SubscribeStar Story: The Flower Boy, Chapters 1-5

Author’s Note: Commissioned by Nicegent42. Thank you for your pledge, and for all the ideas that made this story possible!

Chapter One

“What do you mean, you can’t make it?”

It was the day before Fiona Turner’s wedding. She was by no means a bridezilla, though a last minute snag was bound to make anyone a little frustrated.

Her younger sister, Sophie, stepped a little closer to try and hear more than the single side of the conversation the others in the living room were getting from Heather. “Who is it?” she asked.

“No, it’s fine!” Fiona said, “I bet she’ll be better by tomorrow. Just-” “ . . . We can make it work! Please, Jamie.” “ . . . That’s not fair!” After another brief back and forth, the bride-to-be groaned and threw her phone at the nearby sofa. She wasn’t so worked up that she was going to damage the device without thinking, though she did let out a loud groan before telling those present, “Mia is sick. Too sick to leave the house, apparently.”

“Shit,” Sophie muttered. She flushed and glanced towards their mother, “Sorry, Mom.”

The woman would normally chastise her daughters for such language. In this case, she was more focused on the problem at hand. “So, no flower girl,” she said, also not the type to beat around the bush.

Samuel–or Sam, as he preferred to go by–was lounging in the armchair on the other side of the room. He was the only real Turner in the room, and only half paying attention to the unexpected complication that the other three had just been hit with. Eighteen years old and the only male in the family now that his father wasn’t in the picture, he had very little to contribute when it came to a traditional wedding. For the same reason Fiona wanted a flower girl and a church sanctuary, the groomsmen were all relatives and friends of the groom, and the bridesmaids were all related to the bride in a similar manner. Sam would be serving as an usher, which basically meant, ‘You’re important, but there’s no other role we can give you.’

Not that he wanted to be in the wedding party. Sam was embarrassingly small for a boy his age; standing at barely 5’3”, he was in one of the lowest height percentiles possible. He would look absolutely ridiculous if he lined up with the other groomsmen.

His older step-sister, Fiona, also wanted an adult-only wedding. It was a common enough stipulation that some engaged couples made, to avoid disruptions during the ceremony and potential chaos at the reception. The only exception was her first cousin, Mia. While most flower girls were younger than the tween who had been asked to do the job, Fiona had decided to split the difference by having a slightly more mature girl take on the role. Then, after the ceremony, someone could drive Mia home; the girl was mature enough to be left without a babysitter for a few hours.

The downside to this plan was currently presenting itself. Every other guest was 18+, and it was the day of the rehearsal dinner. Most of their guests would already be on the road or on a plane to the destination wedding; it was way too late to find someone with a daughter who could adjust their travel plans at the last second.

Fiona started lamenting about how the wedding was ruined, how the flower girl and the petals were such an important part of her vision for the ceremony, and throwing out ideas like posting an ad online for a girl who was willing to step in the following evening. Maybe there would be some mother out there who needed the cash, though her daughter would also need to be able to fit into the dress, go to the stylist with everyone in the afternoon, etc. It was a pretty big ask for a total stranger, plus there were no guarantees some random girl would do a good job.

“What about Sammie?” Sophie smirked, “He’s about the size of a twelve year old.”

His seventeen year old sister still held a grudge after all this time. Around two years ago, Sam ‘tripped her’ and she ended up with a small scar on her chin. Nothing that a little make-up couldn’t cover up, but it was still a blemish in a more prominent spot. Fifteen at the time, Sophie was furious. Even though it was her fault for texting while walking around the house, which is what caused her to stumble over Sam’s feet while he was just chilling on the sofa. No matter how he tried to explain what actually happened, she wasn’t having it.

Between that, and the fact that her high school years turned her into a little bit of a mean girl, Sophie never stopped poking fun at Sam’s height. After all, he had basically stopped growing when he was thirteen, while Sophie ended up taller than him by the end of middle school. They were step-siblings, so it wasn’t as if they were blessed/screwed by the same genes, but still. As the only male in the family, it was still embarrassing to occasionally be mistaken as a younger brother.

What they all did have in common was their hair color. To some degree. Sam was more of a dirty blonde; Fiona and Sophie had lighter blonde hair. It was close enough that they could still be seen as biological siblings to those that didn’t know the family, when their parents only got married five years ago.

The problem with Sophie’s teasing was that she knew just how to get under his skin without coming across as rude or malicious. More than once, he had ‘overreacted’ in the eyes of their mother, since Sophie always backed off and played innocent. It helped that she was one year younger, so of course her brother was picking on her instead of the other way around.

In this case, Sam kept his attention on his laptop, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. It was the day before Fiona’s wedding, and he knew that both Fiona and his step-mom, Michelle, were stressed to the point where saying the wrong thing could turn him into a lightning rod when they were actually just dealing with the whole Jamie/Mia thing.

To his surprise, Sophie’s little joke, that she would surely claim was just to lighten the mood if called out on it, didn’t just die amidst the current discussion. “Actually . . . ” Michelle trailed off, thinking about it for a second before offering the idea as a potential solution, “Would it be that crazy to have a flower boy? Sam is on the shorter side. We could find a pink tie for him, or something?” It wasn’t a fully formed suggestion; she was just tossing out anything that might work.

Sam didn’t appreciate the idea. He was a cliché teenage guy in the sense that he wasn’t a fan of pinks or purples. The good news was, he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t into the alternative option. “It’s not the same,” Fiona said. As a ring bearer, maybe, though they had already pushed the flower girl age with Mia. It would be ridiculous to have her step-brother walking down the aisle and throwing petals for her, regardless of his tie color.

