Song lyrics included by Meredith Brooks, Shania Twain, and Meghan Taylor. All rights reserved to those artists and record companies.

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The radio clicked on. It was the morning alarm. Music played. "I hate the world today..."

I turned over in bed. "I hadn't heard this song in a while. It's a song I used to hear all the time in the 90s," I thought.

I like the song so much, but I don't want to open my eyes. I'll just lay here until the song is over. That's what I'll do.

How does the song go again?" "You're so good to me. I know but I can't change."

"The song of my life. I even know who they mean, Jimmie Griffin of course. He is nothing like my soon to be ex-husband. Jimmie and I had been seeing each other for a while. Maybe seeing each other is too strong a word, we've been fucking."

Music continues, "Tried to tell you. But you look at me like I'm an angel underneath: innocent and sweet. Yesterday I cried. You must have been relieved to see my softer side..."

"Well maybe not yesterday, but it wasn't too long ago."

"I can understand how you would be confused. I don't envy you. I'm a little bit of everything all rolled into one!"

It's time to get up! I open my eyes and jerk into a sitting position right before the chorus starts. I know how it goes. I start singing to the music. "I'm a BITCH. I'm a lover. I'm a child. I'm a mother. I'm a sinner I'm..."

I don't feel like a child. But I am a mother and I have to get ready for my son. He gets to sleep for another hour, but I have to start early.

I throw the covers off my body and lower my feet to the ground. I place them into the slippers that I had left by the bed. I stand up and my nightgown falls into place just below my knees. "Hey isn't there a line in the song about knees? Something about being on my knees? I forgot how it goes exactly. I'll have to wait and listen to the whole song to find out. But there isn't time now.

I press the button on the clock-radio to turn off the alarm. The music silences. I try and remember how the song goes. I should know it. This is the chorus.

Singing to myself, "I'm a saint. I do not feel ashamed I'm in hell, I'm in a dream. I'm something in between."

Is that how it goes? It goes something like that. But I'm not sure. I paddle off to the bathroom. I pull up my nightgown and pull down my panties and sit on the toilet. How does that song go again?

"I'm a bitch." That's definitely right. "I'm a lover." OK. "I'm a child." Yeah like I could be a child. "I'm a MOTHER." That's what I am. Of all those listed. That is what I am the most. I'm Mitchell's mother.

Mitchell is Annaleigh's seventeen-year-old son. He's a junior at Suffolk High School. "Seventeen years old and still can't get out of bed by himself."

Back to the song. Where was I? "I'm a child. I'm a mother. I'm a sinner. I'm a saint. I'm very very afraid. This is hell. It's a dream. It's something in between." No that isn't how it goes. I'll have to listen to it later.

I get off the toilet, wipe and flush and head towards the shower. I turn it on and brush my teeth while waiting for the water to get warm.

I can see my reflection in the mirror. My face is puffy (too many devil dogs and ring dings) and it doesn't have any makeup. My blonde hair has that slept-in look. I can't see that it's dark roots have grown in yet. But when it does, I'll be ready with a touch up until I can get it done at the salon. I'll look better after my shower and maybe a little makeup. It'll take me an hour to just look presentable. I could use a cigarette too. But I'll shower first. Why cut a good smoke off for a shower?

Before I gained all this weight, people used to tell me I looked very young. Too young actually more like a girl than a woman. That is when I started to wear makeup all the time. I wonder if I lost a few pounds, I could look young again?

I pulled my nightgown over my head and let my panties drop to the floor. I could see my plump (a word I use to be kind to myself) body and quickly step into the shower.

I start with my hair. I always wash my hair first. Of course, I keep my eyes closed to keep the soap out of them. This reminds me of that song again. I can't help it that tune has contaminated my mind.

"I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother. I'm a sinner, I'm a saint. I do not feel ashamed. I'm you're hell, I'm you're dream. I'm everything in between. No, you wouldn't want it any other way."

That sounds right. Although I'm in hell is more accurate.

I finish with my hair and work down from the top. Creams for my face, and then liquid soap for the rest of my plump body. My tits are only big because I'm overweight. I guess that is the one good thing about being heavy. Clean my privates (with a special cleanser, Summer's Eve) shave my legs and I'm done.

I step out of the tub and dry myself off. I still have a lot to do. Dry and style my hair, start to put on makeup and other creams and lotions which help me look as pretty and feminine as possible. Before leaving the bathroom, I take a little spritz or two of Shalimar Eau de Parfum Spray. I get it at a discount from my job at Macy's. I love the fragrance. I just love to smell pretty.

Once finished in the bathroom, I have to get dressed and finish my makeup. I put on my bra and shaper. Those are needed every day. But I still have to choose an outfit.

Plenty of time for that after I have my first smoke of the day and some coffee. I walk slowly over to the kitchen. I fill the coffee maker with water and put my cup under the spout. I start the machine. I have a couple of minutes to have my first smoke. I need it. I need it badly. I used to have my smoke before my shower, but now I wait until after. That is my concession to myself. My first step to quitting, I wait until after my shower to have my first smoke of the day.

Coffee is ready. I start to drink then I make myself some breakfast.

"BUZZZZZ"

That must be Mitchell's alarm. I hope he gets out of bed instead of just turning it off. But I know better. He gets an extra hour of sleep. He can just put on any old jeans and a t-shirt and he's ready in five minutes.

I turn the radio on again and change the channel to get the weather. It was a little disappointing that the song wasn't still playing. But that was an hour ago. It's going to be a warm spring day. I'll wear my button down white top with translucent sleeves and a v-neck with my cream- colored below the knees skirt. My days of mini-skirts left me with my figure long ago I muse. Besides, I have to be at work today, it's best that I don't have to change. Mini-skirts are a no-no at work, even for the twenty-year-old sale associates. All I have to do is add a matching jacket (which hides the translucent sleeves, also a no-no at work) that has my name tag and I'll be ready for work. I'll put them on after breakfast.

I also put on my two-inch heels. Mitchell is a little taller than me. He's 5'6 and I'm 5'5 but the extra height I get from my heels gives me a little bit of authority over Mitchell. Better and inch or two taller than one shorter.

I walk over to Mitchell's room. I can't hear anything. He must have gone back to sleep. I'm going to wake him up.

The song goes through my head again with the words subtly changed, "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother. I'm a sinner, I'm a saint. I do not feel afraid. I'll be his hell. I'll wake him from his dream. I wouldn't want it any other way!" I smile to myself and start singing the song as I enter his room and shake him awake.

"What's that song?" Mitchell asks.

"It's called Bitch."

"You certainly...."

I give him a look. He knows not to finish that statement.

"Time to wake up and get dressed. I'll make breakfast."

"Just five more minutes."

"You had that time already. Get up and get dressed."

Mitchell didn't respond. He didn't get out of bed either.

I shake my head. I should be used to this. I grab him by his arm and pull him out of bed.

"I'm up. I'm up," Mitchell said groggily.

"Take your shower and get dressed and breakfast will be waiting for you."

"OK, fine."

I make him breakfast in the morning and he thinks that he's doing me a favor?

At the breakfast table, Mitchell sits down. I've made him a couple of eggs. It's actually an omelet as I have added some cheese and green pepper to the scrambled eggs while cooking them. I also made some toast. "Mitchell should be able to do this himself," I thought. How hard is it to scramble an egg and put it on a plate? He's seventeen, he should know by now.

"Mitchell, don't forget we are going to Steven and Joanne's wedding this weekend."

"I know. You don't have to remind me. I don't know why I have to go at all."

"Adelaide (Joanne's mother) is a very good friend of mine. I have known her since I was younger than you."

"But why do I have to go?"

"Because you were invited."

Mitchell gave his mom a look.

"You are going and that is final," I said raising my voice a little.

"I'll go. I'll go," Mitchell reluctantly agreed.

A while later, Mitchell asked again, "What was that song you were singing before?"

"It was called 'Bitch'. It was popular before you were born."

After Mitchell left for school, I took another smoke break and finished dressing. Since I was going to work, what I wore was pretty much set. I would need control top hose and a supportive bra. I had some choice about the type of panties, I could wear something lacy and naughty, but today just a sheer pair of nylon briefs will do. Sometimes, when I'm feeling sexy, I'm wearing next to nothing when it comes to panties, but not today. I guess as the song goes, today 'I'm a saint' maybe tomorrow I'll be the sinner.

Today, I have to pick up my dress for the wedding. It has already been fitted, all I have to do is try it on one more time and take it home. Today I'm the mother, saint part, but tomorrow I will change and today won't mean a thing. God that is a great song.

Deciding, I got dressed and put on shoes with a small heel. I can't work all day in high heels.

I can't get the song out of my head, I don't know why but I have to hear it again. I take my iPod, load the song, and hook it to my car speakers and play it on repeat.

Singing along to the song, I mused that tomorrow Jimmie will find out what it means when it says "I'm your hell, I'm your dream, I'm nothing in between." I don't care if he wouldn't want it any other way. There are lots more men out there besides Jimmie.

Mitchell on the other hand thinks he has me figured out. What does he know he's just a kid, only seventeen. He's trying to save me, or at least my marriage. But that isn't going to happen. The season is already changing. He'd be surprised to know that as the song goes, "I'm a bitch, I'm a tease, I'm a goddess on my knees...(I knew there was something in the song about being on my knees). But when you hurt when you suffer, I'm your angel undercover.." He doesn't know a thing about me. Not Mitchell, not Jimmie, not even to Mitchell's dad, Mitch. (Mitchell is technically Mitchell Jr.) "YOU KNOW I WOULDN'T WANT IT ANY OTHER WAY!!!"

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Mitchell walked to school. It was over a mile walk and his mom wouldn't buy him a car even though he had earned his license months ago.

"What did she call that song? Bitch. Yes, she sure is. She drove my dad out of the house and now I'm stuck there alone with her." Mitchell wanted his family back together. He thought that it was entirely his mother's fault for the breakup. How could it be his father's fault? He was never home, he worked very hard to support everyone.

Mom has a job, she works at Macy's but she didn't need it. With all the extra money she has, buying me a car wouldn't be a problem. There isn't a reason to ask dad for a car. If mom won't let me have one, what's the point? I live with mom. If I want to stay in my high school I'll have to stay with mom. I'm stuck here. Stuck with that Bitch.

On the way to school, Mitchell found himself behind Trina Shunnarah. She was with her friends. Trina had a great ass. Mitchell loved looking at it. He closed to within twenty feet or so of her, but never passed her and never looked away.

His thoughts about his mother were supplanted by other thoughts. Not that Mitchell knew he had any chance with Trina. He was young and athletic. He loved to play soccer, but his body was too slight to impress a girl like Trina. Being short was actually an advantage when playing soccer, but not when impressing cute girls.

Mitchell sometimes wished he had a more rugged appearance. Or maybe if he could grow a mustache/beard that didn't look silly. Even though he was seventeen, he still needed to fill out as a man in many ways.

With Trina leading the way, Mitchell was at school in no time. He had to tear himself away from Trina and her rear. It would be embarrassing if she knew he was following her. Mitchell walked straight into the school without even saying hello to Trina as he passed her.

Mitchell met up with his friend in the hall.

"How's it going?" Roland Webber asked.

"Mom won't buy me a car. Mom and dad are still separated."

"So the same old, same old?"

"Yeah."

"Anything else?"

"I don't think so."

"Soccer after school?"

"Sure."

"Plans for the weekend?"

"You know I have that wedding to go to."

"I forgot. Whose?"

"One of my Mom's friends. Well her daughter or son. I don't remember which."

"Will your dad be there?"

"No, it's my mom's friend."

"Maybe there will be girls there?"

"Maybe, but I don't want to go anyway. I won't know anyone."

Roland, like Mitchell, wasn't too much of a lady's man. But that didn't mean they still didn't talk about girls often.

"Well on Saturday, tell your mom you're sick. It's not like skipping school."

"I know her. She won't go for it."

"Give it a shot. What could it hurt?"

"OK, I'll try," Mitchell said but he knew he wouldn't.

"Look over there."

"Over where?"

"There that door."

"What about it?"

