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A Losing Season - An Alternative Ending to Seasons of Change
Part III
by Tigger
Copyright 1998

Archiving and reposting of this story *unchanged* is permitted
provided that no fee be charged, either directly or indirectly
(this includes so-called "adult checks") *and* provided that
this disclaimer and attribution to the original author are
maintained intact.

Based on the characters and situations presented in "Seasons
of Change" by Joel Lawrence, Copyright 1989.  This story is
archived in its entirety at:

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/transgender/by_author/Joel_Lawrence

This story represents an alternative ending to Mr. Lawrence's
story.  It is essentially a parallel universe story where
things start out the same, but follow a much different path
than the one portrayed in the original story. 

A Losing Season: Chapter 8.  Abandonment.

Maria had just taken away his breakfast dishes, more of the
funny, dry bars and a cup of chocolate flavored something. 
She had remained rigidly formal with him, and had refused any
overtures he made at conversation.  The only remotely personal
thing she had done was check him over to see that his injuries
were healing and were not infected.  Her fingers did linger on
the bruise that stained his mid drift, shaped like her foot. 
A very sad look crossed her eyes as she ran gentle fingers
across the blue black mark, but she had said nothing.

Alone again, he'd picked up the discarded detective novel and
tried to pretend he had not already figured out the ending
when the key scratched the door again.  This time the door
opened to admit Jane.  She was carrying a telephone which she
placed on the bedside table and hooked into the wall socket. 
She then pressed a button on it and spoke into the speaker on
the phone.  "Barbara, are you still there?"

Michael went instantly alert.  Barbara was his Mother's name. 
"Yes, Jane." came the sound of his Mother's voice, made
somewhat tinny by the distance of the overseas call.  The
utter lack of interest those toneless words conveyed was her
responsibility alone.

"Barb, I have Michael here.  Would you please repeat what you
just told me?"  Michael heard and then saw the barely
restrained emotion rippling beneath Jane's reserved and
autocratic facade.

"Oh, very well, but you could have told him." was the bored
reply.  "We are late for the opera.  "Michael, Jane has told
me that you have not responded properly to her treatment. I
don't want you to end up like your father, a hard-driving
bastard who died of apoplexy while furiously bullying an
overworked underling for some trivial error.  I have told her
to do as she feels she must.  Put you in a hospital, send you
to a military school, whatever. If you have any brains at all,
you will do what Jane says.  She knows what's best." 

Michael's face became a mask of pain as his Mother's voice
became cold.  "This time, you have gone too far and endangered
the family name.  I will pay for whatever Jane deems necessary
since you cannot possibly go back to St. Andrews now - not in
your current condition. But you won't see another cent from me
beyond that, Michael.  Your trust fund won't be released until
you reach twenty one.  I suggest you get your head screwed on
and stop making a nuisance of yourself."  She paused a moment
for effect. "Jane, is that all?  I really am frightfully
late."

Jane's control snapped and she slammed both hands down hard on
the night table, causing the phone to bounce.  "No, God
dammit, it is NOT enough.  Don't you want to hear *your* son's
side of this?  Don't you think you owe it to him to hear what
he has to say?"

Michael merely rose and walked away from the phone, and stared
out the window.  The response to Jane's query was "Jane, I am
late and I have no time to deal with this.  If you don't want
to be involved, you know what to do.  Good bye."

The phone clicked, and for a long time, Jane could do nothing
but stare at the buzzing speaker.  When the phone began to
chirp "If . . you . . wish . . to . . make . . a . . call. .",
she finally pressed the disconnect button and turned to look
at her ward.  He had not moved a muscle since leaving his
seat.

Jane quietly moved over to stand behind him.  "I am sorry
about that, Michael.  As badly as things have gone between us,
I did not think you would believe me if I told you that." she
paused momentarily trying to gauge his response. "And . . I
had hopes that talking to you might remind her that you are
her son and that maybe you are more important to her than
hearing Luciano Pavarotti at the Vienna Opera."

