The days that followed almost seemed normal. Almost. Most everyone at school acted as though me dressing up for Sadie Hawkins Day wasn't that big a deal. The big problem were those jerks — like Todd and his running buddy, Joe — who wouldn't let up. I learned to endure their bullying and went on as best I could. That didn't make me like it any better. Occasionally they would get physical with me, and the humiliation was always unbearable.

"Hey, faggot, what's the hurry?" I was alone in the bathroom one day — or so I thought — and found myself confronted with the leering faces of my two tormentors. "You're not going to run out on us without saying anything, were you?"

"Um, hi, Todd ... Joe." I quickly dried my hands and picked up my books. "Well, see you later. I, uh ... I gotta go."

"What's the matter, fairy boy? We not good enough for you?" Todd gave me a quick punch to the stomach and then shoved me against the wall. "You liked us fine the other night." I remained doubled over for a few minutes, fighting to catch my breath, too terrified to stand up. When I finally did, I was shoved back against the wall. I remember clutching my books close to my chest to protect myself, just like I did when I was dressed as a girl.

Todd grunted. He looked at the way I was standing and laughed. "Cute. Just like a li'l fairy. Where's your lipstick and panties, faggot?"

Joe made a scary giggling sound. "Yeah, man. You looked really good the other day. Just like some pussy or something. You know, I think he is a pussy, that's what I think. Say it, faggot. Say you're a pussy!"

I wanted to say "No, you're the pussy!" and run off, but I thought better of it. Joe didn't take well to sarcasm and I'm pretty sure he could run faster than me. So far I'd just gotten a punch in the stomach. I didn't want my teeth knocked out, or worse ....

Impatient with my indecisiveness, Todd punched me again. This time I started crying, which got me a slap across the face, from Joe, I think. I thought for a moment about my mom and how much that felt like one of her slaps. Then I thought about what she'd think if she could see me right then. That's when I really started crying.

"Say it, crybaby. Say, 'I'm a pussy.' Say it or I'll let Joe take another whack at you."

The tall black kid flashed a toothy smile and cracked his knuckles. "I'm gonna slap me some fine fairy ass," he said with a scary laugh.

A chill went through my body. I don't think I was ever so frightened in my entire life as right then and there. "I'm ... I'm a ... puh- ..." I took a deep breath. "I'm a pussy ..."

Todd grinned. "Say it again. And say it like a girl. Real pretty like."

I glanced over at Joe and saw a light of amusement in his eyes. "I'm a pussy," I said in my best sing-song voice. I hated saying "that word." It was on my mom's forbidden list — I'd gotten my face slapped severely the one time she heard me say it — and having walked more than a few miles in high heels I understood why it was so distasteful. Right then, unfortunately, was not the time to discuss any of this.

"More, fairy boy! Keep on saying it ... and sound like you mean it!"

"I'm a pussy," I repeated, my voice girlishly husky and weak. "I'm a pussy .... I'm a pussy ... I'm a pussy ...."

I didn't bother my mom with my troubles at school, since things between us were complicated enough. As agreed upon, I'd still have to change clothes when I got in from school each day, and there was always a list of household chores for me to do. Mom kept the fire for putting me in precarious predicaments, insisting that I wear my dresses around the house, and some lipstick and kept my hair looking nice. Every once in a while she'd take me out for a dinner or movie and the occasional shopping trip, and we'd actually have a little bit of fun, despite the awkwardness of my predicament. The important thing was how happy she was acting, knowing that I wasn't going to run off and get into mischief. I was a different child than the one who graduated from eighth grade, she said. Nothing at all like the little redneck hooligan who used to cause her so much grief.

The one thing that really bothered me, however, was how Mom seemed quite taken with the relationship I'd developed with Kathy. She quizzed me regularly about her, asking me things like did I eat lunch with her, if we were going out again soon, did we hold hands, did we kiss, stuff like that. Of course, I was thrilled to have a regular girlfriend, especially one so beautiful and fun to be around as Kathy, but to have my mother so intimately involved in that relationship was unnerving. It was embarrassing to be asked so many questions, and Mom would never let up until I gave her the answers she wanted. Lying was out of the question — I'd learned to never do that again; believe me, I hated the taste of soap! — and so I ended up telling her all about everything that went on between the two of us, no matter how uncomfortable it made me.

I guess the worst came when I realized that Mom and Kathy were talking regularly on the telephone; there's no telling how many times Kathy would call and talk with my mother as much as she did with me. When I asked either of them what they'd been talking about, all I'd get was something along the lines of "None of your business," followed by a mischievous giggle. Sometimes I felt as though they were conspiring against me. And that made me extremely nervous.

Take, for example, the day I was invited over to study at Kathy's house. Mom was quick to say yes, which wasn't at all like her; usually she let me dangle until the last minute, very often to deny me permission and leaving me to face my friends with some lame made-up excuse. Imagine my surprise when she not only said I could go, but encouraged me to do so. Of course, she couldn't let me out of her sight without fussing at me for something ....

"I expect you to act like a proper gentlemen while you're there," I was warned. "I'll know if you aren't."

"Yes, ma'am," I said with a sigh.

"If you mess up I'll send 'Pamela' over next time. I'm sure your little girlfriend will just love that."

"Yes, ma'am."

Glad to be free from my mom's grasp for a while, I still wasn't out of the woods yet. I was a little apprehensive about visiting Kathy's folks, especially since the only time they'd ever seen me was in my "Pamela" clothes. Fortunately, Mr. Wade was still at work when I got there, and Stevie was spending the night with his grandmother. That left me to deal only with Kathy's mom.

"It's so nice to have one of Kat's little boyfriends visit with us," Mrs. Wade said when she saw me sitting at the dining room table. Kathy and I were going over notes for the big science test the next day. "I am a little disappointed, though. I was hoping 'Pamela' would come visit us again."

I sat there and blushed like crazy, which only made things worse. "Um, that was just a costume, Mrs. Wade. I don't wear that stuff anymore."

"Oh, really?" The way she raised that one eyebrow gave me the shivers. It was almost like talking to my mom. "That's too bad. You make a wonderful girl, doesn't he, Kat?"

Kathy nodded. "I love Pamela," she said with a mischievous grin. "Maybe she can come out and play later."

I shifted in my seat and made an ugly face.

"We'll see," I said doubtfully.

When we were done with our lessons Mrs. Wade invited us into the kitchen for a snack. Munching on (ugh!) carrot sticks and a diet coke, I tried to make myself invisible. Kathy's mom was nice enough, but the way she looked at me really made me nervous.

"Kathy, sweetie, remember, you've got a ...." — she cleared her throat — "a date tonight. You're supposed to leave in a couple of hours, and you've still got some chores to do."

"Oh, Mom, it's not a real date." Kathy sighed. She seemed to be trying to avoid looking at me. If I didn't know better, I'd have said she was embarrassed. "It's just a dinner for our youth group at church."

"Well, whatever you want to call it, Michael will be here at seven-thirty. That doesn't give you long to get your work done." Mrs. Wade glanced at me and rolled her eyes. "She's such a lazy girl sometimes."