"Behind that door, girls are changing. Wouldn't it be great to open that door and see inside?

"You're a perv."

"Because I want to see naked girls? I don't think so. I think any man who had a chance would do it."

"OK, then you do it. I dare you. I double dare you."

"To just open the door?"

"No open it and go inside."

***RING***

"Maybe later. That's the bell. I have to go or I'll be late for class."

---------------------------------------------

At work, I was called into Mr. Gianino's office. I hate him. I just hate him. But I'll bide my time. I'll have his job soon. I have already made my plans. The question is should I have him fired when I take his job or should I have him demoted so he works under me? I still have a little while to decide. But soon, real soon, I'll have his job.

I freshen my lipstick before knocking on the office door.

"Come in."

I entered his office. "Good afternoon, Mr. Gianino," I say sweetly with a big smile on my face.

"Come in, Mrs. Wilson. I want to talk about the upcoming holiday season and how we will turn over the inventory."

"Yes, Mr. Gianino," I said continuing to keep the smile on my face.

Mr. Gianino spouted on and on about the stuff I already knew. "He's such a fool," I thought. "It'll be best when I run this place."

"We have a few days left, so you can move the inventory into section seven at your convenience. No big hurry," he reminded me as I left his office.

I found Judy one of the flunkies who works for me.

"Judy, I want you to remove the inventory from the back and put it into section seven," I informed her.

"Now?"

"Yes, now!"

"But I was working on..."

"I don't care what you are working on. Do it now. You can finish the other stuff later...but I will expect that to be finished today too!" I barked at her.

I don't care if Judy's feelings are hurt. She'll do her job or she'll be looking to work somewhere else.

---------------------------------------------------

I knew I didn't have to remind Mitchell it was the day of Joanne's wedding. I simply took his suit out of the closet and put it where he could see it. Then I would get ready myself. It would take me a couple of hours despite having everything planned out. Tonight under my pretty party dress, I would be dressed in all satin and lace. I wanted to feel a little devilish. I wanted to look respectable, but feel sexy at the same time. Watch out men!

Jimmie isn't coming with me. Nor my soon to be ex-husband, I can look for a cute single guy and really pour it on.

"Mitchell, you can drive us tonight," I told him. He hasn't had his license for very long, he just loves to drive. Also if he drives, I can drink all I want. It's a twofer.

The wedding was beautiful. Joanne looked great and the bridegroom looked so dapper in his tuxedo. Adelaide had tears in her eyes. She tried to keep control but she couldn't. I couldn't blame her, her only daughter was getting married. One day, Mitchell would be getting married, but it's different when it's your daughter. At least I think it is. I haven't seen Mitchell with any girls yet. It's OK, he's just shy.

"Mitchell, go over there and find out where we are sitting for the reception."

"Sure thing Mom." A moment later, "We're sitting at table 12." I could tell that Mitchell didn't like sitting at the same table as his mother. I guess they didn't know where to put him.

I sat down with Mitchell next to me. At the table with us were two junior bridesmaids and their parents, another couple, and a distinguished man who seemed to be about my age.

"I'm Annaleigh Wilson," I said to the gentleman. The man had an air about him. There was no doubt he was very handsome and judging by his suit and his very expensive watch he was very rich too.

I held my hand out limply in front of him. He took it gently and slowly gave it a shake.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Dr. Zaaijer."

"You're a doctor?"

"I'm a psychiatrist. More specifically a family counselor."

"That must be very interesting work?"

"It has its rewards."

I had no way of knowing but everyone at the table besides Mitchell and myself had all been Dr. Zaaijer's patients.

Dr. Zaaijer introduced everyone who was at the table to me.

I said "Hello," to a young couple, that Dr. Zaaijer introduced. They seemed pleasant enough but didn't have much to say. I had no way of knowing that they were the only people changed by Dr. Zaaijer that knew exactly what was happening to them and didn't like it. They hated Dr. Zaaijer and everything he was doing to them. All they said, was "Nice to meet you," with a seemingly genuine smile.

Even though they were the only people who ever really knew the exact effects on their lives done by Dr. Zaaijer and hated it, in many ways, they were the most fortunate. At least they kept their own genders and ages.

The pair of junior bridesmaids were introduced last. "This is Morgan. She is twelve and this is her sister Joie. She is fourteen," Dr. Zaaijer informed me.

I had no way of knowing that before Dr. Zaaijer got his hands on these siblings, Morgan had been a girl Mitchell's age (17). Joey had been a twelve-year-old boy. When Dr. Zaaijer was done with them, Morgan would be living as a rambunctious nine-year-old boy who loved playing with trucks and toy guns. 'His sister' would be living as a twenty-one-year- old coed at the junior college looking desperately for a man to marry.

"Who is this young man?" Dr. Zaaijer inquired.

"That is my son, Mitchell. He's a junior at Suffolk High School."

"Nice to meet you, Mitchell." Dr. Zaaijer shook Mitchell's hand. Then to me, Dr. Zaaijer said "He has your good looks."

I smiled at the compliment. My boy was handsome and takes after me. Maybe when his face fills out more, he'll look more like his dad. But at this age, I can see a lot of myself in his looks.

On Mitchell's face, I see a sarcastic grin. He thinks that Dr. Zaaijer said that to hit upon me. Maybe he did.

To change the subject I asked, "You're a therapist? You must have some very interesting cases." I also moved in a bit closer. Not that I could get too close, I didn't want to blow smoke right into his face.

"I do, but I can't tell you. There is that whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing you know."

"You can tell me. I won't tell anyone," I moved in even closer, wrapping my arm around his to establish some intimacy.

"I could tell you things, but I mustn't."

"Awe, your no fun," I said with mock disappointment.

"I can tell you, all my patients leave me better off than when they found me." I didn't notice the couple at my table giving Dr. Zaaijer a disgusted look.

"Everyone?"

"Yes, everyone. I'm very good. Some call me a miracle worker."

"He's done wonders for our family," the father of Morgan and Joie said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were patients," Annaleigh said a little embarrassed.

"It's OK. We understand. Besides Dr. Zaaijer is impeccable."

"Are you really impeccable?"

"I'm many things."

"Are you a good dancer?"

"Surely I am."

"Prove it!"

I snuffed out my cigarette and looked longingly into his eyes.

Dr. Zaaijer didn't need another hint. He took me out to the dance floor and held me in his manly arms. I put my head on his shoulder and we danced the night away.

I moved in close. I put my hand on his crotch and gave his cock a little squeeze. I don't care one bit if it is 'ladylike.' How did that song go again? "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover. I'm a sinner. I'm a saint. I do not FEEL ASHAMED!"

I could tell that Dr. Zaaijer liked it. For a moment I thought about Jimmie. I put Jimmie out of my head. 'Tomorrow I will change, and today won't mean a thing.'

When the evening was over, Dr. Zaaijer asked for my number and I eagerly gave it. He called me early the next morning. "It was too late to call you last night, but I wanted to see you again."

I happily accepted a date from this fine man. All I have to do is break my date with Jimmie and decide what to wear.

I have just the right dress, it's a sheer backless number with a deep v- neckline and spaghetti straps. But what I really need is some new lingerie to wear underneath. I don't know if it'll get that far. Who cares, it'll make me feel sexy.

After getting off the phone, I called Leona. Leona Driskell and I have been friends for a long time. Not as long as my friendship with Adelaide, but a long time. I had to tell her about this great guy that I met. She and I would go shopping for the lingerie I would need for the date.

"So tell me about him," Leona asked.

"Well, he's very distinguished."

"Handsome?"

"Oh my god yes. Just gorgeous."

"What does he do?"

"He's a doctor."

"He has a medical practice?"

"He's a psychiatrist. But he is more than that. Runs an entire clinic. Maybe the clinic isn't a good word. He heads an entire office of a dozen therapists. He also owns several nursing homes."

"You mean he has money."

I didn't answer, I just smiled broadly. "Who says money and looks are important. He's a gentleman."

"I say. More than that. I know you, you say!"

After shopping and finding the perfect lingerie set, I got dressed and waited for Dr. Zaaijer to arrive. When he rang the doorbell, I answered immediately. I'm not a teenager, there isn't any need to make him wait.

I gave Dr. Zaaijer a hug when he entered my house.

"Ouch what was that?"

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I don't know, it felt like something stung me."

"I'm sure it was nothing. Let's go."

"OK, let me get my purse." I got it from the kitchen and followed Dr. Zaaijer outside.

"You will always call me Dr. Zaaijer. That is perfectly normal to call me Dr. Zaaijer. You don't even remember what my first name is. You know that what I tell you is always the truth. It doesn't matter what you believed before, not even what you believed about yourself. You will do anything I ask because that is what you want to do," Dr. Zaaijer instructed me.

"Yes, Dr. Zaaijer."

We drove around for a short time, then I asked, "Where are we going?"

"To my clinic."

"Why are we going there."

"You said you wanted to see it."

I don't remember saying that, but if Dr. Zaaijer says I did, then he must be right.

Dr. Zaaijer led me into his facility. It was Sunday evening. I didn't expect to see anyone around. I wasn't disappointed, no one was there.

"You can be comfortable, take off all your clothes," he told me.

"Take off my clothes?"

"Yes, you don't have to wear anything around me. You don't have to put up any pretenses at all. You are simply happy to just do anything I tell you. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Then take off all your clothes."

I unzipped my dress and let it slip to the ground. I then folded it. I took off my shoes next leaving me in only my lace panties and my matching bra. I took both off effortlessly. I didn't prolong my undressing in any way. I was removing my clothes without any pretense (as the doctor said) as if I was undressing at my local gym. It's important to do anything the doctor tells me. I folded the rest of my clothes. I simply stood before him when I was done, my arms hanging loosely by my side. It didn't occur to me to cover my breasts or my privates.

"Are you comfortable?"

"It might be a little chilly in here."

"OK, I'll fix that."

Dr. Zaaijer walked around me. He examined me from all perspectives. All the while he asked me questions.

"I lost my virginity at nineteen. I had been dating Peter for over a year by then. It was in my sophomore year in high school. I thought I loved him. I thought we were going to get married, but it didn't turn out that way."

I described my entire life. I didn't leave out anything. Nothing was too personal or too embarrassing to tell Dr. Zaaijer. Dr. Zaaijer was so interested in my life, it made me feel good to tell him all he wanted to know.

"I'm not divorced yet. Ever since my husband moved out, it's been just me and my son."

"How old is your son again?"

"He's seventeen."

"Does he have a girlfriend?"

"No, I don't think so. He's never mentioned a girlfriend."

"Is he gay?"

"No, he's not gay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. He doesn't know but I have seen the porn he keeps on his computer. I don't want to embarrass him."

"Tell me about him."

"Mitchell is mostly a good boy even though he drives me crazy sometimes. He's seventeen and should be able to get up for himself. It wouldn't hurt him to take his clothes out of the laundry and fold a shirt or two. Why can't he make his bed? But none of these make him a bad person.

He's a boy he likes sports, hanging out with his friends, video games. He plays soccer."

"Have you ever played soccer?"

"No, but I'm glad he plays. So many kids spend their whole day in front of the computer or TV these days."

"You can get dressed now. But leave your panties here. You will remember that you had a wonderful time tonight. It was a perfect date. Anything that you think should happen on a date did and you couldn't have spent a better time. Other than that, you won't remember anything else that happened tonight except you were happy that I was interested in you and your life," Dr. Zaaijer informed me.

I was smiling all the way home. I had such a good time with Dr. Zaaijer. We had an intimate dinner at my favorite restaurant. How did he know? He won't tell. Then we walked on the boardwalk by the beach. It was the best evening.

Dr. Zaaijer dropped me off and we kissed on the patio. Mitchell was home so he couldn't come in.

Mitchell was in fact, watching TV in the living room when I returned.

"Did you fold the laundry?" I asked him.

"I forgot."

"What am I going to do with you?"

But I really didn't mind, I was in such a good mood. I went down to the laundry room and fetched the basket. I would have to iron some of my slacks and blouses., but I was going to have to do that anyway. It could wait until tomorrow. I wasn't dressed to fold laundry. In the meantime, I separated out mine and Mitchell's underwear and put it into our drawers. I put my clean panties in his drawer to teach him a lesson and his briefs in mine. I had to put them somewhere.

