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A Losing Season - An Alternative Ending to Seasons of Change
Part I
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.

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. 

This is my second inspiration from this story. My first
derivative story, "A Second Season" starts where the original
author's work stopped.  That story is archived in its entirety
at:

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

This story takes place following the day described in Chapters VI
and VII of Joel Lawrence's Seasons of Change. Essentially, it is
a darker vision than the one I wrote of in "A Second Season".  

Setting: The lead male character, Michael Nash, has been
suspended from his very elite private school, St. Andrews
Academy.  With the concurrance of the school dean, he has been
sent by his mother to live with her old friend, Jane Thompson who
will attempt to teach the young man (late teens) control and self
discipline.

"Aunt" Jane employs a "Victorian" type training program to tame
undiscipline boys.  She does this training by means of a
delicately balanced regimen of humiliation and enforced feminine
deportment.  She is assisted in this program by her housekeeper
(Maria) and several business women including the owners of a
beauty salon (Carolyn and Sandra) and the proprietor of a
combination dress and lingerie shop (Mrs. Franson).  The other
key player is David/Beth, one of Jane's feminized boys who is
still living with her and who is required by Jane to "guide" (and
setup) the new student.

Michael knows nothing about this, and is slowly "trapped" into
Jane's program of petticoat dominance.  Jane forces him to accept
her program or lose his chance to return to St. Andrews because
the dean will only readmit him after Jane certifies that he has
been reformed.

As we begin our account, Aunt Jane, David/Beth and
Michael/Michelle have returned to Jane's house from Michelle's
initial public outing disguised as a girl.  They have visited
Carolyn and Sandra at the Marisha Chalet where he was humiliated
by their taunting and terrorized during a make-up session as
Carolyn's training subject, and at Mrs. Franson's "The Style
Shoppe/MiLady's Closet" where he had to maintain his tenuous
disguise in the presence of the young female shop clerks while
dressed only in lingerie.

Each member of this unlikely trio is flushed with different
emotions at the end of their long day of shopping for dresses and
lingerie, and of feminine primping at the beauty salon.  Michelle
has been ordered to go up to her room and put away her new
dainties, cosmetics and clothing while Jane and Beth retire to
her study.

This story departs from the original tale at this point in time.

A Losing Season
by Tigger

Chapter 1.  Escape Attempt.

Jane relaxed in her favorite chair, sipping a celebratory brandy
as Beth daintily nibbled at the low tea Maria had provided for
her and Michelle.  The day was well worth celebrating in Jane's
view.  While not yet a major breakthrough, she was certain that
this day's excursion would prove to be a significant milestone in
Michelle's maturation.

Sandy had gleefully reported Michael's involuntary erection and
spontaneous ejaculation from the humiliating treatment and
teasing at the Chalet, and then Jane had seen him try to hide a
similar reaction while being exhibited in his cute new undies at
MiLady's Closet.  From Jane's perspective, if not from
Michelle's, both were extremely positive reactions.  It meant she
now had the opportunity to really get into her charge's head
sooner rather than later.  As her more direct minded sorority
sisters used to say, a hard-on does not lie.  

Something deep inside Michelle was beginning to be touched by her
unwilling immersion in the feminine condition.  More importantly,
she was starting to become aroused by her current condition. 
That gave Jane one more effective tool in addition to humiliation
with which to guide her little girl.  After all, women had been
leading men around by their smaller head since Eve first shined
up that juicy red apple and offered it to Adam.

Speaking of Michelle, Jane thought, what is keeping her so long? 
She should have been back by now.  A darkly mirthful grin lit
Jane's face.  Maybe she was trying on her new things in the
privacy of her room.  Well, if that was the case, then she'd give
her little sissy just a bit of a jab by providing a likely-to-be
*very* unwelcome intrusion.  Michelle'd be mortified to be caught
doing something so femme as primping and preening over new
clothes.  Even by . . . "Beth?"  Her charge looked up from the
newspaper she had been perusing.  "Go up and see what is keeping
Michelle, would you please?  Her tea is getting cold."

Nodding, Beth rose and curtseyed before hurrying to the stairs. 
Jane took in the aroma of the fine aged brandy swirling in her
crystal snifter as she plotted how she'd play out this little
humiliation scene if, as she strongly suspected, Beth found
Michelle modeling her new things in the mirror.

"JANE!!! MARIA!!! COME HELP ME!!! HURRY, PLEASE!!"  The scream
was not in the least feminine, but it was definitely David/Beth
calling for help.  Jane was up and running before the word
"hurry", but found Maria already ahead of her as she reached the
stairs.

