Christine II: Transformation

As I walked slowly to the tent, my mind went back to the momentous time in the bath at Gail’s house when she had noticed that we were indeed different. “Christopher!” she had exclaimed. “You got something growing on you!” We were 4 or 5 at the time.

After a few puzzled moments of fact finding, I learned that she was talking about those parts that I had and she didn’t. Aunt Julia was there and explained as well as she could to a four year old that a boy’s penis was used for peeing, which was why we called it my wee-wee. Only partly satisfied, Gail demanded to know about the little sack that contained my tiny testicles. Actually I didn’t know myself why they were there, only that it hurt like hell when they were squeezed or struck. But Aunt Julia patiently explained that right now they don’t do anything at all, but later on they would grow and turn me into a man, with all the characteristics of our fathers: deeper voice, hairy bodies, big strong muscles, and so on. She seemed to have satisfied Gail, but she had unwittingly planted a seed of doubt in my mind. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted a deeper voice, and I knew for sure I didn’t want all that hair all over my body. Nonetheless, Gail had had her curiosity satisfied for the moment and asked no questions, even though we continued to bathe together for several years. She had handled it from time to time, even caused the odd erection which again triggered an explanation from either my mom or Aunt Julia, whoever happened to be there. When we learned why it got stiff and what men did with it then, we were both totally grossed out!

“But... don’t you have any shorts or anything?” I asked as Gail went through her things.
“Nahhh... I hate pants!” she explained. “Even shorts. Dresses are so much more comfortable! And in this hot weather these sun dresses are so cool it’s almost like having nothing on. You’ll see.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet!” I said ruefully .“Just what I always wanted to do, go around a campground naked.”

“First you need underwear,” she said. She presented me with a pair of flowered cotton panties with lace trim on the waist and legs. I shed the robe I was wearing and pulled the panties over my legs. To my total surprise they didn’t feel that much different than my boy briefs, except that they were much thinner and... and cooler! They also seemed to hold my boy parts a lot closer to my body, making them almost disappear unless one looked very closely. That was fine with me. By the time I had the panties on, Gail was presenting me with her favorite dress. In her little girl mind, she wanted more than anything to please her big cousin, so she had selected her favorite in all the world dress. It was cotton, a light peach color with darker orange designs all over it. It had a very full skirt, a tight waist, and a sort of wide bib front, open at the back, with wide straps over the shoulders and crossed in the back. I accepted it reluctantly and started to step into it.

“Not that way, silly!” Gail giggled. “You pull it over your head.” I stopped and watched as she easily pulled off her sundress and slipped mine over her head. She slipped out of it again and stood there in her panties waiting for me to try. “Do... uhh... do you have any more panties like those?” I asked. She was wearing pink panties, no print but made of nylon, with more accentuated white lace at the waist and legs.
“Sure,” she said enthusiastically. “Not this color though.”

Next thing I knew Gail and I were rifling through her suitcase, examining each pair of panties until I chose a pair of almost white ones... just a hint of pink... satin and a very wide lace trim. I slid off the pair Gail had given me and slipped into the ones I had chosen. To this day I don’t know why I did that, but I do remember vividly that they felt absolutely delicious. “I should tell you,” Gail said, “the cotton ones are cooler.”
“I like these,” I said before I realized what I was saying.
“Me too. They’re pretty!”

Following Gail’s example, I pulled the sundress she’d chosen for me over my head and down on my body. In a thousand years I could never describe the sensation! Here I was, a self respecting, confident (well, confident in some ways), red-blooded American boy, wearing really cool satin panties and a dress! And I felt a thrill course through my body the likes of which I had never felt in my life. Not even wearing diapers at six years old could compare with this! But Gail wasn’t done yet.

“I got a couple pair of sandals,” she said enthusiastically. “I think they’ll be cooler for you, ok?”
“I’d rather socks and sneakers,” I said, thinking they would be white athletic type socks and white sneakers. I should have known better. Gail dove again into her suitcase and brought out a pair of peach socks with white lace trim. “Haven’t you got anything without lace trim?” I complained.
“Nope,” she answered. “I love lace and so does my mom. Besides, if you care to look, they match the dress perfectly.” I hadn’t paid much attention to matching clothes before, but I had often heard my mom discussing clothes with other women, what goes with what, which color matches which better. I pulled the socks on and Gail carefully folded them down so the lace showed. There was that feeling again!

She pulled a brand new pair of sneakers out of a box. They were a darker shade of pink, with white designs on them. The laces were hard to describe with any other word but FANCY! They had yellow ducks all over them. “Gail,” I protested, “I can’t take your brand new sneakers! They’re so... so girlish!”
“They match the outfit,” she said simply. “Besides, I want you to have them. I think you’re so pretty!”
“Boys aren’t supposed to be pretty,” I reminded her.
“Chris,” she reminded me, “you aren’t exactly dressed the way boys are supposed to dress. So why not let’s have some fun with this, ok? Please?”
“Ok,” I sighed. “Let’s just get it over with.” I was really beginning to get into the spirit of this venture, but I wasn’t about to let Gail know.
“Cool. Thanks, Chris.” Before I was ready I had the sneakers on and tied, and Gail was out of the tent announcing my unveiling. “Here he... uhh... SHE is,” she exclaimed a little more loudly than I would have liked. “This is my new sister Christine!”