I got undressed, washed the makeup off my face, and went to bed.

In the morning, it was the same as it was last week. My alarm woke me up to music. I didn't like the song playing as much as last week's, which I still couldn't get out of my head. But I was still in a much better mood, because of my date last night.

In my underwear drawer, I selected my newly cleaned briefs. They were the male briefs I had bought for Mitchell, but I didn't notice. I took my shower. That was when I realized the underwear mistake. But what the hell, what did it matter. No one was going to see my underwear today. I made my coffee and had my cigarette. Fixed myself some breakfast and read the news off my tablet.

As per usual, I had to get Mitchell out of bed, then I returned to make sure his breakfast was also on the table.

"Moooommmmm!" I heard from Mitchell's room.

I didn't go up to see what it was.

"How come your panties are in my drawer?"

"Well next time when I tell you to fold and put away the laundry you will do it. You know there is still laundry that needs to be folded and put away."

Mitchell handed me a stack of the panties and then returned to his room. There were still clean boys briefs in his drawers. He was wearing those and a t-shirt. He returned to his room to finish getting dressed. I knew he wouldn't fold the clothes.

After Mitchell left, I did what I knew I had to do. I folded the laundry, ironed what I needed, and put the clothes away. I returned my stack of panties to the back of Mitchell's drawer. We'll see what happens when he runs out of clean underwear. Until then, I'll wear his briefs. Well, they aren't his, I paid for them, they are my briefs.

Dr. Zaaijer is right," I remembered. "I should start exercising." How about a brisk walk around the block several times? But I didn't have the right type of sneakers for exercising. I hadn't exercised in such a long time. No matter, I'll borrow Mitchell's. He has a couple of extra pairs of sneakers.

I finished getting dressed by putting on a pair of loose jeans and a t- shirt with any old pair of socks and Mitchell's sneakers and I was ready to walk.

This would be a start. Soon, I'd be jogging then those pounds would melt off. I believed that.

I stepped outside and started to walk. I took one step after the other as fast as I could without jogging. I knew that if I started to jog I couldn't go very far. I made it to the corner and turned right. I walked another complete block and turned right again. It wasn't that long until I was nearing my house. I decided to go around a second time. But once I was on my third time around, the corners looked so far away. I could stop but I didn't want to. Somehow I made it back to my house without stopping. I went into the kitchen and collapsed. I needed something to drink. Coffee wouldn't do, I needed something cold, I found some juice.

When I had recovered, I congratulated myself. Then I realized, I needed another shower. Next time, I'll walk first and then shower later.

When I looked in my underwear drawer for some panties, I saw Mitchell's briefs. They seemed comfortable, so I selected another pair. I took another shower and got ready for my new day. Under my business attire, my new briefs couldn't be seen and there were as comfortable as my cotton panties.

In quick succession, Leona called and asked me about my date. I told her that it was fantastic and that I'd see him again. Then Jimmie called and we made a date for tonight after work. Mitchell was going to be spending the night at his father's. I could let my hair down and let Jimmie take charge of everything. Jimmie really knew how to treat a woman.

The date was a little more than dinner after work and then going to Jimmie's house for a little fun and games. I didn't even go home to change my outfit. Jimmie didn't notice what I was wearing under my slip and control top hose. I don't think he would have cared if he knew. I don't know why I had been wearing panties for so long. Mitchell's briefs are much more comfortable.

Waking up early to walk several laps around the block was an easy habit to start. It wasn't just Dr. Zaaijer who encouraged me. My neighbors did also. They thought it was great I was taking care of myself. Walking out in the sun every day was doing me some good. Sometimes in unexpected ways. Not only was I losing weight, but my endurance was up, I was even starting to get a tan, just like Mitchell.

Mitchell was in the sun a lot while he played soccer with his friends. But, I was always indoors working or doing things around the house. I haven't had a tan for years. If this kept up, I would have to swap my make-up shades to match my new slightly darker complexion.

I would wake up and get dressed in Mitchell's sweats. The sweats were loose on Mitchell and just a little bit tighter on me but were just perfect for walking in. I would take a shower and put my makeup on afterward. As long as I was exercising, everyone was happy for me. Since I was getting a later start, I would make one breakfast for both Mitchell and me. It was easier that way. So instead of a more prepared meal, my breakfast was mostly milk cereal and juice. I also tried to avoid cigarettes and coffee.

Finally, the day came. "Moooommmmm, where's my underwear?" Mitchell whined.

"In the drawer."

"These aren't mine."

"Sure they are. They're in your drawer."

"You know what I mean."

"If you want clean underwear then I guess you have better do your own laundry."

Mitchell couldn't win. He certainly didn't have time to do laundry before school. But he was going to show me. He found a pair of white cotton panties and put them on instead of his briefs. They weren't too different than his underwear. They were white and cotton. True they didn't have a fly in front, but it wasn't like he used the fly. When he peed he simply pulled down the top of his briefs and peed over them. They also had a thinner waistband but who would notice. He seriously considered putting the panties on, but then decided against it. He instead put on the old pair he wore the day before.

"OK, I'll do the laundry after school," he informed me.

"How was it with you and your dad," I asked trying to change the subject.

"It was fine, but I won't be seeing him for a while after this."

"Why not?"

"He told me his company is transferring him out of the country for six months. I won't be able to see him until he gets back."

"They are? He never told me that." I was worried. I liked that Mitch took Mitchell every once in a while. It gave me time to myself. Time to spend overnights at Jimmie's. I didn't like to leave Mitchell all alone. He was 17, but who knows what trouble he and his friends could get in if they knew I wouldn't be around until morning.

"That is what he told me."

"I'll have to call him," I said exasperated.

That afternoon, I waited for Mitchell in the school parking lot.

"Get in," I said. Mitchell complied.

"This has gone on long enough. I want you to have a talk with Dr. Zaaijer about our problems at home."

"I know how it'll be. You and the doctor will gang up on me. It's not fair."

"I won't even come into the room. It'll be just you and him. You can talk it out."

We waited in Dr. Zaaijer's hot and arid office. The receptionist asked us if we wanted anything to drink. I took some juice. Mitchell declined. He waited until the doctor was free. After a while, a nervous Mitchell agreed to have a drink.

We knew we wouldn't have to wait much longer when we saw Dr. Zaaijer escorting a young woman who couldn't be any older than twenty-five and a middle-aged man out of his office. The young woman was wearing jean shortalls over a graphic short sleeves t-shirt with a crew neck. Her hair was put up with a dark blue scrunchy and she wore a tropical charm necklace. She wore it with high top sneakers with white laces that were tied into a bow on top. Under the sneakers were white anklet socks with a pink band. I couldn't help but think that her outfit would be more appropriate for middle school than for college.

"I had a nice talk with Christina," Dr. Zaaijer told the man. "She won't give you any more trouble. She'll listen to what you tell her. If she doesn't just threaten to take away her cell or just ground her. That should do it."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Dr. Zaaijer turned to us and asked Mitchell to come into his office.

I waited outside for the doctor to be done with him. When Mitchell returned to the outer office, he was wearing the panties I had worn on my first date with Dr. Zaaijer.

As we were leaving the clinic, Mitchell told me, "I talked with Dr. Zaaijer and I think he might be right. I have been taking you for granted too much lately. I'll do the laundry from now on. I'm also happy that you are trying to get in shape. I'm proud of you. I'll wake up early so you can get your exercise in and makeup breakfast. We usually eat the same things now anyway."

"That is so great. All I wanted was a little help around the house. You know what. Why don't you drive us home? I know how you love to drive."

I hugged my son. Dr. Zaaijer helped me in so many ways.

Mitchell was good to his word. As soon as he got home, he found the dirty laundry and started to wash it. He asked me some questions about what settings to use and things he had heard of, like separating colors. I even showed him how to hand wash certain things like my lingerie.

When everything was in the washing machine, I suggested that he practice soccer. I was watching him play in the back yard. He seemed to be having fun. When I went out with cold drinks he asked, "Hey do you want to try?"

I hadn't ever thought about a thing like that. Certainly not since gaining so much weight, but now that I was getting into shape, some exercise that wasn't as boring as running around a block seemed like fun.

"Sure," I said.

"I don't know if he expected that, but regardless, I began my first soccer lesson. I was still practicing what Mitchell had told me while he was folding the clothes after they had come out of the dryer.

"All done," Mitchell announced.

I then went to make dinner. I thought that I would borrow some more of Mitchell's briefs. I had gotten used to them. When I went to Mitchell's drawer, I did find a new supply of his briefs, but he didn't remove my panties. I left them in place and took about a dozen pairs of boy briefs for myself. It wasn't for a few days that I discovered that Mitchell was wearing panties instead of his briefs. I kept his secret. If he wants to feel sexy by wearing lacy panties under his clothes, let him do it. Sexy little secrets like that are wonderful. I know I feel great when I used to wear sexy little nothings under my clothes to work. Let him have his fun.

Mitchell did start making breakfast for us every morning. He would do it while I was doing my laps around the block. He started small, but soon he started to make bigger and bigger breakfasts. I wouldn't eat that much, I was still trying to lose weight. That didn't bother Mitchell he was so proud of what he did, he ate his portion and whatever I left over. So much so that while I was starting to lose weight, he was starting to gain some. Not that I minded.

-------------------------------------------------

"Leona, I lost seven pounds," I gushed to her over the phone.

"That's great."

"Yeah, I started walking and I started to lose weight quickly."

"Walking? Is that all you are doing?"

"Yeah."

"You should be doing aerobics. You have to work out your whole body."

"Maybe."

"I have an aerobics CD. I'll bring it over and we'll work out together."

"I'll be waiting."

I got off the cell and went to my room. I took off all my clothes, I needed something more appropriate for aerobics. I found my old leotard. I hadn't worn it for a while. To tell the truth, I wouldn't wear it if I was being seen by many people, like when I was at the Y. But, I've known Leona forever. It would be OK.

I found my leotard, my sports bra, and my tights. I undressed then I pulled the sports bra over my head and into place. Next, I sat down and pulled the tights up my legs to my waist, what waist I had. Finally, I pulled the leotard also up my legs and smoothed it over my bra.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My outfit was as body-hugging as my shapewear is. The difference is that the shapewear was designed to minimize my appearance. This was designed for freedom of movement. It let my entire body hang out. I could see every bulge of fat underneath my outfit. I reconsidered what I was wearing, but decided what the hell it's only Leona.

I heard the doorbell. "Leona got here quick," I thought. I walked over to it. I opened the door without asking who it was. I wanted to surprise Leona. But it wasn't Leona at the door, it was Mitchell's friend Roland.

I was completely embarrassed. No one had ever seen me like this in years. Certainly none of my son's friends.

I wiped the look of horror off my face. "I'm sorry, Mitchell is not here," I informed him.

"I umm, yeah, well OK," Roland said. I could see him looking me over from top to bottom. "Do you know when he will be back?" he finally got out.

"I'm not sure. You probably should call him on his cell."

"I'll do that."

I closed the door. I returned to my room and got changed again. This time when Leona finally arrived, I was back in much more loose-fitting clothing.

-------------------------------------------

As the weeks passed, my relationship with Dr. Zaaijer changed. We weren't dating anymore. It was more like he was a family friend who was always there for us (Mitchell and me). If I had a problem, I could show up at his office and he would always make time for me. It was like I had a standing appointment.

It was the same for Mitchell. With his father out of the house, Mitchell needed to talk to a man about his feelings. If Mitchell told me he had to see Dr. Zaaijer, I would let him have the car to drive there. It didn't matter if I needed to use the car that day, I would make accommodations for him. It was important for Mitchell to have a male role model.

As for me, Jimmie never knew anything about Dr. Zaaijer. I had told Jimmie that I only knew him because he was helping me with Mitchell. Jimmie was a little skeptical of Dr. Zaaijer until I had the two meet. There wasn't much trouble with Jimmie after that.

