**** Note: I am the author of the following titles that fall under the major heading of 'Visiting Mother' subtitled section 'Mother's Ballet Class choice 5'. Four-years-old & a girl, Home, Paul's Punishment, Paul Is No More, Pleading for Mercy, and Paula... I wrote these parts as one continuous section however included them individually. I have now decided for the sake of saving time, I have re-added everything under one subsection which I am calling 'Paul's Life As Paula Begins'. Therefore if you wish you may add to this section or add to any one of the individual sections listed above.****
Suddenly, everything started to appear all fuzzy; however, as things became clearer, Paul felt a slight tingle engulf his entire body.
"What's happening?" Paul grumbled to himself. 'Oh well,' he thought reaching for his book bag and one of his assigned English books, but as he did, the tingling became much stronger; so strong that it caused him to collapse to the floor.
"What are you doing back there, young lady?" asked his mother angrily. Paul froze. "Well, young lady? Do you think that because you're my daughter, you can interrupt my class?"
"Daughter...?" questioned Paul, his eyes looking up into his mother's angry face. "I'm not your dau..." but as he said this, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind his mother. "...Daughter."
His once short brown hair was now shoulder length and pulled back into a ponytail; while the scruffy brown mustache he'd been growing was now gone and was replaced by an ultra smooth, young girl's face. However, that wasn't all that scared him, he'd gone from standing just shy of six-foot to his height being cut in half. His clothes had also transformed into a delicate looking dress that made him look even more like a precious little girl.
"I warned you last time, you're not to interrupt my class again, or you'll suffer the consequences," snapped his mother, reaching into the box and pulling out one of the spare pink leotards and pinkish-white tights. In Paul's opinion, it was the most feminine looking outfit he'd ever seen. "Let's go," she said grabbing hold of his hand and started dragging him toward the ladies' room, all the time his feet scraping against the floor.
"But mom," he started to complain, unaware of how childish's his voice had become, his mother reaching down to unzip the back of the dress he was wearing. "I'm your son Paul. Don't you remember?"
"Paula, I've told you about telling lies. Now stop fighting me," barked his mother when she finally managed to finish unzipping the dress. "Now put these on," she ordered him as she tossed him the pair of tights.
For a minute, Paul considered arguing with his mother and trying to make her remember that he was her son, but the look on her face told him otherwise. A moment after he'd slipped the tights slowly up his smooth legs, shuttering at the feeling of them, she had him dressed in the pink leotard and standing in the front row of her ballet class.
On the ride home from ballet class, Paul was expecting he'd get the chance to explain what had happened. However, his stomach was growling so much that he couldn't think about anything but food.
'Oh good McDonalds,' thought Paul as his mother pulled into the drive-thru. 'A Big Mac value meal with a chocolate shake would do just the trick.'
"What would you like this evening?" asked the cashier and before Paul could say a single word, his mother began to answer.
"Yes, I would like a Cheeseburger Happy Meal for a girl with a fruit punch to drink for that. Also, a number six with lite lettuce."
"And what to drink with that, ma'am."
"Sprite."
"Would that be all?"
"Yes, please," said Paul's mother.
"Your total is ten-fifty. Please, drive around."
Arriving home, Paul and his mother sat down, ate their dinner in silence and to Paul's surprise the happy meal his mother'd ordered for him filled him up.
"Time for bed, Paula," said his mother an hour late. Hearing this, Paul instantly started to complain that it was still early and that he was older than he looked. That he was a fifteen-year-old boy, not some little girl his mother claimed he was. "Enough of these lies, young lady. I said it's time for you to go to bed, so go upstairs and start preparing for your bath. I'll be up in a minute to help you take your dress off."
Paul didn't argue any further; instead, he turned and ran back to his room to do what his mother had told him to do. Of course, Paul didn't feel at all awkward about his mother drawing his bath, since she'd done it when he was younger.
His bedroom door slowly creaked open as Paul pushed against it. 'What the...?' he thought seeing the room painted in a soft, pastel pink color. The carpet was a perfect shade of white and pink as the curtains. Each of the walls covered with toy dolls and other toys made for young girls.
