High School was over, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Not that it really mattered much, my mom was still really rich, even after the divorce, and she didn’t mind me living at home for a couple more years while I decide what to do next.
Most of my old friends had moved out of town, to take jobs or go to college, so I was pretty lonely at first. Fortunately, my sister Tara and her girlfriends were around the house a lot, and I got to be closer to them. Sometimes I wondered why they took me into their little clique so quickly, but they were all so cute and fun that I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
When October rolled around, the girls told me about a big Halloween party they were planning on going to, and asked if I had a costume ready. Of course I didn’t, because I never really got into the whole Halloween thing, but they seemed pretty eager to take me along, so I just said I hadn’t picked one out yet.
That’s when Serena suggested that since I’ve been pretty much “one of the girls” for the last few months, that my costume should be a girl. “After all,” she reasoned, “you’re certainly small and thin enough to pull off a girl’s figure, with a little strategic padding.”
Before I could even react, Karen got very excited and pointed out that they could take me to her mom’s beauty salon after hours and make me over. Then Tara and Jessica started discussing what I should wear. I really didn’t like where this was going at first, but in the end I started getting caught up in their enthusiasm, and agreed to go for it.
The topic did not come up again for the rest of the month, until the night before Halloween, when the four of them rushed into my room to tell me that they had use of the salon for the evening. The make-over was a blur of activity. They plucked eyebrows, permed and colored hair, polished naild, waxed almost my whole body, and subjected me to processes I had never even heard of. They also glued a pair of fake breasts to my chest, along with some padding for my hips. Maybe it was the music that was playing in the background, maybe it was the smell of all the chemicals, but I found myself feeling kind of drowsy and submissive through the whole process.
During the drive home, even with me still in my own clothes, we still looked like a car with five girls in it. As we went into the house, Tara told me to go change into the rest of my costume, which was waiting for me in my room.
The costume consisted of a “control brief” to flatten my crotch, a tiny little red dress, some jewelry, a pair of heels, and a small red purse. Still feeling a little groggy, I put all the stuff on and went to show the girls.
“Wow, Dave. You’re a hottie!” laughed Karen. The others made similar comments of appreciation, along with a few wolf whistles. We all had a good laugh about what a convincing girl my costume had made. I had to admit that this was going to be kind of fun.
“How about a picture, Dave?” Asked Jessica, drawing a camera into view.
Jokingly, I put one hand on my hip and smiled for the camera. Just as the flash went off, I saw a small, flickering light in the back of the room. I couldn’t stop staring at it. I just stood there, staring at the slowly strobing light. I can’t remember what happened next…
That’s right Dave. Keep staring at the shimmering light. The light is making you feel very calm and relaxed. Very calm and relaxed. In this calm state, you want to believe everything I tell you.
You are no longer a boy named Dave. You are a girl named Melissa. Listen carefully, Melissa. You love being a girl. You especially like making yourself look pretty and posing for photos. You can’t help but admire your own beauty, and revel in it. Nothing could feel more natural to you than looking and behaving feminine and girlish. You will cheerfully do anything that the four of us suggest to you.
You will continue to be Melissa until you are addressed as “Dave”, at which time you will go back to your old male self. Then you will go back to being Melissa whenever you hear the word “apricot.”
I repeat, hearing the word “apricot” spoken will always turn you back into Melissa.
Finally, you have been taking your mother a little too much for granted, staying at home when you should be making your way in the world. So, from now on, whether you are Melissa or Dave, you will obey everything your mother says. You will do whatever she tells you, whatever she asks you, and even anything she casually suggests. You will feel compelled to do so, and will not be able to resist. In fact, you will be bright and enthusiastic about following through on everything she says you should do.
You will also return to this trance whenever you are told, “listen carefully, Melissa.”
“Wake up, Dave,” Tara said, nudging me on the shoulder, “you’ve been sleeping all morning.”
Blinking my eyes I looked at the clock by my bed and saw that it was almost 3:00 in the afternoon. It must be the longest I had ever slept in. As I slid out of bed, I discovered that I was wearing a sheer, white nightgown.
