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Archive-name: Changes/larrysgf.txt

Archive-author: Donna Baker

Archive-title: Larry's Got A Girlfriend

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

"Baloney!"  Mike always had an answer.  "My old man showed me a book

where it says Kennedy's a communist!  If Nixon don't win, the whole

army'll kill Kennedy and all the communists and everybody, and he'll be

President, anyway!  What do you know!  You're only in sixth grade!"

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

"Aw, shut up, sissy!" yelled Mike, and the others quickly chimed in,

Randy loudest of all.  Larry just stopped and turned his back to them.

They left after a minute, laughing while they walked.  He tried to

remember what his mom had told him, that they just called him a sissy

because they knew it made him cry.  He knew he wasn't a sissy!  Why did

they keep saying it?

Larry chose to take the short cut home, the one through the little

three-story professional office building, to avoid further teasing from

his classmates.  He knew the path through the lobby, out the back, and

over the fence to his own block.

As he passed under the lobby stairs, he looked up at the sounds of

footsteps in the otherwise empty room.  An attractive woman had stopped

about five steps from the top, going through her purse and mumbling to

herself.  That's one reason he liked this short cut; there were plenty

of "real pretty ladies" there, ladies who wore stylish dresses and

high-heeled shoes and lots of makeup, just like on TV.

He approached the stairs quietly, and more than a little fearfully.  She

was standing right by the rail, and the lad realized that his every step

closer to her let him see further up her dress!

The awestruck boy just stood there, staring up.  Her lightweight wool

circle skirt swished and swayed around her legs with her least movement.

Larry could see her slip beneath it, and was surprised that it wasn't

white, like his mom's slips, but beige, with a frilly lace hem.  Her

shoes were remarkably tall, with narrow spike heels more than four

inches high.  They were the highest heels he'd ever seen!  They were

exactly the same yellow color as her sweater.  Her hair was blond and

long, and flowed in counterpoint to her skirt when she'd turn her head.

When she bent over to pick up a box, he thought for a second she'd seen

him.  He ducked under the stairs and held his breath as long as he

could.  He knew he shouldn't be peeking like this, but it really was an

accident, and anyway, it wasn't his fault if he just stood there, was


After a few more agonizing seconds without hearing anything from above

him, he stuck his head tentatively out from the shadows, scanned the

empty room, and looked up, again.  This time, he was really surprised.

The woman had put one foot up on the next higher step, resting the box

on her knee to look through it.  Larry could see farther than ever up

her skirt!

The boy was entranced with the feminine vision thus displayed.  The long

curve of her sheerly clad leg was visible right up to the darker shade

of her stocking tops.  He didn't really understand why, but looking up

into the inviting lace and nylon cavern somehow made his penis crawl

inside his shorts, like when his dad drove over a bump in the car when

he wasn't expecting it.

When the woman turned and walked down the stairs, he suddenly started

walking too, as if he'd just come in.  He was blushing bright red,

afraid he'd been discovered, but she gave no indication.  She walked

straight back to the door, about three steps ahead of him.  As he

followed her, Larry studied her magnificent derriere, appreciating it on

a subliminal level.  The enticing roll of her hips was pretty, not lewd,

to a boy who still didn't fully comprehend the facts of life.  He

attributed it to her high heels.  Thinking about the slip and stockings

under those swaying globes kept his bug feeling "funny."

They got to the door, and she stopped.  She looked right at him, and

smiled her warmest, biggest smile.  "Could I persuade a handsome

gentleman like you to help me get this box of music out to my car?" she

asked.  Somehow, she sounded like she really meant the "gentleman" part;

she wasn't making fun of him, like the boys had been.

"Sure, Ma'am!" he said, trying to use a real deep voice so he'd sound

older.  He took the box and backed through the door, holding it open for


"It's Miss, and thank you!" she nodded.  She sidled through the door

with her breasts pointing right at him, almost grazing his chest!  She

was as old as his mother, but her carefully painted face mesmerized the

boy.  Her eyebrows were sculpted to perfection, her pouty lips painted

bright red, and the dose of perfume she'd added on the stairs

overwhelmed his senses.