I nodded my head, but my thoughts weren't on Kathy's household chore skills. The idea of my girlfriend going out with another guy (!!!!!), of course, that was what worried me. I'm sure you know what teenaged love is like; it really, really hurts when things don't go your way.

"Who's … um, who's Michael?" I asked cautiously.

Kathy rolled her eyes. "Oh, he's nobody. Just somebody from church. His dad is a friend of my dad. You wouldn't know him ... he's a junior."

See what I mean? Here I thought I was her boyfriend, her big hero ... the man of her dreams ... well, that's how I saw myself, anyhow. Finding out that there was another guy in her life — a high school junior, yet! — I suddenly felt very vulnerable. I mean, I was counting on being around her to make up for all the grief I was getting from my mom, and now ... well, how could I compete with some other guy ...? Especially when he was two years older than me? As hard as I tried not to, I wondered what he was like. It was too depressing ... for some reason I figured he wasn't going to show up for their date wearing lipstick and carrying a purse.

Kathy wasn't too happy right then, either; she was upset with her mom for bringing the whole thing up in front of me and she let her know it. "Mother, please, don't be rude! Gregory's here. I'll do my chores tomorrow."

Mrs. Wade's voice remained soft, but I could hear the tension "No, dear, they need to be done now. You're got laundry that needs to be done and your room is a disaster zone. All I've heard from you is 'I'll do it tomorrow, Mom, I'll do it tomorrow.' You either get on the stick and get it done right now, or you can just forget your little date. Do you understand me?"

There, she said that word again. So it was a date! My stomach felt sour as I tried imagining Kathy out with this guy. I thought I was going to start crying right there on the spot.

"Mom! Not now ... Really, can't all this wait 'til Greg goes home?"

Kathy's mom gave her a stern look. "Sweetie, you've been putting this off since the weekend, and if you don't do them now they won't ever get done. And don't fuss at me. If you'd done like you promised you wouldn't be in this mess." Mrs. Wade glanced over at me and smiled. "Maybe you can get Gregory to help you. He's such a gentleman, I imagine he wouldn't mind helping out a little bit. Would you, darling?"

Kathy gave me that pitiful puppy dog look. "Oh, Greg, will you? It'll just take a little while, I promise. I'll be so grateful if you do."

"Well, I, uh ...," I shuffled my feet. This was really awkward. "I ... I guess so. If you really need the help."

She smiled. "Fantastic! Here's what we can do. I need to freshen up and change clothes for my date ... uh, I mean, my thing tonight. Why don't you get Mom to show you how to fix some spaghetti sauce ..." — I gave her a funny look — "Oh, that's for the church dinner tonight. I was hoping to bring either cokes or chips, but instead I got stuck with having to bring something hot."

"Oh," I said, not quite sure what I was supposed to say.

Kathy gave me one of those wonderful smiles, the kind that made me tingle all over. "Oh, don't worry, it's real easy, sweetie. You just brown some ground beef in a pan, and mix it up with a jar of sauce and let it simmer for a little while. Nothing to it. Even a boy could do it."

I sighed. "I guess so." I didn't dare say how my mom taught me how to make spaghetti sauce from scratch. I mean, it wasn't exactly the kind of thing I wanted to be known for. I rolled my eyes. This wasn't turning out the way I expected at all.

"Thanks! After you get that started we can work together picking up my room and toss a load or two in the laundry."

Oh, that sounds just great! I thought dejectedly.

A few minutes later I was put to work. A jar of sauce was produced, along with a package of ground beef and a suitable pan. So was a frilly apron. I remember thinking how it looked just like the one hanging on our kitchen door back home. The look on Mrs. Wade's face sent a chill through my soul as she held the demeaning garment out to me.

"Here, sweetie, you might want to put this on. You don't want to get your good clothes messy, do you?"

"Um, no thanks. I'm fine."

Mrs. Wade cocked an eyebrow and nodded. "Oh, I know, it's a little girly, I suppose, but that shouldn't bother someone like you."

I cleared my throat. "Someone like you?" What did she mean by that?

"I'd really rather not," I said, my voice hoarse with emotion. I made up my mind and I wasn't going to back down. I mean, I was a high school freshman, right? Today I was all boy!

The smiling woman shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, it's up to you, sweetie. I just hate to see that cute outfit get spattered with tomato sauce."

I grinned and nodded. My "cute outfit" consisted of a blue sport shirt, a pair of white jeans and a pair of matching white sneakers. For obvious reasons I loved those jeans and I adored my sneakers. I wore them every chance I could, even if it meant staying after school on extra projects and stuff. Anything to keep from having to put on those crazy outfits my mom made me wear at home. Having real pockets with real guy stuff in them and a decent zipper in the front and a pair of heavy shoes on my feet was important to me; they made me feel more like the teenaged boy I worked so hard to be, a far cry from the simpering "girl" that did laundry and collected lipsticks under my mother's watchful eye. My confidence away from home had grown such that I'd even started wearing jockeys under my school clothes instead of the regulation girdle, taking a chance on Mom's recent good will.

I looked at the offending apron and cringed. "Thanks anyway, Mrs. Wade. I'll be careful." I took the can and opened it up. This won't be so bad, I remember thinking.

I was wrong, of course. To this day, more than thirty years later, I'm not sure if it was an accident or not, but I have my suspicions. All I know is that one minute I was fine. I was standing next to Kathy's mom and watching as she lifted the lid from the pot of sauce; suddenly there was a loud "CLANG!" and my pants were soaking wet and my skin was burning.

Mrs. Wade was horrified! She shoved me away from the stove but it was too late. I was in the middle of a disaster!

"Oh, gosh, Greg, sweetie ...!!! I'm so sorry ... it just slipped out of my hands. Here, you better get out of those pants ... that sauce will stain them ... and your shirt, too. They'll both be ruined. I am so, so sorry ...."

I didn't quite scream like a girl, but I did holler a lot when the hot grease spattered on me. It took all I had to keep from crying as I tried to figure out what to do next.

I needn't have bothered. I remember fingers tugging at my belt, my clothes being loosened, and then standing in the kitchen in nothing but my jockey briefs and socks. Things happened so quickly I couldn't stop them. It was like being in some horrible dream ... not unlike the ones I'd been having lately, come to think of it.

Thinking that I'd been burned by the grease and sauce, Mrs. Wade wrapped a wet rag around some ice and applied it to where my legs looked the most red. It turned out that I wasn't at all burned, just a little singed. While she rinsed my shirt and slacks out in the kitchen sink I went to the bathroom to wash my face, arms and legs. Thank goodness Kathy wasn't anywhere to be seen. I felt pretty dumb walking through her house in my underwear like that, but considering the situation, what choice did I have?

I'd just finished and was hanging up my washcloth when Mrs. Wade knocked at the door.

"Greg, dear, I am so sorry. I don't know what happened, but that darned lid just slipped out of my hand. Are you all right? You didn't get any of that hot grease in your eyes did you?"

