Part 1

Players: Capo De Matzo, counsel to Don Venuto. Don Venuto also known
as the Godfather; Mario Venuto, son of Don Venuto; Ms. Rosa Cappella,
professional dominatrix; Carol Evans, mother of Mark Evans; Mark Evans
aka Martha Evans; Helen Andrews owner of the Little Miss Muffin
Boutique; Ralph Summers, a friend of Mark, aka Robin; Steve Franks,
friend of Mark, aka Susan; Sandy Summers, Ralph's mother; Tracy
McCall, Mark's girlfriend. Jack Summers, friend of Mark, aka Janet.

Synopsis: "If you can't change your boy to be like other boys, then
simply change the other boys to be more like your boy!" Capo De Matzo
said to his Don in that low soft spoken gravely voice of his. His Don,
Don Venuto, nodded and laughed. Don Venuto laughed, because he was
about to make those boys teasing his son an offer that they couldn't
refuse.

**************

"I don't know how I'm going to handle this?" Don Venuto said to his
Capo and best friend.

"If you can't change your boy to be like other boys, then simply
change the other boys to be more like your boy!" Capo De Matzo said in
that low soft spoken gravely voice of his. His Don, Don Venuto, had
asked what to do about his son and, more importantly, the rumors about
his son from those other boys. And there was that teasing as well.

You might not want to say it out loud but Don Venuto's son Mario was a
sissy. A effeminato giovinetto or effeminate boy with little if any
masculine qualities. A piccolo ragazza, or little girl, according to
one of the Don's soldiers who whispered that only once. A comment to
someone else along with a snicker. A comment made a day before that
soldier was found floating face down near pier seven by the edge of
the bridge. At least that was the rumor that started spreading around
among the locals and a few of those boys who teased Mario.

So the Don, as much as he loved his son and tried understanding him,
simply couldn't at first. What made it worse were the growing rumors
and the embarrassment those rumors were causing him. That was his
frustration and that was what drove the question he posed to his Capo
as they shared a glass of wine late into the night.

For Capo De Matzo there was an easy solution, as he answered:
"Semplice".

"Not so simple!" The Don answered.

"It is! You are Don Venuto! For the Don, many things are simple!" Capo
De Matzo said laughing as he lifted his glass and added, "Salutare!"

"Salute my friend. Now tell me how I can make this simple?" Don Venuto
asked.

"Compleanno partito!" Capo De Matzo said with a smile.

"A birthday party? You are not making any sense my friend!" Don Venuto
said smiling at the man smiling back. His friend was a wise man so the
Don knew he'd get an explanation.

"A little girl's birthday party but no girls! Just for the boys! For
all of the boys!" Capo De Matzo said laughing as he added, "Capire?"

"Caprie? No, I don't understand. A little girl's birthday party
without little girls doesn't make any sense?" Don Venuto said and then
paused... it was clear by the change in his face that he suddenly
understood as he added, "Si! Giovinetto come piccolo ragazza! Buono! Genio mio camerata!
Salutare!

"Yes! Boys as little girls? Good! You truly are a genius my friend...
Salute!"

"Salutare!" Capo De Matzo said as he lifted his glass with the Don's.

The five lieutenants stood quietly in front of the Don's desk. Their
Capo, De Matzo, had called them earlier that day simply saying to
each: "Casa! Venni! Volare! House! Come! Hurry!" It meant come to Don
Venuto's and don't stop on the way. None of those standing there knew
the woman sitting by the fireplace.

"This is Ms. Rosa Cappella, she specializes in little girl birthday
parties. She is helping me with a party and I want you and your men to
hand out the invitations when she gets them ready. I want those
invitation handed, in person, to every mother of every boy, that lives
in this neighborhood and goes to school with my son," Don Venuto said.

The men nodded. It didn't matter that some of them didn't understand
or that a few wondered over why, just that they did what they were
told to do. Their orders, like most orders from the Don, were to be
carried out and carry them out they would, and they were ordered to
make those boys an offer! An offer that none of them could refuse. The
five men smiled.

