Message-ID: <15787eli$9810010535@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/15787.txt>
From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger)
Subject: New TG: A Losing Season 11 of 13 (Femdom(?), CD)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Reply-To: tigger@alices.com
X-Auto-Converted: 8bit to quoted-printable by isgate.is
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <3613ad56.485623@news.erols.com>

A Losing Season - An Alternative Ending to Seasons of Change
Part XI
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_authors/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. 

Losing Season: Chapter 34. The Final Confrontation

The little room had a small love seat and several chairs
clustered into a cozy little grouping in the center of the
room, with a small antique writing desk off to one corner.
Wearily, Michelle settled onto the love seat to wait for Jane.
Her mind drifted until she noticed her reflection again, this
time in the glass fireplace screen.  With detached interest,
she studied the picture she made.  Hands resting demurely on
her lap, her knees together and her ankles crossed.  "God, I
look like one of those Regency Misses from the novels Jane is
always making me read." she muttered to herself.

"Yes, you do at that." came a soft voice behind her.

Michelle's head slewed around to a door she had not noticed
when she'd first entered the room, and her blood froze. There,
backlighting emphasizing her proud stance and tall, slender
frame, was his mother! And at her side was Aunt Jane.

With a grace Michelle now knew had once been learned over
hours of long practice in her youth, Barbara Nash moved over
to the chair directly opposite Michelle and sat down.  

"Jane told me you were leaving." she said with a smile. "And
before we had the receiving line.  Since I did so want to meet
you, I thought I would come here to keep you company while
your car is brought around."

Stunned by the sudden arrival of the woman he had decided not
to face down, Michael was momentarily speechless, and could
only nod.  At least, he thought, she hasn't recognized me. 
Thank god for that much.

"Jane said there was something you wanted to tell me?"  

Waves of shock rolled over Michelle.  What had Jane done?
Hadn't she just told Jane that Michael no longer wanted to
carry through with his ill-meant plan of confronting his
Mother with the "death" of her son?  That he wanted nothing
more than to put this all behind him and get on with whatever
life he'd have in the future? Why in the name of God had Jane
said *anything* to Barbara?  Swallowing his roiling emotions,
Michael tried to brazen through as Michelle. "No, nothing
really, Mrs. Nash.  But I would like to thank you for having
me to your party."  

"Are you sure?"  

"Yes, I'm positive.  Shall we go, Aunt Jane?  Please?" All
three of them heard the thread of growing panic in that plea.
Yet,  Michelle managed to rise from her seat gracefully, her
nervous tension noticeable only in the stiffness with which
she pinched her skirt to rearrange it for walking away.

Then his Mother said,  "Don't go just yet, please."  Her eyes
were soft with entreaty.  Astonishingly, she added,  ". .
.Michael."

Bile started to churn in Michelle's stomach, and he searched
for an escape route, but there were none available.  With a
calm she was far from feeling, she answered.  "My name is
Michelle, Mrs. Nash.  Michael is a man's name."

The smile returned, a bit brighter and strangely, a bit darker
this time.  "Oh, I think I know precisely who you are." she
said firmly. "You are my son."

Michael's heart and breathing stopped as he stared in horror
at his Mother.  This could NOT be happening.  There was NO way
she could see Michelle and recognize Michael.  Grimly, she
tried again to brazen it out.  "I really don't think I am
anybody's son, Ma'am."

Barbara's smile did not waiver in the slightest.  This is what
a deer feels like, Michael thought, as it stares into the
lights of an onrushing car.  She knew.  Somehow, she knew.

And then, that "somehow" became clear to her.  Jane had said
nothing throughout this entire exchange.  She *should* have
come to Michelle's aid, should have helped her parry this
unexpected attack.  She should have, that is, unless *she* was
her Mother's source of information.  

The pain of this betrayal, after she had told Jane she cared
for her, was almost too much to bear. Furiously, the
femininely disguised young man blinked against the tears that
burned at his eyes, trying to salvage at least some small
scrap of his pride.