Meanwhile, Sophie was still wondering if she could have a little fun at Sam’s expense. It wasn’t as if anyone else was coming up with anything useful, and the flower boy idea *had* been thrown out there thanks to the way she drew attention to his size. “Honestly, I think Mia’s dress would fit him,” she said, trying her very best to sound curious rather than amused at the thought, “Slap on some make-up, fix up his hair? I bet Sammie would be a cute girl!”

“It’s Sam,” he corrected her, not that it was worth the effort. Sophie had been using the immature nickname more and more frequently over the years, even though no one in his family had ever called him that before she picked up the habit. “And I’m not a girl, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Sophie jumped on that response by clarifying, “That’s not what I said. I mean you could be a cute girl. You’re the one who never wants a haircut, right? I bet we could style it like you’re Mia. What do you think, Fiona?”

Again, Fiona didn’t quite latch onto the new idea brought up, since it was a little bit out there. Getting her brother to cross-dress to fill the role? Unlike Sophie, she wasn’t thinking maliciously, and the age factor is what made it difficult for the concept to make sense for her. Sam had just graduated high school; no one would believe that he was that young.

When no one else verbally rejected the idea, Sophie stood up and said, “Come on, it can’t hurt to try. Trust me, we do stuff like this all the time for theatre productions. Why don’t I give Sammie a make-over, and you two keep discussing other ideas. Divide and conquer?” She wasn’t wrong; it was the most efficient use of time.

“Hmm.” Michelle looked Sam over, then considered the idea just like she had done with her own a minute ago. “Okay, sure. Just to see.” Worst case scenario, it would look ridiculous and Fiona would de-stress a little bit from the fun.

Of course, not everyone in the room was on board just like that. “Umm, no,” Sam said. If it had been one of his sisters pushing this, he probably would have scoffed or rolled his eyes. He needed to be more respectful than that when responding to their mother. Still, he wasn’t going to let Sophie get away with some feminine makeover. He knew full well that this was more about embarrassing him than anything that would actually work for the upcoming wedding.

Now that it was within her grasp, Sophie wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. “Seriously?” she said, sounding slightly incredulous as she glanced towards the others for a moment. “This is Fiona’s wedding, Sam. It’s everyone’s job to make sure my sister has the best day, ever. You’re not willing to try something that might help?”

“I’m not going to put on a dress,” Sam clarified. It wasn’t the first time his slightly younger sister had manipulated things to sound like he was in the wrong, and he wasn’t going to let her make this all about Fiona while conveniently leaving out the part about what he was actually being asked to do.

Michelle knew that it was a big ask. Even if Sam wasn’t as small as he was, there were plenty of boys his age who would be adamantly against wearing girls’ clothes. Instead of letting things devolve into bickering, she stepped in and offered a carrot. Sophie wasn’t wrong about this being Fiona’s big day, and the bride-to-be’s mother would do just about anything to keep her happy. “How about this, Sam?” she said, “That new car you’re getting? Try on the dress and let Sophie experiment a little, and you can have the next tier up for the model you decided on.”

Sam’s father had left him a rather sizable trust, separate from what he had willed to the full family. However, it had been set up so Sam wouldn’t be able to personally access the funds until he turned twenty-five. That way, he’d be a bit more of an adult with a better grasp on how to spend that kind of money responsibly. In the meantime, Michelle had the authority to disperse a portion of the funds to Sam if he requested it and she believed the expense to be reasonable.

Throughout his senior year of high school, Sam had been asking for a car. And, upon graduating, his step-mother had affirmed that they’d pay for half of it with the trust, and let the other half be a gift from her. It still hadn’t happened, since the June wedding had taken up most of everyone’s time and attention over the last month or so.

He was immediately torn. Michelle had already given him a budget, one that was generous yet financially responsible, and Sam had done plenty of research and online browsing since then. He already knew what he wanted; at this point, it was just a matter of making an appointment and possibly waiting until they had the color he preferred. While window shopping, he had longingly looked at some of the add-ons that came with the more expensive tiers, knowing full well that wasn’t happening. Not for a first car, on a smaller budget.

Essentially, he would be getting $10K or so simply for wearing something pink and feminine for five minutes. Objectively, a really good deal. Just at the cost of Sophie forever having the ability to remind him about it; no matter what she said about this being for Fiona, she obviously wanted to see him all dolled up.

With everyone’s eyes on him, he felt pressured to make a choice. “No pictures,” he said, taking a pretty important precaution before allowing his younger sister anywhere near him with her brushes and that dress. “I’m not doing it unless you hold onto Sophie’s phone until afterwards.”

“Aww, you don’t trust me?” Sophie giggled. Not fighting the condition in the slightest, she hopped up from the sofa and handed her smartphone to their mother. “There! Believe it or not, Sammie, this isn’t all about you. Whose wedding is it, again?”

He didn’t need another round of that. Yes, it was Fiona’s big day; that didn’t mean Sophie didn’t have ulterior motives that were obvious to him.

When Sophie practically skipped to the stairs, turning at the base to tell Sam to follow, he briefly considered refusing. Was he actually about to wear Mia’s dress? She was twelve. And a girl. He hadn’t actually seen the flower girl outfit, though he assumed it was bright and frilly. He just told himself it was for the nice car that would likely be better than most of his future classmates at university. Also, he was assuming the dress wouldn’t fit to begin with; as long as he made the effort to put it on, his step-mother would have to give him what had just been promised.