He gave a bark of humorless laughter followed by what might
have been a sob before flinging himself back onto the bed,
staring at the ceiling. "Why should she change now? She almost
got her fondest wish - no son.  She hasn't been interested in
me since my father died.  It's as if she looks for reasons not
to be with me."

Stiffly, Jane returned to the chair, apparently uncertain what
to do next.  Turning back to face his guardian, Michael noted
her worried expression and smiled darkly at her before saying
softly.  "I won't try to kill myself over this, Jane.  I will
live if only to deny her what she really wants."

"Eric assures me there is nothing in here you could harm
yourself with, anyway, Michael."

Michael reached for the heavy volume of the complete works of
Conan-Doyle and hefted it.  "He's wrong, Jane." and tossed the
book at her.  

She caught it awkwardly and examined it closely before tossing
it back to him.  "Doesn't seem very deadly to me." she said
with a forced lightness.

"No, but those windows are old glass, as old as this house. 
Old glass shatters really easily and that book is heavy.  I
could heave it through one of those windows and impale myself
on one of the shards before any of you could have stopped me."

Jane paled at the thought, but forced herself to ask.  "When
did you figure that out?"

"Last night, after Dr. Davis left the second time." he said
diffidently.  "I don't think anything could ever make me that
stupidly angry again.  Now, I have to figure out how to deal
with what is left of my life."  He thought for a moment more
and then looked at Jane.  "I guess that means starting with
you since my maternal parent abandoned her parental
responsibility to you, just as she has always abandoned me."

"Maternal parent?" Jane asked with a bubble of semi-hysterical
laughter.

"She sure as hell hasn't been a Mom to me in years."  Jane had
to agree with that, but held her silence.  "And something else
before you decide, Jane.  I won't turn the cops and the press
loose on you, regardless your decision.  I don't think you
have any more reason to trust me than you said I have to trust
you, but you have my word of honor on that score.  I don't
want to hurt Beth, or any of those other men you have. . .
treated?"  He could not bring himself to say 'helped'.

". .yes, *treated* over the years.  I wouldn't cry if
something nasty happened to Sandy, but I can't get at her
without possibly hurting others."

"Or me." Jane added.

"Or you." Michael added with grim finality.  "So, do you have
contacts in some nice concentration camp style military
school?  Or am I going to become a ward of the state as a
patient at one of the mental hospitals?"  

Jane thought she heard a touch of dread hiding behind the
bravado, and so she took her time answering.  "I really don't
know, Michael. The Doctor said a home environment would be
best for you, but obviously," she said, looking pointedly at
the now silent phone. "Your Mother won't be providing that for
you any time soon."

A knock interrupted their conversation and Dr. Davis stuck his
head in the door.  "May I come in?" he asked.  When Michael
shrugged, the slim doctor glided in.  The graceful, almost
feminine walk reminded Michael of his first glimpse of the
man, rigged out in his Erica outfit.  He'd been striking in
that severely tailored, forest green skirt power suit that had
perfectly complimented the flashing auburn tresses and lightly
freckled complection.  Striking, if not precisely pretty - and
certainly not as pretty as Beth, or even as Michelle, he
thought smugly.  Then he realized just where that line of
thought was heading and almost groaned.

"Michael," Jane's firm voice called him back from that
shocking thought.  "Eric does not want me to say this, but I
have decided I will tell you anyway.  He is here right now
because I had him listening in on that phone conversation with
your mother. ."

"Maternal parent." Michael corrected angrily.

"Ummmm. . . yes.  Well, he was listening in on what *Barbara*
had to say to you.  He's here because we felt you might want
to talk to someone who understood what you've been through
here. . . what *I've* put you through here, and who is
otherwise a disinterested party."

Michael considered that for a moment.  Obviously, the Doc
lived, how did Beth put it, with both identities as part of
his life.  And he was a psychologist.  He nodded.  "Thank
you." he said tiredly.