"Yes.  You are Michael." she finally said with equanimity.
"You've turned out even better than I'd dared to hope." 

Michael felt his world tilt crazily on its axis, but still
forced himself to remain steady, erect and dry-eyed before
this woman.  

The game was well and truly up, he realized.  The pair of them
had played him for a fool. 

Again.  

"Why?" he finally asked, looking from one woman to the other
before fixing his burning eyes squarely on Jane.  "Why this .
. . this game?  Is this just another of your damnable "little
ploys", Jane?  The biggest, most humiliating of them all? 
DAMN YOU, I'd started to care for you, and now you do THIS to
me?"

Jane quailed visibly at Michael's thrust.  She started to
answer but was restrained by Barbara's hand on hers.  "I am
the one responsible for every decision concerning you and your
welfare since the day you were all but expelled from your
precious St. Andrews, Michael. Therefore, your answers should
come from me.  You've earned that much with your efforts to
get here tonight."  With a quiet dignity, Barbara composed
herself.  

"Michael, you don't really remember your father.  The reason
for that is, in part, because you were very young for your age
when he died.  But another, more significant factor is that he
never allowed you to know him. I know that you've always
admired your father as tough, strong, manly - a paragon of all
those qualities that *real* men are supposed to admire in
other men.  Because of that, you've wanted to be like him and
in a way, he was making you like him, even from his grave."

She paused for a moment, steeling herself for what she had to
say next.  "But Michael, he wasn't tough, strong, or manly.
Instead, he was a heavy-handed, imperious bully, a vicious and
mean spirited, small-souled man; an immoral coward who enjoyed
kicking the weak when they were down because that made him
feel more powerful. I don't have words foul enough to describe
or name him."

Barbara cast a speculative look at her child.  "Did you know
that he'd left special instructions with the Head Master and
Dean at St. Andrews regarding your upbringing? They were to
see that you grew up emulating your father in every way. 
They'd have done almost anything for the endowment your father
promised them.  Ever wonder why you weren't punished when you
played all those dirty tricks on boys smaller and more
vulnerable than you?  That's why.  You were becoming his
vision of a man, and they were being well rewarded for it."

"Then why did that damned Dean suspend me?  If he was getting
rich from satisfying my father's wishes, why am I not still
there?"

Sighing, Barbara acknowledged the question.  "You simply left
them with no other choice.  They suspended you only after
you'd gone too far with your unruly undisciplined ways. 
Several wealthy families with long histories of sending their
young scions to that school were going to pull their boys out
to protect them from you."

"Unfortunately, your suspension precipitated other actions
about which you were and remain unaware.  Most specifically
and seriously, that suspension put you in serious danger of
losing your inheritance.  

She paused.  "When. . . when your father died, he left you,
upon you reaching your majority at twenty one years old,
controlling interest in his companies."

Confusion showed in Michael's tearful eyes. "So what? That is
nothing new.  How does that explain why I have not seen you
for barely more than five minutes at a time in over six
years?!?"

For the first time, indignant anger flashed in the eyes so
much like Michael's own.  "Michael, your father, that
egocentric, manipulative, miserable excuse for a human being,
had a secret codicil written into his will.  Basically, he
directed that you be made over in his image if you were to
inherit.  Why was St. Andrews the only acceptable school for
you? Your father decreed that in his will.  Why didn't I visit
you, and try to be a part of your life after his death?  Your
father decreed that, too.  *I* was a bad influence on you; *I*
made you weak.  And *any* failure on either your or my part to
comply with that codicil would cost you your inheritance."

"And then you were all but expelled from St. Andrews, after
everything you and I had already sacrificed to get you this
far, this close to attaining your patrimony.  I couldn't just
stand there and watch as you lost everything.  I had to at
least attempt to turn your life around."

"So, I turned to Jane.  My fiance is one of her graduates.
He's the one who reminded me of how well all of her students
turned out. Jane and I conceived a plan.  We would attempt to
restore your other self, that decent, gentle self that your
father wanted exorcized from your soul.  Then, and only then,
could you decide the kind of person you were, and then make an
informed about who you would become."