Heading upstairs with Sophie, not as familiar with her relatives’ house as she was, Sam followed her into the guest room that had been temporarily designated as a storage room for bridesmaid dresses, wedding decorations, and so on. Now that it was just the two of them, Sophie could drop the facade a little bit. “Oh, Sammie! You’re going to look adorable.” Still playing it safe in case anyone was within earshot, though she could at least give him a smirk when he was the only one who could see her face. “Here you go!” Easily finding the only pink dress in the closet, she pulled it out and held it up for him to see. “Hmm. Do you think it’s too big for you?”

“Just give it to me.” Ignoring the implication that he was smaller than their little cousin, doing his best to pretend that this was no big deal when they both knew how stupid he would look wearing the outfit designed for a tween girl, Sam took the dress and found the nearest bathroom.

He closed and locked the door behind him, ignoring Sophie’s question about if he needed her to bring him some panties to wear underneath. Once he was sure his sister couldn’t barge in unannounced to check on him, Sam took his first real look at the dress.

It wasn’t actually that bad. At least, it wasn’t as horrible as he had anticipated. The dress was simple in design, with a pink tulle skirt and a plain white top. Still not something he wanted to put on the slightest, though it was better than whatever poofy/frilly/etc. mental image he had assumed from not seeing the dress until now.

Sam briefly considered standing around in his own clothes for a minute or two, then leaving the bathroom and claiming that it didn’t fit at all. Tempting as it was, he knew Sophie would call bullshit, plus he’d guarantee the car upgrade if their mom actually saw him in the dress. Besides, it was already the trade-off he had begrudgingly accepted. Five minutes of embarrassment for years of a better vehicle.

Stripping down to his underwear, he took the flower girl outfit from the hanger and decided to just get it over with. If he didn’t, there was a good chance he’d lose his nerve and back out, better vehicle or not.

One foot after the other, he stepped into the dress and began pulling it up his body, assuming that it was going to be too tight as soon as he reached his thighs and/or waist. Instead, those areas only offered a hint of resistance. To his surprise, Mia’s dress made it all the way up his body, at which point Sam slipped his arms underneath the thin white straps in hopes that his upper body would be the part that didn’t work with the outfit.

With fairly good timing, Sophie knocked on the door just as Sam was taking in the dress on his petite body in the mirror. “Need help, Sammie? Or did you put it on all by yourself?”

“Give me a minute!” he called back through the closed door.

Not that he needed more time to get changed. Sam was stalling for a completely different reason. As he awkwardly shifted this way and that, looking for a reason why the dress didn’t work beyond the fact that he was the wrong gender for it, it didn’t take very long before he realized that Sophie was right about one thing:

The flower girl dress fit him perfectly.

Chapter Two

Sophie gave him ten seconds at best, interpreting her step-brother’s response in a more figurative manner. Why give him a full minute, when it was much more fun to surprise him? Either Sam was already wearing the dress, or still in the process of putting it on. If it was the former, amazing; otherwise, Sophie could double down about how he needed help.

To her annoyance, she wasn’t able to open the door and let herself in. Sophie was used to the doors at their own house, that didn’t lock from the inside. Apparently that was an option at their relatives’ place. “Sammie! Fiona wants to know it fits.” Technically true, though Sophie was more implying that someone had called upstairs and asked.

On the other side of the door, Sam was internally cursing to himself. The dress actually fit?! Mia was only twelve years old. Maybe she was tall for her age; Sam hadn’t seen her in quite some time. As he stood there and incredulously looked at himself in the mirror, he considered whether or not he could get away with claiming that the dress was too small to put on. “I said I need a minute!” he snapped, tensing up as he heard Sophie’s attempt to open the door. Sam remembered from his childhood how some locks at his friends’ houses could be loosened just by jiggling the doorknob roughly enough. As for the excuse, he knew it wouldn’t work. Both Sophie and the others would immediately suspect that he was trying to take the easy way out.

“You’ve had plenty of minutes!” Sophie retorted, “Open the door, Sammie. Everyone’s waiting. If you need help, I’ll help.”

“It’s ‘Sam,’” he said. As usual, only correcting the annoying nickname every now and then. Doing so more often would just make him sound whiny.

Rather than ignoring his insistence like she usually did, Sophie pushed back, using the current situation to her advantage. “It’s ‘Sammie’ as long as you act like a bratty little boy. Are you wearing the dress, or not?”

Sam hesitated. It had been easy to reject Sophie’s offer to help, since putting on the flower girl dress wasn’t complicated in the slightest. All he had to do was step in and pull it all the way up his body. He was less prepared for the yes/no question that left him a lot less wiggle room. Staying silent wouldn’t do him any favors; if anything, it would just hint at the truth. And if he said ‘no,’ they’d be right back to square one about how he needed help. “It doesn’t fit,” he said, splitting the difference.

Apparently that was enough. “But you’re wearing it?!” Sophie pressed. She wasn’t even trying to hide her excitement. “Open the door, Sammie.”

As badly as he didn’t want to, Sam could only delay the inevitable for so long. One way or another, he was going to have to prove that the dress ‘didn’t fit,’ and hiding in the bathroom wasn’t exactly a solution. Bracing himself for Sophie’s reaction, he said, “Fine.” Then he unlocked the door and allowed her to see him wearing a dress, taking some solace in how she didn’t have her phone to take a picture.

Her eyes immediately lit up. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. That’s as far as she got before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Unable to stop himself from blushing at what he more or less expected the bratty girl to be like upon laying eyes on him in the frilly thing, he scowled and said, “I’m changing.”

Catching her breath, still grinning from ear to ear, Sophie said, “What are you talking about, Sammie? It totally fits!” Before he had a chance to retreat into the bathroom and slam the door in her face, she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the stairs, “Come on, let’s go show Fiona!”

