Diane; Caught In An Avalanche

It was a match I was supposed to win easily, against an up and coming female tennis player from a rival high school. She was definitely ready for me, knowing where my weaknesses were and having a ball exploring every one of them. After the first set which I barely won it was all downhill from there. She ran me from one side of the court to the other, on almost every volley so by the end of the set I was pooped. I have never played anyone like her before, so along with being winded I was extremely frustrated.

During the second set I started making mistakes, which allowed her to capitalize on almost every one of mine. I could see she was also not used to such a vigorous game as we played that day, but her determination was much stronger then mine. As I lost the second and third set, we met at the net and she actually hugged me, thanking me for such a great game. While I just scowled at her, my frustration coming to the forefront. I walked off the court, ashamed at my loss, fearing what it would do to my hopes of a pro tennis career. I soon would find out what the end result would be, nothing to do with my proposed career, but everything to do with my future.

It was the next day when things started to show up, in the school newspaper. Front page article about my loss and an editorial about my play and actions. It was my girlfriend Becky that pointed out the article to me, snickering as she did so. Becky had addressed me as Miss Walker as she handed me the newspaper, a giggle sneaking through her prim and proper smile as she used the greeting.

I looked at the picture thinking that it was one of my opponent yesterday. Wrong, it was one of mine but had been apparently photo shopped to make me look like a female. Some makeup on my face, earrings and a huge pink bow on my high ponytail. The shirt I was wearing had been changed from white to a light pink, making the picture all that more believable of a young woman. Luckily for me the picture ended at my waist, no telling what it would look like if it showed my shorts or legs. The text of the article was even more demeaning, as it listed all of my mistakes yesterday, emphasizing any action of mine that could be considered feminine.

I looked at Becky, wanting to believe that all of this was just an elaborate farce, but her look told me it was real. Then she opened the newspaper to an interior page, showing a picture of me in an evening dress, looking longingly at a mirror, my hair in curls on top of my head and lots more makeup than in the other picture, the lipstick and mascara the most notable. The caption underneath said Homecoming Queen?

I let out a loud moan, surely this had got to be some kind of weird punishment for something I have done, but for the life of me I could not figure out who I wronged to deserve treatment like this. I tried to get along with every one, my determination to do something with my tennis skills kept me occupied and not interacting with other students. If I wasn’t in classes I was on the court trying to perfect my skills.

Becky than asked me if I knew a Sheila, another loud groan left my mouth, so Becky pulled me to her and sat me down on a bench. I needed to get to class so I tried to leave, but Becky said forget the class we need to get to the bottom of this. The newspaper article has already made the rounds of almost everyone, the few not having picked up a copy given one by their friends. Essentially I was the only topic at the school today.

Sheila was one of my first girlfriends at junior college, we dated a couple of times but I didn’t feel anything with her, so I made excuses and we went our separate ways. I did hear from a few of her friends that she was upset because I dumped her, vowing to get even one day. I don’t remember me dumping her, I just ceased to be around her usual hangout spots, so we never saw each other much after that.

Becky read me a passage again from the article shaking her head as she did so. Top tennis hopeful beaten by a female, Although still in the semi-finals because of past wins, this reporter suggests that she start dressing as a female, the likelihood of needing a male in her life now seems to be a sure thing. Some strong male to take care of her. With her long hair and a figure that suggests that a woman exists underneath, a much better approach to her career than as a tennis star. I know of several males that are interested, I can make a few suggestions if she can’t catch a suitable one by herself.

Becky then told me one of the things I had done wrong. “You can’t leave a female like that, so I don’t blame her for her response. You should have talked it out suggesting that you still could be friends, but by just avoiding her she came to her own conclusions probably none of which were true. I have heard a few things about Sheila, if even part of them are true you have not heard the last of this, believe me.”

