sour look on my face. "You do want to be Nicky for my wedding, don't you? You'll get to have your hair up in lots of curls, and everyone will say how pretty you look."
"Oh Yeah, sure," I said, trying to sound disinterested in the idea.
For a minute, I wondered if I would do such a thing or if Mom would let me if I wanted to. I knew Sis wanted to talk more about it, like get a promise out of me, but Mom broke into the conversation. "We've got lots to do today.
First thing, Nick, shampoo and condition your hair." Mom looked like she was ready for a battle, so I left to follow orders. In the bathroom, I unpinned and unraveled my braids. I couldn't believe how luxurious my hair looked as I combed it out into a cascade of waves that rippled off my shoulders. As I slid my back down in the tub, I let my hair float on the water before sliding into the hot suds. All gone, I thought.
My beautiful waves were all gone, but I was consoled, knowing that soon I'd have another beautiful hairstyle. I finished shampooing my hair and dried myself off.
Going to my room in only my panties, I met Jean in the hall.
"You don't fool me, Nick," Sis taunted. "I know you like playing dress-up.
You'll have your hair up in curls upon curls with little flowers and a dress with lots of billowy petticoats. Oh, yes, and lovely matching shoes. And you'll have an escort who will be strong and handsome, just like you like them. Just think about that! I know that excites you."
"Don't bother me now," I called to her from inside my room. "I've got too much to do to be bothered by your goofy ideas." I guess Jean knew me well. Her teasing ran through my mind, and for a while, I became distracted by thoughts of myself dressed in a gorgeous bridesmaid's dress, laughing and giggling with other pretty bridesmaids. I guess getting ready for my first fancy date as a girl made me think a lot of girl thoughts. I returned to reality and looked over my clothes.
I wanted to be comfy, so I dressed in lounging around the house outfit blue girl short-shorts and a cotton halter top that was white with little red dots, three buttons in front, and a fake knot with tapered ends that hung over my exposed ribs and stomach. I didn't even bother with a bra. Downstairs I found Mom on the living room couch fussing what her hair goodies. Mom and Sis both liked doing my hair on the couch with the morning sun streaming in the room. I sat at my usual place, a hassock in front of her. Mom rubbed and patted and rubbed and patted my hair until it was almost dry and then combed it out.
"I know you like the pink plastic rollers, but these one-inch mesh rollers are so much easier for me to use."
Mom was right. They weren't as pretty as the pink ones, but I could tell that it was easier for her to roll my hair. My mother combed forward a section, a narrow section I could tell, and squirted and squirted the bottle of setting lotion, then rolled and pinned it in place. Mom said she was going to roll only about half the length of some strands before pinning the rollers to the back of my head. She said that would produce a curly ponytail.
Again and again, I felt the tug on my scalp and the wetness of the lotion as she set the top, sides, and back of my hair. I could tell she was running out of room by her fumbling fingers and the tightness of the curlers pressing against each other. By noon Mom finished, and my head was aglow with the sensation of rollers pressing against my scalp. When she finished, my hand shot up to pat my head. Geez, there must be 20 rollers packed on the back of my head, with roller after roller tightly squeezed against each other. I kept patting and patting, examining with my fingertips every contour and crevice of the mountain of hair rollers until Mom snapped at me, saying, "Stop it, or I'll never get finished."
Mom then trimmed a strand of hair by each ear, twisted the saturated stands around her finger, and placed two metal clips on each curl.
"Nick, dear, I've got to buy some items so why don't you come with me? It's a beautiful day outside, and your hair will dry quickly in the sun."
"Mom, I can't go looking like this. I look silly."
"No, you don't. You look like you have a big date tonight. Which you have."
"Girls don't go out with hair rollers on their head," I protested.
"Nick, you're not a girl. Remember?" Mom shot back as she used both hands to open up and spread a hairnet over the rollers. "Now do what I say. Put on a bra and your inserts and your sandals, and come back with what you have on. You want
people to notice you, now they will."
I looked like I was about to explode with my black bra and inserts stuffed into my skimpy halter top. Thank God the halter covered my bra, but just barely. And my cutoff shorts were so scanty that I was afraid something might get noticed.
I felt like people were already staring at me, and I was still in my bedroom. What was wrong with Mom? She was always saying how terrible this and that girl looked for going out so exposed, and now I looked just as bad, worst because I had my hair in rollers. Thank God Mom didn't pull the hairnet over my forehead but pinned it back from my hairline. Turning to my side, I could see the bulge of rollers in the back of my head. I know I should have hated the way I looked, but I kinda liked the image. Every roller was a curl, and soon they'd be free to spread their feminine charms. But going out in public with such an appearance now that was something else!
"Oh, Mama," I pleaded, "I don't want people to see me looking like this. I don't even have any makeup on and, and I look more like a boy than a girl without my hair fixed and without makeup and without a dress."
But Mom was insistent, saying, "You do not. Now, you go out looking like this, or you don't go out tonight." That silenced me.
At the mall, we walked into a Walgreens. I shivered as we entered the air-conditioned building. The cold air against my stomach and legs made me feel even more exposed, and I rubbed my arms, not just because I was chilly but to cover up my chest. As we walked up and down the aisles, Mom paused again and again to study items and compare prices. I felt so self-conscious that I stayed next to her and tried to turn my back as others passed by, or at least tried to cover myself.
"Act natural, like you're a real girl," Mom instructed as I kept bumping into her.
That wasn't easy to do with girls my age weaving around us. "Mom, can we hurry up, please?" I whined in her ear.
"Shush, Nick. If you distract me, it'll take longer to shop.