Jane rose.  "Then I will leave you two to do just that." she
said a tad too brightly, and then hurried out the door.

Michael looked up at Eric and offered him the chair.  The
words were out before he realized he was going to say them.
"Do you really dress up still?  By your own free choice?? 
With a wife and kids?!?"

A Losing Season: Chapter 9.  The Plan.

"It has the advantage, Jane, of killing two birds with one
stone." Eric offered earnestly.

"Please, don't use that metaphor, Eric."

"Sorry." he grinned. "But seriously, Jane, of the three
options open to us, it is the only one that would get him to
confront his festering inner conflicts about cross dressing.
Also, given his intensely competitive nature, being very good
at it would give him a goal to focus on."

"But what can we possibly use to motivate him to choose that
course of action?  Even though he has promised not to go to
the authorities, I cannot take the chance of trying to force
him back into skirts against his will.  Not again, by God. I
won't endanger my friends like that again."

The young psychologist grew very serious. "No, I agree that it
must be his own choice.  Well, as I said earlier, he is very
intelligent.  Maybe he would buy into the resolving his
internal conflicts as a motivator."  At Jane's disbelieving
glare, Eric shrugged."I didn't say it would be easy, only that
it was the best solution to all of his problems."

"I agree with you that he needs to accept his more sensitive
self and get rid of that macho-chip he carries around on his
shoulder.  But how do we get him to recognize that?"  Jane
complained.  "When he has already nearly killed himself
because of his experience in skirts?"

"It is not at all the same thing, Jane.  It wasn't only the
cross dressing that did him in, it was realization that the
life he had been planning on wasn't possible for him anymore." 
The psychologist thought for a few moments.  "The only other
thing that is nearly as critical to his emotional and mental
makeup is his utter ambivalence toward his Mother.  Not too
surprising after her little performance on the phone.  Maybe
you could find a way to make that work to your advantage."

"What?  Tell him getting into skirts will help him get back at
his Mother?  For heavens sake, Eric.  She *sent* him here, and
he knows she is fully aware of what I do to my young  men."

"Its just a possibility.  Unfortunately, we don't have a lot
of time to pull this off."

"I think it will work, too, Jane." Beth added quietly. "You
can be very persuasive when you care about something.  Michael
will respond to that.  I think he is looking for something,
some*one* to fill some very big holes in his life."

Jane scanned the small circle gathered in her study.  "All
right.  We can only try.  Maria?" she looked at her long time
friend and co-conspirator.  "Go upstairs and get him a
complete, skin out set of his male clothes including shoes and
underwear.  I want him to make this choice on his own, fully
understanding what he will be giving up as well as what he
might be gaining if we proceed down this path.  He will eat
with us at dinner and we will discuss his future afterwards in
the music room."

"Jane?" Beth asked as they rose to leave the room.  "What will
you do if he doesn't make the choice you want him to make?"

The older woman sighed.  "Exactly what he chooses, Beth.  I
don't see how we can chance trying to trick him, or changing
our minds about what we will do with him.  No, I will
scrupulously abide by whatever decision he makes."

A Losing Season: Chapter 10.  Choices

After three days of finger foods, Michael found the simple
pleasure of feeding himself with such civilized implements as
fork, spoon *and* knife deeply satisfying.  Maria's food
wasn't bad, either, and included just about every dish she'd
seen him particularly enjoy during his stay with them.  It
made for an odd meal, but if anyone thought it curious to have
Maria's authentic fajitas served alongside her spicy Chinese
stir-fried vegetables and candied sweet potatoes, no one
commented on it.  Beth did give him a very sly grin and a wink
when the german chocolate cake was served for desert.

All of this was made all the more special because he was
eating the meal in the dining room wearing his own *male*
clothes again.  Earlier that afternoon, shortly after Eric had
left him, Maria had arrived to tell him his bathroom water had
been turned back on.  She'd offered to try and do something
with what was left of his hair, but the damage done was beyond
even her ability to repair.  In the end, she'd shaved him
bald. 