That was the story that would eventually spread around the school. No
one knew where that story came from but then again, it didn't matter.
There was a Godfather and he was not happy. That was the part everyone
understood. That was the part the boys understood that day they walked
home.

Carol Evans wiped her hands on the dish cloth before turning towards
the door. Her son Mark already coming down the hall was interrupted as
she said, "You go finish that math mister! I'll get the door."

"Mom!" Mark said freezing in his tracks but couldn't do so without
making his frustration known. Mark was in his room again, but against
the door trying desperately to hear what was said by whoever was at
the door. Mark was hoping for any reason to not finish his math.

"Mark!" Mark's mother Carol yelled.

"What?" Mark said happily given it was her now interrupting his math.

"Come in here!" Carol said sounding serious.

"What's up?" Mark asked then grew quiet at the look on his mother's
face. It was nearly white! Pale!

It made Mark pause and add, "Mom? What's the matter?"

"It's an invitation to a birthday party?" Mark's mother said.

"From whom?" Mark asked now seeing the pink envelop in her hand. Why
an invitation to a birthday party made her look like that seemed odd.

"It doesn't say from whom but clearly it's from Don Venuto! Those were
his men that delivered it." Carol said quietly as she sat hard on the
ottoman in front of his father's old chair. Everyone in that
neighborhood knew who the Don was now and most of his men, or at least
the types of men that might work for the Don.

"For who then? Me?" Mark asked.

"It's for you! That much those men delivering it made clear as well."
Carol said.

"But you don't know who's party it is then? Is it for his son?" Mark
asked growing curious over his mother's concern and that connection to
the Don.

"Honey, I'm not sure! Come here and sit!" Mark's mother said.

Mark didn't hesitate. He knew his mother's moods and this one she was
suddenly in scared him. Mark knew of the Don, the Don's son and the
rumors about that man the police fished out of the river a few days
ago.

"Mom, what's the matter?" Mark asked with real concern.
"Honey! This invitation is for you to go to a birthday party!" Carol
said.

"OK, so?" Mark added.

"So, it's a girl's birthday party but there won't be any girls there!"
Carol said.

"I don't get it?" Mark asked.

"Honey, those men said that it's a little girl's birthday party but
not, because it's a costume party and only for boys. All of the boys
in the neighborhood as a matter of fact and you'll all be going
dressed as girls. Little girls!" Carol said.

"What are you saying?" Mark asked suddenly very confused.

"Honey, have you been teasing this man Don Venuto's son?" Carol asked.

"Me? No! Honestly mom, I know better! I guess some of the boys do, but
not to his face since that man was found. Some of the guys, in fact,
said that's the reason that man ended up in the river," Mark said in a
panic. He hadn't teased Mario but he knew that some of the boys did.

"Why?" Mark said.

"Because that was the reason those men hinted at. Evidently the Don
has decided that all of the boys are going to be sissies for at least
one day and that's the reason for this little girl's birthday party.
You've got to go dressed as a little girl." Carol said.

"Not me!" Mark said flatly but knowing full well he didn't dare not
go. Not if he knew what was good for him and he had an image of that
man floating face down near the rocks by pier seven.

"You've got no choice. I don't have a choice!" Mark's mother said and
added almost in tears: "You must go and you're going dressed as a
little girl."

"Mom, what if this is a joke or something?" Mark said.

"And what if it isn't?" his mother noted.

"I'm going to call a couple of the guys!" Mark said.

"Use your cell phone to call your friends and see if they've got
invitations, and I'll call a couple of the moms," Mark's mother said.

It only took about twenty minutes to call most of the guys Mark knew
and what Mark discovered was they too had invitations. Mark's mother
also confirmed that, so far, every mother of every son had been given
their invitations personally and told the same thing.

Everyone was in a mild state of shock. Everyone had an invitation and
it was clear that everyone was going. Everyone was going because it
was also clear that anyone not going would, according to those men who
delivered those invitations would BE MISSED!

"What do we do now?" Mark asked looking at his mother when she hung up
the phone.

"Are you kidding? Honey, you're going to that party!" Carol asked.