The two women followed the sounds of yelling and scuffling to
Michelle's room.  What they saw momentarily stunned them into
immobility.  Michelle and Beth locked in a vicious struggle, with
Michelle trying to kick or throw the other girl away as Beth
grimly clung to one of Michelle's arms.

"Help me, Dammit."  Beth screamed at the two gawking women. 
"He's trying to slit his wrists!"

Jane and Maria leapt to Beth's assistance, Jane grabbing
Michael's other wrist and Maria trying to restrain his flailing
feet.  The furious boy/girl's surprising strength was almost a
match for other three until Maria reared back and slammed a
spinning heel kick into Michelle's solar plexis.

Michael collapsed to his knees, wheezing and gasping for air. 
Jane finally succeeded in getting the blade from a broken
disposable razor from his clenched fist.  Moving quickly, the
threesome bound the now hysterically sobbing boy spread eagle to
his canopied bed using nylon stockings from the large bureau.

Only then did Jane get a good look at *him*, for there was
nothing remotely feminine about the completely nude figure
straining against the tightening nylon bonds.  His newly curled
coiffure had been ruthlessly hacked away, taking pieces of his
scalp in the process.  Even the painstakingly tweezed and shaped
eyebrows had been shaved away.  Blood trickled down one cheek and
across his forehead where he'd nicked himself with the razor. 
His hands and wrists also bled, from his attempts to get the
blade to his veins and from whatever he'd used to rip away the
lacquered-on fingernail tips.

The room was also bore the ravages of her ward's rampage.  Ragged
swatches of color were strewn all about the room, as if a
confetti bomb filled with shredded bits of brightly hued silk,
cotton and satin had exploded.  Instead of trying on her new
things, Michelle had been destroying them, evidently in the
throes of an uncontrolled rage.

Nothing of this day's supposedly successful adventures remained
intact. 

"David, go call Nurse Bedford.  Her number is in the organizer on
my desk in the study.  Tell her I have a boy-girl emergency. 
Then go wait for me in your room, please."

Beth started at hearing her "boy-name".  "You will be all right,
Jane?"  Jane knew that was not the question Beth wanted to ask,
but she nodded as she looked at the still struggling Michael.  

"He's strong, but the nylon is stronger.  He won't be able to
hurt himself further, but I want the Nurse to make sure he didn't
do any real damage.  Now go and do as I asked."

Jane turned to Maria.  "Get some towels, hot water, bandages and
antiseptic, Maria.  Let's get him cleaned up as best we can."

Suddenly she was alone with him.  Gradually, he stopped
struggling, and the soul deep, racking sobs diminished to silent
tears.  Gathering her courage, Jane moved over to take a seat
beside the bed.  When she finally spoke, all she could think to
say was "Why?"

Michael's hairless brows rose in feigned surprise, and then he
turned his head away from her.  "You will tell me, Michael." she
said with a calm she was far from feeling.

Anger flared in the eyes that turned back to lock on her own. 
"Or what, Jane?  What do you have to threaten me with?  I will
tell you - nothing."

"Are you so certain of that?" she asked, hoping to bait him into
keeping talking.

"When you have decided to die, Jane, there is not much else you
have to fear, is there?  It's not like your threat to pass around
those damnable photos at St. Andrews has any bite if I don't
intend to live long enough to return there, does it?" was his
emotion-hoarse response.

Jane swallowed, trying to control her fear and give some
semblance of her normal command presence and confidence.  "They
say that suicide is a very permanent solution to temporary
problems, Michael.  This," and she waved her hand about to
indicate the still feminine surroundings of the bedroom, "*will*
pass.  My little girls *do* graduate and go back to their lives."

"Do. . . they . . . really?" he flashed back, sarcasm dripping
off each deliberately spoken syllable.  "Are they *really* living
*their* lives, Jane?  Or are they merely existing in the lives
that *you* have dictated for them with your . . . program?"  The
last word came out with a loathing that made Jane wince.  "Well,
I don't want that life.  I want the life I had, the life I had
planed for myself, and today I realized that I never would have
it again. Some of your changes are just as irreversible as you
promised they'd be and I will *never* be the man I *should* have
been. . . because of YOU!" that last word was a shriek of pain
and rage.  He fought for control and then continued.  "So I
decided that I would do the only thing you'd left me.  I would at
least die like a man."

