Making Lemonade

By L. Rochelle
(c) 1999 L. Rochelle
lrochelle@zdnetonebox.com

This is my first attempt at writing of any kind, let alone a story. Please keep in mind that this is a work in progress and may be changed to reflect and enhance events that may occur as the story unfolds. I have decided to go ahead and post this story in an uncompleted form to Fiction Mania's Mailing list in the hopes of receiving some input and criticism. Also, I would like to point out that this story thus far contains no sex, but has a TG theme. So, if you are offended by such a story or are underage (-18), please deposit in the circular file.

At this point, I would like to thank several people for their patience and understanding. To ChilliTNG, thank you for editing this hack job and providing the instruction that I sorely needed to be able to write at all. To Janice Dreamer, for your kind words of praise for my developing writing abilities as well as a second editor. Thank you for taking the time to post this story to the list for me. And last of all I give special thanks to Wendy J for your encouragement and input. Your friendship and love has been an inspiration to me. I also thank you for believing in me and my abilities even when I wouldn't believe in myself. To all three of my dear friends I love you all and count myself lucky to consider you as the best of friends.

Sapphire has exclusive rights to archive this story at Sapphire's Place. All rights to "Making Lemonade" is mine alone.


Chapter Two

Just as Mark predicted, his mother was upset about the two weeks detention. She decided that it was only fitting that he should be grounded during those two weeks. Mark wasn't allowed phone calls, which he only started getting that evening, or visits from Jay or Chuck. Also, part of the deal was that he had to do the dishes and, outside of meals, church and school, he had to remain in his room. Without much to do, he became very bored in a hurry.

"Mom, can I stop by the library on the way home from school tomorrow? I need to get something to read while I'm stuck in my room," Mark asked loudly from his room.

Marianne walked into Mark's room looking put out. "Why don't you read your Bible? That should keep you busy for several months," she suggested.

Mark's face showed his distaste of the suggestion. Reading the Bible was, if nothing else, extremely boring. Beside the fact that it was difficult to understand, it required wading through a lot of drivel just to get to anything remotely interesting. About the only part that he could take pleasure from was the songs and poems of the Book of Psalms. "Come on, Mom. You know I can't get into it. I need some variety. Please?" he begged.

"All right. But, straight home from the library. I'll give you one hour," said Marianne. Her disappointment with Mark's lack of faith in God deeply depressed her. "I wish you would embrace Jesus and trust in Him to guide you in life. He can give you peace and joy in your heart, if you'll only trust Him."

"Mom, we've been through this before," Mark explained for what seemed like the millionth time. "I have tried it your way. It doesn't work for me. I'm still miserable and a social outcast. You don't know what it's like to have everybody treat you as though you've got some highly contagious disease. I have to live in this world and this life and I can't put all of my hopes in something that I can't be sure even exists. This... this religion may work for you, but it doesn't work for me." He knew his mother wouldn't listen. She firmly believed in God and Jesus and the promises of the Christian religion, but to Mark, it was like every other religion or cult he'd ever heard of. To him, religion was a means to control the masses and bore little resemblance to the truth. Sure, there was probably some truth to all religions, but he couldn't wholly embrace any system of belief just because some of it rang true.

Mark's mother couldn't begin to understand the pain and heartache that Mark lived with daily. He still had to deal with the teasing and the snide remarks behind his back when the other kids thought he couldn't hear. Being smarter than most didn't help, either. All of those in the Gifted Students program served as tutors; all, that is, except for Mark, a fact he blamed on the combination of his intellect and his appearance. Even Mark's younger brother Joe looked upon Mark as someone other than an older brother. He thought his duty as Mark's brother was to protect him. Any time someone threatened Mark with physical harm, Joe would rise to the occasion and deal with them. It was embarrassing to have his younger brother fight for him. Mark wanted to try some karate classes, but, unfortunately, there was no money and his mother didn't like the idea. He tried to get Joe to teach him some self-defense techniques, but Joe just said that he would take care of any problems that might arise and told Mark to concentrate on his mind instead.

Mark's mother and his brothers though that he had everything to live for and even in some ways envied his intellect. Mark felt just the opposite. He considered his intelligence a curse because he knew what everyone thought about him and he knew that nothing he said or did would change their views. He knew deep down that he was different from everyone else, but he couldn't admit this, even to himself, and chose instead to suppress the thoughts. One thing the Bible did say was that only the innocent can live happy, blissful lives, and that knowledge brings misery. He found through personal experience that there was a lot of truth in this, but no one would allow him to forego the attainment of knowledge. It was his duty to fully utilize the gift that he was born with, no matter how much misery it caused him.

