From: adietrech@aol.com (A Dietrech)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Story:  Larry's Got a Girlfriend  1/1  TG  femdom
Date: 11 Dec 1994 08:55:05 -0500

                        Larry's Got A Girlfriend
                             by Donna Baker

"My dad's a union man, and he's gonna vote for Kennedy," argued Randy.

"Baloney!"  Mike always had an answer.  "My old man showed me a book
where it says Kennedy's a communist!  If Nixon don't win, the whole
army'll kill Kennedy and all the communists and everybody, and he'll be
President, anyway!  What do you know!  You're only in sixth grade!"

"Well, I'm in eighth, and ..." Larry started.

"Aw, shut up, sissy!" yelled Mike, and the others quickly chimed in,
Randy loudest of all.  Larry just stopped and turned his back to them.
They left after a minute, laughing while they walked.  He tried to
remember what his mom had told him, that they just called him a sissy
because they knew it made him cry.  He knew he wasn't a sissy!  Why did
they keep saying it?

Larry chose to take the short cut home, the one through the little
three-story professional office building, to avoid further teasing from
his classmates.  He knew the path through the lobby, out the back, and
over the fence to his own block.

As he passed under the lobby stairs, he looked up at the sounds of
footsteps in the otherwise empty room.  An attractive woman had stopped
about five steps from the top, going through her purse and mumbling to
herself.  That's one reason he liked this short cut; there were plenty
of "real pretty ladies" there, ladies who wore stylish dresses and
high-heeled shoes and lots of makeup, just like on TV.

He approached the stairs quietly, and more than a little fearfully.  She
was standing right by the rail, and the lad realized that his every step
closer to her let him see further up her dress!

The awestruck boy just stood there, staring up.  Her lightweight wool
circle skirt swished and swayed around her legs with her least movement.
Larry could see her slip beneath it, and was surprised that it wasn't
white, like his mom's slips, but beige, with a frilly lace hem.  Her
shoes were remarkably tall, with narrow spike heels more than four
inches high.  They were the highest heels he'd ever seen!  They were
exactly the same yellow color as her sweater.  Her hair was blond and
long, and flowed in counterpoint to her skirt when she'd turn her head.

When she bent over to pick up a box, he thought for a second she'd seen
him.  He ducked under the stairs and held his breath as long as he
could.  He knew he shouldn't be peeking like this, but it really was an
accident, and anyway, it wasn't his fault if he just stood there, was
it?

After a few more agonizing seconds without hearing anything from above
him, he stuck his head tentatively out from the shadows, scanned the
empty room, and looked up, again.  This time, he was really surprised.

The woman had put one foot up on the next higher step, resting the box
on her knee to look through it.  Larry could see farther than ever up
her skirt!

The boy was entranced with the feminine vision thus displayed.  The long
curve of her sheerly clad leg was visible right up to the darker shade
of her stocking tops.  He didn't really understand why, but looking up
into the inviting lace and nylon cavern somehow made his penis crawl
inside his shorts, like when his dad drove over a bump in the car when
he wasn't expecting it.

When the woman turned and walked down the stairs, he suddenly started
walking too, as if he'd just come in.  He was blushing bright red,
afraid he'd been discovered, but she gave no indication.  She walked
straight back to the door, about three steps ahead of him.  As he
followed her, Larry studied her magnificent derriere, appreciating it on
a subliminal level.  The enticing roll of her hips was pretty, not lewd,
to a boy who still didn't fully comprehend the facts of life.  He
attributed it to her high heels.  Thinking about the slip and stockings
under those swaying globes kept his bug feeling "funny."

They got to the door, and she stopped.  She looked right at him, and
smiled her warmest, biggest smile.  "Could I persuade a handsome
gentleman like you to help me get this box of music out to my car?" she
asked.  Somehow, she sounded like she really meant the "gentleman" part;
she wasn't making fun of him, like the boys had been.

"Sure, Ma'am!" he said, trying to use a real deep voice so he'd sound
older.  He took the box and backed through the door, holding it open for
her.

"It's Miss, and thank you!" she nodded.  She sidled through the door
with her breasts pointing right at him, almost grazing his chest!  She
was as old as his mother, but her carefully painted face mesmerized the
boy.  Her eyebrows were sculpted to perfection, her pouty lips painted
bright red, and the dose of perfume she'd added on the stairs
overwhelmed his senses.