“Wait- No, it’s too tight-” He stumbled slightly, not used to moving at such a pace in a skirt that went past his knees. Telling Sophie to slow down would only lead to more teasing, so he just kept reaching for excuses, “I told you, it doesn’t fit. I can tell.” Sam had definitely put on clothes in the past that he had been able to get on his body but were too small to wear comfortably. This could be the same thing, and he wasn’t totally lying; the dress was a little tight around his waist.

“Uh huh. Because you know so much about girls’ clothes.” Sophie easily dismissed his claims. Sam was actually wearing the flower girl dress! There was no way she was going to let him off the hook that easily, especially since Fiona and their mother were the ones really in charge of all the important decisions where the wedding was concerned.

Nearly tripping as they reached the base of the stairs, Sam had to bite his tongue as they turned the corner. The whole point of this was to win brownie points with Michelle, and cursing out his younger sister wouldn’t do him any favors in that regard. Nor would a bad attitude, when he and Sophie had already been given ‘the talk’ about how everyone was expected to be on their best behavior this weekend.

Unlike Sophie, Fiona and Michelle didn’t laugh when they saw him in the childish dress. They looked more surprised than anything else, until Fiona said, “That . . . kind of works.”

“Told you,” Sophie said. She had flipped the ‘good sister/daughter’ switch, no longer sounding smug about Sam’s current image, “A little make-up, and he’ll look just like a girl.”

“What about his hair?” Fiona asked. That was easily Sam’s most boy-ish feature at the moment. The bride-to-be still didn’t look entirely convinced, though she was less skeptical than before Sam had changed.

“We could give Sammie a pixie cut,” Sophie said, “Or hair extensions, maybe?” She paused, then belatedly added a suggestion that was less involved. “I guess we could find a hair band that matches the dress if he doesn’t want us messing with his hair.” Something told her Fiona wouldn’t go for that, when it wasn’t part of the original vision.

Sam was frustrated enough that they were talking about him when he was standing right there, not once asking about his thoughts or opinions. Not that there was a point, when they could all probably guess what he would say. “The dress doesn’t even fit,” he blurted out. It wasn’t a good sign that they were already talking about a makeover, rather than about the dress itself, “It’s too tight.”

“Let me see,” Michelle said. She walked over and tested a few spots, particularly how the straps sat on his shoulders and if the waistband of the tulle skirt worked on his hips. “It’s actually a really good fit,” she said, stepping back, “I hear Mia has started developing; you may be a little bigger than her, but you don’t have the hips or breasts of a girl.”

Sophie snorted. “So it balances out?”

Their mother shot Sophie a look, which prompted the girl to apologize. Then she returned her attention to Sam. “It’s only embarrassing if you make it embarrassing,” she said, “And I agree with Fiona. This could actually work. Why don’t you let Sophie do your make-up, while we talk about your hair.”

“But-” Sam started to protest.

“Do you want the car upgrade, or not?” she firmly asked, then glanced towards the older sister, “Fiona, it’s your decision. Do you think Sam could be our flower girl?”

Fiona nodded. “It’s worth trying. Do you really think he could pass as a girl, Soph?”

Managing to keep a straight face, since she had just experienced how she couldn’t get away with making fun of Sam in front of the others, Sophie said, “Totally. You know I’m good with make-up! I’ll try to do something with his hair, too.”

Sam tried to speak up again, only to be shut down by Michelle. “Fiona’s in charge,” she insisted, “Fiona? Do you want Sam to be an usher, or the flower girl?”

Asking was so pointless, when everyone present knew that their options were a lot more limited for the latter. It was just another way to make it clear that Sam was outnumbered where this absurd yet potentially viable idea was concerned. “I want Sam to be the flower girl,” Fiona affirmed, “We can find someone else to usher.”

At that, Michelle gave Sam a look. End of discussion. Between the carrot of getting a better car, as well as the reminder about how this was Fiona’s weekend, there wasn’t anything he could say. Not without sounding immature and selfish, no matter how awkward this was. His step-mother had also said the thing about how it was only embarrassing if he let himself get embarrassed, so that argument was out as well.

“Let’s go, Sam!” Sophie said. Playing innocent, like she always did to avoid trouble, she used his preferred name and didn’t hold his hand like she had on the way downstairs. Now that her teasing idea was actually becoming a reality, she didn’t want to risk messing with a good thing. Not until Sam was officially the flower girl, which Sophie was determined to make happen with her make-up talents.

The only silver lining Sam could find as he reluctantly followed was that he didn’t have to deal with all three of them seeing him in a dress. For the time being, at least. And, while the dress fit him better than he had expected, he still wasn’t convinced that this idea was realistic. It didn’t matter how talented Sophie was when it came to make-up. Sam was a boy; there was no way anyone would believe he was the opposite gender, nor as young as Mia was, regardless of his size.

Sophie seemed to believe the exact opposite. She led him to the guest bedroom where she was staying, where she grabbed the desk chair and placed it near the center of the room. According to her, it was for better lighting. Sam didn’t know enough about make-up to call her on it, though he suspected she had purposely picked the most awkward spot for him to sit.

Rather than starting with his face, Sophie grabbed a handful of bobby pins from her bag. “Hold still, Sammie,” she instructed him, “These are to keep your hair out of the way.” A solid half-truth. It would be easier to give him a makeover if she had full access to his face. This just happened to double as a way to do something less boy-ish with his dirty blonde locks in the meantime.

