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A Different Kind of Prom, Part 2
Copyright 2001

by Czolgolz
czolgolz@yahoo.com

The next two weeks I was in heaven. Even though we lived a good distance from each other, Brenda insisted that we see each other several times a week. I called her every night. At first I was afraid that I was harassing her, but she would frequently tell me how nice it was to be remembered. Andy had rarely called unless he wanted something.

It was hard to define our relationship at that time. We were friends, that was for sure. But were we more? Brenda would introduce me as Robert. She never implied that we were linked romantically, but at the same time, she never denied it. When we'd run into her friends at the movies or restaurants, it seemed to me that they would assume I was her date.

We never did much physically. She'd kiss me goodnight, but would never let me go further. "I'm just not ready for that yet," she'd say, apologetically. I was patient. Brenda wasn't a tease, I knew she just had to work things out in her head before she could move on. As for me dressing in her clothes, she never mentioned it again.

It was right before senior prom I decided to step up my efforts to make her my official girlfriend. I knew that prom constituted a real date, but I figured I should at least ask her. With Andy out of the picture, she just might say yes to me.

I was bumbling and awkward when I asked, but I managed to blurt out that I'd like to accompany her to prom. She giggled, then kissed me. "I was wondering if you'd ever ask me. Yes, of course I'll go."

I was walking on air all that night! Prom with the girl of my dreams! For once I wouldn't be a nerd! We'd walk into the prom at her school proudly. I'd be there with the prettiest girl on the dance floor.

I didn't mention my achievement to anyone that night, out of fear I'd jinx things. It was a good thing, too. The next night, she called me up, in tears.

"I have to talk to you, Robert. I'll come pick you up. I don't think we can go to prom."

I managed to bite my lip until she had picked me up and we'd pulled out of the driveway. "What's wrong Brenda?" I asked, concerned. She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled the car over to the side of the road and began bawling.

"What? What is it?" Even before she said anything, I knew somehow that Andy was to blame.

She handed me a folded piece of paper. "I found it in my locker today."

'Dear Brenda,' it read.

'I heard you think your (sic) going to prom with another guy. NO WAY! I swear to God that any guy who so much as holds your hand at prom it gonna get his face smashed in. I'm gonna be there ready to pound whatever geek you take. You go with me or you don't go!

Andy'

I was stunned. I knew Andy had taken it badly, but this?

"I'm so sorry, Robert. We can't go, he'd kill you."

"We'll just go to the prom at my school." I felt sick to my stomach. I could only imagine what would happen if Andy decided he wanted to beat me up. He was twice my size!

"He'd just follow me. I'm sorry, Robert, but I can't let anything happen to you. You're too special. We'll just come to my place, play Monopoly "

NO! By God, no! I may be a scrawny shrimp, but I'd be damned if I was going to have Brenda sit home on prom night because I wasn't as manly as Andy.

Brenda had plunged her face into my shoulder and began sobbing harder. Gently, I took her chin in my hand. "Brenda, I'm taking you to that prom." She tried to interrupt. "Don't you see? If you don't come, he'll win! Do you want that? Him controlling your life? I'm willing to stand up to him. I don't care if he is bigger, I'm not going to let you get pushed around." There. I said it. Let's see, blood type, B+, no allergies, I guess I should will everything to Mom...

Brenda stopped weeping. "Why would I think you'd ever abandon me, Robert? But I'm not letting you go. I'm not exaggerating when I say you'd wind up in the hospital."

"I'll take the risk." Gulp.

"No. He'd pick a fight with Mike Tyson if I showed up with him. There's no one he wouldn't pound, except maybe..." she stopped short. Sitting up straight, she wiped her eyes and looked at me.

"What?" I was afraid she'd remembered a macho friend who she could go to prom with.

"Robert, you really did make a convincing girl the other day."

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "You said you weren't going to bring that up."

"I'm sorry. But well, you did. It was really hard to tell you weren't a guy. And I was just thinking, Andy wouldn't hit a girl."

I instantly saw where she was going with that. "No way," I stated.

"Hear me out. If I made you up pretty enough to pass for Roberta, you could still be my date! I'll tell everyone at school what Andy threatened to do. Everyone will expect him to pound whatever guy I go with. Then, when I show up with a woman, he'll look like an idiot. All psyched up to beat someone up, and he won't be able to do anything!"

"No way. I'm showing up in a tux, not a gown."

"Then I'm not going. You've a braver man than Andy, but that won't do you any good in the ER."

"You must think I'm a real sissy." I was bitter.

"Jesus, do you men ever listen? You're willing to stand up to a guy twice your size, just to protect me. You're three times the man Andy was. But facts are facts and you'll get hurt. Maybe you could just put aside your pride a bit and take me to that prom." She snuggled against me. "I'll even let you lead."

I didn't now weather to laugh or cry. "What will people think? You dancing with a woman, I mean."

"Who cares? I could just get a female friend to go with me, but I'd rather go with you." She flipped my hair.

"Promise no one will recognize me?"

"You won't recognize yourself."

"Then...Christ, the things I do for you."

She pecked my cheek. "Better you should concentrate on the things I'm going to do with you." She licked her lips and started the car.

The next day I showed up and Brenda's house to go shopping for gowns. The indignity of it! A seventeen-year-old guy getting ready for prom by going to a formal dress store! Still, I was doing it for Brenda. It was a chance to make her safe and to show up Andy. But I much would have rather been big enough to stand up to Andy, not small enough to fit into a dress.

As usual, Brenda's parents weren't home and we'd have the whole place to ourselves. When I rang the doorbell, I was both surprised and pleased to see that she was wearing a towel over her hair, another one around her torso, and nothing else. "Hi, Robert. Sorry, I'm running a little late. C'mon in."

Trying to focus on her eyes, I followed. I thought about asking to borrow her towel, a la Chevy Chase in 'Fletch', but lost my nerve.

"I'll be dressed in a minute," she said as she ducked into the bathroom (don't put yourself out on my account). "In the mean time, why don't you go to my closet and pick something out to wear."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't very well take you to a women's clothing store as Robert, now can I?"

"Hang on, I never agreed to this! Can't you just pick a prom dress out for me?"

"Nope. They have to do measurements and such."

"What if someone I know sees me?"

"Don't worry. I'm taking you to a place that you couldn't um that I doubt you've been to."

"You mean, too fancy for me to afford, right?"

She stuck her head out of the bathroom, a guilty expression on her face. "Yes. Sorry."

That was always a point of awkwardness between us. Brenda had a new car, nice clothes, a big house. I lived in a tiny house, wore non-name brand clothes, and didn't have a car. Ever since Dad had run out on us, Mom had struggled to make ends meet. I still had no idea how I was going to afford college.

I slunk into Brenda's room and poked around in her closet, trying to find the least feminine things I could fit into. As if reading my thoughts, Brenda shouted from the bathroom "And no slacks or T-shirts. You have to look authentic, OK?"

I ignored her. I was already wearing a pair of her pants and wasn't going to change again. The pants had fit, much to my shock. Though Brenda was skinnier than me, she had much wider hips, enabling me to slip inside them. I then began searching for a top.

"Here, let me give you a hand." Brenda had returned, dressed in a pair of cut-off shorts and a T-shirt. Even dressed as sloppily as that, she seemed to exude femininity. I knew it would take a lot of effort to make me look half that good.

Brenda handed me an athletic bra. "Just slip that on. After I stuff you, no one will suspect anything if a clerk or someone should get a glimpse of you while your changing." I gulped. If anyone ever figured out my true gender, I'd have to leave town.

After Brenda had given me a nice pair of boobs (this time made up of nylon stockings stuffed with socks) she handed me a top.

"Brenda, I can't wear this!" I gasped, as soon as I had it on. "It doesn't go all the way down!" My freckled belly showed, just a little, between the shirt and pants.

"That's the point, silly. You're so skinny, you look cute in a midriff baring number. Like a red-headed Brittany Spears!" I blushed crimson.

"Now don't get like that," said Brenda, putting her arms around my neck. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Nothing to be ashamed of? It's not even prom night, and already I'm looking like a girl! Maybe we should just call this off."

Brenda placed her mouth very near mine. I could feel her breath on my face. "Robert, do you like being my boyfriend?" I gasped, inwardly. She had said it! We were a couple. I nodded.

"I like being your girlfriend. And do you know why? Because you go the extra mile. You do things for me no other guy would. And after prom, I'm going to show you just how grateful I am." She slapped my butt. "Now no more whining. Let me do your makeup."

When Brenda had made me up that first night, it was sort of a half-hearted job; she hadn't expected anyone else to see me. Today, it was different. Going to a store, even an exclusive private one, required me to look like a seventeen year-old girl.

"This might take a while," said Brenda when she began. "You're coloring is much different than mine, I'm going to have to try a few things before I know what's right."

"Just use a lot," I muttered, fidgeting under the towel she had placed over me. "The more you use, the less chance anyone will notice me."

"That's where you're wrong," replied Brenda, beginning to apply foundation to my face. "Any real woman can go out with no makeup and no one would suspect a thing. If you use too much, people might start to wonder what you're trying to cover up. I'm only going to put just enough one so that you won't arouse suspicion."

Soon, my freckles had faded under a thin layer of foundation and blush. My lips were painted scarlet and my eyelashes were coated with thick mascara. I began to tremble at how smoothly my transition between the genders went. How would I ever convince Brenda that I was man enough for her, if I made such a nice girl?

When Brenda had finished she winked at me. "You look really cute, Roberta."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I asked, feeling every bit the sissy.

"Because I don't want to slip up and call you Robert while we're in public. Now let me fix your wig and we'll be all set."

Soon we were in Brenda's convertible, driving off to God knows where. Brenda had wanted to drive with the top down, but I insisted we keep it up. What if someone saw me? I nearly died when a carload of teenagers from my school pulled up next to us at a light. I faced the other way until the light turned green. They didn't see me.

As we pulled into the parking lot of a ritzy looking department store, Brenda looked at me in an odd way. "Roberta, you know how I promised not to tell anyone about what you were doing?"

I felt my guts knot up. "You didn't tell anyone, did you? Dear God, you promised!"

"Calm down, honey. No, I haven't told anyone. But at the store we're going to, there's a beautician who has...I guess you could call it a special talent."

"What do you mean, 'special talent'?"

"She does make-overs for cross dressers...oh, don't give me that look!"

"I am not a cross dresser! I am only doing this for you, and I sure don't want to get made over with a bunch of drag queens! You act like this is a lifestyle of mine!"

Brenda lay a hand on my knee and I stopped ranting. "Roberta, I know you don't enjoy this. I just felt we'd be taking an unnecessary risk if we went shopping without help. You never know what could happen. I can dress you up OK, but this woman can work wonders. Will her help, I guarantee we'll have no problems on prom night. No one will suspect a thing."

"I don't know..."

"Please?" Brenda slipped her hand around my bare waist. "I promise, it won't hurt." She batted her eyes at me.

"OK. But I'm only doing this for you."

"I know you are honey. This is going to be a prom to remember."

She grabbed me by the hand and led me inside. I had never felt so self-conscious as I did right then, walking through the crowded department store wearing a half shirt, a female wig, and makeup. I felt like everyone was watching me, snickering behind their hands at my shameful costume.

"Relax, honey, you're doing just fine," Brenda whispered to me. "No one suspects a thing."

"So how did you find out about this make-over lady?" I asked, in an effort to take my mind off my feminine attire.

"She's a beautician. My mom uses her. She once mentioned that she occasionally did make-overs for female impersonators. So when I decided to take 'Roberta' to the prom, naturally I made an appointment for you."

"You did what? You said you didn't tell anyone!"

"Calm down. I didn't give your real name. Really, you need to learn to relax a bit."

I placed my hand over my 'breasts' and breathed heavily. "I'm sorry. You come here dressed as a man with the world staring at you, and see how calm you are."

Brenda looked mischievous. "I'll tell you what. You calm down now, or I'll yank that wig of yours off, right here in front of everyone."