"How, Mother?" Michael rasped over the emotion churning in his
guts.  "What possible choice could I make?  I was a prisoner
in Jane's house, and if you think my father was vicious, well,
Jane could give him lessons.  My father never taught me to
love him, and then turned away from me.  He never promised me
honesty and then betrayed me.  Not ever.  No, it was *Jane*
who did that.  And you!"

A sob from Jane made Barbara's eyes flash in controlled fury.
"Jane is *nothing* like that bastard.  As to what choices she
gave you? You can be anyone you choose.  Our fondest hope was
that you would choose to become strong, but gentle; ruthless
when necessary, but merciful when possible - a *real* man,
Michael, the kind of man others can count upon when times are
difficult."

No longer able to restrain the tears, Michael was openly
crying now.  "How was I supposed to achieve this miracle,
Mother?  By being stripped of my identity and my dignity?  By
being forced to live as a girl? Ashamed because I wasn't
strong enough to stand up for myself and leave Jane as I
should have done that very first week, regardless of her
threats? Afraid that, sooner or later, I would be discovered
and have to live with that public humiliation for the rest of
my life?"   

Barbara shook her head frantically. "By giving those finer
qualities inside you a chance to emerge as Michelle's traits. 
Jane had experience bringing out that part of troubled and
troublesome boys, helping them to find far fuller and richer
lives than that narrow, twisted man I married could have ever
dreamed possible.  It was never my intention for you to become
a girl, ashamed that you're a boy. But neither did I want you
to grow into a man who felt somehow diminished or shamed by
anything soft, caring or tender in yourself; a man who would
be afraid that such feelings made him girlish and unmanly."  

"Well, trust me," Michael snarled petulantly.  "I was totally
ashamed and completely alone."

Barbara's demeanor changed, becoming fierce.  "I didn't want
you ashamed or afraid of *anything*, my son!  If I abandoned
you *this* time in turning your over to Jane, it was to take
that shame and fear away from you *forever*!"

"But you fooled us and yourself.  You had even more
sensitivity, refinement and gentleness still locked up inside
you than we'd imagined possible.  When Jane thought she was
humiliating Michael the bully, she was also tormenting
Michelle the compassionate and caring.  The internal conflict
between your father's Michael and our Michelle grew until it
became intolerable for you, and you tried to end that pain by
destroying yourself." 

Suddenly Jane spoke up. "When you . . ." Jane choked, then
continued, "When you attempted suicide, I was devastated.  Not
because I was afraid for me, but because I had somehow failed
you.  I had not recognized what was happening to you.  I did
not know who to call, or where to turn, and so, I called your
Mother."

"*Why* should I believe *anything* you have to say *now*?  You
said she couldn't be reached." he accused again before turning
his hot burning eyes on his Mother.  "Besides - you CALLED me
and told me you were too busy."

Barbara sat stone still, then resumed speaking.  "Michael, you
have no idea how terrified and desperate I was when Jane
phoned to tell me what had happened to you. At that moment, I
wanted to rush to your side more than almost anything else in
this life.  I yearned to protect you and to help you get well,
but for several reasons, I knew that I couldn't, that I didn't
dare!  Above all, knowing how you felt about me, I was deeply
afraid that my presence would only make a bad situation even
worse."

"That is only *one* reason, Mother." Michael growled. "You
said there were several."

"Remember what I said about that cursed codicil, Michael. 
Staying away from you was an unbreakable condition of that
damnable will."

She paused and then swallowed hard.  "Unless I wanted to
deprive you of your patrimony, I could *never* see you, or at
least, not see you any more than absolute propriety dictated. 
And never alone - always in the presence of one of his trusted
cronies who would "judge" my compliance with your Father's
wishes.  And then, when Jane told me she had called in one of
her students who was a psychologist.  At that point, we
decided to wait until we were sure I would be a help and not a
hindrance to your recovery."