Becky did ask if I wanted to go shopping for my feminine wardrobe later at the mall, she would be glad to accompany me and make sure that I picked out things that would help attract a male, someone to take care of me. That statement followed by a severe case of giggling.

If the initial story had been disastrous the follow ups that appeared for the next few weeks were so over the top that I started hating to show up for school. Then the petitions appeared for having the school change my gender status to female. That in itself could be over looked, but the number of students that signed them left me speechless. Surely the school would not act on the petition, it was just a bunch of people suggesting to the school that I should be classified in the female gender and not as a male.

Sheila caught me between classes on Friday, two weeks later, the smirk on her face ear to ear as she handed me a certificate for a full body makeover at a salon, along with the school paperwork granting my wish to be considered a female for the rest of my schooling. She calmly walked away, muttering that I didn’t need to thank her, it was the least she could do for a fellow female.

Oh gawd, what do I do now? I almost threw up, my nerves suddenly raw and tense. I ditched my last classes, with tears starting to form I made my way out to my car and then headed home.

Somehow I made it home, as soon as I cleared the door I made a frantic phone call to Becky, my only words to her were help. She told me she would be right over, as I put down the receiver, my mother cleared her throat behind me and I slumped in the nearest chair, my head in my hands and about to start sobbing. I then noticed the pile of clothes that had been delivered to the house this morning. The clothing a result of her campaign for females to donate their unwanted clothing to me, so I could dress appropriately and catch my man, any man. It was suggested in the articles often that I needed all the help I could get, otherwise I will end up an old unmarried spinster.

I felt Mom’s arms around me, since she was sitting on the arm of the chair, the best she could do with how I was sitting. I cried and cried, not realizing how long the tears flowed. A second set of arms soon engulfed me, Becky now here for me. They pulled me to my feet and dragged me to a sofa, after moving all of my new wardrobe off to other chairs to make room for us. I was pulled tighter to them, and held tightly until I ran out of tears.

Becky was the first one to speak. You have some pretty clothes there, you are going to share with me aren’t you? I raised my head, staring at her. You have got to be kidding, my life is a disaster and you want to borrow my dresses. The crying started all over again, I had just referred to the pile of dresses as mine, surely the world has gone bonkers. Meanwhile Becky had been reading the school paperwork on my gender change. Her oh my god startled both Mom and me.

“Diane you have got bigger problems here, since you are officially a female, you have to adhere to the dress code for females, failure to do so will get you expelled from school. The note at the bottom of your gender change states since you have requested this change, the school will enforce the dress code to the full extent in your particular case.”

Attached to the gender change request was a copy of the dress code for females, parts of it highlighted. It seems parts of the dress code had not been enforced since it was enacted, but now all of these parts will suddenly apply to me. Surely things could not get worse than they were, but my karma was apparently setting at zero, as Becky read the highlighted dress code rules.

Dresses with hose and heels, although the heel height not to exceed three inches.

Hair styled properly for a young lady, no ponytails allowed.

Mascara and lipstick in cosmetics, pierced earrings although no more than one piercing in each ear.

Fingernails to be polished at all times, including toenails if exposed.

Ladylike behavior at all times except for Physical education class if enrolled.

I looked at Becky, the question I wanted answered written on my face. Sure enough on the copy of my changed schedule P.E. had been replaced with Home Ec.

A that moment the phone rang and Mom went to answer it. She returned a few moments later a huge smile on her face. In a calm and straight forward manner she mentioned that was Brad, wanting to know if Diane wanted to go out for ice cream tonight. This time when the name Diane was used I noticed, according to Becky my school records had been changed to Diane, since my gender is now female. You can’t have a female named Dan, at least as far as the school is concerned.

Oh gawd no, I ran to my room and threw myself on my bed sobbing hysterically. Becky did find me there later, laying next to me and cuddling me tight to her. I fell asleep in her arms, waking later when I had to go to the bathroom. As I came back to the bedroom, Becky was sitting on the edge of the bed, a smirk on her face. “Well did you sit to pee like a good girl?”