She pinned his bangs first, then added a few to each side for good measure. Humming to herself as she worked, which was actually a habit while she focused rather than how Sam assumed she was being smug, Sophie stepped back to admire her handiwork. It was more like he was a ballerina, with his hair done up so it would stay in place regardless of his movements. Not at all how a flower girl would wear it, though it was better than nothing; every little bit counted when convincing Fiona that they could pull this off.

Sam just begrudgingly sat there and let her work. At this point, complaining wouldn’t do him any good. He also didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of reacting as she added more and more pins to his hair. The same held true for the make-up Sophie was about to get started on. Flinching, wincing, etc. would only amuse his sister. It was kind of a lose/lose, as doing as he was told was also not great, though there was a little dignity to sitting there and pretending like he didn’t care.

Grabbing her make-up supplies and setting them down on the edge of the bed, Sophie started with a brush that she would use for Sam’s foundation. It wasn’t as ideal of a set-up as a desk or a counter would be; she didn’t mind the inconvenience, as it was totally worth it to make him visible to anyone who walked by or stepped into the room. Their relatives weren’t currently home, but still. She had to assume wearing a dress meant every little sound would make Sammie nervous.

Tempting as it was to go for something dramatically feminine, Sophie’s goal wasn’t just to embarrass Sam in the short-term. A petite boy like him didn’t have many masculine lines to begin with and, after a few quick passes with the initial brush, she proceeded to soften those features. Her other goal was to make him look more youthful, which honestly didn’t take that much effort. The end result was a much more natural look, almost like he was a tween girl who didn’t wear any make-up.

Sophie took a few steps back, smirking at how convincing the image was. From a slight distance, Sam really did look like a girl, and that was from the perspective of someone who knew who he really was. As she approached him again, the only thing she noticed upon getting closer was that he was wearing make-up. Which was fine. After all, 6th grade was around the time she started experimenting with that.

There were some other details they’d have to take care of for this to work. Sam’s body hair, for starters. The little blonde hairs on his arm were practically invisible, but the rest? While he really didn’t have that much compared to the average boy, the cute wisps on his chest and in his armpits were more than a twelve year old girl would have. And though the tulle skirt mostly covered Sam’s lower half, it would be really funny if he was told to shave his legs anyway.

“That should do it!” Sophie exclaimed. Dusting off her hands for effect, she grabbed Sam’s wrist and tugged him back towards the hall. It would be best if the other two saw the finished product before Sam caught a glimpse of his reflection.

Sam felt the complete opposite. He had been sitting still for what had felt like thirty minutes as Sophie worked on his face, and he would have much preferred finding a mirror before being presented to Fiona and Michelle. When he tried to pull the other way towards the bathroom, however, Sophie tightened her grip.

“Bad girl!” she chastised him, “Don’t be a brat, Sammie. Everyone’s waiting on us.”

Groaning in annoyance, Sam allowed himself to be taken downstairs instead. Part of it was the same issue as before, where walking at a faster pace in the skirt was a bit of a tripping hazard. And there would probably be hell to pay if he ended up causing any damage to the dress.

As soon as they entered the living room, Sophie announced her completed ‘project.’ Smiling, barely managing to keep the expression from looking malicious, she said, “Well, what do you think? Is Samantha your flower girl?”

. . . Samantha?

Before Sam was able to express his distaste for the female version of his name, Fiona blurted out, “Holy shit.” She quickly apologized for the language, then said, “I barely recognize him, Soph.”

“You barely recognize her,” Sophie giggled, further mis-gendering him. Spinning it like she was looking out for him, she said, “I think Sammie should be a girl all weekend. Wouldn’t that be less embarrassing than everyone knowing that a boy his age is the flower girl?” With how he currently looked, it wasn’t that difficult to hint that he should be ‘twelve’ like Mia, rather than his eighteen year old self.

The crazy part was, Sophie’s idea was perfectly reasonable. If Sam was going to be the flower girl, which he was still in denial about, it made a lot more sense to keep anyone from finding out about it. Except his pride was immediately in conflict with the logic of his step-sister’s idea, not to mention how she obviously had the ulterior motive of making him deal with the awkwardness and humiliation of pretending to be a girl for the entirety of their stay.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Michelle nodded, “Should we go with Samantha, or a random name?”

“I like Samantha,” Fiona said, “Then ‘Sammie’ still works. It will be better if he responds naturally to his name.”

“Better if she responds,” Sophie corrected in a similar manner, “If Samantha is a girl this weekend, we should all get used to her gender.”

“WAIT.” Sam raised his voice, unable to take it any more. This was all happening too quickly. The three of them were making decisions that were not nearly as natural for him to process as the one who was being pushed into the new role and opposite gender. “I’m not a girl! This is crazy.”

Sophie bit her tongue. She really wanted to say something, but at this point it was better to let Fiona and their mom take over. Now that they had seen ‘Samantha’ and talked about it for a few seconds, she knew that it was more or less a done deal.

“No one said you were a girl,” Michelle pointed out, “We’re just going to let everyone think that. Think of this as a wedding gift to your sister. And next week, we’ll take you to get that car. Okay?”

“But-” he started, not sure what to say about how this was unfolding.

“This will literally save the wedding,” Fiona said, “And no one has to know it’s you. Please, Sam?”

As if it was up to him at this point. The older sister’s energy just sealed his fate in terms of gently nudging him away from another round of arguing.

When Sam didn’t push back, Michelle took his silence as reluctant agreement. “Samantha, then,” she said, “Let’s try and get used to that. Sophie, she’ll need some clothes for the weekend. Do you two want to run to the store? Samantha, go change out of your dress.”

