Copyright 2005 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Please note: the twelve parts of this story depict sex between males, between minors and between adults and minors. They depict oral, anal and vaginal sex as well as incest, rape, sadomasochism and transvestitism. If any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.
All names, characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
Fall, Year 2
As my senior year started, two significant milestones occured.
First Mom announced she was pregnant. I guessed that she and Keith had figured she was too old to have kids and so didn't use condoms. She was due the end of April.
Dad of course, the cuckold husband, acted pleased. He would take on the role as the proud new daddy. There was no reason for anyone outside our family to think otherwise. And in all honesty, he seemed pleased that he would be a granddaddy.
Mom was all giddy with excitement. She sat me down and taught me how to knit. We began making booties and caps and blankets for a layette.
But for Keith, this completely changed his demeanor. Suddenly, he realized sex wasn't just a game. It had consequences. He stopped taking his girlfriends out to lover's lane. He no longer showed any interest in fucking me or even humiliating me. He dismantled the bdsm stuff from the basement. I think he stopped using drugs. And he began doing his own chores, like he needed to prove to himself at least that he was a responsible human being. He moved back into our old bedroom but still fucked Mom occasionally, at least until she started getting really big. Then he would just lean his head on her tummy and listen for his baby kicking.
I missed his abuse, I admit, but now I had grown to the point where I no longer needed him. I was becoming a self-assured, competent young woman. That is, except in school. When I drove to school each day, I was dressed as a 16 going on 17 year old boy. I felt extremely awkward. As soon as I got home, I changed my clothes, put on my makeup and relaxed. At home I could take off my false male costume and be my true self. I even considered dropping out of school. And that's why I went to see Ms. Harrington, one of the guidance counselors.
Harrington wasn't happy to hear about my wish to drop out.
"You're so close to graduation, Francis." I sat looking at her statuesque frame seated behind her desk and listening to her deep sultry voice. She actually sounded kind of sexy, I thought.
"Yeah, but I don't feel right here any more, Ms. H."
"Is it because of your clothes?" I frowned and looked at her quizically. Why did she say that, I wondered. She went on, "Would you rather be in your girl's clothes?"
"Shit! . . . I'm sorry, Ms. H. But how did you know that?"
"Word gets around, Francis. People have seen you driving around town, and I myself was at the pool the day you wore your girl's swimsuit." Then she smiled, "You didn't look half bad, young lady."
I lowered my eyes and mumbled a thank you. I didn't know whether to run out or deny it. I decided instead to open up. "Yeah, well, I kind of like dressing that way sometimes."
"I can understand that."
"You can? Yeah, well, you don't know what it's like being in high school and all and not knowing if you're a girl or a boy, and thinking you're one and dressing like the other and . . ."
"Yes I do."
I looked straight at Ms. H. She was giving me a look that wasn't condescending, or disgusted, or shocked. It was warm, sympathetic, understanding. "Do you mean?"
"Yes, Frances, let me show you something." She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. "I hate this picture but I always carry it with me as a reminder." She showed me an old photo of a marine. I studied it. He was handsome and looked real smart in his uniform. I looked carefully at his face and then I realized. "Hey, this is you."
"In a way. At least it was who I was pretending to be. I enjoyed taking orders. I even enjoyed fooling people into thinking I was macho. But even before high school I knew I was in the wrong body." She put the picture away. "Lots of times I felt like dropping out of school, but I stuck it out. And as you see I stuck it out in the military also. That gave me the money to go to college and also pay for my surgery. So I don't entirely regret it."
"You think I should enlist?"
"Hell, no. But you've got some tough decisions to make, and I want you to know I'm here for you. I just don't want you to give up."
"But I don't think I can stick it out another year."
"How about one semester?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've got enough credits to graduate in January."
"No shit, really?"
"Yeah, Frances. You'll be 17 then and I think you should apply to the community college."
"But I don't want to keep on going to classes. I want to start living like a woman."
"Then go ahead."
"You mean in college, I could pretend I'm female?"
"You can if you're careful."
"But my school record. It says I'm a boy."
"Hell, the admissions departments don't look all that closely at the records. I'll help you fill out the forms. Maybe you could misspell your first name `by accident.' And with your nice long blond hair, even your photo won't give you away."
My fall semester, my final days in high school, took on new purpose. I worked hard to keep all my grades up. I checked out the local community college. I saw a lot of Ms. Harrington.
