Frances; Mistake In Gender

I had been trying to get into this vocational school for ages, a private school funded by some companies interested in only the highest caliber of students. Most of the graduates went right to work, their training second to no one. The supporting companies mostly drawing from this pool of highly skilled graduates. A few graduates were hired away by other companies, the reputation of the school beginning to be widely known.

As of three years ago I had started applying, going to a local university getting all of my required courses for graduation out of the way, but starting the application process for this vocational school. They only taught three curriculums, but had some of the most noted authorities in their fields teaching the courses.

Nursing was the first thing they started out with, within six years they had a world class program, teaching several different specialties to their nursing students. They joined with a nearby community hospital, offering their students practical applications on top of the classroom instruction.

The second curriculum added was gender studies. Doesn’t sound like much but the degree that they approached that subject was unheard of in the scope of things. There were two distinct divisions, one was the female gender and the other of course the male gender. You were enrolled on one or the other, three years of everything to do with the gender of your study, and I do mean everything. History of famous people of that gender, psychology, sociology, customs, mannerisms, sexual interaction with the opposite gender, fashions, current leaders of that gender, and assuming the role of that gender. Nothing was left out.

The most recent addition to the school was parenthood. Not what it seems at first thought it addressed raising of children, from babies to young adults, a wide subject, but admittedly one of the most abused and understated problems of young adults. They either didn’t do anything concerning their child or did as their parents raised them, mostly wrong emphasis, and not what the child required or needed to learn.

Every six months I sent in another application requesting admission, providing my transcripts and my eagerness to learn. It had been widely known that they received over twenty thousand applications every January and July when they opened the admission process. I held out hope that one day I would receive the invitation to join the students there.

My name is Frances Walker, a male born to a middle class family in Central Arizona. I had a sister a year younger than me that lived and breathed sports. We got along fairly well, although we interacted very little with each other. The name Frances was the name of Mom’s favorite sister, so we each got the name when we were born. Hers morphed quickly to Fran that is how she preferred to be known as. For a while I was called Frank, but I didn’t interact with males much, so quickly that nickname was lost.

I was basically a student that came first with me, even if my social status suffered. I had several female friends, strictly study partners or classroom buddies, but never away from school. They preferred Frances so that became my name of choice. I tried several times to encourage another name or nickname, but all I received for my efforts is that Frances just sounded better.

During grade school I was called names constantly, Frances a favorite name to use and abuse. I fought it for a while, then discovered if I just stood and took it, the problem would fade away quicker. High school had a few instances, but the rules for bullying were gaining in strength and numbers so that too faded away. In the community college, a first initial was commonly used and your last name so the problem seldom surfaced.

I had been away at a summer camp on abnormal psychology, an interest of mine, possibly being able to add that to a nursing degree if I could get in to the school. The letter came to our home and Mom opened it at my request. I had been accepted for the fall term, but needed to come in right away to select my courses and pay the tuition. I had saved my part time job money for years, so I had enough for the entire three years.

One requirement was when you signed up you needed to pay for the entire program at the time of enrollment. If you failed to pass or withdrew, your unused money would be refunded. I was three hundred miles away, so I asked Mom to enroll me, since I would have a hard time getting back in time without losing credit for the summer camp. She assured me she would handle it tomorrow. It turned out that sis had also been accepted at University, getting a four year full ride scholarship because of her athletics.

So it was planned that the two of them would sign her up and then come back and enroll me. I heard nothing so I presumed it all went well. Four days later I returned from camp, took a day to unwind and do laundry, then headed to the vocational school to check on things and find my way around. They were having a reception for new students at the auditorium, so I made my way there and listened to the different speakers telling a little about the school and the faculty. After the speakers they opened the office so you can get your schedule and speak to a counselor about your classes and next year’s program.

I picked up my schedule but only glanced at it since I was called to the counselor’s office right away. Ms. McHenry was my assigned faculty advisor, holding a PhD in gender studies. That should have made me stop and think, but the excitement of getting into the school was still occupying my brain.

She was surprised when I walked into her office. A look of bewilderment came on her face. She looked at the paperwork on her desk, checking to see if she had the right paperwork for the right person. She asked my name again, then smiled a little. “I think we might have a problem here, you need to tell me who you are, what curriculum you wanted and what you want to do with the degree.”