Chapter Three

Taking off the frilly dress was a relief, though Sam was just as hesitant as before to step out of the bathroom once he was back in his regular clothes. As soon as he did, he was going to have to deal with more ‘Samantha’ references. Everything downstairs had spun out so quickly. Somehow, despite his gender, he was going to be the flower girl at Fiona’s wedding.

Also, a ‘girl’ in general. The make-over Sophie had given him was shockingly convincing. Sam had been the last to see it, and was absolutely stunned at the youthful, feminine version of himself in the mirror. Even after he was back in his plain shorts and t-shirt, the combination of make-up and bobby pins made him look rather girl-ish from the neck up. His bratty step-sister had insisted that he not touch his hair or face while changing and, while he wanted to rebel against her instructions, he knew the others would back her up.

After stalling for another minute or two, he reluctantly returned to the living room. The moment Sophie saw him, she jumped at the chance to have some fun with the false gender they had decided on. “That’s what you’re wearing, Samantha? I can lend you one of my shirts if you want. It’ll be a little big on you, but that’s fine.”

“No, thanks,” Sam muttered. If he was going to suffer through wearing girls’ clothes all weekend, he’d rather delay that for as long as possible.

“Whatever,” Sophie rolled her eyes. She knew better than to push too hard for anything at this point. In Sam’s absence, their mother had lectured both sisters about how this was probably going to be a lot for ‘Samantha’ to handle, and that it would be best to downplay things whenever possible. “But fair warning–we’re going to be looking for brighter colors at the store. The tomboy look is cute, but it’s not as good of a disguise.” To Sophie, that lecture essentially meant ‘don’t get caught making fun of your brother.’ Which was how she already lived her life most of the time, save for when she was testing what she could get away with when it wasn’t just the two of them.

The good news was, no amount of downplaying in the world would save little Sammie from being treated as if he was Mia’s age and gender. Not that anyone had told Sam that he was going to be presented as a twelve year old moving forward. While he was changing, however, that was something the three of them had discussed. Since Sam was their step-brother, the majority of the wedding guests didn’t know him and, more importantly, didn’t know the details of his extended family. If anyone asked, ‘Samantha’ was his little cousin. And he was going to have to act as such if he wanted the simple cover story to hold up.

“Does it really matter?” Sam asked, “No one’s even going to see me until the wedding.”

“Umm, the rehearsal dinner tonight?” Sophie said, “Oh. I guess we should find Samantha something nice to wear for that.”

“You’ll also be joining the bridesmaids for hair and make-up tomorrow,” Michelle added, “And people are going to be coming to and from the house between things. As soon as you’re done shopping with Sophie, it will be best if you stay in girl mode until after the wedding.”

Sam had already begrudgingly accepted that much. As much as he hated the idea of pretending to be a girl, especially when he knew Sophie would never let him live it down, the alternative was letting all the bridesmaids and countless relatives know that Fiona’s brother would be stepping in to solve the flower girl problem.

Except he had no idea what ‘girl mode’ was supposed to entail. Apparently he could pass as a girl with the proper make-up and clothes, but he certainly didn’t sound like the opposite gender. And pretending to be some shy, soft-spoken tween would only get him so far when someone outside his immediate family was bound to talk to him at some point.

“Let’s go, Samantha,” Sophie smiled, “I’m driving, right? You’re too young for a learner’s permit!”

Her mother didn’t catch the subtle teasing about both the false age and false gender, or at least didn’t comment on it as she was asked about the logistics. They only had the one car for the weekend, which really wasn’t a problem when they’d be carpooling for just about every outing. “Right,” she said, “From now on, Samantha is your niece.”

Still smiling, Sophie nodded and said, “Got it. Should I just use my credit card, or . . . ” She spent another minute or two on details, playing the part of a sister who needed direction when she already had a good idea of what this shopping trip was going to look like. Her little trick worked, since Michelle eventually said to just use her best judgment. As long as Sam had a nice dress for the rehearsal dinner, the rest of it didn’t really matter beyond making him look like a believable girl.

As they walked out to the car, Sophie teased that he should really sit in the back seat. They were out of state at the moment, and the laws might be different regarding how tall someone needed to be to sit up front. Sam ignored her and got in the passenger seat. The moment the doors were closed, he snapped, “This isn’t fucking funny.”

“One, yes it is,” Sophie giggled. She put the key in the ignition of the minivan, taking a moment to find a good radio station before pulling away from the curb, “Two, watch your fucking language. I doubt Mia is allowed to curse. Three, you better be nice to me. You do realize nothing’s stopping me from taking pictures of you as ‘Samantha,’ right?”

Teasing as it was, that was a valid threat. And also one that he was pretty sure Sophie would do no matter how well he played along with all of this. Then there was the wedding photographer, who would be snapping crisp photos of him walking down the aisle in the pink dress and tossing petals. Fuck. Was it too late to back out of this? Probably not, when he so desperately wanted that new car, and would just be guilt tripped by Fiona and Michelle if he tried to get out of the solution they had found for Mia’s unexpected absence.

Sophie drove them to the nearest department store, where she hopped out of the car and cheerily said, “Let’s go, Samantha! Aren’t you so excited to go shopping with your older cousin? We’re going to find you so many cute clothes!”

His attitude was the complete opposite of hers. Scowling, dragging his feet, and still wondering if it was possible to get out of this when he knew full well the train had already left the station. As they approached the main doors, Sam’s annoyance shifted to nervousness when he saw a small group of girls about his age heading towards the entrance from the other side of the parking lot. It didn’t matter that they were in a different city and he had no connection to them; he still didn’t want to be seen wearing make-up and with a bunch of bobby pins in his hair.

