Georgina

GEORGINA A Boy Transformed into a Pretty Girl

She held her stepson's hand in a firm grip and led him upstairs to the new bedroom. "Close your eyes," she said, letting go his hand. "I want this to be a lovely surprise for you." They went in. The room smelled freshly painted and clean, a sweet lavender fragrance hung in the air. "All right, George, you can open them now."

George looked around the room. There were pink curtains with matching bedding and lampshade. Woven into the fabric of these items were pictures of Cinderella and Prince Charming. There was a variety of dolls on the window sill and fluffy toys on the bed. George was dumbstruck. This was not what he'd been expecting at all. "Where are my things?" he said.

"I've got rid of them," she said. "Everything you need now is here." Before he could recover his wits his stepmother added: "Close your eyes again, George. I have an even bigger surprise for you."

He did so, but feared the worst because of what he'd already seen. He felt his stepmother's hands on his shoulders, turning him a quarter-turn to the left. "No peeping," she whispered. Her warm, fragrant breath feathered his ear. He could smell her sweet perfume. It made him light-headed. She was beautiful as well as strict. Her hands slipped away from his shoulders. There was the sound of a key turning in a lock and a door creaking open. He wasn't sure he wanted another surprise like the last one and his heart beat loudly. He had become confused and a little anxious.

"Open your eyes."

George did so and found himself looking into a fully stocked wardrobe. He couldn't believe it. It was more than a surprise - this was a complete and utter shock!

"It's a girl's wardrobe," he exclaimed, his jaw dropping. "I don't understand. These are clothes for a girl." He was filled with dread.

"Exactly!" said the stepmother. "And from now on you will be dressed as a girl, you will act like a girl and your name will be Georgina."

"Georgina..?" George was exasperated. He felt dizzy and suddenly quite inexplicably, short of breath.

"Yes, my dear? Georgina... and I'm going to make you look and feel like a girl too? the prettiest, the beautifullist, most gorgeously sweet girl the world has ever seen."

"But, Stepmother?" George suddenly his stomach knot.

"No buts. I have made up my mind and whenever I make up my mind... well, I needn't tell you, need I?"

George knew she was immovable once her mind was set. She could never be persuaded to change it. He would have had an easier time moving mountains. But why should she want to change him into a girl now that his father had died? He dared to ask the question and was answered curtly:

"Because it is what I want."

"What about me? What about what I want?"

"You wouldn't understand, but I've always yearned for a little girl, a daughter, someone I could enjoy dressing up. I've never been able to have any children of my own and it's not the same with a boy. Of course I could never tell your father this. It would have upset him too much."

"You can't mean what you say, Stepmother?"

"Why don't you call me Mummy now? 'Stepmother' sounds so matriarch and austere."

"Mummy?"

"Yes, I'd really like that. After all I am your proper mother for all intents and purposes, and especially as I am now your sole guardian. Oh we're going to have so much fun." She clasped her hands in glee.

George couldn't believe his ears. So now his father had died, she wanted to make him into a sissy. She stood in front of George, hung her arms loosely around his neck and looked deep and lovingly into his eyes. "You are extremely pretty for a boy, George... too pretty in fact. You are far better suited to being a Georgina? long dark eyelashes, big brown eyes, soft sensitive lips - so, so feminine." She smoothed his hair and kissed his cheek. "And you must not worry about a thing; I will teach you what to say and do. How to behave, the correct manners to display in company, the appropriate attire for different occasions, etc. etc. etc. And I will imbue you with real femininity and with feminine ways. You will feel and act like a sweet girl by the time I've finished with you."

"But why, Stepmother? I couldn't possibly be a girl and I don't want to be one either. I want to stay as I am. And what about school? All the other boys will laugh at me." George's heart raced and thundered in his ears. He began to get himself into a stew. Tears welled in his eyes.

"I've already thought of that, and that's why I've arranged for you to attend a special all-girls school this autumn. So there's no need to worry about silly boys' opinions."

"What?"

This was the final straw. The news that he was to be sent to an all-girls school cut through him like a rusty blade. He felt hurt and helpless.

"I've even got your uniform for you - your gym tunic and a red sash and?"

"No, no, Stepmother. How could you be so cruel? I want to stay at my own school."

"Well, you can't, Georgina. I have made all the necessary arrangements. You leave your school this summer anyway to start senior school in September. So it will all work out very nicely. Everything is prepared."

"But honestly, Stepmother, I couldn't possibly?"

"Now that's quite enough, you silly goose. What would your father have thought if he were to hear you now, complaining and playing up like this? You're acting like a spoilt brat."

"I just don't know what to think. I'm all hot and confused."

"You'll think differently when you see yourself in the mirror, wearing a lovely pink, yellow or a sequined dress and with your hair all done nicely and your face made-up. You will soon get used to it. You will learn to love the swish of chiffon over your legs as you twirl round, the wonderful feel of satin and lace against your skin, the exquisite sensation of being tightly laced into a bodice. Now slip your clothes off for me and let us try you in a... let me see?" George's stepmother leafed through the row of pretty dresses, separating and sliding the items along the rail until she found the one she wanted. "Yes, here we are? I think pink. A pink frock to start with."

