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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008.  Please
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Larry's Got A Girlfriend
by Donna Baker (address withheld)

***

A mature lady takes an interest in a young lad and 
helps him see how beautiful her is. (F/m, ped, cd, tg)

***

I

"My dad's a union man, and he's gonna vote for 
Kennedy," argued Randy.

"Baloney!" Mike always had an answer. "My old man 
showed me a book where it says Kennedy's a communist! 
If Nixon doesn't win, the whole army'll kill Kennedy 
and all the communists and everybody, and he'll be 
President, anyway! What do you know! You're only in 
sixth grade!"

"Well, I'm in eighth, and..." Larry started.

"Aw, shut up, sissy!" yelled Mike, and the others 
quickly chimed in, Randy loudest of all. Larry just 
stopped and turned his back to them. They left after a 
minute, laughing while they walked. He tried to 
remember what his mom had told him, that they just 
called him a sissy because they knew it made him cry. 
He knew he wasn't a sissy! Why did they keep saying it?

Larry chose to take the short cut home, the one through 
the little three-story professional office building, to 
avoid further teasing from his classmates. He knew the 
path through the lobby, out the back, and over the 
fence to his own block.

As he passed under the lobby stairs, he looked up at 
the sounds of footsteps in the otherwise empty room. An 
attractive woman had stopped about five steps from the 
top, going through her purse and mumbling to herself. 
That's one reason he liked this short cut; there were 
plenty of "real pretty ladies" there, ladies who wore 
stylish dresses and high-heeled shoes and lots of 
makeup, just like on TV.

He approached the stairs quietly, and more than a 
little fearfully. She was standing right by the rail, 
and the lad realized that his every step closer to her 
let him see further up her dress!

The awestruck boy just stood there, staring up. Her 
lightweight wool circle skirt swished and swayed around 
her legs with her least movement. Larry could see her 
slip beneath it, and was surprised that it wasn't 
white, like his mom's slips, but beige, with a frilly 
lace hem. Her shoes were remarkably tall, with narrow 
spike heels more than four inches high. They were the 
highest heels he'd ever seen! They were exactly the 
same yellow color as her sweater. Her hair was blond 
and long, and flowed in counterpoint to her skirt when 
she'd turn her head.

When she bent over to pick up a box, he thought for a 
second she'd seen him. He ducked under the stairs and 
held his breath as long as he could. He knew he 
shouldn't be peeking like this, but it really was an 
accident, and anyway, it wasn't his fault if he just 
stood there, was it?

After a few more agonizing seconds without hearing 
anything from above him, he stuck his head tentatively 
out from the shadows, scanned the empty room, and 
looked up, again. This time, he was really surprised. 
The woman had put one foot up on the next higher step, 
resting the box on her knee to look through it. Larry 
could see farther than ever up her skirt!

The boy was entranced with the feminine vision thus 
displayed. The long curve of her sheerly clad leg was 
visible right up to the darker shade of her stocking 
tops. He didn't really understand why, but looking up 
into the inviting lace and nylon cavern somehow made 
his penis crawl inside his shorts, like when his dad 
drove over a bump in the car when he wasn't expecting 
it.

When the woman turned and walked down the stairs, he 
suddenly started walking too, as if he'd just come in. 
He was blushing bright red, afraid he'd been 
discovered, but she gave no indication. She walked 
straight back to the door, about three steps ahead of 
him. As he followed her, Larry studied her magnificent 
derriere, appreciating it on a subliminal level. The 
enticing roll of her hips was pretty, not lewd, to a 
boy who still didn't fully comprehend the facts of 
life. He attributed it to her high heels. Thinking 
about the slip and stockings under those swaying globes 
kept his bug feeling "funny."

They got to the door, and she stopped. She looked right 
at him, and smiled her warmest, biggest smile. "Could I 
persuade a handsome gentleman like you to help me get 
this box of music out to my car?" she asked. Somehow, 
she sounded like she really meant the "gentleman" part; 
she wasn't making fun of him, like the boys had been.

"Sure, Ma'am!" he said, trying to use a real deep voice 
so he'd sound older. He took the box and backed through 
the door, holding it open for her.

"It's Miss, and thank you!" she nodded. She sidled 
through the door with her breasts pointing right at 
him, almost grazing his chest! She was as old as his 
mother, but her carefully painted face mesmerized the 
boy. Her eyebrows were sculpted to perfection, her 
pouty lips painted bright red, and the dose of perfume 
she'd added on the stairs overwhelmed his senses.