I was horrified. "You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

I thought about it. "No, I really don't think you would."

Brenda sighed, I had called her bluff. "OK, I wouldn't. But if you're this nervous on prom night people are going to think something is up. Now here's our stop."

We had come to a secluded corner of the large store, a tiny glass-fronted door lead into what appeared to be a ritzy beauty salon. Brenda pulled me by the hand up to the reception desk.

"I have a one o'clock with Mary Ann," she told the clerk.

Soon we were joined by a smiling, middle-aged woman. "Brenda," she twittered. "It's so nice to see you. How is your mother?" They exchanged banalities for a while. "And this must be Roberta," continued Mary Ann. She squeezed my hand. "Well, shall we?"

We were led to a back room of the beauty parlor. When Mary Ann shut the door behind us, we were shut off from the rest of the store, free to talk in private.

I looked around. The compact room seemed to contain everything needed for a complete make-over: sink, basin, makeup table, sewing kit, swatches of material, and a changing screen. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when someone walked from behind the screen.

It was a pretty blonde girl, about my age. She was curvaceous, maybe even slightly plump, but as cute as could be. She wore a tight sweater which accentuated her ample bosom, and tight slacks through which the pleasing shape of her rear-end showed through. Her hair was in a simple ponytail, and she wore only enough makeup to accentuate her features. "Hi, Mom," she smiled when she saw Mary Ann.

"Hi Crystal. You know Brenda, and this is Roberta. She needs a little help passing as a woman for prom night."

Crystal winked at me. "She sure doesn't seem to be having any trouble now. But when we're through with her, she'll forget she was ever a boy."

At that moment I wished Brenda had never called me. My humiliation had never been so absolute. Dressing like Roberta for Brenda was one thing, I was only doing it to help her. And Mary Anne wasn't that big of a deal, she was only there to help. But no one said anything about telling my secret to this teenage goddess! To make matters worse, Crystal clearly thought I was doing this out of enjoyment! Had anyone bothered to inform her how I had been coerced into doing this? How I was protecting Brenda? No, they just let her think I was some kind of transvestite! I began to question how much I cared about Brenda.

No one seemed to notice my agony. Mary Ann was glancing me over, giving me a precursory inspection. "This is going to be easy," she smiled. "But we still have a lot of work to do. That silly wig will have to go for starters. Crystal, why don't you run over to Mr. Chad's and pick up something more Roberta's natural color?"

Crystal smiled, picked up her purse and was gone. "Now," continued Mary Anne "as for her dress..."

"Hold it right there!" I shouted. "Brenda, take me home this instant. Find someone else to take you to prom."

Brenda looked genuinely shocked. "Roberta, honey, what's wrong? I thought we'd discussed..."

"Discussed? No, you discussed. You had me believing that the only way I could go to your prom was as a girl! Then you drag me out here for a make-over, and tell half the world my secret!" I turned to Mary Ann. "Did you even bother to tell your daughter that I was forced into doing this? I doubt it! You must have just let her think that I'm some kind of teenage drag queen! She probably thinks I'm going to prom with a guy!" I felt like crying. Things weren't improved when both Brenda and Mary Ann started giggling.

"You poor thing," grinned Brenda, caressing my cheek.

"You didn't tell Roberta?" Mary Ann asked Brenda.

"No, you always warned me not to tell anyone Crystal's secret."

I was confused. "What secret? What are you two laughing about?"

At that moment Crystal returned, carrying a shopping bag. Mary Ann placed her hand on Crystal's shoulder.

"Crystal, dear, Roberta is a bit embarrassed that you know she's really a boy." Crystal seemed to think this was also hilarious. I wanted to run away, the sight of my girlfriend, the beautician, and the pretty blonde girl all laughing at me was just too much.

Crystal sat down beside me. "Roberta, I'm sorry if that freaked you out. I assumed you knew something about me, but I guess you don't."

"What? What don't I know?"

"That my real name is Christopher. I'm no more of a girl than you are."

I thought she was joking and rolled my eyes at her. But she just smiled and nodded.

I looked her over a second time. Those breasts, could they just be padding? That adorable face, was it nothing more than makeup? That feminine giggle, the result of careful practice? Did those tight jeans hide a maleness much like mine?

"How? Why?" I stammered.

Crystal winked at her mom. "Why don't you tell her?"

"OK," Mary Ann sat down next to her 'daughter.' While Crystal touched up her makeup, I listened to Mary Ann's story of Crystal's creation.

"About two years ago, when Crystal was fifteen (and known as Christopher), my husband was killed in an accident. He was the breadwinner in the house, and when he died, I didn't know what to do. I mean, I was forty years old, no skills, and a teenage son to support. I figured that maybe I could make a little money as a beautician. Unfortunately, I couldn't afford to go to beauty school. So I practiced at home.

"I couldn't practice on myself, and I only had so many friends I could impose on to let me do make-overs on them for hours at a time. I only had one alternative." Crystal smiled and waved her fingers at me.

"Obviously, Christopher refused at first. I mean, what kind of fifteen-year-old kid wants his mother to practice feminine beauty techniques on him?" Crystal giggled. "At any rate, he finally agreed. I don't think there was anything he wouldn't have done to help out the family." Mary Ann gave Crystal a one-armed hug.

"Every night, I'd spend about three hours turning my son Christopher into my daughter, Crystal. That may seem like a lot of time, but keep in mind I was trying to break into an industry I knew nothing about, with no training at all. I waitressed during the day, worked nights at a factory, and in my free time I tried to learn all the beauty secrets I could. Christopher was a real trooper, being willing to become a girl every evening, just to help me out.

"Finally, I began applying for jobs. I never realized how hopeless my dreams had been. No one was interested in a middle-aged woman with no experience. What's more, in this line of work you have to have a huge portfolio of makeovers you have done. All I had was Crystal, and I wasn't about to display photos of her.

"Eventually things got so bad that Christopher agreed to allow me to show off photos of Crystal. That, at least got me some interviews. But things didn't help much. Crystal looked beautiful, but she was just one facial type. I had to prove I could make-over women no matter what they looked like.

"I think I would have given up my dreams had my car not broken down and I had to have Christopher borrow a friend's car to pick me up."

Crystal giggled, and began to recite the story where Mary Ann left off. "So there I was, sitting in this office, listening to some gay beauty parlor owner tell Mom why he couldn't hire her. He holds up a picture of me as Crystal, then pauses. He looks over at me, then back at the photo, then at me again. His eyes get huge. Mom and I are terrified, obviously he figured out where Mom got her model. I was so relieved when he didn't mention it.

"But a week later, Mom gets a call from a friend of the hairdresser. Seems he has always wanted to look like a woman, but was too afraid to go to a beauty parlor. The guy Mom interviewed with told him about Mom's talent for beautifying men, and so he had called her. The guy paid five hundred bucks just for one make-over and photo session.

"After that, our phone never stopped ringing. People were calling from all over, begging to be made into women. It was pretty hysterical. Mom busts her rear learning the secrets of feminine beauty, and most of her customers are men!"

"But you!" I asked impatiently. "How come you are still dressing like that?"

"Well, when Mom started doing this full time, it was obvious that she needed an assistant. And since she couldn't afford to hire one, I worked for her. But we soon realized that something had to change. Men coming for female make-overs didn't feel comfortable with a teenage guy watching them; it made them ashamed. So before I knew it, I was going to work as Crystal."

Mary Ann resumed the story. "Crystal was an expensive investment. I had to pay for all kinds of makeup, cosmetics, and of course clothes. You never realize how expensive a teenage daughter can be until you've had to buy all her dresses in one week! Still, once Crystal was my assistant, all my clients felt at ease. And if they ever wanted proof of my talents, Crystal could simply take off her wig."

My head was spinning. "So how often are you dressed like that?" I asked the boy who was prettier than most girls I knew.

"Well, I haven't stopped dressing like this for over a year now. At first, I only did it evenings and weekends. But it was such a pain constantly changing from one identity to another. Soon I was Crystal non-stop, from Friday afternoon until Monday morning. I began to make friends as Crystal. I found myself almost thinking of myself as a girl. Finally, Mom began to worry that puberty would make it impossible for us to continue the ruse. I mean, if I grew a beard, I couldn't very well be her model, could I?

"We decided that the best course of action would for me to begin taking doses of estrogen. We figured that I could postpone the onset of male characteristics until I left for college. I was dressing like a girl so much by that time, it wasn't really a big sacrifice. We only made one mistake: we bought the hormones illegally, without consulting a doctor. And I ended up taking a just a bit too much."

"What happened?" I breathlessly asked.

"Well, I did end up going through puberty. Just as the wrong gender." Crystal began giggling so hard she couldn't go on. His mother continued.

"About half a year after Crystal began the hormones, I began to notice how it was gradually getting easier and easier to make him over. At first I chalked it up to experience, but soon I realized that wasn't the case. My son really was changing.

"His skin got softer. His hair grew silkier. I noticed him starting to fill out, the way a young woman would. I'll never forget the day I bought him his first bra. Obviously, he had to change schools, there was only so much you could cover with heavy clothes."

I was dumbfounded and scared. I hoped that my innocent foray into the other side of life would never go this far. "So what are your plans now?"

Crystal toyed with his blonde locks. I realized that his hair, unlike mine, was natural. "I'm not sure," he mused. "I really want to go to college next year, but I guess I should go back to being Christopher before then. I guess this summer I'll stop the estrogen, start taking some male hormones, and get on with my life."

"So," piped in Brenda, "now that you realize you are among friends, can we please get started?"

That was the last thing the three of them said to me the whole rest of the afternoon. I might as well have been a mannequin, for all the attention my opinions were given. After I was told to disrobe, I simply sat there shivering in my underwear, while the ladies decided how to do to me what had been done to Christopher.

The first thing Mary Ann said she must do was to give me a feminine figure. This was accomplished by squeezing me into a girdle so tight that I could barely breathe. "God, could you loosen that a little?" I begged. No such luck. "We have to pour you into a tight little prom dress," Mary Ann tittered. "Now," she said, turning to her 'daughter,' "what should be done about her chest?"

"Well," said Crystal, staring at my bare chest, "since there's no chest hair, why don't we use the glue-on kind?"

Glue on kind? I soon found out what that meant. Mary Ann slathered my chest with a goopy, yellow fluid. "It's a sort of epoxy," she explained. "It's powerful, but it comes right off with a little alcohol."

"But what exactly " I began. Then I saw Crystal coming towards me with a big grin. In each hand she held what appeared to be a woman's breast. Obviously fake, but they certainly jiggled and moved like the real thing (at least as the Playboy Channel would have me believe). "They're made of silicone and painted like the real things," said Crystal. "They won't pass close inspection, but under clothes they look very convincing." She pressed them to my chest and instructed me to lay back while the glue set.

"Are you sure they won't slip or anything?" I babbled.

"Oh yes. I used them myself until the hormones gave me my own." I glanced at Crystal's chest out of the corner of my eye. Though not huge, Crystal's boobs were certainly beauties. I couldn't believe they were growing on a guy.

"As long as she's laying down, why don't we get started on her makeup," suggested Mary Ann.

"Why do you keep calling me 'her'?" I complained. "You act like I'm really a girl."

"I apologize," smiled Mary Ann. "So many of my clients think of themselves as women that I always use feminine pronouns. Don't let it bother you."

I glanced at Brenda across the room. I expected to see her smirking, giggling at my discomfort. To my shock, she was smiling at me sweetly. She caught me looking at her and she winked at me. This made me relax a bit. Her approval meant a lot to me.

Mary Ann and Crystal spent the better part of an hour practicing the art of the make-over on me. As my boobs were still drying I couldn't sit up to see what they were doing. Lipstick, mascara brush, sponge, cotton balls, and eyeliner pencil flew before my dazed eyes. I even stoically submitted when they shaved my legs and armpits with electric clippers. Finally, it ended.

"Let me see," I begged, trying to look in a mirror.

