The Contest Beginnings

by Sarah Bayen

Part Fourteen

The Final Countdown

 

Tuesday morning; I woke still in something of a daze. As I lay in my bed, the ghost of my bra made itself felt across my chest, and its sister ghost, that of my skirt, flapped against my thighs. They distracted me a little from my dreams of kissing Anita, the fantasy that had taken up most of the night, and eventually, I decided to get up.

After breakfast, and a short walk to the station, I joined my friends in the train carriage, and my spirits soared when I was able to sit next to Anita. Feeling her so close after our intimacy the day before was wonderful, even though I was unable to publicly demonstrate my affection for her. She threw me a couple of wonderful smiles during the journey, while the conversation of Nikki, Sue and the others bounced around the carriage with no meaning for me.

We arrived at the station, and I half expected a repeat of the previous day, with Anita holding me back for another adventure as Sarah. I would have gone along with it too, so anxious was I to spend more time in her company. It did not happen, however, and we left the station, and proceeded to walk to school.

I shocked myself in my first lesson; as I sat down, I smoothed across my bum, straightening an imaginary skirt to ensure my imaginary knickers did not show. I blushed, and looked slyly around to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately for me, they hadn't, or at least, did not realise the significance of what I had done. It occurred to me then that this practice stuff was beginning to get to me; without really wanting to, I was behaving more and more like a girl. The day before it had been in the changing rooms, while trying on my new dress. Over the weekend it had been in idly trying on make-up and nail varnish of my own volition; now this! Much as it was delightful to the point of nirvana to be so close to Anita after so long admiring her from afar, I began to resolve to kill Sarah off as soon as the contest was over. If I spent any more time as Sarah than was absolutely necessary, I began to dread the effects it might have on my general behaviour. The only problem from my perspective was how to tell Anita that I wasn't going to be coming along on the girls' night out. She was looking forward to it immensely, and had even bought me a dress for it. I decided to leave the practicalities of how my refusal could be diplomatically put for later.

Eerily, the day was passing as normal. It was almost as if all the events since Saturday had not taken place. During the morning, there was no mention of Sarah from anyone. One or two people spoke to me about the contest, and John Ryder, the rugby player Anita had told me was entering, bragged a little about how he and Sue Freeman had made out because he had agreed to let her enter him in the contest.

Between lessons in the afternoon, Nikki brought me back to earth a little, by reminding me of my commitment to go back to her house after school, and wear my formal dress to the theatre; but all in all, it was almost as if Sarah had never been. Recess in the afternoon, however, was rather different.

I was walking along one of the long corridors in the school, minding my own business, when I saw Chrissie in the distance, with two of her chums, obviously terrorising some poor kid. I decided discretion was the better part of valour, and resolved to walk past them. Chrissie curiously had a very similar hairstyle to Anita's, a sort of blonde bob, but there the similarities ended. Chrissie was a good few inches taller, and thicker set. She and her mates, Janet and Jacquie, had boxed a younger boy in against one of the windows. She stood in front of him, with her arms folded aggressively, while they leant against the window frame on either side of the boy, blocking his escape.

Luckily for me, they did not notice me as I walked by. Chrissie resented my friendship with Anita, and was rarely able to let me pass her without some snide comment. They were all engrossed in their bullying however, and I got past them without being seen.

Suddenly I heard my name called. "Steve!" a strangely familiar voice called. I stopped in my tracks, reluctant to turn around. "Help me!" the voice continued.

I swallowed my cowardice and turned to face the group again. All four faces stared at me, the boy's anxious and pleading. It took me some time to recognise the face without make up and long blonde hair, but suddenly the realisation struck me; it was Lawrence. It was him Chrissie and her gang were bullying.

"Oh it's Anita's little lapdog!" Chrissie announced with a sneer, turning to face me. "I was hoping to bump into you." She turned back to Lawrence for a moment. "And if you don't want another slap, you'd best pull out of the contest, understand?"

Lawrence was shaking, barely able to hold himself up. He nodded meekly at Chrissie, while Janet and Jacquie leant menacingly over him. I could now see a red mark on his cheek, where I guessed one of them had planted some sort of blow. The three of them slowly walked towards me, with Chrissie, as ever, in the lead.

"Now then young Stephen," she began, manoeuvring to make sure I didn't make any escape. Frightened as I was, I decided to stand my ground, both for the sake of my honour, and to enable Lawrence to get away. Glancing over the shoulders of the advancing girls however, I saw that he was still sitting meekly on the windowsill, rubbing his hand against his injured cheek.

Quickly I turned my attention back to Chrissie, who was by now directly in front of me with her henchwomen on either side. "A little bird tells me you've agreed to do something rather silly," she sneered.

"I don't know what you mean." I replied, with as firm a voice as I could muster.

"Oh I think you do," she said, smiling at me. I could smell her perfume, strong and sweet. "You've gone and let Anita enter you in the Womanless Beauty Contest haven't you?"

I thought about what the best response should be for a moment, and opted for honesty. "Yes, so what?"

"So what?" she echoed. "He's asking so what," she announced to Janet and Jacquie, as if they might not have heard. They both shook their heads, tut tuting at my folly, "The thing is Steve," Chrissie went on, "I'd be much happier if you didn't enter. It's important to me to win this contest."

"It's important to Anita too," I pointed out.

She was taken aback by my comment for a moment, and then smiled again. "I'm sure it is," she said. "And what has she promised you to go in for it then?"

"Nothing," I replied. "I said I'd do it as a favour for her."

"A favour is it?" she went on. "I bet it's more than that; you've had the hots for her for ages haven't you?"

I felt myself blushing again, and paused for a moment before replying, "Not really."

"Oh I think you have," Chrissie went on. "Is that it then? You think the best way you can get into her knickers is by wearing them!"

I blushed again; how did Chrissie know I'd been wearing Anita's knickers, or had she meant the comment metaphorically? I shook my head. Chrissie was silent for a moment, considering her next move.

"Now look here Steve; if you want to get to know a girl a bit better, I'm sure I could help." She smiled at me again, looking down towards my groin, and pushing her breasts towards me. "You agree to pull out of this contest, and I'll show you a lot more than Anita ever would. She's a cold cow, frigid even; if you want to get to know someone hot, you should go with me."