Now, with everything else Mark had to endure, there were the girls to worry about. He still couldn't get over the fact that they seemed sincere and every fiber of his being wanted to believe that they were. But... they did have quite a reputation and he was the one everybody picked on. He couldn't help but wonder what they saw in him or whether or not he was being set up for some sick joke. Even if he played it safe and rejected the girls, he felt fairly certain that they would not back off. But... then again, if he accepted and they weren't playing some sort of game... What a change for the better his life would take.

The next day as he walked to school, he was preoccupied with thoughts of just about everything. The girls. Detention. The gangs that continually harassed him, well, except for Mayhem and his crew. They had started trying to induct Mark into their ranks. How could everything get so out of hand so quickly? He was deep into his own thoughts when he entered the usual gate at school that he ran right into Nancy. "Oh my God. I'm so sor..." He was suddenly silent. The sight of Nancy along with the eight other girls standing at the gate left him without a voice.

"Hi, sweetie. We just thought we'd start your day out on a positive note. You don't mind, do ya?" Nancy said seductively.

All Mark was able to do was open and close his mouth several times, still unable to utter a word. "I'm still asleep," he thought. "That has to be it. There is no way this could be happening."

Nancy didn't wait for Mark to regain his composure. She embraced him and kissed him deeply. Meanwhile, the rest of the girls formed the gauntlet they had the previous day. Just like the day before, Mark was propelled into the corridor created by the girls and was kissed passionately by each one. And, just as before, he was sent to a world without thought, a world where emotions reigned. Many years of hard work bringing his emotions under control were undone and he was left without the ability to deal with them or anything else, for that matter.

"Mark? How are you doin'?" asked Donna. "Come on. Just hold on to me. Your head should clear soon. I guess this is all pretty new to you, huh. Well, it won't be long before this'll all be routine."

Donna walked him to homeroom and left him with a kiss on the cheek. Mark's brain had cleared somewhat during the trip across the junior high campus but, as he walked into homeroom, he wished his mind was still in the clouds.

Ms. Fairchild started in on him as he took his seat. "Mr. O'Connell! I see you have decided to be on time this morning. One can only guess as to why," she said. The evil glint in her eyes and the tone of her voice gave proof that her comments were not meant as a compliment.

Mark thought it best to not say a word. The result of his remarks the day before was enough to keep down his anger, and he was in a pretty good mood. Mark had to admit that the girls were a large part of the reason.

The rest of the day went pretty much as the previous day had. One or more of the girls met him after each class and accompanied him to his next class. He was ushered to the girls' usual table and then they bought and served him his lunch. Nancy even brushed his hair. Afterwards, they all kissed him and escorted him to class. He was put through the same routine before detention as the previous day. He found that getting kissed on a regular basis helped his mind spend less time in the clouds.

His life settled into a routine that consisted of kisses before school, during lunch, and after school. He was even accompanied to classes. One of the girls brushed his hair during lunch which seemed to drain most of the tension of the day. To be honest, Mark couldn't understand what it was that the girls saw in him, but, at the same time, he didn't see any reason to dwell on it. He now had a reason to live and his attitude improved drastically. He was able to make it to school on time because he didn't want to miss his morning kisses. Needless to say, the next two weeks went by in a blur.

The first day after his detention ended, Jay was waiting for him outside the gate. Mark hadn't seen or spoken to Jay once while he had to go to detention, and Jay was naturally curious about all of the rumors. Joe hadn't been much help; he didn't like discussing things about his older brother. Usually, he had to try and explain to others about how Mark wasn't any different than anyone else, just a lot smarter. Joe was frustrated with the fact that he couldn't explain Mark's appearance.

One of the stories was confirmed as Mark made his way out the gate. The girls were waiting for Mark and they decided to give Jay a show. When Mark finally made it out, his brain wasn't functioning, which he thought he had gotten over by then.

"Hey, Mark! Are you there? Mark? Earth to Mark. Come in Mark," prodded Jay.

"Hun... What? Oh, Jay. How's it goin', man?" replied Mark as his head cleared. They began to walk home as Mark continued, "I'm glad to see ya. This detention BS has been a real bummer."