I rearranged my work schedule so I could pick Mitchell up after school. His extra-curricular activities kept him in school until 5:00 so it wasn't much of a problem. I also let him drive which he loved, especially when he would drive his friends, like Roland home with him.

It all started so innocently, but Mitchell and I spent a lot of time together. We do the housework together. That was the agreement, if I pick him up after school and let him drive, then he would help me do the housework. We always do it together now. Doesn't matter if it's washing the dishes or vacuuming the house, we do it together.

The time saved by dividing up the housework leaves us plenty of time for soccer practice together. That is doubly true now that daylight savings time is here. I am starting to get really good too. I faked Mitchell out and scored an easy goal in our backyard one time. I was brimming with pride when Mitchell told me, "Mom, playing with you is like playing against real competitors." I don't know if he meant it, but it was great to hear.

Mitchell and I had grown close. We worked and played together. Mitchell helped with the housework. It took no time when we were both working together. When Mitchell had a problem with some of his homework as we had grown so close, he asked for my help. I didn't know the work, but the answer was in the book. We read it together and discussed it and finally came up with the correct answer. That was how it started. We got into the habit (right after the housework, but before soccer), of doing Mitchell's homework together. We had to go over his notes and read the texts. After a while, it seemed like I was going to school as much as he was. When Mitchell started to get 90s on his tests, it was like I was getting them too.

"I'm going to the stylist today. You could use a haircut yourself."

"No, Mom, I'm letting it grow."

"Suit yourself. But if you are going to let it be that long, you should use my conditioner."

"OK, and you shouldn't drop your shoulder when you..." Mitchell faked me out and scooted the ball around me giving him an easy goal. I thought I was getting better, but it seemed I wasn't good enough.

"Not fair, my hair got into my eyes."

"Then maybe you should get your hair cut instead of me?"

Mitchell dropped me off at the salon a day later. he had to see Dr. Zaaijer. I never asked what they talked about. It was private. If Mitchell wanted to tell me he could. It was going so well and I had full faith in Dr. Zaaijer.

"You look great," my stylist said to me. She was talking about my body, my hair needed some work. The brown roots were really showing and my hair wasn't in 'good' condition anymore. But, I had lost over fifteen pounds in the weeks since I saw her last so I didn't care.

"Thank you, I feel great."

"What can I do for you?"

"I want a new look, something nice, but easy to take care of."

"What do you mean?"

As you can tell, I've been working out. Mostly jogging but other stuff. It's hard to maintain my hair the way it is. It's too long and quite frankly now that I am sweating more, there are other problems."

"So what do you want to do?"

"I want to cut it short, I want something nice that is easy to take care off. Also, I have been a blonde for so long, I think it's time to return to my original color. That'll be a shock to everyone. It's time to return to my natural roots."

Are you sure that is what you want?"

"I'm sure."

The stylist washed my hair first and added coloring to return my hair back to its natural hue. I wouldn't have to worry about those darn roots anymore. Then before cutting it, she asked again, "Are you sure?'

I smiled back at her. It's time for a change. If I don't like it, I'll let you know. It will eventually grow back.

Mitchell picked me up after my appointment.

"You look great," Mitchell said. "But just because your hair is short doesn't mean you can beat me at soccer."

"We'll see."

"Mom, I have something to ask you. Dr. Zaaijer wants me to babysit, tonight."

"Babysit?"

"Yeah, you remember those twin junior bridesmaids at the wedding?"

"They were twins?"

"Yes they were, you don't remember?"

"I guess, I thought one was older than the other."

"No."

"Anyway, their parents are in a bind and need someone to sit for them. I told Dr. Zaaijer I would do it."

"Well, if you want to. I don't mind."

Mitchell drove us over to where he was babysitting and I would take the car back home. "I'm probably going to spend the night here," Mitchell informed me.

"Fine," I said and decided to use the time to call Jimmie and see if maybe I could come over.

-------------------------------

Outside the house, a limousine was waiting. The driver was sitting in the car for his passengers.

Mitchell rang the doorbell and Morgan (and Joie's) father answered the door. he was wearing a tuxedo.

"Come in," he said. Mitchell entered the house. Inside Morgan's mother was wearing a prom dress. This was quite natural since she and her husband were going to a high school prom. The mother was wearing a baby blue strapless ball gown with applique flowers throughout. It had a tulle puffed-out skirt. It was pretty for a high school girl to wear to the prom, but not for a married woman to wear to a formal event.

This would be the last time that Mitchell saw these people, as the people who would be returning had been actual high school students this morning. Morgan's parents would be at the senior high school prom tonight, but tomorrow they would be ordinary students back in the tenth grade. Not only wouldn't they be married anymore, but they also wouldn't even be dating.

Mitchell found Morgan and Joie playing together. They had changed. They were dressed identically as if they were twin girls. Joie was definitely the more demure of the two. Morgan was quite a bit more rambunctious with her play. She directed Joie on how the play would go. They were both on their way to their new permanent personas.

Morgan who had been a vivacious seventeen-year-old girl on the cusp of womanhood would eventually end up an obnoxious nine-year-old boy who loved shoot-em-up games played in the dirt. The formerly eleven-year-old Joey (a nerdy boy) would eventually be a twenty-one-year-old co-ed in college looking pretty while she was searching for a man to marry. But at this point, they were both twin prepubescent girls playing with dolls.

Mitchell enjoyed watching after the girls as he developed a motherly instinct for children. He got down on the floor with them and helped them play. Later, all three of them would play dress-up in their mother's clothes. As they dressed in one outfit (including underwear) after another, they (including Mitchell) were naked in front of each other. Mitchell, nor the other two children, ever felt the least bit of embarrassment during that time. Mitchell found that he had a natural talent when it came to applying make-up.

Mitchell put the children to bed at the appropriate time and watched TV until he fell asleep later. Their parents returned early that morning. As stated before, they weren't the same pair who had left. These new parents had gone to the prom as participants arriving separately (the boy had been gay and the girl had been a lesbian), they ended up as 'young adult' chaperons, and returned home as the married straight parents of twin girls. The new father's actual age was younger than Morgan's had been before she met Dr. Zaaijer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------ ----

I hadn't seen Jimmie in a while. I had been spending a lot of time bonding with my son. When I called Jimmie and told him I would be over soon. I stopped to get some wine before heading over to Jimmie's place.

I didn't expect him to go to any trouble for me. But he did. He was wearing a high-neck sleeveless mauve catsuit that was tied at the waist with a thin sash. The catsuit hugged his entire body, so much so that I could see the outline of his bra and bra straps even from the front (but he didn't seem to be wearing any panties.) He was wearing it with high heeled sandals with a single strap just above his toes and a thin strap at his ankle. He wore dangling earrings and the hues he used on his make-up were very seductive, especially around his eyes. It was like he was preparing for my call even before I made it.

"You didn't have to go to so much trouble?"

'Trouble? Naaa, I just threw this on. Do you like it?"

"Yes, I do."

I could see his penis engorge under his catsuit. It seemed to want to point straight out. Only the tightness of the garment kept it in check.

"Your hair looks great!!! I just love it," Jimmie gushed at my new style.

"Thank you. I just had it done today."

"I may grow my hair a bit and make it look like that. Mine is way too short. I'm thinking of getting extensions to quicken the process. But enough of that," he said. But then in a seductive tone, he whispered, "Come with me,".

I don't know how he found the time, but he cooked an entire dinner for us. He had set the table and when he turned off the lights, he lit some candles to give the place a very romantic feel. I could tell that he would prefer to get to it, but he had worked so hard that I sat down and we ate what he prepared. I didn't find it strange that this was the first time Jimmie had ever served me dinner, let alone prepared it himself.

"It's delicious," I told him.

"Dr. Zaaijer suggested I learn to cook. I just love it. If you think this is good, it's nothing compared to my triple fudge cake."

I had been watching my calories recently, but I wasn't going to disappoint Jimmie. He was right, it was fantastic.

It took all my restraint to get through dinner, but after I put on my strap-on and performed a clinic on how to make love to Jimmie. He was squealing in delight.

After it was over, Jimmie wanted me to stay and cuddle. But I wanted to get home. I didn't know when Mitchell would call and I needed to pick him up. I went into the bathroom to clean up before I went home. I had to clean off the strap-on. It was Jimmie's but I was the one using it. I also wanted to look at my hair. I had just gotten a new style.

As I entered the bathroom, I could hear Jimmie start singing. "No inhibitions! Make no conditions! Get a little out of line! Ain't going to act, politically correct..."

I turned on the water to clean off the strap-on. It drowned out Jimmie's singing. It took a little while to get it properly cleaned. I looked at my hair in the mirror. I was pleased that it didn't fall out of shape as my long hair would have after so much exertion.

When I was ready to go, I discovered that Jimmie had put on an apron. The apron and the high heels were the only things he was wearing. He was clearing off the table. He was still singing to himself, "Oh, oh! Really go wild! Doin it in style! Oh, oh, oh! Get in the action! The attraction, color my..."

"Look, I have to go," I said as I was walking towards the door. I gave Jimmie a kiss while he was still singing. Then I left without waiting for him to show me out.

Mitchell didn't make it home until the next morning. Mitchell could shower there, but I had to bring him clothes and drive him straight to school. I brought him male briefs, as underwear. I didn't know it, but this would be the last time he would wear male briefs in his life.

"How was babysitting?"

"I really liked it. The girls are so much fun and we had an awesome time. Heather wants me to babysit again," Mitchell explained. "Heather is the girl's mother."

"I figured that out. So you want to babysit some more?"

"Yeah, it wasn't like work. It was like playing. But don't worry, I'll still help with all the housework and stuff."

"I'm not worried. But I can't drive you back and forth all the time. You'll have to take a bus."

"OK, but I'm sure you can let me have to car sometimes."

"OK, sometimes, you can drive yourself." I thought to myself, "Let him take the car, he deserves it. Plus he'll be working and earning some money, that's a good thing. What trouble can he get into while watching a couple of girls?"

"That reminds me," Mitchell remarked, "I saw Dr. Zaaijer. He asked me to give you these."

"What are they?"

"Dr. Zaaijer is giving them to all his patients. They are just some vitamins, he thought you might need them since you are losing all this weight and all. He gave me some too. Yours are the red pills and mine are blue so we won't confuse them."

"Aren't they the same?"

"He said one is formulated for women and others for men."

"OK."

"I'll leave it with your juice in the morning. You can take them after your morning jog."

"I wanted to talk to you about that. You're making me entirely too big a breakfast. I'm trying to lose weight."

"Cooking is fun. I guess I'm just getting carried away. Besides I eat whatever you don't"

Another night, Mitchell and I were going over his school work. It was a problem that involved trains. When it was over I asked Mitchell, "Have I told you how your dad and I met?"

"Yeah, plenty of times."

"Oh, that. That is the G-rated version. I never told you the real story. You know your dad and I did it on the first night we met. I guess I knew right away that he was the one."

"You did?"

"You bet. I wasn't a mom back then. I was a horny young woman and it was my junior year in college. I hadn't been a virgin for over five years by then. To be honest, I was a slut."

Mitchell knew about all of Annaleigh's boyfriends now. He thought she hadn't really changed much. Mitchell thought she was still a slut, although now that they were becoming closer, Mitchell didn't like thinking that way anymore. Not about his mother. "I was a bit drunk at a sorority party that I had crashed. All the girls there were supposed to be sorority sisters, but what did I care. The worst they could do was to throw me out. Those girls got the best guys and threw the best parties, so I crashed it. I had been drinking for hours, but I wasn't totally out of it. I saw your dad and he was so fuckin hot. I wanted him. I moved in quickly. He was with this other woman, but I took care of her. Your dad didn't know what hit him. We did it in one of the upstairs bathrooms."

I went on and on about that night. I told Mitchell what I wore, who I was with, how I felt, everything. Things that were really personal that no boy should know about their mother.

"And do you know how I found him again?"

"Yeah, someone who knew both of you put you together."

"Not exactly. He fucking gave me gonorrhea and someone from the health department contacted me to warn me. That is how I found out his address. I guess he was kind of a slut too back then."