The cosmetic aisles were full of girls and women. And teenage girls, they're the worst for picking out a fake girl, I bet. I saw them look at me and just knew they recognized me as a boy dressed as a girl, or at the least, they saw a very plain-looking girl. I'm not sure what I feared the most. Being thought of as plain-looking was awful for a girl, I thought. Mom picked out lots of things. She seemed to be having fun, but for sure, I wasn't. I hung close to Mom as she scrutinized the cosmetic counter. The salesgirl moved towards us, and I turned away to hurry to a wall display, but Mom took my hand in hers.
"May I help you?" the young girl asked.
"We're looking for an eyelash curler," Mom replied.
The girl smiled at Mom and then looked right into my eyes.
"I'll get you one," the girl said, and in a minute, she was back.
"We have some new perfume. If you'd like to sample a whiff," the girl continued, holding a clear glass bottle.
"Fine," Mom said and nudged me to the counter.
"Your date will love this," the girl said as she daubed me behind the ears.
"Nice," I said, the word coming out in my worst, or maybe I should say best boy's voice.
"No, thank you," Mom said. "Maybe next time."
Thank God I was able to leave the store while Mom paid for the items. There was a McDonald's at the end of the mall, and Mom asked me if I was hungry. "Sure," I said, and we drove there. I expected we'd use the drive-thru, but Mom insisted we go in. Then I tried to tell her that I really wasn't hungry after all, but she said she was.
"Order a meal for me," Mom said as she sat down at the last empty table. The place was full of lots of young girls and boys my age. Of course, I was the only one with curlers in her hair. I heard voices giggling behind me and just knew they were talking about me. As always, I picked the slowest line in the whole place. As I waited, I concentrated on giving my order in my best girl voice, which, thank God, I was able to pull off fairly well. Finally, we had our meal and were finished.
When we got home and into the living room, Mom looked over her goodies.
"We're not going to overlook anything today," she said as she unpacked her purchases and named them: "tapered brush to powder around your eyes, nose, and mouth; flat eye brush to spot apply the base; slant-tip eye brush to powder your eye line; brow gel to control those few wiry hairs of yours; white eye shadow to brighten your eyes; eyelash curler to make your eyes look bigger; black eye shadow to softly define your eyes; eyelash; smoky kohl pencil for that sexy look; foam sponges to blend the foundation; brown eye shadow to contour the crease; lip brush to get a correct lipstick application; lip balm to guide the liner over your lips; neutral lip pencil to give you a fuller mouth; peach gloss lipstick for kissable lips; and finally a light peach blush." My eyes nearly bulged out of my head at the sight of so many sensuous cosmetics. I just couldn't be angry at Mom now for taking so long in the store.
Mom said it would do me good to take a nap, so I removed my bra and laid down on the couch in my top and shorts. I'm not sure that I ever went to sleep, but I did have real sexy daydreams. I got up groggy. Mom said to bathe and be sure to use the lotion on the rim of the tub to remove the hair on my arms and legs. "I'll be inspecting you, so be sure to take off every unsightly hair," she called to me.
"And use my shaver for under your arms, and don't forget your face. And wear your black panties, and bring out your black half slip and black lacy bra, And don't you get your hair wet." I took another long and sudsy bath and did as instructed, checking to be certain that I was smooth as a baby's bottom, as my parents would say. Of course, I knew what half slip to bring with me; I only had one.
I rejoined Mom in the kitchen wearing only my panties, and she inspected my arms and legs. I guess I did an excellent job with the lotion and shaver because she smiled a smile of approval.
"Nick, go put your top on; it's hard for me to get serious about this seeing your boy's chest."
With that, I ran to my room and put on my halter top. Mom took a long time applying my makeup. By now, the sensation of having makeup applied was no longer new, but I still beamed with excitement at the phenomenon of all the different brushes and pencils and combs and sponges and powders on my face.
"Thanks, Mom, for all you've done for me," I said, having forgiven her for making me go out the way I looked. I guess she did it to help me gain more confidence.
"That's okay; it's the least I can do for my new daughter for a week."
Mom helped with the bra and inserts and adjusted the straps so they fit perfectly. She then removed from the package a pair of flesh-colored stockings. I rolled them up and slid them over my legs. How easy they glided over my smooth legs. I tingled with excitement at the tightness of the hose against my thighs. Oops, my maleness became aroused, so I dropped my hands, covering myself.
"Don't worry about that," Mom said cheerfully.
"The dress will hide that. You don't want to be uncomfortable with a supporter, do you?"
"Naah, I guess not."
Mom helped me with the black slip. It was the first time I had ever worn one, and I shivered with delight as the smooth material slid over me. Finally, Mom gingerly removed the hairnet. I couldn't wait for my hair to be styled and ran to the mirror.
Looking in the mirror, I was hypnotized at what I saw. I turned, gestured, and leaned one way and then another. The bronze eyeshadow and long, dark curled eyelashes, pulled-back hair, stacked rollers, and short black slip made me look and feel much older than my 16 years. Geez, I looked and felt incredibly sexy.
What a silly thought I had to go to the dance looking just the way I did. Good thing I couldn't because if I did, I'd be all over Edward even if he was a man. When I returned to Mom, she brought out nail polish and a nail kit. She cleaned my nails and applied what she called "nail extensions," which made my nails about a quarter-inch longer than they were. After checking to see if they were dry, she applied red nail polish, Revlon's Red Raven. Soaking the applicator, she applied a thick coat, two more vertical coats, and finished with a layer of polish across the tips to make it longer-lasting. My nails looked beautiful. Constantly I turned my wrist to look at my watch. Geez, I never noticed; it was my boy's watch. Can't wear that tonight, I reminded myself. That's all I need. One silly mistake and my house of card would come crashing down, I feared. First, it was 8 hours until Ed would arrive; now, it was 3. Already my stomach was in knots. Then Mom did my toenails. Wow, I got a real kick out of that.