"I take exception to that, Michael."  Her voice became hard again
as she rose to defend her students and herself.   "*Every* . . .
*single* . . . *one* of *my* boys have  gone on to lead happy,
productive lives.  I keep in touch with all of them.  Most of
them even remember my birthday and send me holiday gifts.  They
have become doctors, teachers, scientists and police officers.
Does that sound like they are so diminished by their experiences
with me?"  Keep him talking, she told herself. Maybe he can talk
himself out of this.

"It is not going to work, Jane.  I am getting out of this the
only way I can.  You can't keep me restrained forever. 
Eventually I will succeed and I will destroy you in the doing of
it.  Some agency ought to get you for abuse of a minor.  Maybe I
will even get *really* lucky and some of those bitches who aid
and abet you in your vicious little games will go down, too."

"You will hurt Beth, I mean David - that's his real name - very
badly as well if you do that." she said softly.  "Personally as
well as professionally.  He cares about you so his unwilling part
in this will be emotionally devastating for him.  Even if he
manages to recover from that trauma, the truth about how he has
lived for the past months will destroy whatever professional
future he might have had.  Not to mention what it might do to the
other boys I have trained over the years, none of whom have ever
done you any harm."

"Go to hell, Jane.  If she or *he* cared so damned much about me,
he'd have warned me about what you were planning.  Had I known
what you were *really* going to do to me, I probably would have
actually taken you up on your offer to leave here, even dressed
in those damned petticoats of yours."

"He had no choice, Michael, perhaps even less than you had.  I
hold his freedom in my hands.  One word from me and he goes to
jail."

"Maybe he'd be better off there.  At least there, he'd be treated
like a man!  Learn how to be a *man* again instead of the wimpy
caricature of a man *you* envision." was the sharp retort.

Jane closed her eyes in pain, knowing the boy was really
attacking her and not Beth/David.  "Even if we undid everything
we have done to him to the best of our ability, he'd still be
very feminine looking when he arrived at prison, Michael.  Do you
know what happens to effeminate young men in prison?"  

She hoped he would relent under that threat, but he quickly
dashed those.  "That is your decision, Jane, not mine.  Besides,
that seems to be the ultimate expression of your so-called
method.  Why *not* get the kid raped?  Isn't that the ultimate
feminine humiliation experience?"

Stunned in shock at his words, Jane's mind failed her.  She could
only stare in helpless confusion at the once again struggling
young man before her.  Her mouth opened and closed, but no words
formed in her mind, no sounds issued forth.

A hand gently shook her out of her fugue and she looked up to see
Maria with a tray of medical supplies.  "Let me take care of
this, Jane.  Beth needs you now." she said in her matter of fact
voice as she set the tray down on the bedside table.

Slowly, painfully, Jane rose from her chair and went to check on
the other casualty of this suddenly terrible day.

A Losing Season: Chapter 2.  Damage Control

Jane found Beth in her room, sitting rigidly erect on an antique
straight back chair, her hands busily crumpling a hankie, her
face a frozen mask of fear and worry.  Jane moved to the chair
and clumsily pulled her up into her arms.  Clumsily because, as
she suddenly realized in a flash of pain, it was the first time
she had ever comforted one of her petticoated charges.  Maria or
the other sissy in residence had always had that duty, freeing
Jane to be the "bad one".  Even the young man whose mother had
died during his stay at the large Victorian mansion had not
turned to her for solace.  Fortunately, he'd been at the end of
his time with her, anyway.

"David." she said firmly, using his masculine name to cut through
his misery.  "Come downstairs with me.  We need to wait for Mrs.
Bedford."

The boy with the girl's face looked up at her use of the name,
the mascara and other cosmetics streaming down his cheeks.  A
trickle of blood from her nostril and the beginnings of a bruise
on her cheek bore testament to the physical damage that had
accompanied the emotional trauma suffered by this young person
given into her care and keeping. "All right, Jane." he said
softly, hiccuping back an incipient sob.

The doorbell rang as they reached the bottom of the staircase. 
Jane opened the door and directed the nurse to her unwilling
patient.  Then she led her other charge into the study and poured
two snifters of brandy, offering one to the slowly calming Beth.

Beth hesitated before taking the snifter.  "That stuff is a big
part of why I was sent here, Jane." she said uncertainly.

Jane snorted.  "That is all you will get, David, so that won't be
a problem here, but you need something.  I know I do." and she
took a swallow of the dark amber spirit.  Hesitantly, David
followed her example and started coughing as the fiery liquid
burned to his stomach.  "It is a little strong, dear.  Try
sipping it until you get used to it."  Jane said kindly.