He dropped the box in her trunk and then ran around to 
open her car door. He wasn't at all prepared for her 
next move -- she leaned forward and kissed him on the 
forehead! As she swept past to climb into her car, her 
sweater-covered breast brushed his shoulder, and when 
she sat, her skirt slid up to reveal her tawny stocking 
tops.

Larry's whole body "felt funny" now, not just his 
penis!

He just stood there, looking at her legs. He didn't 
want her to leave, or even move, not for ever and ever! 
"Uh, that was a box of music?" he mumbled, praying 
she'd stay for just a second more.

"Yes," she smiled, and opened her purse. "I teach 
piano. Do you play?"

"No, Ma'am... I mean, Miss. I used to, but..." He 
trailed off as he recognized the little round black and 
silver garter doohickie that held up her stockings. 
He'd seen his mom's a few times.

The door closed without her ever pulling down her 
skirt.

She reached out the window. "Here's my card. Perhaps 
your parents will let you take lessons." Larry watched 
her all the way out the driveway. She waved at him 
before she pulled out into the street! He waved back, 
numbly.

When he turned around, there were Mike and Randy and 
the other boys. They started sing-songing, "Larry's got 
a girlfriend! Larry's got a girlfriend!" and laughing 
and pointing at him. That's when he figured out that 
she'd left a lipstick mark on his forehead! He turned 
and ran away, jumping over the fence. He took a moment 
to catch his breath, determined to remember every 
single instant of his rapturous encounter with the most 
beautiful woman in the world!

He floated all the way home, stopping to touch his 
forehead every few steps. He could see a little bit of 
pink on his fingertip. Sure, the boys' teasing had hurt 
him. But, it was worth it!


II

"Miss Dorothy Glamis, private piano lessons," the card 
said. All of a sudden, music was the most important 
thing in Larry's world!

His mom had arranged piano lessons when he was younger, 
but "the stupid teacher got mad at me for no reason," 
and suspended the lessons, which was just fine with 
Larry. She was skeptical when he suddenly wanted to 
become a young Van Cliburn, but a thirteen-year-old can 
be pretty persuasive to a mother who loves him. "I know 
a lots better teacher than old Mrs. Moore," he told 
her. It took two weeks, but he got his way. Larry could 
hardly wait for his first lesson.

Dorothy was equally excited! She'd stopped on those 
office stairs hoping to catch a man, preferably in the 
vulnerable 45-55 range, and one with money, to boot. 
The real estate offices downstairs were well-stocked 
with them. Instead, she had found an exquisitely 
beautiful boy peeking peeking up her dress, and on the 
spur of the moment, had vamped him.

Until his mother had called her to arrange lessons, she 
hadn't given the boy any further thought. She had never 
tried to mix her music with The Cause. The Cause she'd 
devoted her life to.

Revenge on the world of men!

It suddenly dawned upon her the day after she'd agreed 
to take him on on as another student. She had here a 
chance to make up for some of the jerks who had used 
her talent and her desire for success as nothing more 
than a tool to get into her pants. She had it well 
within her power to save the world from one more 
selfish, domineering, insensitive, arrogant male beast.

She could transform the little snot into a woman!

When she opened her front door for his first lesson, he 
almost peed his pants! It was just a shirtdress, but it 
was made of shiny red nylon, belted around a waist so 
tiny he could have closed his hands around it. More 
importantly, though, the shirt front was open, 
displaying a cleavage that would have stunned any man!

The dress wrapped around her globes like slick red 
gloves, squeezing her heavy breasts until they bulged 
from between her lapels. Her skirt flowed outward from 
her tiny waist over layers of petticoats that swished 
loudly as she walked.

He just stood there, staring at her bodice. She spoke 
gently, inviting him in, then asked him about school 
and home. Before long, he relaxed enough to respond. 
He'd never met a woman so pretty, nor one so nice to 
him!

She led him to the piano -- a big, shiny black upright 
with a mirror across the front. She set out the same 
beginner's book Mrs. Moore had used, and had him show 
her what he'd learned. It wasn't much.

"This is the beginners' method I like to teach from," 
she said, and put down a short little green book in 
front of his old tall one.

He tried the first couple of exercises, but they were 
too hard.

"Maybe the old book is distracting you," she said, and 
took it away.

Over the top of the little book, he could see himself 
in the mirror.

And next to him, he could see Miss Glamis -- just from 
her chin down. She was standing behind him, and her 
jugs were hanging right over his shoulder!