It was a small graduation. Only six of us finished up midyear. Four of them should have graduated last June but needed to make up courses they'd failed. I loved the ceremony. In my long gown, you couldn't tell if I was a boy or a girl. Ms. Harrington began to call out our names one by one and each graduate went up and the principal handed him or her a diploma and shook their hands. With such a small group there was plenty of time for everyone to get their pictures taken. When Ms. H. called my name, I wasn't sure in she said "Francis" or "Frances." Dad took my picture. Mom sat there beaming. Keith was beside her resting his hand on Mom's belly. When I sat down and looked at my diploma, I glanced up at Ms. H. and we both smiled. She had "accidentally" written "Francine."
The day after graduation, I put on a nice blouse, tight pants, and pumps. I got my makeup on, took my suede jacket and headed out to the car. First I took all my boys' clothes to the Salvation Army store. It was like burying the old boy. Then I drove over to the college to register. The woman behind the counter took my application form and never raised an eyebrow. I'd passed the test.
At the end of the first week of classes, one of the girls in my English Lit. class asked if I wanted to get some coffee. We drove to a Starbucks a few blocks away and sat down.
"How long have you been doing this?" she asked.
"Doing what?"
"Cross-dressing?"
I gasped. Shit! The jig was up. I started to stand up, to get out of there, but she grabbed my wrist. It was a strong grip. I sat back down. "How did you know?"
"The way you walk. The way you talk. As they say, it takes one to know one."
"What? You telling me you're a guy too?"
"Well, I got a cock. But that doesn't make me a guy, you know. Look, I know what you're going through. I've been there. I think you can use some help, that's all."
"Like what?"
"Like lessons, honey. You got most people fooled here but you're still not ready to carry it off."
"I guess I haven't had much practice."
"Exactly! Give me six weeks and I'll have you so feminine, Hugh Hefner will want to hire you." I had visions of Dad's skin mags.
Lisa and I met every afternoon at her apartment. She taught me how girls talk, how they walk, how they fold their arms. She showed me what I was doing wrong with my clothes.
After a couple weeks, I brought her home for dinner. Keith thought she was a knockout and despite his resolution to be the good father, he started hitting on her.
I enjoyed spending time with Lisa. We even went on a few double dates. With her experience, she knew how to keep things from getting out of hand. Alfie and Harry, however, knew we were chicks with dicks, and were turned on by it. We partied with them several times. They always started by taking us to a local gay bar which featured a drag queen show on Friday nights. After a few drinks, and some great entertainment, we'd then drive over to Alfie's place, and have a small orgy. I learned a lot about sex from watching Lisa and imitating her.
Dad and I slept together now, as did Keith and Mom. As Mom got closer to her due date, she apparently didn't feel comfortable getting fucked, so Keith looked a little frustrated. He fucked me a couple times "for old times sake" and also asked me drive him to lover's lane a few times. But he always asked me politely for these favors and thanked me afterwards. The master/slave days were over.
On April Fool's Day, Mom's water broke in the morning. I was the only one home, so I drove her to the hospital, and left cell messages for Dad and Keith. Keith got a ride after school and arrived while Mom was still having contractions. We each held Mom's hands, one on each side while the nurse measured her dilation. Soon the doctor was summoned and Keith expertly coached Mom on her breathing until baby Jennifer entered the world. A beautiful little girl, with no offending little dick like her older sister. Dad arrived after work and he and Keith stood at the side of the bed with their arms around each other's shoulders watching little Jennie nurse on Mom's tit, probably both a little jealous, but sporting two huge proud papa smiles. I was jealous too that my mammaries would never produce any milk. Of course, at her age, Mom needed to have her supply supplemented anyway.
At home, all four of us pitched in to do all the new chores that Jennifer's arrival entailed. It was fun for me to watch Keith take on his new domestic responsibilities, awkwardly at first, but with great spirit. He learned to give his daughter her 2am formula. He bathed her. Played with her. Guarded her sleep. Even changed her shitty diaper. Dad too assisted for she was his daughter as well. I didn't recall him ever assisting with Keith's baby care, but I was very young then. Keith took tons of pictures of Jennie so he could bring them to school and show his friends his baby "sister."
About a week after the birth, while Dad and I watched the baby, Mom and Keith retired to the bedroom and from the sound of things resumed their fucking. Dad winked at me and we smiled at each other. It was great so see our family so happy. Jennifer had brought peace and joy into our lives.