Twin Set

"If I may intervene," Amy said, "we have proven that we can make you look 100% like a girl. But there's a big difference between looking like a girl and acting like a girl, as your recent display just proved. We need some time with you as a girl to help you with your behavior."

"My behavior? You make me sound like an inmate!"

"Let us just say you're on probation. With a little help from us, nobody will ever be able to tell that you're really you. But if you don't go into this with the proper frame of mind, starting right now, you'll probably get outed. Think what that would do to your reputation! And Carrie's."

I knew I was whipped. "Okay, okay, I'll stay as a girl until tomorrow. But you guys are gonna owe me big time." I was thinking back to what Amy had said...

"Well, now that that's settled, let's find you something in the way of a swimsuit," Carrie said. "I think we'll all agree that after your rather shocking display in my tennis skirt, a swimsuit with a little skirt to hide your package is essential."

"Whatever," I sighed.

She hobbled over to her dresser and started to rummage through her drawers, eventually coming up with an aqua and black two-piece number that she called a skirtini. After I took off my tennis outfit, I retreated to the bathroom to figure out how to put it on. It wasn't too hard: the top pulled on like my tennis top, and the little skirt had built-in panties that held me pretty snug. I was wondering what to use for breasts when I heard a little tap on the door, and Amy solved my problem. What else: tennis balls!

One hour later, the three of us were laying out in lounge chairs at poolside in the back yard, Amy wearing one of Carrie's bikinis. God, she was hot! Several times I thought I could feel myself stiffening beneath my little skirt, but my panties were so confining that they kept me in line. Meanwhile Carrie was sitting next to me, still in her jogging outfit, polishing my nails. She'd selected a shade of coral for my fingers, and after filing my nails into little ovals, she patiently applied a coat of quick dry polish to each one. "Is there anything else you haven't done to me yet?" I asked morosely.

"I think we're done for now," Carrie said, admiring her handiwork. "Remember, it's my reputation you've got to uphold tomorrow, but I think we're off to a good start." She carefully slid off her chair and hopped on her good leg to the Jacuzzi, where she sat by the side and slowly lowered her swollen ankle into the bubbling water. "Ouch, ouch, ouch!" she moaned as she moved it close to one of the jets. "God, that feels good though."

"I think your swelling is starting to go down," I said encouragingly.

"Me too. Maybe after a good night's sleep I'll be back on my feet, and you won't have to play for me?"

"Let's hope so. Who are you supposed to play tomorrow?"

"Valarie Trueting."

"Her? She's a beast!"

"She is a big girl," Carrie agreed. "I lost to her last time we played."

"Great, just great! I'm gonna have to play tennis in a dress, and lose to a girl!"

"You can beat her. She's very one-dimensional. She just stands there on the baseline and slugs it out."

"Well, you can't say that you're one-dimensional," Amy teased me.

"Not anymore," I had to agree.

"So what are our plans for tonight?" Amy asked me.

"Uh, gee, I dunno. Why don't you stay here and we'll order a pizza?"

"I was thinking that maybe you and I could go out."

My heart jumped. "That sounds great," I said, flourishing my painted nails, "but don't you think I'd look a little strange?"

"Not if you put on a pretty dress," she smiled.

"Guess I'd better do her toes too," Carrie chimed in.

* * *

Looking back, it seems hard to believe that I let the girls manipulate me so easily. I suppose it was a combination of my brotherly love for Carrie, and my total infatuation with Amy, who seemed to dig what was happening to me. If this was the price for getting close to her, I didn't mind paying it, and I have to admit that the more I got into what they were doing to me, the more I started to enjoy it.

Which explains how I let them play with me as a dress-up doll all afternoon, trying on outfit after outfit. It was such a turn-on, standing there in a bra and panties, as they experimented with different looks on me. At the end of the day, it was pretty obvious that anything that looked good on Carrie looked good on me, with the help of some strategic padding, and after much deliberation the girls decided that I should wear a sundress to dinner with Amy. It was so light and lovely, after Amy zipped me up in the back I loved the way it swished and swirled around my bare legs.

