I like to daydream. On the way home from school I walk under the tree branches. On a sunny day like today the light shimmers between the leaves. They divide the sunshine into individual beams. I squint and the some of the beams resolve themselves into taut wires. I look at the pattern they make on my arm and how it changes as I move. It’s warm and I feel cozy and safe.
Where the leaves block my view of the rooftops, they also block the aim of the girls hunting me with their mind-control ray guns. Suzy, Janet, and Debby are up there today. I can take a few hits, but each one weakens me for the next. After eight hits in one block, I can’t resist anymore and I’m under their control. Each hit reduces my will to keep dodging under the trees. The first hit hurts, but then they start to feel good. I hear them telling me to show myself, that it’s not so bad, that it’s actually fun. I shake it off and move carefully. By five hits, it takes all my willpower to ignore their suggestions and not expose myself on purpose. If I can make it to the corner with seven or fewer hits, crossing the street while out of range of their guns renews my strength and we start over on the next block.
Today they got me on Cimmaron, just before I could make it across to Diablo. Only two blocks from home, but now their suggestions are going straight to my brain and have become my own thoughts. After the first few moments I don’t even see the difference. I just think and do like always, but now my own thinking voice inside my head is a girl’s voice.
Instead of Bobby, I’m Bobbi. When I see the girls now, I’m one of the gang. When I see boys on the street, I’m a girl seeing the boys. When I get home, if I can, I’ll find some of Mom’s panties and a bra and go wear them in the attic bedroom behind the locked door.
I so want to be pretty! I want to pick out cute outfits, a new hairstyle, and be noticed for them. Mom says that a pretty girl can always wrap a boy around her little finger and make him do whatever she wants. That sure beats being the shrimp getting picked on and made fun of all the time.
I want to wear a pink sweater like Suzy had on today, or better yet borrow hers at our next sleepover, and then in Algebra watch Mark stare at my breasts when he thinks I’m not looking. Deep breaths, in and out, just the way you like it. Knowing you’re staring and wanting to be with me. Thinking of things to say, how to bump into me and make it look accidental, walk me home, get me to let you touch me, thinking about me when you touch yourself later. Everything about me excites you and you can’t concentrate on anything else. My shoes, my nail polish, my smile, my giggle, my hair, my legs, they all give you that boner you love but can’t control. The one you rub against the desk leg “by accident” every chance you get, when you think no one notices. Then I’ll have you, wrapped around my little finger, showing you off to the other girls and making you do tricks.
That’s why I feel so good wearing the bra and panties. I feel the power and I have to have it. Bobby doesn’t have it, but Bobbi does. Of course I play with myself and am very careful not to get any on the clothes. I have to put them back, unnoticed, later.
After I come, I feel sad. While I’m good at daydreaming, I’m not good enough. I see myself in the mirror ¬– the loser Mama’s boy in Mommy’s clothes. I know I’m not pretty, that I’ll never have the power, but I only feel alive in its presence. So my Fate is to surrender to a girl that has it and to be her pet. That way at least I can still feel it and be part of it. Some men may have sexual power over women, but I’m not one of them. For me, all the current runs the other way.
I think about girls all the time now. I look at them just as I imagined being looked at as Bobbi. I can’t help myself. I’m going to belong to a girl one day and it scares me. I’ll know all her moves, I’ll know exactly what is going on, but I won’t be able to resist and her whims will be my duties. Seeing her do it to me, feeling humiliated by my weakness, and letting it happen anyway, somehow makes the pleasure exquisite. I get hard just imagining it. I have to have it.
I take off the bra, keep the panties on, open the window and lean out. There’s no cover now from the trees and I’m under constant fire. I’m leaning out in the open with my chest exposed and taking dozens and dozens of invisible, mind-control ray hits. Girls are beautiful, girls are graceful, girls are powerful, girls really are Greek goddesses.
I hear noises downstairs. Got to change quickly, hide the clothes, and go down for dinner before someone comes up looking for me. I hear my father and mother talking.
“Yes, Dear. Right away.”