Mark already knew that. Mark knew that when he'd hung up on Chuck
which was after he'd talked with Ralph, Stan and Jack. They too were
going and going as girls. They all were. There was no doubt about
that. What Mark was really asking was what he'd have to wear.

The phone rang again making Mark jump this time. He dreaded picking it
up but did.

"Mom! It's a Ms. Rosa Cappella? She says she needs to talk with you."
Mark said after picking up the phone just a short time later.

"She'll be here in a second," Mark said to the woman on the other end
of the line.

"Hello?" Mark's mother said taking up the phone Mark was still
holding. Mark stood nearby.

"Yes? Yes, I know, we got the invitation this afternoon. Yes, he's
going! Yes, he will be dressed. You're coordinating the party? I see.
Yes, I was going to shop for something. Well, I don't know what yet. I
suppose a dress obviously. No, I hadn't thought about it much. OK,
hold on and I'll get a pencil!" Mark's mother said motioning for Mark
to get her a pencil and paper.

"What's the name of it? OK, Little Miss Muffin Boutique. Muffin as in
the spider...? OK, I've got that. What? Why? No, I don't understand
that part at all. OK, this is now getting a bit ridiculous! Does he
have a choice? No, I didn't say no, of course he'll do it.

"Yes, I know who that man is but that doesn't give him the right to
push us around like that. I know you're not the one doing this, but
obviously you're taking orders from him. And the other boys! Are the
other boys going to be wearing the same things?

"So he's paying for it? No, I didn't know that. And I can get
everything there then? I suppose I have to right? I mean my son
doesn't have much choice in this obviously! Well, you can tell him for
me that I think he's being a bully! Good day to you to!" Mark's mother
said slamming the phone down.

"What?" Mark asked. He'd gotten some of the conversation but there
were a lot of gaps.

"That woman is coordinating the party. Evidently the Don is paying for
the things you and the other boys will be wearing! He's set up an
account at this place called the Little Miss Muffin Boutique. They are
supposed to have shoes, dresses and accessories." Mark's mother said
as she looked at the paper with the name and address on it.

"So we don't have to pay for any of it at least?" Mark said not sure
if that made a difference or not, but growing suspicious that it
wasn't all of it as his mother looked up. The look on her face
suggested it and made him add: "What?"

"Honey, according to that woman, the Don wants all of the boys to be
wearing panties as well as their little dresses," Carol said deciding
not to try and find a better way to say it.

"Panties? As in girl's panties? You've got to be kidding?" Mark said.

"I wish I was. I wish I could give that man a piece of my mind," Carol
said.

Mark fell back on the couch heavily. This was going from bad to worse.

"Panties?" Mark asked.

"We'll have to go tomorrow. The party is Saturday," Carol said as she
patted Mark on his knee.

"Panties?" Mark repeated.

"I'm afraid so," Carol said in a sympathetic voice.

Mark groaned.

They found the place but neither were prepared for what greeted them.
Little Miss Muffin boutique wasn't exactly a boutique. Not a quaint
little shop for girls as Carol had suspected but a full blown store
that made her wish, for a moment at least, that she had a girl. She
hid that part as she urged Mark past the door he'd opened for her.

"MOM!" Mark whispered as they slowed and stopped just inside the
store. A hint of what waited inside was in the windows and what was in
the windows were mannequins in dresses clearly meant for pageants.
Clearly for little girl pageants since those mannequins were little.
Pinks, lavenders, lace, bows and ruffles everywhere and everywhere
something girlish and feminine. There was nothing in that store for
boys.

Dresses upon dresses in racks that looked like they covered every
pastel color imagined and to the left, past the jewelry, and makeup
counters, lingerie that Mark only glanced at. To his right shoes and
in front of him, going all the way to the back, more dresses. Rows of
them as he stood frozen in place. This was not a clothing store for
girls, this was Mark's worst nightmare.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"I'm Mrs. Evans, Carol Evens. I'm here with my son Mark. I understand
we should have an account set up for us for a costume party?" Carol
said looking around the woman at the racks of dresses that were giving
her goose bumps. She could only imagine what it was doing to Mark.