He dropped the box in her trunk and then ran around to open her car

door.  He wasn't at all prepared for her next move -- she leaned forward

and kissed him on the forehead!  As she swept past to climb into her

car, her sweater-covered breast brushed his shoulder, and when she sat,

her skirt slid up to reveal her tawny stocking tops.

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

He just stood there, looking at her legs.  He didn't want her to leave,

or even move, not for ever and ever!  "Uh, that was a box of music?" he

mumbled, praying she'd stay for just a second more.

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

"No, Ma'am ... I mean, Miss.  I used to, but ..."  He trailed off as he

recognized the little round black and silver garter doohickie that held

up her stockings.  He'd seen his mom's a few times.

The door closed without her ever pulling down her skirt.

She reached out the window.  "Here's my card.  Perhaps your parents will

let you take lessons."  Larry watched her all the way out the driveway.

She waved at him before she pulled out into the street!  He waved back,


When he turned around, there were Mike and Randy and the other boys.

They started sing-songing, "Larry's got a girlfriend!  Larry's got a

girlfriend!" and laughing and pointing at him.  That's when he figured

out that she'd left a lipstick mark on his forehead!  He turned and ran

away, jumping over the fence.  He took a moment to catch his breath,

determined to remember every single instant of his rapturous encounter

with the most beautiful woman in the world!

He floated all the way home, stopping to touch his forehead every few

steps.  He could see a little bit of pink on his fingertip.  Sure, the

boys' teasing had hurt him.  But, it was worth it!


"Miss Dorothy Glamis, private piano lessons," the card said.  All of a

sudden, music was the most important thing in Larry's world!

His mom had arranged piano lessons when he was younger, but "the stupid

teacher got mad at me for no reason," and suspended the lessons, which

was just fine with Larry.  She was skeptical when he suddenly wanted to

become a young Van Cliburn, but a thirteen-year-old can be pretty

persuasive to a mother who loves him.  "I know a lots better teacher

than old Mrs. Moore," he told her.  It took two weeks, but he got his

way.  Larry could hardly wait for his first lesson.

Dorothy was equally excited!  She'd stopped on those office stairs

hoping to catch a man, preferably in the vulnerable 45-55 range, and one

with money, to boot.  The real estate offices downstairs were well-

stocked with them.  Instead, she had found an exquisitely beautiful boy

peeking peeking up her dress, and on the spur of the moment, had vamped


Until his mother had called her to arrange lessons, she hadn't given the

boy any further thought.  She had never tried to mix her music with The

Cause.  The Cause she'd devoted her life to.

Revenge on the world of men!

It suddenly dawned upon her the day after she'd agreed to take him on on

as another student.  She had here a chance to make up for some of the

jerks who had used her talent and her desire for success as nothing more

than a tool to get into her pants.  She had it well within her power to

save the world from one more selfish, domineering, insensitive, arrogant

male beast.

She could transform the little snot into a woman!

When she opened her front door for his first lesson, he almost peed his

pants!  It was just a shirtdress, but it was made of shiny red nylon,

belted around a waist so tiny he could have closed his hands around it.

More importantly, though, the shirt front was open, displaying a

cleavage that would have stunned any man!

The dress wrapped around her globes like slick red gloves, squeezing her

heavy breasts until they bulged from between her lapels.  Her skirt

flowed outward from her tiny waist over layers of petticoats that

swished loudly as she walked.

He just stood there, staring at her bodice.  She spoke gently, inviting

him in, then asked him about school and home.  Before long, he relaxed

enough to respond.  He'd never met a woman so pretty, nor one so nice to


She led him to the piano -- a big, shiny black upright with a mirror

across the front.  She set out the same beginner's book Mrs. Moore had

used, and had him show her what he'd learned.  It wasn't much.