When I stepped outside, two ladies gasped. “Christopher, you’re gorgeous!” Aunt Julia exclaimed.
“You really are, son,” my mom agreed. “Gail, you did an excellent job!”
“That may be true,” I said grumpily, “but it was a waste of time. Nobody’s gonna see all the work she did ‘cause I’m not settin’ one foot off this campsite!”
“You don’t have to, Chris,” my mom said. “I think you’ve shown a great deal of courage doing all this. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you really are very cute. But you still need your hair brushed, so why don’t you come over here and sit with me?”
“Can I do it?” Gail piped up. “Please, Chris?”
“Ok with me if Chris doesn’t mind,” Mom said.
“Why not?” I said as my depression grew. “She’s already seen me naked, and dressed me from the skin out. She might as well take over doing my hair too.” There was a part of me that was absolutely thrilled that people thought I was pretty, and that wasn’t helping my mood even a little bit.

I sat on the bench of a picnic table while Gail sat on the table behind me and began brushing my hair. There was that feeling again! As she brushed, my hair, still slightly damp, fell lightly on my shoulders and back. Now please understand, I have sat shirtless literally hundreds of times while my mom brushed my hair and never gave it a thought. So why was this different? I had no idea! But the sensation of those reddish locks cascading over my bare shoulders, looking down at my very feminine sneakers peeking out from under the bottom of my dress, the very slight tug of my shoulder straps when I moved, the unmistakable stirring in my groin against the confinement of those satin panties... I felt pretty! And it felt good! And the best part: no one seemed to be giving it a second thought. People were walking by, waving and saying ‘hello,’ but there was certainly nothing unusual about a little girl brushing her sister’s hair. Then Gail began exclaiming things like “Oh Chris, your hair is so pretty!” and “Chris, I wish I was as pretty as you!” It was both humiliating and thrilling all at the same time!

When Gail started to tie two ribbons in my hair, one on each side, I was ready to murder her on the spot. But she was so excited, having so much fun, I decided to let her go ahead. She had separated two handfuls of hair on each side of my head into pony tails, then tied them in pink bows! When I looked at myself in the mirror, I had to really concentrate on being embarrassed. The truth is, those pink ribbons had made the transformation complete, and even I knew it! I had always loved those twin tails on Gail, and now I had them! I completely forgot that I was supposed to be reluctant about all the feminization.

The rest of the afternoon went pretty well, with only one minor incident. Gail was determined she and I were going for a walk so she could show off her “pretty sister” and I was equally determined we were not. Finally Mom and Aunt Julia intervened and explained to Gail that I’d already had enough humiliation for one day, and that we could find something to do around the campsite. So we spread out a blanket on the grass and got out Gail’s Barbie dolls and played with them. Mom told me months later that she noticed it was the first time she’d ever seen me play with Barbie dolls and not insist on being “Ken.” In fact, we didn’t even take the Ken doll out of the case! She also noticed that I had only needed to be corrected three times about splaying my legs wide apart, up in the air, all the things all children wearing pants tend to do, but were far from lady like when in a dress. After three reminders, I seemed to catch on and kept the skirt of my dress covering those parts that I wasn’t supposed to be showing.

We were so thoroughly engrossed in our play that we didn’t hear the footsteps approaching (well, they weren’t that loud in the grass anyway). I was startled when I heard a voice behind me say “Hi!” Gail and I both looked up to see a girl and boy standing looking down at us. The girl was a little older, and the boy was somewhere in between her age and ours. Instantly I felt my face begin to flush. I’d been caught playing Barbie’s again! “You girls just came in today, didn’t you?” the older girl questioned.
“Yeah,” I said. Being the older of Gail and me, AND the male dominant figure, I felt it my place to speak for both of us. Then I remembered, she said “YOU GIRLS!” And then I remembered... I wasn’t a male anything! At least not right now. “Are y’all staying long?” the girl asked.
“Ya got any brothers?” the boy asked.
“Sorry, no brothers,” Gail replied before I could foul things up. “Yes, we’re staying for the whole summer.”
“That’s so cool!” the older girl said happily. “Us too! I was starting to get kinda lonely. There’s lots o’ kids here, but most of ‘em are such snobs! But you two are so pretty and seemed to be getting along so well I know you can’t be snobs. Mind if we play?”
“Not me!” the boy stated firmly. “There’s no way I’m playin’ with dolls!”