I frowned right away, this can’t be good. I explained who I was, handed over a copy of the application I had sent in, and all of my school history including transcripts. She looked it all over, then asked why I had changed the information when I came in to register and pay the tuition. I slapped my forehead hard, either Mom or Sis had actually signed me up, that right there leaves it open to some misdeeds. Mom because she is forgetful sometimes, and Sis just to get at me.

I told her I wanted the nursing curriculum, her face supported a frown, but she called someone on the phone to ask for any available vacancies. She made another call and talked to someone about my schedule that I actually hadn’t had time to look at. Since she was holding it in her hand I could only make out my name and eight classes listed on the sheet, those barely possible to read since they were in bold print.

She broke the news to me now, they had arranged a meeting with the dean in an hour to see if anything could be done to help me. I somehow got registered as a female, the copy of a doctor’s report verifying my sex and physical health. Nursing classes, since eighteen months ago are now closed to any member of the male sex. Since the hospital they use for the majority of the training is now only handling female patients. My registration form shows gender studies as my preferred curriculum and since the sex is female, of course, you got female gender studies. Only with three psychologist’s referrals could a student get a curriculum in gender studies not matching their birth sex. I was informed that had not been done before although technically possible.

She suggested that I think it over, maybe if I accepted the current schedule and curriculum, at the next semester break they might be able to switch me to my preferred curriculum. She did caution me that some disguise would be necessary, for the female gender studies, unless I just wanted to withdraw from the school and take my chances on getting back in later. She handed me back my schedule pointing to one class in particular, Female Presentation. A class in making the proper impression in makeup, fashion and hair styles. A detailed instruction in doing your own hair, makeup, and picking and buying you wardrobe to present the proper image of a young female in business.

She showed me to an unused office where I could think about what I wanted to do, then she would come and get me when it was time for the appointment with the Dean. I made my way there and set on the loveseat on the far side of the office. I pretty much ruled out Mom in this, she is scatter brained but knows how much I wanted this. I played scenario after scenario through my mind trying to see a way to reverse this, or at least salvage some of what I wanted.

I was now angry at my sister, for doing this to me. She has always been jealous of my IQ and my drive to get what I wanted. If it didn’t involve sports, she was clueless about it. This would fit with a perfect way for her to get even with me, stuck in a three year program of female gender studies, most likely portraying a member of that gender while doing it. A perfect way to teach me a lesson. I had no proof of her doing any misdeed, some other forces could be at work here, but the million to one odds made that an unlikely event.

I did remember the eight classes, a hefty load for an incoming student. I made a note to ask about this. Since not any of my thinking produced even a chance of changing things I decided to accept fate, if that is what is at work here. Find out what I needed to do to stay in school and do the minimum to maintain my acceptance here. Then maybe some chance will make itself known and miraculously change things later to more of what I originally desired. I knew I would have to prove myself academically, if I hoped to make changes later.

It wasn’t long before Ms. McHenry came and got me and we walked down an aisle to a larger more impressive office. The dean was introduced to me, a Ms. Sandler and my advisor explained the situation to her. She listened to the explanation, I did receive a couple of stares as this was being told, but a smile too when Ms. McHenry was finished. I managed to ask about the eight classes, apparently I had asked for the advanced classes, a way to progress faster and graduate sooner. Since my transcripts were impeccable that course of action had been approved.

Ms. Sandler studied my file reading most of it, then asked about my sister. Since I had not been there in person for my registration she wondered who actually did sign me up. I was not sure if she or my Mom had performed the task and I told her that. Then she surprised me my telling me that my sister is quite talented at least physically. It turns out that her husband is Dean of the university, where sis is going to attend and approved the scholarship for her. He had interviewed her twice for the scholarship and had mentioned a little about her to his wife.

Now I think I have a better understanding of what might have happened here. Unfortunately I can’t correct the problem in the manner you would prefer, not at least at this time. So you have two choices, give up or practice your female looks and mannerisms. I suggest Turnabout Gurl for the transformation. A few of our students have had cause to use them for this type of situation, I think you will be quite pleased.