Beth watched her, somewhat warily.  While he hadn't heard all of
Jane's part of the "conversation", he had heard Michael's end of
Jane's abortive attempt to "talk him down".  That comment about
"learning to be a man" followed shortly by "rape" and "Isn't that
the ultimate feminine experience. . " had David/Beth badly
shaken.  She could only think of one subject of conversation that
could have led to that exchange.  He really did not want to go to
jail, not after already having spent almost five months under
Jane's petticoat tyranny.  Hadn't he already paid enough for that
childish stupidity?

"I take it, Jane, that you told Michael part of my story?" she
asked, very softly.

Jane nodded and moved to the desk where she picked up the
telephone.  "Yes, I did, and now, I regret having done that." 
She punched out a number from memory.  It wasn't difficult to
remember the number she'd called several times in the past few
days.  "Hello, Caro?  Yes, it's me.  Look, I need you and Sandra
over here immediately.  I have a major emergency and I need your
help."  She paused, obviously listening to the other person.  "I
understand, Carolyn, but this is truly an emergency.  No, I
cannot discuss it over the phone, but I am not exaggerating when
I say it is life or death."  Another short pause followed by Jane
saying "Thanks, Caro.  Bring your tear down kit, please.  See you
soon."

Just then, Mrs. Bedford came into the study, her face grim.  "I
gave him a sedative I am not supposed to have, Jane, and  I have
patched him up as best I can. He's asleep now with Maria sitting
with him for the moment.  Now what the hell happened?"

Jane offered her a brandy which the nurse declined. 

"Obviously, Michael, my newest project, snapped.  We went out
today for his first feminine day at the mall - beauty shop,
clothes shopping, dodging boys - you know the drill.  We got back
home and I sent him up to put away his new things and to give him
a little time to deal with what had been a very emotional, very
humiliating day.  Then he did not return immediately and I sent
Beth up to fetch him down.  She caught him trying to slit his
wrists after he had finished the other damage to himself and to
the new clothes you saw up there.  If she'd been two minutes
later, he'd probably be dead now."

No one spoke after that dreadful statement.  Then Jane looked
over and saw the blood still weeping down Beth's cheek and asked
the nurse to check her over. 

"She'll have a bit of a shiner by tomorrow morning.  Doubt even
Maria's artistry will be able to hide it, but otherwise, she'll
be fine."

"Thanks, Nora." Jane said.  "As to hiding it, by tomorrow, that
won't be a problem." she finished with a sad sigh.

Now, Nora did go over and help herself to a brandy before turning
back to face Jane.  "What now?  That boy needs professional help. 
I have a few more sleeping pills, but what I saw up there is not
something that is going to fix itself after a good night's sleep. 
Unless he wasn't really trying to kill himself and it is just an
attempt to get cut loose from here?"  The last was a question.

Both Beth and Jane shook their heads.  "Maybe he will, after some
time, see that as a mistake, but he would already be dead if Beth
had not gone up when she did."

"He was serious, Mrs. Bedford.  He was fighting me so hard, that
if I had let go of that arm, he wouldn't have been able to stop
himself from plunging the blade into his wrist.  I don't think he
was faking it."  Beth added somberly.

"Then he needs help, Jane.  Where does that leave you?"

"In great trouble, Nora.  If I take him to the hospital in that
condition, social services will become involved at the very
least, and they will surely call in the police.  Who knows where
it will go from there?  I have temporary legal guardianship of
him, but who knows what will happen when they see him in that
condition and hear what he has to say?"

"Too bad he did not say it to you first." the nurse mused as she
took a sip of her drink.

Beth snorted derisively.  "As if she'd have listened."

Jane paled at that direct hit, but then nodded her head, her eyes
closed against the hurt.  "True, Beth.  I probably would not have
heard her complaints as anything beyond what any of my other
students have said for effect and not really meant."  

Moving slowly, as if burdened by a huge weight, Jane reached in
and pulled out what appeared to be a photo album or scrap book. 
Idly, she began flipping through its pages, stopping to read a
note here or to enjoy some little memory there.  When she looked
up, she saw the other two looking at her strangely.  A weary
smile crossed her lips.  "My rogue's gallery." she said holding
up the book.  "My little black book of former students.  I will
have to warn them of this pending breach of my security so that
they can distance themselves from me as much as the press will
allow.  I will then destroy this book and hope, but the way
things happen in the tabloids these days, I suspect that more
than a few of my girls will find themselves plastered across the
front page of the National Inquirer right along side of me."