"Here I come, Paula. You better be ready for me when I get there." Paul shook his head and decided to think about what happened later rather than suffer the wrath of his mother again. Hastily, he started to pull at his black Mary-Jane shoe straps and his ponytail holder.
Paul's mother soon joined him in his now ultra feminine, girl's room and announced his bath water was almost ready for her sweet little girl. Paul grimaced, but didn't fight or argue as his mother unzipped the back of the dress allowing him to be free of the delicate prison of silk he'd been wearing since his mother's ballet class.
'The box in the dance studio,' thought Paul trying to piece together what had caused him to turn into a little girl. 'That's right, I accidentally dropped the medallion in the box of spare leotards, and - and...' However, as Paul slipped into the warm bath water, his concentration seemed to slip too.
Later that evening, as Paul lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, he again attempted to remember what had happened to transform him into this freak of nature. Suddenly, he heard a creak at his bedroom door and closed his eyes tight, but soon after the sound past by his room and he felt safe enough to re-open his eyes and continue to think; yet, as he lay there, he began to think of how nice it'd been to close them in the first place. Soon Paul was fast asleep.
The next day, Paul and his mother went back to the dance studio for his mother's advanced class. In Paul's opinion this gave him the greatest opportunity he had to find the medallion and return at least half way back to normal. Although, as he and his mother walked inside, he was cornered by one of the girl's in his mother's beginners class, a nine-year-old by the name of Chan Misho, and before he knew what to think, she grabbed hold of his arm and started to drag him toward an empty room, while assuring his mother that she only wanted to help catch little Paula up on some of the basic steps that she didn't know yet for class.
"What is going on here, Paul?" she asked with little resolve in her voice.
"Paul...? You mean you actually know who I am?" he said somewhat relieved to hear that he wasn't going crazy.
"I know who you truly are, but what I don't know is why you are like this. I mean, that medallion wasn't meant for you. It was meant for someone else to pick up."
"You know about the medallion and what it did to me...? Then why didn't you say something yesterday when it first started?" he began to shout angrily.
"Quiet."
"QUIET yourself, Chan! You let this happen to me."
"I'm, I'm sorry alright, but there isn't anything I can do now. My mother gave that necklace to me yesterday to leave for my cousin. She said that it would teach him a lesson he soon wouldn't forget."
"What was the lesson?" asked Paul regretting that he'd yelled at her and almost wishing he'd not hear what he thought she was about to say.
"It was meant to turn him into a four-year-old girl then disappear before he could change back. He'd be stuck that way the rest of his life, at least..." Chan began to fidget with her hair as her voice softened into barely a whisper.
"At least... What?" prodded Paul trying to receive the rest of the information from her.
"At least until he got married and had a kid, a sweet adorable baby girl. Then soon after that happened, he'd become - would have another person's soul transported into it and he'd..." Again, Chan's voice died down and Paul had to lean in to even hear what she was saying. "...He'd become..."
"Become what, Chan?" asked Paul, a knot tightening in his stomach.
"...That baby girl and the cycle would start all over again. He'd be trapped as a girl and everything around him would conform to that new identity. I mean, no one would remember him ever being a boy or even being a man and eventually after three days he himself won't remember ever being a boy again either."
Paul staggered back before finally speaking in a gasp. "Please, Chan, tell me there is a way of reversing this, this screw up."
Quietly, Chan shook her head. "I'm sorry but Paul can never return. The medallion which has done this is no more. Once it's been used, it destroys itself until no trace remains."
"So I'm trapped like this?" Paul shouted angrily.
"Yes, but that isn't the saddest thing about it. Tomorrow afternoon, you won't ever remember being a boy. You won't even remember we had this conversation. You'll be sweet little Paula Anne Miller, a four-year-old girl who just started taking beginner classes at her mother's dance studio; when she hasn't even had a single day in primary school."
Paul collapsed to the floor crying hysterically.
"What is up with all the noise over here? I'm trying to teach a class next door," shouted one of the assistant instructors.
Thinking quickly, Chan hurriedly explained the situation before the instructor could get more than a few feet in the door.