Now in a separate matter, I have had siblings that have caused disruptions in my life, the most effective way to handle these situations is to just accept what they have started, make the best of it, and proceed like nothing is not as it’s supposed to be. If some authoritative help is needed here is my cell phone number, you can reach me anytime. Now is there anything further we need to discuss, classes start next Monday, you do have me for sixth period class, fashions of Victorian Times. I will see you in class Ms. Walker, have a nice day.

I walked out of her office in a daze, Ms. McHenry did furnish the address for the salon, then she went back to hers. Just like this happened all the time and nothing was wrong. I made my way to their student union building, found a place to purchase a diet drink and went out to the patio to sip it and think.

Lots of things were banging around in my head, who actually got me in this predicament number one on the list. Then after a little more thought who cares. I did have two choices, attend school as a female or quit. I think the way Ms. Sandler phrased it, she knew it would get me to make the right decision. I was not a quitter, never have been, so I would rise to the occasion, accept my fate and get on with life.

I drove over to the salon, inquired if I could talk to someone about their services then waited to be helped. A gorgeous example of feminine pulchritude greeted me and escorted me to a private room where we could talk. As I was being led through the salon, I saw many things that seemed to need questioning. As we arrived at the room, I knew if I decided to venture this direction I was in the right place. First was the customers I was seeing, lots of males, then as we progressed how they got them looking so female.

Jennifer asked what I needed, I gave her a condensed version of the episode so far and asked if they could help. “No problem, how far do you want to go in the disguise?” I paused thinking of maybe how I could most disrupt my sister’s grand plan. Then an idea wedged myself into my brain. I took out my cell phone and looked through my pictures for a snapshot of Sis. Once I found it, I showed it to Jennifer.

As much like her in looks, but instead of athletic let’s make it sex personified. She giggled than scanned the picture into a computer. They had software that would let them show the customer how they would look with different treatments. She would bring up a treatment, then show me the options. I would then pick an option then scanned image would morph with the selected option. I probably got carried away, a tendency that I have always had. The end product was indeed sex personified.

Then Jennifer had me stand, face the camera and took a picture of me. This was morphed into the other and now how I would look appeared on the screen. Definitely a sobering moment. We talked quite a bit over the next hour, what I was planning quite severe, affecting me for more than just a few months. They did have some classes in female mannerisms, walking in heels and basic social interaction that she recommended. She insisted that I think about it overnight, although the procedures could be reversed, it was still a drastic change and some of the results would be with me for several months before all of the treatments finally faded away.

I agreed, but a text from dear old Sis at that time changed my thinking.

Hey Frances how goes the new school, looking forward to seeing you all decked out in your finery. Love Sis

That made up my mind, I told Jennifer to make the appointment for tomorrow morning, I will indeed think it over, but I am sure I will want all of the treatments. Also the basic classes as soon as I can get enrolled in them. I decided to not go home tonight, a female friend was out of town for a couple of days and she had given me her keys to see to her cat’s needs. I called her making sure I could stay over one night, telling her a little about what I was planning to do. She suggested that I stay there until she got back, she definitely wanted to see the new me. Besides her cat Bootsie, will appreciate the company.

That handled, I went out for a larger than normal early dinner, then dropped by the house to pick up a few things. I had some cash hidden away, my mad money, since I was obviously mad no better time to use it. The more I thought about it the better the idea sounded. The dinner was my favorite, a Mexican restaurant that moved in about three years ago the target. They offered a combination plate, enchilada, tacos, burritos, quesadillas, and all served with hot sauce and tostadas. This way I could leave my male gender in style.

The meal was delicious, I took my time savoring every last morsel of it. Maybe I presumed that I was now on death row, my last day as a male trying to grab at anything making it either less stressful or a last chance to postpone the inevitable. No pardon came from the Governor, no last minute confession from Sis admitting she had been the one to kill my male self other than the hint in the text message.

Bootsie enjoyed my company never leaving my side all night. When I went to the bathroom he also used his litter box, When hunger pains attacked he ventured to the kitchen also, nibbling of the food left for him in the nearby laundry room. When I returned to bed he was right beside me, purring his thanks for having a sleep partner. I got up, fed him his canned treats this morning and then showered. Dressed in some sweats I made my way to grab some nourishment myself, an energy bar sounded better than the rest of Bootsie’s can of food. I did get a painful look and a pout as I left the door of the apartment.

