Glamour Session
Sam nearly dropped the phone as he looked down at himself, still clad in the green dress and heels. Sudden realization of all that his sister and her friend had done to him rushed in upon him. "You'll never get away with this, Liz," he bellowed into the phone. "My mother will never stand for it!"
"You might be surprised." Sam whirled at the matter of fact tone of his mother's voice. Mrs. Wilson stood in the doorway, her hands crossed over her bosom, an odd smile on her face. "I've grown tired of putting up with the way you treat your sister and me. This looks like the perfect chance to teach you a lesson, you prom sissy." She grinned.
Sam's demeanor changed again as the Samantha personality took over his body. The breathy voice of the would-be teen queen spoke into the phone, "I have to go now, Liz." he hung up and demurely followed his mother into the living room, where Margaret was waiting.
"What's next, Margaret?" Mrs. Wilson asked.
"Well, we have to get Samantha's picture on the nomination board at school--and we want her to look her best for that," Margaret replied, grinning. "I thought a visit to the glamour photographer tomorrow, for a complete makeover and shooting session, was in order."
"A wonderful idea," the older woman agreed. "Should we prepare your little brother for the trip, too?"
"Oh--definitely...and Samantha can help."
Little brother? Deep within the mind shared with Samantha, Sam's psyche struggled to be felt. They're going to pull this on poor Kenny? He's only 12!
Later that evening, Margaret had arranged everything in the living room. A little of the trance-inducing powder had been placed in Kenny's soda and now the pre-teen boy was sitting, head lolled on his chest, in the most comfortable chair in the room.
Once he was out, Mrs. Wilson escorted Samantha into the room as well, carrying an assortment of Margaret's fanciest clothes. She and her erstwhile son had spent the afternoon in the attic, digging out her daughter's old party dresses and Sunday church clothes.
"I think we'll dress Kenny first...and then make the psychological changes," Margaret advised. "My text books say that often has a stronger effect." The first outfit they tried on the entranced Kenny was a white dress with a matching bolero jacket and hat. They combed and teased his blonde hair to a feminine look, and lightly enhanced his features with blush, mascara and a pink lipstick. Pleased with the look, Margaret decided it was time to add her little brother to the family's distaff side.
"Kenny, can you hear me?"
"Yeesssss," the child slurred in reply.
"Very good. Kenny, I'm going to tell you some things I want you to remember, OK? You must never forget what I'm about to tell you."
"I won't forget, Margaret," he answered.
His sister moved closer to the cross-dressed boy and spoke softly but insistently. "You are dressed as a girl. You love being dressed this way. Has your little thing ever gotten hard when you saw a girl or played with yourself?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Well, being dressed like this makes it harder than it's ever been before. You love that feeling. You crave that feeling. When you're dressed this way, your name is Connie. What's your name?"
"Connie," he replied, smiling slightly.
"Is your little thing hard right now?"
"Harder than it's ever been before," the mesmerized child answered.
"Good," Margaret affirmed. "Now, I'm going to let you wake up in a few moments. But whenever you hear me or Mommy say, 'taffeta rustles,' you will go right back to sleep, waiting for us to tell you what to do. And when we say, Connie cutie,' you will wake back up. Do you understand that?"
"Yes," the boy now named Connie responded. "Taffeta rustles means I go to sleep; Connie cutie means I wake up."
"Very good." Margaret turned to her mother. "He's all set. Even if he ever starts to give us trouble about 'Connie,' we have the advantage of being able to strengthen the suggestion at any time!" Mrs. Wilson grinned in anticipation of never having to deal with another teenaged boy. Her daughter turned back to her erstwhile little brother. "And now it's time to wake up, Connie cutie!"
The pre-teen transvestite fluttered his mascaraed eyelids and a smile spread again on his shiny pink lips. "Oh, Margaret, Mommy--why haven't I ever been Connie before now?" he cried.
"We didn't know you wanted to be, " his mother fibbed. "Just like we didn't know Sam really wanted to be Samantha."
And Samantha, watching all this in frustation, thought, But I don't want to be a girl...and neither does Kenny, really. Where is all this going?
"We're going to have the most beautiful portraits done!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, as she escorted her two new daughters, together with Margaret into Glamour Girls, the photography studio. Samantha and Connie were unable to resist the charms of their sister Margaret's hypnotic skill and willingly accompanied the two real women.
Once there, the studio staff gushed over the beauty of their subjects. The makeup artist was particularly enthralled with the coppery good looks of Samantha's red hair and the woman in charge of wardrobe enthused over Samantha's tall, willowy body. "I just know we can make her absolutely gorgeous!" they cried, almost in unison.
In time they had Samantha's hair in a straight pageboy with just a hint of curl at the ends, her face graced with only the slightest of makeups. Her body was draped in an elegant, dark column gown, its deep colors making the pale glow of her face stand out like a beacon.
Contrastingly, little Connie was in a bright red party outfit, all stripes and bold colors, her shimmering blond curls set off beneath a cute little hat. Completing the picture of childish glamour were a pair of lace-cuffed white anklets worn with red patent-leather Maryjanes.
The afternoon was spent with the two boy-girls posing for hours. Margaret and their mother then spent some time poring over the proof sheets--with Margaret being especially careful to choose just the right shot to go up on the prom court nominations board on Monday morning.
The crowd had gathered around the bulletin board outside the prom planning office. "Who is she?" went the murmur among the girls. "Why can't I find a babe like that?" went the complaint among the boys.
Sam Wilson fought his way through the crowd to stare in disbelief at the picture posted under the heading "Mystery Candidate". There, in all her glory, was Samantha. There was Sam, in the feminine role Margaret and Liz--and now his mother--had forced upon him.
Oh god...what's Dad going to say when he gets back from his business trip? Sam wondered.
More to come
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