Chrissie was a good-looking girl, and the thought crossed my mind for a moment about how it might feel to take her up on her offer. I also thought of the social éclat I could gain by dating her, she was popular enough to enable me to score a dozen peer group competition points by just talking to her. Loyalty to Anita, however, reasserted itself.

"No, that's all right thanks," I replied as steadily as I could. "I said I was going in for it, so I will."

Chrissie stared hard and unforgiving at me. It was obvious that she was not used to this sort of rejection, and was not pleased by it. "That," she spat, "would be a very stupid decision.
"Yeah," said both her henchwomen.

"And people who make stupid decisions often end up getting hurt," she added, prodding me in the chest with an index finger. We stared at each other for a minute or more, each implicitly daring the other to look away first. I was petrified; these were big girls, and although I thought I might just about hold my own against any one of them if it came to it, all three at once would almost certainly overpower me.

"Oh hi Steve!" came a voice from behind them. They did not part immediately, but a figure pushed itself between Chrissie and Janet, who was on my right. It was Liz Lee, the girls' athletics president, and, as Anita and Nikki had told me on Saturday, one of the judges for the contest.

Liz was seventeen, and the most striking girl in the whole school. She was tall, towering a good five inches over both me and Chrissie, with long straight blonde hair. She had swimmer's shoulders, as Anita had once described them to me, and looked as if she lived to run, and throw as well as swim. Like a lower ranking wolf in a pack, Chrissie gave way to the presence of this alpha female.

"I was hoping to catch you," she said to me, smiling. She turned to the skulking Chrissie "Have you finished with him?"

"For now," Chrissie snapped, and walked off up the corridor, signalling Janet and Jacquie to follow her. Lawrence moved quietly over to join us, having not moved at all during my confrontation with Anita's bane.

Liz turned back to me, having watched the retreat of Chrissie and her posse. "Are you all right?"

Blushing a little that she had found me being bullied by three girls, I glanced downwards shyly and nodded.

"Good," she went on. "I was a bit worried yesterday when you weren't at school. I thought maybe you wouldn't make it for the contest."

I looked up at her face. She was smiling still, and fixed me with her stare.

"No, I'll be going in for it."

"Good," she replied firmly. "I hoped you would. Anita told me she'd got you to agree to enter. I was really pleased."

I looked at her quizzically. Why should she be pleased that I was entering? She obviously saw the puzzlement on my face, and smiling went on. " I think you'll be really good in it. You'll look good in the school uniform, I'm sure."

"I don't know about that."

"He does!" volunteered Lawrence, from my side.

Liz turned to him and smiled briefly, before returning her gaze to me.

"I'm Lawrence Luce. I'm going in for the contest too," he added, seeming a little put out.

Liz looked at him for a moment. "Good" she said eventually, and a little dismissively. Her eyes returned to me. There was silence for a time, and I began to feel uncomfortable under this scrutiny. "Have you picked yourself a dress out for the formal round?" she asked.

"Well, yes," I responded, blushing, "but I probably won't need it."

"Why not?"

"Well I've got to get through the qualifying round first, and I don't suppose I will. There'll be plenty of people who look better than me."

"Oh I don't know about that," Liz replied softly, and smiling widely again. Her eyes ran up and down the front of my body, as if assessing my chances. "I've got a feeling you'll be one of the best looking girls there."

There was another awkward silence before she continued. "Still, we'll see on Thursday won't we? Do you know, it's funny really."

"What is?" I asked, trying to hide the tremble from my voice.

"I spent most of last year fighting to get people the right not to have to wear skirts, and now I'm doing my best to get people into them."

Liz had been instrumental in the campaign to allow girls to wear trousers to school the previous year. There had been some resistance to the idea from the school establishment, but after a few months of campaigning, she had pulled it off.

"I offered you the chance to wear a skirt back then," she went on, still smiling. It was true; as part of the campaign Liz had convinced several of the boys to wear skirts to school one day. She had asked me to join in as well, but I had ducked out. Most of the protestors had been in her year at school, two above mine, so although I had some sympathy with what she had been trying to do, I had decided that being the lone fourteen year old was too much for me. It was funny now that Anita had succeeded where she had failed.

Her eyes still pinned me against the side of the corridor, with Lawrence fidgeting by my side. "Still," she went on, "It's a matter of choice really. I never said girls shouldn't wear skirts, just that they should be able to choose. Now it's just the same for you boys isn't it?"

I nodded back, and smiled weakly, feeling embarrassed that I had refused her offer the year before, and still more that she remembered it.

"You were the only boy in your year I asked," she continued.

"I know," I replied, almost in a whisper.

"I thought you'd look good in a skirt then, and I still do." Her gaze held mine, and involuntarily, my hand moved up to smooth my ghost skirt, which I could feel against my legs.

"Well I've got to go," she said suddenly, breaking our rigid stares. "I'll see you both on Thursday looking your best then."

She walked off down the corridor with her confident stride, and her blonde hair hanging loose down her back.

"Wow," said Lawrence, moving closer to me. "You should do well on Thursday then, if she's one of the judges."

"What do you mean?" I asked, still blushing.

"Oh come on Steve!" he exclaimed, "She fancies you like fury!"

I blushed even further. "Don't be silly; she's two years older than me."

Lawrence smiled knowingly. "I'm not sure that makes a lot of difference."

There was silence for a moment, then I decided to turn the conversation to other subjects. "Anyway, how are you? I've not seen you since Sunday."

"Not bad," he replied. "I'm getting used to the idea of going in for the contest anyway; I don't hate my Mum or Tania any more."

"Good," I replied uncertainly.

"What happened to you yesterday?" he went on. "I looked around school for you, but Nikki said you weren't in."

"No," I replied. "I took the day off."

"Practicing?" he asked, knowingly.

I was reluctant to admit this, but could see now way out. I nodded.

"I got some practice in the evening," he went on, matter of factly. "I went over to Tania's house, and spent the evening there."

"Oh, good." I responded uncertainly. It seemed odd to me that two boys should be standing here in the corridor, talking about their adventures in skirts as comfortably as he seemed to want to.

"I was wearing Tania's uniform," he whispered, in a confidential manner.

"Yes, I thought that was what you meant," I replied, wondering how to make my escape from this stream of confessions.

"But I spent most of the evening talking to Maxine," he went on. I remembered how impressed he had been by Maxine's paintings in her room, and how it had been me who suggested he ask her for advice about his own.

"She's really good at art," he went on. I smiled in response, and looked at my watch as a preparation for my departure.