He dropped the box in her trunk and then ran around to open her car
door.  He wasn't at all prepared for her next move -- she leaned forward
and kissed him on the forehead!  As she swept past to climb into her
car, her sweater-covered breast brushed his shoulder, and when she sat,
her skirt slid up to reveal her tawny stocking tops.

Larry's whole body "felt funny" now, not just his penis!

He just stood there, looking at her legs.  He didn't want her to leave,
or even move, not for ever and ever!  "Uh, that was a box of music?" he
mumbled, praying she'd stay for just a second more.

"Yes," she smiled, and opened her purse.  "I teach piano.  Do you play?"

"No, Ma'am ... I mean, Miss.  I used to, but ..."  He trailed off as he
recognized the little round black and silver garter doohickie that held
up her stockings.  He'd seen his mom's a few times.

The door closed without her ever pulling down her skirt.

She reached out the window.  "Here's my card.  Perhaps your parents will
let you take lessons."  Larry watched her all the way out the driveway.
She waved at him before she pulled out into the street!  He waved back,
numbly.

When he turned around, there were Mike and Randy and the other boys.
They started sing-songing, "Larry's got a girlfriend!  Larry's got a
girlfriend!" and laughing and pointing at him.  That's when he figured
out that she'd left a lipstick mark on his forehead!  He turned and ran
away, jumping over the fence.  He took a moment to catch his breath,
determined to remember every single instant of his rapturous encounter
with the most beautiful woman in the world!

He floated all the way home, stopping to touch his forehead every few
steps.  He could see a little bit of pink on his fingertip.  Sure, the
boys' teasing had hurt him.  But, it was worth it!

                                   II

"Miss Dorothy Glamis, private piano lessons," the card said.  All of a
sudden, music was the most important thing in Larry's world!

His mom had arranged piano lessons when he was younger, but "the stupid
teacher got mad at me for no reason," and suspended the lessons, which
was just fine with Larry.  She was skeptical when he suddenly wanted to
become a young Van Cliburn, but a thirteen-year-old can be pretty
persuasive to a mother who loves him.  "I know a lots better teacher
than old Mrs. Moore," he told her.  It took two weeks, but he got his
way.  Larry could hardly wait for his first lesson.

Dorothy was equally excited!  She'd stopped on those office stairs
hoping to catch a man, preferably in the vulnerable 45-55 range, and one
with money, to boot.  The real estate offices downstairs were well-
stocked with them.  Instead, she had found an exquisitely beautiful boy
peeking peeking up her dress, and on the spur of the moment, had vamped
him.

Until his mother had called her to arrange lessons, she hadn't given the
boy any further thought.  She had never tried to mix her music with The
Cause.  The Cause she'd devoted her life to.

Revenge on the world of men!

It suddenly dawned upon her the day after she'd agreed to take him on on
as another student.  She had here a chance to make up for some of the
jerks who had used her talent and her desire for success as nothing more
than a tool to get into her pants.  She had it well within her power to
save the world from one more selfish, domineering, insensitive, arrogant
male beast.

She could transform the little snot into a woman!

When she opened her front door for his first lesson, he almost peed his
pants!  It was just a shirtdress, but it was made of shiny red nylon,
belted around a waist so tiny he could have closed his hands around it.
More importantly, though, the shirt front was open, displaying a
cleavage that would have stunned any man!

The dress wrapped around her globes like slick red gloves, squeezing her
heavy breasts until they bulged from between her lapels.  Her skirt
flowed outward from her tiny waist over layers of petticoats that
swished loudly as she walked.

He just stood there, staring at her bodice.  She spoke gently, inviting
him in, then asked him about school and home.  Before long, he relaxed
enough to respond.  He'd never met a woman so pretty, nor one so nice to
him!

She led him to the piano -- a big, shiny black upright with a mirror
across the front.  She set out the same beginner's book Mrs. Moore had
used, and had him show her what he'd learned.  It wasn't much.

"This is the beginners' method I like to teach from," she said, and put
down a short little green book in front of his old tall one.

He tried the first couple of exercises, but they were too hard.

"Maybe the old book is distracting you," she said, and took it away.
Over the top of the little book, he could see himself in the mirror.
And next to him, he could see Miss Glamis -- just from her chin down.
She was standing behind him, and her jugs were hanging right over his
shoulder!