"Not just yet, dear. Let's get you dressed first so you can see the finished product. Now sit up and see if your chest holds."

I climbed to a vertical position. My chest felt heavy; small wonder with my new appendages. While you could still see where they were attached, they looked eerily realistic. If I squinted, I could almost imagine I had grown them myself. I had to touch one to make sure it really wasn't mine.

"There you go," said Crystal. "Try not to look at them too much when you go out. It's tempting to glance at them, but you'll only draw suspicion to yourself. They'll be enough guys staring at them anyway."

I grimaced. "Anything else?"

"Be careful of them. Those are C cups, so you stick out more than you used to. Nothing's more embarrassing than knocking over your drink with your chest. Now lets get you dressed."

Brenda squealed with delight when she saw the gowns they had picked out. "Oh, Roberta, these are to die for! Oh, I wish I could dress you up like this all the time! Too bad you can only choose one."

"Yeah. Too bad."

"Now none of that, Ms. Pouty," chastised Crystal. "Try to enjoy yourself."

I looked the gowns over. "All of these show too much skin!" I whined.

"You have such a graceful back and shoulders," said Brenda. "You should really show them off."

I burned with humiliation. Graceful? That had nothing to do with clothes or padding. Obviously she thought I had a natural feminine quality about me. She'd have never said that to her thuggish ex. Obviously I wasn't the man he was.

And so, my back still to the mirrors, I tried on dresses. And accessories. Strapless dresses. Dresses with spaghetti straps. Off the shoulder, backless dresses. Dresses with ruffles and bows. Dresses that swept the floor, dresses that only came down to my knees. Dresses with full sleeves, dresses with none. Dark pantyhose, see through pantyhose, fishnet hose. Necklaces and bracelets. Clip on earrings. Purses. Even a variety of bras, to support my new cleavage without being seen. Finally, everyone (except me) came to a consensus.

It was in the form of a sleeveless, teal-green number. One shoulder was covered with ruffles, the other revealed my bare, freckled shoulder. It reached the floor. There were no bows, but there were lots of ruffles. My hose were light and my heels were black. I wore clip-on silver earrings and no other jewelry.

"Can I look now?" I pleaded.

"Just a minute," said Crystal. She then topped my head with a wig, a red one, more or less the same color as my own hair. "All set," she said.

I closed my eyes as the moved a full length mirror in front of me. I didn't know what I feared more: that I would look like a guy in drag and be suspect at prom, or that I'd look like a girl and never be a man in Brenda's eyes again. I looked.

And there she was. Roberta, Brenda's prom date. A cute, freckle-faced teenager, all dolled up for the big night. Thin, pale arms, skinny waist, and a surprisingly ample chest. She seemed nervous, and a little unsteady on her heels. Her makeup was flawless, obviously professionally done. I didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

"So what do you think?" Asked Mary Ann. She looked hopeful. Obviously she took great pride in her work. It would be mean to tell her what I really thought of what I'd become.

"Very convincing," I commented. "You'd never guess."

"To say the least," said Brenda, sneaking up behind me and planting a kiss on my neck. "You're a doll, Roberta!" A doll. That's what she thinks of her boyfriend. I wondered how long we'd be together, before someone manly took my place.

"You'll have to return the afternoon before prom," Mary Ann informed me. "If you think we did a good job now, just wait until we get through with you next time!" Yippee.

Mary Ann and Crystal left to look after other, more traditional customers in the beauty salon, leaving me to change back into the outfit I had come in.

"Well, I hope this makes you happy, Brenda," I said, not without a trace of bitterness.

"Happy?" she asked. She then pounced on me, pinning me against the wall, and began devouring me with kisses. Our lipstick smeared together. I felt closer to her and more turned on than every before. Abruptly she pulled away and looked down. I followed her eyes. My arousal hadn't only men mental. I was now expanding my dress in a most unladylike manner.

"We'll have to do something about that when we go out," she laughed. "Get dressed, then we'll go home."

Soon the day of prom was upon us. I didn't know whether to be happy or miserable. I mean, that day several years ago when Andy threw me out, I never would have guessed that I was going to be the one taking Brenda to prom. Brenda had been talking about it all week, subtly mentioning that the fun we were going to have wouldn't end when the dance was over.

But it all seemed ridiculous. I mean, I was going in a gown! I was going to try to look curvaceous and pretty. How could I enjoy prom like that? I kept hinting that we'd have more fun if I went in a tux, but Brenda would always remind me of Andy's threats. I wished I were manly enough to stand up to her.

The plan was that Brenda would drop me off at Mary Ann's beauty salon in the early afternoon. Mary Ann and Crystal would give me a make-over, while Brenda readied herself at her own house. She'd then pick me up and take me to prom.

If Mary Ann and Crystal were careful when they first transformed me, they were absolutely meticulous this time. They took care of every detail. They scoured my skin for even the slightest hair, which they quickly plucked with tweezers. They filed my nails down to perfection, then delicately painted them red. My makeup was applied, removed, and reapplied. They forced me to walk back and forth across the dressing room until they concluded that my walk was sufficiently feminine. They coached me on my speech. I don't exactly have a manly voice, so it wasn't hard to sound like a husky-voiced girl.

The most embarrassing part of the ordeal came when Mary Ann revealed that Brenda had told her about my erection the previous time. I hid my face. "Nothing to be ashamed of," said Mary Ann. "But we do have to cover it up." She handed me a pair of rubber panties. "These should be tight enough to contain anything." I struggled into them behind the screen. They were almost painfully restrictive, but tight enough that I didn't have to worry about anything showing up when I was dancing close with Brenda.

After about three hours of preparation, I was finished. Brenda arrived at that moment, in a cloud of perfume. We stood in front of the mirror and stared.

Brenda had worn her hair up. Her dress was strapless, exposing the top of her ample chest and silky, bare arms. Her gown glittered due to the sequins sewed into it. She looked lovelier than I had ever seen her. At that moment, I would have done anything for her.

She was looking at me intently. "Wow, Roberta, you're beautiful. My God, you put me to shame!" I regarded my reflection. The green of my dress accentuated the red of my wig. My freckled shoulder and arms stood out smooth and weak. The prosthetics gave me an hourglass figure. I really did look kind of cute.

"So what do you think?" asked Crystal, looking rather cute himself in a simple skirt and top.

"Great job. I don't think anyone will notice."

"I'll say!" agreed Brenda. "I'm walking into prom tonight on the arm of the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"

"So am I," I smiled. We both blushed a bit.

"I have something for you," I told Brenda. Reaching into my gym bag, I pulled out a small box. I removed the corsage I had purchased for her and pinned it to her wrist. It was the one manly gesture I could make that evening: buying a flower for my date.

Brenda looked like she was about to melt in my arms. "That is so sweet! I can't remember the last time anyone bought me a flower. Andy never..." she stopped short. She knew I didn't like hearing about Andy, even in a negative sense.

"I have something for you, too," giggled Brenda. Wouldn't you know, she had bought me a flower as well. A white carnation, with green tinge to match my dress. As she pinned it to my wrist, my humiliation was complete: my date pinning a corsage to me. What could be more girlish?

"I'm so jealous," sighed Crystal. "Wish I was coming as well." I wondered what was going on in Crystal's mind. It seems that there was more to the ruse then helping out Mary Ann. I wondered if Crystal would follow through with the plan to return to manhood after high school.

"Try not to break too many hearts, girls," smiled Mary Ann as we left.

I was silent as Brenda drove me to her high school. Since I knew almost no one at her school, I was certain no one would recognize me. But what if they saw through my disguise?

"Brenda?"

"Yes, Roberta?"

"You don't think anyone will realize I'm a guy, do you?"

"I don't think they'd believe you if you told them."

"What about Andy?"

"Who?"

"Andy, you know, your ex. The reason I'm dressed this way." After all the trouble I went to, it certainly annoyed me that Andy had slipped her mind.

"Oh oh, yes of course. I'm sure he'll be angry, but what can he do?" Two weeks ago she'd been scared to death of him, now she didn't seemed concerned. Too late now, we had arrived.

I braced myself. "Tell me again why I'm doing this."

"Because you care about me enough to swallow your pride and be there for me when I need you."

"Are you sure we have to do this?"

"You know, my parents are in Chicago this weekend. Maybe after prom we could try out the new hot tub."

"I didn't bring my swimsuit."

"So?" Brenda hopped out of the car. Numbly, I followed.

I looked around at the crowd milling in front of the high school. Dozens of young women, looking exquisite in their dresses. Dozens of young men, looking both handsome and uncomfortable in their tuxes.

I looked wistfully at a guy who was even shorter and skinnier than me, arrive on the arm of a girl just as pretty as Brenda. Why wasn't I that guy?

"Brenda!" a feminine voice squealed. I turned to see a group of three lovely girls, obviously friends of Brenda, approaching. "So glad you decided to come!"

"Candy, Cindi, Angie! I wouldn't have missed it for their world." She kissed each one on their cheek.

"So are you double dating tonight?" one of the girls asked, smiling at me.

"Not exactly. Remember how Andy threatened to punch out anyone who showed up with me?" The girls nodded, angrily. "Well, I'd like you to meet Roberta my date for the evening!"

There was a stunned silence. This was it, how would they react? I breathed a sigh of relief when they all burst into joyful laughter.

"That's so wonderful!" one of them giggled as they all hugged both Brenda and myself. "Andy can't fight with a woman, can he? Good thinking!" I began to feel relief. Not only was I passing as a girl, but also no one seemed to think Brenda's plan was odd. We all made our way to the front door.

"Brenda!" I recognized the fingernails-on-chalkboard sound of the voice, even before I turned around. There was Andy, as ugly and burly as I remembered him. This was it.

"Oh, it's you," said Brenda, with bored contempt. Brenda's friends glowered at Andy.

"Yeah, me. Your boyfriend. What are you doing here? I thought I warned you."

"We broke up, Nimrod. I'm enjoying prom, without you."

Andy turned red. "So you wanna spend the night alone, eh? Fine. I'll be here when you get bored."

"Oh, I didn't come alone," smirked Brenda.

Andy literally bellowed. "Where's the dead man? Where is he?" He balled his hands into fists. I was glad Brenda hadn't let me come as Robert, that would have been deadly.

Brenda smiled sweetly. "Right here. Andy, this is my date, Roberta. Roberta, Andy."

"Charmed, I'm sure," I managed to stammer, appearing more confident then I felt.

Andy stood there for a few seconds, trying to decide if we were joking. Roberta linked her arm with mine. "Come, Roberta, let's get a table."

"What the hell!" screamed Andy. "Are you some kinda lesbo freak?" He was furious.

"No, I just wanted to go to prom with someone nice. And a better dancer, I might add."

Brenda apparently thought that would be the end of things, but she was wrong. With bruising pressure, Andy grabbed both of us by the arm. "You sick perverts! I ought to slap some sense into both of you!" I looked to Brenda for help, but she was petrified. Andy's jealousy was obviously much more intense than she had anticipated.

"I ought to take the both of you and show you what it's like to have a real man!" Oh dear, God, this wasn't happening.

"I'm getting a teacher!" screamed one of Brenda's friends.

At that moment, I was aware of a large presence behind us. Andy looked up at something over our shoulders and released Brenda and myself. We rubbed our arms, painfully, then turned and looked.

Two big high school guys were standing behind us. One was quite handsome, he reminded me a bit of George Clooney. He was tall, his tux was neat, and he had an easy smile. His good looks were marred slightly by a butterfly bandage across the bridge of his nose.

Next to him stood a guy who appeared to belong in the 'assent of man' exhibit at the museum. He was a huge barrel chested guy, whose arms seems just slightly longer than his legs. I got the impression it took conscious mental effort for him to stand on only two feet. His tux was too small; his hairy wrists poked a good length out of his sleeves. His brow was large and bony, and a missing front tooth completed his simian appearance.

"What's up?" smiled the handsome guy. "Andy, the way you were hollering, you would have thought they'd canceled the Flintstones."