"Wow, I didn't know that." Mitchell knew the basics of what had happened, but none of the gory details before tonight. He didn't know what a slut his mother had been, nor that his dad had actually given his mother V.D. He thought it had been a respectable thing, not a night of tawdry sex.

But, I wasn't finished. I felt that I should tell Mitchell everything about my sex life. So I did. It felt great talking about these things. I didn't care that he was my son. I was just telling him stories of my life and the way things were. I was young and wild back then.

----------------------------------------

"Mom, Heather just called, I'm babysitting today."

"OK, have fun," I said.

"Can I have the car?"

"Sure, take it."

Even without the car, I could get around. The YMCA was only a few blocks away, it was no big deal to walk there. I wanted to get in a workout since Mitchell was gone and I couldn't practice my soccer moves with him.

I showed the attendant my card as I went in. She took a double-take to make sure it was me. My hair was now brown and I had lost lots of weight, especially on my face. But she saw it was me. She said I should get another picture when my subscription expired in the summer. I told her I would.

I hadn't been to the Y in a while as I was playing with Mitchell to get my exercise, but now that he would be babysitting from time to time I would need another place to work out. I was wearing my over-sized sweatshirt that used to belong to Mitchell although I wear it more often these days. I guess that is why when Roland saw me he called out, "What's up, man."

When he got closer he said, "Oh I'm sorry. I thought you were Mitchell."

"I don't know whether to be mad at you or to thank you," I said with a rye smile.

"Ummm, maybe neither."

"Hey, you can do me a favor."

"What?"

"I've been practicing soccer with Mitchell. Can you teach me a few tricks?"

"I don't know."

I was very persuasive and he had to agree. From then on, every time that Mitchell wanted to babysit I would arrange to play soccer with Roland. He showed me things that Mitchell never would. After a while, he didn't even think of me as Mitchell's mother. I was just his friend. He knew I would never tell his mother anything that he told me.

With the help of Roland, I started to improve. I was starting to become more than a match for Mitchell.

"Do you want to play with your friends?" I asked Roland.

"Can't, they already have an even number of guys. Usually, Mitchell and I join together."

"Maybe I can play with you?"

"With the boys? No way?"

"What if I wear this cap and hide my hair and put on this extra-large sweatshirt and pants?"

I knew Roland knew I was good enough to play with the guys.

"I don't know?"

"Let me try something." With a little make-up, I could make my cheekbones look a little lower and add a little faux stubble. "How about this?" I thought I looked like Mitchell.

"Try talking in a deeper voice?"

"Like this?"

"Close enough. Remember, your Mitchell, and don't scream in a high pitch voice when you do something good...or bad."

Playing in a real game, improved my skills such that when I played with Mitchell I could take him. That and that he wasn't practicing much as he was babysitting a lot.

"Hey, you know what it is. My pants are too tight. Maybe I should go on a diet like you?" Mitchell explained after I used a move I learned from Roland for the first time.

"No, you're just filling out as a man. Of course, your hips and thighs will fill out first, you need them for all that running while playing soccer."

"I don't know."

"Listen to me. I heard this once I'm not sure where but I think it applies to you. You have all the right junk in all the right places."

Mitchell noticed I was looking at his jeans, "Mom," he said a little embarrassed.

"You know I see those magazines, working the photoshop. We know that shit ain't real. Come on, make it stop. If you have beauty, beauty just raise-em up. Cause every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top."

Mitchell looked embarrassed that his mom was telling him this. I gave him one last piece of advice, "Don't worry about your size. 'When you meet someone,' they'll like a little more body to hold at night."

"I'm sorry a brought it up. Mom, let's talk about something else. Or better yet, let's just play some more."

"I do have some good news for you."

"What?"

"Well since you are doing so well in school and with everything else. I've decided to send you to that soccer camp you wanted."

"But, I thought you didn't have the money."

"I don't"

"Then how can I go?"

"You're going to get a job. You will be working while at the camp."

"How can I be at the camp and be a counselor too?"

"No, I got you a job where I work. They have a training facility by your camp. You will have to go there two weeks early and get some training. But then you can go to the camp during the day and work at the local Macy's at night."

"Great."

"It was Dr. Zaaijer's idea. You'll be staying at one of his places."

"I thought I would be at the camp."

"I told you you will be there two weeks early. You need to stay somewhere before the camp starts. It'll give you time to save money too. They'll pay you during training."

"Thanks, Mom. You're the best," Mitchell hugged me tightly.

"I knew you would love it. I've even gone ahead and bought you some work attire. You can't go to work wearing your plain old jeans and t-shirts."

The apparel was in the car. As I went to get it, I heard my iPhone beep that a message had arrived.

"Can you check on that?" I shouted.

"Sure thing Mom...It's Leona, she wants to know if you can pick her up tomorrow morning?"

"Tell her yes, at 10 o'clock or 10:15."

Mitchell did as he was told. Then he took the time to look through my messages. He found the hot messages between Annaleigh and Jimmie. Mitchell decided to repeat one of Mom's messages to Jimmie. I had said it before so he thought I wouldn't notice.

"Jimmie I'm fuckin so wet for you. I can't wait to do it to you like last time!"

"Mom had sent that exact message before. She wouldn't notice that it was sending a second time," Mitchell thought

I showed Michelle the slacks and button-down tops he would need. (Annaleigh as per Dr. Zaaijer's suggestion purchased these clothes from the women's department. These were the clothes that would fit Mitchell perfectly.)

"Do I have to?" Mitchell didn't like wearing more fancy clothes. He was a jeans and t-shirts kind of person.

"It's a professional atmosphere you have to. But if you don't want to go to camp, I can take it all back."

"No, don't do that."

I saw Mitchell looking at himself in the mirror. "Are you really worried about getting fat?"

"I don't know what is wrong with me."

"You are just filling out. It's nothing. But if you really think you have a problem. We have this type of clothes that'll make you look thinner."

"Really?"

"It's very tight and it goes from your thighs to your stomach. It'll make you look great."

"Are you sure it'll work?"

"I know lots of people who wear them. You see them advertised on TV sometimes. I can get you a few pairs. Wear it under your clothes and you won't have to worry about your weight."

"I'm willing to try anything."

Annaleigh bought her son some Spanx Higher Power Mid-Thigh Shaping Shorts. Annaleigh removed the tag containing the shaper's brand and size.

Mitchell tried it on and noticed right away that the compression fabric flattened his stomach, hips, and thighs. He was happy with the results. Under a long t-shirt, he looked much better. He didn't notice that his butt was being lifted and his waist was being narrowed more than they should. While wearing this garment, Mitchell stopped worrying about his weight.

Heather kept asking Mitchell to babysit more and more. He liked the money and the girls, so he didn't pass up an opportunity to work. This meant that he had to cut down on his other activities like soccer with his friends. Most days, Mitchell would have to come home after school, go over his homework and other school notes with his mother and then head out to babysit.

Heather would make great tasting but highly fattening meals for Mitchell and the girls to eat. Mitchell would heat them up for the family. Mitchell was gaining weight, but he didn't care as long as he had his special underwear to make him 'look thin'.

With Mitchell out, I went to the Y more often. Roland couldn't come as often as I liked, so I started to do some serious exercises. I decided that I would work my upper body as well as my lower. I was amazed at how well it was working. I was getting stronger every day. As I was losing weight from my boobs, I was gaining muscles underneath which compensated. I felt great.

The more compliments I got from my friends and neighbors, the more I redoubled my efforts. I was also getting really good at soccer. You know it's a really fun game, now that I am playing it. I was never very much into sports as a young girl.

While practicing with Roland, a couple of his friends challenged us to a game of two on two. I'm sure they were just trying to make fun of Roland for playing with me. But I accepted the challenge.

"No, we were just kidding," the boy said.

"Are you chicken," I retorted.

"No, I'm just..."

"Buck, buck, buck," I said as I flapped my arms like a chicken. "You're just scared because you know we'll beat you."

I did get under his skin and I wouldn't let him back away. Roland and I did beat the boys. They walked off with their heads hung low. "We weren't playing very hard. We let you win," they said. I high-fived Roland. I never felt so good.

"If you want a rematch, you know where we'll be."

While I was playing soccer with Roland and his friends, Mitchell was playing dress-up with two preteen girls.

The school year finally ended. Mitchell did well in his grades. He got over 90s in all of his subjects. I learned a lot too from studying with him all the time. I think I could have done as well on his tests as he did. I didn't even get that high a score when I was in high school the first time.

Mitchell had fulfilled his promise. I fulfilled mine. I made sure that he was in Macy's training program. He would learn all the departments so he could work anywhere in the store. I expected him to continue his job after the next school year began.

Mitchell was sorry that he couldn't babysit the girls anymore. They had become close, but that wasn't going to happen during the summer anyway. The family was leaving for the summer and wouldn't be back until fall.

I drove Mitchell to Dr. Zaaijer's mansion where he would be spending his time until soccer camp started. Mitchell got out of the car and headed towards the door. I didn't stay to see Dr. Zaaijer.

-------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Zaaijer saw Mitchell and was angry. "Look at you! I pulled lots of strings to get you into the soccer camp and you show up like this!"

Mitchell was taken aback. He was out of shape. He was so busy babysitting and doing other things, like housework, that he had gained a lot of weight. He wasn't in any condition to be in this high-quality soccer camp.

"I Ummm, I mean I."

"I don't care, we are going to have to get you back into shape. You are going to go on a strict diet. Lots of salads and vegetables. Nothing but grilled chicken and other lean meats. We just have to do something. Not only that, you know those pills I gave you. Have you been taking them?"

"Yeah."

"Well, we will have to double up on them from now on." Dr. Zaaijer shook his head. "To get in shape, you're going to have to start jogging in the morning. They expect you at 9:00 every day for training. You'll be there all day. They have a lot they want to teach you."

The next morning, Mitchell woke up early. He started his day off with a brisk walk. It was too early to start jogging. Then he returned to Dr. Zaaijer's house and took a shower. He had gotten used to using Annaleigh's shampoo and conditioner. He needed it now that his hair was getting longer.

After his shower, he started to get dressed for work. He put on his panties, he never wore male briefs anymore, and his special underwear. he needed it more than ever now that he had gained so much weight. Then he put on what amounted to a white blouse although it looked like an ordinary button-down shirt (Mitchell didn't notice that the buttons were on the wrong side) and a pair of brown slacks. The slacks were a bit tight at the waist, but what could he do. he put on his black socks, which were of course much thinner than his usual athletic socks and black shoes.

Then he made a lean breakfast for himself. There weren't any sugary cereals or breakfast meats. It was half a cantaloupe with some cottage cheese. He washed it all down (including his vitamin pill) with an herbal tea blend, something he had never done at home. But it didn't have any calories and that was all Dr. Zaaijer had in his house anyway. Mitchell didn't dare tell Dr. Zaaijer what to buy when he went grocery shopping.

He made it to Macy's employment center and sat down with the others at the orientation. Today he would grow familiar with the housewares section of the store. He would spend time in every section. Macy's wanted all their associates (it didn't matter their gender) to know every aspect of the store such that they could answer any question a customer could have. There were as many women covering the sports fan and mattress shops as there were men covering the shoes and fragrance shops. Macy's was proud of their equal opportunity status.

By the time soccer camp was about to start, Mitchell was still out of shape. It was true he was losing weight and his stomach and waist had improved, but his hips and thighs were problem areas. He didn't feel like he was ready to join the camp. Regardless, he told his mom that everything was going great. As far as at his Macy's training it was true, he was doing very well there.

They even had him working part-time at one of the stores. His training wasn't complete, but they had him in the fragrance department. All he had to do was stand with a bottle of the 'preferred perfume' and ask the customers if they wanted to sample a little as they passed him by. It was very easy, but someone needed to do it.

"Would you like to try some of our Shalimar Eau de Parfum Spray?" he would ask. Mitchell couldn't help but get the fragrance on himself while spritzing others.

The smell was very familiar to him, but he couldn't place it at first. Annaleigh had cut back on that fragrance. Especially when she was working out or playing soccer.

