My name is George. I'm 15 years old. My parents are divorced. I live with my mother and younger sister. I was painfully shy growing up and I didn't really have any pals to hang out with so, out of desperation, I started tagging along with my sister Fiona who was two years younger than me but much more outgoing. Fiona didn't mind because that meant she could stay out later being escorted by her big brother.
Fiona liked to meet up with her girlfriends at one of their homes or at the shopping mall. No one else seemed to mind either because I never interfered with their activities. I usually just sat there and listened to them gossip or complain about boyfriends. I liked to imagine I was a sheikh and they were all my harem girls.
Occasionally one of the girls would ask my opinion about something they were talking about, something they were wearing or a boy one of the girls liked. I was always complimentary or sympathetic and I never betrayed a confidence. Then they'd tease me about being the best girlfriend a girl could have. I'd be embarrassed but I craved the attention and so I took the teasing in good humor.
"He'd rather be your boyfriend, Carla" said Fiona. Carla was my sister's "best friend forever" and we were visiting her home. I felt my ears burning. I did have a crush on Carla but I never said a word to anyone. Carla just nodded and smiled like it was old news to her.
"Is that true, George? Would you like to be my boyfriend?" I smiled and nodded my head. Was it possible?
"I'm afraid I already have a boyfriend, but you can still be my girlfriend. Would you like that?"
"I'm a guy," I replied. I should have known she was teasing me.
"You make a better girl than some girls I know," Carla replied.
"Prettier too," Fiona added and both girls giggled. I suppose that gave Carla ideas because she left the room and came back with a makeup kit. I was apprehensive when I saw a mischievous look in her eyes.
"You'd be even prettier with a little makeup."
"I'm not going to start wearing makeup." I started to back away.
"Oh please, George," Carla begged. "We'll just try a little lipstick. Okay? It's nothing permanent."
"I don't think so."
"Pretty please? I'll give you a big kiss if you let me put some lipstick on you."
"A kiss?" At that point in my life I would have sold my soul for a kiss from a pretty girl. It was just us three together this time. What could it hurt I reasoned. Carla took my silence as assent. She took a little brush and took a few swipes at some lipstick. She sat down beside me and told me to part my lips and hold still. I obeyed and felt a light touch on my lips from the brush. Carla finished with the brush and had me blot my lips on some tissue. She handed me a mirror.
"Gross," I exclaimed. It wasn't really but I was unsettled by how ... feminine I looked. I picked up a tissue to wipe it off but Carla grabbed my wrist.
"Don't you want your kiss, Georgette?" Georgette?
"Yeah sure ... but..."
"Then leave the lipstick on, Georgette or I can't kiss you. I can't kiss George. That would be cheating on my boyfriend. But I can kiss Georgette all I want. Do you understand, Georgette?" I didn't really but I nodded my head anyway.
"Good girl," said Carla and kissed me right on the lips. It wasn't one of those quick smooches either. It was one of those mouth wide open screen kisses where the orchestral strings come up into a big crescendo. I was in heaven.
"Whoa, Carla!" said Fiona. "I didn't know you were into other girls."
"Well, now you know," Carla replied. I decided right there I could be Georgette and wear lipstick for Carla anytime as long as I could kiss her like this and no one else knew.
"What are you girls doing to that poor boy," said a voice nearby. Darn! It was Carla's mother standing in the doorway.
"There's no boy here right now, Mom. This is Georgette and we're just sharing a lesbian kiss."
"I don't see any Georgette."
"Show her, Georgette." I would rather have sunk through the floor and died but I didn't want to displease Carla so I lifted my head. Carla's mother, Mrs. Johnson, shook her head and smiled.
"That lipstick shade isn't your color, honey," said the woman.
"That's the only one I could find quickly," said Carla. "Could you help me maybe improve her looks, Mom? Please?"
"Stand up for me, will you sweetie?" I stood up wondering where this was going. I didn't want to look more girly than I already was. Mrs. Johnson gave me a once over inspection.
"Clear complexion, small boned, delicate hands. How old are you, baby?"
"That old? I took you for a lot younger."
"Everyone thinks that." I've always been small for my age and still have that androgynous look of a younger boy. I'm still a long way from shaving and my voice hasn't deepened even though I've reached puberty.