"And kissing," he continued, his eyes locking mine with a look of mischief in them.

"Kissing?" I echoed incredulously. "You mean you kissed her?"

He nodded, biting his bottom lip nervously. "Well more to the point she kissed me." He grinned, and shrugged his shoulders a little. "I didn't mean it to happen, but somehow it did."

"Honestly Lawrence, she's nearly four years older than you."

"I know!" he replied, enthusiastically. "I'll have to be careful won't I?"

I didn't know what to make of all this. Was he inventing the whole story for some strange reason, or could it possibly be true? I looked at him closely. He was shorter than me, and very slim built. His eyes were lively and blue, and his close-cropped blond hair did him less justice than the long blonde wig I had seen him in before. Surely Maxine wouldn't have fancied him, she was older and more sophisticated.

There was nothing in his look or demeanour that suggested he was lying. More to the point, he seemed to be looking to me for some sort of approval.

"Well, that's nice," I said, uncertainly.

He continued to stare at me. "Don't you think it's a bit," he hesitated for a moment. "Odd? You know, for an older girl to want to kiss me when I'm dressed as a girl myself?"

I thought about this for a moment. All my instincts told me of course it was bloody odd. Then my mind turned to the way Liz had been looking at me minutes before, and also to the snogging session I had had with Anita in the cinema. I shrugged. "Well, maybe, maybe not." I replied. "As long as you both enjoyed it, I don't see any harm in it."

"Really?" he asked eagerly.

"Really," I affirmed, forcing a smile to my mouth. "You should be able to go out with whoever you want; age isn't that important."

He seemed pleased with this. "And what about clothes?" he asked. I was entirely thrown by this, but decided to stick with my liberal philosophy.

"Clothes don't matter either," I went on, "You should wear what you like; and if a girl finds you attractive in something, then you should try it. It's only fair."

"Oh I'm so pleased you said that!" Lawrence enthused. "It's really been worrying me. Maxine just seems to love it when I'm in a skirt."

"Well she's not seen you in much else," I pointed out.

"No," he agreed. "But she told me how good I looked in it. I felt nice somehow to have her say that." His eyes brightened as he looked at me. There seemed no disassembling in him, but somehow I felt disquieted by our conversation.

"And what about you and Anita?" he asked. "How are you getting on?"

I was alarmed by this question. "All right," I replied, without commitment.

"It's obvious you love her," he observed, with concern showing on his face.

I scowled in response. "I don't know about that."
"Oh Steve you do!" he accused. "But I think you might be better off with Liz you know, she's more your type."

"My type?" I queried.

"Yes," he replied, then tilted his head to one side to consider how to explain the comment. "Anita's, well, she's more like us I suppose."

"Like us?" I continued, unable to think of any more sensible response than an incredulous echo.

"Oh I don't know what I mean really, " he babbled. "It's just that you and me, well, we're more like girls I suppose."

"I'm not like a girl!" I protested.

He looked at me with almost theatrical disbelief. "You know what I mean," he insisted. "Being with Maxine made me realise it in me. It's not so much being like girls, that was the wrong thing to say," he went on. "It's just that we've got," he hesitated. "Strong feminine sides."

I stared at him with mixed feelings. What was it that he was trying to say? He looked pleadingly at me for a moment. "I don't mean to upset you Steve. I'm sorry; forget I said it."

"No, it's all right," I said eventually. I thought about his new theory for a moment. "Maybe you're right, I'm not sure." There was still awkwardness in the air. "Listen, I've got to go now," I lied, "I'll see you later okay; and if you bump into Chrissie again, try and give me a shout or something."

He smiled. "Thanks. I'll see you tonight then, for the theatre?"

I hesitated before responding. "Yes, that's right."

"I'm looking forward to it," he said, brightening considerably.

I walked off in the opposite direction, and felt myself give a little shudder. Dressing in a girl's school uniform, and snogging Maxine certainly seemed to have got him in touch with his feminine side to a rather alarming degree. Still, I reasoned, if he was happy, who was I to argue with him? But what about me? Did I really have a strong feminine side, like he had suggested? Is that why I had agreed to let Anita enter me in the contest in the first place; let her keep me dressed as a girl all the previous weekend, and then let her take me for some retail therapy the day before?

I shook my head to try and clear the confusion. I needed to talk to Anita about all of this, but that was impossible. She was in different classes from me all afternoon, and I was due to spend the evening dressed in a peach gown at the theatre, while she and John had their date. I felt strangely alone.

The rest of the school day passed without incident. We filed out and down to the station to await the train home. I managed to find Anita, and by some pretence took her to one side to talk.

"What is it Steve?" she asked.

I was blushing, and stumbling over my words. "Do you think I've got a strong feminine side?" I eventually managed to say.
She looked a bit taken aback. "Well, I suppose so," she replied. "You certainly make a convincing girl if that's what you mean."

I grimaced, but pressed on. "But do you think I'm feminine anyway; when I'm dressed as a bloke?"

She considered this for a moment, and looked me over carefully as if to check. "Yes I think you probably are," she said eventually. I was crestfallen. "But don't worry about it, it's good!"

"Is it?" I asked flatly. The girl I loved had just confessed what Lawrence had made me fear. She thought I was feminine!

"Yes," she enthused. "It means you're sensitive, and caring, and stuff like that." She moved a little closer in a conspiratorial way. "And you don't always want to take the lead in relationships; you're happy for someone else to have a go as well, like yesterday in the cinema!" She smiled at me, and I found myself smiling at the memory.

"And you like that?" I asked.

She looked away suddenly, as if struck. "Oh Steve don't push things!" she exclaimed. "I told you yesterday, we've just got to take it as it comes. I love John, and," she stopped herself for a moment. "There's someone else who likes you as well."

I stared at her, and felt the pain of imminent rejection. She smiled at me. "Come on Steve, we'd best get back to the others. They'll wonder what we're doing over here, and you've got to get ready for the theatre when we get home."

She walked back off to join our crowd, and reluctantly I followed on some paces behind. I was silent on the journey back, still cogitating Lawrence's comments. I was sitting in a train compartment with Anita, Sue, Nikki, and three other girls; no boys. This was the norm for me, and until then I had thought of it as something of a coup. Girls liked my company, and I liked theirs; that had made me something of a jack the lad in my eyes; a ladies' man, even at fifteen. I flirted gently with all of them, Anita in particular, and had learnt how they thought, and how they responded to things.