Michael privately thought he looked like a young Yul Brenner. 
Beth, however, disagreed and had called him Uncle Fester when
she'd checked to see if he needed anything before dinner. 
When he'd finished his shower, he'd found his clothes laid out
on the bed - an open collared sport shirt, slacks, shoes and
real men's jockey shorts - complete with a *fly*.  

For a brief moment, he wondered what the catch was, but in the
end decided that there was not much else they could do to him
and had put on the clothes.  Precisely at six, Jane had
arrived to escort him to dinner.

Now that the meal was over, Michael wondered if he had slipped
into one of those classic Rod Serling Twilight Zone episodes. 
Had aliens from another time and place kidnaped Aunt Jane and
taken her place.  My God, he thought grimly, she'd actually
been pleasant to him.  She'd even *smiled* at him, more than
once, without looking like a hungry shark ready to pounce.

So it was with more than a bit of trepidation that he now
walked with the rest of the "family", including Maria who had
been told to leave the dishes, to the music room.  Was this
where the other shoe fell on his innocent head?  Had he just
been fattened up for the slaughter?

Inside the classically decorated room, a coffee service had
already been laid out.  Jane walked over to the small
sideboard that served as a bar and offered after dinner drinks
to Maria and to Eric.  Then she turned to Michael and Beth. 
"Would either of you care for something?  Some wine, perhaps,
or something stronger?"

Beth accepted the wine, but Michael, already nervous, decided
that he should try to keep what wits he still had.  "No, thank
you, Aunt Jane.  Some coffee would be fine, though."  He must
have been mistaken, he thought.  Was that actually approval he
saw in her eyes?

The drinks were passed out and then Jane had every one settle
on the various couches and chairs, but she was particularly
careful to seat Michael and herself directly opposite of each
other.

Thoroughly spooked now, Michael's mouth engaged.  "Is this the
time, the walrus said, to speak of many things?"

Everyone chuckled, but Jane's brow went up in that frightening
way she had.  "Am I to assume that you think I look like a
walrus, Michael?"  Then she laughed at his comical, open
mouthed look of terror.  "Oh, calm down.  Yes, we have to
talk, but nothing will happen tonight or as a result of
tonight that you do not agree to enter freely and of your own
will."

Now she quotes Bram Stoker to me.  Is she Vlad the Impaler, or
Van Helsing?

"We have to make some decisions about your future, Michael. 
You have some choices to make.  First, let me say that I
cannot, in good conscience, let you return to St. Andrews.  At
least not now.  Maybe in a year or so, if you still want to
return there, that can be arranged, however, Dr. Davis feels
that is not a good situation for you just now."  

Michael made a noncommital shrug, but said nothing.

"I have also, again with Eric's concurrence, decided that you
are not going to be sent to a hospital or to another boarding
school.  What you need is stability and people who want to
help *you*.  We are afraid that you won't get either as just
another patient or just another student.  The best solution
would have been for your Moth. . . that is, for Barbara to
take you away to a nice private home and let you deal with
this in a supportive family setting, which simply isn't going
to happen."  Jane let her voice become icy-cold.  "If she even
thought about it now, I would contest her revocation of
guardianship in court to keep her away from you."

Michael was astounded to see the anger in Jane's eyes, and
more, to see that it was directed at his Mother, not at him.
"So, here are the options you have, Michael.  First, Eric has
said that you can live with him and his wife in Chicago.  His
wife is familiar with my program and although she is a
supporter of my methods, she understands you have had a
particularly bad experience.  While you are there, you will be
free to live as Michael.  More importantly, Eric will be there
to help you deal with whatever you need to resolve in order to
get on with your life."