I started to tear up but Becky grabbed a hold of my shoulders and shook me till I was facing her, her hands now holding my head so that I had to look in her eyes. “This is the world you are going to have to live in for awhile, so face the obvious facts and lets get on with life. She leaned in and planted an erotic kiss on my lips, then pulled back and took something out of her purse. I felt the lipstick on my lips as she carefully applied it. Then she leaned in again, her lips touching mine in anticipation. The kiss was so good, our lips sharing the lipstick.

I have never felt anything so erotic in my life, as she tried to pull away I followed her lips wanting more. She gave in and attacked my lips once more. As she had to pull away to get another breath, her smirk had returned. “Well Miss Walker that was some kiss, I am not sure whether you will need a male to take care of you, but you just try and leave me. I guess I am now a lesbian, proud of it too. You are mine, every square inch of your soon to be feminine body is mine, all mine.

Her comment caused me to remember the gift certificate for the body makeover, digging in my notebook where I had placed it, I found it and showed it to Becky. She read what it entailed, then squealed in delight as she grabbed her cell phone and called the salon for an appointment. I reached for her phone, trying to take it away from her, not wanting anything to do with a body makeover. Becky evaded me running down the stairs and out on the patio. I followed her but was way laid by my own Mother, holding me and keeping me from going out to her. I was hugged, and relaxed into the hug, all of this just too much for my feeble mind to handle. Tears sprouted again, gawd I am acting like a female already, crying like there is no tomorrow, but still dressed in male clothes and with no makeup on. Well, there was the lipstick, although it was more than slightly smeared.

Becky came back in, a huge smile on her face, then whispered something in my Mom’s ear, then grabbed my hand and led me out to her car. I tried to resist, but she easily got me into her car. Before I could get back out she was in the driver’s seat and was backing the car out of the driveway. I let out a huge sigh, and wilted in my seat. I guess there is no way I am going to avoid what is coming. Sheila has me cornered into this scenario, and Becky is having way too much fun seeing that I am transformed into her lesbian lover. I swear I will never play another game of tennis for the rest of my life, this last debacle pretty much ending any chance of me returning to a normal male life, much less a career in that sport.

Becky stopped the car right outside the salon door, ran around to help me out of the car and dragged me inside. I had pretty much given up trying to resist, trapped in so many ways, maybe things will turn out alright after all. Gawd I am now delusional too, I am sure things will get only worse, my trip down the slippery slope now gaining speed. Becky made me follow the technician to where she will perform my makeover, helped me get undressed, then kissed me, grabbed my clothes and told me to be good.

“I will be back later Miss Walker to get you home and seen to.”

With that she was out the door, my one chance to escape now gone. I am sure I will not make it far naked and without ID or money. Another large sigh, I wonder if I will ever be able to return to my old life, at the moment that seems very unlikely.

I was helped up onto a table, then coated in a cream that will remove all of my body hair. Junior was included, even though he gets excited when a cream is rubbed on him, today there was no reaction what so ever. I think he realized like myself that his existence is very limited. Once the front side was denuded I was turned over and the back side received the same treatment. I just laid there, each step toward being a female in looks seeming to be unavoidable.

My feet were placed in stirrups, and spread wide as junior was glued to my groin, then covered with a very realistic looking vagina. Just like that I was no longer a member of the male gender. A single tear ran down my cheek, and another sigh escaped my mouth. Now a very feminine slit framed by two puffy lips resided where once I had a male organ. I guess Becky’s new lesbian lover is here to stay.

My lack of breasts were addressed next, a machine was wheeled in and two cups were glued to my chest right above my nipples. Hoses were hooked up to the cups and the machine was turned on, as some of my tissue slipped into the cups as a result of the suction of the pump. I doubted breasts created that way would go away easily, so my sentence as a female now seems long term.