Yet suddenly there was a new dimension to all this. Was I sitting in a carriage with six girls, with all of us feeling comfortable with the arrangement, because I was feminine? Is that why they felt okay with my presence, and I in their company? I wondered whether I should end the arrangement, and start travelling with boys; but that would mean no longer seeing so much of Anita, and I could not consider that.

I was still in turmoil when we reached the terminus, and began climbing off the train. Anita went off on her own for her date with the despicable John, while Nikki and I waited in the street outside for Tania to join us from another part of the train.

"Looking forward to tonight?" Nikki asked me, with a sly smile on her face.

I shrugged. "It'll be all right."

"It'll be good," she corrected. "I can't wait to see you in your dress again!"

There were still people from school spilling out, and I gave her an alarmed glance, trying to get her to be quiet. Fortunately for me, Tania and Lawrence appeared through the station entrance at that point, and we began the walk to Nikki's house before she could give any more of my secrets away.

As we walked along, Lawrence looked as if he wanted to talk to me. I managed to keep ourselves in our original pairs all the way back however. He had disturbed me enough already, and I certainly didn't want another deep and meaningful discussion of my feminine side.

We were hardly through the door of the house before Nikki dragged me up to her bedroom to get my make up done for the evening. Tania similarly captured Lawrence in the living room downstairs. She sat me down in a wooden chair opposite her mirror, and immediately went to work on my face.

She began by attacking my eyebrows with a pair of tweezers, pulling out stray hairs from the bottom. I protested that it would make me look odd even when I wasn't Sarah, but she pushed these protests aside and continued. Eventually she seemed happy with her work, and I chanced a look at myself. The thing I noticed most was the angry red of the newly bare flesh under my new look brows. Nikki assured me this would subside before the evening, although my concern was more to do with when I got home that night.

After this she began on the make up proper. I hadn't actually worn that much since Saturday, managing to be Sarah without cosmetic assistance. Nikki seemed determined to make up for this oversight now. I was smothered in a thick layer of foundation, leaving my skin feeling greasy and odd. She proceeded to blush my cheeks till they looked as if they had been slapped, like Lawrence's earlier in the day. She then moved onto my eyes. I didn't fancy a repeat of the horrible scratching sensation that had accompanied this on Saturday, so, remembering that I had managed to put some on myself that same evening with a good deal less pain, I volunteered to do it myself.

I regretted this almost straight away. Nikki went into ecstasy about my sudden enthusiasm for my feminine role, and kissed my forehead as she handed me the eyeliner pencil. With some reluctance, I leant forward to look at myself in the mirror as I applied the make up to myself. It took some time, but eventually I thought it looked finished, and Nikki congratulated me on my work.

She asked me if I wanted to do my own eye shadow as well, but I refused, deciding against any more displays of cooperation. The eye shadow seemed to take an age compared to Saturday. Instead of just using two shades, I was subjected to four different variants on the basic pink theme she had chosen, and the colour was spread further across my eyes than just on the lids. Eventually she finished, and forced me to look at myself.

I was surprised by the result. Together with the thinning of my eyebrows, and my own attempts at eyeliner, somehow my eyes now looked more feminine than ever. I turned my head from side to side to confirm this diagnosis, while Nikki beamed benevolently at my side.

Then it was on to the mascara. She stroked my lashes with the brush, carefully turning them up at the ends, and then did the same on the other side. Without pause, my lips were next. She carefully lined them with a pink pencil, making sure that the outline she drew was considerably bigger than my true lips, and then began to fill the gap with a pale pink lipstick. Eventually satisfied, she finished off with a foul tasting lip gloss that she told me would ensure that it didn't wear off.

At this point I glanced at the mirror in horror. Other than my short, rather untidy hair, a very sophisticated and profoundly feminine Sarah was looking back at me. I blushed, but under the profusion of blusher and foundation, to no visual avail.

Nikki then decided I needed another coat of mascara, and proceeded to apply it to me. Once she had done this, she produced something that looked like some medieval torture instrument. She explained that this was an eyelash curler, and to my dismay, clamped both sets of my eyelashes into it in turn. With a look of satisfaction, she told me to look at the effect.

I was mortified. As well as looking a good deal longer because of the colouring, my eyelashes, particularly the top ones, curled back up on themselves towards the line of my newly thinned eyebrow. I began to panic that I wouldn't be able to take all this stuff off at the end of the evening, but Nikki assured me that she had some effective make up remover that would preserve my masculinity for my parents.

Next Nikki decided I should have some nail varnish on my hands. I objected fiercely, but it seemed Anita had decided to tell her that I had tried some on myself already. This rather shot all my arguments against down, so I eventually held out my hand and allowed her to paint.

One by one my nails turned what I was told was a shell pink. She finished with one hand, and began on the other, taking immense care to ensure that the varnish went on smoothly, and did not run onto my skin. Just as I felt a sense of relief that this part of my preparation was over, she lifted the first hand again, and proceeded to apply a second coat as well.

At last it was done, but there was no respite, for Nikki immediately turned her attention to my clothes. I took off my boy's school uniform, and was handed a preposterously feminine pair of knickers, in nylon with a printed pattern of bright red lips all over them, interspaced with the word 'Kiss' in an elaborate script. On each hip was a large red bow, and a further one on the middle of the elastic at the front.

Chastely, I asked Nikki to leave the room while I swapped them for my boxers. There seemed little point in trying to resist wearing them at this stage. Once they were on, she came back in, and gushed about how much they suited me, how girly they made my bum look, and how nicely they hid my manhood.

I was still reeling from this onslaught when she produced the bra. It matched the knickers perfectly, and she eagerly strapped it around me, and fastened it. If anything it was tighter than any I had worn before, and the hard bits around the cups at the front dug painfully into my chest. She told me how nice it looked, and then proceeded to pad it out with socks – pink ones – from her drawer.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and saw what was now becoming the familiar sight of myself with boobs, albeit this time with red lips all over them. What was strange was that neither the sight nor the feeling was particularly strange after my experiences of the previous three days. In some ways it was almost like coming home to have breasts again. I was cross with myself for feeling this way, but could not deny it.

While I was looking at myself, Nikki appeared behind me in the mirror grinning, and holding a suspender belt. It too matched the knickers, and looking a little sheepish, Nikki confessed that she had bought me a matching set to make up for not having the bridesmaid's one. I didn't know what to say; after my shopping trip with Anita the previous day, I had a much better idea of how much money this must have cost her, and told her she shouldn't have spent so much. She just told me it was worth it to see me in them, and handed me the belt to put on.