Apparently the look on his face and/or his body language were obvious, as Sophie scoffed and said, “You do realize we’re here to get you girls’ clothes, right? Better get used to girls being around.”

Sam hadn’t even thought about that. It was rather obvious, now that Sophie had said it out loud. He had only ever shopped in the boys/men sections; sometimes, he needed to sneak into the former when a mens’ small was a little too big for him. However, the embarrassment of occasionally buying clothes designed for younger guys paled in comparison to following Sophie through the section she’d insist he follow her into. The whole point of going with her was so they could shop together.

He reluctantly followed her to that part of the store, knowing it was way too late to backpedal on all this. Fiona and Michelle were expecting him to take Mia’s role, Sam was going to get a nice car for his trouble, and he was going to have to deal with Sophie being a brat no matter what; at least this way, he’d avoid the embarrassment of anyone else knowing who was really wearing the flower girl dress.

“Okay!” Sophie chirped, after briefly scanning the area. She had taken them to the girls’ section, since that’s where their little cousin would be shopping for clothes. Not caring who might be within earshot, she said, “Panties first. Why don’t you look around and see if there’s anything you like?”

“What? I don’t need-” Sam hesitated. Despite being eighteen, he still had some maturing to do. Like how the word ‘panties’ felt weird to say out loud. “I already have underwear.” He had worn boxers underneath the dress earlier, and was assuming he could do the same with whatever they found here.

Not lowering her voice in the slightest to match how Sam was speaking more quietly, Sophie said, “You have boy underwear, Sammie. Girls wear girl underwear. You’re going to be a girl this weekend, aren’t you? That means panties.”

Sam flushed slightly as he glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. “Okay, okay!” he hissed. Though it was just him and Sophie for the time being, there could easily be a girl or multiple girls one aisle over who were listening in on the interaction. If they weren’t in public, he would have kept arguing about how he could run over and grab a pack of briefs. He hadn’t worn those in years, but they’d obviously be preferable to panties.

Grinning as soon as he caved, Sophie said, “Okay, then. So do you want to pick out your own panties? Or let your older sister find something appropriate for you?”

Neither. But Sam knew he was going to have to choose his own. As much as he didn’t want to give Sophie the chance to tease him about how he was wearing feminine underwear that he picked out, the alternative was worse. Sophie would absolutely find the girliest shit possible if given the opportunity; meanwhile, Sam could aim for something plain and white that was as close to briefs as he could manage.

Heading to the underwear section, praying that no one else would be shopping for that over the next couple minutes, it was surprisingly easy to find a pack of simple, white panties. The part that took longer was how he needed to look up male sizes vs. female sizes on his phone, since apparently buying underwear as a girl wasn’t as straightforward as small/medium/large.

Why hadn’t Sophie grabbed a shopping cart for them? Without anywhere to put the panties, Sam had no choice but to carry them around as he looked for his step-sister. She had made herself busy looking for shirts, none of which were as neutral as the underwear he had picked out. “There you are!” she smiled, “Find some panties that you like?”

More like some panties that were as painless as he could manage. “I can find my own clothes, too,” he said. Anything would be better than the small collection of bright pink tops that were draped over Sophie’s arm.

She just rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Let me guess. A bunch of boring blacks and grays? You do realize the whole point of this is to fool everyone, right? So you need to dress like Samantha. My twelve year old ‘cousin.’ Yes?”

. . . Yes. No matter how many times Sam had been reminded of the plan, he still hadn’t fully embraced the reality of it.

When Sam failed to come up with any kind of retort, Sophie moved on, “Now we just need to find you some skirts. I bet Mia is wearing training bras by now, too. And those shoes are way too boy-ish.” She gestured to his dark sneakers, then thought for a moment. “How about you go find some shoes for yourself? Something pink. I can figure out the rest.”

He didn’t love the idea of giving Sophie free reign to choose everything else, not that it would matter if he tagged along while she browsed. Every time he had said something so far, she had easily dismissed his complaints. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how she might respond if he argued about how he didn’t want to wear a skirt, when she’d just use the same logic about how that would make him seem more like a girl than shorts.

Deciding not to fight it, when splitting up would be the quickest way they’d be done with the shopping trip, Sam went to find a pair of shoes that were more girly than what he was currently wearing. It made sense that Sophie put him in charge of this, as she wouldn’t be able to guess his foot size as easily as she was doing for everything else. As for ‘something pink,’ he had plenty of options. The department store very much leaned into the stereotypical pink/purple colors for girls, and it didn’t take long before Sam found something acceptable.

Avoiding the dark pinks and anything else that would draw more attention than necessary, Sam found a pair that was a combination of a few lighter shades of pink. Good enough. Similar to his experience shopping for panties, it took a quick search and trying on a couple sizes before finding a pair that fit.

Just as he was putting the right ones back in the box, Sophie appeared with an armful of clothes. “All done, Samantha? I think I’ve got everything else. Shirts, skirts, training bras, and cute socks. You’re going to make such a pretty girl. Still have those panties you wanted to buy?”

Whether the bratty teen did it on purpose or not, her cheerful summary coincided with two girls walking past them. They glanced over and saw what was clearly a boy in make-up and bobby pins, and giggled to themselves at the sight of all the bright clothes in Sophie’s arms. While they wouldn’t know the context, the teasing lilt in Sophie’s voice was rather telling.

Sam blushed furiously while glaring at Sophie. Though the girls didn’t really break their stride, it was impossible to miss them whispering to each other and glancing back in amusement/curiosity until turning down the aisle they had been heading towards.