"No, ma'am, I'm all right." I fidgeted. Kathy's mom was an imposing figure, even more so than my own mom. I had always felt uncomfortable around her, and now, standing before her in my skimpy jockeys made the situation even more awkward.

"Good. I'm glad."

Her smile was kind of crooked as she put her hand on my naked shoulder. It took me a second to realize that her eyes were locked on my swollen breasts. Glancing down, I realized that they didn't look much like anything a "normal" boy would have, and I crossed my arms in front and shivered like I was freezing. I felt like a fly caught in a spider's web.

Mrs. Wade grinned. "Don't be so self conscious, sweetie. You're no different than anybody else in this family. It's not like I haven't seen a naked boy before, you know. Oh, look, that sauce even soaked through and ruined your undies."

I glanced down. Darn it! She was right. My briefs were tinged with orange stain where the sauce had come through. I blushed as she slipped a finger in behind the elastic waistband, pulled it out quite a ways and gave it a hard snap! The laugh she gave reminded me a lot of her daughter.

"We need to hurry up and put them in to soak, too. Here, come with me. I think I've got something to fit you."

A few minutes later I had to make a strange decision. Mrs. Wade handed me a bundle of clothing. "See if any of these fit. We can't have you running around with your bare bottom hanging out."

I looked around. We were standing in the hallway outside the master bedroom. Kathy's mom made no move to show me to a more private place; worse yet, she didn't act like she was going to leave, either.

"Right here? Right now?"

"Don't be such a fuddy-duddy. There are two males in our family. Don't you think Kathy and I have seen either one of them in their birthday suits? Trust me, honey, you won't be the first boy who's showed their little butt in this house."

The tone of voice Mrs. Wade used on me was similar to the way she'd talked to her son the first time I met them; I suddenly felt very sorry for myself.

"Well?" The smiling woman waited patiently. It was with a great and unbearable reluctance that I slipped out of my stained jockeys and handed them to the smiling woman. It felt so weird, standing in front of her, completely naked like that; my heart raced and my face burned, I was so ashamed. It was like I was a little child waiting for permission to take a bath or something. I remember trying to decide whether to cover my breasts or my privates with my hands. I failed miserably at doing either.

Mrs. Wade gave me the hand full of clothes and I held up each item, one at a time. I couldn't believe it! There were two pairs of jockey shorts, one a boy's and the other a man's. There was also a pair of plain white girl's panties.

"You can try on Stephen's undies, if you want, along with a pair of his daddy's," Mrs. Wade said, her eyes locked on mine. "But I doubt any of those would fit. That's why I brought some of Kat's" — the smirk on her face made me wince with pain — "just in case."

I couldn't believe my ears or my eyes. "I, uh ... well ... I ...," I stammered. Things were going downhill fast.

Oh, great! What a choice! Stephen's jockeys, all decorated with comic book superheroes, were obviously much too small, and Mr. Wade's, well, his were just huge. That man must have weighed three hundred pounds, and I was supposed to try on his underwear? Even if they weren't so big, they looked just gross; all threadbare and worn, they had a yellowish pallor that made my skin crawl. I shivered to think I might have to wear those ugly things.

That left Kathy's panties. I studied them for a second and realized they'd be a perfect fit. Well, a little snug, but better than the alternatives. Except for the subtle lace panel and the little embroidered flowers in the front. Hey, waita minnit! I glanced at Mrs. Wade, who was watching me like a hawk. That did it! There was no way in heck I was gonna put on my girlfriend's underwear, especially with her mom looking on! I'm not that stupid! I didn't care if I had to wear a barrel around my waist, you know, like they do in the cartoons. Dropping them on the floor, I picked up Stephen's superhero undies and bent over ....

Well, to make a long story short, after much struggling and cursing, I got them on. Barely. It was almost as bad as when my mom made me wear a girdle. No, that's not true. They were worse! Actually, they were about four sizes too small and boy did they show it! The elastic cut into my legs and the waistband kept popping down and showing my crack. They were painful to wear, to say the least, and I know they made me look just ridiculous. But I wouldn't have traded them for million dollars.

Mrs. Wade had me turn around and show her what I looked like. "You're sure you won't try on Kat's panties? I'm sure they'll make a better fit. Goodness gracious, Greg, sweetie, those little shorts are about to pop a seam."

"No thank you." I shifted uncomfortably in my borrowed briefs. "These are fine."

"Don't be silly. At least try these on. And don't give me that look! I mean, it's not like you never wore panties before."

I couldn't argue with her on that, I figured, no matter how bad it sounded.

There was also something else I didn't like the sound of. It was the word "panties." The way Mrs. Wade kept saying that stupid word, over and over again, made me feel so ashamed. She drew it out like it was the name of a close friend. From that moment on it was "PANT-TEASE" this, and " PANT-TEASE" that. Man, I hated the way she said that! I started to say something, I don't know what, but just as I started to open my mouth her eyebrow arched in a threatening manner, sending a fearful shiver through my body.

Well, needless to say, I ended up wearing the white panties. They were like I figured, a bit snug, but a heck of a lot more comfy than a pair of jockey shorts meant for a ten year old. I just wished they weren't so wispy thin and fragile; you could practically see through them and it felt like I wasn't wearing a darned thing! Worse yet, the little lace panel and yellow flowers stuck out in the front, drawing attention to my boyish member. I was mortified!

"That's so much better, don't you think? You won't mind wearing a pair of Kathy's little "PANT-TEASE" for a little while, will you?" Mrs. Wade asked. Rather than wait for an answer, she snatched up the underwear I'd tossed aside and put them away in one of the bedrooms. She then headed toward the stairwell.

"Gregory, please, be a dear, if you would, and come help me downstairs for a moment before we get you dressed. The floor's still covered with sauce and needs to be cleaned up. I thought you wouldn't mind helping me for a minute."

"But, Mrs. Wade," I looked down at my nearly nude body. "I ... I c-can't go downstairs ... not like this!"

"Oh, don't worry. There's nobody down there but me. It'll just take a second, then we'll see if we can find something else for you to wear." She smiled. "We don't want to mess up another set of clothes, do we?"

I hesitated. Surely she wasn't serious ... I mean, come on!

"Please, sweetie? Nobody will know, I promise."

I could see where Kathy got that little pouty smile from. With a huge sigh I nodded my head. Sure, why not? I thought ruefully. It can't get much worse than it already is ....

I was wrong.

It was just a few minutes later that I was down on all fours scrubbing the kitchen floor with a rag and a sponge and a bucket of water, still in my borrowed underwear, mind you. Talk about humiliating! Mrs. Wade said I was a good helper, but I felt more like the court jester. I mean, crawling around in a stranger's kitchen in nothing but a pair of panties ... GEEZ! What was I thinking???

The floor was such a gross mess, it took a lot longer than I thought, between the grease, tomatoes and ground beef. I was still at it when Kathy showed up. Fresh from the shower, she was wrapped in a quilted housecoat, her hair up in a towel, looking very grownup. Like an idiot, I tried covering myself with my hands, but with a tomato sauce-soaked sponge in one hand and that nasty rag in the other it was a hopeless cause; I just gave up and kept what I was doing while she looked me over carefully and grinned.