Four o'clock, and Mom began to comb out my hair. Sis and Dad were there to watch, which surprised me. For some reason, this day meant a lot to them. Mom ceremoniously removed the pins and carefully unwound and placed the hair rollers in a basket. What a show Mom was putting on! She combed my hair to the middle of the back of my head and secured it with a covered hairband. Then she wound thin fake braids around and around, five or six times, to cover the band. I felt her fingers unravel the coils of hair off the mesh rollers, carefully fluff them out, and spread the ends with a small-toothed comb to make them billow out even more. The mass of curls caressing my neck and tickling my back caused my shoulders to twitch forward. Mom fussed and fussed over my hair, using the comb to unravel the curls and smooth the top and sides of my hair. Geez, I was dying to run to the mirror to see myself. Then she combed out the pin curls, flickering them against my ears. I just loved my hair when I looked in the mirrors, my sleek hair in front and sides, then coils of thin braids, and then as if the dam had burst, a tide of golden curls cascading down my shoulders. And against my ears rested a wave about an inch and a half wide and about as long, like golden ocean spray against the rocks.
"I don't need to wear earrings now that my ears were covered," I blurted out as I carefully slid my fingers between them.
"You know, I had the hardest time thinking of a hairstyle for you," Sis said. "Then I saw this one and knew with your classic profile, it was for you. You have a beautiful hairline, little brother."
"He's beautiful," Mom said, looking at me in a voice choked with emotion.
"He's prettier than I ever was," Dad said admiringly, "than I ever could believe."
I was all smiling.
"Doesn't our little sissy boy look cute," Sis exclaimed.
Mom reprimanded Jean. "Don't be so fresh with your brother."
"I was just telling the truth," she said, trying to save face. "You look really pretty, too pretty for that ass of a date."
"Ass," I said, astonished. "What's wrong with you?"
Even Mom was surprised. "Why do you say that, Jean? He seems to be a very nice
man."
"I hear that he's a real, ass that's all." With that, Sis dropped the subject.
By now, it was time to put on my dress. Man, was I excited!
Mom was about to help me into the dress when Jean yelled to stop. "This will drive the men mad," she said as she removed the glass stopper from a perfume bottle.
"Lift up your slip, sweetie," she said.
I fumbled and fumbled, but I was too nervous, so Dad got behind me and slid up my slip to above my waist, and held it there for me. My sister then dabbed perfume on my ankles behind my knees, on the center of my waistline, and on my inner thighs. Thank God she stopped where she did. Then dad dropped and smoothed out my slip for me.
Mom proceeded to help me with the dress. It was black with small white spots, a loose skirt a couple of inches above the knees with short sleeves, a shiny black belt about two inches wide, and a neckline that scooped to the top of my breastbone. I trembled with embarrassing excitement as I felt the fabric drape over my body.
"I'm not through," Sis said. Working her fingers into my bra, she spread some more perfume on the center of my bustline. "Now, a little dab on your wrists so when you move your arms, they'll be an aura of fragrance around you. And some on the edge of your ear and jawbone. That's it, boy, do you smell good," Sis exclaimed with a deep breath and exhaled.
Everyone was fascinated by the transformation of Nick to Nicky and intoxicated by the perfume. Dad said that I would be the prettiest girl at the dance. Mom gave me a hug and said I looked stunning. Even Sis was beside herself with delight. "I bet we win tomorrow; I bet we do," she repeated several times.
Dad massaged my feet and then slipped on my high heels. I tightened the two straps over the toes and the one strap across the ankle. How my black shoes contrasted with the red toenail polish! Wow, I thought, I don't remember them being so tight.
Sis fastened a gold chain around my neck and clasped a gold bracelet of little gold chains on my wrist.
"Here," Mom said, handing me a white purse. "It has some things you might need and some money. And don't forget it somewhere."
"My watch," I exclaimed. "I need a girl's watch."
"Here," Jean said, "take mine."
Now I felt totally awesome, like a queen surrounded by her court. I wobbled the first few steps in my high heels, not having worn them for a day. Right away, I felt my back straightened and a strain on my legs and shoulders. I was as much a girl as I would ever be in my life, I thought to myself as I looked in the mirror. The best thing about the dress is that it made me appear to have the shape of a real girl. Mom snapped some pictures of my attendants and me. The whole scene was one of smiles and hugs. It was 5:30. While we waited, I walked around practicing speaking in all kinds of voices, from firm to sweet to girlish to mature, "Hello, my name is Nicky, Hello, my name is Nicky."
"Don't worry about your voice. Dances are usually so noisy and crowded that no one can hear anything," Mom said reassuringly. Over in our minds, we all tried to think of anything we might have forgotten. Sis was our lookout, peering out the window through the vertical blinds.
"He's here," my sister shrieked. Edward had arrived promptly at 6.
"Wait upstairs and come down a minute or so after Ed enters the house," Mom said out of breath as she moved away from the door. "Remember how to walk and stand, honey."
I heard the door open, then Ed's voice, Dad's voice, Sis's voice, Mom's voice. I took a deep breath and walked down the stairs.
Ed looked very scrumptious in his brown suit, and he'd gotten a haircut, a short one with a part on the side, very masculine. He looked distinguished and handsome with his JFK Jr. look about him. Oops, I caught myself again; that's not what a guy should be thinking. After all, this was just a plaything, me dressing like a girl and all.
"Hi, Nicky," he said.
"Hi, Edward."