"Why was I never told about this codicil thing?"  he demanded
roughly.

"Because telling you about it is also on your Father's
forbidden list and is grounds for you being disinherited.  I
am telling you now because you are old enough to understand
your own best interests. You need never admit that you are
aware of those provisions of your father's will."

Michael's sneer clearly registered his disbelief. "I have a
copy of the codicil.  I will give it to Jane and you will be
able to see for yourself."

"Why are you telling  me all this now??  Are you trying to
tell me that you *cared*?  That you were only trying to
protect me by staying away from me? Why bother at this point?
Because I tried to kill myself?" He demanded, his voice
choking on his pain wracked sobs.

Barbara wilted a moment under that charge, but then drew
herself up.  "I have always loved you, Michael.  I wasn't
heartless when I sent you to Jane. I was desperate.  Jane
called me every night with a progress report, and much of the
time she found me frightened and inconsolable. I love you,
Michael.  I adore you, Michelle.  There is nothing in this
world that would have made me happier than to tell your
father's lawyer to go to hell and come for you.  But I could
not cheat you of your inheritance.  You could, yourself,
choose to turn away from your father's past, and accept that
loss, but I could not make that choice for you. And you could
only make such a choice as a mature, rational and caring
person.  The question was, how could we help you become that
person?"

"You unwittingly showed us how to help you.  In your
resentment at my seeming aloofness, in your desire to hurt me
for hurting you, you decided to become a complete, fully
accomplished and yes, even sweet Michelle. A person who
epitomized everything your father wasn't and hated."

"So our plan worked!   Now, if you choose to be Michael, any
kind of Michael, it will be based on a profound understanding
of everything you are or can become.  But you had to become a
complete Michelle if you were  ever to become a complete
Michael.  Michael without Michelle could only be only half a
person.  And that half would be as flawed as your Father.

Michael's face twisted.  He was confused, and bitter, and
fighting to hold back his tears.  "How can you just sit there
and justify what you've done?  The pair of you?  You've
tricked me time and again, lied to me time and again, and
manipulated me.  How can I ever trust either of you ever
again?" 

Barbara's composure finally broke.  "We had to trick you; you
had to keep working at being Michelle so that Michael could
continue learning from her.  And you would not have worked at
that so diligently without the motivation you yourself
provided."

"And yes, Michael, I did not abide by my promise to you." Jane
added, holding her friend close, keeping her back straight and
her eyes steady, "Because we knew what was best for you.  I
cannot, will not deny that I kept some of the truth from you. 
I did attempt to be completely honest with you about
everything else, but you were beyond reach, convinced that
your Mother had completely and willfully abandoned you.  What
we did, we did because we wanted you to live.  More than that,
we wanted you to live well."  She said soberly.  "And I know
you can't believe this now, but it's true nonetheless. 
Because we both. . . love you."

Now Barbara was crying openly. "But, Michael" Barbara pleaded
softly, "Can't you see, *won't* you see?  There was no other
way, at least none that we could think of. I know you must
feel that this was all a base betrayal. Perhaps it was.  Only
time will tell if I was right or wrong in what I did.  But at
least now, you have *real* choices about who Michael Nash is
and how he will live his life."

"I refuse to believe that forcing me into skirts, and turning
me into one of Jane's wimpish sissies is an approved
alternative to my father's grand plan, Mother." 

Barbara sighed.  "No, it wasn't, and as long as you were
successfully following his program, there was nothing I could
do for you that would not have cost you your legacy. But when
you got yourself suspended from Saint Andrews, I decided that
I *had* to take this terrible risk in order to give you back
choices about your life - to try to save you."

"Save me?  SAVE ME???"  Michael's voice broke.  "Whatever did
I need saving from?  Other than from the two of you, of
course."

"From yourself, Michael. I've already told you what your
father had done to you. When you were sent down from St.
Andrews, the lawyer was ready to cancel your inheritance! 
After I conferred with Jane, I went to the lawyer and told him
that I knew of a program that would improve your self
discipline so that you could return to St. Andrews and
complete your father's educational program.  I am afraid I was
not very honest about what the program really entailed." she
said with just a faint smile on her sad face.  