"Of course! You'll be one of Ms. Rosa Cappella's boys then? Please,
follow me and I'll do a quick verification on the list I was given and
then guide you through our selections. I'm Helen. Helen Andrews, but
please call me Helen," Helen said.

"Thank you!" Carol said as she fell in behind the woman now walking
towards the back of the store. Mark didn't want to follow and the only
reason he did was to stay within the protection of his mother as those
girls already in the store began taking notice.
"Has there been any other boys in yet?" Carol asked.

"Actually we have one boy trying on dresses at this very moment and
two others were in earlier. This is going to be quite a costume party
I'm told. Imagine how wonderful it's going to be for these boys to get
to go through this sort of experience," Helen said.

"Imagine." Carol said as she added, "Can you tell me the name of the
boy already here?"

"Ralph Summers I believe. He's in changing room three. That's the
middle ones over there next to the mirrors." Helen said as she moved
behind the counter. She picked up a metal box, thumbed through the
cards, alphabetized, and found Mark under "M". Helen pulled the card
as she said: "Ah, here we are. Mark! Just let me initial this and then
we can look over your selections."

"Ralph! Here?" Mark asked.

"Seems so!" Mark's mother noted nodding over at the changing room.

Mark almost fainted dead away as his school mate appeared. There was
no mistaken Ralph as a boy but he was wearing a gathered ruffled lemon
yellow dress. What made it funny in a way was his regular boy style
black shoes and socks and the tee-shirt he still wore. What didn't
make it funny was that Mark saw himself doing that very same thing.

"Dresses first I suspect since everything will coordinate around the
dress." Helen said as she pulled a sewing tape measure from around her
neck as she added, "Let me get his shoulder, chest and waist
measurements for his size."

Mark held his arms at his side for the shoulder measurements then held
his arms out for his chest and waist.

"Size seven, remarkable," Helen said as she wrote that down on the
card with Mark's name on it.

"Remarkable?" Carol asked.

"Size seven is a delightful size. We have a fairly substantial
selection of dresses in size seven," Helen said.

"Oh joy!" Mark said sarcastically.

"Why don't we start with our pageant styles first then you can, if you
don't find something there, move to our bridal or formal sections."
Helen noted with a gesture of her hand.

"That would be great!" Carol said.

"MOM!" Mark said wishing she didn't sound so enthusiastic.

"Honey, relax! It's just being conversational." Carol said and added,
"Look you're not the first and definitely not the last and Ralph there
is also here so try and relax."

"Relax? Mom, we are buying a dress for me to wear to a birthday party!
Hello?" Mark said.

"I know! Can't be helped honey." Carol said fighting the smile she
felt creeping up on her.

In spite of Mark's dilemma she was beginning
to sense this as more fun than not.

"NO!" Mark whispered as they came up to a rack of dresses Mark didn't
even want to look at.

"Honey, there are no simple dresses in here! Look, we can spend time
looking here and finding something quickly or we can spend time
LOOKING AROUND." Carol said.

"NO! Let's just get something and go!" Mark said not wanting to stay
any longer than necessary. He saw Ralph and Ralph saw him. Both boys
dropped their eyes as Mark added, "Grab one quick and let's go!"

"These are our size sevens. We've got several styles with the ones on
the left our fullest. If it were me, I'd go with those only because he
can wear the bouffant slips and not the petticoats. The petticoats
tend to slip down when they play. I suspect they will be playing?"
Helen asked.

"To be honest, I'm not sure but the full slips do make sense," Carol
noted.

"Slips?" Mark said.

"All of our dresses are going to require a slip of one sort or another
and the color is going to dictate the panties," Helen said and added,
"Same with shoes if you don't go with the basic Mary Jane. We've got
those in a patent white and in black."

"Panties?" Mark whispered.

"All of our dresses come with costume designed panties," Helen said.

"MOM, I'm going to run away if you don't hurry!" Mark said in anguish.

"You'll do nothing of the sort. Now stop. You think this is easy for
me?" Carol said fighting back the smile that she was fighting
desperately to hide.

"You're not going to be wearing this stuff," Mark said.

"It could be worse!" Mark's mother said.

"How?" Mark asked.

"It's for a party. What if Don Venuto had decided you guys wear these
things to school or something?" Carol noted.