It was several long seconds before she stepped aside so 
he could no longer see her, and several more before he 
recovered enough to try the piano, again.

He couldn't get enough of her as she moved in and out 
of his line of sight! At first, he tried not to look, 
but then he realized that, since the mirror cut off his 
view of her face, she couldn't see his either, so he 
experimented more boldly with his stares. As she gave 
no sign of noticing his interest in her breasts, he 
concluded that she didn't know he was ogling her almost 
constantly between exercises.

The book was really tough, but he was absolutely 
determined to play his best. He didn't even consciously 
realize why he was suddenly trying so hard, but Dorothy 
knew! Whenever he'd make mistakes or let his attention 
wander, she would step out of his view. When he did it 
right, she'd snuggle up close, so that he could feel 
her big fluffy skirt pressing against his elbow, and 
see her enormous bustline filling the mirror.

With that incentive, she was confident the boy would 
make rapid progress, indeed!

And when it was finally time to go, she bestowed upon 
him the grandest prize he could imagine -- another 
kiss!


III

Dorothy watched him carefully as she opened the door 
for his second lesson, noting that his eyes were much 
more interested in her silky white blouse than in the 
way her pencil-slim skirt hugged her full thighs.

"We're going to duet, today," she announced, and sat 
right next to him on the bench. Her cool sleeve 
constantly tickled his arm as they played. With her 
body so close, he couldn't help but look right down 
into the deep V of her decolletage, where he caught 
occasional glimpses of the delicate white lace that 
cupped her warm treasures.

The lad honestly didn't associate the sight of her 
flesh with sex, per se; he just knew that Dorothy was 
beautiful, and that he felt really funny every time her 
bra showed. Pretty soon, he was so worked up he 
couldn't function any longer. He just sat there, his 
wide eyes drowning in the depths of her bosom.

She cleared her throat, causing her breast flesh to 
jiggle, but also shaking Larry from his reverie. He 
looked up into Dorothy's eyes, and saw immediately that 
she knew he'd been staring at her breasts.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" he cried, quickly turning white, 
then red, as he dropped his head in shame. "I'm stupid! 
stupid! stupid!" he thought to himself. "I shouldn't 
start at her like a maniac! She'll throw me out, or 
have me arrested!"

"What's wrong, Larry," she solicited, reaching down and 
taking his sweaty hand between hers.

"I'm sorry, Miss Glamis," he said, the tears starting 
to flow. "I was staring at your titties... I mean... 
Oh, Jeeze! I'm sorry! I..."

"Calm down, sweetheart!" she cooed, smoothing his hair. 
"It's all right, I understand!"

Between sobs, he managed to look up, again. Her 
friendly smile reassured him. "You mean, you're not mad 
at me?"

"Just because you think I'm pretty? You can't help 
looking at me when I wear something this nice. I wore 
this just for you, Larry. It makes me feel very 
feminine when a young man admires my appearance. Do you 
think I'm pretty, Larry?"

"Oh, God, Miss Glamis! You're the prettiest woman in 
the world!" She smiled disbelievingly, coaxing another 
complement from him. "No, really! You're the prettiest 
woman I ever knew. Ever! You're even prettier than Mrs. 
Hampton, that used to teach seventh grade math, and all 
the guys said she musta been a movie star, once!"

"I'm sorry if it disturbs you when my arm touches 
yours, but that always happens when we play duets."

"No, that's OK!" he protested. "I think it feels neat."

"Really?"

"Really!" he enthused. "It so soft, and slidey, and... 
you know!"

"I certainly do! It's wonderful to be a girl and feel 
pretty clothes against your skin all day." She said, 
stroking her own arm. "I'm very lucky."

"Yeah." Larry suddenly looked sad. "It's not fair."

It was fortunate that Larry had dropped his dejected 
gaze, for even he would have noticed the slow blinking 
of Dorothy's big, brown eyes as she struggled to 
control herself.

"Perhaps... No, it wouldn't work."

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. I was just trying to think of something 
so my blouse wouldn't bother you, but I couldn't very 
well take it off, could I?"

"Oh, no!" he responded quickly. He honestly had not 
imagined her without her clothes.

"Of course, I couldn't! But I just thought that maybe, 
if you had something similar to wear, then mine 
wouldn't bother you so much. I'd change to something 
rough, like your shirt, but I just don't have anything 
like that! Oh, well, you wouldn't want to wear 
something soft and feminine like this, anyway, even if 
it was really a boy's shirt."