"So you've known since the very beginning what I intended to
do, why I let myself be pulled back into this damnable
masquerade."  The full scope of his Mother's and Jane's
duplicity was now clear to him and his guts seemed to burn.
Oddly enough however, in some small, still barely rational
part of his mind, he wondered why he wasn't angry.  The old
Michael would have been - would have gone nearly insane with
rage at having been toyed with in this manner.  All this
Michael felt was hurt, sorrow and bewilderment.

"Yes, Michael, she did know."  Jane took up the tale. "Your
Mother and I spoke almost hourly during those first few days
after your . . . your incident.  Eric and I agreed that you
*needed* to be back in skirts, as much for the training we had
yet to finish as for the facing down your inner conflicts
about dressing.  That was necessary, Michael, for your mental
health."

"Moreover, you yourself said, less than an hour ago, that you
liked being Michelle. Which is understandable. Michelle is a
lovely person, but more importantly, Michael, *you* are
Michelle.  Everything good in her is also an intrinsic part of
you."

Michael could not take it all in.  He was becoming numb, and
he couldn't seem to think clearly anymore.  He just stared at
the two women.

"Michael?" Jane's voice was softly entreating.  "As Michelle,
you are like Liza Doolittle in Pygmalian, or My Fair Lady.
You've grown beyond the limitations that others would have
imposed on you. Now *you* can choose to live as a woman, full
time or part time, or as a man.  If you do choose to live as a
man, then your Mother and I both hope that you will do so as a
sensitive, self-aware and *strong* person who's more man than
that insufferable clod from St. Andrews could ever have
become."

Barbara sighed sadly and stood up.  She turned one more time
to face her son.  "I'm sorry I had to seem uncaring and cruel,
that I felt I *had* to leave you with Jane.  I believed it was
necessary for your own good. I don't know if you can ever
forgive me for manipulating you this way.  Or if you can ever
forgive Jane.  I hope you can, and will. . . someday.  We did
the best we could.  For you!  And you have to know that
regardless of what choice you make, there will be a price
extracted which only you can pay."

"What price?" he asked, but in an exhausted tone that had lost
all of its earlier emotion.

"There is always a price, Michael.  One choice is, to turn
your back on everything Jane has taught you these past months,
to become once again the person you were when you left St.
Andrews.  Haven't your found contentment, even happiness as
Michelle, Michael?  Would that old Michael ever find those
gifts at St. Andrews?  I don't think so.  

"Or you might choose to go back to St. Andrews as the person
you've become, an infinitely more worthy individual than the
one who left that damnable place, but one who won't fit in
anymore. You'd become the outcast you expected to become the
night you attempted to take your own life.  But you'd also
keep your patrimony.  

"Or you can decide to reject your father's path completely,
and thus lose your inheritance from his side of the family.
You would still have your trust fund from my Mother's family,
but that is a mere pittance beside your father's vast wealth."

Michael's tired, red rimmed eyes slid significantly down his
body, taking in the sleekly feminine figure gowned in a
designer's masterpiece.  Then his gaze returned to his Mother,
a look of sardonic disbelief on his face. "I don't think the
first choice has much chance, Mother, so I think you have
effectively forced my hand there."

Refusing to take the bait, Barbara shrugged.  "How you look
and behave at this moment is irrelevant. If you want to return
to St. Andrews, Jane will certify your behavior and self
discipline to that idiot Dean.  You've amply demonstrated
those attributes tonight.  Even now, your grace and
self-restraint are being tested to the fullest extent. As to
your ability to fit in there if that is what you really want." 

Barbara paused, and went over to the small desk on the other
side of the room, returning moments later with a glossy piece
of folded paper which she negligently tossed at the rigidly
contained figure of her son.  

