Sweet Pauly Purebred

My heart was fluttering. I almost laughed at myself. A creeping Tom snuck pictures of me in school-girl drag and now wanted me to tell 'her' what to wear for the next perv session without her knowing about it. And I reacted like he'd brought me flowers.

"What didn't you like?"

"What?" He sounded startled. "What do you mean?"

"What didn't you like about her outfit, since she has to get a new one for you?" Hearing him off guard gave me confidence. I felt a little tiny bit of Roxie's 'what are you lookin' at?' attitude flow through me.

"It's not...it was perfect. I just wanted..." I enjoyed his stumble. It was a first hint of the power I've learned to embrace since then: Petite Pauly's Pretty Power.

In the dark I stood away from the counter, my hands on my slim boy's hips as they cocked to one side in the darkness. I could almost feel the skirt I had worn yesterday swish with my hips.

"Tell me what you wanted." My voice wasn't low or deep - it never will or has been - but it was confident. It was the first time her voice came out of me. What I would eventually know was the voice of the exotic Sweet Pauly Purebred.

"Please don't think I meant she didn't look beautiful yesterday. I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful girl."

He called me beautiful! He'd never seen such beauty. It couldn't all be Roxie's make-up. My insides did a dance, but her voice came out like a well chilled cucumber. "That's not what you wanted, is it?"

"No. Yes. I want to see her again. As many ways as I can. I thought maybe she should wear something different. Most girls do."

"What did you like?"

"What didn't I like?" He giggled, fast and nervous. "She's perfect."

I heard a catch in his voice as though her wanted to continue. I maintained my silence and let the darkness work it's magic.

"I bet she'd look even better in high heels. I liked seeing her legs. They deserved to be showcased."

My cheeks warmed, flush in the dark, my heart loud in my ears. I was breathing hard enough that I had opened my mouth. I feared he would hear that much air passing through my nose as I struggled not to pant.

"What time Sunday?" I heard his gasp. He wasn't sure I'd agree. So I added: "This one Sunday only."

"Eleven?"

I let the darkness answer for a moment. "She'll be there. Probably with a friend."

"No probably. Bring her. Don't come alone." He sounded urgent.

I felt a twinge of jealousy. "Oh yeah? You like Roxie, huh?"

"No!" It wasn't angry, but it was passioned. "Roxie...protects her. Roxie keeps her safe. She shouldn't go out alone. She didn't see how...some people looked at her."

I ran out, struggling for a moment with the heavy door, pushing through the heavy curtains as tears started to flow. I wiped my eyes with the back of my wrist.

What the fuck was wrong with me? The guy who wants to hide and take pictures of me in drag doesn't like the way other guys look at me. And my response is to get weak-kneed and ready to pull the petals out of those imaginary flowers he brought to see if he loved me or not. What a pathetic little girl!

I pushed into the Boy's Restroom, rinsed my face. A little girl looked back at me from the mirror, but not pathetic at all. Her wet hair was spiked up and her eyes had a glistening light to them. She was hot. And size is only one kind of little.

The whole encounter in the darkroom hadn't taken long, so I still arrived at Roxie's about the usual time. Skipping the madhouse of the home proper, I headed up the outside stairs to the garage apartment Roxie had taken over recently.

"There you are!" Roxie wrapped me in a hug. Not unheard of, but not normal. I liked the way she didn't ask first. "I've got some more clothes for you."

That was a relief. I didn't want to have to ask for a new outfit for Sunday. She closed and locked the door before taking me by the hand. She dragged me to her 'bedroom,' a curtained off corner of the studio. An array of girl's clothes spread over the comforter.

Oddly, Roxie's face was flushed and her voice seemed shorter of breath than normal, like she was nervous about something. I know I was. She had been supplying my female clothes, from Mica and elsewhere, but this was a treasure hoard. The thought, the sight of so many disguises, so many outfits to help me hide from my family and stop hiding from something more important that I could feel awakening inside.

"You like?"

I nodded. "I like very much. Thank you."

"Oh!" Roxie stepped close, a tender look on her face. She reached a hand to my cheek, wiped a tear away I hadn't known had fallen, and kept her hand there, her eyes on mine.

"Paul?"

"Yeah, Roxie?"

"I'm confused." Now I was too.

"What about?" The beautiful blond looked down into my eyes, seeming for once to be shy and unsure.

"What I want." Her eyes dropped.