"Yeah, I'll bet. It seems kinda unfair that you were grounded, too. Being punished twice for the same thing. Isn't there a law against that?" Jay pointed out. "But from what I've heard and just now saw, it doesn't seem like you've had too bad a time. What's the story with the ladies, anyway?"

"I'm really not too sure. They seem to have adopted me or something. But so far it's been really cool. I mean, I don't have to buy lunch; hell, I don't even have to get it. And I'm constantly being kissed and hugged. I'll tell ya, I'm beginning to feel like one of them sheiks with his harem or something. It's been a lot of fun, but I'm still a bit worried. I mean, you know their reputation, and, so far, I've had little choice in the matter. And to top everything off, it seems like everybody in the whole school knows who I am now. Man, the whole situation has me scared to death sometimes. And Ms. Fairchild has been picking on me even more."

"Yeah, I hear ya. But, how'd you meet them? Did they walk up to you one day and corner you or something?"

"Kinda sorta. Actually, Nancy -- you know, the short blonde with the huge tits -- stuck a note in my books during English Lit. Well, she asked me to meet her for lunch and there they were. After that, I don't think I've even had a chance to breathe. So, what do ya think? Is it a dream or a nightmare?" asked Mark worriedly.

Jay started to laugh and shake his head. "Don't know. But I'd enjoy it while it lasts. You know, if they are setting you up for something, they sure are showing you a good time while doing it. Hell, have fun, but keep alert. You know, watch you back. By the way, I wouldn't mind if you'd introduce me to a few of them. I mean, what are friends for, anyway? Don't forget your old buddy Jay."

"Yeah sure. I'll see what I can do. But, I admit, I have been having a lot of fun. Life's been good lately," said Mark joyfully. His worries were pushed to the back of his mind for the moment. Jay made a lot of sense; as long as he kept his wits about him, it could be a lot of fun. One thing was for sure, Mark needed to gain some control in the relationship, which seemed to elude him so far.

"So, what's Chuck got to say about all this?" Jay continued.

"Hell, you know Chuck. All he ever wants to know is whether or not I've felt any of them up. Or if they've given me head. Man, the guy's a total pervert with a one track mind." Mark really didn't know why he was friends with Chuck. They had little in common, Chuck being lewd, crude, and socially unacceptable. Mark figured that, because he had so few friends, he accepted anybody who liked him.

"Well, have you? Have they?" asked Jay, his curiosity piqued.

Mark suddenly stopped in his tracks and glanced at Jay. "No, and no. In that order," he replied. He really couldn't blame Jay. After all Jay was going through puberty and his hormones were having a profound effect on his mind. "Jay, it ain't like that. I mean, I wouldn't mind some fun between the sheets, but, so far, the kissing is about all I can handle. They don't seem to be interested, at least, I don't think."

"Yeah, I hear ya. But, I think I'd at least try," said Jay.

"You know, you sound just like Chuck."

"Hey! No need to be insulting," said Jay, sounding hurt. "So, what's your mom got to say about it?"

Mark looked down as he walked. He did kind of feel a little guilty about his mother. "Well, she doesn't know. I mean, I haven't told her. You know how she is. She would probably call them a bunch of harlots or something. The last thing I need is more crap from her."

"Are you sure she doesn't know? I'm sure Joe knows about it, and he's probably told Billy, and you know Billy's got to say something."

"Well, if she does, she hasn't said a word to me about it. I know she's gotta find out sometime. I just wanna put it off as long as possible."

"Oh, hey, I almost forgot. Dad got me a dirt bike last week. It's a Yamaha 250. It's pretty old but it runs real good. You wanna go ridin' this afternoon?" said Jay, changing the subject. "We could go to The Oil Fields. You ever ride before?"

"Nah. Never been on a motorcycle. You'll have to teach me," replied Mark, relieved with the change of topic. "How old is it?"

"It's a '77. Dad says he got me an old one so he didn't have to worry about me tearing it up."

"Cool. I'll have to ask Mom. I'll just say we're going to ride our bikes," Mark explained. He hated lying to his mother but she would never approve of him riding a motorcycle. She was abnormally protective of Mark. She didn't like him doing anything where he could get hurt. It would be one thing if she treated his brothers the same way, but that was not the case. Joe got to play football and wrestle, and he did get beat up on occasion, but she didn't like it when Mark wanted to go bike riding. She did try to be fair, though, and allowed some activities that were relatively safe.