"I see," she said calmly. "This is Alice's daughter. She's been saying that she'd bring her in for a visit again. So you want to take classes like all the big kids, eh, Paula?" asked the instructor kneeling down and rubbing his back. "Wait here and I'll go get her mother."
Once alone again, Paul looked up at Chan through crimson, blood shot eyes and sniffled.
"Why did you tell her that?" asked Paul.
"Like I said before, no one is ever going to believe that you were once a boy, or fifteen to say the least."
"Ms. Chan!" bellowed Paul's mother from the doorway. "I thought you said that you'd look after my little Paula. So why is she crying her eyes out?"
"I'm sorry Mrs. Miller, but I told Paula that I couldn't show her any thing without first wearing the proper equipment and when I suggested we go get changed, she fell to the floor crying and pouting that she didn't want to wear that stuff. That she just wanted to dance as she is."
Paul's mother looked back at Paul and hugged him like he'd never been hugged before. Paul took a deep breath, the smell of her perfume making him dizzy. Then before letting him go, she kissed his cheek and started to speak with a reassuring smile across her face.
"You know, sweetie, that to do ballet, you can't be wearing a dress. You need to go with Chan here and get changed into the proper gear."
After two hours, Paul was beginning to improve his basic foot work. However, as his mother entered the room to help him get changed back into the dress he'd been wearing, the memory of what Chan had said to him about forgetting he was born male stirred in the back of his mind. Again, he began to whimper.
"Don't cry, sweetie, we'll be back tomorrow and you can do this again," said his mother trying to sooth him without having the slightest idea as to why he was crying.
That night, things went pretty much the same as the previous evening. Paul and his mother ate in silence and an hour later, he was ushered upstairs for his bath and bed. However, unlike the previous evening, Paul found a pink nightie with a picture of a care-bear waiting for him on his bed instead of a two piece sleeping set. In addition to this, there was a Pull-Ups Night Time Training Pants waiting for him to slide over his naked legs and up to his now slender waste.
"Do I have to wear these, mom?" asked Paul grimacing as he saw her shake her head yes.
"I think its best since you wet yourself last night, Paula, but I'll make you a deal. Keep dry for the rest of the week and you'll be able to wear big girl pants back to bed again."
'That should be easy enough,' thought Paul nodding his head in agreement and lifting his arms for his mother to slide the nightie over his head.
"Alright into bed and I'll read you a story. Any suggestions?"
Paul thought for a minute, then decided on the book he'd been assigned in English class to read alone. "To Kill A Mockingbird," he said innocently enough, somewhat surprised that he'd asked for that, especially since he'd not really liked the book, he still thought it be best to be prepared for the test he had on it in two days time. His mother on the other hand just stared blankly into his eyes and then after what he said hit her, she began to laugh.
"I think that book's a bit too advanced for you, sweetie. How about this one instead?" she said pulling a thin Doctor Seuss book off the shelf. "The Cat in the Hat."
Paul was surprised as his mother sat down on the edge of the bed and began to read how easy the words she was saying seemed to become jumbled in his head. Then half way through the book, Alice looked over and saw that Paul was sound asleep. Quietly, she finished tucking him into the covers, kissed his forehead, and walked out of the room as she flicked on the night light before closing the door.
As Paul lay there asleep, he began to dream about what Chan had told him. He could see himself slowly transforming into the girl he was now and then before the transformation was entirely complete, he'd be stuck between Paul and Paula; and then just as he reached this stage, he'd begin to fall through a bottomless pit of people laughing at him and his mother saying, "You look more like a girl now, Paul; therefore I'm going to turn you into the sweetest little girl I've always wanted you to be. So you won't be needing any of those yucky boy things anymore." Hearing this, Paul screams as his bladder empties in his dream.
"What's the matter, Paula?" asked his mother as she comes rushing into his room.
"Bad dream," pouted Paul lying back down crying.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. Would you like anything to drink?" asked Alice sweeping some of Paul's hair from the front of his face. Paul nodded. "Alright, sweetie, I'll be right back with some milk."
