Act like a Boy or else …
by Lesley Renee Charles
After lying on my bed for a few minutes, I decided to explore my new bedroom.
I walked over to the vanity and gazed at the vast area of make-up and perfumes on the top. The cushion of the white chair was a very pale lilac, fitting in with the overall color scheme of the room.
I walked over the bureau and looked through the drawers. There was a wide variety of lingerie, skirts and tee shirts, more than was bought today. It made me wonder how long my father was planning this transformation for me. I really don't mind dressing as a woman, but I did resent the fact that a lot of the current decisions were forced on me. I think I need to talk to my father about his high-handed treatment of me.
I then went to the huge walk-in closet. There were a lot of dresses and skirted suit sets hanging in there. There was also about a hundred pairs of shoes there. None with less than a 3 inch heel though. I definitely have to talk to my father about that. Heels are very uncomfortably after a period of time and it would be nice to have a pair of flats or two, for comfort sake. Maybe if more men wore women's clothes they would appreciate all the torture women go through.
I noticed the photos of me throughout my childhood were displayed throughout the room. But there was something different about them. It took me a few seconds to realize that they were alter to show me as being raised as a girl. It seemed to me that my dear father was trying to eliminate all traces of Michael from existence.
I dread tomorrow when my first lessons on feminine behavior and deportment start. I had a small idea of what my father had in store for me and really did not want to be subjected to his exaggerated view of feminine behavior. I really was starting to dread my decision to wear the gaff. But the only alternative for me in this situation was to be a gay male bottom, which I feared may have been just as bad. I wonder if my dad had another room set up for me with that theme or did he only plan on me taking the female option?
I remember growing up with him and his trying to force me to be overly macho. He cringed every time I shed a tear. He tried to force me to play football, which I really abhorred. I was never what my dad would consider a typical boy. I was always on the quiet side. I preferred to play with girls as their quiet nature and ready acceptance of others was quite acceptable to me. I loved to play house with them and play with their dolls. Sometimes, I think it would have been better if I had a brother so that dad could have had his manly son and left me alone.
My father was always a very manly man. I think he resented the fact that his son was very effeminate. My dad was away from home a lot growing up, so that may explain why he had the time to set up this traditional male dominant group. Knowing his beliefs like I do, I dreaded how submissive I could end up.
My troop of men, came to get me to escort me to dinner for my first meal out of captivity. Well at least I was no longer caged. Or was I?