"Is that a pair of my panties you're wearing, Gregory? You silly ... I didn't know we were the same size. Cute bottom!"

There was that word again. Kathy, of course, pronounced it just like her mother did: PANT-TEASE. It was going to be a long evening.

Mrs. Wade came to my rescue ... sort of. It was her fault I was in this mess, but I think she was kind of enjoying it. "Now, don't tease the poor thing. He's had hard enough time with me spilling spaghetti sauce on him and all."

"Oh, Mother, I won't tease him. Not too much," my girlfriend said with a giggle. I winced as she playfully snapped my waistband. My face and ears were so hot I'm surprised I hadn't burst into flames.

"Oh, Greg, sweetie, don't mind her," Mrs. Wade said. "I think you're doing great. Don't let her tease you like that. It's not like she hasn't seen boys in their underwear before."

"Well, not in pant-tease as pretty as that!" Kathy squealed with delight.

I felt dizzy. Stupid panties! Why me ...?

"Can I get some pants on now ...?" I asked weakly.

Unfortunately, before I could get an answer, mother and daughter started talking amongst themselves, something about the dress Kathy had in her hand. It was like I wasn't even there. That didn't make me feel much better about myself, but at least for a few minutes I wasn't the center of attention.

"Please, Mother? I've got to wear this tonight, I've just got to. Won't you iron it? It'll just take a couple of minutes. I still have to get my hair and makeup done."

"Absolutely not! You should have put it in the dry cleaning hamper like I told you. With those pleats and creases, it takes forever to do a dress like that. You'll have to wear something else because I have my own chores to do."

"But, Mother!"

"Don't 'mother' me. You could have done that earlier, but you chose not to. You should have thought all this over before inviting company over to visit."

"That doesn't help me now. Michael's going to be here soon and I'm not ready."

Kathy looked like she was going to cry. I remember kneeling half naked there on the floor and thinking how unfair her mom was being. You would have thought I had enough problems of my own, but it really hurt me to see her like that. I guess that's why I had to go and open up my big mouth.

"Um, K- ... Kathy? I ... I know how to iron." I don't know why I said anything. Just chalk it up to being an idiot, I guess.

"You do? Really?" My girlfriend's eyes lit up. I could have told her I'd pitched a no-hitter and she would have been no more impressed. "Could you do my dress?"

"Sure. I guess." I shrugged. "I do my ... um, my mom's. At home, I mean. All the time."

Kathy looked so happy I thought she would bust. I got to my feet and washed my hands in the sink. When I was done she handed me the wadded up dress and gave me a smile that made me warm all over. For a moment I forgot my ridiculous situation, believe it or not. "You are so sweet, Greg. I really mean it. Most boys can't even spell 'iron.' But you're different. You're the absolute best! I don't know what I'd do without you!"

Standing there like a lump on a log, I blushed like crazy. "Oh, sure. Happy to do it." I looked down at the garment in my hands. I remember thinking how I would have ironed a hundred dresses just like it, if I thought it would have made her just as happy.

I then glanced over and saw Mrs. Wade smiling at me. The gleam in her eyes brought me back down to earth.

It took a little while to get the ironing done, longer than I expected. Well, actually, it felt like an eternity, considering how I STILL DIDN'T HAVE ANY PANTS ON!!! Other than that things were just fine. That stupid dress had a hundred pleats in it, and I had to take extra care to get them done just right. The tricks I learned under my mom's tutelage proved handy, resulting in a professional job so impressive that it got me additional requests from Mrs. Wade; the next thing I knew a basket full of wrinkled clothes was set at my feet, skirts, blouses, dresses and slips. All that, plus a promise of more to come.

"You don't mind, do you, sweetie?" she said. Her words were pleasant enough, but the tone of her voice said "You don't have any choice, sissy-boy!" "You are such a darling! I can't get the children in this house to do anything!"

I found that hard to believe.

I was still plugging away when Kathy came downstairs in her shoes and slip and put on the dress I'd just done for her.

"Wow, this looks great, Greg! Where did you learn to do this? It looks better than when the dry cleaners do it."

"Thanks," I mumbled shyly. Kathy looked so grown up, so beautiful in her freshly ironed outfit and high heels. Seeing her like that triggered a need for me to take stock in myself; standing there in my borrowed panties and nothing else, I felt so very vulnerable ... and so very stupid.

"Did you see this, Mom? Doesn't it look good? Having Greg around is like having my own personal maid," she said with a grin. "You can't get any luckier than that!"

Mrs. Wade nodded. "He's going to make someone a wonderful wife someday."

Yeah, like I hadn't heard that before.

The kitchen echoed with giggles. Being teased like that in front of my girlfriend certainly didn't make me feel any better. I realized that this little game had gone much, much too far, a lot further than I'd thought it ever would have. I looked at the pile of clothes that needed to be ironed and I thought about how long it was going to take to get them all done. I gotta get out of here! I thought desperately.

I started to ask if my clothes were ready when for the umpteenth time Mrs. Wade interrupted.

"Kathy, before you go, did you get your room picked up like I asked? The bed needs changing and that pile of clothes has been on the floor for almost a week now."

"Not yet, Mom."

Mrs. Wade wasn't pleased. "Sweetie, you heard what I said a little while ago. Either get it done or just plan on staying home."

Kathy sighed. I could tell she was frustrated. Who wasn't? I mean, it wasn't like I didn't have problems of my own. I fidgeted as she glanced at her watch, and then turned toward me. A hole formed in the pit of my stomach.

"It's getting late ... so I was wondering ... maybe Greg will help me out. Will you, sweetheart? Won't you? Just this once?"

Shuffling around a bit more under her gaze, I crossed one arm over my bare chest and used my free hand cover the little bump in the front of my panties. My whole body was burning like I had a fever. Couldn't she see what an awful spot I was in? I found myself wishing I hadn't even gotten up that morning. Still, it was awful hard to ignore that pitiful face.

"I ... I guess ... I guess I can help ... a little ... I guess...," I said softly. I'd have rather jumped out the window, but I was too much of a coward to do even that.

Mrs. Wade spoke up, surprisingly. She shook her finger at me, but her words were meant for her daughter. "Don't let her take advantage of you, Gregory. You do this and she'll just treat you like hired help. That girl needs to take responsibility for herself. Don't let her turn you into her little maid."

I didn't like the sound of all that maid talk; it reminded me too much of how my mom treated me. At the same time I tried to act like it wasn't that big a deal. Kathy wanted me to do something for her, and that was important to me. "It's okay. Really, I don't mind. I just wish I had some pants on."

Kathy was so excited to hear me agree that she promptly ignored my request. Instead, she jumped up and down like a big ol' kangaroo, hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, Greg, you are the best! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

My girlfriend scampered back upstairs to finish getting ready for her date while I shivered in my borrowed panties and grinned a stupid, helpless grin.