"You mean you've got a boy's shirt made out of this 
kind of stuff?" he asked, pointing to her sleeve.

Within another minute, both of them were shivering as 
Larry slid his naked torso into a cool, slick white 
silk blouse. Dorothy fastened the buttons down his 
chest so he wouldn't notice they were on the wrong 
side.

Suddenly all business, Dorothy led him back to the 
keyboard. It was all she could do to finish the lesson 
without grabbing him and smothering his face in her 
bosom! For Larry, the hour seemed to be over before it 
had started. He stalled as long as possible until she 
pulled the lovely blouse from his narrow shoulders.

"See you next week," she smiled after planting a longer 
and wetter kiss than before upon his forehead.

He almost forget to wipe it off before he got home.


IV

She had not anticipated the rapidity of the child's 
enslavement to her beauty, and it made her all the 
hungrier. She suspected correctly from his obvious 
innocence that he had never even masturbated, much less 
experimented with girls his own age. That very 
innocence would have tickled her sense of decency 
enough for her to release him, had it not also tickled 
her sexuality. She was as much trapped by her passions 
as he was.

Larry heard her playing when he rang the bell. "Come on 
in and sit down," he heard her shout.

He didn't recognize the Debussy, but the sensual 
strains could not help but relax him as he admired her 
skill. He saw immediately that she was wearing the same 
blouse as last time, and dared to hope she would loan 
him the matching boy's one, again. His penis started 
crawling as his wandering gaze picked up the silky 
white garment on a hanger over the door to the kitchen. 
He wished he could see her pretty face in the piano 
mirror, but the music was in the way.

She held down the last soft, delicious chord for 
several long seconds after the sound stopped, 
anticipating the pleasure to come. A wooden "thunk" 
sounded as she released the ivories and spun to face 
her prey.

His open-jawed stare was everything she had hoped for. 
She had applied full stage makeup, today, as if ready 
for the Hollywood Bowl! Her brows were penciled in an 
upswept arc, her cheeks ruddy, and her features 
emphasized with unsubtle shading. Her eyes were 
resplendent with heavy blue shadow and white 
highlights, black liner, and enormous false lashes. Her 
lips had been enlarged with the careful application of 
several shades of liner and paint, with a film of 
glycerine to keep them sparkling-moist. Knowing that 
nothing was too outrageous for the inexperienced boy, 
she had even indulged in a beauty mark!

"Are you ready for duet practice?" she asked while 
retrieving the spare blouse.

"I said, are you ready?" she repeated, holding it open 
for him.

"Uh, yeah... I'm sorry," he mumbled. It took him some 
time to unfasten his own shirt, as he was unable to 
tear his eyes away from his enamorata. She simply 
smiled, and let him drink his fill while she buttoned 
up his blouse.

Of course, he could not begin to concentrate after they 
sat down. Try as he might, he could not lower his eyes 
from the mirror to the lesson book.

"You're beautiful!" he sighed.

"You haven't seen stage makeup, before, have you 
Larry?"

"Huh?"

She suppressed a giggle, then explained. "I've got a 
performance, tonight, after your lesson, so I put on my 
stage makeup early. Everyone who performs has to put on 
lots of makeup. Otherwise, the bright lights make you 
look like a blob of dough."

She was lying about the performance, of course. Her 
career in this city had ended the moment she had landed 
her pointed toe in the crotch of the unashamed lech who 
presided over the Symphonic Association.

She repeated herself. He had not picked up her 
suggestion, the first time. "Even the men and boys have 
to wear makeup on stage, Larry."

"You're beautiful!" he repeated.

"Why, thank you, you're very sweet!" Undaunted, she 
tried once again.

"You know, a pianist has to wear makeup on stage when 
she performs.

You'll be up there, some day, too."

He looked momentarily puzzled. Was he...

"You mean I'll have to wear makeup, too?"

SHE HAD HIM!

"Of course, you will, sweetheart." She forced herself 
to stay calm. "It's not a sissy thing, at all. You 
know, Roy Rogers and Gene Autry wear makeup when they 
make their films."

"Really?"

"Come on with me, I'll show you." She arose, took his 
hand, and led him into her bedroom.