The rough terrain that was left over from an abandoned quarry and was now the home of eight oil pumping rigs was dubbed "The Oil Fields" by the kids in the area. It was really just a big hole about sixty or seventy feet deep and covered an area of approximately twenty acres. The sides of the depression were fairly uniform and sloped down at about forty-five degrees, making them ideal for jumping. Numerous mounds of dirt created smaller jumps for hill to hill hopping. A rather well established track had been pounded out by years of use by bicycles and motorcycles.

Mark and machines had a rapport of sorts. Whenever he had to deal with anything that was consistent and predictable, he was right at home. It was the unpredictable that gave him trouble. Emotions, thoughts, or ideas seemed to be beyond his grasp and he had recognized this fact early in his life. Consequently, he concentrated on things instead of people and developed almost a symbiosis of sorts with machines. After an initial inspection, he was able to understand how something worked and how best to use it.

Mark thoroughly enjoyed motorcycle riding. Jay gave him a run through on motorcycle fundamentals and Mark didn't find it too difficult. He rode like he was part of the bike, although he tired quickly from the use of muscles that he didn't even know he had. He had gone to The Oil Fields many times before to ride his bicycle, but this was the first time riding a motorcycle. The higher rate of speed required faster reflexes and a greater degree of muscle coordination. Mark found that he didn't have any trouble adapting, he just needed to build up some stamina.

When Mark limped in the door, his mother was waiting for him in the living room looking rather unhappy. "And what is wrong with you? You didn't go out and get hurt, did you? I told you I don't like it when you put yourself in situations where you could get injured. You have got to be more careful, okay?"

"Look, Mom. I'm fine. Just a little sore is all. I guess I just overexerted myself bike riding." Mark lied.

"Well, just be careful. You really need to find something to do with your mind and not your body. God gave you a brilliant mind and I would hate to see it go to waste if something happened to you," she said. "Anyway, I wanted to talk with you. While you were out there were four phone calls from four different girls. I don't like it. It isn't right. Good girls do not call boys on the phone. They should wait for the boy to call them. Who are these girls and what are their families like?"

"They're just friends from school. And anyway, it's the nineties, Mom. I mean, it's okay for girls to call boys. It's done all the time."

"I still don't like it. What kind of girl calls a boy? And don't forget, you're only thirteen and too young to date."

"Mom, chill, okay? They're just friends. Finally, some other kids are starting to like me and you're complaining. What, I'm not allowed to have friends?" complained Mark bitterly.

"Why can't you make friends in the church? Those are the kind of people you should be with. Not someone who doesn't know God."

"The kids at church don't like me. They act all stuck up. Like they're better than me or somethin'."

"I find that hard to believe. Maybe if you participated more in church functions, they would be able to get to know you better."

"Mom, we've been through this before. I know you love me and you are trying to help, but we live in two different worlds. I have to live my life," Mark replied. He then got up and left his mother sitting there, looking sad.

About two weeks before Halloween, there was an announcement over the PA. There was going to be a Costume Day the Friday before Halloween and everyone was to feel free to show up for school in their costumes. An assembly was scheduled for seventh period to judge costumes. Trophies were to be awarded and pictures were to be taken. Since dressing for Halloween had been an undesirable pastime for Mark, he didn't give it much thought.

Nancy, Karen and Mark approached their usual table for lunch. The rest of the girls were discussing something, but they became silent when they saw him. Mark began to feel a little apprehensive when he noticed the silence and the way the girls were staring at him. Everything had been going great and he was happier than he'd ever been, but he still couldn't understand why they liked him. They showered him with affection and showed no sign that they were getting tired of him. But, Mark was a bit paranoid.

Mark sat down and the girls resumed their conversation. Somehow, he didn't think they were talking about the same subject. After several minutes of the usual gossip, Donna turned to Mark and said, "Guess what? We've reserved costumes for the Costume Day. You know, Friday before Halloween. Anyway, we decided on a Snow White theme and we're gonna have you be the handsome prince. So, what do think? Will you do it? Please?"

"I don't know... I'm not into Halloween. I think it's kinda stupid," responded Mark.

"Oh, come on. Please? Do it for us. I think you're gonna make a very handsome prince. What do you think, girls?"

"Oh, you betcha. You're gonna be so handsome. You'll see," answered Nancy. The rest of the girls nodded their heads in agreement. Mark did notice a few of them trying to suppress their laughter.