With that, we were off. Ed opened the door like a gentleman, and I got in the car as I was taught, sitting down on the seat and pulling my legs in. But this time, I slid closer to him. The drive to the restaurant took about 15 minutes, and all the while, Ed kept saying that his friends would die when they saw me. I didn't know what he meant, but I was hoping he meant I was pretty.
"I want to make a good impression on them," I said to him. "I hope they like me and that I look older than I am."
"Yeah, you look great. And older, maybe 18 or 19. And you've grown a couple of inches over the last few days. Hey, I bet you'll be the most unique person in the room."
"And is that important to you?"
Ed hesitated. "Sure, the only way to get ahead today is to catch people's attention; to be really unusual, and I bet we'll be the most unusual couple at the reunion."
"Unusual" that word had lots of meaning. I wondered what Ed meant by it. For a while, I got distracted by trying to figure it out, but we were walking into the Blue Room of the Piermont Hotel in no time at all. Over the open double door hung the banner, Class of 1991, Central High School. As we entered the room, we received a name tag, the number of the table where we would be sit, and a program. There was a band and a DJ, and the room was full of handsome men and attractive women. I was dying of nervousness and felt like a child with all those older people around me. All of a sudden, I thought, what would I say if someone asks me a personal question like did I work? Was I going to school? College? I think if I had one wish, I would have wished I was home in my room at that minute. Before I could get even more worried, Ed was introducing me to some of his friends.
"Tom Beth, this is Nick," he said to a couple.
They said "hello" to me, and I said "hello" to them. "Nick"; I didn't like that, but maybe it was a slip of the tongue. But it took a lot of pressure off me, knowing at least I could say "hello" to people. While Tom and Ed talked about school days, I looked at Beth. Trying not to be obvious, I wanted to study her makeup, dress, and hairstyle. I think she was doing the same to me.
Ed saw some friends and darted away, leaving me with Beth and Tom.
"You know Ed long?" Tom asked me.
"No, not long; he's the brother of my best friend."
Soon Tom joined Ed and his friends. "I understand you've been helpful to Ed," Beth joined in.
"Helpful?" I repeated, not knowing what she meant.
"You know, helpful in his Ph.D. in psychology. Helpful in his thesis on gender disorders," Beth explained.
I was thoroughly puzzled. "I'm not sure what disorders you mean?"
With that, Beth dropped the subject. "What school will you be going to?" she asked.
"I'll be starting Yale in the fall." Since I was pretending to be a girl, I thought I might as well pretend a little more. With that, I smiled, said, "excuse me," and walked over to our table in my most ladylike walk. I was glad to sit down and tried to figure out what was going on. Ed saw me and smiled, and his friends turned their heads to look at me. For over half an hour, Ed didn't even come over to talk to me or to introduce me to anyone, not that I really cared to meet anyone. I had a strong sense that I should be very, very angry with Ed.
By 7, the waitresses came out with the food, and people headed to their tables. My stomach was in knots as Ed returned with his friends and their dates. Ed sat down next to me. Ed introduced Jennifer and George.
"Ed's told us about you, that you're really a male," Jennifer said to me with a sneer on her face.
With that, all the other couples took notice of what I was going to say.
You all know that about me?" I said in a cracking voice.
"Yes," they all said or nodded.
"Hope you don't mind," Ed said, not even turning to look me in the eye. "It's just that, well, we all think it's cute, cute to be a guy dressed as a girl. And no one has ever met anyone like you, so here we are."
"Yeah," the guys joined in, laughing.
"Ed couldn't get much of a girl 5 years ago for the prom, and he can't get a real one now," someone said, and everyone laughed, including Ed.
I felt like I was hit by a sledgehammer and took a few minutes to regain my composure and think of what I would say, but I couldn't get any words out of my mouth, so I just smiled and said nothing.
Tom joined in. "Ed, you ole kidder, you said you'd bring a date to the reunion that was unforgettable, unlike your very forgettable prom date." I guess that was funny because everyone laughed. I could see that everyone was enjoying themselves at my expense.
Beth was kinda lovely. "Nick, don't feel bad. I think you're very pretty. And I'm sure everyone in this room envies your youth."
I just smiled at her. I must have looked like a fool with silly grimaces on my face as everyone looked at me, waiting for me to speak. I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come out.
All during dinner, everyone had lots of fun talking about themselves: their degrees, their children, their jobs, their bosses, their cars, and their houses. At least if they talked about themselves, they wouldn't be talking about me. I'm glad I didn't have to say anything because I'm sure I would just burst out in tears if I did. Anyway, I had enough to do to eat like a lady. Even though my stomach was churning, I ate and ate so I wouldn't have to talk. All during the meal, people spoke at the platform.
My mind was so numb that I couldn't remember their names even a second after being introduced. Finally, the speeches ended. The band started to play a slow dance song while the tables were cleared. One by one, a few brave couples got on
the dance floor.
I excused myself, saying I wanted to freshen up my makeup. Beth started to rise to go with me, but halfway up changed her mind and sat down. I left the table and found a corner of the room where I could dab away the tears welling up in my eyes.
I was glad for the compact in my purse and relieved that my makeup wasn't spoiled, my hands being too shaky to do any touching up.
By the time I composed myself, there were a lot of couples on the dance floor, including those at our table and Ed with the woman with short blond hair. I hated to go back to an empty table. Across the room, I spotted a bunch of guys at the end of a long bar; I walked over to them. I could see them follow me with their eyes.
"Ginger Ale," I said to the bartender.
One of the guys nudged his friend off his stool and patted it.
"Are you at the reunion?" he asked as I sat down with the group.
"Yes, but my date has found an old school friend. So I guess I'm kinda alone."
"So are we," he said. "We're losers without dates," he laughed along with his friends. "I'm John, I'm Jack, I'm Chris, I'm Bill."