Jane took a sip from her wine glass.  "Your second option is
to stay here with me, living as Michael.  I would enroll you
in the local school system this fall instead waiting until
after Christmas as your Mother and I had originally planned. 
For your part, you will allow me to act in loco parentis.  I
will expect you to agree to follow my rules and regulations,
*which*," she said firmly with a hand raised to forestall
Michael making a comment, "I promise will be neither out of
the ordinary nor unfairly enforced.  In return for this
agreement, I will promise to defer any future . . .er. .
.special students" and here her eyes fell on the elegantly
dressed Beth, "until you reach your majority and can move out
on your own."

"Your third option is also to stay with me, but living as
Michelle."  At the shocked look in his eyes and the coiling of
his legs to bolt, Jane held up a restraining hand, and Eric
caught him by the elbow, effectively keeping him in his seat. 
"Hear me out, Michael, please."  

The soft entreaty in her voice did more to stay him than
anything she had ever threatened him with.  "First of all,
Eric and I both think the experience would be good for you
from the perspective of personal growth.  Thanks to your . . .
to Barbara's sending you to all those male-only, all year
boarding schools, you have had an almost complete lack of the
feminine influence and outlooks in your life.  Michelle might
give you some balance in your perceptions."

Michael could keep silent no longer.  "But that would mean
taking the chance I will be exposed publically as a sissy. 
And the probability of that happening sometime in the next
four years has to be nearly one hundred percent." He shot an
angry glare at Beth.  "You said she couldn't, wouldn't do
that." he accused hotly.

Intervening, Jane resumed.  "I know what Beth told you, and
she is correct, as far as that goes.  All my little ploys and
lessons are *always* aimed at protecting my girls from real
discovery all the while making them feel as vulnerable and as
threatened as possible.  However, experiences such as that
would not *our* objective for you.  *Our* goal would be to
make you, while dressed anyway, indistinguishable from any
other young woman your age.  To make you into a *lady*, not a
sissy."

Michael was no longer able to contain his fury and disgust.
"Little ploys and lessons? *Little* PLOYS?  Is that what you
call what you do to people?  What you did to me?  And just
what the hell good do you think that cockamamie idea would do
for me, anyway?  Besides, the very last thing I want in my
life is to give you that kind of power over me again, to
suffer your sadistic "little ploys" again." raw anger spewed
from him, and furious tears ran down his cheeks.  "Do you
think I am crazy?  Or just stupid?"

Jane quietly struggled to keep control of herself.  When she
finally spoke, Michael could see the pain apparent in her
face.  "You are neither of those things, Michael.  Just
someone with a far more resistant masculine self image than I
anticipated, someone I pushed much too hard, someone I did not
read correctly, someone I hurt very badly.  A great deal of
what happened to you must be laid at my door, and I am
suffering from my errors in judgement, my failures.  That is
part of the reason that I am willing to foreswear any new
students during the term of your stay with me - I, too, must
deal with this before I can once more take on the
responsibility of tearing down a personality in order to build
him back up again."

She paused to take a shaky sip of her wine.  The interview was
going much as she expected with Michael not willing to give an
inch.  She'd give him his pound of flesh if that is what it
took to get him to stay here and let her help him.  It was
time to try another tack. "Michael, those failures are my
share of what ultimately has brought us to this point, but
another important piece of the puzzle is inside you.  You know
that your reaction was completely beyond anything in my
experiences with the nearly fifty other young men who have
come to me over the last twenty years I have been . . .
treating them."

"I still don't see where this is going, Aunt Jane." Michael
snapped, impatience dripping from each clipped word.

"Simply this.  If you decide to try living as Michelle, I will
in turn promise to forego my "little ploys" and, as I said
earlier, to teach you how to be a real lady, not a sissy."

"Michael," Eric gently broke in, taking the pressure
momentarily off Jane.  "You have some deep seated issues that
Jane's humiliation games and her program of enforced
femininity ignited.  You have to deal with those problems or
this episode will haunt you for years to come.  What this
option will do for you is to permit you to deal with part of
the problem, your mixed feelings about feminine dress without
the humiliation aspect of all this."