Not every day was busy at Macy's. On this particular day, it was raining outside and hardly anyone was in the store. There wasn't anyone to spray. At the make-up counter, the associate there wasn't having much to do either. But they had to stay, they were being paid. Macy's wasn't going to send them home either. As trainees, they weren't being paid much. Someone had to be at the store in case traffic picked up.

The make-up trainee, Emma had become a friend of Mitchell. She wasn't a teenager like he was, but she wasn't his mom's age either. With nothing to do and chairs at the make-up counter, Mitchell found himself sitting there.

"Would you like a makeover?" Emma joked.

"Hmm, I don't think so."

"I can help you, have you ever tried our Soleil Glow Bronze?" Emma went right into her sales pitch that she had been recently trained for. "Luminous! Hydrating! Buildable!" she announced. "This silky, comfortable, buildable bronzer features a luxurious mix of plant-derived butters to nourish and soften skin while giving a luminous lit-from- within glow. "

Mitchell looked back at her with an incredulous look.

Continuing she said, "You want your skin to glow, don't you?"

"Probably not."

"Yes, you do. We have a whole line of products, sit back and I'll show you how good you can look."

"But what if someone comes."

"No one is going to come. It's pouring outside."

Mitchell let Emma work on his face. Putting all sorts of creams and lotions on him. She explained what each one was and what it would do before applying as she would with a customer. She took her time, using everything she knew. She brought out his eyes, gave him the illusion of higher cheekbones, removed all the flaws from his face, smoothed and lighten his skin.

"Oh my god, you look like a woman!" Emma informed him.

"Let me see!"

Emma was right, with make-up his face looked very feminine. It reminded Mitchell of the older pictures he saw of his mother. There was a little problem. His hair wasn't right. But Emma fixed that. While Mitchell was looking at himself, Emma strolled over the wigs area and selected a blonde one for Mitchell.

When she put the wig upon him, Mitchell was the spitting image of his mother. It was then that his top seemed to look more like the woman's blouse it was than a simple button-down shirt that he thought. Once Mitchell was wearing Emma's shoes, he was dressed head to toe in female attire, although Mitchell had believed up until this point the only thing he wore that was for a woman were his panties, which he liked because they were so soft.

"I'll bet you could pass as a woman," she said.

"No way."

"You could walk into the lady's restroom and no one would bat an eye. You just need a couple of props."

"Props?"

"Yeah, here put on my earrings and my chain."

"I don't know."

"How about if you sat with your legs crossed like this."

Mitchell mimicked Emma.

"Here take this," Emma handed him a cigarette from her purse.

"I don't smoke."

"Don't worry, it's just there isn't anything more feminine than a woman with a cigarette. It'll also give you something to do with your hands."

"Like this?" Mitchell put the cigarette into his mouth. His middle and pointer finger around it.

Emma lit the cigarette. Mitchell pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. There was lipstick on the filter.

Mitchell got up off the chair and walked a few steps taking mock puffs on the lit cigarette.

"Try that with my shoes." After seeing Mitchell walk for a second, "Put one foot in front of the other and take my purse and no one would suspect."

"No way."

"I dare you to walk to the lady's room, go inside and come back."

"I'm not going to do that."

"I dare you. I double dare you."

Mitchell had wondered what it was like in the woman's restroom ever since that day with Roland. That was a long time ago. He couldn't try it then, but he looked very different now. Besides no one would be in there. He could go in and go out and no one would know. The store was empty. He could do it.

Mitchell knew he shouldn't, but he did anyway. He walked tentatively towards the lady's restrooms. He put one foot in front of the other. Mitchell wasn't going to enter, but he looked back at Emma. She gave him a 'go on' look and he entered the bathroom.

It took only a second for the shit to hit the fan. One of the store manager's entered the restroom right behind him and grabbed Mitchell on the shoulder. He was stunned speechless. The manager escorted Mitchell out of the restroom, through the store to the security office. Mitchell was terrified as he was made to wait.

The store called Dr. Zaaijer who was listed as Mitchell's emergency contact. The manager glowered at Mitchell while they waited for Dr. Zaaijer to arrive. Mitchell's makeup was still on his face, wig on his scalp, and earrings in his ears. He wanted to remove them, but the manager wouldn't let him. The manager's stare had Mitchell frozen in place.

Whenever Mitchell felt the mood had lessened, the manager would shake his head and seemed the say under his breath, "I should call the police and have you arrested."

To Mitchell's relief, Dr. Zaaijer arrived. It was only fifteen minutes but it seemed like an hour.

"Wait here while we have a talk." Dr. Zaaijer and the manager walked into a private office. Mitchell was even more scared now than before. At least Mitchell had the time to remove his earrings and wig. Some of his appearance as a woman had left him with the wig.

A short while later, Dr. Zaaijer emerged without the manager. "You aren't going to be arrested. But you are coming home with me. We'll call your mother when we get back. Get your things from your locker and wait for me in my car. I have to talk with the manager a little more."

Relieved, Mitchell left the office. He returned the wig and the jewelry to Emma who told him she was so very sorry. He got his 'things' from the locker, found Dr. Zaaijer's car and entered the passenger seat for Dr. Zaaijer to arrive.

Back in the security office, the manager was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. His thumb was in his mouth and there was a urine spot that was growing in his pants. Dr. Zaaijer looked at him.

"Did I do good daddy?" the manager asked quietly.

"Yes, you did very well. You're such a good boy."

The manager smiled at the words of praise from Dr. Zaaijer.

"He's gone," Emma told Dr. Zaaijer. She had just entered the security office. She was carrying the wig, shoes, earrings, and purse that Mitchell had returned to her.

"Good, you take care of little Tracie here. He had a little accident. Clean him up and take him home. I think he needs a little nap after all this excitement," Dr. Zaaijer said referring to the 'manager' in the corner with his thumb in his mouth and wet slacks.

"Yes, Dr. Zaaijer." Emma reached out a hand to Tracie to coax him to stand. Then she led him away to clean him up and take him home.

Dr. Zaaijer took the items from Emma and put them in a bag. Then he returned to his car. He saw Mitchell sitting in the front seat. He looked worried. He had been crying, although his make-up was 'waterproof'. It was designed not to run.

On the way to his house, Dr. Zaaijer asked Mitchell to explain exactly what happened. Dr. Zaaijer didn't need to hear it, he had put the entire plan into effect.

"I understand," Dr. Zaaijer reassured. "I'll explain everything to your mother. It'll be better if it comes from me. She's on her way here. She'll be here soon. Everything will be fine. I promise you. It'll all work out."

Mitchell started to smile. If Dr. Zaaijer told him something, it always worked out exactly as he was told. He had full confidence in Dr. Zaaijer. Mitchell was actually relieved that he didn't have to explain what happened to his mother. "Do you think so?"

"I'm sure of it. But I want you to put these back on. It'll be better if your mother sees you as you were. It'll help her to understand."

Mitchell looked into the bag. He found all the accessories he had worn: a wig, shoes, earrings, etc.

"You don't think it would be better if I cleaned this all up?"

"Well there are some cosmetics in your bag, you could fix your make-up if you like."

Mitchell didn't know how to do that. But Dr. Zaaijer knew that over the next couple of weeks Mitchell would know how to put on make-up that would make him look like Annaleigh.

"Don't worry about it, just the stuff in the bag will be fine. Your mother will be here soon."

Mitchell never stopped to think, how his mother could get here so soon. It was less than an hour ago that the manager had called. How could his mother get over there so quickly? Dr. Zaaijer had called Annaleigh long before anything had happened. Dr. Zaaijer's plans always went off without a hitch. He knew how it would all turn out.

When Annaleigh showed up, Mitchell was dressed how he had been when he walked to the lady's room. He was sitting (as how Dr. Zaaijer requested) which his knees together and his hands folded in his lap. He was smoking a cigarette. There were lipstick stains on the butts of more cigarettes in the ashtray.

"What's this," I asked.

"Annaleigh, I have something to tell you. This is how Mitchell showed up to work. His manager was called and he admitted to him and then me when I drove him back home, that he dressed like this because he admires you and he wishes he was exactly like you."

Nothing that Dr. Zaaijer said was true, but after saying it, Mitchell believed every word that Dr. Zaaijer had told Annaleigh.

Continuing Dr. Zaaijer said, "Not only has he been dressing in your clothes for a long time, but he has been smoking your cigarettes without you knowing. He's glad that he can finally admit it to everyone."

"Is this true?"

Mitchell didn't remember saying any of that, but Dr. Zaaijer said it was true, so it must be. Mitchell nodded his head.

"What should we do now?"

"Let's go into the other room and discuss it. Mitchell, you wait here for us."

Mitchell nodded again. He just took another drag on his cigarette. It was really calming him down. If he knew that it made him feel this good, he wouldn't have complained about his mother smoking so much. Annaleigh had actually quit permanently since Mitchell left for 'soccer camp'.

Dr. Zaaijer and I returned to tell Mitchell what we decided.

"If this is what you want. I think you should try it out. So, when I return home, in two weeks, it won't be me it will be you. You will tell everyone you are Annaleigh."

"What??? Where will you be?"

"I'll spend the rest of the summer playing soccer at the camp."

"You're a woman."

"I'll cut my hair and use an eyebrow pencil to make it look like I'm growing a beard. They haven't seen you, they won't know the difference. Why waste the money."

"But what about me?"

"You already look a lot like me. We'll get you hair extensions and tint your hair blonde like I used to have it. Make-up can do wonders. besides I've been losing weight, you'll just be the new, better looking me."

"What about your job?"

"I'll transfer to a different store. Hell a different company. Say Ummm, JC Penney's. They won't know me and they'll teach you their new procedures, it's not a big deal. I talked it over with Dr. Zaaijer. We can make this work. It'll be nice to have the summer off, and I'm getting real good at soccer. No one will know. If I'm not as good as you, who'll know the difference? Besides we paid for the camp, I can't get the money back."

"This is nuts. What do you think Dr. Zaaijer?"

"I think it'll work. You just need two weeks to practice being Annaleigh and no one will be able to tell you apart."

Mitchell realized if Dr. Zaaijer said it was possible, he must be right.

It was all going very fast, but when they filled out the application to be an associate at JC Penney and Mitchell signed the form as Annaleigh Wilson, he knew this was serious. he was going to live his dream, not only to be just like his mother but to actually be her. She wouldn't even be around. She'll be here playing soccer at camp and he would be all alone at his own house telling everyone he is Annaleigh.

Tomorrow he would start by going to a salon and making his hair identical to the style, length, and color Annaleigh have on her driver's license. That would be the first step. He would have to go to the salon alone. Describe how he wanted his hair styled (he would have his nails done too) and then pay for it by charge.

"But," Mitchell was about to say 'But mom,' he restrained himself. "I can't sign your signature."

"Don't worry about it. No one ever checks those things. Anything close is fine, just remember to sign it Annaleigh Wilson, not Mitchell Wilson."

Mitchell knew he would need a lot of cigarettes to keep him calm. Things were happening so fast.

"The first thing I want you to do," Dr. Zaaijer informed him. "I want you to say over and over, 'My name is Annaleigh. I am Annaleigh.' Keep repeating it over and over."

"My name is Annaleigh. I am Annaleigh. My name is Annaleigh. I am Annaleigh. My name is Annaleigh. I am Annaleigh," I repeated.

-------------------------------------------

I wake up early in the morning before Dr. Zaaijer or Mitchell. I sit up in bed, placing my feet on the floor. I say to myself one last time, My name is Annaleigh Wilson, I am a middle-aged woman. A lady doesn't tell her exact age. I live with my son, Mitchell. I am separated from my husband Mitch."

I get out of bed and look at my suitcase. My clothes are in there, everything I brought except of course for the nightgown I am wearing now. Inside the large suitcase, I find on tops and skirts. I haven't brought any pants with me at all. I put them on hangers after which I hang them up in the closet. Under that, I find my bras, panties, and hose. I take out my lingerie and place them neatly in the drawers. Under my lingerie, placed in plastic bags are my toiletries: shampoo, conditioner, liquid soap, toothbrush and paste, creams and lotions to keep my skin soft, perfume, my make-up, and a safety razor.