"I'm Nicky. Nice to meet you."
"I don't remember you from our class," Jack said.
"I had total body reconstructive surgery after a terrible accident," I told them. "I used to be a male, but the doctors had to make me a female to save my life."
"Give me the names of those doctors. Yeah, me too," they all chimed in. "If I could look as pretty as you, I'd be a woman," John said with a slur to his voice.
"Anyone want to dance with me?" I asked. I never would have had this much courage, but the glass of Champaign during the meal loosened my tongue.
John hesitated, but his friends urged him on, pushing on his shoulder, saying.
"Come on, dance with her." Finally, he got up, and I took his hand and moved to the dance floor. I didn't recognize the song but knew I could dance to it. I pulled John closer to me, and he melted in my arms.
"Man, oh man, do you smell good," he huffed.
"Thank you."
I'm not a very good dancer," he muttered shyly.
"That's okay. I'll lead, and you follow," which is what we did. John was very pleasant but a bit lacking in self-confidence.
"Thank you for the dance," I said to my dance partner as we walked back to his friends. The band plays lots of slow songs, and for every slow song, one of the guys asked me to dance; or in some cases, I asked them. I never could get them to dance any of the fast songs. Each time I walked to the dance floor, I remembered to walk very feminine, one foot crossing the other with a sway in my hips and legs close together. I told every guy that he danced well, even though they all had two left feet. And I smiled a lot and tried to get my dance partner to talk about himself, which wasn't easy with them asking me lots of questions about myself.
All the time we danced, I glanced at Edward's table or around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Whenever I spied Ed or his friends, I swished my hair, smiled, and laughed with my new friends. Of course, secretly in my heart, I was dying when I saw Ed holding tight the pretty blond woman, dying when he was with his friend. I tried to put it all out of my mind and concentrate on having fun. I was going to have fun even if it killed me, and my feet were already killing me. All my new friends wanted to cuddle close to me as we danced, but I keep them from pressing hard against me, fearing they may suspect my body was not a woman's. But I loved flirting with them, smiling, cocking my head, flicking my hair as I talked, and shifting my eyes to meet theirs, looking away, and then again to them. Those guys sure must be losers because I really had them eating out of my hand.
The four fellows, drinks in hand, and I moved to their table. Soon the table was full of glasses. I didn't drink anything but soda, not wanting to trip and make a fool of myself. By eleven, my new friends had just about done themselves in. I excused myself, saying I had to go to the ladies room. I walked over to Ed and his friends.
With a big smile on my face, I said, "Thank you, Edward, for a wonderful evening" No matter how hard I tried to be cool, I still choked up. With that, I walked out of the room, out the front of the Hotel, and into a cab. At my house, I paid the cabby and tried to sneak in. Dad was still up and was anxious to talk, but all I said was that I got tired and left the party early. Of course, he knew something was wrong, but thank God he didn't force me to talk about it.
I tossed my clothes over a chair in my room and kicked off my shoes, which looked very ordinary now. Geez, everything seemed very ordinary to me, my life, my dress, my makeup, everything. I even put on my boy shorts and PJ's. I lay in bed, hating everyone at the reunion, including my four new friends, the drunken creeps. Then I determined not to have any feelings about them or anyone else at the reunion. Like who cares about them, I thought. Over and over, I thought about what I would say to Ed if I ever saw him again. I just knew that someday I'd have a chance to get even. I fell asleep rehearsing lots of possibilities.
By 7 AM, I was up. I hated to get up, and if I could, I'd told Sis that I was too sick to go to the pageant. It was 8 hours before we had to get there and 9 hours before the presentation began. Like a sleepwalker, I bathed and shampooed my hair.
Dressed in just panties, jeans, and a long T-shirt, I walked downstairs, clutching a hanky, more in a trace than alive.
Everyone knew something was wrong. I just went through the motions, and no one pried into what happened at the reunion.
Sis had the day planned like a pro. I couldn't eat, so Sis immediately went about setting my hair in rollers. In an hour, she finished. I'm sure Sis was talking all the time, but I didn't pay any attention to what she was saying. "Sorry, Sis, if I feel out of it, I didn't have a good evening last night," I told her.
"You were right. Ed's an ass.
I sat under Mom's big hairdryer. Sis said my hair would dry in about 2 hours. "Play that record that Dad likes, the one with Bonnie, what's her name, and turn up the volume."
Sis hunted for a minute before she found it. If those songs sounded sad the other day, they were murder today. But for some reason, when I feel sad, I like to feel even more painful, and I knew her songs would make me weepy. As the songs played, tears welled up in my eyes. I never thought that a guy like myself would ever cry over a silly game like pretending to be a girl who had a boyfriend.
"Are you sure you want to listen to that record?" Sis asked.
Over the hum of the dryer, I soaked in the words of each song. The last song hit home.
"You can please me; you can sweet talk and lead me on.
But believe me, it won't be long till I'm catching on.
Now you left me here with nothing,
and you put my love on hold.
Well, there must be something behind those eyes,
because I believed every lie, you told.
That ain't no way to treat a lady.
That ain't no way to treat a woman in love.
That ain't no way to treat a lady."
As the song played on, tears dribbled down my face and neck.
"So you leave me.
Well, I'm lonely and in despair.
It intrigues me how you don't really seem to care.
Well, I ain't here for nothing,
and my love doesn't come cheap.
I would hold you to all your promises
if I could find one you meant to keep.
You can tease me.
You can sweet talk and lead me on.
But believe me, it won't be long till I'm catching on.
For I ain't here for nothing,
and my love doesn't come that cheap.
And I would hold you to all your promises
if I could find one you meant to keep."