She smiled brightly, almost forcing it. A forced smile was not normal Roxie. "Let's get you dressed. Then I'll tell you."

I welcomed the break in tension. I had no clue what was going on but her discomfort was obvious.

She took a deep breath. "Paul?"

"Yeah, Roxie?" I smiled this time. She was nervous enough that I don't think she realized she was repeating herself.

Her hand stroked from my cheek to behind my neck. I was looking up at her deep blue eyes, at least several inches higher than my own. "Will you kiss me?"

My eyes went wide as hers closed. Her beautiful, Cupid's bow lips parted. I had only kissed three girls in my life, and only because the three of them caught me in a giggling circle of clasped hands at the local Renaissance Fair the summer before, demanding kisses to set me free.

I had seen all three at school. They were popular; two of the three were cheerleaders, though now playing frolicking maidens in long hand dyed skirts and snug bodices. The shortest was taller than I was, the tallest towered over me. My face felt burning hot with the shame. Customers and participants passed on either side of our circle on the hay-bale defined 'Queen's Road.'

The shortest took my first kiss. I was surprised her lips were so soft, more so by her tongue slipping between mine. The tallest was next. She pulled me closer against her, tilting my face up to hers as she bent over me. Her tongue was more insistent, but somehow more caring. I felt a connection flowing between us as our tongues entwined.

I gasped as she pulled away. The medium height kissing bandit was the ringleader and next. Caramel skin, short curly hair and a woman's body. Where male attention had always made Roxie withdraw, Mitzy seemed to relish it. Her walk, her stances, her eyes, her clothes, and especially her hips, all seemed to say "look here, boys. I got what you need and I know it."

One arm snaked around my waist, the other behind my upper back, hand on my nape. She pulled me in close to her. Her tiny pixie nose rubbed along mine. She smiled knowingly at me when her lower arm tugged me even closer and my erection pushed low against her belly.

"Such pretty eyes you have." Mitzy whispered before her full lips parted to kiss me ever so lightly. Two lips barely embraced my upper one, pulling it gently before releasing it. Her belly rubbed against my hard trapped cock. "You like that, don't you?"

I nodded, scared to speak, not sure if she meant her belly or her lips.

Her next kiss added the softest tongue yet. It felt magical. Then the arm around my waist pulled me hard against her and her kiss grew frantic. She sucked, nibbled and ground against me. Her fingers were frantic in the hair on the back of my neck.

Suddenly, she pulled away. Mitzy's eyes were bright and her lips parted as she sucked a hissing breath in between her teeth. The tallest girl's eyes bounced between Mitzy and me.

The ringleader laughed. "Come on girls. We're late."

The three ran off, hand in hand though the crowd and dust, Mitzy smiling back at me before they rounded the corner. I stood in a daze, my hard-on throbbing. None of the three ever spoke to me again, and Small Paul definitely did not have the confidence to approach them.

Now my best friend stood with her eyes closed, waiting. I raised up on my toes and pecked at her lips. They pursed out to meet mine. Smooch. Smooch. Smooch. Three chaste kisses.

Roxie opened her eyes. We both broke out laughing.

"Wow, the fireworks!"

"I know. That might have been the single most passionate kiss in history, right?"

"Paul, I don't think you're my type."

I wondered what her type was. I only knew of a couple dates she'd had, both of which she'd reported as disappointing at best. "Roxie, I'm pretty sure you're not my type either. But I love you anyhow."

Her eyes opened wide. I had never said that before. In an instant I was wrapped tight in her arms, squeezed close. "That is the sweetest thing ever. Thank you. I love you too, Paul."

My arms went around her and we held each other in silence. I could feel her curves, the full young breasts pushing against me. They seemed perfect and I felt a tad jealous. Maybe more. Finally she eased her grip. "Let's get you dressed."

I turned to look at the array of clothes, all for me. Skirts, tights, tops, bras and panties. I felt special, like a princess. I had never really thought about wearing panties and bras, since they wouldn't be seen. I looked back at Roxie, in black yoga shorts and a big T-shirt. She looked like a woman in anything she wore.

"What do you want to try on first?"

First? "Are we going out?"

Roxie shrugged. "We can, but I thought it would be fun to play dress up here, try some new things on, hang out."

Her voice trailed off unsurely, as if she needed reassurance that I'd want to just 'hang out.'

"Sounds good. Though I never get tired of my grandparents driving by, oblivious to how close I am. And...I do kinda like the way guys look at me."