Next of course came the stockings, which with some expertise I pulled up my legs and fastened. Nikki cooed about how lovely my legs were, and in spite of my protestations of innocence, thanked me for shaving them again. The dreaded dress was then taken from the wardrobe, and released from its plastic bag. She held it for me while I stepped in, and then carefully put the shoulders in place, making sure my bra was covered, before fastening the back.

Now it was time for the shoes. Nikki produced a really strappy pair in a colour to match the dress. The fastening was so complicated that I had to sit down and let her do it for me, as straps went over my instep and around my ankle. Once they were on, I stood up. They had a three inch heel, Nikki told me, which was rather larger than the boots I was used to, and I took some time to readjust myself. She made me pace up and down for a while, to check the length of my dress, and make sure I wasn't standing on the hem.

Satisfied, she told me I looked beautiful. It suddenly occurred to me that my hair was still its normal short and untidy self. Anita had taken my wig home with her the day before after our shopping and cinema trip, and I had a panic that Nikki expected me to go out to the theatre dressed as I was with a boy's haircut. She teased me a little by pretending that she had forgotten all about it, but then produced the wig from her school bag. Apparently Anita had given it to her that morning.

She sat me back down on the chair, and proceeded to fuss with the wig, brushing it through and through until it had a real silky look. She pulled two strands from each side of my head and tied these together at the back, then, taking a third strand from the back itself, made a tiny plait to hang down my back. She brushed my fringe down a little, and then slipped a shiny silver hair band behind it. I looked on spell struck as she worked. The last little bit of Steve had vanished, and a new even more sophisticated Sarah had taken his place. I marvelled at how elegant Nikki had managed to make me look just by simply changing my hair.

"Do you like it?" she asked me.

Unguardedly I replied, "You've made it look so different; it's beautiful." I nearly kicked myself for saying something so stupid. I had meant to say that it looked ridiculous, but somehow a different and more honest statement and filtered its way from my brain to my mouth. Nikki smiled in response. "Thanks," she replied softly.

We went back down to the living room, where the newly rediscovered Lucy was sitting demurely and wide-eyed on the sofa, listening to Maxine talking animatedly about brush strokes. He smiled at me as I entered. "You look lovely!"

I smiled thinly back. "So do you," I responded blandly. I was beginning to get concerned about Lawrence's enthusiasm for his feminine alter ego, especially after his comment that we were both more like girls earlier that day.

Nikki's Mum came over to look me over. "Very nice," she commented, smiling at me. "You really do make a lovely young lady."

I smiled back, out of politeness more than enthusiasm. Nikki proceeded to fix me up with some jewellery; a preposterously long pair of clip on earrings, that had long mock gold strands on them that dangled down onto my neck, and an assortment of rings and bangles. She wanted me to wear a necklace with five or six metal strands, but I refused, telling her I would rather wear my 'Sarah' one. I put it on myself, not without difficulty. It served to remind me of Anita, absent though she was. I felt myself dropping into despair, imagining her with John that evening. It seemed so unfair.

Once my jewellery was done, Nikki, Maxine and Tania went upstairs to get ready, leaving Lawrence and I alone in the room, while Mrs. Simmonds and Mrs. Luce went into the kitchen.

"Are you all right Steve?" Lawrence asked from the sofa, looking at me with genuine concern.

"Yes, I guess so," I replied.

"I expect you're missing Anita," he observed unhelpfully.

I looked away towards the window, and thought again of her, being driven off in a car by the ghastly oaf John. "Maybe," I responded.

"Your hair really suits you like that," he went on. "It looks beautiful. Are you going to wear it like that for the contest?"

"I don't know. It's up to Anita," I replied, curtly. It wasn't that I felt particularly unfriendly to him, but his newfound ability to undertake 'girly' talk was discomforting.

There was a silence for a time; then Lawrence broke it. "Have I upset you or something Steve?"

I felt suddenly guilty. It was hardly Lawrence's fault that he had somehow decided to go along with the flow of all of this. It was even worse for him; he was new to the area and the school, and his mother was a willing and enthusiastic sponsor of his journey into girlhood. I could sort of see why he appeared happier about it than I felt.

"No," I replied eventually. "I'm sorry, my mind was on other things I suppose."

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked me sweetly. I looked at him on the sofa, with his long blonde hair, eager blue eyes, and sweet pink dress. It was hard to see any malice in him, or to bare any towards him. Eventually I smiled.

"I suppose I'm just not used to all this girl stuff," I said, by way of explanation. "It just seems a bit funny for you to tell me my hair looks beautiful, you know, just a bit odd."

"I know!" he exclaimed. "It is funny isn't it? It's not the sort of thing I'd normally do. I'm sorry!"

He did look genuinely aggrieved about it. I thought about my inadvertent exclamation to Nikki about my hair earlier; it was easily done. "It's all right," I said, "No need to apologise."

He smiled eagerly at me. "Thanks; and it does look nice, really."

I smiled back. "So does yours. Listen, I don't want to be rude, but why are you suddenly so happy about dressing as a girl? You hated it on Sunday."

"I know," he gasped. "It's peculiar isn't it? I suppose it's Maxine that's made me change my mind a bit. She kissed me again when she got back from work you know, in front of Tania as well!"

I raised my eyebrows by way of response. "I think she likes me," he went on, "especially dressed like this. She more or less said so last night." His enthusiasm was unmistakable. I felt a little uneasy for him, it was quite possible that Maxine was simply playing him along for some reason. It seemed unnecessary to break his little dream however.

"That's good," I said, and that made him smile all the more.

"We spoke about it a bit," he continued, "she said that some people are just pretty, and some people are strong. It's a bit like being a girl or a boy, but sometimes girls want to be strong, and boys want to be pretty."

"That's interesting," I said, non-committedly.

"Personally, I don't think it's so much what you want as what you are. She's treating me like I'm really pretty, and I've never been so happy in my life." He stared at me for some sort of confirmation, and then added as an afterthought, "and I think I make her feel strong."

I was saved from the necessity of making a response by the return of Nikki, wearing a fairly plain pale lilac dress. I smiled at her, and told her she looked nice, which only produced a scowl. Next to come down was Tania, in a nice black trouser suit with a halter neck and a jacket. I felt a pang of jealously that she had somehow managed to get away with trousers while I was sitting there in a peach coloured dress.