Before I got started on this next batch of chores Mrs. Wade had enough courtesy to try and put an end to my embarrassment. The key word being "try." A pair of Kathy's jeans were produced and I gratefully pulled them on ... only to find that they didn't fit. It turned out that while she was slightly taller than me, I had the bigger butt; I couldn't even get the stupid things up over my hips, much less try and zip them up. A pair of shorts proved to be equally useless. We didn't even bother with any of Stephen's or his dad's.

With no other options left to me, I wanted to put on the clothes I'd originally worn but was told that they were "still soaking."

"That nasty old grease and tomato sauce will permanently stain your nice clothes if we don't get it out right away," Mrs. Wade explained. "Don't worry about what you look like, sweetie. Nobody cares if you run around in your undies, do we, Kat?" Her daughter tossed me a coy look and shook her head. I could have sworn I heard a giggle. "See? Just be patient. We'll think of something."

"I just want some clothes on," I said quietly.

It was beginning to look like I was doomed to spending the rest of the afternoon running around in nothing but my borrowed pant-tease. Thank goodness, though, rather than leave me completely helpless, Mrs. Wade handed me a bundle of white cloth; it turned out to be the same frilly apron I'd refused to wear earlier. I held it up and winced as I saw what I was getting myself — literally! — into.

"This ought to do until your clothes are done," she said with a wink. "Oh, don't give me that pouty face. This isn't so bad. You look very sweet."

"Guys aren't supposed to be sweet," I muttered.

"Nonsense. That's the kind of talk that gets you in trouble. I would have thought your mother taught you that already." Her voice sounded like it did when she was fussing at Kathy a few minutes earlier. "Of course, if you'd done as I said and put that on earlier today, you wouldn't be in this mess, would you? You might want to iron it before you put it on, sweetie. No reason for it not to look pressed and neat."

I sighed. This is crazy! Why ME? The funny thing is, Mrs. Wade was right. Maybe, just maybe if I'd used my head and put on that dumb apron when she said I wouldn't have lost my pants. None of that made me feel any better, though. All I could do was nod and do as I was told. I mean, what else could I do? I sure couldn't run away!

Spreading the apron out on the ironing table, I could see that it was a rather simple design, made of white cotton with a belt around the waist and decorative ruffles along the edges. Even with a generous dose of spray starch applied, it didn't take a second for me to press. I held the freshly ironed garment up for a second and thought about what I should do next. It didn't seem that I had much choice. As I slipped it on and tied off the bow in the back, I realized this wasn't much different than some of the short sundresses my mom made me wear around the house; a single strap around the back of my neck held up the top, the puffy bodice pretty well covered my nude chest, and a full flared skirt wrapped around the tops of my legs and the back enough to conceal — just barely! — my panty-covered bottom. Imagine a fourteen year old boy wearing a little girl's play dress, that's what I looked like. I felt a familiar twitch under the cotton cloth as I realized what kind of huge sissy Mrs. Wade probably thought I was.

A frightening though suddenly occurred to me. I wonder if she treats Stevie this way? The thought of what he probably went through made my skin crawl. Poor kid.

"Well, hello, Pamela!" Mrs. Wade beamed as I turned around and revealed my new look. Like I said before, she made me kinda uncomfortable, the way she was always looking at me and all, but at least she acted nice. "Nice of you to join us. That apron looks just perfect on you ... it's almost like a little dress, don't you think?"

I nodded and mumbled something about wishing I had on pants instead. "I feel goofy."

"Well, no wonder. Why don't you slip out of those ugly old boy socks. There, that's better, don't you think?"

Of course it wasn't, but she wasn't going to buy that.

"How long am I going to have to wear this?" I plucked at the bodice and crossed my arms over my breasts. This was too much like a dress for me to even think about being comfortable. "Can't I at least have a shirt or something?"

Mrs. Wade gave me one of those winks, you know, like she knew something I didn't know. "Oh, don't be such a baby. What you're wearing now is no different than what you were wearing the first time I saw you."

Well, she was right about that. Not knowing what to say, I just pouted and shrugged. Man, this stinks! I thought to myself.

While Kathy's mom chattered on I reluctantly went back to my ironing. I prayed for a miracle to put me out of my misery, an earthquake, alien invasion, forest fire ... anything! Half an hour later she was still talking while I put the finishing touches on the last item. If I'd been left alone I probably would have cried, but Mrs. Wade kept me company the entire time as though nothing unusual was going on, and I'd grit my teeth and wish I was somewhere else.

When I was done Kathy's mom looked over my handiwork. "Everything looks just great, sweetie. I ought to have you come over and visit more often." The smiling woman chuckled. "Kathy's upstairs if you want to give her a hand on her room. Be careful, she'll work you like a slave if you let her."

After checking on my school clothes — "They are still soaking. Be patient, silly boy!" — I went up to Kathy's room. I felt a small wave of relief to find that she wasn't there. But man, what a mess! Mrs. Wade was right; I mean, it was it a disaster area! I never knew girls could be such slobs! The bed was unmade, used dishes were on the nightstand and dirty clothes were scattered everywhere. All that, plus there was a layer of dust on the shelves. It was almost as bad as my room used to be ... before my mom made me change my ways, I mean.

I was in the middle of making up the bed when my sort-of-girlfriend came into the room. Kathy had just finished with her makeup and she looked really gorgeous! I, on the other hand, looked like what I was; a boy doing girl's work. The expression on her face when she saw me making her bed was priceless, and when she realized what I was wearing, well, that was even better ... or worse, depending on your point of view.

"Hi, cutie! Wow, that old apron looks great on you! I always thought it was too frilly, but it looks just like something 'Pamela' would wear. It kind of makes you look like a real live maid! I love it!" She flipped up the back of the skirt and giggled. "Not every girl has such a cute boy to help out around the house, you know."

"Please, don't make fun ...," I whimpered softly. Compared to how beautiful she looked in her dress and makeup, I felt like such a little kid. Things just weren't working out right. "I couldn't help it. We couldn't find anything else for me to wear."

"Oh, that's all right, Sweetheart. You don't need anything else. I wish you dressed like that all the time. We could have so much fun together!"

FUN??? Doing what? I shuddered to think of the possibilities.

Instead of just standing there like a goof, I finished making the bed and straightening up as best I could. Anything to take my mind off my woes. Kathy watched me for the longest time, making the occasional teasing remark and going on incessantly about how great it was to have a housekeeper around to help out with her chores. All along I cussed myself for getting into such a painful situation.

At one point she must have figured out I was really uncomfortable. I remember her touching me on the shoulder and when I turned to see what she wanted, she had the biggest smile on her face.

"You are such a good friend, Greg, you know that? I mean, I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you're doing for me. Not only are you my best boy friend, but you're the perfect little boy maid, too!" I was kneeling at the foot of her bed gathering up the pile of soiled underthings I found there. With that stupid apron and all that lace and that puffy skirt, I probably looked like a maid; all I needed was one of those stupid lace hats and a feather duster. "If the other girls at school ever find out how good you are at this, they might try and steal you away from me!"

"What about this Mike guy? Is he just a friend?" I tried to sound indignant, but considering the circumstances that was pretty much a waste of time.