"God, I want to flip off that fucking Volvo every time it drives by."

"Thanks. For the thought and for not doing it."

"You're right though, Paul. The men they were a starin'." She shook her head. "And a few ladies. You looked so hot yesterday."

"So did you. You always do."

"You're so sweet." She looked up and to the side as I'd considering something. It looked like a pose. "Hey, if we're staying here, do you want to try something?"

"Like what?"

"You get changed. I'll surprise you." She walked over to her desk, fished through a bottom door.

Eyes traveling over the wealth spread over her bed, I picked items at a whim. Plaid pleated skirt with a gold chain and oversize diaper pins to close it. A white tank. Growing bold, I grabbed white fishnet tights and a lacy black bra. I headed to Roxie's bathroom, pausing only on a whim to snag white cotton panties. For some reason, selecting panties and a bra I knew I didn't need sent a ticklish tingle through my gut.

I set everything on the counter and reached to close the door. I remembered something Matthew had said in the darkroom.

"Roxie? Are there any shoes I could try?"

She grinned from the desk. "Now you're thinking like a girl! What size?"

"Uh, I dunno. I wear a five in men's."

"That would be a seven. Look under the bed. Mine' ll be a little big, but they should work. The ones on the left are too small for me. They might fit."

The leftmost shoes were chunky brown platform wedges, with blunt toes. No seperate high heel but giving the same effect. I disappeared into the bath with my latest find.

I stripped to my underwear, then quickly tugged them down and off after a quick glance in the mirror. My face was red. One of the few things my mother and my grandparents agreed on: since I fit the largest Boy's underwear, it made sense to save money and not buy small Men's ones. After all, they're the same thing they agreed.

They were not the same thing. Ask any high school senior to strip down to his skivvies for gym class, even one that hadn't been picked on for his diminutive size and different, more feminine looks since before kindergarten. If he knows he's got kid's underwear on, the pants aren't coming off.

Standing completely naked in front of the mirror, I glanced at the door to make sure it was locked. I studied my body in a way I couldn't ever do at home, with only the little mirror above my sink.

I looked like a pitiable excuse for a man. Skinny, scrawny, almost hairless. My penis and sack were clearly visible, with only a sparse hint of pubic hair above. I thought of Matt, asking about 'her.'

I shivered. He wanted to see her again, and he wanted to keep her safe. I reached down, pushed my package back between my legs. I could see a hint of hair, and a single fold of skin disappearing between my pale thin thighs like a slit.

Looking at myself that way, the scrawny build seemed more alluring somehow. I liked it better. I let my lips part slightly before running my tongue tip over them, flirting.

I ran a hand from my belly, slowly up my smooth body. I twitched in surprise when my hand dragged over one tiny hard nipple. I did it again, adding the other hand, stimulating both little diamonds. Then I pinched them, watching as I pulled them away from my soft pale chest.

The feeling was intense, shocking electrical charges radiating through my body from my sensitive chest. I looked back at the mirror, breathing harder. I stretched them out again, running my tongue back out over my lips.

"You like that?" I whispered. I almost added "Matthew" to the end of the question, but the lusting man's face I saw in my mind was older, with curly hair, on top of a thick burly body not quite fitting into a pinstripe jacket. My cock chose that moment to pop out from between my legs. Not completely stiff, but close.

Checking the tag, I saw the bra was a 32B, but I wasn't quite sure what that meant. Roxie must have known since it fit fine, except I had nothing to fill the smallish cups. My only difficulty was trying to hook the damn thing behind my back. I eventually figured out I could hook it in front, then spin the bra around before pulling the black straps over my shoulders.

I pulled on the simple white panties, the tip of my cock protruding above the waistband. Other than that, I liked what I saw in the mirror. I felt somehow stronger than usual, more confident. And confidence is not a feeling I generally had standing in my underwear.

Fishnet tights, skirt, white tank top: all came on in that order. I adjusted the shoulder strap so the contracting black bra straps showed more. My boobs were an embarrassment. It took three tries to ball up toilet paper to fill the small cups in a reasonably realistic manner.

Gel on the counter helped spike my hair. With a hand on my waist, I cocked my hips to one side. Attitude. I had it now. Damn girl! Looking fine. I remembered the shoes.