Andy shook with rage. "I'll tell you what's up, Gabe! Brenda shows up to prom with another chick! She's turning into some kind of faggot sicko!"

Gabe, the good-looking guy, chuckled. "Just like on Jerry Springer, eh Jay?" he nudged his ape-like companion, who grunted.

"I'm not about to let my girlfriend go to a dance with some lesbian slut!" barked Andy.

"Now hold on there, slick," said Gabe. "I seem to recall her dumping you a while back. I think you need to back off, just a bit."

"Who's gonna make me?"

Gabe continued to look Andy in the eye. He was still smiling with his mouth, but no longer with his eyes. Jay cracked his knuckles. It sounded like a string of firecrackers going off. "Maybe you ought to go on inside," suggested Gabe, coldly.

Andy vacillated for minute, wondering if taking on the two big guys was worth it. It wasn't. He stormed off in the direction of the parking lot. "You'll come crawling back!" he screamed back at Brenda.

We let a collective sigh of relief. "You were fantastic," gushed Brenda. I turned around to thank her and realized that she wasn't talking to me. She was talking to Gabe.

"It was nothing," he humbly replied. "Now why don't we all go inside?" Brenda smiled at him sweetly. I followed alongside Jay's hulking frame. I burned with humiliation and anger. Here I am, prom night, dressed in a gown and heels, and Brenda's gushing over another guy! Maybe he did drive Andy off, but I was the one making the big sacrifice.

We entered the crepe paper festooned gymnasium. Much to my annoyance, Gabe and Jay joined us at our table. Soon everyone was talking and laughing. Everyone except me, that is. It seems Brenda had practically forgotten that I was her date. It was just as I feared; here were two guys, football players no less, stealing Brenda away from me, right under my nose. And I could do nothing about it! Even though Brenda was supposed to be my date, I couldn't act jealous, not without making Brenda look like a homosexual.

The worst humiliation was yet to come. I had assumed that Brenda would at least dance with me. No such luck. As soon as a slow number started, Jay asked, in a series of barely coherent monosyllables, if Brenda would like to dance. Foolish me, I had expected her to protest. Nope, without so much as a look in my direction, they were out on the dance floor.

I wanted the evening to be over. How could Brenda do this to me? Convince me to become Roberta, then waltz off with another guy! I winced when I heard her giggling at something Jay had said. Accounts of the latest mammoth hunt, no doubt.

I became uncomfortably aware that Gabe and I were alone at the table together. Poor guy, he had probably hoped to dance with Brenda, only to have his friend beat him to the punch. In an attempt to lighten the mood, I asked him a bit about himself.

He was seventeen, like myself, and a football player of course. Not egotistical, he kept trying to turn the conversation to things about me. I quickly demurred; Roberta didn't actually exist.

"So," he said, apropos of nothing, "would you like to dance?" I was too stunned to reply. Just when I thought the evening couldn't possibly get any worse, just when I'm at my lowest peak, sitting there in a prom dress and heels with my date dancing with another guy, this happens!

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I joked, praying he had only asked out of pity for me.

"No problem," he grinned. He stood up and offered me his hand. Not tonight, buddy.

"No thanks, I don't feel like it."

"C'mon, it's prom night. You have to dance."

"I said I don't feel like it." Embarrassed, Gabe sat down again. Conversation died.

As the night wore on, I began to feel sorry for Gabe as well as myself. He had just risked a fight with Andy to protect us, and I wouldn't even dance with him. Well, his tough luck. I already had a date. Of course, she hadn't even looked in my direction for half an hour. She hadn't even noticed me

I looked over at Gabe, who looked terribly bored. Maybe if we danced, Brenda would get jealous.

I waited until the DJ played a fast number, one that we couldn't possibly slow dance to. Then I stood up. "Let's go," I said.

I refused to let him take my hand as we entered the dance floor. Since the music was so fast he had no call to touch me, and soon we were tearing it up. I was never the greatest dancer, but I managed to move in time to the beat, more or less. Standing a couple of feet in front of Gabe, it wasn't hard to imagine that we weren't even partners. Before I knew it, we'd been dancing about an hour.

In spite of myself, I was having an OK time. Every slow number, I'd sit out. Gabe danced with a couple of his friends, I turned down a couple of offers to dance from other boys, much to my chagrin. I lost track of time and was surprised when the DJ announced the last dance of the evening.

This was it. If I were to get in one dance with Brenda, it had to be now. I gazed across the gym till I saw her. Much to my horror, she was in Jay's arms. And her head was resting on his shoulder. My fury was absolute.

"Shall we?" Gabe had snuck up on me. I was too pissed to say no. He gingerly placed his hands on my hips, I placed my hands on his neck. I'd be damned if I was going to sit out the last dance. I'd give Brenda a piece of my mind after this. Not a chance in hell I'd ever want to see her again.

"Mind if I cut in?" It was Brenda. She looked at us shyly. My blood boiled. After everything she put me through, now she wants to dance with Gabe as well? Just to make sure I see her with not one, but two guys?

Gabe shrugged, and moved towards Brenda. "Nope," she smiled. "I figure I should get the last dance with the person I came with." She gently took my hands in hers.

I guess my shock showed. "So who should lead?" Brenda giggled. Logically, it should have been me; I was the true man. But of course, Brenda led. Why shouldn't she have? She controlled everything else in the relationship.

Just when it seemed my date had actually remembered me, it was over. The DJ thanked everyone, and the house lights went on. Couples began straggling towards the door.

I had hoped something of the evening could be salvaged. I had fed my mother a line of bull about spending the night with a friend (good thing she never asked to meet these imaginary friends). Brenda and I could be together all night. Maybe I could count on some alone time.

Nope. Gabe and Jay insisted on escorting us out into the parking lot. I kept my arms tight against my body so that Gabe couldn't take my arm.

"Well, ladies, the night is young," said Gabe in his suave voice. "What say we have a late night snack?"

I swear Brenda was going to agree. I know she was opening her mouth to say yes. It was at that time I took my only stand of the evening.

"No, I'm sorry, we can't," I stated firmly. "It's almost my curfew." Then I quickly added "and Brenda's my ride." At this point, I didn't know if I could count on Brenda not to ditch me for her handsome friends.

"Um, yeah, we have to go." Brenda sounded almost regretful.

"Too bad," said Jay, his longest sentence of the evening.

"Well, Red," said Gabe, looking at me, "I really enjoyed myself." Red? He's trying to give me a cute nickname now? Oh God, how I wanted to go home. Then I saw something that made me realize that I would be dumping Brenda as soon as we were in private. She was kissing Jay!

Not with tongue, but she was kissing him! My own date, kissing another guy. I started to head for the car. Gabe blocked my way.

Now that I play the scene back in my mind, it seems like there was so much I could have done to prevent it. I could have jumped back, or ducked, or slapped his face, or anything. But I froze. Who could blame me, it's not like a boy had ever tried to kiss me before.

It was over before it began. His face moved in, our lips touched, he backed off. And my life would never be the same. Till the day I died, I could never erase the fact that I had kissed another guy.

It took all my self-control to compose myself. Wordlessly, I got in Brenda's car, ignoring Gabe calling "Maybe I could call you some time?"

When Brenda slid into the driver's seat, I expected her to say something. Anything. Sorry for abandoning me, sorry for making me dress like that, thanks for my patience, something! But she was silent. She simply smiled all the way home, humming one of the songs she had danced with Jay to.

It was only when we pulled into her garage that the realized I had kept a stony silence the whole way home. "Roberta, honey, is something wrong?"

I was so mad, I could barely get the words out. "Something wrong? I don't know, let me see. You force me to dress up like a girl, parade me around in front of your friends, I nearly get my face bashed in by your ex, and then, after that, you spend the whole evening with another guy! Yeah, I guess something is wrong!" I didn't even mention getting kissed by Gabe; some things are too humiliating for words.

"But Roberta," protested Brenda, "I had to dance with Jay. I mean, he really helped us out there! I couldn't deny him a dance."

"A dance, sure. But did you have to spend the whole evening with him?"

"Well, I kind of lost track of time. And then you seemed to be having so much fun dancing with Gabe..."

I was so furious I wanted to smash something. "I was dancing with Gabe so I wouldn't have to spend the whole night watching my date dance with someone else. Thanks for penciling me in for the last five minutes of prom. I'm going to change back into my boy clothes, then I'm calling a cab. Goodbye forever." I meant it too.

Brenda looked stunned, then scared. "I'm sorry Roberta...I mean Robert. I guess when it came down to it, I was afraid what people would think if I danced the whole night with a woman."

"And you didn't stop to think how I'd feel, getting dressed up like a girl and then ignored?"

Brenda touched my cheek. "I guess I didn't think. I guess I wouldn't blame you for dumping me."

"Is that what you want?" I was still angry, but I wasn't sure I was ready to walk out on her anymore.

"No. That is exactly what I DON'T want. I've had so much fun with you all this time, honey. I didn't realize it at first, but you're everything I want in a relationship. If you feel like leaving, I suppose I deserve it, but I'll still be here waiting if you change your mind." Brenda placed her arm around my bare neck. Soon we were kissing.

Just as my hand started to play with the zipper down the back of her dress, she pulled away. "I have a surprise for you," she smiled.

"What kind of surprise?" I asked, remembering what she had said about the hot tub earlier.

"Come on inside. I'm going to change first. Your surprise is in the hall bathroom, under the sink."

As Brenda disappeared into her room, I slunk into the bathroom. What kind of surprise would it be? I eagerly threw open the cabinet under the sink. There I found a beribboned box. With no time to lose, I tore it open.

Inside was the silkiest, laciest, more feminine nightie I had ever seen. It would leave almost nothing to the imagination. My sequestered manhood began to strain against the rubber panties. Brenda obviously intended to wear this for me! And, I supposed, take it off for me as well! Tonight I would become a man. To think I ever thought about breaking it off with her!

Still in my gown, I dashed over to her room. I'd give her the nightie to slip into, then I'd begin the arduous process of removing my makeup, nail polish, and fake breasts. Gently, I knocked on her door.

"Enter," she whispered, sensuously. As my eyes adjusted to the darkened bedroom, they nearly popped out of my head. Brenda lay dreamily on her wide bed. She was wearing her earrings, her panties, and not a stitch more. She dreamily ran her red nails over her bare side.

Nothing else existed for me at that moment. I forgot about my dress, or the lacy garment that Brenda was going to put on for me. All I could think about was touching my dream girl. But when I moved toward her, she motioned for me to halt.

"Not one step closer until you put that on," she said, gesturing to the skimpy lingerie I was holding.

I was flabbergasted. "But I thought I thought this was for you!" I whined.

"Nope. Roberta was my date for prom, and I'd really like to see her in that."

"Aren't we carrying this a bit too far?"

"If you don't want to play by my rules, Roberta, then that's your choice." She gestured to the Monopoly board on her table. "I'll let you be the Scottie dog."

She had to be bluffing. Prom was one thing, but this? I moved toward her. Wordlessly, she picked up her bra and began to put it back on.

What could I do? After everything I had already done this evening, I wasn't about to stay a virgin just because I wouldn't wear some lingerie. "I'll be right back," I gasped, then ran off to the bathroom.

Yes, I knew what a sissy I'd be by doing this, but after prom, it's not like I had much pride left. The thought of actually touching Brenda's body made every other thought slip away. Quickly I removed my dress and hung it up. With great happiness I removed my heels and nylons. I ripped off the rubber panties and tossed them in the garbage. I wanted to remove my fake breasts as well, but that required alcohol and I didn't want to waste time looking for some. I slipped myself into the feminine lace and looked in the mirror. My wig and makeup were still perfect. Only a slight bulge at the crotch and a thin seam where my boobs attached gave me away. I sauntered into Brenda's room.

"Oh Roberta, you look so darling. Come here, honey. Come here and let me hold you." And now, dear reader, the rest I leave to your imagination.