I have to take a shower, so I return to the closet to pick out an outfit and place it on the bed for later. Then I go to the drawers to selected my bra and matching panties for today. I've been losing weight so all my apparel is relatively new, so as to fit my shrinking form. Not that I don't still have a way to go.

I carry my lingerie, a robe, and toiletries to the bathroom. I put my toiletries away and start the shower. I take off my clothes and I get into the shower. The water is warm. I say to myself again, "My name is Annaleigh, I'm a woman."

I start to wash from top to bottom, I skip washing my hair, I'm going to the salon this morning, they'll wash it for me very soon. I wash my face first, then my shoulders, my chest, my stomach all the way down to my feet. All clean, I use some baby oil to make my skin slick so I can shave my underarms, legs, and my privates.

I get out of the shower, dry myself off, and get dressed in my bra, panties, and robe. I brush my teeth and put on some makeup. Not too much, just foundation, lipstick, and a little blush. I'll do a better job later after getting my hair done. I look at my hair...what was I thinking letting it get so short? I'll be happier when I'm back to being blonde. When my hair is longer, I'll have to blow dry it, but not today. My name is Annaleigh, I'm a woman.

I put on my shaper and then I get dressed in my black skirt. It descends a little past my knees. It's not quite a pencil skirt, but I can't take 'long' strides while wearing it. Then I put on my short-sleeved white blouse, it has a v-neck, puffed sleeves, and a smocked waist, and matching smocked cuffs at the bicep. I put my feet into my sandals with a small heel and I'm ready to go. My name is Annaleigh, I'm a woman.

I take my purse as I leave my room. Still, no one is up. Breakfast is a cantaloupe with cottage cheese, coffee, and of course a cigarette. After breakfast, I get into my car, program the salon's address in the GPS and drive there.

Entering the salon, I say to the receptionist, "Hi, my name is Annaleigh Wilson. I have an appointment." I sit down in the waiting area and smoke another cigarette while I am waiting. The tightness of the lower part of the skirt is a good reminder that I have to keep my knees together.

"You can't smoke in here," I was informed.

I was so nervous that I needed my cigarette that I stepped outside the door and finished it a few feet from the salon's entrance. I returned to see if it was my turn. It wasn't and took my seat again, but before long I was again waiting outside with a lit cigarette in my hand.

Before going in the second time, I looked at my face in a compact. The cigarette smudged my lipstick. I prepared it before entering again.

I have an old picture of 'Annaleigh'... I mean myself in my purse, I took it out to show the stylist what I want my hair to look like. She starts with the shampoo and I sit and relax. "My name is Annaleigh, I'm a woman. I'm separated from my husband, I'm a sales associate at JC Penney."

"What? I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention." I wished I could get another cigarette but that was clearly impossible.

"I asked, do you live near here?" the stylist said repeating her question.

"No, I'm here for a short time. I'm visiting my son, he goes to the soccer camp."

"How old is your son?"

"He's seventeen."

"You look hardly seventeen yourself."

"Thank you. That is so sweet of you to say." I knew this statement was coming. I smiled.

I tried to change the subject. "Hey, have you been working here long?"

I arranged that while my hair was drying to get my nails manicured.

I wasn't done until noon. Then I went up to the cashier and paid with 'my credit card'. I didn't have to sign a piece of paper, it was a virtual signature. I gave the stylist a ten dollar tip which I didn't charge all the while gushing at how wonderful a job she had done and complained that I didn't know why I had cut my hair so short before. Then I left. My skirt reminded me once again, I must take small steps. My name is Annaleigh, I'm a woman.

I don't know if the stylist knew I was really a woman or not. But it didn't matter, she did her job, took the money and I wouldn't see her again. I would be going home long before I needed to get my hair redone. I returned to my car and drove back to Dr. Zaaijer's mansion. I needed another cigarette, but before I lit up I touched up my lipstick.

"Where is Moo...Mitchell?" I asked.

"At soccer camp."

Dr. Zaaijer and I had a pleasant lunch at a restaurant. He was a perfect gentleman.

"I can't go in there!" I told him. "Not after what happened yesterday." Dr. Zaaijer was escorting me to the self-same Macy's that I had just been fired from the day before.

"Nonsense, you need some new cosmetics to go with your new look. I know someone who's an expert."

We walked to the cosmetic counter where Emma was working at the time, but she wasn't the associate who assisted me. Dr. Zaaijer treated me to all I would need from concealer to eyebrow pencil and everything in between. Then he took me to the jewelry counter where I had my ears pierced and bought an expensive pair of earrings.

I lit another cigarette the moment we entered the parking lot. We returned home. I spent the rest of the day watching videos on how to apply make-up.

Moo, I mean Mitchell returned to Dr. Zaaijer's place after soccer camp. I had been watching make-up videos all day, but she sat down with me and gave me a look of my own.

"Listen to me," Mitchell told me, "you can't just splash on make-up. Not like a teenage girl. You have to be judicious with your make-up. It has to be sophisticated. You start with this foundation which will lighten your skin. It'll make the blush stand out more as well as your lipstick and your eye make-up. You must pay careful detail to everything."

"But the video said I should..."

"You have two challenges. The first is just to learn how to wear make- up properly. Second, you have to use make-up to make you look older. The best way to do that is with sophistication. You are going to wear a lot of make-up, believe me. But it will look understated like you aren't wearing much at all. That's the trick."

"I see."

"First, concealer to removed any problem skin areas, say if god forbid you get a pimple or something. But most important is the foundations and blush. They have to work together. They will smooth your face and more than anything else bring out your best features."

"I have best features?"

"You have the Miller bone structure. Of course, you do." Miller was Annaleigh's maiden name.

I practiced putting on make-up throughout the next day while Mitchell was at soccer camp. I didn't apply the make-up the same way each time. I practiced different styles: a daytime style, a work style, an evening style as well as others. I took pictures to show Mitchell when he returned.

While practicing my application of make-up, Dr. Zaaijer told me I looked too serious. "Applying make-up should be enjoyable. Have fun with it."

He put on some music he thought I should like. Most of the songs he played I didn't recognize. They were mostly songs that were popular before I was born. Songs from the 80s and 90s and maybe some early 2000s. Dr. Zaaijer was right, these were really great songs. They became my favorites.

By the end of the day, my ashtray was filled with cigarette butts. I could see the different shades of lipstick on them. There were more than a half dozen shades when I was finished.

The styles were subtly (and sometimes not as subtly) different that Annaleigh's old style.

"When you back home, tell everyone. I want a new look for the new me. Women will understand what you mean," Mitchell told me.

The next evening with Mitchell we worked upon my new fashion sense. Annaleigh would get a style of her own. As with the make-up we wanted a sophisticated style that would connote femininity and maturity.

"No jeans or leggings. Leave those for lazy women who don't have any real style and teenagers. I think you should always wear tights. They should mostly be nude in color. Never wear white tights, those are for little girls. You can occasionally wear colored tights with the appropriate outfit and sometimes black tights, but never white. Remember that. Never wear white tights," Mitchell instructed.

"I understand. Always wear tights, never white ones. Got it."

"Your panties and bra always have to match your outfit or have some meaning. Certain panties can't be worn with certain apparel. The color might show through or those dreaded pantie-lines might be seen. You have to always be mindful of what you are going to wear over your lingerie. It should go without saying the bra has to match your panties and thus the rest of your outfit."

"There's an awful lot of work here."

"Yeah, but it's worth it. Always remember it's always worth it to look pretty," Dr. Zaaijer said. He was watching the progress.

Mitchell continued to explain everything to me. She told me everything I would need to pull off what was becoming my personal style. The tops had to be distinctly feminine. There had to be at least one element that would make it look silly if a boy wore it. Two or three elements would be better. I don't have much of a chest, so I had to learn techniques to make the most of what I have. This included using make-up to give the illusion of 'shadow' on my upper chest. I can't anything with a crew neck, that would look too boyish. The lower part of the shirt should flare to give the illusion of a narrower waist and wider hips. I'm supposed to portray an adult now, no belly exposing shirts of course. Those are for the kids.

I soaked Mitchell's tutoring up.

Since I wouldn't be wearing pants, (except occasionally maybe leggings under a long tunic) I had to know the proper length of the skirts/dresses. They would all be around my knee. Sometimes a little higher, sometimes a little lower, but never too low. I always want to show off my nylon clad legs and his pretty shoes. The tights do feel good on my legs. I think I enjoy wearing them most of all. (Annaleigh spent his time in an air-conditioned mansion. He might not feel that way all the time when he was outside in the heat.)

The next day, again while Mitchell was at soccer camp, I tried on my outfits and took plenty of pictures to show Mitchell when he returned. I had dozens of pictures of me in various outfits. Some I didn't even bother showing to Mitchell. I knew what he would say. There was one constant thing in every picture. I always had a cigarette. Somehow the cigarette was part of my outfit. It was definitely the most consistent thing about my look.

"That looks OK...That one??? Come on what did I tell you...You see how it makes you look like you don't have any..." were the variety of things that Mitchell would say.

I had to admit, Mitchell was right.

The two weeks that I was with Mitchell and Dr. Zaaijer flew by fast. They taught me everything I would need to be a woman in general and Annaleigh in particular. I AM ANNALEIGH!

I was on a strict diet and doing calisthenics. It wasn't that I was losing a lot of weight, it was more like my weight was being redistributed. I was gaining more confidence by the day, but I couldn't give up my cigarettes. They always calmed me down.

After a while, Mitchell didn't bother to come back. She was spending the overnight at the soccer camp with her friends and teammates. She moved into the camp's dorms with the rest of the boys.

Finally, the day came, I was going to go home for the first time. Mitchell would stay, she was still in soccer camp and it seemed was having a great time. Mitchell returned to Dr. Zaaijer's place for my last day. I saw her. She had lost more weight than I did. She had also bulked up her legs and shoulders. She told everyone she had to wear a bandage around her chest because of an injury. But with an OK medical form from Dr. Zaaijer, she was allowed to play with the rest of the boys.

What I noticed the most wasn't her muscles or anything else like that. Mitchell had a black eye.

"What happened?"

"Oh, we were playing and you know there were elbows flying. It's no big deal. Bumps and bruises are expected when you are playing competitively like we are."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be."

Mitchell never told me that after getting the black eye, she got up and beat the offending boy to a pulp. At least she would have if she hadn't been pulled off by others. She did make her point though. No one was going to mess with her again.

After saying goodbye to Mitchell and Dr. Zaaijer and thanking them for all their help, I drove myself home. The first thing I did when I got there was to call Leona.

"Hey girl," I said. I didn't even say who I was. Leona would know from the caller ID and I had practices talking like...I mean, I am Annaleigh Wilson.

"Where have you been?"

"Well I'm changing jobs, so I thought I would take two weeks and spend it relaxing at a spa. I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I look and feel great," I told her. "There is one thing, I think I need a new wardrobe. I want some new relatively youthful-looking clothes to go with my new self. Want to come with me to the mall?"

"Like you have to ask?"

Leona would be here soon, but there was time for a smoke. After which, I changed into a pretty sundress in lavender which I knew would flatter my skin tone. I made sure my hose didn't have any runs in it and put on some matching shoes. I wanted to impress Leona when she saw me. This would probably be the last time I wore this sundress. I wanted a whole new look that was entirely mine. The dress was very pretty though.

I smoked another cigarette while waiting.

"God damn!!! You look great!" Leona gushed when she first saw me. "It looks like you lost ten years."

I stood before her, striking a pose. I was smiling as I showed off my body. I was exuding confidence.

"Diet, exercise, and complete relaxation will do that," I told her brightly. "But there is one thing I miss?"

"What's that?"

"My girls. They left me with my weight. I sort of miss them." I said as I looked down at my chest.

"Don't be silly, you look great!"

If anything had changed in my appearance or mannerisms, Leona chalked it to my loss of weight or newfound confident attitude.