Without socks, just fishnets, the chunky platforms fit perfectly. I thought I'd felt more powerful before! Even if I wasn't entirely stable on my feet, I felt like I could trample the world. I towered over the old boy's-underwear-wearing me. The heels made my butt tuck in and my shoulders straighten. Both hands on hips, I kissed at my vision in the mirror.

Lifting the skirt, I confirmed that my hard-on had subsided while I concentrated on shoes and clothes. I adjusted my panties then, on a whim, tucked everything back between my legs. My god, the white panties looked like they were supposed to, flat and smooth against me. No make-up and I was already a hotty.

I opened the door, called out. "Ready?"

"I am so ready!" Came the answer.

Stepping carefully and, I hoped, like a confident, sexy woman, I moved into Roxie's view. She whistled. Then she just looked. Her look lingered longer than any of the oglers had. It was not furtive or hidden, but openly checking me out.

She pushed herself off of her bed, which also serviced as the studio's couch when she piled all her pillows onto it. Eyes on me, she circled, checking me out from every angle, taking her time. The circle ended directly in front of me.

There was a seriousness behind her grin. "God, you're gorgeous. And that's without make-up. And look at these boobs!"

She giggled as she squeezed one tissue-filled bulge.

"Hey!" I playfully slapped her hand away. "That's my tata, you hussy."

She shifted on her feet nervously as her eyes dropped. With my platforms on, my eyes were almost level with hers. She leaned close and kissed me again. It only lasted an instant, but it was different from before. Her lips seemed more intimate, softer. And they seized my upper lip between them, sucking on it briefly before releasing it. Roxie immediately turned away and walked to her desk.

She came back with a joint in her hand and a smile on her face. I knew her parents smoked pot, but she had always been dismissive of smoking it herself. "I'm naturally high," she'd said more than once.

I trusted Roxie more than anyone in the world. I'd never smoked anything, too scared my family would smell it on me, but if Roxie wanted to, I'd do it. And I'll admit I was curious what it

Flicking a lighter, she rolled the twisted tip of the joint over the flame. Before it lit, she pulled it away. "Maybe I should do your make-up first."

I laughed. "Probably a good idea. Just so I don't look like Tammy Faye or something."

Joint and lighter now in one hand, Roxie pulled me into the bathroom with the other.

This was a whole new level of detail and artistry applied to my face. I felt pampered, cared for. She spent most of her time on my eyes, a little on my cheeks, and finished with lipstick, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on the lines. She stepped back to check out her canvas, me.

"Wow." Her look fit the word. She looked stunned. "Just wow. Look for yourself."

I did. The woman looking back at me was a goddess. I say 'woman' because I did look older this time, and not just my falsies. My lips were full and shiny, almost red. My cheeks blushed with a hint of red too. But my eyes.

My eyes were not mine. They were the eyes of an exotic, alluring beauty, sophisticated yet flirty. She had extended the line out past my eye, her shading cresting huge, deep almonds framed by long thick black lashes.

Roxie placed a hand on my back when a strong shiver ran up my spine, my shoulders shaking. The exotic beauty was me.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soft, reassuring.

I turned to her and nodded, unable to speak. Her mouth made a small 'O'.

"Don't cry! Whatever the reason, don't cry. I spent too long on those eyes."

Instead of crying, I laughed at her reaction. I saw myself in the mirror again. It was amazing. I looked almost nothing like me or even the girl I'd been yesterday.

I surprised both of us by wrapping Roxie in a tight hug. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Mmmm. That feels good, Pauletta." She leaned her body into mine. I had to agree. The only thing that felt odd was my crinkly artificial boobs crushed between us.

"Pauletta? No way. Sounds like a creepy doll in a scary movie."

She pulled back, smiling. "What should we call you then? Pauly?"

I made a face at that one. My immediate thought was 'Wanna cracker?'

"We can think about that." I vamped, one hand behind my head, the other on a cocked hip. "For now, you can call me Hot Stuff."

She rolled her eyes at that one. "Okay, Hot Stuff. Hey, I know something that might help us think a little more creatively."

She grabbed the joint and lighter from the counter, repeated her earlier actions. The tip lit. She paused, watching the flame grow, then blew it out before bringing the other end to her lips. The cherry at the end glowed bright as she drew in a hit.

As she reached out the hand with the joint to me, holding her breath, Roxie's eyes went wide in realization. She pulled the hand back.

"No way I'm letting you ruin that perfect lipstick job. You get second hand smoke." Her voice was tight, constricted, as she tried to avoid exhaling smoke with her words.