“Why not?” I heard myself saying. “We know a boy who plays with them all the time, don’t we Gail?” I snuck a wink at her.
“Yeah,” Gail agreed. “He usually wants to be “Ken,” but he plays and he has fun too.”
“Must be some kinda sissy!” the boy said sullenly.
“Tell ya what,” I said. “I got a real nice Matchbox car collection, and we sometimes use that when we’re playing with Barbie’s. It’s real fun! Wanna try?” As I talked, a voice inside me, probably the BOY voice, was screaming at me in my mind, saying “What in the world are you DOING?” But it was too late.

“You got a matchbox collection?” the boy asked, showing some interest now.
“Uh-huh. Wanna see it?”
“I... I guess so,” the boy replied. “But what’s a little girl like you doin’ with a matchbox collection? They’re for boys!”
“Chris has over 100 Matchbox cars,” Mom said from where she was sitting. “I bought most of them, and I have yet to see anything on any of the packages that says ‘boys only.’”

I wasn’t sure if she had helped or not, but they agreed to play with us, the boy agreeing to give it a try provided I let him incorporate the Matchbox cars and let him be “Ken.”
No problem,” Gail said cheerily, “no one else here wants to be Ken anyway.”
“Not tonight though, children,” Mom said. “It’s getting late - almost time for dinner, and we’ve had a hard day. You can play together tomorrow all day if you like.”
“Ok, ma’m,” the girl said politely. “You all coming to the barbeque tonight?”

Well! She explained that the campground has all sorts of activities for the campers, and tonight was barbeque night. I have to tell you that if there is one thing in my life that knows no gender, no sexual preference, no embarrassment, it’s a barbeque! Dress or pants, clothed or naked, it didn’t matter! We loved a barbeque! So Gail and I were instantly assailing our mothers begging if we could go. “Of course we can,” they answered. “That means we don’t have to cook!”
“Great!” the girl said. “We’ll see you there!”

As Gail and I were gathering up our toys, the camp pickup pulled in to our site and the man who’d pulled me out of the cesspool hopped out. “Just came to check on our little swimmer,” he said cheerfully as he extended his hand to my mom. “I’m Jason Winkler. My dad and I own this park.” Then before Mom could shake his hand he dropped it again and whistled. “A girl?” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe it! This afternoon she was showing the kinda spunk that would make the father of any little boy proud, and now I find out it’s a girl! And one as beautiful as a little deer! Honey, you’re gorgeous! What’s your name, sweetie?”

I panicked. I rose to face him, I felt tears trying to come, and I was choking. “M-my... m-m-my n-name is... Uhhh.... Err...”
“I’m sorry,” Jason laughed. “I didn’t mean to make you forget your name, little Miss.”
“I didn’t, sir,” I said as I found my breath for an instant. Every eye in the Universe was watching me, every ear listening. “My name is... is... errr... CHRISTINE.”

The name echoed round and round in my head. I wasn’t sure I’d said it, but someone sure had, loud and clear! I had just called myself by a girl’s name, in public, out loud, to a total stranger! “Christine!” He exclaimed. “A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady. And this equally beautiful creature is your twin sister, right?”
“Cousin,” I corrected. “This is my cousin Gail. But sometimes we like to pretend we’re sisters.”
“Well Gail,” Jason said with a huge warm smile, “you take care of your sister Christine, and don’t ever let her dress again the way she was this afternoon. That is a terrible waste of pure unadulterated natural beauty. There oughta be a law!”

In spite of myself, I giggled. Even to me it sounded like the merry tinkling giggle of a little girl. What on earth was happening to me? Not only was I identifying myself as a girl, but I was giggling like one, and... and IT WAS FUN!!!!

I was really beginning to like this guy when he blew it! As he and my mom and Aunt Julia started chatting, Jason commented “I should have known this afternoon. I mean, it’s just not normal for a boy to cry like that just because he’d fallen into a pond of sewage. He was upset about his hair, about his ruined clothes, and that he didn’t get you the flowers that he’d been reaching for. I should have known then that it HAD to be a girl!”

So there it was again. Girls are allowed to care, but boys aren’t. Girls are allowed to get upset when their hair is full of watery poop, but not boys! Girls could cry when they were upset, but not boys. What kinda justice is that? What kinda world was this anyway? Suddenly I was furious! But at the same time I was so glad I was a girl... or... well at least for now anyway.

“Come on, Chris,” Mom said, breaking me out of me thought process. “It’s time to get changed for the barbeque.”
“Christine!” I corrected without even thinking about it. “And why do we gotta get changed? I just got dressed!”
“It might get cool, honey,” my mom explained. “You’re dressed pretty lightly for the evening air. Your whole back is bare.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said emphatically. There it was again! That male bravado that refused a mother’s advice. But Aunt Julia agreed with me. “It’s really quite warm,” she said. “I think they’ll be ok. We’ll take two of Gail’s sweaters so they can throw them on if they get cold.” So we just washed up, Mom touched up my hair and hers while Aunt Julia did Gail’s and her own, and we headed for the recreation area.

To be continued...