My hair washed and conditioned then put in curlers. While my hair was drying my nails were worked on, ten long elegant nails coated in a pale pink polish was the end result. Of course, toenails to match.

Makeup next, nothing spared as my facial image was now feminine. Ears pierced, then two pair of earrings inserted in the holes. The machine that was sucking breasts from my chest finally turned off leaving two significant titties on my chest. I shook my head, this had got to be some weird dream, but my new appendages bobbing up and down as I tried to breathe kind of proved that it was not a dream.

Next came the clothes, bra, panties, a slip and a gorgeous dress, again in a pale pink. My hair was removed from the curlers and lightly brushed, a cute pixie style the result. The image in front of me in the mirror was all female, now with a female name and my school records showing me as a member of the female gender, my future seems set in stone.

Before I could break down in tears again Becky showed up, collected me and dragged me to her car. Seven hours after she had dropped me off she now had her lesbian lover and she was determined to take advantage of it. I must add that the seven hours at the salon seemed to be an eternity, as my mind tried to cope with everything and obviously failing to do so. At least I think the worse is over, surely they can’t do much more to me now than what has already been done.

Famous last words as we headed toward school. According to the paperwork attached to the gender change I had to stop in at the office and have a new picture taken for my school ID. Becky did go in with me, I think she was eager to see what else Sheila might come up with, although she was happy so far with the results. I got the picture taken, then when I was handed my student ID I looked at it noticing that I was now classified as a Freshman, not the sophomore I actually was. I asked the secretary to correct the mistake, she just smiled then showed my my records.

On my records I was a year younger and enrolled as a freshman, all of my classes now female oriented, my physical education classes which allowed me to play tennis missing from my schedule. Instead of PE I now had Home Ec., and several classes in presenting as a female, where they focused on deportment, beauty tips, and dressing for success. These classes were offered as part of their vocational program for the female that was having trouble with normal classes, so at least they would have some training in surviving in the world after graduation. In other words for the females that were lacking in intelligence but needing something to help in finding someone to take care of them. According to the secretary it was too late to transfer to a different class, I would be stuck with these classes until the semester break. A huge sigh escaped my lips, and we left the office. Sheila has sure done a job on me, my whole life now confused and frankly an utter disaster.

As Becky helped me to the cafeteria, we passed several signs asking for the students to vote for me for Homecoming Queen. Becky snickered as I finally saw them, assuring me she would vote for me to be the Homecoming Queen. As far as she was concerned there was not a prettier female on campus. She had to take me into the female bathroom as I broke down sobbing and muttering why me once again.

Becky got me the rest of the way to the cafeteria eventually, as the crying eased up some. She got me a plate of food, but I had lost my appetite, just pushing the food around on the plate while staring off in the distance. Several of my classmates came up to me, assuring me they would vote for me for Homecoming Queen, but wanted a dance with me in exchange. Becky handled them for me, I was about to enter into another sobbing fit, my mind so confused, not a single rational thought able to emerge from it at the moment.

I did attend my new classes that afternoon, just staring into oblivion as the teacher droned on. Becky met me after my last class, taking me to her car and then home. Mom met us at the door, her look very serious and concerned. I was hugged hard, then she took me into the living room and sat me on the couch. Her on one side of me and Becky on the other, each holding one of my hands. I swallowed hard, apparently more bad news about to be divulged to me.

I apparently have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, my doctor for my sex change having an opening when someone else canceled at the last moment. I was overdue for my hormone shot, and testosterone blocker shot. She wanted me to come dressed as a female, so she could evaluate my presentation, that way if I looked enough like a female she could schedule my SRS for me. Mom thought I should go, not to receive the shots but to be seen by a physician and evaluated on my mental state.