"That would be worse," Mark said.

"You even care which color?" Carol asked.

"Are you kidding?" Mark said.

"Didn't think so. OK, so let's go with pink, white and maybe yellow,"
Carol said.

"Three? Why three?" Mark asked in a panic as he watched Ralph being
turned by his mother in front of the mirror.

"OK, just the pink one then. This one!" Mark's mother said lifting a
pink confection from the rack.

"Excellent choice. That's one of our best," Helen said delighted.

"So what does this one need in the way of slips?" Mark's mother asked.

"Come one and I'll show you your choices," Helen said as she turned
towards the lingerie and added, "Our panties are near there as well."

Mark followed closely trying not to look at the girls now watching
this unfold. Some were watching in amazement at Ralph already. Mark
also tried not listening to the dress his mother carried as it rustled
loudly.

"All of these slips are styled for that particular dress!" Helen said
as they reached the lingerie. A girl and her mother looking through
panties in a large pastel lemon bin paused to wonder over the boy
following the woman holding a dress. The girl smiled oddly, the mother
simply watched as Helen added, "Ah, here we go, size seven!"

Mark's mom lifted the slip and it too joined the dress and the
rustling grew louder in Mark's ears. Ears that felt like they were on
fire around the edges as he flushed more. Why did the store have so
many girls in it he mused in anguish. Ralph was gone when Mark looked
and Mark looked because it was his turn to face that next humiliating
step.

"Ready?" Mark's mother asked.

"No!" Mark said.

"Would you rather wait a bit? Perhaps look around some?" Mark's mother
asked softly. Another girl over in a sea of white dresses under a
large gold cross was also looking at him.

"Can we do this some other time?" Mark asked.

"Sure? I mean we've got one more day to shop before the party. Honey,
you realize that another day isn't going to make this any easier or
change things." Mark's mother said.

"I know," Mark said softly with resignation in his voice.

"So?" Mark's mother asked.

"Fine!" Mark said and added, "You go first, I'll follow."

Mark was definitely the center of attention at far as the girls
shopping were concerned. At least till Ralph stepped out of the
changing room again, this time without his tee-shirt at least and this
time in a soft pastel green dress.

Mark and Ralph looked at each other like men condemned which only
changed a little when Steve walked into the store with his mother.

"Steve!" Ralph said to Mark nodding towards the direction of the front
of the store. Mark's back was to the doors but he used the mirror and
nodded. Safety in numbers Mark thought. Steve's face mirrored the
other two boys. Mark was suddenly glad he was at least this far and
clearly Ralph was just as glad.

"Hi Carol!" Ralph's mother said coming out of the changing room
holding the lemon yellow dress as she added, "Isn't this wild?"

"That's a word! This has got to be the most unusual day I've had in
recent memory," Carol said taking Sandy's hand.

"Ralph is a size eight!" Sandy said proudly.

"Seven for Mark," Carol said sounding as if she too was bragging.

"Really. How sweet this is." Sandy said before turning back to her son
Ralph as she added, "Mirror honey."

"Mom, this one fits!" Ralph said.

"Mirror!" Sandy said again pointing to the large mirror set against
the wall.

"Mom why do I need to try it on! Can't we just take this stuff home?"
Mark said impatiently. He wanted to get out of there. He didn't want
to wear the dress, not there, not in front of a growing audience of
girls and their mothers who were no longer looking on covertly.

"It's got to fit! Look honey, we've got to do this so just try hanging
on OK?" Mark's mother said as she transferred the slip to the arm
holding the dress so she could pat Mark's shoulder as she added,
"Besides, we've still got to get your shoes."

"Oh this is so wrong!" Mark said.

"I know honey! I just wish you boys hadn't teased that poor boy.
Perhaps this wouldn't have been necessary," Mark's mother said.

"I didn't, never did," Mark said sounding frustrated.

"Did you ever try and stop any of the other boys from teasing?" Mark's
mother asked.

"No?" Mark said.

"That might have made the difference. Oh well, that's water under the
bridge now. Come on and let's get this over with," Mark's mother said
nodding to Sandy who nodded back.