(continued)

Description
A Different Kind of Prom, Part 2
Copyright 2001

by Czolgolz
czolgolz@yahoo.com

The next two weeks I was in heaven. Even though we lived a good distance from each other, Brenda insisted that we see each other several times a week. I called her every night. At first I was afraid that I was harassing her, but she would frequently tell me how nice it was to be remembered. Andy had rarely called unless he wanted something.

It was hard to define our relationship at that time. We were friends, that was for sure. But were we more? Brenda would introduce me as Robert. She never implied that we were linked romantically, but at the same time, she never denied it. When we'd run into her friends at the movies or restaurants, it seemed to me that they would assume I was her date.

We never did much physically. She'd kiss me goodnight, but would never let me go further. "I'm just not ready for that yet," she'd say, apologetically. I was patient. Brenda wasn't a tease, I knew she just had to work things out in her head before she could move on. As for me dressing in her clothes, she never mentioned it again.

It was right before senior prom I decided to step up my efforts to make her my official girlfriend. I knew that prom constituted a real date, but I figured I should at least ask her. With Andy out of the picture, she just might say yes to me.

I was bumbling and awkward when I asked, but I managed to blurt out that I'd like to accompany her to prom. She giggled, then kissed me. "I was wondering if you'd ever ask me. Yes, of course I'll go."

I was walking on air all that night! Prom with the girl of my dreams! For once I wouldn't be a nerd! We'd walk into the prom at her school proudly. I'd be there with the prettiest girl on the dance floor.

I didn't mention my achievement to anyone that night, out of fear I'd jinx things. It was a good thing, too. The next night, she called me up, in tears.

"I have to talk to you, Robert. I'll come pick you up. I don't think we can go to prom."

I managed to bite my lip until she had picked me up and we'd pulled out of the driveway. "What's wrong Brenda?" I asked, concerned. She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled the car over to the side of the road and began bawling.

"What? What is it?" Even before she said anything, I knew somehow that Andy was to blame.

She handed me a folded piece of paper. "I found it in my locker today."

'Dear Brenda,' it read.

'I heard you think your (sic) going to prom with another guy. NO WAY! I swear to God that any guy who so much as holds your hand at prom it gonna get his face smashed in. I'm gonna be there ready to pound whatever geek you take. You go with me or you don't go!

Andy'

I was stunned. I knew Andy had taken it badly, but this?

"I'm so sorry, Robert. We can't go, he'd kill you."

"We'll just go to the prom at my school." I felt sick to my stomach. I could only imagine what would happen if Andy decided he wanted to beat me up. He was twice my size!

"He'd just follow me. I'm sorry, Robert, but I can't let anything happen to you. You're too special. We'll just come to my place, play Monopoly "

NO! By God, no! I may be a scrawny shrimp, but I'd be damned if I was going to have Brenda sit home on prom night because I wasn't as manly as Andy.

Brenda had plunged her face into my shoulder and began sobbing harder. Gently, I took her chin in my hand. "Brenda, I'm taking you to that prom." She tried to interrupt. "Don't you see? If you don't come, he'll win! Do you want that? Him controlling your life? I'm willing to stand up to him. I don't care if he is bigger, I'm not going to let you get pushed around." There. I said it. Let's see, blood type, B+, no allergies, I guess I should will everything to Mom...

Brenda stopped weeping. "Why would I think you'd ever abandon me, Robert? But I'm not letting you go. I'm not exaggerating when I say you'd wind up in the hospital."

"I'll take the risk." Gulp.

"No. He'd pick a fight with Mike Tyson if I showed up with him. There's no one he wouldn't pound, except maybe..." she stopped short. Sitting up straight, she wiped her eyes and looked at me.

"What?" I was afraid she'd remembered a macho friend who she could go to prom with.

"Robert, you really did make a convincing girl the other day."

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "You said you weren't going to bring that up."

"I'm sorry. But well, you did. It was really hard to tell you weren't a guy. And I was just thinking, Andy wouldn't hit a girl."

I instantly saw where she was going with that. "No way," I stated.

"Hear me out. If I made you up pretty enough to pass for Roberta, you could still be my date! I'll tell everyone at school what Andy threatened to do. Everyone will expect him to pound whatever guy I go with. Then, when I show up with a woman, he'll look like an idiot. All psyched up to beat someone up, and he won't be able to do anything!"

"No way. I'm showing up in a tux, not a gown."

"Then I'm not going. You've a braver man than Andy, but that won't do you any good in the ER."

"You must think I'm a real sissy." I was bitter.

"Jesus, do you men ever listen? You're willing to stand up to a guy twice your size, just to protect me. You're three times the man Andy was. But facts are facts and you'll get hurt. Maybe you could just put aside your pride a bit and take me to that prom." She snuggled against me. "I'll even let you lead."

I didn't now weather to laugh or cry. "What will people think? You dancing with a woman, I mean."

"Who cares? I could just get a female friend to go with me, but I'd rather go with you." She flipped my hair.

"Promise no one will recognize me?"

"You won't recognize yourself."

"Then...Christ, the things I do for you."

She pecked my cheek. "Better you should concentrate on the things I'm going to do with you." She licked her lips and started the car.

The next day I showed up and Brenda's house to go shopping for gowns. The indignity of it! A seventeen-year-old guy getting ready for prom by going to a formal dress store! Still, I was doing it for Brenda. It was a chance to make her safe and to show up Andy. But I much would have rather been big enough to stand up to Andy, not small enough to fit into a dress.

As usual, Brenda's parents weren't home and we'd have the whole place to ourselves. When I rang the doorbell, I was both surprised and pleased to see that she was wearing a towel over her hair, another one around her torso, and nothing else. "Hi, Robert. Sorry, I'm running a little late. C'mon in."

Trying to focus on her eyes, I followed. I thought about asking to borrow her towel, a la Chevy Chase in 'Fletch', but lost my nerve.

"I'll be dressed in a minute," she said as she ducked into the bathroom (don't put yourself out on my account). "In the mean time, why don't you go to my closet and pick something out to wear."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't very well take you to a women's clothing store as Robert, now can I?"

"Hang on, I never agreed to this! Can't you just pick a prom dress out for me?"

"Nope. They have to do measurements and such."

"What if someone I know sees me?"

"Don't worry. I'm taking you to a place that you couldn't um that I doubt you've been to."

"You mean, too fancy for me to afford, right?"

She stuck her head out of the bathroom, a guilty expression on her face. "Yes. Sorry."

That was always a point of awkwardness between us. Brenda had a new car, nice clothes, a big house. I lived in a tiny house, wore non-name brand clothes, and didn't have a car. Ever since Dad had run out on us, Mom had struggled to make ends meet. I still had no idea how I was going to afford college.

I slunk into Brenda's room and poked around in her closet, trying to find the least feminine things I could fit into. As if reading my thoughts, Brenda shouted from the bathroom "And no slacks or T-shirts. You have to look authentic, OK?"

I ignored her. I was already wearing a pair of her pants and wasn't going to change again. The pants had fit, much to my shock. Though Brenda was skinnier than me, she had much wider hips, enabling me to slip inside them. I then began searching for a top.

"Here, let me give you a hand." Brenda had returned, dressed in a pair of cut-off shorts and a T-shirt. Even dressed as sloppily as that, she seemed to exude femininity. I knew it would take a lot of effort to make me look half that good.

Brenda handed me an athletic bra. "Just slip that on. After I stuff you, no one will suspect anything if a clerk or someone should get a glimpse of you while your changing." I gulped. If anyone ever figured out my true gender, I'd have to leave town.

After Brenda had given me a nice pair of boobs (this time made up of nylon stockings stuffed with socks) she handed me a top.

"Brenda, I can't wear this!" I gasped, as soon as I had it on. "It doesn't go all the way down!" My freckled belly showed, just a little, between the shirt and pants.

"That's the point, silly. You're so skinny, you look cute in a midriff baring number. Like a red-headed Brittany Spears!" I blushed crimson.

"Now don't get like that," said Brenda, putting her arms around my neck. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Nothing to be ashamed of? It's not even prom night, and already I'm looking like a girl! Maybe we should just call this off."

Brenda placed her mouth very near mine. I could feel her breath on my face. "Robert, do you like being my boyfriend?" I gasped, inwardly. She had said it! We were a couple. I nodded.

"I like being your girlfriend. And do you know why? Because you go the extra mile. You do things for me no other guy would. And after prom, I'm going to show you just how grateful I am." She slapped my butt. "Now no more whining. Let me do your makeup."

When Brenda had made me up that first night, it was sort of a half-hearted job; she hadn't expected anyone else to see me. Today, it was different. Going to a store, even an exclusive private one, required me to look like a seventeen year-old girl.

"This might take a while," said Brenda when she began. "You're coloring is much different than mine, I'm going to have to try a few things before I know what's right."

"Just use a lot," I muttered, fidgeting under the towel she had placed over me. "The more you use, the less chance anyone will notice me."

"That's where you're wrong," replied Brenda, beginning to apply foundation to my face. "Any real woman can go out with no makeup and no one would suspect a thing. If you use too much, people might start to wonder what you're trying to cover up. I'm only going to put just enough one so that you won't arouse suspicion."

Soon, my freckles had faded under a thin layer of foundation and blush. My lips were painted scarlet and my eyelashes were coated with thick mascara. I began to tremble at how smoothly my transition between the genders went. How would I ever convince Brenda that I was man enough for her, if I made such a nice girl?

When Brenda had finished she winked at me. "You look really cute, Roberta."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I asked, feeling every bit the sissy.

"Because I don't want to slip up and call you Robert while we're in public. Now let me fix your wig and we'll be all set."

Soon we were in Brenda's convertible, driving off to God knows where. Brenda had wanted to drive with the top down, but I insisted we keep it up. What if someone saw me? I nearly died when a carload of teenagers from my school pulled up next to us at a light. I faced the other way until the light turned green. They didn't see me.

As we pulled into the parking lot of a ritzy looking department store, Brenda looked at me in an odd way. "Roberta, you know how I promised not to tell anyone about what you were doing?"

I felt my guts knot up. "You didn't tell anyone, did you? Dear God, you promised!"

"Calm down, honey. No, I haven't told anyone. But at the store we're going to, there's a beautician who has...I guess you could call it a special talent."

"What do you mean, 'special talent'?"

"She does make-overs for cross dressers...oh, don't give me that look!"

"I am not a cross dresser! I am only doing this for you, and I sure don't want to get made over with a bunch of drag queens! You act like this is a lifestyle of mine!"

Brenda lay a hand on my knee and I stopped ranting. "Roberta, I know you don't enjoy this. I just felt we'd be taking an unnecessary risk if we went shopping without help. You never know what could happen. I can dress you up OK, but this woman can work wonders. Will her help, I guarantee we'll have no problems on prom night. No one will suspect a thing."

"I don't know..."

"Please?" Brenda slipped her hand around my bare waist. "I promise, it won't hurt." She batted her eyes at me.

"OK. But I'm only doing this for you."

"I know you are honey. This is going to be a prom to remember."

She grabbed me by the hand and led me inside. I had never felt so self-conscious as I did right then, walking through the crowded department store wearing a half shirt, a female wig, and makeup. I felt like everyone was watching me, snickering behind their hands at my shameful costume.

"Relax, honey, you're doing just fine," Brenda whispered to me. "No one suspects a thing."

"So how did you find out about this make-over lady?" I asked, in an effort to take my mind off my feminine attire.

"She's a beautician. My mom uses her. She once mentioned that she occasionally did make-overs for female impersonators. So when I decided to take 'Roberta' to the prom, naturally I made an appointment for you."

"You did what? You said you didn't tell anyone!"

"Calm down. I didn't give your real name. Really, you need to learn to relax a bit."

I placed my hand over my 'breasts' and breathed heavily. "I'm sorry. You come here dressed as a man with the world staring at you, and see how calm you are."

Brenda looked mischievous. "I'll tell you what. You calm down now, or I'll yank that wig of yours off, right here in front of everyone."