"All right. I don't like it, but I'll do it," he said apprehensively. "Besides, how bad could it be?"

"Kewl. Then it's settled. Can you be at my house, say around six that Friday morning?" asked Donna.

"Yeah, sure. Six on Friday."

The two weeks went by quickly, at least until that fateful Friday, which turned out to be the longest day of Mark's life. He arrived at Donna's door right at six and she let him in. The girls were there already, and Kathy, Donna, Karen, and Sylvia were in costume. They still had makeup left to do and everyone else, except for Diane, were in various stages of undress.

"Hi, Mark. Are you ready?" asked Donna. Mark nodded, looking glum. "Come on, here's your costume. You can change in the bathroom right over there. And cheer up. It won't be so bad." She handed him the costume and he went into the bathroom. After closing and locking the door, he inspected the costume. There was a jacket with puffy sleeves at the shoulders that tapered down to the wrists. It was purple with gold ribs running vertically. There were royal blue breeches and white knee socks. The shoes were ankle high in black with a buckle closure. The costume looked kind of cool.

Mark undressed and donned the breeches. There wasn't any underwear and he didn't think boxers would be appropriate, so he went without. The breeches were a little tight in the hips and about an inch too long. The jacket seemed rather long and the sleeves were somewhat loose. The shoes were about two sizes too large and it was difficult to walk with his feet sliding around in the them. When he had the costume on and left the bathroom, he found Donna. "Donna. This costume seems to be a little big, especially these shoes. I'm gonna have blisters by the end of the day."

"Damn!" Donna cursed. "Diane's costume is too small. She can't even get the buttons to close. We've tried everything."

Donna, Nancy, Kathy, Sylvia, Judy, Chris, and Sam were the dwarves. Karen was dressed as the evil queen and Diane was to be Snow White. She came out of the bedroom looking rather smug. "Hey, Mark," she said sweetly. "That costume looks kind of big on you. I think we'll have to trade costumes. I can't get into mine and yours is too big and I'm taller than you. The costume shop must have screwed up on the sizes."

Diane was two inches taller then Mark and a little heavier. He was beginning to sense a setup. "Oh no! I am not going to school dressed as Snow White! No way! No how!"

"Oh, Mark. Please? We can't exchange the costumes. If you don't, it'll ruin the whole thing," Donna pleaded.

"No! Karen can probably fit into the costume. She's about my size."

"Then you'll have to go as the evil queen."

"No. I'm not going as the queen, either."

"Come on, Mark. There really isn't anything else that we can do. If we don't get on with it, then we'll be late for school and my mother will be pissed. Please? Pretty please?" she begged. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and the other girls looked as if the world was coming to an end.

Mark just couldn't hurt the girls. They had treated him as though he was their whole world and he'd never been happier. He still felt like he'd been set up, but they did seem sincere about the mix up.

"Oh, come on, Donna, don't cry. I'll do it. I don't like it, but I'll do it," he said dejectedly. "But you guys will have to keep me out of trouble. Man, I am never going to live this down."

"It won't be so bad. After all, it is for Halloween. I bet you'll look really cute as Snow White," Donna said cheerfully. Her quick recovery worried Mark a little. "Okay. Now go into the bedroom and take off that costume. I'll come in to give you a hand in a few minutes. Now, let's go. We're running out of time."

Mark went into the bathroom and retrieved his clothes. Then he went to the room Diane came out of earlier and removed the Prince Charming costume. He sat down on the bed in his usual baggy boxer shorts and extra large tee shirt. "I wonder if this was a set up. Knowing Donna, it very well could've been," he thought as he sat there waiting.

A few minutes later, Donna walked into the room and picked up the costume Mark had been wearing. She left the room and returned less than a minute later. "Okay. You'll have to take off your underwear. You're gonna need to feel the part," she said, opening one of the dresser drawers. "Here, put these on."

She was holding a pair of white satin panties. Mark just stood there without moving a muscle and looked at them. Donna smiled and said, "Come on. Don't be shy. You just wouldn't feel right without these."

He nervously took the panties and bowed his head in embarrassment. She watched him and when he still didn't move, she said, "Well. We don't have much time. Get with it."

"Can't I just wear my boxers, please? These seem kinda ridiculous," whined Mark.

"No, you can't. Just put them on. They'll make you feel right for the costume, and besides, nobody's gonna see them anyway."