Kathy laughed. "Who, Michael? Oh, don't let him bother you, sweetheart. He's just some silly boy from church. He asked me to go to this dinner with him and Mom, well, she likes me to spend time with lots of people, you, know, to make friends? He's nothing special," she said with a sing-song voice. "Not like you."

I remember getting a kiss on the forehead and a pat on the cheek. Great, I lamented. Now I'm not her "boyfriend," I'm just her "boy friend!" Oh, and her maid, too! And what if she tells her friends about what I'm doing? I'll never be able to show my face in school again! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why can't things ever work out my way ...?

A few minutes later I bumped into Mrs. Wade in the upstairs bathroom. I had a small bundle of dirty clothes in my hand; I wondered what she thought about me doing her daughter's laundry, but she didn't even blink. Instead, she chatted away about what a great job I was doing while I sorted everything out. Out of habit I put the lingerie in the sink to soak while the jeans, shorts and other outerwear were set aside for the machine. The dresses and things made from more delicate material would be put in later in the "gentle" cycle. It wasn't until I was spot spraying the lingerie that I realized I might have gone too far.

"Such a good boy," Mrs. Wade said. "I wish I had the time to handwash my panties and bras, but there just aren't enough hours in the day. If I said it once I said it a dozen times, you're going to make someone a wonderful wife some day. Your mother is so very lucky to have a such a thoughtful helper!"

I looked down at the soapy underwear in my hand. Dammit! I'd gotten so carried away, I'd forgotten where I was. This is just great, I thought ruefully. She's talking to me and here I am trying to get the stain out of the crotch of these panties ... Geez, I think they're Kathy's, too! Man, now Mrs. Wade probably thinks I'm some kind of pervert or something!

"Here, sweetie, put some elbow grease in it." Kathy's mom acted as though this was something we did all the time. She added a bit more spot remover while I scrubbed harder on the offending stain. "Good, that's it. You'll never get them clean if you don't work at it."

As bizarre as all this seemed, I kept at it. What else could I do? Kathy's mom chattered on while I finished up the lingerie without saying a word, my ears and face burning hot with embarrassment. I guess I was hoping things would "be right" if I just kept my mouth shut.

Once the lingerie was done and hanging on the shower rod, I went downstairs and started the first load in the washing machine. I thought I'd get to take a break, but then I found another pile of ironing waiting for me. I started to say something, but when I saw Mrs. Wade holding out a diet coke for me, I just took it and forced myself to smile.

I was at it for an eternity, hating every minute of it. This wasn't at all what I'd planned when I came over to visit. Instead of doing boyfriend/girlfriend things like holding hands and maybe kissing a little bit with Kathy, I was doing her chores for her. Heck, I was doing everybody's chores for them, and looking like a complete fool in the process! Man, it was bad enough that I had to do this stuff at home, but doing it in someone else's house was pure torture. Funny thing ... Mrs. Wade warned me about Kathy working me hard, but she was the one who kept giving me all this stuff to do. For whatever reason I couldn't imagine. All I knew was that I didn't think I was ever going to get out of there.

I was alone in the kitchen washing dishes when Kathy came in and slipped her arms around my waist, which about gave me a heart attack. She thought that was hilarious. The next thing I knew, she was hugging me from behind, pressing her chest up against my bare back and kissing me along the back of the neck and in my ear. All of this was new to me and I melted under this combined assault on my senses. I also felt a dreadful tingling under my apron as an unwanted erection rose up out of nowhere. With my hands all soapy and stuff, I was pretty much helpless as she gently bit my earlobe and giggled.

"I see my little maid is still hard at work. Maybe you ought to come over more often. I can always find something for you to do, you know."

"Kathy, please, this is bad enough ...," I whined. My nose itched and my feet were cold and I didn't feel much like playing her silly game. Thank God Mrs. Wade wasn't around to watch ... at least I didn't think she was.

"Aren't you having fun? I know I am!" I could feel her pulling the bow at the back of my apron loose. "You know what else would be fun? How about if I undid your little dress here so I could admire your pretty PANT-TEASE? What would you say about that?"

"Kathy, no ...." I pulled my hands from the dishwater and looked around for a towel. I wanted to tie the sash back before anything happened ... but it was too late! I could feel her hands slip under the apron and around my waist. I froze as teasing fingers then slid under the elastic band of my panties. Correction, make that her panties!

"Or what if I wanted to see your bare bottom?" My entire body went rigid with fear as the flimsy underpants were pulled down over my hips and below my cheeks. I could feel cool air on my naked butt. Despite my fear, a tingling of pleasure shot through my hardened penis. I could feel it poking out against the front of my apron. I clenched my legs together to stop it, but it was in vain. This wasn't right ... not right at all!

I shivered as Kathy's warm breath tickled my ear. Imagine my shock as a long, wet tongue slipped inside, sending a surge of delight through my body. "Best yet, 'Pamela' ... what would you think if my mom saw you like this? Two girls hugging and kissing in the kitchen. What do you think she'd say about that?"

This was my worst nightmare coming true. I didn't know whether to scream, cry, runaway ... or all three at the same time. I cleared my throat and whispered "Please ... Kathy, no-o-o-o-o-o ...."

Kathy's voice suddenly took on a different tone. A deeper, more frightening voice whispered in my ear. "What are you going to do about this, pretty boy? Are you going to cry for me? Want me to call your mommy?"

A sharp SLAP!!! on my bare bottom punctuated the question. I was shocked. I mean, she hit me so hard it actually hurt!

"No, Kathy ... I want to ... OUCH!!!" I squirmed as a pair of sharp fingernails poked and then pinched my bare bottom. The next day I'd have a horrible bruise on my left cheek.

The sound of high heels click-clacking coming down the stairwell put an end to my girlfriend's little game. I sighed with relief as she pulled her hands from under my apron and backed away. I quickly tugged my underpants back up, forgetting that my hands were still covered with soap suds.

"See what you made me do," I complained. There's nothing I hate more than wet panties. Yuck!

Kathy giggled. "Relax, girlfriend ... I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. I was just having a little fun. You'd don't mind if I have a little fun with you, do you?"

The click-clacking stopped somewhere in the front of the house. Kathy stepped back behind me and pulled the back of my apron back together. I gasped for air as the sash was suddenly snapped so tight it felt like I was being cut in half.

"Owww, Kathy! Stop it, please? That's too tight! It really hurts bad!"

"Oh, don't be such a crybaby." I could feel her tying it off. I tried to reach around and undo it, or at least loosen it a bit, but I got my hands slapped. "Stop that. You'll mess up the bow. Oh, go ahead, but it won't do any good. I tied it in a knot."

I took a deep breath and tried to raise a fuss, but it didn't do much good. Boys in panties don't get taken very seriously, it seems. Kathy smiled as though everything was just fine.

"This isn't funny! How would you like it if somebody pulled on your underwear? What if somebody did this stuff to you?"

"Oh, hush! We were just having a little fun. Besides, you loved it and you know it. Don't lie to me. There's nothing a boy likes more than to have some girl put her hands down his pants.

Yeah, pants, not PANT-TEASE! I thought bitterly. Still, she had a point. It wasn't that bad. I just wished I could have done some touching of my own.