The salon was active already, nearly full with customers experiencing their services. I wondered how many men are actually left dressed as a male since a larger than anticipated share seemed to be getting a healthy dose of femininity. They came in all sizes, from taller than normal to a little pudgy, but as they left the salon there was no doubt about their gender. Female in every sense of the word.

Jennifer and I walked back to a private treatment room near the back of the salon. She wanted my decision and when I told her that I was proceeding she placed a thick file on the table, each sheet of paper describing a treatment and my approval of that treatment being used on me willingly. The salon was very thorough and everything was explained in its entirety. Then I was handed copies of the releases and Jennifer told me to take all of my clothes off. Soon I was naked, Jennifer spreading a cream over every inch of my male body. Of course, the hair on the top of my head was left out, but my eyebrows and beard area were treated as if that kind of thing was a normal occurrence.

Breasts next, as two clear forms or cups were glued to my chest. I gave her a questioning look, these don’t look too realistic and will fool almost no one. The she dragged two hoses from underneath the table and attached them to the forms, two syringes of a fatty substance was added to each form and the pump was turned on. It started pulling the loose flesh into the forms, then it started vibrating. It was comical to see the flesh in the cups bouncing up and down. It was also slightly erotic.

The size of the forms then became of importance, breasts this big would be highly visible. I tried to remember what cup size I had chosen when we were going through everything yesterday. I know sis is a C cup, I did want to show her up, so I think I specified a D cup in the selection process. Looking at the size of the forms again, that maybe was not the wisest choice.

While the pump was sucking and vibrating, she moved on to my groin. I had selected a custom vagina, that not available for a week. She would use one of the ones off the rack until the custom ordered one came in. Junior was tucked away, not to be seen for quite a while. I never was obsessed with my organ, like some other males and my female interaction was almost nonexistent. I doubted I would miss him, but anything that you used to have that is now withheld does affect the mind some. A feeling of emptiness down there, nothing to get in the way even if I crossed my legs.

After my organ had been glued away, she took my hands and started on them. Soaked in a liquid for a while, then the cuticles removed. I wasn’t even sure what a cuticle was until I asked. It did make a big difference the edges of my nails were now more distinct, whereas before they looked messy with extra skin threatening to spill over to the nail itself. They were filed into ovals, my normal nail length just at the end of my fingers. I did have a habit of chewing them when extremely nervous, so they never got past the end of my fingers very often. A long elegant extension was selected for each nail, matching the width of my existing nail. Those were glued on to my nails and then my hand placed in a box. A purple light came on, and I could feel a faint air current over my fingers.

Some minutes later my hand was removed and replaced with the other. A clear base coat was added to the treated nails, then three coats of polish, a deep salmon pink, one selected to blend with my skin tone. Each coat of the polish was treated in the light box, making the polish set hard. A final glossy top coat was added, however it is doubtful that the reflection from my nails could be made any shinier.

I received two piercings in each ear, a diamond looking stud and a long dangly mesh of wire and sparkling diamonds. Immediately I noticed the dangly earring as it touched my neck in spots never touched before. It was weird, yet comfortable, a reminder of my new status and look. There was a matching necklace and a bracelet on the table next to me for later as soon as I was done with the transformation.

The pump was turned off and the hoses detached from the forms. I noticed as she unhooked the hoses that the forms were full and quite flexible. As she brushed her hand over one of the forms when she released the hose I actually felt the touch. It gave a little, the breast moving now somewhat. I was still able to feel the vibrating motion in the form, even though the pump was turned off.

The biggest difference was the weight of my new mammaries. I could feel the weight pulling down on my chest, the bra that was offered made quite a bit of difference. I liked how it cradled my new breasts, making them feel secure and safe. Although the new weight pulled some on the shoulder straps of the bra, it was much more comfortable then no bra at all. The bra did keep the new breasts from sagging, making my new bust line quite a bit more noticeable. Noticeable and proud, they were not to be missed by anyone looking at me. I suddenly lost sight of my feet, unless I leaned forwards to look over my breasts my feet were no longer visible.

Story Incomplete At Present

© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker

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