Moments later, Paul's mother returned holding a cup half full with some milk, but as Paul readjusted himself in bed, he felt something strange around his waist. Paul froze in his spot with a worried work across his face.
"What's the matter, sweetie?" asked his mother seeing this, but before Paul could answer, his mother must have guessed what was wrong because all she did was sigh and hand him his drink. "I'll be right back, so finish your drink and don't move from that spot."
Nervously Paul nodded his head, having an idea of what she was about to do. Paul finished his milk just as his mother returned with a brand new pair of Pull-Up Training Pants and a box of baby-wipes. At first, Paul attempted to pull the blankets up over his head, but before he could his mother quickly pulled them down out of his reach. When that failed, Paul moved his hands over the bottom hem of his nightie. However, this failed too, as his mother easily rolled him on his side and gave him a fast hard tap on the butt.
"Now stop this," said his mother forcefully rolling him back over to his back.
The next morning when Paul woke up, he couldn't believe what had happened the previous evening. He felt so ashamed that he didn't even want to leave his bed, but his mother soon entered his room and started to pull the covers down off from him.
"Common, sleepy head, we have got a busy day ahead of us." Paul looked up at his mother with a deep loathing. "Well common," she repeated after Paul failed to move an inch.
Paul sighed as he rolled off his bed and walked over to the dresser to grab a fresh pair of panties for him to change into after his morning bath. However, upon opening up the draw he'd seen the panties in yesterday, his eyes narrowed and started to whimper. The draw was no longer filled with panties; instead it was filled with thirty or so girls' pull-ups.
'What is she trying to do? Turn me into a little girl forever,' thought Paul looking back at his mother who offered him no sign of comfort.
As the day progresses, Paul found himself sitting in the girls' locker room at his mother's dance studio embarrassed about having to change in front of everyone. He knew now that he shouldn't be embarrassed because he was just as much a girl as the rest of them, it was he was wearing a pair of training pants that would undoubtedly show beyond the pink dance leotard and show through the pinkish-white tights his mother had given him that morning.
"Hurry up in there girls," ordered his mother from out in the lesson room.
Finally after ten minutes, Paul was left all alone with the exception of Chan who'd just arrived due to her having to travel quite a distance into town for lessons.
"Good morning, Paula," she said seeing him sit there nervously. "What's the matter?"
"The matter?" he asked wearily. "I'm a man, whose been transformed into a four-year-old girl and now is being forced into wearing these damn training pants for babies, and who also has to take stupid ballet lessons."
Chan looked back at him confused, but after a moment just smiled.
"What a great imagination you have, Paula. I've got to remember to write that one down some day."
Paul studied her momentarily trying to determine if she was being honest about not knowing any of this or if she was trying to help his transition into being a girl. Nevertheless in the end however, he wasn't given much time since his mother soon joined them and seeing he'd not changed yet, asked Chan to help him and be out in the studio as soon as possible.
It would be another five minutes before either Chan or Paul entered the room, and as Paul feared, the Pull-Ups training pants showed clear through the tights. Instantly the other girls began to laugh at the sight of him wearing them.
"Quiet," ordered his mother in a fairly scary voice that brought immediate silence to the giggling girls. "Take your places."
Like robots everyone but Paul stood in a straight line and held onto the railing attached to the mirrored wall. Of course, even if Paul had stood next to the wall, the bar was too high for him to reach.
Suddenly, tingling began to spread through Paul's entire body and before he could realize that what Chan had told him was taking place, he fell to the floor dizzy. This time however instead of laughing the girls all gasped at once.
"Are you alright, sweetie?" asked his mother as he staggered back to his feet and looked down at his dancing body, his legs crossed tight.
"Mommy, I've got to go potty," he said innocently; however, by the time they reached the bathroom in the girls' locker room it was too late, the Pull-Ups training pants' thirst had been quenched and had started to leak.
"Oh, Paula," said his mother looking down at him. "I thought you said you were a big girl."
"I'm sorry, Mommy, I didn't mean to," he said embarrassed by his infantile act.
"You know what this means," she said with little enthusiasm taking hold of his hand again and walking him to her office. Once inside and the door was closed, she had him lay on his back after getting the leotard and tights off.