"I asked Ralph the same question. Seems to me that if only a couple of
them had stepped in just once this wouldn't be necessary now," Sandy
said.

"Brother's keeper!" Mark's mother said with resignation in her voice.

"Mom?" Mark said at the threshold of the changing room.

"Exactly!" Sandy said as she moved off with her son for those mirrors
while adding, "Do you like this one honey? I think I'd rather see you
in the puffy sleeves rather than straps."

Mark entered the soft bubble gum pink room and found himself
surrounded by more mirrors less the area on the door to hang the
dresses.

"Clothes!" Mark's mother said.

Mark started to undress... Slowly, painfully if you read his face as
his mother eased the slip from its hanger. It was strapped to the
satiny bodice that flowed easily to a grouping of petticoats as full
as the dress. The rustling never stopped Mark noted.

"Why can't they make this more quiet?" Mark asked as he stepped out of
his jeans.

"Well, for one thing this is taffeta honey and most taffetas rustle.
For another thing this is something we sort of enjoy. A kind of
spotlight if you will. Feeds a little into our senses when we're
feeling pretty." Mark's mother said smiling apologetically as she
added, "It's a girl thing."

Mark was silent as he lifted his tee shirt off laying it now with his
jeans.

"Life your arms honey." Mark's mother said as she gathered the slip.
It was the same sound as the trees in fall next to his window or when
he gathered them for the bag after raking the yard. Mark saw the tiny
bow in pink attached to the slips front just below the delicate lace
added to the edges. The fabric of the top shimmered in the light.

"Why so many layers?" Mark asked for want of something to keep his
mind off what was happening.

"One layer, the softest, rest against your legs so the tulle doesn't
tickle them. The middle layer is netting to give the slip body and
make the dress flair out and the top layer is silky smooth like it is
so the dress slids over it." Mark's mother said fighting that smile
again. Her hands were shaking slightly as she eased the slip over her
son's head.

Carol fought all sorts of urges, some of which to hug her son for the
sake of his anguish, some of it to hug her pretend daughter just for
the joy of it. That urge came on her as a thought as the slip fell
around him. This had to be the most delightful day she'd had in a long
time. Imagining what it would be like having a girl was being answered
in these seconds.

"How's if feel?" Mark's mother asked.

"Feel! It feels gross! How is it supposed to feel?" Mark said in anger
as the slip settled around him. That wasn't exactly true but he wasn't
going to admit to any of that.

"No honey, I mean fit? Is it tight or too loose?" Mark's mother asked.

"Fine... It fits me just fine!" Mark said in frustration as he pulled
his hands up. He'd lowered them and instantly they fell into the folds
of the slip. He didn't want to touch it. Yet, for a second, a very
brief moment he did. He had. He couldn't help himself but he wasn't
going there he decided.

"Dress!" Mark's mother said as she began setting the dress up for Mark
to wear. It buttoned down the back from the neck and like the slip,
there was more than one layer under the skirts. At least two at the
top. Mark wasn't sure.

"Is that the same stuff as the slip?" Mark asked simply because the
dress was also rustling. It was almost but the taffeta in a pink was
almost the same color as the room but covered in a blush organdy that
softened the sparkle of the dress. Under the skirt another layer of
taffeta his mother said so it would be just as slippery as the skirts
of his slip.

"I love these gathers!" Mark's mother said forgetting that Mark might
not. The dress was gathered in what was clearly more panels or gores
than necessary which was reason enough for the slip. The organza skirt
sitting on top of the taffeta skirt gathered a little bit more. The
satiny top ended in puffy sleeves that were edge in the same satiny
material but see though from the pit of the arm to that edging.
Extremely puffed his mother noted happily.

"Arms again!" Mark's mother said. Mark had ignored her remark about
those gathers. She could love every bit of that dress but not Mark,
Mark decided as he lifted his arms.

The puffed sleeves tugged at his elbows as they began clinging to his
upper arms. The dress itself fell past his face and onto the slip as
his mother fluffed it free to set on top. The weight of the dress
pressed Mark's slips against his legs as the nylon lining of the top
slid over the nylon of the slip. It suddenly dawned on Mark why they
were called slips and the dress moved easily over it.