"If that *is* what you want, the place described here will
assure you aren't too nice or too feminine for dear old St.
Andrews."  She indicated the brochure with a tired wave of her
hand.  "It's a sort of "boot camp for rich wimps" run by a
couple of former Marine Drill Instructors.  They specialize in
toughening up the sons of rich fools who are afraid that their
sons don't have the right stuff to swim with the corporate
sharks.  Just six weeks of hell and your father's Michael is
back again."

"Why are you giving me this?"  Michael asked quietly, holding
the brochure in his hand.  "Why are you making it possible for
me to undo everything you and Jane have worked, lied and
schemed to accomplish over the past months?

"Because now that you know there is another, better way, I
will see that you get whichever life *you* freely choose.
They'll teach you to swing your shoulders again instead of
your hips.  And to glare menacingly at anyone you don't like
instead of just smiling down your nose and then turning away
in disdain.  If that is truly your choice, that is what you'll
be - all boy, but never a *man* in the finest sense of that
word; all swagger, but with no true substance to you at all. 
Just like your father." 

Her voice changed again, dropping the sarcastic inflections.
"I have always believed you were more than that.  But now it
becomes your choice, and yours alone.  And it's a real choice. 
You can be a vulgar delinquent or a delicate feminine spirit
shamed into learning feminine ways."  

"But the simple fact of the matter is, Michael-Michelle, this
Ball has been your true coming of age.  Jane and I will make
no more decisions *for* you after tonight because we won't
need to. Tonight you have become your own person. Whoever and
whatever *you* want to be!  Whenever you want to be that
person!  Whatever school you may wish to attend."  

She paused, and then continued in an almost defeated tone.  "I
want you to know this, however.  I love you.  I have always
loved you, and I will continue to love you as long as there is
breath in my body.  Regardless of which path you choose or how
you decide to live your life.  I may not like you or your
choice very much, but you are my son and I will always love
you."

She turned to leave.

Suddenly the door crashed open behind them.   A tall, lithe,
beautiful young woman stood there.  "Barb," she snapped
impatiently. "Jamie has been looking all over for you so that
we can set the reception line and get the pictures taken." 

Then she saw Michael and gaped.  "I don't know you, but you
are the very image of Barbara.  I'm the sister of Barb's
fianc‚, Janice. And you are?"

Now came the moment of truth.  In that moment, Michael saw
clearly one last opportunity to turn the tables on the Mother
who had so basely manipulated him.  He had denied himself
earlier because he had chosen *not* to hurt her as she and
Jane had hurt him.

Just a few words and his Mother's perfidy would be all over
the ballroom in moments.  She'd become an outcast from the
society she loved. It was all there for him.  All he had to do
was tell this girl who he really was and why he was here
dressed as he was. 

But then, he just sighed softly.  He felt, rather than saw,
both Jane's and Barbara's eyes on him.  What was the point
anymore?  He had needed the rage and now, there simply wasn't
any rage left inside him.  

"You'll have to forgive me." Michael's Michelle voice replied,
as he brushed at the tears still tracking his mascara down his
cheeks.  "But Aunt Jane and Aunt Barbara were just breaking a
little bad news to me.  Someone very close to me died earlier
tonight."  

A part of me certainly had, he thought, but which part?  Then
he held out his hand to the girl, his wrist limp and supple,
just as he had been taught by Jane.  "My name is Michelle, and
Barbara is my Aunt."  A soft sighing breath was the Michelle's
only indication that his Mother understood that he had, once
again, turned away from the old mean-spirited Michael.

"Pleased to meet you, Michelle." the dark haired, dark eyed
beauty replied.  "Say, if you are family to Barb, we should
get you into the receiving line, too."

"No. . ." Michael let his voice hitch.  "I have to leave.  I
must get home as soon as possible.  You understand, don't
you?"  Janice reluctantly nodded and he turned back to Jane. 
"Aunt Jane, could we please leave *now*?"

Nodding solemnly, Jane took her ward's arm and led the her out
the door and into the waiting limousine. 

End Part 11


-- 
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>