Mark relented and turned his back to her. He removed his shorts and stepped into the panties. He had to admit that the panties did feel wonderful... kind of sexy.

"You'll have to take off your tee shirt, too," Donna added.

Mark removed his tee shirt and slowly turned to face Donna once again. "Wow! This is going to be easier than I thought. The way you always dress, I had no idea you were so... so... " she trailed off.

He looked down at his feet and the tears started to flow down his cheeks. "Donna, I... I can't help the way I... I look. I... I... I never did see what you guys saw in me, anyway. Let me get dressed and... and I'll leave," he cried, reaching for his tee shirt.

"No! Please don't go. To tell you the truth, I think you look awfully sexy. And I'm sure the rest of the girls will feel the same way," she said, taking his shirt out of his hand. "Okay. We're running out of time. So, dry up and grab a hold of the top of the bedpost. I need to get you into this corset." She wrapped the garment around his torso and began lacing it up the back. "Wow! This corset fits like it was made for you. It isn't too tight, is it? Can you breathe okay?"

"No. It seems comfortable enough. Breathing doesn't seem to be a problem," he mumbled.

"Good. Now, hold your arms out and I'll get you into this bra."

Mark held his arms out in front of him and she slid the bra straps up his arms. Then she had him turn around and she fastened the bra. When he turned back, her eyes grew big and bright. "Wow, Mark. Look at that cleavage. I don't think we're going to need any padding, other than what's already in the bra," she complimented. "Okay, come sit over here. I need to set your hair."

Mark looked down at his chest. The last time he paid any attention to what he looked like, he could see his ribs from his shoulders to his waist. Where did all this... this... this fat come from? "I... I can't do this," he said as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I mean, I can't go to school like this. I have... tits."

"I really doubt it. Look, it's probably just fat that got pushed up by the corset," consoled Donna. "Now, come on, sit down. We need to hurry."

She brushed out his hair and parted it in several places. She took small sections, sprayed them with water, and rolled them onto large pink rollers. Donna placed a plastic cap over the curlers and turned on the hair dryer. She bent down and ran her hand down Mark's leg, sending a chill up his spine. "No hair yet. That makes it easy."

She went over to the dresser and grabbed a pair of stockings that were sitting on top of it. "Okay, sweetie, lift up your foot. You're gonna like the way these feel." She bunched the stocking up and slipped it onto his foot. As she slid it up his leg, he couldn't believe the wonderfully silky texture. She slipped one of the garters that hung from the corset under the panties and fastened the stocking to it. She had him lift his other foot and repeated the procedure. He was then instructed to stand and turn around. She attached the garters at the rear after running them under the panties.

Donna held out a large white skirt and had him step into it. "This is a petticoat. It will make your skirt fill out a little." She tied it in the back at his waist. She checked his hair under the cap. Satisfied that it was dry, she removed the cap, but left the curlers in. Then she lifted another garment over his head and lowered it carefully. This one was more like a dress. It had short puffy sleeves that ended slightly above the elbows. The neckline was very low and showed an abundance of cleavage.

She had him sit down again, after telling him to smooth out his skirts as he sat. "Now, I'll do your makeup. You're going to look so gorgeous," she giggled. "I'll bet you'll have all the boys drooling all over you."

"Oh boy. Just what I need. Please, Donna, keep them away from me. I don't think I can handle it. I have enough to deal with already," pleaded Mark.

"Don't worry. We'll protect you," she said as she applied a light foundation. "Your skin is so soft and your features are so fine. You aren't gonna need very much help. Just a touch here and there should do it." She added a hint of blush to his cheeks and a little bit of light green eye shadow to his eyes. She applied two coats of brown mascara to his lashes. She then took a little brush and outlined his lips with a dark red. She finished up by filling in his lips with the same color. "There. All done. I just can't believe how beautiful you look."

She walked to the bed and retrieved a pair of boots that were lying there. "I hope these won't be too uncomfortable. It takes a special tool to fasten these shoes. You won't be able to take them off until we get home after school." The shoes had a one-inch heel and used some kind of button and hook closure. They were more like boots, rising to the middle of the calf. They were rather tight but tolerable.

"Okay, lift up your arms and I'll slip the dress over your head. Once it's buttoned up, you won't be able to remove it without help," she said, lowering the dress over his head.