“That’s strange,” I thought to myself, not remembering at all how I ended up in the frilly gown, “I must have put this on while joking around with the girls last night.” Since I was going to be in drag all evening at the party, I didn’t even bother to change out of it, and just went downstairs for a late breakfast.
Mom was sitting in the kitchen when I came in. “What on Earth are you doing in that nightgown, Dave?”
“Oh, hi mom. Tara and her friends thought it would be fun to dress me up as a girl for the Halloween party tonight.”
“Your hair looks pretty,” she teased, “maybe you should keep it that color!”
“That’s a good idea, mom,” I agreed, “I think I will!”
Since she was just kidding around, my quick agreement took her a little by surprise, but she decided not to make an issue out of it.
The party was a lot of fun that night. For most of the party, the girls and I had a lot of people fooled into thinking I was a girl without a costume. At the end of it all, I almost regretting having to change out of my costume. I had a little trouble keeping my hair from looking to feminine. Even tied in a low pony-tail, like I used to wear it, it was still very wavy and looked a little too pretty, especially with my thinned eyebrows. Accepting that it would gradually settle back to normal, I left it and went to sleep.
Life went pretty much back to normal after that, until one day I decided to go down to the grocery store to pick up some walnuts for a light snack. The shopkeeper tried to draw my attention to the produce section.
“Would you like to buy some fresh fruit today? We have a sale today on…”
I don’t really remember what he said was on sale. I just vaguely remember leaving the store and going to the mall. I can recall trying on a lot of clothes, and some kind of sharp, brief pain on my ear lobes. I think I remember sitting in a chair while somebody was handling my hair. Hours went by without my awareness…
“Good heavens, Dave! What are you doing!?” shouted my mom, and I discovered myself in a brand new dress, posing and pacing my room like a runway model. Several bags of what I knew to be women’s clothes, which I could not quite remember buying, were sitting on my bed. I had no idea what was going on.
“I… uh… uh…”
“It looks like there’s more to your little dress-up games than Halloween parties. I… I guess it’s really none of my business if you like dressing up as a girl… if that’s what makes you happy, Dave.”
“But no… I…”
“Tell me this, do you have a name you like to call yourself when you dress like this? You know, a girl’s name?”
Not knowing where the idea came from or why I was telling her about it, I responded, “Melissa.”
“You haven’t been… borrowing… things from me and your sister, have you, Melissa?”
“No mom, I would never…”
“Good,” she interrupted, “just to be sure that you don’t, I think I should give you a new clothing allowance of… oh, a hundred dollars a week, which you can use to keep buying your own girl clothes, okay?”
I wanted to object, but instead I happily burst out, “thanks mom! You’re the best. I can hardly wait until the next time I can go dress shopping!”
What in the hell was I saying?
“One more question, Dave… er… Melissa: Are you planning on dressing like this in public, or is this new hobby of yours something you plan on keeping a secret? It doesn’t matter to me much either way, I just feel I should know.”
“Uh… I don’t think I want to go out looking like this.”
For weeks after that embarrassing incident, my life once again mostly returned to normal, except that every Saturday mom would give me a hundred dollars and I would rush out to the mall to buy girlie things. She eventually started getting curious about it, and started asking to see what I bought, so the Saturday ritual was expanded to include my modeling my new dresses for mom.
I don’t see how Tara and her friends could have gone without discovering about what I was doing each Saturday, but they seemed to be unaware of it, or at any rate, were pretending not to know. Either way, I didn’t really want to discuss it with them, so I was thankful for this small mercy.
One day I was playing cards with my sister and her friends, when Karen offered me a bite of… something. I think it was some kind of fruit. Anyway, that was the last thing I could remember of the day.
A week later, I received an e-mail from somebody named [email protected]_studio.com:
“Babe, you are the best model we’ve had in years. The camera absolutely loves you! We can hardly wait until we can get you in for another shooting session. Attached to this message is one of the better shots from last week. I knew you would want to see how it came out for yourself.”
I wanted to believe that the message was sent to me by mistake, except there was no question that was me in the picture. I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t figure out how this could be. I didn’t even own a dress like that, and I certainly couldn’t remember doing any modeling. Was I going crazy?