Last to arrive was Maxine, who had somehow managed to get hold of a jet-black tuxedo, complete with dress shirt and bow tie. She seemed extremely pleased with herself, and Lawrence was almost over the moon with delight at her choice. It irritated me a bit; it seemed that she was determined to emphasise the femininity of the clothes Lawrence and I had been landed with, rather than 'be strong' as Lawrence no doubt interpreted it.

Before long we were off to the theatre in two cars. We parked, and took our seats in the little café for a pre show bite to eat. Nikki advised me mockingly to choose something feminine. That made me determined to go for something excessively butch, like a rare steak. Unfortunately it wasn't that sort of café; the butchest thing on the menu was quiche, and in the end I opted for that. Lawrence had some sort of salad sandwich, and we all ate our choices.

I decided I needed to go to the ladies before the performance began, and made my excuses and left. The toilets were up a flight of stairs, and it took some effort to climb these in my long dress and unaccustomed shoes. I managed it, however, and walked through the door, confident that I would not be recognised as a boy.

I found an empty cubicle, and did what I had to do. I came out to rinse my hands, and looked at myself in the mirror. I still looked sophisticated, classy even. I turned my head from side to side to make sure, and saw the long earrings bounce across my neck.

"Hello Sarah." The voice interrupted my thoughts, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Turning around, I saw first a multi coloured kaftan, and looking upwards, saw the last face I would have wanted to see; it was Sylvia.

"I thought you told me you weren't interested in the theatre," she drawled, smiling gently at me.

"I'm not," I stammered, "That is, not particularly."

"Well it should be a good show tonight," she went on. "One or two of my friends are in it you know." She looked me up and down appraisingly. "And is this the dress you decided to have instead of the one from my shop?"

"Yes," I hissed, looking for a way to leave. Fortunately for me, there were two or three other women in the toilet as well, so I was free from any fear of another assault.

"Well, I'm not sure it suits you as much," she went on, after some consideration. "You're such a lovely looking girl, pink suits you more than peach."

I blushed from my head to my toes. "I'd better go and rejoin my friends," I said, trying to get passed her. She did not move, and her hand moved onto my shoulder. She began fiddling a bit, fixing me with her gaze.

"Your straps were showing a little dear," she beamed. "There, that's better."

"Thanks," I piped, and managed to shuffle around her, and head for the door.

"See you soon; at the interval perhaps!" she shouted as I rushed. I got out of the toilet, and had to lean against the wall for a moment. Of all the people to meet here, she was the one who would have disconcerted me the most. I managed to compose myself fairly quickly, not least because I knew that if I lingered, Sylvia would herself come out of the door and see me again. I scampered a little quicker than was ladylike back down the stairs to the restaurant.

"You took your time!" Nikki told me, as I returned. "The curtain goes up in ten minutes."

"Well you know what girls are like!" Maxine put in, smiling widely as I blushed. Lawrence beamed at the supposed wit of her comment.

The show itself was of little interest to me. I sat between Nikki and Tania, fairly uncomfortable in my long dress. Everyone was bewildered at the interval when I refused to go down to the bar, saying I preferred to sit where I was. There was no way I was going to risk bumping into Sylvia again, even in the safety of such a large number.

The second half of the show was no more inspiring than the first. I found myself nearly drifting off to sleep more than once, as the heat of the theatre got to me. At last it was over, and as the applause drifted away, and the lights came up, I noticed from the corner of my eye Lawrence delicately disentangling himself from Maxine, and trying frantically to put his hair back into place. It appeared as if nothing else, him being kissed by Maxine was no fantasy.

We drove back to Nikki's house, and I immediately began pressing for help to get back to being Steve. There seemed total indifference from all parties to this request. Lawrence, it appeared, was quite happy to go home as Lucy, and my desire to become a boy for my journey home was nothing but an irritation. Irritated myself, I went upstairs, and managed to struggle out of the dress and underwear, and put my school uniform back on again. I removed my wig, but still was fully made up, and my nails were varnished.

I returned downstairs to see what help I could get. Nikki, Tania, and the two older women were chatting away in the living room. Maxine and Lawrence, it appeared, had gone upstairs to look at more of her artwork.

"Oh Sarah, you look horrible!" Nikki said by way of greeting. I still couldn't interest anyone in removing my make up or nail varnish, and the time for the drive home was nearing fast. Eventually, I went to the bathroom, and managed, with soap and water, to remove most of the make up.

I dabbed my face dry, and returned to the living room. Mrs. Luce was standing, holding her car keys. She had volunteered to drive me home, and was now waiting for Lawrence to be extricated from Maxine's bedroom.

"What about these?" I blurted, waving my polished nails at Nikki.

She simply shrugged. "They look good to me."

"You said you had some varnish remover," I reminded her.

Sighing martyrishly, she went upstairs, and came down with a box of wipes, which I snatched off her quickly, and began rubbing at my nails. I had hardly begun, when a sheepish looking Lawrence appeared, and we were rushed off to their car. I continued the process as we drove along.

"Did you two enjoy yourselves tonight?" Mrs. Luce asked from the front seat.

"Oh yes!" Lawrence replied enthusiastically. "It was really good!"

"And do you both feel more at home in your dresses now? That was the point of it all, after all."

"Yes Mum," Lawrence responded brightly. "I like it; it's nice."
"Good. And what about you Sarah?"

"The name's Steve," I mumbled darkly, still trying to see if I had removed all traces of the nail varnish in the dark.

"Well whatever; do you like your dress now?"

"I wouldn't say that," I replied. "I don't think I'll ever like wearing a dress; but I suppose it was useful to get used to how it feels." I conceded.

"Good!" she said brightly. "This contest thing has been really useful in getting Lawrence and I accepted in town," she prattled on. Lawrence looked sideways at me, and raised his eyes to the heavens. "And the Simmonds are such nice people. It's difficult, moving to a new town when you're a widow."

Not long afterwards we arrived at my house. I thanked Mrs. Luce for the lift, and walked through the door. I was late, but I had forewarned my parents that I would be, and to my relief, I discovered that they had already gone to bed. Locking the doors, I did so too, and went to sleep quite quickly. My dreams were disturbed only by the lurking figure of Sylvia, who followed me through a range of adventures that night.