Before I could say or do anything else Kathy put her finger to her lips, warning me to be quiet. The click-clacking started up again, and then stopped. Her mom was in the bathroom down the hall; I could hear her singing and humming away as she did her business. Kathy produced a dish towel out of nowhere and handed it to me.

"Quick," she said, her face beaming with mischief, "Dry yourself off. We need to play a joke on my mom." She then tossed her purse on the kitchen table and giggled. "There's a lipstick and some mascara in there. There should be some eyeliner, too. If you sit down and put that on, I'll do your hair real quick. She'll be here in a few minutes ... hurry up!"

"I don't think this is a good idea," I said weakly.

"Oh, sure it is. It'll be neat. Don't worry about Mom saying anything bad or anything like that. She'll just think you're really creative when she sees just how quickly you turned from 'Greg' to 'Pamela.' Trust me, it'll be fun!" She gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "I wouldn't lie to you, sweetheart ... not about that ...."

By the time we were done I looked like a different person. My eyes were just huge and my lips shone brilliant vermilion. Thanks to Kathy my hair was brushed up and then pulled into a little bun tied with an elastic band atop my head; my bangs, of course, were combed out over my eyes, tickling my eyelashes each time I blinked. I could barely take my eyes from the little mirror in my hand — I looked just like I belonged in my little maid's apron, a lot more than I did in my baseball uniform, that's for sure!

"Perfect!" Kathy squealed. "Oh, Greg, you're so cute when you make yourself up like that! I wish you could come with us tonight. Nobody would ever guess who you really were! We could have so much fun!"

Looking down at my lace trimmed apron, I tugged the hem down around my legs and swallowed. "That's probably not a good idea," I whispered hoarsely.

Kathy grinned. "Well, it is a school night. Maybe next time," she said with a wink.

When Mrs. Wade came into the room a few minutes later she noticed the change in my appearance right away. I was mortified as she made the biggest fuss over me. She seemed sincere as she complimented me on what a good job I'd done on my makeup, especially my eyes. While Kathy took credit for my hair, she made sure her mom knew I'd done my mouth and eyes myself, which gave me mixed emotions. I knew I shouldn't have been looking so feminine, every fiber in my body told me that was a mistake, but I couldn't help feel a bit of pride ... just a little bit. I mean, with Kathy and Mrs. Wade praising me so much, it only seemed natural. I couldn't believe I actually liked being the center of so much positive attention.

"There's just one thing missing," the laughing woman commented. Kicking off her shoes, she motioned for me to slip them on. "We can't have our little maid running around barefoot. It wouldn't be proper."

I hesitated, of course, but Kathy pushed me into going through with it. They were high heels, of course, a hair too big, but close enough. I stepped into them with the expertise of a high school girl, shifted my weight ... and looked up to see two smiling faces.

If I thought Kathy and her mom liked me before, now they were gushing with compliments and praise as I click-clacked about in my new shoes. Mrs. Wade's enthusiasm was very hard to take as it seemed that I couldn't make a move without her saying something about how "cute" and "ladylike" I was. I could have run and hid, I suppose, but I forced myself to give up worrying about looking foolish and to instead accept the fact that I was bringing a little pleasure to some people who genuinely liked me.

"I've never seen a boy with such good looking legs," Mrs. Wade exclaimed. "Such a waste on a boy. If you were my child I'd make sure you showed them off every chance you got."

I sighed. I guess this isn't too bad, I thought to myself. I mean, it's all just for fun, right? Nobody's gonna make a big deal out of this later ... I hope.

I felt kinda silly when Kathy started pushing me to show off for her mom. "Oh, here, put on another coat of lipstick. Watch, Mother ... Greg does such a good job at it. He looks like such a girl the way he handles the lipstick tubes and does his lips. Don't you think he looks cute doing that?"

"He's a doll, all right." Mrs. Wade smirked one of those heart-wrenching smirks, the kind that said "Let's see you get out of this one, buddy-boy!"

I was putting on a third coat of lipstick when the doorbell rang. It took me a second to figure out what was going on, and when I did I about had a heart attack! A quick glance at the kitchen clock showed it was seven twenty-five. Dammit! I'd been so worried about being trapped in this mess I'd lost track of the time; it had been three-thirty when I'd arrived ... I'd been there, what ... four hours??? Oh, man, what's my mom going to say when I get home? Things weren't looking too good, that was for danged sure.

In the meantime I had more pressing problems. The last thing on earth I wanted was to meet Kathy's date — "Michael" — face to face. Especially in my stupid "maid" costume. I'm sure he'd be impressed to see another guy, especially a high school freshman, dressed like some sort of prissy fag, and I didn't think my heart could take the abuse that would follow. Following everybody into the living room, I started to dash for the stairs, but Mrs. Wade answered the door before I could make it. The front door opened just as I darted back into the kitchen. I thought I'd be safe there. WRONG! A mixture of male and female voices moved toward me and out of desperation I hid in the laundry room. I pulled the flimsy louvered door closed and moved as far into the closet-sized area as possible, praying desperately that I was out of the line of fire.

In the kitchen I could hear Kathy and her mom chatting away with someone, most definitely male, from the sound of his voice. To say that I was scared to death was a drastic understatement. I was TERRIFIED!!! At one point I thought they were standing right there at the door to the laundry room and I almost gave away everything by sobbing out loud. Imagine a fourteen year old boy hiding in a closet, dressed in panties and apron and high heels. Not a pretty sight, if you know what I mean. With Kathy and her mom and this "Michael" guy just a few feet away, I didn't dare move an inch for fear of giving myself away, especially with those click-clacking shoes on. I was scared to even breathe.

This went on forever! Each time I thought they were about to leave, either Kathy or Mrs. Wade would start the conversation up again, and I found myself succumbing to the most tedious torture you can imagine. The continual chit-chatting and laughing and lingering went on and on ... it just about drove me crazy! Caught in the laundry room like a mouse in a cage, I passed the time trying to think what I should say if I happened to be discovered. It didn't do any good; half naked and with my face and hair made up like a prom queen, nothing I could say would be good enough. This was almost as bad as those stupid dreams I was having.

After a while there were some noises that sounded like people were leaving. I remember hearing a deep boy's voice — almost a man's voice, actually — say "Later, Mrs. Wade." Kathy's mom replied with a lilting, "Have fun, children." The front door slammed and then it was over.

It wasn't but a few seconds later that the laundry room door was flung open. Mrs. Wade stood grinning at me.

"You can come out of the closet now, sweetie. They're gone." She nodded to the kitchen window. "If you hurry you can get a look at Kathy's date. I was wondering if you might recognize him from school."

I waited a moment, mulling over her suggestion. I didn't want to do it, but curiosity took hold. I minced over to the window and peeked out between the blinds. I couldn't believe I was doing this. Spying on my girlfriend, I mean. It turned out to be a pretty rotten idea, too, I guess. Kathy stepped off the porch, hand in hand with her date, laughing and chatting away like I didn't even exist. I recognized Michael, having seen him practicing with the high school football team. I couldn't help but cringe. He was huge, big enough to be a senior, a real jock type with a crew cut and a square jaw. My belly felt queasy as when I saw how Kathy's face lit up as he said something to her; in response she stood up on her tiptoes, closed her eyes and gave him a little-too-friendly kiss on the mouth. For an instant I could have sworn she looked right at me as she pulled away from the kiss and got into the car. Needless to say, this was one of the lowest points in my young life.

