Skirts.
Lester was shaking as he pulled that first skirt up and clipped it around his waist. There were tears in his eyes as he looked at himself in my full-length mirror.
Yes, you little snot, you don't like this, do you?
I kept my delight hidden behind a stern expression as I fiddled with his clothing and hair getting it all right. Then he surprised me with an odd question.
"Kara, do I look all right, er, you know, sort of pretty?"
Um, what? "Yeah, of course, Lester, you look pretty," I responded vaguely more than a little puzzled.
What did he mean by that question? I didn't understand. I decided to twist the knife.
"Now, we need to give you a brand new name, a girl's name."
"Oh, er . . . a girl's name? Um . . . I guess . . . would Leslie be all right?"
"Okay," I murmured slowly, caught out again and now quite mystified. Then I added, "You can change back now, Lester . . . er, Leslie and get going."
He/she did a few more turns in front of the mirror before almost reluctantly it seemed to begin to restore his male persona.
After Lester had left, I tried to work out what had happened. Don't tell me that he was beginning to like the girly stuff. No, bullshit. Then I realised.
That sneaky little bastard. He was trying to dupe me by pretending that he didn't mind me making him into a sissy. He thought that then I would back off, maybe lose interest.
Ha! No way José. I'm onto you. A dress next time.
YOU ARE READING
A Lesson for Lester . . . and Me
Short StoryThis is a different take on a boy-to-girl transition story. It is intended to be essentially humorous in a somewhat sardonic fashion, but there are lessons, and the psychology of the two central characters is also interesting.