Next morning I woke a little late, and ate a rushed breakfast. To my horror, my Mum noticed my newly tidied eyebrows. I had to make up some story of wanting them to look tidier, but she didn't seem particularly convinced by this. She did not press the point however, which was something of a relief.

I sat next to Anita on the train ride in. "Did you have a good evening last night?" she asked me, smiling.

"Yes," I replied, and after a pause added. "Did you?"

"Not really," she told me. "John was being a right pillock. All he wanted to do was stay in watching telly again. God, he's like a forty-year old man!"

My heart sang at these words; again John had disappointed Anita, which by anyone's reckoning, must have improved my chances.

"I tell you," she went on, "I can't wait until Saturday and the chance to have a proper night out!"

My heart fell again. How was I going to tell her that I didn't want to take part in a girls' night out without sounding as boring as John? I decided that could wait a while, as the journey continued.

The first shock of the day was that school was going to end at 12 noon. Apparently they wanted to use the afternoon to prepare everything for the festival. This had apparently been announced on Monday, when Anita and I had bunked off, so it was news to us.

"Oh but Steve that's brilliant!" she enthused, as we left the hall where the announcement had been made. "We can go straight around to my place after school and get some more practice done!"

"I think I'm practiced out," I protested.
"Of course you're not!" she went on. "Anyway, we need to test you out on the questions.

"Questions?" I asked.
"Yeah, don't you remember? In the final you'll be asked some questions by the judges, and you'll be marked on how girlishly you answer them!"

I had forgotten this additional bit of torture, but I still wasn't enthusiastic about spending more time dressed as a girl. "Well I suppose I'll be able to do that without having to wear a skirt," I said, trying to make it an observation rather than a request.

"Oh don't be silly Steve," Anita responded. "You have to do it dressed as a girl. The more practice you get the better, remember."

"For God's sake Anita," I blurted, "I must have spent more time dressed as a girl since Saturday than I have dressed as a boy."

"I know!" she responded quickly. "It's good isn't it?"

"Well maybe," I went on, "But I don't think I need any more practice now. I must be nearly an expert!"

She looked at me with disbelief on her face. "I don't know about that," she said. "I've been dressing as a girl for fifteen years, and I don't think I'm an expert yet."

She simply wasn't getting the message. I decided to try another tack. "Look," I said, "You know you said it made you feel kinky kissing me when I'm dressed as Sarah?"

She looked around us, to see if anyone was listening, and reassured, turned to me and nodded.

"Well," I continued, "I thought perhaps if I was dressed as Steve this afternoon it wouldn't feel as kinky."

She looked at me quizzically for a moment. "Nikki will be there as well," she said eventually, and my heart plummeted to new depths. The only solace I had been taking from this final practice session had been the potential to explore my relationship with Anita even further.

"Oh, I see," I said flatly.

"Well she's in on this as well you know," Anita admonished me. "She is your co-sponsor after all."

I turned away. There was going to be no repeat of the heaven I had been taken to in the cinema, not that afternoon anyway. Perhaps I should refuse to go at all, I wondered, but the lure of time in Anita's company was too much for me, and I simply smiled.

We had lessons that morning, and walking between them, I was suddenly accosted by Chrissie for the second day running. She was on her own this time, which was some relief, as I felt less threatened by her alone.

"Hi Steve!" she said brightly, moving towards me with her hips swaying. "I thought I might bump into you here." She then proceeded to do so very literally, and provocatively. "I wondered what you were doing Saturday?" she asked me, still rubbing herself against me and making me back against the wall.

"I'm going out," I replied.

Her face fell into an affected pout. "Oh I'm sure you could call whatever it is off couldn't you? Me and you could do all sorts of interesting things together." She put her hand on my shoulder, very gently, and began massaging it. "All you'd have to do is throw another sicky tomorrow, that's not so very difficult is it? Not for a handsome and resourceful lad like you."

She looked at me seductively and pleadingly. Her perfume was as strong as the day before, but, even through the fog of lust, I could sense her insincerity. "No. I told you yesterday Chrissie, I promised Anita I'd do it, and I will."

She pulled back immediately, and the smile and seduction left her face in an instant. "Anita's little lapdog!" she sneered. "Or Anita's little Cindy doll I should say. Do you like it when she makes you put on her knickers? Does it make you feel really nice?"

I blushed furiously. "No," I responded.

"Oh I bet it does!" she went on triumphantly. "You just love it when she makes you wear her knickers, because you're a fairy aren't you?"

"No," I replied, more insistently.

"Anita's little fairy!" she went on. "Unless you pull out of the contest tomorrow, I'm going to tell everyone how you begged her to let you wear her knickers; how you begged me to let you wear mine first, and then asked Anita afterwards when I'd called you a pervert!"

"That never happened!" I gasped.

She raised her eyebrows. "My word against yours then! My word against Anita's little fairy's!"

"Don't Chrissie," I pleaded, seeing my credibility in the school about to vanish. "It's not fair."

She stared at me levelly. "Well you know what to do if you want me to keep quiet; tell Anita she can stuff her knickers where the sun doesn't shine!"

I flinched and closed my eyes for a moment. I couldn't betray Anita like that, even if it meant having my name trodden through the mud. Then it occurred to me; I really would be wearing Anita's knickers for the contest! That would be proof enough for Chrissie's story, if anyone saw them. I might be able to hide them well enough when I was wearing the skirt or the dress, but we had to get changed first, and all the other contestants and their helpers would see for certain what I was wearing.

"So what's it to be, little fairy boy?" Chrissie went on. "I tell you what, if you're so much into wearing knickers, if you pull out of the contest, I'll buy you some of your own. Then you can wear them all the time!"

My mind was in turmoil, and I was on the point of at least saying that I'd give it some thought, when I looked up the corridor, and saw the unmistakable figure of Liz coming along towards us. Chrissie followed my eyes, and saw her too.

"Oh it's your knight in shining armour again isn't it?" she sneered between her teeth. "So you're not satisfied with being Anita's little fairy boy, you've got to be Liz Lee's maiden in distress as well haven't you?"

Liz, by this time, was beside us. "Hi," she said brightly, looking at Chrissie with a hint of warning in her eyes. "Looking forward to the contest tomorrow are you?"

"Yes," I said, relieved to see her. Chrissie merely scowled.

"I see you've put a contestant in as well Chrissie," Liz went on. "That's good. The more the merrier, that's what I say."