"This is the beginners' method I like to teach from," she said, and put

down a short little green book in front of his old tall one.

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

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

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

And next to him, he could see Miss Glamis -- just from her chin down.

She was standing behind him, and her jugs were hanging right over his


It was several long seconds before she stepped aside so he could no

longer see her, and several more before he recovered enough to try the

piano, again.

He couldn't get enough of her as she moved in and out of his line of

sight!  At first, he tried not to look, but then he realized that, since

the mirror cut off his view of her face, she couldn't see his either, so

he experimented more boldly with his stares.  As she gave no sign of

noticing his interest in her breasts, he concluded that she didn't know

he was ogling her almost constantly between exercises.

The book was really tough, but he was absolutely determined to play his

best.  He didn't even consciously realize why he was suddenly trying so

hard, but Dorothy knew!  Whenever he'd make mistakes or let his

attention wander, she would step out of his view.  When he did it right,

she'd snuggle up close, so that he could feel her big fluffy skirt

pressing against his elbow, and see her enormous bustline filling the


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

progress, indeed!

And when it was finally time to go, she bestowed upon him the grandest

prize he could imagine -- another kiss!


Dorothy watched him carefully as she opened the door for his second

lesson, noting that his eyes were much more interested in her silky

white blouse than in the way her pencil-slim skirt hugged her full


"We're going to duet, today," she announced, and sat right next to him

on the bench.  Her cool sleeve constantly tickled his arm as they

played.  With her body so close, he couldn't help but look right down

into the deep V of her decolletage, where he caught occasional glimpses

of the delicate white lace that cupped her warm treasures.

The lad honestly didn't associate the sight of her flesh with sex, per

se; he just knew that Dorothy was beautiful, and that he felt really

funny every time her bra showed.  Pretty soon, he was so worked up he

couldn't function any longer.  He just sat there, his wide eyes drowning

in the depths of her bosom.

She cleared her throat, causing her breast flesh to jiggle, but also

shaking Larry from his reverie.  He looked up into Dorothy's eyes, and

saw immediately that she knew he'd been staring at her breasts.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" he cried, quickly turning white, then red, as he

dropped his head in shame.  "I'm stupid! stupid! stupid!" he thought to

himself.  "I shouldn't start at her like a maniac!  She'll throw me out,

or have me arrested!"

"What's wrong, Larry," she solicited, reaching down and taking his

sweaty hand between hers.

"I'm sorry, Miss Glamis," he said, the tears starting to flow.  "I was

staring at your titties ... I mean ...  Oh, Jeeze!  I'm sorry!  I ..."

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

right, I understand!"

Between sobs, he managed to look up, again.  Her friendly smile

reassured him.  "You mean, you're not mad at me?"

"Just because you think I'm pretty?  You can't help looking at me when I

wear something this nice.  I wore this just for you, Larry.  It makes me

feel very feminine when a young man admires my appearance.  Do you think

I'm pretty, Larry?"

"Oh, God, Miss Glamis!  You're the prettiest woman in the world!"  She

smiled disbelievingly, coaxing another complement from him.  "No,

really!  You're the prettiest woman I ever knew.  Ever!  You're even

prettier than Mrs. Hampton, that used to teach seventh grade math, and

all the guys said she musta been a movie star, once!"

"I'm sorry if it disturbs you when my arm touches yours, but that always

happens when we play duets."

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


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

"I certainly do!  It's wonderful to be a girl and feel pretty clothes

against your skin all day."  She said, stroking her own arm.  "I'm very


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

It was fortunate that Larry had dropped his dejected gaze, for even he

would have noticed the slow blinking of Dorothy's big, brown eyes as she

struggled to control herself.

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

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing.  I was just trying to think of something so my blouse

wouldn't bother you, but I couldn't very well take it off, could I?"