She opened the book again, and then set it down.  She looked at
the entry on one page and then began hastily punching out numbers
on the phone.  A woman answered.  "May I please speak with Dr.
Davis, please?  This is Jane Thompson calling and it is very
important. . . . .Yes, I would say it was an emergency.  Please
interrupt the Doctor."  There was a long pause before "Eric?!? 
Oh thank God.  Dear, I really need your help. . . .Yes, one of my
girls attempted suicide and I don't know what to do.  She needs
help, but you know what is likely to happen when I take her in. 
You can?  Oh thank you.  Yes, I will have someone meet you at the
airport."

She hung up and said.  "One of my students is now a clinical
psychologist in Chicago.  He is going to come and see if there is
anything we can do for Michael short of putting him into a
hospital."

"And if he can't help him?" Nora asked.

"Then, Michael goes into the hospital and I, in all probability,
will go to jail.  He is still a minor and someone will decide
that my treatment of him constitutes abuse."

"Even though other students of yours may not agree?" Beth asked,
quite surprising Jane with her near championship.

She could only shake her head sadly.  "By the time the press is
done with this, dear, you will all be brainwashed puppets and I
will be the most perverted, vicious bitch this side of the German
Gestapo.  Nothing any of us have to say will stand against the
pictures of Michael that are sure to make the nationwide news
services."

Just then, the bell rang and Beth rose to answer the door.  It
was Carolyn and Sandy.  "Damn, Beth" was the irreverent Sandra's
greeting, "What the hell have you done to all of my excellent
work?  You look like hell."

"And that is not half as bad as what Michael looks like, Sandy."
was Jane's response to her friend.

"What did he do?  I know we were a little rough on him today, but
hell, Jane, he asked for it." was Sandy's complained defensively. 
"Is that why we are here with the tear down kits?  You've decided
he is a lost cause and are shipping him off home in disgrace? 
Never heard of you giving up on a kid before, Jane."

"No." was the simple one word answer.  The chill in the room
brought even Sandy up short.  Quickly, Jane told the increasingly
horror-stricken women what had happened.

"And he is going to try to force what you do into the open with
his suicide?" Carolyn asked, speaking for the first time.  At
Jane's nod, she wilted into a chair.  "It will pull us out into
the open, as well.  We probably won't have a business after that
happens. What Newport society type is going to want such evil
people doing up their hair or teaching their daughters?"

Jane nodded.  "I know.  I have always known that there was a
possibility of such a happenstance, but never thought it very
probable.  The boys always saw public exposure as a far greater
threat to themselves, never seeing the threat it could be to me,
so I have always discounted this ever happening."

"Until now." Caro responded tonelessly.  "Well, you had better
warn Betty Franson, too, because I know you were taking him there
today, and she enjoys playing her little games as much as we do. 
Or as much as we did." she added ruefully. "Doesn't seem like
much fun, right now."

Jane nodded her agreement and then Sandy asked.  "Well, why are
we here, then, if not to undo Michael, Jane?"

"To undo Beth, Sandy." Jane said firmly.  "He, and my other
students, are the really guiltless ones in this debacle. 
Tomorrow morning, Eric Davis whom you may remember as Erica when
he was with me . . ."

"The slim, green-eyed redhead who we punished by turning her hair
carrot orange?" Sandy asked gleefully before she recalled the
problem at hand.

"Yes, that is her, I mean, him.  He is coming in on a flight from
Chicago tomorrow morning.  I will get David tickets home and he
can drive my car up to the airport, give the keys to Eric and
make his own escape."

Carolyn nodded her understanding.  "Okay, where do we set up? 
The usual place?"  Jane nodded.

"Ummm. . .Jane?  Could we do this tomorrow?  I am beat and I
don't feel well.  If I have to face Sandy and her noxious
chemicals, I am liable to get really sick." Beth asked
plaintively.

Jane shrugged and turned to Sandy and Carolyn.  "It will have to
be early because the flight arrives at eight am, and it is a one
hour drive to the airport."

"I'll stay the night, Jane." Sandra offered.  "The tear down is
mostly my end of the shop anyway.  Caro can come here in time to
do the brow thickening and the other little cosmetic touch ups."

"Thank you." Jane said.  "Well, since Maria is watching Michael,
I will go see about some dinner."

"If it is all the same to you, Jane, I am going to go up to bed. 
I am not very hungry." Beth said firmly.

"All right, Beth.  Please be up by five so that Sandy will have
time to do what must be done."  The feminized male nodded, and
then made his way haltingly up to the top of the stairs and then
to his room.  The four women heard the door close.

End Part I


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