"Mixed feelings, Eric?" Michael asked, turning to glare at the
older man.  "And just *what* is that supposed to mean?"

"Simply that a part of you really does like the dressing, the
masquerade, and another part of you is afraid, and maybe
ashamed to like it.  Be honest with yourself right now,
Michael, as you were with Sandy that morning.  You knew that
you were accepting Jane's training, and in part, because you
were enjoying some of it."

Michael did not want to admit his own misgivings on that
subject. Damn Eric for confusing him with his infernal
questions. "And you think dressing as a female for Jane will
help me deal with those "mixed feelings"?"  Michael asked
skeptically.

"We shrinks call it "confrontation", Michael.  Make a reasoned
decision to face, on *your* terms, whatever it is that
frightens you.  Understand it so that you can, in turn,
understand why it frightens you . . .so that you begin to
desensitize yourself to that fear."

"That sounds kind of fishy to me, Eric."  And then his eyes
became very suspicious.  "Does she still have something on
you?  Are you supporting her because you have to?  Just like
Beth supported her against me before?"

Green eyes burned furiously.  "Michael, you may choose not to
believe me, but do not *ever* insult my personal and
professional ethics.  You are my *patient*, and I would
*never* recommend something that was against my patient's best
interests.  Not for *any* reason.  If you feel that this
option is too much for you," and here Eric's voice became
subtly challenging, "Then don't do it.  Take either of the
other options Jane has offered you."

Michael was stung by the anger in the therapist's tones, and
sat back both to think and to gain some distance.  Finally, he
asked, "If I go with Eric, will he be my guardian?"

Jane shook her head.  "No, your Mother signed your custody
over to me.  I do not have the authority to transfer it to
Eric, and I don't suspect your Mother will oblige us. 
However, for whatever good you consider my word, I *promise*
not to force myself into your life if you go to Eric."

Not knowing what to say or think, Michael took a sip from his
rapidly cooling coffee.  He really wanted to be away from
Jane, away from here, but he did not really know Eric all that
well and he did not know his wife at all.  Except that Jane
said the woman approved of Jane's methods of treating problem
boys.  

"But suppose I agree to that third option, Jane, and discover
that I really do hate it.  That, even with you not playing
your games with me, that it simply makes me miserable?  What
am I agreeing to, time wise, in that option?  You gave it to
me separately from the one where I live with you as Michael
until I reach my majority and gain access to my trust fund. 
Is it all or nothing?  Do I live out the remainder of my
teenage years as a female with no option for parole?"

Jane did not know quite how to answer that question.  If
Michael became Michelle, she did not want a time limit other
than staying with the program until Michael got better. 
However, she knew that response would make Michael reject the
third option, which she was absolutely convinced was the best
for him.  Still, he *was* asking, and not rejecting the
Michelle option out of hand.

"If you are going to be Michelle, it would be best to commit
to being her.  Particularly if you are going to overcome your
private demons on this score.  If you are going to do it, I
think you need to make a commitment so that I can coach, and
yes, correct you without fear of you changing your mind on me
every day."

Michael obviously did not like that answer and was on the
verge of refusing to try that route when Beth spoke up for the
first time.  "How about a trial period, Jane?  Suppose Michael
commits to a specified period of time, regardless how he feels
about the masquerade.  During that time, he would promise to
do his very best to be the best Michelle he can be.  At the
end of the trial period, you sit down, discuss the situation,
and he makes a decision whether to continue as Michelle or to
revert to being Michael without consequences."

"How long?" Michael and Jane asked almost in unison, and then
both answered.  "One month!" "One year!"

Giggling at the two of them, Beth again intervened.  "Jane, if
you aren't going to send Michael back to school until after
Christmas, you have time in hand for a reasonable trial
period.  It is early July.  Why don't you agree to three
months.  That way, you will have time for Michael to
completely undo Michelle, like growing back eyebrows, working
the curls out of his hair and relearning all his male gestures
and speech patterns.  If he decides to stay with Michelle,
that will give you time to figure out what to do to get her
into school somewhere."