I was horrified. "You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

I thought about it. "No, I really don't think you would."

Brenda sighed, I had called her bluff. "OK, I wouldn't. But if you're this nervous on prom night people are going to think something is up. Now here's our stop."

We had come to a secluded corner of the large store, a tiny glass-fronted door lead into what appeared to be a ritzy beauty salon. Brenda pulled me by the hand up to the reception desk.

"I have a one o'clock with Mary Ann," she told the clerk.

Soon we were joined by a smiling, middle-aged woman. "Brenda," she twittered. "It's so nice to see you. How is your mother?" They exchanged banalities for a while. "And this must be Roberta," continued Mary Ann. She squeezed my hand. "Well, shall we?"

We were led to a back room of the beauty parlor. When Mary Ann shut the door behind us, we were shut off from the rest of the store, free to talk in private.

I looked around. The compact room seemed to contain everything needed for a complete make-over: sink, basin, makeup table, sewing kit, swatches of material, and a changing screen. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when someone walked from behind the screen.

It was a pretty blonde girl, about my age. She was curvaceous, maybe even slightly plump, but as cute as could be. She wore a tight sweater which accentuated her ample bosom, and tight slacks through which the pleasing shape of her rear-end showed through. Her hair was in a simple ponytail, and she wore only enough makeup to accentuate her features. "Hi, Mom," she smiled when she saw Mary Ann.

"Hi Crystal. You know Brenda, and this is Roberta. She needs a little help passing as a woman for prom night."

Crystal winked at me. "She sure doesn't seem to be having any trouble now. But when we're through with her, she'll forget she was ever a boy."

At that moment I wished Brenda had never called me. My humiliation had never been so absolute. Dressing like Roberta for Brenda was one thing, I was only doing it to help her. And Mary Anne wasn't that big of a deal, she was only there to help. But no one said anything about telling my secret to this teenage goddess! To make matters worse, Crystal clearly thought I was doing this out of enjoyment! Had anyone bothered to inform her how I had been coerced into doing this? How I was protecting Brenda? No, they just let her think I was some kind of transvestite! I began to question how much I cared about Brenda.

No one seemed to notice my agony. Mary Ann was glancing me over, giving me a precursory inspection. "This is going to be easy," she smiled. "But we still have a lot of work to do. That silly wig will have to go for starters. Crystal, why don't you run over to Mr. Chad's and pick up something more Roberta's natural color?"

Crystal smiled, picked up her purse and was gone. "Now," continued Mary Anne "as for her dress..."

"Hold it right there!" I shouted. "Brenda, take me home this instant. Find someone else to take you to prom."

Brenda looked genuinely shocked. "Roberta, honey, what's wrong? I thought we'd discussed..."

"Discussed? No, you discussed. You had me believing that the only way I could go to your prom was as a girl! Then you drag me out here for a make-over, and tell half the world my secret!" I turned to Mary Ann. "Did you even bother to tell your daughter that I was forced into doing this? I doubt it! You must have just let her think that I'm some kind of teenage drag queen! She probably thinks I'm going to prom with a guy!" I felt like crying. Things weren't improved when both Brenda and Mary Ann started giggling.

"You poor thing," grinned Brenda, caressing my cheek.

"You didn't tell Roberta?" Mary Ann asked Brenda.

"No, you always warned me not to tell anyone Crystal's secret."

I was confused. "What secret? What are you two laughing about?"

At that moment Crystal returned, carrying a shopping bag. Mary Ann placed her hand on Crystal's shoulder.

"Crystal, dear, Roberta is a bit embarrassed that you know she's really a boy." Crystal seemed to think this was also hilarious. I wanted to run away, the sight of my girlfriend, the beautician, and the pretty blonde girl all laughing at me was just too much.

Crystal sat down beside me. "Roberta, I'm sorry if that freaked you out. I assumed you knew something about me, but I guess you don't."

"What? What don't I know?"

"That my real name is Christopher. I'm no more of a girl than you are."

I thought she was joking and rolled my eyes at her. But she just smiled and nodded.

I looked her over a second time. Those breasts, could they just be padding? That adorable face, was it nothing more than makeup? That feminine giggle, the result of careful practice? Did those tight jeans hide a maleness much like mine?

"How? Why?" I stammered.

Crystal winked at her mom. "Why don't you tell her?"

"OK," Mary Ann sat down next to her 'daughter.' While Crystal touched up her makeup, I listened to Mary Ann's story of Crystal's creation.

"About two years ago, when Crystal was fifteen (and known as Christopher), my husband was killed in an accident. He was the breadwinner in the house, and when he died, I didn't know what to do. I mean, I was forty years old, no skills, and a teenage son to support. I figured that maybe I could make a little money as a beautician. Unfortunately, I couldn't afford to go to beauty school. So I practiced at home.

"I couldn't practice on myself, and I only had so many friends I could impose on to let me do make-overs on them for hours at a time. I only had one alternative." Crystal smiled and waved her fingers at me.

"Obviously, Christopher refused at first. I mean, what kind of fifteen-year-old kid wants his mother to practice feminine beauty techniques on him?" Crystal giggled. "At any rate, he finally agreed. I don't think there was anything he wouldn't have done to help out the family." Mary Ann gave Crystal a one-armed hug.

"Every night, I'd spend about three hours turning my son Christopher into my daughter, Crystal. That may seem like a lot of time, but keep in mind I was trying to break into an industry I knew nothing about, with no training at all. I waitressed during the day, worked nights at a factory, and in my free time I tried to learn all the beauty secrets I could. Christopher was a real trooper, being willing to become a girl every evening, just to help me out.

"Finally, I began applying for jobs. I never realized how hopeless my dreams had been. No one was interested in a middle-aged woman with no experience. What's more, in this line of work you have to have a huge portfolio of makeovers you have done. All I had was Crystal, and I wasn't about to display photos of her.

"Eventually things got so bad that Christopher agreed to allow me to show off photos of Crystal. That, at least got me some interviews. But things didn't help much. Crystal looked beautiful, but she was just one facial type. I had to prove I could make-over women no matter what they looked like.

"I think I would have given up my dreams had my car not broken down and I had to have Christopher borrow a friend's car to pick me up."

Crystal giggled, and began to recite the story where Mary Ann left off. "So there I was, sitting in this office, listening to some gay beauty parlor owner tell Mom why he couldn't hire her. He holds up a picture of me as Crystal, then pauses. He looks over at me, then back at the photo, then at me again. His eyes get huge. Mom and I are terrified, obviously he figured out where Mom got her model. I was so relieved when he didn't mention it.

"But a week later, Mom gets a call from a friend of the hairdresser. Seems he has always wanted to look like a woman, but was too afraid to go to a beauty parlor. The guy Mom interviewed with told him about Mom's talent for beautifying men, and so he had called her. The guy paid five hundred bucks just for one make-over and photo session.

"After that, our phone never stopped ringing. People were calling from all over, begging to be made into women. It was pretty hysterical. Mom busts her rear learning the secrets of feminine beauty, and most of her customers are men!"

"But you!" I asked impatiently. "How come you are still dressing like that?"

"Well, when Mom started doing this full time, it was obvious that she needed an assistant. And since she couldn't afford to hire one, I worked for her. But we soon realized that something had to change. Men coming for female make-overs didn't feel comfortable with a teenage guy watching them; it made them ashamed. So before I knew it, I was going to work as Crystal."

Mary Ann resumed the story. "Crystal was an expensive investment. I had to pay for all kinds of makeup, cosmetics, and of course clothes. You never realize how expensive a teenage daughter can be until you've had to buy all her dresses in one week! Still, once Crystal was my assistant, all my clients felt at ease. And if they ever wanted proof of my talents, Crystal could simply take off her wig."

My head was spinning. "So how often are you dressed like that?" I asked the boy who was prettier than most girls I knew.

"Well, I haven't stopped dressing like this for over a year now. At first, I only did it evenings and weekends. But it was such a pain constantly changing from one identity to another. Soon I was Crystal non-stop, from Friday afternoon until Monday morning. I began to make friends as Crystal. I found myself almost thinking of myself as a girl. Finally, Mom began to worry that puberty would make it impossible for us to continue the ruse. I mean, if I grew a beard, I couldn't very well be her model, could I?

"We decided that the best course of action would for me to begin taking doses of estrogen. We figured that I could postpone the onset of male characteristics until I left for college. I was dressing like a girl so much by that time, it wasn't really a big sacrifice. We only made one mistake: we bought the hormones illegally, without consulting a doctor. And I ended up taking a just a bit too much."

"What happened?" I breathlessly asked.

"Well, I did end up going through puberty. Just as the wrong gender." Crystal began giggling so hard she couldn't go on. His mother continued.

"About half a year after Crystal began the hormones, I began to notice how it was gradually getting easier and easier to make him over. At first I chalked it up to experience, but soon I realized that wasn't the case. My son really was changing.

"His skin got softer. His hair grew silkier. I noticed him starting to fill out, the way a young woman would. I'll never forget the day I bought him his first bra. Obviously, he had to change schools, there was only so much you could cover with heavy clothes."

I was dumbfounded and scared. I hoped that my innocent foray into the other side of life would never go this far. "So what are your plans now?"

Crystal toyed with his blonde locks. I realized that his hair, unlike mine, was natural. "I'm not sure," he mused. "I really want to go to college next year, but I guess I should go back to being Christopher before then. I guess this summer I'll stop the estrogen, start taking some male hormones, and get on with my life."

"So," piped in Brenda, "now that you realize you are among friends, can we please get started?"

That was the last thing the three of them said to me the whole rest of the afternoon. I might as well have been a mannequin, for all the attention my opinions were given. After I was told to disrobe, I simply sat there shivering in my underwear, while the ladies decided how to do to me what had been done to Christopher.

The first thing Mary Ann said she must do was to give me a feminine figure. This was accomplished by squeezing me into a girdle so tight that I could barely breathe. "God, could you loosen that a little?" I begged. No such luck. "We have to pour you into a tight little prom dress," Mary Ann tittered. "Now," she said, turning to her 'daughter,' "what should be done about her chest?"

"Well," said Crystal, staring at my bare chest, "since there's no chest hair, why don't we use the glue-on kind?"

Glue on kind? I soon found out what that meant. Mary Ann slathered my chest with a goopy, yellow fluid. "It's a sort of epoxy," she explained. "It's powerful, but it comes right off with a little alcohol."

"But what exactly " I began. Then I saw Crystal coming towards me with a big grin. In each hand she held what appeared to be a woman's breast. Obviously fake, but they certainly jiggled and moved like the real thing (at least as the Playboy Channel would have me believe). "They're made of silicone and painted like the real things," said Crystal. "They won't pass close inspection, but under clothes they look very convincing." She pressed them to my chest and instructed me to lay back while the glue set.

"Are you sure they won't slip or anything?" I babbled.

"Oh yes. I used them myself until the hormones gave me my own." I glanced at Crystal's chest out of the corner of my eye. Though not huge, Crystal's boobs were certainly beauties. I couldn't believe they were growing on a guy.

"As long as she's laying down, why don't we get started on her makeup," suggested Mary Ann.

"Why do you keep calling me 'her'?" I complained. "You act like I'm really a girl."

"I apologize," smiled Mary Ann. "So many of my clients think of themselves as women that I always use feminine pronouns. Don't let it bother you."

I glanced at Brenda across the room. I expected to see her smirking, giggling at my discomfort. To my shock, she was smiling at me sweetly. She caught me looking at her and she winked at me. This made me relax a bit. Her approval meant a lot to me.

Mary Ann and Crystal spent the better part of an hour practicing the art of the make-over on me. As my boobs were still drying I couldn't sit up to see what they were doing. Lipstick, mascara brush, sponge, cotton balls, and eyeliner pencil flew before my dazed eyes. I even stoically submitted when they shaved my legs and armpits with electric clippers. Finally, it ended.

"Let me see," I begged, trying to look in a mirror.