I thought of replying to this person, to try to get some answers. Then I thought maybe I should just delete the message and the picture from my computer and pretend it never happened.
Just as I was about to drag the picture to the trash, I took one more long look at it. “Wow,” I thought, “I really do look stunning in that picture. Seems a shame to just throw it away.” For reasons I couldn’t completely understand, I saved the picture in my personal folder before shutting down my PC.
In early February, mom suggested that I start seeing a psychologist to sort out these “new feelings” I was going through. As always, I did exactly what she said, and made an appointment.
That same day, I had another evening I couldn’t remember, and another picture came a week later, this time from [email protected]:
“Hey there, Melissa! We knew how much you liked red dresses, so we made sure we had one ready for your latest photo shoot. It’s easy to see why they are your favorite. You look great. See for yourself!”
“Serena? Ah-ha!” it finally sank in, “the girls are the ones behind all this. Just wait until I get my hands on them!”
I started to rise from my chair to confront Tara and the others, who were over at Serena’s place… but found I could not bring myself to stand up. After several minutes, I gave up on my plan on giving them a piece of my mind, and suddenly found I could stand with no trouble at all. Right about then, an instant message alert popped up on my screen. It was from Serena.
“I’m sure that by now you’ve figured out that you can’t act against us. That’s because we planted a post-hypnotic command which prevents you from doing anything to us. It will also keep you from telling anybody that we are doing this to you. Don’t panic, Mel. We will return you to normal as soon as we are done having our fun, and things will go a lot easier for you if you play along willingly. If you are a good girl for us, we might remove all the hypnotic suggestions at the end of the year, and let you have your life back.”
“What’s going on? Why are you doing this!?” I typed back.
“I’ll tell you over the phone.”
She disconnected, and a moment later the phone rang. I picked it up.
Listen carefully, Melissa. Now that you know that somebody else is making you do all this, you will unable to tell anybody about it, either as Melissa or as Dave. When you go in to see the shrink, you will reveal to him that you had always been curious about girl’s clothes, even at a young age. You will tell him stories about sneaking into your mom’s room or Tara’s room and trying things on. You will lead him to believe that you feel much more comfortable, confident, and fulfilled when dressed as Melissa.
When you go to these sessions, you will have a bra and panty set on under your clothes, and you will be sure to wear a shirt that utterly fails to hide the fact that you have a bra on. If he asks you about it, you will tell him you always wear women’s lingerie, which will be the truth because as of today you will take all your men’s briefs and throw them into the incinerator, and you will never be without a bra again, unless you are wearing a dress or top which bares too much of your shoulders or back.
Finally, from now on you shall become Melissa every Monday through Wednesday, and go into work at the studio all day. As usual, you will insist that your pay be sent to us, your agents.
My life had become more regimented than ever before. On Saturdays, I would buy new girlie things, which were beginning to really fill my closet, and show them off to my mom. I could never remember anything about Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, but I knew exactly what was happening because the girls would tell me all about it afterwards. Then every Thursday I had to go in to the psychologist and tell him all about “my desire” to cross-dress.
Fridays were the worst, though. The girls would come over and “dare” me to do all kinds of embarrassing things, like signing “Melissa” up for ballet classes next Fall, or taking the quizzes published in Cosmo and various teen magazines for their amusemnt. They wouldn’t use hypnosis, to force me… they would just threaten to extend the time I would be dressing as Melissa for a few more months.
In April, my cousin Kathy was going to get married, and she wanted me to be an usher. The week before the wedding, I tried on my old tuxedo to make sure it still fit. It seemed loose around the stomach, but kind of snug around the hips. It still fit okay, though, so I wasn’t too worried about it. I put it back in the closet and decided it would do just fine.
The morning of Kathy’s wedding, I got another e-mail from the girls. This time, they went a little too far.
“We just loved you in these two dresses, so we decided to let you keep them. You will find them in your closet. We’ve been talking about it, and we agree that Melissa will wear the blue dress when she goes to the prom with Jessica’s brother Tim next month. We also decided that Dave… that’s right, not Melissa, Dave… should wear the pink one when we all go out for Tara’s birthday in June.”