It was weird seeing my pink toenails peeking out from the tips of my white strappy heels. It took me a bit of practice before I was able to walk around in them, and the girls coached me on how to sit down and cross my legs in my dress. They also jazzed up my makeup, adding some eyeshadow and a bit of blush, and put a pretty necklace and some earrings on me.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" I asked Carrie half-heartedly when I was finally ready to venture outdoors.

"Nah, you girls go and have a good time, I'm gonna rest up and go to bed early. I don't think I'd be much fun hobbling along with a cane."

"Better let me borrow your driver's license then," I said after Carrie filled up one of her purses with female junk for me: lip gloss, hairbrush, stuff like that.

"Okay, but don't have a crash!"

Amy hopped into the passenger seat of our car, and our first stop was to her house so she could change too. I was a nervous wreck by the time we pulled into her driveway. "Why don't you come in and chat with my mom while I get dressed?" she said. "It will be good practice for you before tomorrow."

"I don't think so," I said. "I'm afraid she'll see right through me."

"Nah, you look so totally like Carrie that she'll never guess. C'mon, let's go," she urged me. "It'll seem really strange if you don't come in."

Reluctantly, I grabbed my purse and followed her up the front walk, unnerved by the clickety clacking of my heels on the flagstones. Amy opened the front door, and after a quick hello to her mom and one of her brothers I followed her upstairs to her room. I hesitated outside the door until she whispered, "You can come in, Carrie. You are a girl, after all." And I felt like a girl as I sat on the corner of her bed while she tugged off her romper and changed into a cute skirt and top, freshened up her makeup and added a bit of bling. "Ready to prowl?" she asked as she stepped into some jeweled sandals.

"Uh, no. We have that problem again," I said sheepishly. While I'd watched her getting dressed, my penis began to grow again, and I was sure it would be visible even under the folds of my dress.

She sat down next to me and took my hands in hers. "My poor baby," she said. "Let's see how serious the problem is." Amy lifted up my dress and her eyes widened in mock surprise as she surveyed the bulge in my panties. "Yes, I see what you mean. And I can't very well expect you to leave my bedroom in that condition, can I?"

"No! What would your mother think?"

"She'd be shocked." Amy took the waistband of my panties in her hands and started to pull them down. "Stand up," she said, and after I did, she got down on her knees and started to kiss my penis, tentatively at first, and then she took me into her mouth and began to tease me with her tongue, first the tip, and then higher and higher, until I was totally engulfed. I whimpered with delight as she nibbled and sucked on me, until I couldn't hold out any longer. I came with a rush, filling her mouth with pulses of semen, which she swallowed down eagerly until I had nothing left to give. "Wow, that's the first time I've ever done that," she confided. "Pretty cool, huh?"

I was speechless.

* * *

After the blowjob in her bedroom, the rest of my date with Amy was an anticlimax. I felt utterly drained and satisfied as we waltzed down the stairs, said a few words to her family, and drove to a nearby burger joint. Sitting there across from her in a quiet booth, we chatted away like two girlfriends, with the emphasis on little things I should concentrate on in my quest to perfect my impersonation of Carrie. She especially helped me with my voice, how I should raise my pitch at the end of a sentence and maintain eye contact when I spoke. Above all, she told me to smile!

My training was put to the test when we ran into a group of girls and guys from our high school in the lobby on the way out after dinner. Amy did most of the talking, but I chirped in and sounded enough like a girl to fool them all. I took the long way back to Amy's house, and pulled over at a lovers' hideaway where we kissed and necked for a while. At one point Amy reached under my dress to see if I was aroused again, which produced the desired result, and while I played with her breasts and stroked her too, she gave me a sweet, delightful hand job that filled my panties with what was left of my supply. "I love you," I told her, and when she smiled and told me that she loved me too, I was the happiest girl in the world. Would she love me as much when I went back to being a boy?

* * *

Carrie had to roust me out of bed the next morning to get me dressed for my match. She was asleep when I'd gotten home, and rather than wake her up to borrow one of her nightgowns, I slept in the nude. "How's your foot?" I asked her before I headed for the shower.

"Terrible. It hurts worse than yesterday, but I'm sure it isn't broken. It's all up to you today, sister. Please wash and condition your hair, and I'll help you style it, okay? Oh, and make sure to give your baby face a close shave."