"Do you know him?" Mrs. Wade woke me from my self pity party. I suddenly felt extremely foolish, peeking through the blinds, still dressed in my frilly housekeeping clothes. Too ashamed to say anything, I nodded. She raised an eyebrow and returned the nod. "Well, are you about done?"

"I ... I guess so." I didn't feel much like talking right then. "I was just curious, that's all. "

"No, I mean with your chores. The upstairs bedroom looks pretty good, and the ironing is just fine. But it looks to me like you still have some dishes to do."

I glanced at the sink filled with plates. I figured with Kathy gone I didn't have any more chores to do. I guess I was wrong. "Yes, ma'am," I said with a sigh.

It took me a while to get the dishes finished up, mostly 'cause Mrs. Wade kept bugging me. I didn't feel like talking much, but she was pretty talkative, not to mention persistent. She bounced the conversation back and forth, throwing me off guard with the most embarrassing questions. I think it tickled her when I finally admitted that I was jealous of Michael's relationship with Kathy.

"Oh, don't you worry about Kat. She likes you ... a lot. I happen to know that for a fact. Kat likes boys who ... well, boys like you." She gave me one of those looks again. "Don't you fret about Michael ... he's is just part of some passing phase. He's not really her type, but she wants to date around a bit. You know how girls are. As flighty as butterflies."

The interrogation continued and I had to answer more questions, about how I got along with my mom and my dad and how I came to meet Kathy. Mrs. Wade didn't bat an eyelash when I confessed that it wasn't exactly my idea to attend Sadie Hawkins Day as a girl. She kept pressing me so hard I even let it out how my mom occasionally "encouraged" me to do girlish things around the house. That brought a peculiar smile to her face, along with a quiet "I figured it was something like that."

I just nodded and continued putting away dishes.

It was long past dark outside when I was finally finished with my chores. I stood by patiently as Mrs. Wade went over her mental list of things for me to do, and only when she said "Well, I guess you're done," did I feel any relief. A glance at the clock showed that I was probably going to catch hell from my mom.

Looking down at my frilly attire, I realized that I couldn't go home until I changed my clothes. I'd been trying to tell Mrs. Wade all evening that I needed my school clothes back, and they were still nowhere to be seen. At long last I found them, stuck in a washtub on the back porch, soaking in a nasty mixture of soap, water and tomato sauce.

Nearly in tears, I talked Mrs. Wade into calling my mom for me and explaining what happened. I was scared, of course, of what my mom would do when she found out what happened; I knew from experience that I wasn't too old for a whipping or a slap in the face ... or worse!

It turned out that the two women got along just great, and they chatted for nearly twenty minutes. I remember standing before Kathy's mom for what seemed like forever, impatiently waiting for the inevitable verdict. I didn't know which was worse ... looking like a fool or to keep having to wait for people to let me do what I needed to do.

At long last it was decided that Mrs. Wade would drive me home, and she sent me to wring out my sodden and stained clothes and put them in a bucket. When I asked her what I was going to wear in the car, to my horror she insisted that I should keep on my improvised "dress," saying that it didn't look "that bad."

"Keep the sash cinched tight like that and it'll stay together in the back, just like a cute skirt. If you're really careful when you get in and out of the car nobody will see your bottom. Oh, wipe that frown off your face! We're just going out to the car and then to your house. Nobody's going to see you, and if they do they won't care. With your face and hair like that you look just like one of Kat's cute little girlfriends. I don't know why you're so worried ... it's not like you haven't gone out in girly clothes before."

The one concession — if you want to call it that — was that it was so cold out that I got to wear a sweater over my "dress." Mrs. Wade got one from Kathy's room — a soft black one with pearl buttons — and when I slipped it on even I had to admit that I looked more like a girl than any boy I knew; actually, combined with my frilly apron, I thought it kind of made me look like a maid, just like in some movie or something. I wasn't going to say anything to my guardian, of course, especially since I felt a familiar tingling down between my legs again; for some reason just thinking about the absurdity of my situation made me warm all over. I could feel my cheeks get burning hot, and I had to think extra hard to keep my erection from poking out and showing through the front of my apron.

The ride home was swift and painless. I sat quietly while Mrs. Wade chattered on like she'd done the entire time I'd been with her, plucking at my borrowed sweater and praying that we didn't get a speeding ticket or have a wreck. In either case I was ready to die, just so I wouldn't have to face any of my friends while dressed like a total idiot.

My mother was waiting for us at the front door when we arrived home. You can imagine the smile on her face as I clip-clopped up the sidewalk and onto the porch. In one hand I held my school books and in the other the little pail with my dirty clothes. I was so ashamed I couldn't even look her in the face.

"Have a little accident, did we?" she said. I held up the bucket and shrugged. "And those are your favorite jeans, too, aren't they? Oh, well, too bad."

I sighed. I'd expected her to say something like that. It didn't make it any easier to hear, of course. At least she was being pleasant about the situation.

The rest of the evening was pure torture. Mrs. Wade was invited inside for a cup of coffee, which, of course, I was told to fetch. Mumbling and grumbling, I did as I was ordered. When I minced back into the living room with a tray bearing two cups and a pot the smiles I faced were as blinding as stage lights. I found myself sitting between the two women while Mrs. Wade recounted the evening's events. I'd wanted to go upstairs and go to bed, but Mom insisted.

"No, sit here with us for a bit. Mrs. Wade is telling some stories on you. You need to hear this."

"But, Mom ..." I whined.

"Oh, Gregory, don't be such a sour puss," Mrs. Wade said with a laugh. "He's been like that most of the evening, but I caught him smiling more than once. Don't let that ugly frown fool you, Margaret. I think your little sweetie likes playing the girl more than he lets on."

"I know. We went through this all last summer. He puts on a big front, but I know he loves it. You can tell it just by looking at him." I blushed as Mom examined my new costume. "This is definitely a new look for you, sweetie. Maybe we're on to something here. What do you think? We can get you all sorts of jobs as a maid after school. You can even do this next summer, too, and make some extra spending money. In fact," — I braced myself it — "this could be the start of a whole new career for 'Pamela.' Who needs college?"

For some reason I was the only one in the room who didn't think that was funny.

While my two captors chatted I reflected on the irony of my predicament. In a twisted sort of way it made sense. Mom always treated me like a maid, so it made sense that I become one. I mean, if she had her way, I'd get a job cleaning houses in the neighborhood and probably never leave home. She'd just love that. Not that I'd much like it, of course. I knew from experience that I wasn't expected to like anything she did to me. I just had to endure it ... no matter how demeaning or confusing it was. And judging from the smile on my mother's face, life was slowly but surely becoming a heck of a lot more complicated. More than I could even begin to imagine.