The dress was made of a red velvet material. It fell to just above the ankles and about an inch below the petticoats. The bodice was rather tight with a rounded neckline that went below the bust. Combined with the corset, Mark had an unbelievably tiny waist. Two-inch wide straps dropped from the shoulders. Once buttoned, it lifted and pushed in the breasts, creating even more cleavage.

"Now, have a seat, and don't forget to smooth out your skirts. I just have to finish your hair and we'll be done," she said as she removed the curlers. After the last curler had been taken out, she brushed and shaped Mark's hair around his head. It flowed down his back and around his shoulders in soft waves. She let it fall in front of his shoulders to either side of his breasts.

"Wow! You're not gonna believe this. Come on." She took his hand and led him to the mirrored closet doors. "You know, I think you look better in this costume than anyone else would. You are truly beautiful."

"My God!" Mark thought as he stared at his reflection. "I knew I looked a bit like a girl, but... Wow! This is beyond comprehension. Hell, I could be a model! This just can't be happening." Then the realization of what he was about to do sunk in. "No!" he thought fearfully, "I can't go to school like this! No way!"

"Well, what do you think? I wish we had time to do your nails. But, I really didn't think you would turn out this good," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

"What? So, it was a set up! I trusted you guys! How could you do this to me?" Mark squealed as the tears welled up in his eyes.

"Look, Mark, don't start crying," Donna scolded. "You're gonna mess up your makeup. We...."

"I don't care!" Mark yelled, interrupting Donna. "I am NOT goin' to school dressed like THIS!" He ran into the bathroom, locked the door behind him, and stood, peering into the mirror, trying to rein in his emotions.

His whole world had just come crashing down around him. Looking at himself in the full length mirror on the door, he felt like such a fool to have considered himself a boy. No boy could ever look like this. "What am I going to do now? How am I supposed to deal with this? How could God create a boy just to make him look like a girl? I'm just God's sick little joke." he thought, drying his tears with a tissue. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind using meditation and deep breathing exercises. After a few minutes, he screwed up his courage and left the bathroom, his makeup in ruins.

Donna was sitting on the bed, wrapped in her mother's arms. She looked up at Mark when he came out of the bathroom. Her tear-stained face looked so remorseful. "Oh, Mark. I'm so sorry. I didn't think you would take it so badly. I didn't mean to hurt you. Can you forgive me? I couldn't bear to lose you as a friend."

Mark walked over to the bed and sat down next to her. He really didn't want to upset her any more than he had already, so he remembered to smooth his skirts as he sat. He began to notice the rest of the entourage standing around near the doorway. They stared at him as though they had never seen him before.

Nancy was the first to speak. "Mark, is that really you? We figured you'd look pretty good, but God! I'm really impressed." The other girls could only nod with their mouths open.

Mark looked over Donna's head at her mother, who had the same expression on her face. He smiled and shrugged. What could he say; he couldn't quite believe it either.

"You do look very beautiful, you know?" said Donna's mother.

He didn't know what to say in response, so he looked at Donna once again. He placed his arm on her shoulders and spoke softly. "Donna, it's okay. I mean, it's not really, but I do forgive you. I'm really sorry for upsetting you. It was... well... it was just quite a shock, if you know what I mean."

Donna began to cry again as she embraced Mark. "Oh, Mark. I should never have done this to you," she said between sobs.

"Come on, Donna. Cheer up. Besides, I really doubt this was all your doing," he said, trying to inject a little anger in his voice. He then looked at the others, trying to look angry as well, but he actually look kind of comical. The mascara was smeared and running down his cheeks. The lipstick trailed across his left cheek.

Donna looked at him and started to giggle between sobs. "Your makeup is a mess. Do you want me to fix it or do you want to change and forget the costume?" she asked hopefully.

Mark looked up over to the clock on the nightstand and shook his head. "Well, I'd really like to change, but I don't think there's enough time. So, I guess you'll have to fix the makeup."

"Mark, we'll make the time. So what if we're late?" insisted Donna.

"No. I couldn't let you do that. Not because of me. I'll just have to put up with this. I don't mind telling you, I'm scared shitless. Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Fisher," responded Mark.

"It's okay, Mark. Under the circumstances, you're entitled. Just don't make a habit of it, okay?" replied Donna's mom. "Okay, girls. I'll fix Mark's face while you get your things together. Let's get moving. We need to be on our way in five minutes."

Chapter 3