I got up from the couch, walked to my room and collapsed on the bed. I had cried so much there was not any water left for more tears. I closed my eyes and soon was asleep. When I awoke I had to go to the bathroom, the need to pee quite urgent. That in itself a very eye opening experience. For the rest of the afternoon and evening I was just there, very little brain activity and even less physical actions or movement. Becky decided I had wallowed enough in my troubles and dragged me out of bed and downstairs. Mom was there along with another lady, who I found out was my doctor for my gender re-assignment. She explained what she knew, feeling that the info she had been given was too good to be true. She had called Mom and they had talked about what had happened so far.

She decided she needed to talk to me and find out what is happening. She had me go through everything that has happened so far, so I did with Becky filling in on a few things that I had forgotten or misquoted. Dr. Phillips did know Sheila, a patient of hers for a while. The doctor had Becky and Mom leave us as she wanted to talk to me alone for a while. Over an hour later they were called back and she explained her thoughts on my condition and what I could do to minimize any further attacks on my masculinity.

According to her my breasts and vagina would be with me for several months before they could be removed. She suggested that I continue with my classes as a female while she checked into my demotion to a freshman and my loss of one years credit in classes that I had taken last year. As far as anybody else is concerned she wanted me to show enthusiasm for my supposed SRS coming up and embrace my nomination for Homecoming Queen. In the meantime she will check with Sheila’s parents as to her behavior and actions recently. In the past she had met them and they were instrumental in her prior treatment of Sheila. She would not tell us anymore or her reason for treating Sheila in the past.

I felt a little better, the cannonball express regarding my gender seemed to be slowing somewhat, a welcome relief. The next few days were weird but livable with, the amount of support that I had seemed to gather for Homecoming Queen was absurd. I stayed out of school on the afternoon of my supposed appointment for my SRS interview and booster shot. I did see Sheila observing me the next morning, so I played it up a little rubbing my behind after trying to sit at my desk.

A few days later, I was approached by one of the jocks, who stammered a little, then in a barely audible voice asked if he could take me to the Homecoming dance. His name was Chad, a starting halfback on the football team. I asked him if he is aware of my true gender, not wanting him to be embarrassed later. He smiled yes I know you were a male, but you look so beautiful and act so much like a female I find that hard to believe. I figured I would have to go to the dance, Becky and I as a couple would be frowned on by the school administration, so why not. He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek as he thanked me for going with him and skipped off a huge smile plastered on his face.

In truth, I was becoming too comfortable in this female persona, the dresses too hard to pass up and the makeup, underwear and heels almost automatic when I dressed every day. When I had a few moments for myself I was thinking of life after school, a spouse to take care of and love, who in return would see to my loving and happiness. Not a normal line of thought for a male. I was still not sure whether that spouse would be male or female, both Becky and Chad giving me goose pimples when I was around them.

I did get elected Homecoming Queen, with over ninety percent of the student body voting for me. Chad was a true gentleman, treating me like I was something special. I made sure he was rewarded for his efforts, the kisses he received after the dance long and erotic. I was affected too, having to cut the reward session short as I was getting too excited myself. Becky had watched after me at the dance, when we got to my house later I was the recipient of many more kisses and considerable groping. Eventually we fell asleep in each others arms, cuddled tightly together. I think she just wanted to reassert her ownership of me as a lesbian, making sure I knew who owned me lock stock and barrel.

I never did go back to being a male, and ended up experiencing two years as a sophomore. I did graduate in the top ten of my class, Becky just one notch above me. When I graduated high school, Becky and I were more than a couple, deciding to get married as soon as we could obtain a license. Luckily for us our state allowed same sex marriages. Even though I was a male underneath, all of my records showed me as a natural born female. It was a small ceremony, just us and our Moms.

Sheila was committed to a mental health facility and as of our last inquiry was still there. I wish her no ill, for she was solely responsible for the avalanche that resulted in my living my remaining years as a female. I never did play another game of tennis, my life as a female more than enough to keep me occupied.

The avalanche that consumed me that year, is looked back on fondly, a time for me to experience so many different things, a time for me to mature as a female.

Story Complete For Now

© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker

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