It was several long seconds before she stepped aside so he could no
longer see her, and several more before he recovered enough to try the
piano, again.

He couldn't get enough of her as she moved in and out of his line of
sight!  At first, he tried not to look, but then he realized that, since
the mirror cut off his view of her face, she couldn't see his either, so
he experimented more boldly with his stares.  As she gave no sign of
noticing his interest in her breasts, he concluded that she didn't know
he was ogling her almost constantly between exercises.

The book was really tough, but he was absolutely determined to play his
best.  He didn't even consciously realize why he was suddenly trying so
hard, but Dorothy knew!  Whenever he'd make mistakes or let his
attention wander, she would step out of his view.  When he did it right,
she'd snuggle up close, so that he could feel her big fluffy skirt
pressing against his elbow, and see her enormous bustline filling the
mirror.

With that incentive, she was confident the boy would make rapid
progress, indeed!

And when it was finally time to go, she bestowed upon him the grandest
prize he could imagine -- another kiss!

                                  III

Dorothy watched him carefully as she opened the door for his second
lesson, noting that his eyes were much more interested in her silky
white blouse than in the way her pencil-slim skirt hugged her full
thighs.

"We're going to duet, today," she announced, and sat right next to him
on the bench.  Her cool sleeve constantly tickled his arm as they
played.  With her body so close, he couldn't help but look right down
into the deep V of her decolletage, where he caught occasional glimpses
of the delicate white lace that cupped her warm treasures.

The lad honestly didn't associate the sight of her flesh with sex, per
se; he just knew that Dorothy was beautiful, and that he felt really
funny every time her bra showed.  Pretty soon, he was so worked up he
couldn't function any longer.  He just sat there, his wide eyes drowning
in the depths of her bosom.

She cleared her throat, causing her breast flesh to jiggle, but also
shaking Larry from his reverie.  He looked up into Dorothy's eyes, and
saw immediately that she knew he'd been staring at her breasts.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" he cried, quickly turning white, then red, as he
dropped his head in shame.  "I'm stupid! stupid! stupid!" he thought to
himself.  "I shouldn't start at her like a maniac!  She'll throw me out,
or have me arrested!"

"What's wrong, Larry," she solicited, reaching down and taking his
sweaty hand between hers.

"I'm sorry, Miss Glamis," he said, the tears starting to flow.  "I was
staring at your titties ... I mean ...  Oh, Jeeze!  I'm sorry!  I ..."

"Calm down, sweetheart!" she cooed, smoothing his hair.  "It's all
right, I understand!"

Between sobs, he managed to look up, again.  Her friendly smile
reassured him.  "You mean, you're not mad at me?"

"Just because you think I'm pretty?  You can't help looking at me when I
wear something this nice.  I wore this just for you, Larry.  It makes me
feel very feminine when a young man admires my appearance.  Do you think
I'm pretty, Larry?"

"Oh, God, Miss Glamis!  You're the prettiest woman in the world!"  She
smiled disbelievingly, coaxing another complement from him.  "No,
really!  You're the prettiest woman I ever knew.  Ever!  You're even
prettier than Mrs. Hampton, that used to teach seventh grade math, and
all the guys said she musta been a movie star, once!"

"I'm sorry if it disturbs you when my arm touches yours, but that always
happens when we play duets."

"No, that's OK!" he protested.  "I think it feels neat."

"Really?"

"Really!" he enthused.  "It so soft, and slidey, and ... you know!"

"I certainly do!  It's wonderful to be a girl and feel pretty clothes
against your skin all day."  She said, stroking her own arm.  "I'm very
lucky."

"Yeah."  Larry suddenly looked sad.  "It's not fair."

It was fortunate that Larry had dropped his dejected gaze, for even he
would have noticed the slow blinking of Dorothy's big, brown eyes as she
struggled to control herself.

"Perhaps ...  No, it wouldn't work."

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing.  I was just trying to think of something so my blouse
wouldn't bother you, but I couldn't very well take it off, could I?"

"Oh, no!" he responded quickly.  He honestly had not imagined her
without her clothes.

"Of course, I couldn't!  But I just thought that maybe, if you had
something similar to wear, then mine wouldn't bother you so much.  I'd
change to something rough, like your shirt, but I just don't have
anything like that!  Oh, well, you wouldn't want to wear something soft
and feminine like this, anyway, even if it was really a boy's shirt."