With the end of the record, I had cried my silly infatuation with Ed out of my life.
The record ended, and I called for Sis to turn it over. For the two hours, I sat under the dryer, listening to the songs over and over until I could almost lipstick the words. Mom came to pat me on the shoulder, and Dad came to say "hi," but I barely said a word to them. Sis stopped by, pretending to check to see if my hair was dry, but really to console me.
Finally, my hair was dry, and I left to wash my face. Looking in the mirror, I thought to myself, I'm still a teenage boy who makes a doll of a girl, and you, Ed, you're an old guy, a boring old guy, who has boring friends.
Sis decided to do my hair first to give me face time to heal.
Sis worked quickly but carefully as she unrolled my dry hair, carefully separating it from the rollers. I felt the now-familiar brushstrokes and her fingers guiding my hair into the set style. She built the wave in front with a comb, lifting up the hair and spraying it in place. The feel of my soft hair touching my face and body made me feel better. It seemed like in a matter of minutes, Sis had brushed it out and given it a final mist of hairspray. After she finished, I didn't rush to see myself in the mirror as I always did. I still wasn't feeling my old girl self.
In the living room, all the makeup and my clothes were laid out. Sis was steady as she put on my makeup. At least for this session, she didn't talk about what she was doing. The sensations of applying the makeup were all the comfort I needed: the hardness on my brow of the pencil strokes, the stroke of the eyeshadow brush, the tickle on my eyelid as she applied the fake eyelashes, the smoothing of the foundation, the curving of the lipliner, and the gliding and taste of the lipstick. All
those sensations were wonderful and helped to cheer me up.
"Finished, darling. You look like a million dollars; well, at least, two thousand."
"Thank you, Sis." I hope if we don't win, you won't feel disappointed."
"I'm not sure of our chances. After all, we'll be competing against some couples who have been doing this a lot longer than we have. And there's always some politics involved."
I took off my jeans and T-shirt and put on my black bra and sheer black hose. Sis helped me put on the dress. My spirits rose even more, when I saw it. The color is called midnight navy, but it was almost black, and it was advertised as a stretch cocktail dress. It had a slightly scooped neckline, and the top was covered with faux pearls and silvery rhinestones. There were really two skirts that slightly flared out at the waist; the top one was transparent and covered with white dots, and under it was a solid-colored skirt. The skirts were short, four or so inches above my knees.
I better not do any quick turns, I thought. Finally, my shoes, the shoes that I never got to dance with Ed in. At this time, Mom and Dad came into the room.
"Doesn't she look lovely, dear?" Dad said to Mom.
"Yes, she does," Mom answered him.
Sis was about to put on my necklace around my neck and fastened it in the back. Then she put on my earrings. Sis and I left early because there would be a brief rehearsal. Once we got to the Marietta Hotel, Sis ushered me into a dressing room.
Their many girls sat before a long countertop in front of mirrors, touching up their makeup and hair. While looking for a place to wait, I noticed a beautiful girl motioning me to join her on the couch.
"Hi, my name is Stephanie. What's yours?" The long-haired girl asked.
"Nicky," I answered in my best girl voice.
"My boy's name is Stephen. What's yours?"
I was stunned, not knowing if I'd heard her correctly. "Did you say your name was Stephen?"
"Why, yes. And what is your boy's name?" She repeated.
"Are you a guy?" I asked, looking into her eyes.
"Of course, all the contestants are boys. Didn't you know that? Mike, who we call Michelle; Tammy, Tommy, and John, who is called Julie. I know lots of the girls here. We play together a lot."
For a minute, I was speechless. She was beautiful with waves of long blond hair that hung down her back, flawless skin, a perky nose, and large almond-shaped blue eyes. And her makeup was perfect, as was her dress, a sleeveless black one with material over one shoulder and a slit on the side. "I wasn't sure if all of us
were."
"Oh, yes. That's one of the contest rules. Only boys from 13 to 16 in our group, the Young Teen Category. There's a Pre-Teen Category from 9 to 12 and an older group from 17 to 20, the Young Lady Category."
"How long have you been dressing like a girl," she asked.
"Just for a week."
"A week! You look very much like a girl for just a week. Mother dressed me like a little girl when I was 8, and I've never dressed as a boy since. And I've never had my hair cut since then, either, except to trim the ends."
I just couldn't believe it, not only that this girl was a boy but that nobody told me earlier that it was for males only. It seems everyone was playing tricks on me. "I guess you like being a girl," I asked.
"Yes, of course, but that's almost all I've ever known. Starting this week, I'm going to begin hormone treatment to make me more of a woman and in a few years.
I'm going for surgery to make me as complete a woman as I can be," the beautiful girl continued, "For me, this is my last contest. I was in a Pre Teen one but didn't win. I'm glad they had us dress up this year, aren't you?"
Instinctively I said, "I am too. Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked her.
"No, but I've had dates, but most boys don't understand me."
I stammered, being more interested in her than ever,
"If I was a boy, would you go out with me? I think you're really beautiful and special."
Stephanie hesitated. "Thank you, and you seem very nice. I know we'd have lots to talk about."
"Are you really a girl?" I asked one more time.
With a beautiful smile, she said, "Yes, of course. All the winners have to be examined by a doctor to be sure no drugs or surgery was used." For the first time that day, I felt like my old self, my happy self.
"Ladies, examination time." A woman (I think she was a woman) interrupted our conversation.
Everyone lined up in a single line, and I followed behind Stephanie. One by one, the participants went into a room and, in a minute, came out. I asked Stephanie what was happening, and she said a doctor was examining them. Well, I thought to myself, I know I can pass this exam, but by the time I was next to enter the room, my stomach was in my throat. I was so nervous. I entered the room. They're sitting on the stool was a man dressed in a white doctor's coat and a lady next to her who was obviously, a nurse.