"Oh, no!" he responded quickly.  He honestly had not imagined her

without her clothes.

"Of course, I couldn't!  But I just thought that maybe, if you had

something similar to wear, then mine wouldn't bother you so much.  I'd

change to something rough, like your shirt, but I just don't have

anything like that!  Oh, well, you wouldn't want to wear something soft

and feminine like this, anyway, even if it was really a boy's shirt."

"You mean you've got a boy's shirt made out of this kind of stuff?" he

asked, pointing to her sleeve.

Within another minute, both of them were shivering as Larry slid his

naked torso into a cool, slick white silk blouse.  Dorothy fastened the

buttons down his chest so he wouldn't notice they were on the wrong


Suddenly all business, Dorothy led him back to the keyboard.  It was all

she could do to finish the lesson without grabbing him and smothering

his face in her bosom!  For Larry, the hour seemed to be over before it

had started.  He stalled as long as possible until she pulled the lovely

blouse from his narrow shoulders.

"See you next week," she smiled after planting a longer and wetter kiss

than before upon his forehead.

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


She had not anticipated the rapidity of the child's enslavement to her

beauty, and it made her all the hungrier.  She suspected correctly from

his obvious innocence that he had never even masturbated, much less

experimented with girls his own age.  That very innocence would have

tickled her sense of decency enough for her to release him, had it not

also tickled her sexuality.  She was as much trapped by her passions as

he was.

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

down," he heard her shout.

He didn't recognize the Debussy, but the sensual strains could not help

but relax him as he admired her skill.  He saw immediately that she was

wearing the same blouse as last time, and dared to hope she would loan

him the matching boy's one, again.  His penis started crawling as his

wandering gaze picked up the silky white garment on a hanger over the

door to the kitchen.  He wished he could see her pretty face in the

piano mirror, but the music was in the way.

She held down the last soft, delicious chord for several long seconds

after the sound stopped, anticipating the pleasure to come.  A wooden

"thunk" sounded as she released the ivories and spun to face her prey.

His open-jawed stare was everything she had hoped for.  She had applied

full stage makeup, today, as if ready for the Hollywood Bowl!  Her brows

were penciled in an upswept arc, her cheeks ruddy, and her features

emphasized with unsubtle shading.  Her eyes were resplendent with heavy

blue shadow and white highlights, black liner, and enormous false

lashes.  Her lips had been enlarged with the careful application of

several shades of liner and paint, with a film of glycerine to keep them

sparkling-moist.  Knowing that nothing was too outrageous for the

inexperienced boy, she had even indulged in a beauty mark!

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


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

"Uh, yeah ... I'm sorry," he mumbled.  It took him some time to unfasten

his own shirt, as he was unable to tear his eyes away from his

enamorata.  She simply smiled, and let him drink his fill while she

buttoned up his blouse.

Of course, he could not begin to concentrate after they sat down.  Try

as he might, he could not lower his eyes from the mirror to the lesson


"You're beautiful!" he sighed.

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


She suppressed a giggle, then explained.  "I've got a performance,

tonight, after your lesson, so I put on my stage makeup early.  Everyone

who performs has to put on lots of makeup.  Otherwise, the bright lights

make you look like a blob of dough."

She was lying about the performance, of course.  Her career in this city

had ended the moment she had landed her pointed toe in the crotch of the

unashamed lech who presided over the Symphonic Association.

She repeated herself.  He had not picked up her suggestion, the first

time.  "Even the men and boys have to wear makeup on stage, Larry."

"You're beautiful!" he repeated.

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

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

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

He looked momentarily puzzled.  Was he ...

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


"Of course, you will, sweetheart."  She forced herself to stay calm.

"It's not a sissy thing, at all.  You know, Roy Rogers and Gene Autry

wear makeup when they make their films."


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

into her bedroom.

