Ms. Gilbert's Academy, Part 2

November 8:

The new report and letter had arrived. Marie opened it, eager to read more of her son's progress to becoming her daughter.

Dear Mrs. Anderson:

Nicole is moving along nicely in her transformation. She now completely accepts herself as feminine, although she retains--as you requested--full knowledge of her past as a male and full recognition of her humiliated state.

She has reached the stage we at the Academy call "the satisfied sissy." Many of our students' mothers prefer to have their boy-girls remain at this level of transformation permanently. Please inform me as soon as possible whether you want Nicole to remain in this delightfully simpering state or progress to the next level.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth Gilbert
Headmistress

The progress report merely stated--in formal numbers and percentages--what Ms. Gilbert's letter had already told her. Marie quickly opened the other envelope, the one she knew would include a photo of her transformed child and Nicole's own evaluation of her advancing femininity.

Mommy Dearest:

I am
so delighted now that you chose Ms. Gilbert's Academy for me! I revel in the frilly, feminine, lacy clothes they give me to wear. I love to make up my face every morning!

Still, I can't help but shudder every time someone from outside the school sees me. I just know they know that I am not the girl I pretend to be. After all, most girls my age would not wear this strange combination of lacy party dress and sexy hose and heels.

Dr. Madchenmacher continues to counsel me, using those strange sleep-inducing words and tones of hers. I remember them all, in some way, even though I can never recall precisely what she says. I went to her just last week, concerned about the way my legs looked and the way I wobbled in the six-inch heels they now make me wear. The doctor showed me her pendant and said, "Lovely to look at," and like all the times before, I stopped hearing her words but felt only the force of her personality, willing me to be and feel what she wanted.

She woke me sometime later, and I looked at my long legs, covered in their sheer nylons, perched on the stiletto heels, and I sighed. This is how I want my legs to look, I thought. I curtseyed to the doctor and left, mincing happily away, no longer the least bit unsteady on the pencil-thin heels.

When will you come for a visit, Mommy?

Your loving sissy,

Marie closed the letter and put away the picture. Time to call Ms. Gilbert to give her the final instructions for Nicole.


Conclusion to come