I did as I was told, and when I emerged from the bathroom, Carrie was waiting for me with a blow dryer and a hair brush. I sat down in front of her vanity while she patiently dried and fluffed my hair until it looked just like hers. She even added a touch of hairspray to keep in in place. "You'll be running around today, so a little body will help," she explained. Then she went to work with her moisturizer and makeup, resulting in the same look she achieved the day before.

When she was satisfied, she had me put on the same teddy I'd worn yesterday. "What is this thing anyway?" I asked her.

"Hmmm, showing interest in your lingerie, are you? This happens to be a body briefer that we wear for sports sometimes. Here, let me flip the straps." I watched in the mirror as she unfastened each of the shoulder straps and refastened them after she crossed them behind my neck. Before I could ask, she said, "Your dress is different from the top you wore yesterday. You'll see." She fished a lavender pair of boyshorts out of her dresser drawer, and after I stepped into them, she stuffed my teddy with breastforms again.

Then she limped over to her closet and returned with a short white tennis dress with crisscross straps. I held up my arms and she helped me lower it over my head, pulling it down and smoothing it over my trembling body. It was made of the flimsiest fabric I'd ever seen, let alone worn, and over an underslip there was a gossamer-like layer of sheer nothing. It was surprisingly comfortable to wear, and after I put on some sox and her tennis shoes she had me stand at attention while she inspected me from head to toe.

"You look just like me," she smiled. "How do you feel?" she asked as she finished me off with a little necklace, earrings and a cubic zirconium tennis bracelet.

"How do I feel about wearing a dress to play tennis against an Amazon in front of hundreds of people? Terrified," I told her.

"Good, your adrenaline will be pumping. Let's have something to eat before you drive to the club." I really wasn't hungry - my stomach was churning - but I managed to nibble on a chocolate chip muffin as Carrie gave me some pointers. "She's got a powerful serve, which she gets in about half the time. Her second serve is very safe, so you should be able to cheat on her and get in close. I don't think she puts any spin on the ball. And her backhand is weak. But her forehand is brutal."

I processed all this as she filled up a tennis bag with balls, a towel, some water and talc. "You can use this instead of a purse," she said as she put a wallet - with her driver's license again - my cellphone, car keys and miscellaneous female junk in one of the side pockets. The racquet, a Maria Sharapova model in hot pink, slid into another pocket. "Are you ready? Sure you wanna do this?" she asked me.

"Of course I don't want to do this! I'm terrified," I told her honestly. "But I love you, sis, and I told you I'd do it. Just don't get mad at me if I get beat."

"You'll win," she assured me. "You're a guy, remember?"

* * *

The parking lot was already filling up when I pulled into the club. I had to stop myself before I walked into the men's locker room, and after relieving myself (sitting down) in the ladies locker room and taking a last look at myself in the mirror, I walked slowly towards center court, where Valarie was already waiting. Standing there in an ill-fitting tennis dress that looked like a feedbag on her, she towered over me as I approached her. "Hi Val," I said cheerily.

"Hey," she grunted, before she turned away and walked over to the baseline to warm up. I rubbed some talc on the handle of Carrie's racquet, popped open a new can of balls, and took my place behind the other baseline. For the next ten minutes, we swatted balls back and forth over the net, trying to get a feel for each other. I could tell that she was holding back, and I didn't try anything fancy as I tried to find my rhythm.

Three things preoccupied me: One, where was the coach from State? I scanned the grandstand, which was rapidly filling up, and finally I spotted her, sitting dead center in the top row. Two: how am I going to play a serious game of tennis in this frou-frou dress? It felt like I was running around in lingerie and sneakers! And three, without any pockets, what do I do with the extra tennis ball? Finally it dawned on me: stuff it in your panties! Which was a little awkward, and it took me a while to figure out how to do it gracefully.

At last it was time to play. Valarie served first, and I set myself a few inches behind the baseline and waited to see what she was made of. It didn't take me long to find out: ZOOM! Her first serve was an unreachable ace! So was her second serve! And her third! Finally, at 40-love, she missed her first serve, and I moved in cautiously, a few feet in front of the baseline. Sure enough, she hit a creampuff, but I was so anxious that I slammed it right into the net! Game one lost!