He hardly noticed the frilly pink lace decor of her 
boudoir, intent as he was on her overwhelming presence. 
The whole time she worked on his face, she kept a 
monologue running to distract him. He was perfectly 
happy to sit passively, while she applied the contents 
of one mysterious bottle or jar after another. The 
shiny little black mole glued to her cheek was the sun 
around which his eyes orbited. They watched her 
glistening lips work, and wondered at her fluttering 
lashes, but always returned home to the artificial 
beauty spot.

"There!" she announced, as she pinned a chignon to the 
back of his head and applied a final heavy dose of hair 
spray. That broke his attention from her face.

"What are you doing?" he finally questioned.

"Thank God he didn't have it in a butch!" she thought 
to herself. "I don't know if I could have gotten a wig 
on him!"

"All done!" she said aloud, and spun him to face the 
mirror before he could realize that she had been doing 
more than he imagined.

She leaned over slightly, so she could support his 
suddenly-weak shoulders. Her smile was radiant, and his 
totally blank.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she gushed. "We're twins!"

In the mirror, Larry saw not one, but two incredibly 
beautiful women.

He realized that one of them was himself.

And he liked it!


V

"I'm beautiful, too!" he whispered.

"Even more beautiful than me!" she cooed. She thought 
she was lying, but an impartial witness might well have 
agreed.

His hand reached up to touch his face, but she stopped 
him. "Careful, you mustn't smear it."

His mouth finally closed. "Do you think you can try a 
smile?" she said playfully. 

He tried. His soft, brown eyes got suddenly bigger. He 
spun to face her and almost shouted, "Miss Glamis, I'm 
beautiful! I'm beautiful!"

Dorothy pulled herself back suddenly and shot a look to 
the ceiling, trying desperately to hold herself 
together. Larry hardly noticed. He had jumped up to put 
his face up close to the mirror. "I'm even prettier 
than Linda Perry, and she's the prettiest girl in the 
eighth grade!" he squealed.

It was better than she had planned, better than she 
could have imagined.

Her program for the boy suddenly expanded tenfold!

"Let's go back to the piano, Larry." She tried to take 
his hand.

"No!" he pulled away, returning to the mirror. "I want 
to look some more!"

"You can look in the piano, sweetheart! Now come on, 
and let's get some lessons in!" She maintained her 
cheerful disposition, and didn't show a trace of 
impatience.

And now, to her astonishment, Larry tackled the lessons 
vigorously, instead of lolling and staring at the 
mirror. He accomplished more in the next twenty minutes 
than he normally would have in the whole hour!

Larry's glowing face glanced upwards frequently, 
basking in their reflections, but his primary focus was 
on the music. She could only shake her head, and defer 
her planning for his future while she scrambled to keep 
ahead of him in the music lesson. It was not until 
alarm clock signaled the end of his time that she 
remembered it would take at least fifteen minutes to 
cleanse the child's face.

"Promise we'll do this again, next time!" he pleaded as 
she flushed the cold cream off with the water gun from 
the kitchen sink. She called his mother to apologize 
for the lesson running over while he toweled off. She 
was startled when she turned around to find him wearing 
the blouse!

"Can I wear this home?" he asked hopefully. That took 
her aback, but just for a moment.

"Certainly, Larry," she smiled, thinking frantically. 
What were his friends' names? The ones he talked about 
who had teased him?

"I'm so happy for you, Larry! Mike and Randy will 
really be surprised when the see how pretty you are!"

In an instant, his face matched the show-white blouse 
perfectly. "Um, maybe I better not wear this home, Miss 
Glamis. I better just wear my shirt, you know?"

"Certainly, darling, whatever you want. Let me help you 
with your boy-things."

He wouldn't be telling!

After he left, she pondered the speed of his 
transformation. It had literally taken her breath away! 
"Damn it, Dorothy!" she chuckled. "You're a genius!"

She was too proud of herself, too full of dreams of 
revenge, and too much a slave to ignorance, to realize 
the truth. On his very next visit, she decided, she 
would have him in frilly undies, hose, heels, falsies, 
and skirt. And on the visit after that -- anything!

The woman was so wrapped up in her plans, she couldn't 
see the truth. She thought she was weaving an evil net 
around the boy to drag him into degradation.

And while it was true that she was starting inexcusably 
early, tampering where she didn't belong, it was also 
true that she was liberating him. She was saving him.

For all the wrong reasons, Dorothy was giving Larry a 
chance that very few of his generation received. A 
chance at an adolescence and adulthood that would 
bypass a mountain of confusion, self-loathing, physical 
and mental abuse -- and possibly, suicide.

A chance to become the woman that God had intended!

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 58