The responses were predictable - from Michael's "Three *whole*
months?!?" to Jane's "*Only* three months?!?"  Beth gave a
dainty shrug and let the two antagonists try to stare each
other down.

A piercing whistle made both jump back in their seats and turn
their glares on the cause.  Eric simply laughed and made a
'time out' signal with his hands.  "Why don't you sleep on it,
the pair of you.  Michael has not even agreed to be Michelle
yet.  Heck, he might even decide to live with me, although. .
." and he batted his eyes at the young man, "It *would* be
nice to have company for Erica at times."  Michael's blank
look set Eric off again. "Just kidding, Michael.  Trust me, if
you come live with me, you can set up a "no-dress" zone around
yourself if that is what you need. Go to bed and think about
it, okay?"

Michael was still struggling with Jane's obvious preference.
"Suppose I goof up, Aunt Jane - get unmasked as a sissy boy in
girl's clothing?"  He knew he'd never be able to hold up under
the humiliation of such a calamity.

Something of the old, hard Jane came back into her eyes.  "So
don't goof up." she ordered caustically.  "Besides, you've
already told me that such an exposure no longer threatened
you.  Right?" She said silkily as she cocked her brow at him
in challenge.  Let  him remember *that* statement, she
thought.  Then she gentled her tones.  "And I will say this
just once more, Michael.  You won't *be* a sissy, subject to
and molded by my carefully orchestrated lessons in
humiliation. I will teach you to be a *real* lady who will
pass muster anywhere, in any company and under any
circumstances."  

Before Michael could find the wit to respond to that, Jane's
stern look incongruously softened, and then, wonder upon
wonder to Michael, Jane *actually* blushed and stammered. 
"Well, maybe not quite *all* circumstances.  You will still
be. . . ummmmmm. . . entire, as dog breeders speak of their
fully male animals."

Michael quickly understood precisely which circumstance Jane
could not guarantee his disguise would pass muster, and
blushed furiously himself. Well, he was NOT going to go to bed
with a guy.  Nor was he going to become . . not entire,
either.

No one spoke for several moments, and just sat quietly, warily
watching the emotions flit across Michael's face.  Finally, he
shook his head.  It was just too much to absorb all in one
sitting. "All right. Maybe Eric has the right of it. This has
been an awful lot to take in and I am bushed. May I be
excused, Aunt Jane?"  She nodded and he rose to leave.

"Michael?"  It was Aunt Jane's voice.  He turned around just
in time to catch a large brass key that nearly clipped him on
the nose.  "That is the only key to your door.  Make sure you
don't lock yourself in tonight.  We'd have to take the door
apart to get you back out."

Michael clutched the key in his hand, its implications running
wildly through his head.  No more locked doors. And he had his
male clothes again.  There was nothing to keep him here
anymore.  He was, for all intents and purposes, free.  Dazed,
he looked back to his Aunt Jane.  "Go to bed, Michael.  We
will talk in the morning."

He left the room quickly as the others quietly watched his
retreat.  "About as well as we could have expected, Jane."
Eric said softly.

"But suppose he doesn't choose Michelle, Eric, what then?"

"You already answered that question, Jane. We will keep our
promises, and try our best to help him within those
limitations.  We knew coming into this that his tough-guy,
"man's man" persona was going to resist strongly what his more
sensitive side might prefer to try. And I think Beth's idea of
a trial period is a good one.  It will give you a chance to
get him into skirts and gentle him for a bit.  It will also
give him a chance to just enjoy the feeling of wearing nice
feeling clothes and being pretty without worrying about your
"little ploys".  I think that, if he takes that option, by the
end of three months he will be likely to choose Michelle for
the long term."

End Part III


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