Chrissie glared at her, but Liz showed no signs of moving away. She turned to me with fire in her eyes. "Think about what I said," she spat, and then walked off up the corridor.

Liz beamed down at me. "That's the second time in two days I've had to rescue you," she said, amiably. "It's getting to be a bit of a habit isn't it?"

"Yes," I replied meekly. "Thanks."
"It's fine," she continued. "I've heard that Chrissie has been trying to talk some people out of entering the contest. I'm not having that, especially with star contestants like you."

I looked up at her, and the freckles on her face. "Star contestants? You shouldn't be saying things like that when you're one of the judges."

She smiled even wider, and shrugged. "Well we all have our favourites. But I promise to be fair, even with you. Anyway I've got a vested interest in who wins if you must know."

I looked up at her again, her face framed by her blonde hair. "Why's that?"

"Because I get to escort the winner to the dance in the evening!" she told me. "I'm looking forward to it, especially if the right girl wins!"

I found myself blushing again, and tore my face away from hers, trying to understand the strange fluttering feelings going on in my chest as she talked to me. "Well there are lots of good looking people going in for it. You'll have plenty of choice." I managed to say at last.

"Well we'll see," she said, still smiling. "Now, I'd best get on, and make sure Chrissie doesn't try and do any more damage. I'll see you tomorrow, looking your best!"

I leant against the wall for some time, trying to recover my composure, before I could walk on to the next lesson. Maybe there was something in what Lawrence had said. Liz did seem to be paying an unusual amount of attention to me. She had spoken to me before, and not just to try and get me to wear a skirt as part of the uniform protest, I remembered. More than once she had stopped me to tell me about her sporting triumphs. I had assumed in the past that she had simply been bragging; every single one seemed to involve her winning, whether it was swimming, running, the javelin, or more recently soccer. It scarcely seemed credible to me, however, that someone like Liz might be interested in me. There were one or two rumours about that she was a lesbian, but I put these down to disappointed suitors whom she had turned down, or a general dislike of girls who were good at sports. No, it was impossible. There was no way she really liked me, other than as a friend. She was just making sure that the contest went of well. I shook my head in wonder that I might have thought otherwise, and got on with my day.

At midday we were all sent home. I travelled back with Anita and Nikki to her house, and almost as soon as we were through the door, I was cajoled into becoming Sarah the schoolgirl again. I put on the wig, the bra and the top, and then the skirt. This was becoming the accepted way of me slipping into knickers without revealing anything to my friends. I picked up the familiar white knickers with their pink love heart and hesitated.

"Anita," I began. She turned to look at me. "I was thinking. Tomorrow, when I get changed for the first round, there's going to be all the other contestants in there with me isn't there?"

Anita looked at me with a puzzled look on her face. "Yes, I suppose there will."

I bit my lip, feeling a sense of betrayal as what I was about to say was so influenced by Chrissie. "Well if I put these on then, everyone will see that I'm wearing girl's knickers; and a slip for that matter."

Both Anita and Nikki looked at me. It was obvious from their faces that they did not share my dread of the rest of the school knowing that I had allowed myself to be put into girl's underwear as well as a skirt.

I pressed on. "Well I didn't really want anyone to know I'd be wearing girl's knickers," I went on petulantly. "Perhaps we ought to drop the idea."

"No!" they both exclaimed. "We can't do that."

"Well my life's going to be impossible if anyone sees me putting them on," I went on, in something of a whining tone. "I'd really feel more comfortable if I could just stick to my boxers."

"Well that's a ridiculous idea!" snapped Nikki. "We went through all this on Saturday; it's essential that you wear girl's knickers."

"Yeah," agreed Anita. "Anyway, you've been wearing them on and off since Saturday anyway. What's suddenly brought this on?"

I blushed at the memory of my confrontations with Chrissie. "I just thought about how I'd be getting changed tomorrow morning," I lied.

They both looked at me in disbelief. Then Anita said, "Well I tell you what, as you're so worried about it." I held my breath, wondering what she might suggest. "Why don't you take them home with you, and put them on before you get to school. That way you can just put the skirt on over your trousers, then whip the trousers off, and no-one will be any the wiser."

"That's an excellent idea," Nikki put in. I cringed. I had seen this as my last chance to salvage something of my masculine pride from the whole affair.

"What about the slip?" I continued.

"Well you'll just have to put up with that," Anita told me. "I'm certain you won't be the only contestant wearing one, Lawrence will for a start."

"Yeah," agreed Nikki.

I was sunk again. My efforts to avoid the most feminine of my garments for the contest had been far too late, and far too feeble. All I could hope for was that everyone else would be too occupied with their own outfits to notice what I was putting on. Thinking about it, Anita's suggestion that I put the knickers on before I left for school wasn't so stupid. With a bit of care, I could avoid showing those off, particularly if I wore both pairs and the tights under my trousers.

"All right," I said resignedly. "I'll take the knickers home with me, and the tights. I'll put them on before we start."

"Good idea," Anita agreed. "Now, let's think about what sort of questions they might ask, and how you should reply."

We spent the next few hours going through possible questions, and what my responses should be. It emerged that my greatest ambition was to be a model, and failing that, to work with children and animals. My greatest hope was that there should be more love in the world, and less war; my favourite men were tall and strong, and my favourite activities were shopping and partying.

I was still being briefed when Anita's Mum arrived back. I cursed my luck. I was now stuck with the difficulty of turning from Sarah back into Steve without her knowing. We eventually decided the best way of achieving this was to go home via Nikki's house, in the pretence of sharing homework together.

When we got there, Lawrence was in, dressed the same as me in the girl's school uniform. He looked a little lost, as Maxine was not back from work yet, but still managed a smile. I rushed upstairs as soon as I could, and changed from one school uniform to the other, made my excuses, and went home.

Fortunately, because I had missed the message about the school being closed that afternoon, my Mum didn't notice that I was late. I went up to my room for a while, took the knickers and tights out of my bag, and hid them in one of my drawers, shuddering at the thought of having to put them on again the following morning.

I ate dinner, watch some television, and went to bed fairly early. I slept well enough, dreaming only of Liz and Anita having a javelin-throwing contest, while I sat at watched them wearing my peach dress.

Tomorrow, I told myself firmly, would be the end of Sarah. I could put the whole episode behind me, and return to being a normal fifteen year-old boy. How wrong I was!

  

  

  

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