It was more than I could stand. Not only do they plan on having me dating a boy while under their control, but they intend to force me to go out in drag under my own control, too! There was no way I could let this happen. I would show them, though… I would haul both of those gowns down to the incinerator and destroy them.
I threw my closet doors open, and saw the dreaded gowns hanging next to my tuxedo. I took a breath to build my courage, reached in and grabbed at them, and ran downstairs and out to the incinerator in back, laughing nervously as I went.
Mom stepped into the hall just as I tossed the last cuff of my tux in through the steel trap-door, and hit the switch to turn on the flames.
“Dave, if you can’t stand to wear your tux anymore, you really should have said so instead of over-reacting like this.”
“Oh no,” I thought, “How did I grab the tux instead of those damned gowns!?” Not only did I just destroy the tux I need today, but I failed to prevent the fate that awaited me in those dresses.
“Well, if you’re not going to wear a tuxedo, I guess you will need to find something else suitable for seating people at a wedding. That black dress you bought back in January would be perfect. Go do your face and hair and change into it, quickly. They wedding starts in just a few hours.”
As always, I obeyed mom’s instructions. While I was changing, she was talking on the phone downstairs.
“I called Kathy and explained that you’ve been a closeted cross-dresser who decided to reveal herself today, since so much of your family will be gathered in one place. Under the circumstances, I think she took it pretty well. She even promised that she would ask the members of the wedding party to refer to you as Melissa tonight, although it is too late to change the name on any printed material, so everybody in the church will probably notice it’s you before you get a chance to make any announcements. Now, since you are going out as a girl for the first time, I expect you to behave as a perfect young lady today.”
“Yes, of course, mother. I promise to be perfectly ladylike. Thank you for doing this.” As I was saying this, completely against my will, it finally sank in that the reason I had refused anything mom asked since the end of October was because it was part of the trance.
“And since your secret is going to be out, I guess there’s no point in keeping the last of your boy clothes around anymore, is there Melissa?”
“Not at all! I’ll give them all away to charity this week.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I wanted to throw up, but held it down for the sake of being ladylike, which scared me even more. “I’m so glad you talked me into coming out like this, mom.”
“I guess this means you are going to be Melissa all the time from now on, won’t you?” she asked.
“It sure does, mom! You’ve got a new daughter now!”
At that very moment, something clicked in my head. I suddenly remembered every word of every hypnosis session with the girls. I could remember Melissa applying for a job as a model, and working as a waitress three nights a week at the local nightclub. I could remember all the photoshoots, and worst of all, I could remember another memory they had hidden from me… that I had talked my psychiatrist into prescribing strong estrogen supplements for me, and I had quickly been developping a much more girlish figure.
Worst of all, I instantly knew that it no longer mattered what I could remember. With my declaration of becoming Melissa “from now on” to my mother, I had committed myself to never again dress, talk, or behave like Dave, even though I would never again think I was Melissa. I would indeed be going to the prom with Tim, and if he wanted to keep seeing me I suppose that means I will become his girlfriend. I would live the rest of my life in womanhood while knowing I was not a woman.
One Year Later
“Hi, Tara… come on in! You were right about getting my own place. This is great! Between modeling and waitressing, I was able to afford this cute little apartment, and pay my tuition at beautician school, and still have enough to take dance classes. I would ask you to stay and visit for a while, but I’m in kind of a hurry right now, because I’m going out for lunch in a minute.”
I so desperately wanted to ask her to hypnotize me again, and let me go back to being myself. Even if I still had to look like this, at least I could be in control of my own actions and personality. She and her friends made a fortune off my modeling career, especially during those early months when they were keeping it all for themselves. Giving me my life back seems like the least they could do.
Every once in a while, Tara would say something to hint that they might undo the commands someday soon, but she was never very specific about it, and I couldn’t ask her about it, because I’m still compelled to behave exactly as if I believe I really am Melissa, a.k.a. Tara’s older sister, a.k.a. professional model, a.k.a. nightclub waitress, a.k.a. dancer, a.k.a. beauty school student…
“Say, do you think Tim will like me in this outfit?”
…a.k.a. Tim’s girlfriend.