"Hello miss, I'm Doctor Smithe," he said. "Nicky, is it?"
"Yes, doc."
The doctor proceeded to scrape the inside of my mouth with a stick, which he gave to the nurse.
"Now, Please take off your dress."
The nurse was very polite as she helped me undress.
"Now, please drop your panties."
Which I did reluctantly.
The doctor examined for a minute my male organ with his gloved hand.
"You can get dressed now," the doctor said in a matter-of-fact voice.
That's the easiest test I ever took. In a minute, I dressed and left the room.
After the last girl was examined, the woman told us to follow her. We lined up in the designated order at the corner of the stage and were instructed to walk to the man at the front center of the stage, the master of ceremonies. Here our sponsor would also be standing. Then we would be asked three questions, answer them, and leave the stage in the opposite direction.
When I heard my name, I did as we were told and walked to the MC. The MC called my name Miss Nicky Jamison. I stood for a minute, saw the signal to leave, and walked away.
Promptly at 5 o'clock, the program started. The MC announced the six judges who sat in chairs on the stage with their back to the audience. The MC continued with the contest's rules and explained that the judges would be scoring each contestant on poise, appearance, and girl-like qualities. The Pre-teen contestants were first.
I heard the MC announce in his soft melodious voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen, our the first contestant in the Pre-teen category is Miss Beth Johnson."
With that, Beth walked past the judges to the MC and her sponsor. "Beth is 9 years old and goes to Wilson Elementary School." Beth wore a cute pinafore and had her hair in bangs and curls.
When Beth got to his side, he asked her, "Miss Johnson, What is your boy's name?"
For a minute, she seems to have forgotten, then blurted out, "Richard."
"And who is your sponsor?".
"My mother," she answered.
The MC continued. "Beth, Why would you rather be a girl than a boy?"
Beth waited for the customary pause and answered,
"Because I like to go shopping with my mommy for pretty clothes and because my dad likes to comb my hair."
The audience applauded, and the next girl was introduced.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, our next contestant is Miss Theresa Smith. Miss Smith is 11 years old and goes to Washington Private School."
To applause, she walked to the center of the stage. Theresa wore a prairie dress and had her hair parted in the middle in two long braids. "Miss Smith,
What is your boy's name."
"William," she answered.
"And who is your sponsor?"
"My aunt, Kathleen."
"Theresa, why do you like being a girl.
"I would rather be a girl than a boy because my mother and I can do things together like shop and go to the grocery store and go to the beauty parlor. And I like to help her clean the house."
One by one, the 8 contestants were presented. They were all darling. The little boys were dressed in colorful dresses with petticoats and lace. Most had their hair in very girlish styles, long rope curls, braids, and fluffy curls, with bows or long ribbons. Of course, the audience loved them.
In no time at all, my group was next. I was so nervous that I couldn't remember any of our group's contestants or their answers except for Stephanie, who was the first one called in our group. I was next after Stephanie and waited just behind the curtain.
The rest of the girls were further away; I guess they didn't want them to have too much time to think of a good answer.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our first contestant in the thirteen to sixteen-year-old range, our Young Teen Category is Miss Stephanie Thomas." The people seemed to really like her because she got a loud hand of applause.
"Miss Stephanie is 15 years old and is taught at home by her parents. Miss Stephanie, what is your boy's name?"
"Stephen," she replied with a very cute smile on her face. Stephanie had a perfect girl's voice and a perfect girl's shape.
"And who is your sponsor?" "My mother," she answered.
"Now, Stephanie, for your age group, the question is, what experience have you enjoyed as a girl that you would not have had as a boy? Let me repeat the question, what experience have you enjoyed as a girl that you would not have had as a boy?"
Geez, I thought, this is a killer of a question.
After a pause, she answered, "Recently, my grandmother died, and I was able to be with her while she was very sick, and before she died, I was able to tell her that I loved her. As a boy, I don't think I could have said that to her." Of course, the audience loved her answer.
I was petrified as I waited for my name to be called, but strangely, as soon as I took my first step to walk to the MC, I felt very relaxed. I walked across the stage as I had practiced walking, and the audience seemed to like me because I got about the loudest hand of applause. "And what is your boy's name?"
"Nick," I answered calmly. My voice wasn't nearly as girl-like as Stephanie's, and I know my body shape wasn't as curvy as hers, but maybe that went in my favor. Perhaps little boys like me who dressed like girls excite people.
"And who is your partner?"
"My sister, Jean."
The MC continued as usual, "Nicky, what experience have you enjoyed as a girl that you would not have had as a boy?"
I smiled and poised myself, thought for a minute, and said, well, I didn't said what I had rehearsed for the last few minutes, the answer about how as a girl, I had learned to respect every person, male and female, and those in between, because everyone deserves to be respected for who they are. I cleared my throat and said.
"The experience that I most enjoyed as a girl was when I wore my first pair of his heel, the ones I have on today. Because I really enjoy wearing them."
And then MC asked me one very important question. "After this contest, will you dress up as a girl again, or it was for the last time,"
Ya, it was really tough to answer, what do I really wanted to be in my life, Nick or Nicky, but I was very clear with my mind about what I feel.
"It was very fun to dress up as a girl, but I think I like to be a boy than a girl, but lately I had started feeling something towards boys, maybe it was all false, as I was in girl mode. The truth is that I am very happy as a boy, but I like to dress up as a girl in the future; maybe things can change I can never predict.
