Reluctant Prom Queen, Part One

A Sisterly Conspiracy

"I don't believe it!" Elizabeth shouted angrily. She was looking at the list of candidates for Ridley High's prom queen--and her name was on it. She'd be the first to admit she was among the prettiest and most popular girls in the school, but she was also an ardent feminist who considered the whole prom queen competition a frivolous and sexist routine.

She turned to her friend, Margaret. "You know who's behind this, don't you?" Margaret advised. "My twin brother, Sam. He's never forgiven you for walking out on him at the homecoming dance when you were both chosen as king and queen. He knows he's a shoo-in for prom king...and he wants to force you to be at his side."

Elizabeth nodded, her brown curls bouncing. An idea was forming in her calculating mind. She studied Margaret's features, the red hair and freckles so like her brother's. "Hmmm," she started, "are the nominations closed yet?"

"No, they won't actually hold the voting until the prom itself, you know that," Margaret replied. "What cunning little plan are you cooking up?"

"I need a couple of days to get everything together," Liz answered. "Can you get Sam over to my place on Saturday afternoon?"

"Sure--I'll tell him there's a prom planning meeting. We're all on the committee," Margaret said, wondering just what her friend had in mind.

"Great--two o'clock!"

Precisely at two Saturday afternoon, Margaret and Sam rang Liz's doorbell. Sam's tongue practically hung out of his mouth when the beautiful brunette answered the door in a skin-hugging leather minidress, sheer stockings and six-inch heels, with her face made up in the most sultry of styles. Margaret just grinned at the effect her friend was having on her twin.

Liz got her "guests" seated in the living room, then went to the kitchen for drinks. She returned shortly and made a great fuss making sure that Sam got exactly the drink he had requested. Then she snuggled up next to him on the couch, while Margaret settled bemusedly in an easy chair on the other side of the room.

"So, Sam," Liz began, "I hear you're the one who nominated me for prom queen."

Sam smiled, but shook his head, "Not me, Liz." His words sounded a little slurred and his eyelids were getting heavy.

"You sure about that, brother?" Margaret asked.

"Aaabsooluutellllly." Sam struggled to get the word out and to keep his eyes open. But he failed--he was dead to the world only moments after taking his first few sips of the drugged soda.

"What'd that stuff do to him?" Margaret inquired.

"Oh, it just put him to sleep," Liz answered. "The real changes come now. I've been studying Advanced Placement Psychology this semester, and I've learned a lot about the suggestibility of the human mind. In this state, we can make a lot of alterations in Sam's head...and get him to help with quite a few on his body as well!" she giggled.

She turned to the deeply-breathing young man. "Sam, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you." His voice was clear but quiet now.

"I'm going to teach you a few things about yourself. I want you to remember all of them, but only act on them when I say, prom sissy. Do you understand?"

"I'll only use what you teach me when you say, prom sissy," he repeated.

"Very good," Liz said. "Now, listen carefully. Your name is not Samuel, it's Samantha. You're a boy, but a boy who likes to dress like a girl and take orders from girls. Wearing girl's clothes is a terrific sexual thrill for you; it makes your little cock harder than anything else you can imagine, even having sex or masturbating. Even better is being made to wear the clothes that a pretty girl picks out for you.

"You love to wear makeup; you feel naked without it. Your dream is to spend a day at a beauty salon and coming out as the sexiest, most beautiful girl in town.

"Now, I'm going to let you be awake again in a few minutes...but remember, if I say prom sissy, you'll be Samantha, and if I say prom king, you'll be Sam again. Now when I count to five, you'll wake up, you won't remember being unconscious or anything we've done until you hear those special words.

"One." Sam's shoulders moved a little. "Two." His head raised up off his chest. "Three." He took a deep breath. "Four." He stretched his arms. "Five." His eyes opened and he looked around at the girls.

"Well, we going to have a meeting or what?" he asked.

"Sure," Liz responded. "Margaret and I had an idea--how about, in addition to the usual prom court, we had a prom sissy as well?" She watched the change that came over the red-haired boy, as his hands became limp things on the ends of his wrists, as he crossed his legs at the ankles, as he tried to surreptitiously scratch at his now uncomfortable clothing.

"Liz," he asked, his voice quieter and breathier than his usual strong tenor, "do you have a dress I could borrow?"

"Why sure, Samantha," she replied. "By the way, do you think I'm a pretty girl?"

"I think you're just about the prettiest girl in Ridley High, Liz," the entranced boy answered.

"Am I pretty?" Margaret asked as well.

"Nearly as pretty as Liz," he said.

"Well then, Samantha, you should just love wearing anything we pick out for you, right?" Liz suggested.

"I'd love to wear whatever you choose," Samantha answered.

"My god--she's adorable!" Margaret exclaimed. "I had no idea Sam would make such a gorgeous girl!"

The erstwhile big man on campus was dressed in just the first of the several outfits his sister and Elizabeth had prepared for his "debut" as Samantha. It was a skirt and blouse combination, and like all of the outfits it featured a very short hemline, high heels and a feminine hairstyle, created by use of one of the several wigs Margaret kept for her bad hair days. Samantha was posing and primping in front of the full-length mirror in Liz's room.

"You know, I almost think he's falling in love with himself," Margaret whispered to her co-conspirator.

"Good," Liz replied. "That's exactly the reaction I was hoping for."

Within another few hours, they had run him through the rest of the clothes they had lain out: a cropped white top, baring his mid-driff above a very short black skirt; an orange sheath with matching handbag and big, girlish sunglasses; and a flattering green minidress, worn with strappy five-inch heels and a becoming page-boy bob.

"Samantha," Liz beckoned the "girl" to her side. "It's time to go home. I'll call you later."

As the transformed boy gathered the girlish things he now considered his, Liz again conferred with his sister. "You're sure your folks are OK with this?"

"Positive," was her answer. "Dad's away for a few days and Mom's really eager to see what we've done with Sam. She says if it really works she has some plans for my little brother Kenny."

It was seven p.m. The phone rang at Margaret and Sam's house. Their mother picked it up, listened a moment and said, "Samantha--it's for you."

"Hello?" the boy/girl asked, still dressed in the most feminine manner.

At the other end of the line, Liz spoke but two words, "Prom king."

More to come