Leona and I had a lot of fun looking for my new wardrobe. She did most of the talking. She wanted to tell me all that had been going on since I had been gone. I let her talk. I was interested in what she had to say. Leona was disappointed that I had returned to smoking. "I just can't help it," I told her. "Please, I've come so far, let me have this."

"You're right. But you should quit."

"I should. But, I'm not. Please just let me have this," I implored again.

"All right," Leona said with a smile.

When I contacted Jimmie, I found out that his business fell apart and that he had to move in with his mother. He tried to make it sound like he was helping her out.

The truth, which he didn't explain, was that he was as dependent upon his mother as a nerdy twelve-year-old boy who had few friends. He was always with her and did anything she told him to do. Besides that, she picked out his clothes, made his meals, and even made his bed.

I wanted grandm...I mean, mom and dad to see the new me. I'm sure they will like what they see. I called them up.

"Hello."

"Hey Mom," I said with a smile that could be heard through the other end of the phone.

"Annaleigh, it's been ages. How have you been?"

"I've been great. Just great. I've lost some weight. I haven't felt this good in years."

"Really, how much did you lose?'

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. I'll have to show you. I want to come over."

"Sure anytime you want."

I made plans when as to when I would be there. Then we talked like mother and daughter for over an hour. Dad and I had a shorter conversation, but he was glad to hear from me and would also like to see me.

I selected a yellow sundress and came over the next day. They couldn't believe how much weight I had lost or how great I looked. There was one sour note when they discovered I hadn't quit smoking. But, whenever you are with your parents you have to expect at least one complaint.

I contacted Mitch later that week. I wanted to bring him back into our life. Maybe Dr. Zaaijer could give us all family counseling and help us return to a proper family. Dr. Zaaijer would certainly have to help explain what I had been up to.

I decided to meet him for a romantic dinner and lay the groundwork for when Mitchell got back.

"Hey, it's me Annaleigh," I told him over the phone.

"I know," Mitch said skeptically

"I've been thinking. We should get together. I've been thinking about us a lot recently."

"We've been all over this."

"But I have changed. I've really changed. I want a brand new start."

"What about that guy."

"There are no other guys. No guys besides you from now on. I've been a fool. I've changed so much. I just want to see you."

"OK where?"

"You know that Italian restaurant we used to go to. The one where I...I me we...you know?" Annaleigh had told me the story of her, Mitch, and the Italian restaurant long ago.

"Yeah."

"Let's meet there. I have so much to tell you."

"I don't know."

"I promise you won't be disappointed."

When the time for the date arrived, I got all decked out. All my outfits were new and I picked a wonderful satin and lace number that I knew Mitch would love. I didn't wear my wedding or engagement ring that would be too much. But I did wear an emerald ring that Mitch had given me on our tenth anniversary and some dangling earring that had special meaning for us. My make-up was perfect, my hair was awesome and I couldn't have been sexier.

When I saw him for the first time, I felt an excitement in the pit of my stomach I didn't expect. I was flying on cloud nine the entire evening. I knew Mitch felt it too. Nothing happened that night, but I knew we could be a family again. It would only need a little push from Dr. Zaaijer when Mitchell returned home.

Throughout all this time of letting all my friends and neighbors meet the new me, I also had to start my new job at JC Penney. They knew I had worked at Macy's before, but they told me they had their own way of doing things here. The first thing I did was go to personnel and fill out a lot of forms. It was all the same thing, name, date of birth, address, family, marital status, the usual things. It wasn't a big deal. Then they put me to work. It took a short while to get the hang of how JCP does things, but I figured it out. I was enthusiastic and friendly and before too long had made some friends with some of the staff. I didn't need to repeat to myself that I am Annaleigh Wilson. I already knew it for sure.

At the end of the workday, I made sure to take Jason who had been helping me adjust to my new environments. He was such a sweetheart. I had only met him, but I loved him so much. I don't mean like that, of course, but I think we could be really good friends. Everyone at work was so friendly, I loved them all. My biggest problem was that I wasn't allowed to smoke while working. But somehow I made it through the day. I never smoked in the store, that would be wrong and disrespectful even if I could get away with it. When I was allowed a break, I found myself outside, away from the building so it wouldn't look bad for the company, and smoked as much as I needed to.

--------------------------------------------

I was working out at home. Doing my aerobics, while listening to music, dressed in my leotard and tights when I heard the doorbell ringing. I put on my robe, cinched it at my waist, and walked over to answer the door. I turned down the music on the way. It was Roland.

Roland stood at the door stunned into silence.

"Hiya Roland, Mitchell isn't back from soccer camp yet," I reminded him.

"You look great, Annaleigh," Roland said as he looked me up and down.

I had changed a lot since I had last seen him. I had lost a lot of weight. Since starting aerobics, I was returning to a more womanly appearance. I was happy that my boobs had returned somewhat and my muscles which had overgrown (mostly in my arms and legs) had diminished to return to a more feminine state.

"I think you should call me Mrs. Wilson."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't seen you around the Y and I was wondering if you know, you would want to practice soccer again."

"I'm afraid my soccer playing days are over. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed playing with you. It's just that...that it isn't right for a grown woman to be with a young man such as yourself so much. I've also decided to do less strenuous exercises from now on. You know lots of stretching and things like that."

"Oh, I see. I just thought. I mean, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

"Don't be silly, it was nice seeing you. I'll let you know when Mitchell is back."

"Thanks, Annal...Mrs. Wilson."

"You are quite welcomed." I smiled at Roland to show there weren't any hard feelings.

Roland turned to leave. I hesitated to close the door as Roland walked away. I noticed his tight, cute butt. Then I turned the music back on and returned to my aerobics.

At the end of the summer, Dr. Zaaijer drove Mitchell back home. He spared me the trip and I was grateful. I was glad to see Mitchell and gave him a huge motherly hug.

Before I could do anything else, Dr. Zaaijer had Mitchell and me sit on the couch. He wanted to tell us something. Mitchell and I were in a trance.

"You are Annaleigh Wilson. You have always been Annaleigh and you will always be Annaleigh. You are a middle-aged woman. You live here with your son, Mitchell. Mitchell is 17 and will be a senior next year in high school."

Dr. Zaaijer explained the obvious facts of our lives. and then he told me to forget that he was there at all.

"Mitchell, how was camp?" I asked.

"I had a really great time. It was so much fun."

Waiting for the right time in the conversation to drop it in I told him, "I've been seeing your father while you were away. I think we can be a real family again. I'm going to call Dr. Zaaijer and see if he can arrange some counseling for us. I want this to go right."

"Really? That's fantastic," Mitchell told me. It was his turn to give me a hug.

I was never going to make the same mistake with Mitch again. We would restart our family with a visit to Dr. Zaaijer.

Mitch, Mitchell, and I entered the waiting room. I told the receptionist we were here and she told us to wait a few moments. "Dr. Zaaijer was with another family, but they would be finished soon."

I smoothed my skirt under me as I crossed my legs and sat down next to Mitch. I took a cigarette out of my purse and lit up. I couldn't help but to realize how far my family had come. It really all started on the night of Joanna's wedding. Back then I was over-weight and lonely. Mitch was mostly out of my life. My life wasn't going anywhere.

But now, I am thin and I feel great. I've lost so much weight and I'm full of energy. I feel and look more than ten years younger. I have a waist again and now that I'm doing aerobics, my boobs have come back too. I was worried for a while that they were gone forever, but Dr. Zaaijer was right, with the right exercises they would return.

Mitchell is doing much better too. He used to be a skinny nerdy boy without one girlfriend. He's filled out nicely. He isn't a shy boy anymore; he is a handsome man. He has that stubble beard that all the girls seem to love. It goes with his broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. He can have any girl he wants. He actually fights them off with a stick. I can't keep track of all the girls he has had recently.

Mitch isn't working as much anymore. He spends much more time with Mitchell and me. He's about to move back in with us. There is just one last thing and everything will be perfect. That's what we are here for.

It wasn't long before Dr. Zaaijer was escorting a middle-aged man and an older woman out of his office. The man left the office wearing a bomber jacket over a gray hoodie. He was wearing an overly long pair of black jeans that were bunched up to his black sneakers with white laces. The sneakers were definitely laced, but not knotted. It was something I would expect to see at the playground by a junior high school.

"I had a nice talk with Jimmie," Dr. Zaaijer told the woman. "He won't give you any more trouble. He'll listen to what you tell him. If he doesn't just threaten to take away his XBox or just ground him. That should do it."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Dr. Zaaijer turned to me and asked Mitch and me to come into his office alone.

"I want you to be vulnerable to each other. Take off all your clothes please."

"Annaleigh," he said to me. "tell Mitch that you cannot love anyone else but him."

"He knows that."

"Tell him anyway."

"I can't love anyone else but you."

"Mitch, you see your wife, Annaleigh."

"Yes."

"She is as beautiful as ever, isn't she? From her hair to her breasts, to her dick, to her toes. You couldn't love another person any more than you love her."

"Yes."

"Tell her."

"Annaleigh, I will love you forever."

"You can get dressed now"

--------------------------------------------

At his school, Mitchell saw Trina and her two friends walking. Mitchell got between Trina and her girlfriend on the left and put his arms around both girls.

"Hiya girl," he said confidently.

Hi Mitchell."

"Trina, I've been looking for you. Come and see a movie with me." Mitchell said confidently. He didn't ask her for a date. They hadn't been dating up to this point. It was more than a request, it was simply a statement. Trina was attracted to Mitchell's take-charge attitude. He had also bulked up quite nicely since the spring before. Everyone at the school noticed the change in Mitchell.

Trina held out for a few moments before giving into Mitchell's demands. Mitchell kissed Trina. It wasn't like the passionate kisses he would give her later, but it did portend what was to come.

"Look I have to go, I'll see you later," Mitchell told the group and he was gone.

"Wow, how did you do that?" Roland asked. Roland saw the entire scene.

"All you need is a little confidence. Dr. Zaaijer helped me out with all that stuff. Made me a completely new person. You should see him."

----------------------------------------------

We didn't need to see Dr. Zaaijer again. But, we would tell anyone who needed family counseling how much he helped us.

Weeks later, "Mom can I borrow the car?"

"The car?"

"Yeah, I have a date with Trina tonight. I don't want to take a bus."

"I think so. I like Trina, she's a great girl. But I know why you like her. She's really Ummm, how should I say it, put together."

"Mooommmmmm!!!"

"You can have the car. I'm planning on a quiet night at home with dad."

I'm glad that Mitchell will be out tonight. It'll give me and Mitch some alone time. He hadn't moved back in too long ago. I'm going to show him how much I love that he is back.

In the bathroom, I'm getting ready. My peignoir was long, but my panties underneath were tiny. I spent an hour putting on my makeup. I decided to give myself more of an innocent look to contrast with my naughty barely- there panties. I touched the entire thing off with my favorite perfume. All the while I was listening to music. Mitch will wait for me. He knows it's worth it.

An old song was playing on the radio. I prefer the older songs. I started to sing along with it as the chorus came on, "I'm a little bit of everything all rolled into one. I'm a bitch, I'm a lover I'm a child, I'm a mother. I'm a sinner. I'm a saint. I do not feel ashamed." As I left the bathroom, I continued, "I'm your hell. I'm your dream. I'm nothing in between." I stood in front of Mitch for a second who was already in bed. He could see me. He continued the song, "You know I wouldn't want it any other way!!!" I of course used the actual line from the song "You know YOU wouldn't want it any other way!!!"

"So TAKE ME as I am." I emphasized the words 'Take me'. "This may mean you'll have to be a stronger man. Rest assured when I start to make you nervous and I'm going to extremes. Tomorrow I will change and today won't mean a thing!"

I then jumped into the bed and into Mitch's arms. I moved back a little with my knees straddling Mitch's legs and stared hungrily at the crotch of his pajama bottoms. Mitch never wore the tops. I saw the excitement and continued singing the song that I really liked.

"I'm a bitch. I'm a tease," as I was playing with his cock from outside his pajamas at the same time. "I'm a goddess on my knees when you hurt when you suffer. I'm your angel undercover.

I've been numb. I'm revived. Can't say I'm not alive. You know I wouldn't want it any other way."

End.