We switched sides, and it was my turn to serve. I bounced the ball at my feet as I tried to control my nerves. Instead, all I could see was my shadow, a girl's shadow, her whispy dress fluttering in the breeze. How did I let myself get talked into this farce? I promptly double-faulted! At love-15, after I dunked my first serve into the net, I took a lot off my second serve, which Val hammered back, an unhittable return. I took some more off my first serve, got one in, and Val totally destroyed it. Love-40! I got a little too cute with my next serve, missed badly, and once again had to serve up a softball which Val absolutely crushed. Game two lost!

I could hear the crowd stirring, and I stole a glance up towards the coach from State. She was talking on her cellphone, already losing interest in the match. Maybe she'd try to recruit Val? Things went from bad to worse, as I lost the third game without winning a point again. We switched sides, I served horribly, Val continued to totally dominate me, and before I knew it I was trailing 5-0, and trying desperately to win a service game to avoid a total skunk out. I did manage to win a few points on serve, largely because Val got a little careless, but she settled down and made short work of me, and the first set was over. I sat down to take a sip of water and tried to compose myself, in a total daze. I was playing tennis against a girl, wearing a dress, and getting absolutely destroyed.

I heard a little buzz in my racquet bag and ignored it at first. Finally, after it persisted, I opened the side pocket and took out my phone. There was a text from Carrie, two words: "bounce hit"

I closed my eyes, and felt the tension drain away. Bounce Hit was the mantra which Carrie and I had grown up on, the secret sauce of The Inner Game of Tennis: empty your mind, watch the ball hit the court, say "bounce" to yourself, and say "hit" when you hit it. Simple as that! All of a sudden, the fact that I was playing a girl, wearing a dress, in front of hundreds of people including the coach from State, meant absolutely nothing. The only thing that mattered was watching the ball and hitting it.

Val served to open the second set, and she crushed another one, which I promptly slammed back over the net, watching her swing wildly as it landed at her feet. She seemed a little rattled, and missed her first serve at love-15. I moved forward a bit and waited for her creampuff, which I totally destroyed. "Bounce hit!" She double-faulted twice, we switched sides, and it was my serve. For the first time, I could hear a few cheers from the crowd. "Go Carrie! You can do it, girl!"

Serving can be the most difficult part of the game of tennis, but it's deceptively simple: hit the ball so your opponent can't put it away. I took some steam off my first serve, went for the corner, and Val tapped it back to the center of the court. Bounce hit: I squared off and crushed the ball back to her feet, which she flailed at wildly and missed. Time to think now: her backhand was weak, so I moved over towards the corner and hit a serve which she couldn't run around on. Her backhand landed harmlessly in the net. 30-love. Another hard serve to the corner, which she muffed this time, and another wicked serve to her backhand, which she totally missed. 2-0 in the second set!

Things went downhill for Val fast after that. I felt totally liberated and free as I toyed with her serves and ran her all over the court. It became obvious that she wasn't in very good shape, and soon she was panting and puffing as the roof fell in. She lost the second set without winning a game, and the massacre continued as we started the decisive set. I started to put some spin on the ball, hitting American twist serves which she couldn't get close to, and slicing my backhands so severely that several of them actually bounced backwards into the net, totally bamboozling her. When the end was near, I took pity on her and just slammed winners into the corners, putting her away without losing another game. The final score: 0-6, 6-0, 6-0. Val was stunned and exhausted when it was over, and the roar from the crowd was the greatest sound I'd ever heard.

I was gathering up my things, about to send a text to Carrie, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw the coach from State with a big smile on her face. "That was quite a performance, young lady," she said. "I don't think I've ever seen a comeback like that."

"Thanks," I said. "It took me a little while to find my groove."

"Well, you certainly found it! Let me give you my card," she said, handing one to me. "I'm the coach at State, and we're very interested in talking to you about a full athletic scholarship. I'm staying at the Hyatt tonight, and if possible I'd like to meet your parents before I leave."

"My parents?" I gulped.

"Yes, if one or both of them could possibly be available, I'm free for breakfast tomorrow morning. Please ask them to call me if they can meet me at my hotel at 9:00."

"Okay," I said numbly.

"Thanks, I truly hope one of them can make it. I know it's short notice, but please let them know how important it is."