"Do you guys really like this stuff?" Mark asked as the dress and slip
rustled loudly. Carol began fussing with his puffed sleeves so they
sat even. It was nearly a perfect fit and Carol swooned over the look
of it on her son. If he had long hair at the moment it would have been
nearly perfect.

"Of course! This is what being a girl is all about honey," Mark's
mother said ignoring how the words might sound to Mark.

"Do you... I mean do you get different when you wear the fancy stuff?"
Mark asked for no other reason than to ease his discomfort and another
urge flowing under that.

Mark couldn't help but acknowledge the feel of it at some level and
that came again when he moved a leg. The taffeta resting against the
skin above his knee registered the sensation and his knees, front and
back, did the same. There was also that movement over his chest and
back.

"Feminine! That's the word you're looking for honey and yes, we get
very girlish when we get to wear stuff like this. The prettier the
better for most of us. I don't suppose that's going to make any sense
for you though is it?" Mark's mother said.

"Do you think Don Venuto's son feels this the same way a girl does?"
Mark asked.

"Do you think he dresses like this?" Mark's mother asked.

"I don't know? I mean he kind of moves like a girl does. You know sort
of sissy or something," Mark said.

"He was born that way but it doesn't necessarily mean he is that way?"
Mark's mother said.

"Sissy?" Mark said.

"Being effeminate doesn't mean he wants to be a girl. It just means
he's effeminate. Not a fair word to use for a boy even if it seems
true. He might be more macho than you even," Mark's mother said.

"Not likely! Mom, he throws a ball like a girl does!" Mark said
remember gym class.

"That's just physical. Imagine you now, dressed like this. I mean
technically.... You being a boy wearing a dress makes you a sissy then
right?" Mark's mother said.

"But I'm not doing this because I like it?" Mark said.

"And what if he's not doing it because he likes it? What if he can't
help it?" Mark's mother asked.

"Not the same!" Mark said.

"Well, not exactly the same but then again, it is only in the senses.
I mean you now can't help the way you look either, right?" Mark's
mother asked.

"That's for sure," Mark said.

"And those girls out there looking at you. Made you uncomfortable
didn't it?" Mark's mother asked.

"Definitely," Mark said.

"So, in a way you're kind of sharing the same feelings that boy has
I'll bet. Only you don't have to do this every day and he does."
Mark's mother noted.

"That would be so tough!" Mark said.

"I'd say that's most likely true. Now turn around so I can button this
up." Mark's mother said smiling. Her son was catching on she mused.

"It fits!" Mark said not seeing the point of buttoning the dress.

"Not until it's closed around you honey," Mark's mother said as she
began closing the buttons.

Mark was silent standing there with his mother at his back. He was
facing the far mirror and avoiding the look of the dress that now hid
the slips under it. It flared past the distance of a doorway and Mark
wondered over that imagining moving around the living room and not
hitting anything sitting on tables.

"How do you move in these things?" Mark asked.

"Move?" Mark's mother asked as she reached the last button above
Mark's bottom.

"You know, how do you keep from hitting things?" Mark asked and added,
"with the skirt out like it is?"

"You get used to wearing these things and aware of the distance. Put
your arms down over your skirts," Mark's mother said.

"Why?" Mark asked standing there with his arms folded against his
chest.

"Going to show you a trick we girls learn," Mark's mother said.

Mark lowered his hands into the folds of his dress and didn't loose
the feeling that rose up in him as his fingers touched the organdy
that flowed over them.

"Now what?" Mark asked feeling uncomfortable over the feelings he had.

"When you are wearing a dress like this you can sort of feel how far
out it is with your hands. Notice how they are resting at an angle?
Sort of like walking with something wide in those hands so you know
pretty much where the edge is. Can you sense that?" Mark's mother
asked.

"Yes, sort of I guess," Mark said.

"Anyway, you get a feel for it after a time in these things," Mark's
mother noted with a smile.

"OK, so it fits!" Mark said glad to be past this part.

"Hold on, I need to tie the sash before you step out?" Mark's mother
said.