"Not just yet, dear. Let's get you dressed first so you can see the finished product. Now sit up and see if your chest holds."

I climbed to a vertical position. My chest felt heavy; small wonder with my new appendages. While you could still see where they were attached, they looked eerily realistic. If I squinted, I could almost imagine I had grown them myself. I had to touch one to make sure it really wasn't mine.

"There you go," said Crystal. "Try not to look at them too much when you go out. It's tempting to glance at them, but you'll only draw suspicion to yourself. They'll be enough guys staring at them anyway."

I grimaced. "Anything else?"

"Be careful of them. Those are C cups, so you stick out more than you used to. Nothing's more embarrassing than knocking over your drink with your chest. Now lets get you dressed."

Brenda squealed with delight when she saw the gowns they had picked out. "Oh, Roberta, these are to die for! Oh, I wish I could dress you up like this all the time! Too bad you can only choose one."

"Yeah. Too bad."

"Now none of that, Ms. Pouty," chastised Crystal. "Try to enjoy yourself."

I looked the gowns over. "All of these show too much skin!" I whined.

"You have such a graceful back and shoulders," said Brenda. "You should really show them off."

I burned with humiliation. Graceful? That had nothing to do with clothes or padding. Obviously she thought I had a natural feminine quality about me. She'd have never said that to her thuggish ex. Obviously I wasn't the man he was.

And so, my back still to the mirrors, I tried on dresses. And accessories. Strapless dresses. Dresses with spaghetti straps. Off the shoulder, backless dresses. Dresses with ruffles and bows. Dresses that swept the floor, dresses that only came down to my knees. Dresses with full sleeves, dresses with none. Dark pantyhose, see through pantyhose, fishnet hose. Necklaces and bracelets. Clip on earrings. Purses. Even a variety of bras, to support my new cleavage without being seen. Finally, everyone (except me) came to a consensus.

It was in the form of a sleeveless, teal-green number. One shoulder was covered with ruffles, the other revealed my bare, freckled shoulder. It reached the floor. There were no bows, but there were lots of ruffles. My hose were light and my heels were black. I wore clip-on silver earrings and no other jewelry.

"Can I look now?" I pleaded.

"Just a minute," said Crystal. She then topped my head with a wig, a red one, more or less the same color as my own hair. "All set," she said.

I closed my eyes as the moved a full length mirror in front of me. I didn't know what I feared more: that I would look like a guy in drag and be suspect at prom, or that I'd look like a girl and never be a man in Brenda's eyes again. I looked.

And there she was. Roberta, Brenda's prom date. A cute, freckle-faced teenager, all dolled up for the big night. Thin, pale arms, skinny waist, and a surprisingly ample chest. She seemed nervous, and a little unsteady on her heels. Her makeup was flawless, obviously professionally done. I didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

"So what do you think?" Asked Mary Ann. She looked hopeful. Obviously she took great pride in her work. It would be mean to tell her what I really thought of what I'd become.

"Very convincing," I commented. "You'd never guess."

"To say the least," said Brenda, sneaking up behind me and planting a kiss on my neck. "You're a doll, Roberta!" A doll. That's what she thinks of her boyfriend. I wondered how long we'd be together, before someone manly took my place.

"You'll have to return the afternoon before prom," Mary Ann informed me. "If you think we did a good job now, just wait until we get through with you next time!" Yippee.

Mary Ann and Crystal left to look after other, more traditional customers in the beauty salon, leaving me to change back into the outfit I had come in.

"Well, I hope this makes you happy, Brenda," I said, not without a trace of bitterness.

"Happy?" she asked. She then pounced on me, pinning me against the wall, and began devouring me with kisses. Our lipstick smeared together. I felt closer to her and more turned on than every before. Abruptly she pulled away and looked down. I followed her eyes. My arousal hadn't only men mental. I was now expanding my dress in a most unladylike manner.

"We'll have to do something about that when we go out," she laughed. "Get dressed, then we'll go home."

Soon the day of prom was upon us. I didn't know whether to be happy or miserable. I mean, that day several years ago when Andy threw me out, I never would have guessed that I was going to be the one taking Brenda to prom. Brenda had been talking about it all week, subtly mentioning that the fun we were going to have wouldn't end when the dance was over.

But it all seemed ridiculous. I mean, I was going in a gown! I was going to try to look curvaceous and pretty. How could I enjoy prom like that? I kept hinting that we'd have more fun if I went in a tux, but Brenda would always remind me of Andy's threats. I wished I were manly enough to stand up to her.

The plan was that Brenda would drop me off at Mary Ann's beauty salon in the early afternoon. Mary Ann and Crystal would give me a make-over, while Brenda readied herself at her own house. She'd then pick me up and take me to prom.

If Mary Ann and Crystal were careful when they first transformed me, they were absolutely meticulous this time. They took care of every detail. They scoured my skin for even the slightest hair, which they quickly plucked with tweezers. They filed my nails down to perfection, then delicately painted them red. My makeup was applied, removed, and reapplied. They forced me to walk back and forth across the dressing room until they concluded that my walk was sufficiently feminine. They coached me on my speech. I don't exactly have a manly voice, so it wasn't hard to sound like a husky-voiced girl.

The most embarrassing part of the ordeal came when Mary Ann revealed that Brenda had told her about my erection the previous time. I hid my face. "Nothing to be ashamed of," said Mary Ann. "But we do have to cover it up." She handed me a pair of rubber panties. "These should be tight enough to contain anything." I struggled into them behind the screen. They were almost painfully restrictive, but tight enough that I didn't have to worry about anything showing up when I was dancing close with Brenda.

After about three hours of preparation, I was finished. Brenda arrived at that moment, in a cloud of perfume. We stood in front of the mirror and stared.

Brenda had worn her hair up. Her dress was strapless, exposing the top of her ample chest and silky, bare arms. Her gown glittered due to the sequins sewed into it. She looked lovelier than I had ever seen her. At that moment, I would have done anything for her.

She was looking at me intently. "Wow, Roberta, you're beautiful. My God, you put me to shame!" I regarded my reflection. The green of my dress accentuated the red of my wig. My freckled shoulder and arms stood out smooth and weak. The prosthetics gave me an hourglass figure. I really did look kind of cute.

"So what do you think?" asked Crystal, looking rather cute himself in a simple skirt and top.

"Great job. I don't think anyone will notice."

"I'll say!" agreed Brenda. "I'm walking into prom tonight on the arm of the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"

"So am I," I smiled. We both blushed a bit.

"I have something for you," I told Brenda. Reaching into my gym bag, I pulled out a small box. I removed the corsage I had purchased for her and pinned it to her wrist. It was the one manly gesture I could make that evening: buying a flower for my date.

Brenda looked like she was about to melt in my arms. "That is so sweet! I can't remember the last time anyone bought me a flower. Andy never..." she stopped short. She knew I didn't like hearing about Andy, even in a negative sense.

"I have something for you, too," giggled Brenda. Wouldn't you know, she had bought me a flower as well. A white carnation, with green tinge to match my dress. As she pinned it to my wrist, my humiliation was complete: my date pinning a corsage to me. What could be more girlish?

"I'm so jealous," sighed Crystal. "Wish I was coming as well." I wondered what was going on in Crystal's mind. It seems that there was more to the ruse then helping out Mary Ann. I wondered if Crystal would follow through with the plan to return to manhood after high school.

"Try not to break too many hearts, girls," smiled Mary Ann as we left.

I was silent as Brenda drove me to her high school. Since I knew almost no one at her school, I was certain no one would recognize me. But what if they saw through my disguise?

"Brenda?"

"Yes, Roberta?"

"You don't think anyone will realize I'm a guy, do you?"

"I don't think they'd believe you if you told them."

"What about Andy?"

"Who?"

"Andy, you know, your ex. The reason I'm dressed this way." After all the trouble I went to, it certainly annoyed me that Andy had slipped her mind.

"Oh oh, yes of course. I'm sure he'll be angry, but what can he do?" Two weeks ago she'd been scared to death of him, now she didn't seemed concerned. Too late now, we had arrived.

I braced myself. "Tell me again why I'm doing this."

"Because you care about me enough to swallow your pride and be there for me when I need you."

"Are you sure we have to do this?"

"You know, my parents are in Chicago this weekend. Maybe after prom we could try out the new hot tub."

"I didn't bring my swimsuit."

"So?" Brenda hopped out of the car. Numbly, I followed.

I looked around at the crowd milling in front of the high school. Dozens of young women, looking exquisite in their dresses. Dozens of young men, looking both handsome and uncomfortable in their tuxes.

I looked wistfully at a guy who was even shorter and skinnier than me, arrive on the arm of a girl just as pretty as Brenda. Why wasn't I that guy?

"Brenda!" a feminine voice squealed. I turned to see a group of three lovely girls, obviously friends of Brenda, approaching. "So glad you decided to come!"

"Candy, Cindi, Angie! I wouldn't have missed it for their world." She kissed each one on their cheek.

"So are you double dating tonight?" one of the girls asked, smiling at me.

"Not exactly. Remember how Andy threatened to punch out anyone who showed up with me?" The girls nodded, angrily. "Well, I'd like you to meet Roberta my date for the evening!"

There was a stunned silence. This was it, how would they react? I breathed a sigh of relief when they all burst into joyful laughter.

"That's so wonderful!" one of them giggled as they all hugged both Brenda and myself. "Andy can't fight with a woman, can he? Good thinking!" I began to feel relief. Not only was I passing as a girl, but also no one seemed to think Brenda's plan was odd. We all made our way to the front door.

"Brenda!" I recognized the fingernails-on-chalkboard sound of the voice, even before I turned around. There was Andy, as ugly and burly as I remembered him. This was it.

"Oh, it's you," said Brenda, with bored contempt. Brenda's friends glowered at Andy.

"Yeah, me. Your boyfriend. What are you doing here? I thought I warned you."

"We broke up, Nimrod. I'm enjoying prom, without you."

Andy turned red. "So you wanna spend the night alone, eh? Fine. I'll be here when you get bored."

"Oh, I didn't come alone," smirked Brenda.

Andy literally bellowed. "Where's the dead man? Where is he?" He balled his hands into fists. I was glad Brenda hadn't let me come as Robert, that would have been deadly.

Brenda smiled sweetly. "Right here. Andy, this is my date, Roberta. Roberta, Andy."

"Charmed, I'm sure," I managed to stammer, appearing more confident then I felt.

Andy stood there for a few seconds, trying to decide if we were joking. Roberta linked her arm with mine. "Come, Roberta, let's get a table."

"What the hell!" screamed Andy. "Are you some kinda lesbo freak?" He was furious.

"No, I just wanted to go to prom with someone nice. And a better dancer, I might add."

Brenda apparently thought that would be the end of things, but she was wrong. With bruising pressure, Andy grabbed both of us by the arm. "You sick perverts! I ought to slap some sense into both of you!" I looked to Brenda for help, but she was petrified. Andy's jealousy was obviously much more intense than she had anticipated.

"I ought to take the both of you and show you what it's like to have a real man!" Oh dear, God, this wasn't happening.

"I'm getting a teacher!" screamed one of Brenda's friends.

At that moment, I was aware of a large presence behind us. Andy looked up at something over our shoulders and released Brenda and myself. We rubbed our arms, painfully, then turned and looked.

Two big high school guys were standing behind us. One was quite handsome, he reminded me a bit of George Clooney. He was tall, his tux was neat, and he had an easy smile. His good looks were marred slightly by a butterfly bandage across the bridge of his nose.

Next to him stood a guy who appeared to belong in the 'assent of man' exhibit at the museum. He was a huge barrel chested guy, whose arms seems just slightly longer than his legs. I got the impression it took conscious mental effort for him to stand on only two feet. His tux was too small; his hairy wrists poked a good length out of his sleeves. His brow was large and bony, and a missing front tooth completed his simian appearance.

"What's up?" smiled the handsome guy. "Andy, the way you were hollering, you would have thought they'd canceled the Flintstones."