"You mean you've got a boy's shirt made out of this kind of stuff?" he
asked, pointing to her sleeve.

Within another minute, both of them were shivering as Larry slid his
naked torso into a cool, slick white silk blouse.  Dorothy fastened the
buttons down his chest so he wouldn't notice they were on the wrong
side.

Suddenly all business, Dorothy led him back to the keyboard.  It was all
she could do to finish the lesson without grabbing him and smothering
his face in her bosom!  For Larry, the hour seemed to be over before it
had started.  He stalled as long as possible until she pulled the lovely
blouse from his narrow shoulders.

"See you next week," she smiled after planting a longer and wetter kiss
than before upon his forehead.

He almost forget to wipe it off before he got home.

                                   IV

She had not anticipated the rapidity of the child's enslavement to her
beauty, and it made her all the hungrier.  She suspected correctly from
his obvious innocence that he had never even masturbated, much less
experimented with girls his own age.  That very innocence would have
tickled her sense of decency enough for her to release him, had it not
also tickled her sexuality.  She was as much trapped by her passions as
he was.

Larry heard her playing when he rang the bell.  "Come on in and sit
down," he heard her shout.

He didn't recognize the Debussy, but the sensual strains could not help
but relax him as he admired her skill.  He saw immediately that she was
wearing the same blouse as last time, and dared to hope she would loan
him the matching boy's one, again.  His penis started crawling as his
wandering gaze picked up the silky white garment on a hanger over the
door to the kitchen.  He wished he could see her pretty face in the
piano mirror, but the music was in the way.

She held down the last soft, delicious chord for several long seconds
after the sound stopped, anticipating the pleasure to come.  A wooden
"thunk" sounded as she released the ivories and spun to face her prey.

His open-jawed stare was everything she had hoped for.  She had applied
full stage makeup, today, as if ready for the Hollywood Bowl!  Her brows
were penciled in an upswept arc, her cheeks ruddy, and her features
emphasized with unsubtle shading.  Her eyes were resplendent with heavy
blue shadow and white highlights, black liner, and enormous false
lashes.  Her lips had been enlarged with the careful application of
several shades of liner and paint, with a film of glycerine to keep them
sparkling-moist.  Knowing that nothing was too outrageous for the
inexperienced boy, she had even indulged in a beauty mark!

"Are you ready for duet practice?" she asked while retrieving the spare
blouse.

"I said, are you ready?" she repeated, holding it open for him.

"Uh, yeah ... I'm sorry," he mumbled.  It took him some time to unfasten
his own shirt, as he was unable to tear his eyes away from his
enamorata.  She simply smiled, and let him drink his fill while she
buttoned up his blouse.

Of course, he could not begin to concentrate after they sat down.  Try
as he might, he could not lower his eyes from the mirror to the lesson
book.

"You're beautiful!" he sighed.

"You haven't seen stage makeup, before, have you Larry?"

"Huh?"

She suppressed a giggle, then explained.  "I've got a performance,
tonight, after your lesson, so I put on my stage makeup early.  Everyone
who performs has to put on lots of makeup.  Otherwise, the bright lights
make you look like a blob of dough."

She was lying about the performance, of course.  Her career in this city
had ended the moment she had landed her pointed toe in the crotch of the
unashamed lech who presided over the Symphonic Association.

She repeated herself.  He had not picked up her suggestion, the first
time.  "Even the men and boys have to wear makeup on stage, Larry."

"You're beautiful!" he repeated.

"Why, thank you, you're very sweet!"  Undaunted, she tried once again.
"You know, a pianist has to wear makeup on stage when she performs.
You'll be up there, some day, too."

He looked momentarily puzzled.  Was he ...

"You mean I'll have to wear makeup, too?"

SHE HAD HIM!

"Of course, you will, sweetheart."  She forced herself to stay calm.
"It's not a sissy thing, at all.  You know, Roy Rogers and Gene Autry
wear makeup when they make their films."

"Really?"

"Come on with me, I'll show you."  She arose, took his hand, and led him
into her bedroom.