I never felt so relieved in my life as I left the stage. I watched the other contestants, including some from the Young Lady category from the wing of the stage. Now these boys were really beautiful, prettier than most real girls. Everyone was a winner in my book; I don't know how a judge could pick the best one. Backstage I looked for Stephanie and found her talking and talking with her friends.
Finally, the presentation of the awards. All the pre-teens gathered on stage. The MC read the voting, and a 10-year-old named Melody worn the trophy and prize money.
Just like in the Miss America Pageant, the girls shrieked and hugged her.
Then our group came on stage. We crowded next to each other, some holding hands, which I didn't do. Sure I wanted the prize money, but I didn't want to win the contest. I'm not sure why, but I didn't. I think this group aroused the most interest in the audience, so everyone was on pins and needles.
The MC read the card, "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the Young Teen The category is Miss Stephanie Thomas." The crowd just loved her and applauded long and loudly. The other boy-girl contestants also went wild. They all seemed to know and like her. I would have hugged her, too, but couldn't get near her.
We left the stage, and while everyone was to remain until the closing ceremony, I had enough. I saw my parents and made my way to their table.
"Dad, Mom, Sis, can we go?" I whispered to them.
"Don't you want to see the closing?" Mom asked.
"No, thanks. I've seen enough."
With that, they got up, and we made our way to the car. Driving home, we talked about the contestants. I'm glad no one said how stupid my answer was. I think everyone was thinking, how could he have given such a dumb answer?
Finally, Mom said something in a roundabout way, "Nick, what do you think you want to do tomorrow? Would you like to go shopping for a new pair of high heels?
Finally, Dad, "Nick, there's a new dance studio in town that has a special price this week for lessons. You could learn some new steps and have lots of dance partners a lot younger than your old father."
"Let me think," I said. "Geez, guys, you're all taking this too seriously. After all, I'm just Nick. Remember."
The End.
Comments
J Chimera
You left out what a dirty, hurtful trick Nick's sister played on him by manipulating him into a womanless pageant without telling him up front, for her own selfish ends.
J Chimera
And so should Nick's sister for playing such a nasty, hurtful trick on her own brother. What a spiteful b****.
J Chimera
You didn't disappoint everyone, Urban. I think you did a very good job on this story, making it unique in being about a boy who is unsure about being a boy and who finds out through his experiences that he wants to stay a boy. I enjoyed the unusual twists you introduced as well. And frankly I think you ended it just right. A very well written story that touched me deeply in particular with his father's experiences and memories. Thank you for writing it.
J Chimera
I think Nick finding out his sister tricked him like that on top of what Ed did to him, was the "dash of cold water in the face", he needed to bring him back to reality and his true self. He really wants to be a boy but he doesn't rule out dressing up as a girl again at some future point. He also learned a valuable lesson about how other people, even family, will use you for their own purposes without any real regard for your feeings or desires.
Brianna Demonet
I hope Nicky wins next year.
Jessica Maddison
Wow..... so it seems Nick's sister knew all along that, the Contest was, for boys dressed as Girls. That was a surprise to me. Even though, there was hints, from the beginning of the Story. And I liked the ending, because some boys, don't want to be Girls ALL THE TIME.... Just some time's ...For FUN 💕
Julia Miller
Then leave her a message privately, and not here, since I don't like reading your negative criticism. If you think Urban's stories are so off the mark, there is nothing keeping you here, you can quit any time. And you are so critical, that if I call you out on it, you go running to Urban and complain that I hurt your feelings. Yes, I know about your messages to Urban complaining about me. We are friends remember?
Shane Olson
Urban
Hey Shane, I will try my best.
Shane Olson
Urban
Sorry to disappoint you guys. After reading these comments, I was feeling very emotional and was depress and crying, don't know why, maybe been on, HRT is really affecting my mood. Just what to say that writing a story needs time, imagination, emotion's to connect with the story but sometimes it does not happen, '(can't hit a home run every time I play). Hope you understand me.
Shane Olson
Wow.. another ok start with a weak ending in such a negative tone. I did actually use to enjoy your stories, but as of late you have in what seems as a downward spiral. I hope all is well for you in the real world..
Sandi Shore
Edward should be,.... punished. Or worse.
Brianna Demonet
Ed as an adult should have been more respectful. He's lucky i wasn't Nicky's dad. She handled her well. I for one am proud of her. Be your own person Nick.
Julia Miller
Maybe this ending wasn’t typical of Urban’s stories, but the reality is some guys may like cross dressing, but they don’t want to become a girl. Like Nicky said, she didn’t know if she would change her mind in the future, but she wanted to still be a boy. Nicky was treated so poorly by Edward at the dance. I would have felt like I was an inch high at Edward’s table, basically being displayed as a freak for everyone’s amusement. This could have influenced Nicky in feeling she would never be a real girl. Nicky was extremely interested in Stephanie, and maybe that is what influenced her decision as well, since it seemed she would love to date him as Nick. Nick also never displayed any signs of gender dysphoria, it was more like he was intrigued at the idea of dressing as a woman, but didn’t desire to become a woman. This story seems unresolved, but life always continues. I think had Urban wanted to do so, this story could have gone on for a few more chapters, but maybe she wants to concentrate on the “Working at a Boutique” story which can have some very intriguing plots if she wants to go there. All in all, this ending seemed sudden, but I am not the one writing these stories, Urban ended it the way she wanted.
Leslie Deana
It's nice that he seems to have gotten it out of his system. Not everybody should be going through the struggle if it's not for them.
TerI D
?
Laura OLacy
..opps... trying again! Darnit!! Lovely Lovely story.......right up till now. Not only crashed and burned but damned near broke my heart!💔
Clive hooks
You’ve ended the story ! Why. It had the possibility of being a boy to girl struggle. So disapointed.