Andy shook with rage. "I'll tell you what's up, Gabe! Brenda shows up to prom with another chick! She's turning into some kind of faggot sicko!"

Gabe, the good-looking guy, chuckled. "Just like on Jerry Springer, eh Jay?" he nudged his ape-like companion, who grunted.

"I'm not about to let my girlfriend go to a dance with some lesbian slut!" barked Andy.

"Now hold on there, slick," said Gabe. "I seem to recall her dumping you a while back. I think you need to back off, just a bit."

"Who's gonna make me?"

Gabe continued to look Andy in the eye. He was still smiling with his mouth, but no longer with his eyes. Jay cracked his knuckles. It sounded like a string of firecrackers going off. "Maybe you ought to go on inside," suggested Gabe, coldly.

Andy vacillated for minute, wondering if taking on the two big guys was worth it. It wasn't. He stormed off in the direction of the parking lot. "You'll come crawling back!" he screamed back at Brenda.

We let a collective sigh of relief. "You were fantastic," gushed Brenda. I turned around to thank her and realized that she wasn't talking to me. She was talking to Gabe.

"It was nothing," he humbly replied. "Now why don't we all go inside?" Brenda smiled at him sweetly. I followed alongside Jay's hulking frame. I burned with humiliation and anger. Here I am, prom night, dressed in a gown and heels, and Brenda's gushing over another guy! Maybe he did drive Andy off, but I was the one making the big sacrifice.

We entered the crepe paper festooned gymnasium. Much to my annoyance, Gabe and Jay joined us at our table. Soon everyone was talking and laughing. Everyone except me, that is. It seems Brenda had practically forgotten that I was her date. It was just as I feared; here were two guys, football players no less, stealing Brenda away from me, right under my nose. And I could do nothing about it! Even though Brenda was supposed to be my date, I couldn't act jealous, not without making Brenda look like a homosexual.

The worst humiliation was yet to come. I had assumed that Brenda would at least dance with me. No such luck. As soon as a slow number started, Jay asked, in a series of barely coherent monosyllables, if Brenda would like to dance. Foolish me, I had expected her to protest. Nope, without so much as a look in my direction, they were out on the dance floor.

I wanted the evening to be over. How could Brenda do this to me? Convince me to become Roberta, then waltz off with another guy! I winced when I heard her giggling at something Jay had said. Accounts of the latest mammoth hunt, no doubt.

I became uncomfortably aware that Gabe and I were alone at the table together. Poor guy, he had probably hoped to dance with Brenda, only to have his friend beat him to the punch. In an attempt to lighten the mood, I asked him a bit about himself.

He was seventeen, like myself, and a football player of course. Not egotistical, he kept trying to turn the conversation to things about me. I quickly demurred; Roberta didn't actually exist.

"So," he said, apropos of nothing, "would you like to dance?" I was too stunned to reply. Just when I thought the evening couldn't possibly get any worse, just when I'm at my lowest peak, sitting there in a prom dress and heels with my date dancing with another guy, this happens!

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I joked, praying he had only asked out of pity for me.

"No problem," he grinned. He stood up and offered me his hand. Not tonight, buddy.

"No thanks, I don't feel like it."

"C'mon, it's prom night. You have to dance."

"I said I don't feel like it." Embarrassed, Gabe sat down again. Conversation died.

As the night wore on, I began to feel sorry for Gabe as well as myself. He had just risked a fight with Andy to protect us, and I wouldn't even dance with him. Well, his tough luck. I already had a date. Of course, she hadn't even looked in my direction for half an hour. She hadn't even noticed me

I looked over at Gabe, who looked terribly bored. Maybe if we danced, Brenda would get jealous.

I waited until the DJ played a fast number, one that we couldn't possibly slow dance to. Then I stood up. "Let's go," I said.

I refused to let him take my hand as we entered the dance floor. Since the music was so fast he had no call to touch me, and soon we were tearing it up. I was never the greatest dancer, but I managed to move in time to the beat, more or less. Standing a couple of feet in front of Gabe, it wasn't hard to imagine that we weren't even partners. Before I knew it, we'd been dancing about an hour.

In spite of myself, I was having an OK time. Every slow number, I'd sit out. Gabe danced with a couple of his friends, I turned down a couple of offers to dance from other boys, much to my chagrin. I lost track of time and was surprised when the DJ announced the last dance of the evening.

This was it. If I were to get in one dance with Brenda, it had to be now. I gazed across the gym till I saw her. Much to my horror, she was in Jay's arms. And her head was resting on his shoulder. My fury was absolute.

"Shall we?" Gabe had snuck up on me. I was too pissed to say no. He gingerly placed his hands on my hips, I placed my hands on his neck. I'd be damned if I was going to sit out the last dance. I'd give Brenda a piece of my mind after this. Not a chance in hell I'd ever want to see her again.

"Mind if I cut in?" It was Brenda. She looked at us shyly. My blood boiled. After everything she put me through, now she wants to dance with Gabe as well? Just to make sure I see her with not one, but two guys?

Gabe shrugged, and moved towards Brenda. "Nope," she smiled. "I figure I should get the last dance with the person I came with." She gently took my hands in hers.

I guess my shock showed. "So who should lead?" Brenda giggled. Logically, it should have been me; I was the true man. But of course, Brenda led. Why shouldn't she have? She controlled everything else in the relationship.

Just when it seemed my date had actually remembered me, it was over. The DJ thanked everyone, and the house lights went on. Couples began straggling towards the door.

I had hoped something of the evening could be salvaged. I had fed my mother a line of bull about spending the night with a friend (good thing she never asked to meet these imaginary friends). Brenda and I could be together all night. Maybe I could count on some alone time.

Nope. Gabe and Jay insisted on escorting us out into the parking lot. I kept my arms tight against my body so that Gabe couldn't take my arm.

"Well, ladies, the night is young," said Gabe in his suave voice. "What say we have a late night snack?"

I swear Brenda was going to agree. I know she was opening her mouth to say yes. It was at that time I took my only stand of the evening.

"No, I'm sorry, we can't," I stated firmly. "It's almost my curfew." Then I quickly added "and Brenda's my ride." At this point, I didn't know if I could count on Brenda not to ditch me for her handsome friends.

"Um, yeah, we have to go." Brenda sounded almost regretful.

"Too bad," said Jay, his longest sentence of the evening.

"Well, Red," said Gabe, looking at me, "I really enjoyed myself." Red? He's trying to give me a cute nickname now? Oh God, how I wanted to go home. Then I saw something that made me realize that I would be dumping Brenda as soon as we were in private. She was kissing Jay!

Not with tongue, but she was kissing him! My own date, kissing another guy. I started to head for the car. Gabe blocked my way.

Now that I play the scene back in my mind, it seems like there was so much I could have done to prevent it. I could have jumped back, or ducked, or slapped his face, or anything. But I froze. Who could blame me, it's not like a boy had ever tried to kiss me before.

It was over before it began. His face moved in, our lips touched, he backed off. And my life would never be the same. Till the day I died, I could never erase the fact that I had kissed another guy.

It took all my self-control to compose myself. Wordlessly, I got in Brenda's car, ignoring Gabe calling "Maybe I could call you some time?"

When Brenda slid into the driver's seat, I expected her to say something. Anything. Sorry for abandoning me, sorry for making me dress like that, thanks for my patience, something! But she was silent. She simply smiled all the way home, humming one of the songs she had danced with Jay to.

It was only when we pulled into her garage that the realized I had kept a stony silence the whole way home. "Roberta, honey, is something wrong?"

I was so mad, I could barely get the words out. "Something wrong? I don't know, let me see. You force me to dress up like a girl, parade me around in front of your friends, I nearly get my face bashed in by your ex, and then, after that, you spend the whole evening with another guy! Yeah, I guess something is wrong!" I didn't even mention getting kissed by Gabe; some things are too humiliating for words.

"But Roberta," protested Brenda, "I had to dance with Jay. I mean, he really helped us out there! I couldn't deny him a dance."

"A dance, sure. But did you have to spend the whole evening with him?"

"Well, I kind of lost track of time. And then you seemed to be having so much fun dancing with Gabe..."

I was so furious I wanted to smash something. "I was dancing with Gabe so I wouldn't have to spend the whole night watching my date dance with someone else. Thanks for penciling me in for the last five minutes of prom. I'm going to change back into my boy clothes, then I'm calling a cab. Goodbye forever." I meant it too.

Brenda looked stunned, then scared. "I'm sorry Roberta...I mean Robert. I guess when it came down to it, I was afraid what people would think if I danced the whole night with a woman."

"And you didn't stop to think how I'd feel, getting dressed up like a girl and then ignored?"

Brenda touched my cheek. "I guess I didn't think. I guess I wouldn't blame you for dumping me."

"Is that what you want?" I was still angry, but I wasn't sure I was ready to walk out on her anymore.

"No. That is exactly what I DON'T want. I've had so much fun with you all this time, honey. I didn't realize it at first, but you're everything I want in a relationship. If you feel like leaving, I suppose I deserve it, but I'll still be here waiting if you change your mind." Brenda placed her arm around my bare neck. Soon we were kissing.

Just as my hand started to play with the zipper down the back of her dress, she pulled away. "I have a surprise for you," she smiled.

"What kind of surprise?" I asked, remembering what she had said about the hot tub earlier.

"Come on inside. I'm going to change first. Your surprise is in the hall bathroom, under the sink."

As Brenda disappeared into her room, I slunk into the bathroom. What kind of surprise would it be? I eagerly threw open the cabinet under the sink. There I found a beribboned box. With no time to lose, I tore it open.

Inside was the silkiest, laciest, more feminine nightie I had ever seen. It would leave almost nothing to the imagination. My sequestered manhood began to strain against the rubber panties. Brenda obviously intended to wear this for me! And, I supposed, take it off for me as well! Tonight I would become a man. To think I ever thought about breaking it off with her!

Still in my gown, I dashed over to her room. I'd give her the nightie to slip into, then I'd begin the arduous process of removing my makeup, nail polish, and fake breasts. Gently, I knocked on her door.

"Enter," she whispered, sensuously. As my eyes adjusted to the darkened bedroom, they nearly popped out of my head. Brenda lay dreamily on her wide bed. She was wearing her earrings, her panties, and not a stitch more. She dreamily ran her red nails over her bare side.

Nothing else existed for me at that moment. I forgot about my dress, or the lacy garment that Brenda was going to put on for me. All I could think about was touching my dream girl. But when I moved toward her, she motioned for me to halt.

"Not one step closer until you put that on," she said, gesturing to the skimpy lingerie I was holding.

I was flabbergasted. "But I thought I thought this was for you!" I whined.

"Nope. Roberta was my date for prom, and I'd really like to see her in that."

"Aren't we carrying this a bit too far?"

"If you don't want to play by my rules, Roberta, then that's your choice." She gestured to the Monopoly board on her table. "I'll let you be the Scottie dog."

She had to be bluffing. Prom was one thing, but this? I moved toward her. Wordlessly, she picked up her bra and began to put it back on.

What could I do? After everything I had already done this evening, I wasn't about to stay a virgin just because I wouldn't wear some lingerie. "I'll be right back," I gasped, then ran off to the bathroom.

Yes, I knew what a sissy I'd be by doing this, but after prom, it's not like I had much pride left. The thought of actually touching Brenda's body made every other thought slip away. Quickly I removed my dress and hung it up. With great happiness I removed my heels and nylons. I ripped off the rubber panties and tossed them in the garbage. I wanted to remove my fake breasts as well, but that required alcohol and I didn't want to waste time looking for some. I slipped myself into the feminine lace and looked in the mirror. My wig and makeup were still perfect. Only a slight bulge at the crotch and a thin seam where my boobs attached gave me away. I sauntered into Brenda's room.

"Oh Roberta, you look so darling. Come here, honey. Come here and let me hold you." And now, dear reader, the rest I leave to your imagination.

(continued)