A Boy's Transformation - II

Will be traveling over the next few days.

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Calming from the dread, concern subsiding, Lu asserts herself. Mrs. Jensen listens, happy to place herself in the hands of the disarming woman of confidence and authority.

“There are some basic things I will need, Mrs. Jensen. Probably the most cumbersome is my own room with bath where I will stay with Jensen.”

“I can do that. I’ll move into the upstairs study and you may have my bedroom.”

“Good. He must first be displaced from his things. I am sure at his age there is the collection of boy’s stuff... the things that amuse... probably some giving rise to naughtiness.”

Mrs. Jensen nods and again arises to step to the drawer.

“I found this under the mattress the last time I changed his sheets.”

From under the tray of utensils comes a thin glossy magazine. Lu notes the wicked photo on the cover, the well bound nearly naked girl preempting the need to read the title, ‘Girls in Distress’.

“Oh yes, he is of that age. It is good that you responded to my ad.”

“You’ll not want to look inside the cover. It’s shocking. I know boys enter a phase of sexual curiosity but to satisfy it with this! He’s becoming his father.”

“Oh Ms. Jensen, Randy’s curiosity will be satisfied... in time. And we will need to keep his room locked until all is disposed of and the room converted.”

Ms. Jensen tucks the magazine back into the drawer, appearing to be repulsed in touching it.

“Disposed?”

“Everything must go. It will otherwise remind him of being a boy. So it is best.”

Mrs. Jensen nods, not to miss the raucous noise of violent computer games.

“You will need to inform the school authorities of Randy’s withdrawal, Ms. Jensen. Home schooling is becoming prevalent and there will be few questions. I will need to talk to your daughters. And do not be of concern, I have found siblings, particularly the girls, to be quite understanding of my efforts. How old?”

“Evelyn is 15. Joan will be turning 18 in a couple of months.”

“Oh, that is perfect. Girls who have attained puberty have much understanding of the planned transition.”

Ms. Jensen returns to sit at the table.

“And you will need to be tolerant of an occasional male visitor, Ms Jensen. I am not overly active... sexually. But the occasional visitor helps refresh. I will be astute... and somewhat discreet. It will come after Randy is... well... at a time when a visitor can help with the process.

Ms Jensen, nods, guessing at Lu’s age, early thirties, the need remains, not having experienced her disheartening disappointments.

“When can you begin?”

“In two days. I have very few things to bring. And when I arrive, Randy must be separated from access to his clothing. So I suggest a sturdy lock be placed on his door. If possible make it large... symbolically daunting. I will need complete governance, Ms. Jensen. I am strict but you will benefit from the results. Soon you will no longer be changing sheets... and neither will Evelyn and Joan."

The sly smile brings more comfort.

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“Hey mom, what the fuck’s going on?”

The voice is young... the timber ranging between soprano and alto... but the words are crass and delivered with provocation.

“Randy, do not use that language with me. And do not use that language at all!”

“‘There’s a steel bar across the door to my room.”

“Yes, there is. We’re going to have some changes. I have decided you need a governess.”

“What the hell is that?”

Ms. Jensen just stands looking at her future delinquent son, moving her arms to stand akimbo. In a way relieved that the rising belligerence will soon be the problem of another.

“I have engaged someone to take care of you. She will be in charge and will be schooling you as well.”

“Bullshit.”

“We’ll see about the bovine excrement, Randy. Ms. Lu is due here shortly.”

“Great. I will be sure to welcome the bitch. Meanwhile, let me in my room. Want to play some Grand Theft Auto.”

“No more Randy,” Ms. Jensen waving the odd shaped key of a Medco lock.

With that, the doorbell rings, the verbal encounter ends.

“Your new governess, Randy. Do be a good boy and answer the door.”

“She won’t make it. She’ll quit.”

“We’ll see. Go greet your governess.”

With no where to go, steel bar and Medco lock separating Randy from his world of boy stuff, he marches with authority to the door. Being the only male in the household, having achieved some degree of masculinity, there is cockiness.

‘A governess’, his mind cynically mulling.

But then he opens the door. Ms. Lu stands before him at nearly six foot, towering over the prepubescent Randy. Yet as imposing as is her height, a hand the size of a ham hoc reaches forth. Before Randy can utter a word, stunned with the woman’s presentment, the wrist rests on his left shoulder and fingers work to toy with his ear as she speaks.

“Why you must be little, Randy,” Lu exclaims with seemingly genuine enthusiasm.

The gesture appears friendly, but when thumb and forefinger find the earlobe, such lock in place with authority.

“Ow.”

“Goodness, am I hurting you?” the question ostensibly ingenuous as she slowly increases the pressure. “I am your governess, Miss Lu.”

“Let go, bitch!”

“My goodness. Such a greeting. Well Randy, you’ll need to get to know me. For I am going to know you very, very well. Every inch of you. Now pick up my bag like a good boy.”

The voice is smoothly calm, but firm. The clenching hand lowers, the head must follow and Randy finds himself stooping to pick up the bag.

“The things in there are for you, Randy. You’ll soon learn Miss Lu is very direct. Very business like. And expects obedience.”

Miss Lu steps into the house where a smiling Ms. Jensen stands in wait, the scene of immediate capitulation quite satisfying. Doubts concerning the tendering of her son’s tutelage rapidly dissipate.

“Up the steps, your room is at the end of the hall,” Ms. Jensen advises as she hands over the Medco key. “You’ll not have trouble finding Randy’s old room, should you need anything.”

“Not now. At some point we will return there and Brandy will be permitted to reminisce. But for now all he needs is in that bag. Come Brandy.”

Led by his ear, Randy has no choice but to follow. Growing up with less imposing women, he is amazed at the demonstration of relative power.

“Did you say Brandy?” Ms. Jensen inquires with a snort of laughter.

“Oh yes. Pardon my slip. A little premature. You’ll hear some noises while I give Brandy... er... Randy his bath. But not to worry, all will be fine.”