The tears literally sprang from his eyes. His stepmother ignored him. She took the dress off the rail, held it up and admired it and then laid it lovingly on the bed. Then she guided him over to the wicker chair by the dressing table. His legs seemed to have turned to rubber.

"Undress here and fold your clothes neatly on the chair. You won't need them anymore. I'll wash them and take them to the charity shop. Take your vest and pants off too. I have a drawer full of the prettiest, softest knickers you could ever imagine. I will choose a pair for you."

George was horrified. "No, you can't make me wear knickers."

"Now, Georgina? that's quite enough."

"Please, Stepmother?"

"Shhh! What a fuss! Do you want me to smack you?"

George shook his head. He felt desperate and defeated. Where was his fight?

"Well then. And there's no need to cry. Now be quick. I will wait with you while you take your old clothes off. This is your last time as a boy. Hurry up, please. I can't wait to see how you look in a frock."

"You're going to watch me undress as well, Stepmother?"

"Yes, I am. Try and remember to call me Mummy."

"But I'm eleven now, er? Mummy." Saying 'Mummy' after all these years of saying 'Stepmother' seemed strange to him. "I don't need you to watch me."

"We are to have no secrets from each other. I will supervise your ablutions and dressing every day. I will make sure you always look your best before you leave the house. I will show you how to use the bathroom like a lady and lots of other things too."

Georgina's 'mummy' produced a scented handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan and held it to her (George's) nose. "Now give a nice big blow for me and let's have no more silly tears. Come on, I'll help you undress."

Just then George threw himself onto the bed in a last ditch fit of temper. He pounded the pillow with his fists and kicked. "I won't, I won't... I WON'T!"

His stepmother watched him silently for a few moments. She knew it was better to let him vent his anger naturally and by ignoring him, she would be punishing him anyway. She would be patient and let him calm down of his own accord, give him time to think about how foolish he had looked to show himself up in front of her. She would not be swayed by outbursts of emotion. Soon the tantrum ended.

"What a silly goose you are Georgina. All you've done is wasted your energy and for no good reason. Do you feel better for it?"

"No!"

"No, of course you don't and I still want you to dress for me, so you see, nothing's changed. You might as well have just got on with it and saved yourself the aggravation."

"No, I won't... You can't make me. I won't be a girl... not for anyone." But George's voice lacked conviction now. It was token and piecemeal resistance. He had surrendered in all but gesture. His crying may have stopped and his spirit broken, but his body remained physically stubborn.

"But you are a girl already. You're just in the wrong clothes. Oh really, Georgina, are you going to lie there all day with your head buried in the pillow sulking?"

"Yes!"

"I'm very disappointed in you, I really am."

The stepmother calmly went to the drawer and brought out a brand new red sash. She grabbed her stepson's right arm and loosely tied his wrist to the bedpost before he realised what was happening. He thought she was caressing not tying him. "Hey," he said, but lying face down he was at a disadvantage and it was easy for her to hold him still and tie the loop. Then she fetched a blue sash and tied his left ankle in the same manner to the bottom of the bed. Thus tethered he was diagonally opposed and ineffectual. It was then a simple matter to immobilise his free right leg.

"Now, Georgina... You have a hand spare. I want you to raise your left trouser leg for me please. Hold it out of the way so I may smack you."

"What?"

"I warned you. You know perfectly well I do not make idle threats. Now that you have disgraced yourself with your childish show of temper and still refuse the change your clothes, I am going to smack your legs as promised to prove to you I mean what I say."

"No, stepmother... I will not be smacked!"

"Oh dear, you're a stubborn little madam, aren't you? just like your father. I'm only pleased that he isn't here to see you behave like this. All right, I will smack lower down then... it's all the same to me."

George's stepmother tugged his left sock down and began smacking the bare calf. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK! Then it was the right one and after that she raised both trouser legs and slapped the backs of his thighs until they were quite pink and tingly and warm.

"This is extra for not being helpful."

George wriggled and writhed but could not escape because of the clever way she had tied him. He was only secured in two places and not cruelly, but he could turn neither left nor right. He thrashed around and yelled but she ignored him and only stopped smacking when George gave way to genuine tears of contrition and appeared truly sorry. She untied him and made him stand in front of her, watching the hot tears roll lazily down his cheeks, holding his hands while she sat on the bed and contemplated him. Although feeling frustrated and defeated, George thought again how beautiful his stepmother was. Why hadn't he thought so before? Was he seeing her in a different light now? He wiped his eyes with his fists so he could see clearly. She seemed absolutely radiant, triumphant even. There was a light in her dark eyes. He felt weak, contrite and somehow complicit facing her now. He was part of what was happening, what she was doing. She drew him to her, hugging him so he could feel the hard points of her warm bosom pressing into him. Her perfume once again made him feel light headed. The backs of his legs were still warm and tingled pleasurably.

Then she held him at arm's length and said: "I think we understand each other now, Georgina," and began unbuttoning his shirt.

(?to be continued?)