He hardly noticed the frilly pink lace decor of her boudoir, intent as
he was on her overwhelming presence.  The whole time she worked on his
face, she kept a monologue running to distract him.  He was perfectly
happy to sit passively, while she applied the contents of one mysterious
bottle or jar after another.  The shiny little black mole glued to her
cheek was the sun around which his eyes orbited.  They watched her
glistening lips work, and wondered at her fluttering lashes, but always
returned home to the artificial beauty spot.

"There!" she announced, as she pinned a chignon to the back of his head
and applied a final heavy dose of hair spray.  That broke his attention
from her face.

"What are you doing?" he finally questioned.

"Thank God he didn't have it in a butch!" she thought to herself.  "I
don't know if I could have gotten a wig on him!"

"All done!" she said aloud, and spun him to face the mirror before he
could realize that she had been doing more than he imagined.

She leaned over slightly, so she could support his suddenly-weak
shoulders.  Her smile was radiant, and his totally blank.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she gushed.  "We're twins!"

In the mirror, Larry saw not one, but two incredibly beautiful women.
He realized that one of them was himself.

And he liked it!

                                   V

"I'm beautiful, too!" he whispered.

"Even more beautiful than me!" she cooed.  She thought she was lying,
but an impartial witness might well have agreed.

His hand reached up to touch his face, but she stopped him.  "Careful,
you mustn't smear it."

His mouth finally closed.  "Do you think you can try a smile?" she said
playfully.  He tried.

His soft, brown eyes got suddenly bigger.  He spun to face her and
almost shouted!  "Miss Glamis, I'm beautiful!  I'm beautiful!"

Dorothy pulled herself back suddenly and shot a look to the ceiling,
trying desperately to hold herself together.  Larry hardly noticed.  He
had jumped up to put his face up close to the mirror.  "I'm even
prettier than Linda Perry, and she's the prettiest girl in the eighth
grade!" he squealed.

It was better than she had planned, better than she could have imagined.
Her program for the boy suddenly expanded tenfold!

"Let's go back to the piano, Larry."  She tried to take his hand.

"No!" he pulled away, returning to the mirror.  "I want to look some
more!"

"You can look in the piano, sweetheart!  Now come on, and let's get some
lessons in!"  She maintained her cheerful disposition, and didn't show a
trace of impatience.

And now, to her astonishment, Larry tackled the lessons vigorously,
instead of lolling and staring at the mirror.  He accomplished more in
the next twenty minutes than he normally would have in the whole hour!

Larry's glowing face glanced upwards frequently, basking in their
reflections, but his primary focus was on the music.  She could only
shake her head, and defer her planning for his future while she
scrambled to keep ahead of him in the music lesson.  It was not until
alarm clock signaled the end of his time that she remembered it would
take at least fifteen minutes to cleanse the child's face.

"Promise we'll do this again, next time!" he pleaded as she flushed the
cold cream off with the water gun from the kitchen sink.  She called his
mother to apologize for the lesson running over while he toweled off.
She was startled when she turned around to find him wearing the blouse!

"Can I wear this home?" he asked hopefully.  That took her aback, but
just for a moment.

"Certainly, Larry," she smiled, thinking frantically.  What were his
friends' names?  The ones he talked about who had teased him?

"I'm so happy for you, Larry!  Mike and Randy will really be surprised
when the see how pretty you are!"

In an instant, his face matched the show-white blouse perfectly.  "Um
...  Maybe I better not wear this home, Miss Glamis.  I better just wear
my shirt, you know?"

"Certainly, darling, whatever you want.  Let me help you with your boy-
things."

He wouldn't be telling!

After he left, she pondered the speed of his transformation.  It had
literally taken her breath away!  "Damn it, Dorothy!" she chuckled.
"You're a genius!"

She was too proud of herself, too full of dreams of revenge, and too
much a slave to ignorance, to realize the truth.  On his very next
visit, she decided, she would have him in frilly undies, hose, heels,
falsies, and skirt.  And on the visit after that -- anything!

The woman was so wrapped up in her plans, she couldn't see the truth.
She thought she was weaving an evil net around the boy to drag him into
degradation.

And while it was true that she was starting inexcusably early, tampering
where she didn't belong, it was also true that she was liberating him.
She was saving him.

For all the wrong reasons, Dorothy was giving Larry a chance that very
few of his generation received.  A chance at an adolescence and
adulthood that would bypass a mountain of confusion, self-loathing,
physical and mental abuse -- and possibly, suicide.

A chance to become the woman that God had intended!