He hardly noticed the frilly pink lace decor of her boudoir, intent as

he was on her overwhelming presence.  The whole time she worked on his

face, she kept a monologue running to distract him.  He was perfectly

happy to sit passively, while she applied the contents of one mysterious

bottle or jar after another.  The shiny little black mole glued to her

cheek was the sun around which his eyes orbited.  They watched her

glistening lips work, and wondered at her fluttering lashes, but always

returned home to the artificial beauty spot.

"There!" she announced, as she pinned a chignon to the back of his head

and applied a final heavy dose of hair spray.  That broke his attention

from her face.

"What are you doing?" he finally questioned.

"Thank God he didn't have it in a butch!" she thought to herself.  "I

don't know if I could have gotten a wig on him!"

"All done!" she said aloud, and spun him to face the mirror before he

could realize that she had been doing more than he imagined.

She leaned over slightly, so she could support his suddenly-weak

shoulders.  Her smile was radiant, and his totally blank.

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

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

He realized that one of them was himself.

And he liked it!


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

"Even more beautiful than me!" she cooed.  She thought she was lying,

but an impartial witness might well have agreed.

His hand reached up to touch his face, but she stopped him.  "Careful,

you mustn't smear it."

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

playfully.  He tried.

His soft, brown eyes got suddenly bigger.  He spun to face her and

almost shouted!  "Miss Glamis, I'm beautiful!  I'm beautiful!"

Dorothy pulled herself back suddenly and shot a look to the ceiling,

trying desperately to hold herself together.  Larry hardly noticed.  He

had jumped up to put his face up close to the mirror.  "I'm even

prettier than Linda Perry, and she's the prettiest girl in the eighth

grade!" he squealed.

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

Her program for the boy suddenly expanded tenfold!

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

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


"You can look in the piano, sweetheart!  Now come on, and let's get some

lessons in!"  She maintained her cheerful disposition, and didn't show a

trace of impatience.

And now, to her astonishment, Larry tackled the lessons vigorously,

instead of lolling and staring at the mirror.  He accomplished more in

the next twenty minutes than he normally would have in the whole hour!

Larry's glowing face glanced upwards frequently, basking in their

reflections, but his primary focus was on the music.  She could only

shake her head, and defer her planning for his future while she

scrambled to keep ahead of him in the music lesson.  It was not until

alarm clock signaled the end of his time that she remembered it would

take at least fifteen minutes to cleanse the child's face.

"Promise we'll do this again, next time!" he pleaded as she flushed the

cold cream off with the water gun from the kitchen sink.  She called his

mother to apologize for the lesson running over while he toweled off.

She was startled when she turned around to find him wearing the blouse!

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

just for a moment.

"Certainly, Larry," she smiled, thinking frantically.  What were his

friends' names?  The ones he talked about who had teased him?

"I'm so happy for you, Larry!  Mike and Randy will really be surprised

when the see how pretty you are!"

In an instant, his face matched the show-white blouse perfectly.  "Um

...  Maybe I better not wear this home, Miss Glamis.  I better just wear

my shirt, you know?"

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


He wouldn't be telling!

After he left, she pondered the speed of his transformation.  It had

literally taken her breath away!  "Damn it, Dorothy!" she chuckled.

"You're a genius!"

She was too proud of herself, too full of dreams of revenge, and too

much a slave to ignorance, to realize the truth.  On his very next

visit, she decided, she would have him in frilly undies, hose, heels,

falsies, and skirt.  And on the visit after that -- anything!

The woman was so wrapped up in her plans, she couldn't see the truth.

She thought she was weaving an evil net around the boy to drag him into


And while it was true that she was starting inexcusably early, tampering

where she didn't belong, it was also true that she was liberating him.

She was saving him.

For all the wrong reasons, Dorothy was giving Larry a chance that very

few of his generation received.  A chance at an adolescence and

adulthood that would bypass a mountain of confusion, self-loathing,

physical and mental abuse -- and possibly, suicide.

A chance to become the woman that God had intended!



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