"She still gets invited to children's birthday parties," Fiona interjected.
"I do not!" The last time that happened was almost a year ago. I'm hopeful it won't happen again.
"You have eyelashes most girls would kill for. Yeah, my guess is that you could be turned into a real pretty brunette."
"Wouldn't she have to grow out her hair, Mom? Couldn't she wear a wig?"
"Well, I could do a lot more if she had longer hair, but I think she has enough to work with right now. A decent wig is too expensive. Of course, I won't do anything that'll get me in trouble and absolutely nothing against her will. I'm not going to hogtie her." Darn! I wished they stopped using the feminine pronoun when referring to me. Mrs. Johnson was a partner in a hair salon so I guess she knew how to make women beautiful but I wasn't a woman.
"I don't think I want to go any further with this," I said. I didn't want to be girlified.
"Oh, please don't say that, Georgette. We'll have so much fun. And no one will know outside of this room. I promise." Carla pressed her boob against my upper arm. She batted her eyelashes and gave me a pleading look with her most winning smile. I knew I was dead meat. Fiona giggled and Mrs. Johnson smirked.
I fell back into my usual silence as Carla, Fiona and Mrs. Johnson discussed how to "improve my looks". Translate that into making me look more feminine. Doubts began to crowd my mind once again. I was willing to put up with the lipstick because I liked kissing Carla but I wanted to be her boyfriend, not her girlfriend. I decided to excuse myself and leave but not before wiping off that ridiculous lipstick.
Carla must have had mind reading powers because she grabbed my hand before I moved a muscle, guided it onto her lap and held it there. I could feel her thighs! I blushed once again. Would she notice the stiffy I just sprouted? I think she did because she glanced down at my crotch and smiled. I was in this 13 year-old girl's power once again and she knew it.
Nothing was decided except that I was to let my hair grow out. Summer vacation was coming up and I usually had it cut real short so I wouldn't have to worry about it until school started up in the fall. I promised to meet everyone at the hair salon the next day after getting assurances they had plenty of male clients and my presence there wouldn't be seen as unusual. Mrs. Johnson said she'd have some ideas for my new look.
Mrs. Johnson took a picture of me and took my measurements; height and weight as well as chest, waist, hips and a whole bunch of other measurements. She even checked my shoe size.
"Skinny as a rail and as flat as a board," she said, "but we'll come up with something."
I was finally allowed to go the bathroom and remove the lipstick while Carla and Fiona had a brief private conference in her bedroom. Fiona smirked all the way on the walk home but she didn't say much. By the time we returned home I was once again out from under Carla's spell. I swore this was the end of this particular adventure even if it meant I wouldn't be able to kiss or even visit her again.
At dinner Fiona started telling Mom how Carla's mom had offered me tips on dressing and grooming as well as working with me to improve my self confidence. She made it sound like it was a once in a lifetime opportunity; the greatest thing since popped corn. She was lobbying Mom for her support.
"Why that's wonderful, George," said Mom. "I hope you accepted Mrs. Johnson's kind offer."
Of course Fiona left out some important facts like Carla's desire to make me look like a girl. I didn't want to try and explain that. It would be too embarrassing. So I opted for evasiveness.
"Well, uh ... I told her I'd think about it."
"You did not," said Fiona. "You said you'd meet with her at the hair salon tomorrow. I heard you."
"Yeah, but I've decided not to, okay?"
"Is there any particular reason, George?"
"Um ... I think Carla wants me to be ... girly." I said it. I couldn't believe how humiliated I felt. I felt my whole face flushing in embarrassment.
"Sophisticated, Mom," said Fiona. She sounded indignant. "My best friend's mother wants to teach him a few social graces. That's all. George thinks the only way to get a girlfriend is to act like a caveman like most of the boys at school. I'm afraid that's something you can't pull off, big brother.
"Besides, Mrs. Johnson said she'd be working on some ideas for him and now to find out she's wasting her time. I'll just die if I lose my friendship with Carla over this, Mother."
"Call her up and tell her I changed my mind. Mrs. Johnson probably hasn't even started."
"You call her up, you coward. I'm not your private secretary."
.... There is more of this story ...