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Description
After more lessons on walking in high heels and getting more comfortable in more feminine clothing my mother decided it would be time for me to go out into the public. To say I was nervous was an understatement, I was terrified.

“Mom please don’t make me go out, this only has to stay between us and grandma.” I whined

“No, you need to get used to being a girl and I’m not letting you borrow any more of my clothes, we need to get you your own wardrobe.” She said sternly.

“What! Mom you can’t be serious!” I exclaimed.

“I am very serious, besides I know how much you love high heels so we need to get extra. At least two pairs for each outfit.” She said, while starting to pack each of our purses with essentials like lipgloss, tampons(even though I don’t have a vagina!) makeup kit, and money.

“Mom please. Don’t do this” I whined again, attempting to persuade my mother.

“It’s happening, end of story. Now go grab your heels it’s time to go.” She says.

I huffed, crossed my arms in frustration and pouted, scrunching my nose accidentally in the process. Seeing as she gave no response I gave in and walked to my now feminine room and put on my lowest pair of high heels. I fastened the T-strap heels onto my now dainty feet, I hated how feminine my life had become.

We arrived at the mall, my mother immediately pointed out two guys about my age.

“They look cute, huh? She says nudging my shoulder.

I stared at her in disbelief. “Ugh, ew, mom I don’t like boys.” I said in my newly learned feminine accent.

She giggled and continued walking. However we walked past the clothing stores, before I had the opportunity to ask my mother where we were going she pulled me into the salon. I had no time to process what was happening. I was sat down in a chair and bombarded with hair curlers, brushes, nail polish, mascara, lipstick, etc. they took off my shoes showing off my delicate feet to the world and started working on my toenails. I was given a French manicure finish on both my hands and feet. The entire time I was complimented on how good I looked. This made me even more embarrassed, but all I could do was smile and act like a girl who enjoyed the attention. Saying things like “thank you so much, you look great too.” I guess my training paid off because no one suspected a thing. When they finished I finally got to my mother who apparently recorded the entire interaction. She showed me the video, she showed me how feminine I’ve really become, I looked like I actually enjoyed being a girl. She teased me and brought me to the clothing store where we spent 5 hours picking out different outfits. By the end of the day my feet had gone through 43 different pairs of high heels. My mother even had me try on some prom dresses, I hated it. The feeling of every one starring at me while I was fitted for the revealing dresses was agonizing. When we finally finished I went to pick up some of the bags when my mother stopped me.

“Emily honey, you don’t need to carry those, that job is for a big strong man like Jacob here.” She said pointing at the employee who would help with the luggage.

In that very moment I wanted to cry, I hated how I felt so powerless. I was a shell of my former self, so dainty and week. I was dressed in a skirt and heels while a real man would be dressed in pants and sneakers. I hated this, but there was nothing I could do except for apologize.

When we arrived at the car and Jacob finished loading the many bags my mother interrupted.

“Honey don’t you have something you would like to say to mr Jacob here?” She says eyeing me.

“What?” I say confused.

“A good girl always thanks a strong man that has helped her.” She says slyly.

“Oh, right.” I say grudgingly. “Thank you Jacob it really means a lot” I say in my girliest voice, even rocking on my tippy toes and fiddling with my fingers. I hated what I just did, I hated how good and believable it looked.

“No problem ladies.” He says and walks off.

To be continued…

Description
After more lessons on walking in high heels and getting more comfortable in more feminine clothing my mother decided it would be time for me to go out into the public. To say I was nervous was an understatement, I was terrified.

“Mom please don’t make me go out, this only has to stay between us and grandma.” I whined

“No, you need to get used to being a girl and I’m not letting you borrow any more of my clothes, we need to get you your own wardrobe.” She said sternly.

“What! Mom you can’t be serious!” I exclaimed.

“I am very serious, besides I know how much you love high heels so we need to get extra. At least two pairs for each outfit.” She said, while starting to pack each of our purses with essentials like lipgloss, tampons(even though I don’t have a vagina!) makeup kit, and money.

“Mom please. Don’t do this” I whined again, attempting to persuade my mother.

“It’s happening, end of story. Now go grab your heels it’s time to go.” She says.

I huffed, crossed my arms in frustration and pouted, scrunching my nose accidentally in the process. Seeing as she gave no response I gave in and walked to my now feminine room and put on my lowest pair of high heels. I fastened the T-strap heels onto my now dainty feet, I hated how feminine my life had become.

We arrived at the mall, my mother immediately pointed out two guys about my age.

“They look cute, huh? She says nudging my shoulder.

I stared at her in disbelief. “Ugh, ew, mom I don’t like boys.” I said in my newly learned feminine accent.

She giggled and continued walking. However we walked past the clothing stores, before I had the opportunity to ask my mother where we were going she pulled me into the salon. I had no time to process what was happening. I was sat down in a chair and bombarded with hair curlers, brushes, nail polish, mascara, lipstick, etc. they took off my shoes showing off my delicate feet to the world and started working on my toenails. I was given a French manicure finish on both my hands and feet. The entire time I was complimented on how good I looked. This made me even more embarrassed, but all I could do was smile and act like a girl who enjoyed the attention. Saying things like “thank you so much, you look great too.” I guess my training paid off because no one suspected a thing. When they finished I finally got to my mother who apparently recorded the entire interaction. She showed me the video, she showed me how feminine I’ve really become, I looked like I actually enjoyed being a girl. She teased me and brought me to the clothing store where we spent 5 hours picking out different outfits. By the end of the day my feet had gone through 43 different pairs of high heels. My mother even had me try on some prom dresses, I hated it. The feeling of every one starring at me while I was fitted for the revealing dresses was agonizing. When we finally finished I went to pick up some of the bags when my mother stopped me.

“Emily honey, you don’t need to carry those, that job is for a big strong man like Jacob here.” She said pointing at the employee who would help with the luggage.

In that very moment I wanted to cry, I hated how I felt so powerless. I was a shell of my former self, so dainty and week. I was dressed in a skirt and heels while a real man would be dressed in pants and sneakers. I hated this, but there was nothing I could do except for apologize.

When we arrived at the car and Jacob finished loading the many bags my mother interrupted.

“Honey don’t you have something you would like to say to mr Jacob here?” She says eyeing me.

“What?” I say confused.

“A good girl always thanks a strong man that has helped her.” She says slyly.

“Oh, right.” I say grudgingly. “Thank you Jacob it really means a lot” I say in my girliest voice, even rocking on my tippy toes and fiddling with my fingers. I hated what I just did, I hated how good and believable it looked.

“No problem ladies.” He says and walks off.

To be continued…