“What the fuck, Sophie?” he snapped. Standing up from where he had just been trying on shoes, panties sitting on top of the small cardboard box, he utterly failed to look intimidating thanks to why they were shopping in the first place as well as the height advantage she had.

“Language, Sammie!” Placing a hand on her hip, she explained, “You need to act your age this weekend. Remember, you’re twelve years old. So you aren’t allowed to swear. Also, you should start practicing your little girl voice. What are you going to do if someone besides us talks to you?”

He had no idea. He really hadn’t thought that far ahead, when dealing with the present was already a lot. How was he going to talk to literally anyone besides his immediate family? As the ‘flower girl,’ it wasn’t as if he’d be invisible. Michelle would be too busy to run interference for him, and Sophie couldn’t be trusted to help out like that; if anything, Sam was assuming Sophie would find a way to draw unwanted attention to him. He’d have to either act like a little girl, or be caught as a guy fulfilling the role. Regardless, that would be a win for his step-sister.

As for the swearing, that didn’t matter. Not right now, anyway. “I’ll fucking swear if I want to,” he rolled his eyes, “We don’t have to do this ‘younger cousin’ thing until later.”

“Think of it like one of your silly video games,” Sophie said, mimicking his eye roll with one of her own, “Don’t you get better when you practice and build good habits and whatever?” Of course, the same could be said about pretty much every hobby. “The sooner you get into character, the less likely you are to slip up and let everyone know that we actually have a flower boy for Fiona’s wedding.”

Sophie wasn’t wrong. That didn’t mean Sam was just going to roll over and start talking in a high pitched voice and keeping his vocabulary PG. He’d be better off waiting until they were back at the house, at which point he could insist that he would only do this for Fiona if there was a way to minimize the kinds of interactions Mia probably would have gone through.

Not pressing the issue for the time being, when Sophie knew that Sam was in too deep to back out at this point, she simply led the way towards the front of the store. Buying him a bunch of girls’ clothes was enough of a victory, anyway.

Tempted as she was to insist that he should change in the bathroom after checking out, to see if his little disguise would fool anyone on the way back to the car, she doubted it would be easy to convince him. Better to wait until he was outnumbered again, especially since the women of the family had the same ‘it’s for Fiona’s big weekend’ card they could play again and again.

Instead, she went a little more tame and made Sam carry all the bags. That’s what the boy is supposed to do, and he should ‘enjoy his gender while he still can.’

Because in less than an hour, Sam would be putting on panties and officially getting all dolled up as ‘Samantha’ for the weekend.

Chapter Four

When they arrived back at the house, there was immediately a complication.

A car that Sam didn’t recognize had taken their spot in the driveway, and someone else had parked on the curb. He wasn’t ready for anyone to see him like this! Wasn’t all the wedding stuff supposed to be the following day? He hadn’t considered that Fiona might end up having company that wasn’t on the itinerary, since the bridesmaids were all friends and relatives of hers.

Naturally, Sophie was more amused than worried. “Oh, no,” she smiled, “You want to be ‘Samantha’ for the weekend, right? What if you’re seen in these silly boy clothes?”

He definitely didn’t want that to happen. While disguising himself as a girl was humiliating in its own way, a day or two of pretending to be the opposite gender was better than forever dealing with the ‘flower boy’ reputation at future family gatherings and other events. “Shut up,” he muttered, not appreciating the suggestion that he wanted any of this. It was all for the new car, and whatever bullshit about being a team player for the wedding. “Just find somewhere for me to change.” There had to be a store nearby with a public bathroom or something.

“Don’t talk to your older cousin like that,” Sophie said, “And we’re already here. Just change in the car. Here, give me a second.” She popped the trunk and got out of the car to look through the clothes they had just bought for him.

Sam started to protest, only to sulk in silence when Sophie closed the door behind her. He was in no position to argue, when someone might glimpse him from inside, or even come out to grab something from one of the other cars and head over upon seeing Sophie. The sooner they dealt with this, the better.

A minute or two later, his bratty sister circled around to the passenger side and handed him a pink skirt and a pair of plain white panties from the pack he had chosen. “Put these on,” she instructed him, “I’ll stand watch.” Noticing the hesitant look on his face, she scoffed and said, “Why do you think we bought all this stuff for you, Sammie? You have to wear it. Or do you not want to be Samantha any more?”

Another unfair use of ‘want.’ The flower boy thing was bad either way; Sam was just choosing the least painful option. Sophie was going to tease him relentlessly about this either way, and would no doubt take satisfaction every time she made him blush and/or every time he complained about what they both knew he’d end up doing anyway. “Don’t look,” he muttered, begrudgingly taking the skirt and underwear.

“At what?” she giggled, “Your little virgin dick? I doubt there’s anything to see down there. And I bet you’ll fit perfectly into those panties.”

Immediately failing at his resolve to not react in a way that entertained her, Sam looked absolutely stunned as she closed the door in his face. Sure, he had dealt with plenty of obnoxious teasing revolving around his height, but it had never been that crass or overt before. And though they weren’t blood related, it was still all kinds of wrong and inappropriate for his step-sister to reference that.

She wasn’t that far off, either. Sam was on the smaller side, like everything else when it came to his body, and hadn’t yet sealed the deal with a girl. He had gotten to second and third base a few times, but that was it. But that didn’t mean Sophie could insult him like that, lucky guess or not.

He wasn’t given a chance to express as much. True to her word, Sophie started standing watch, by leaning against the passenger door. Not exactly something he could complain about, when she had positioned herself in a way that blocked him from anyone who might be walking by or coming out of the house. It just doubled as a not so subtle means of making it so he couldn’t open the door, leaving him stuck with the task of changing into the feminine clothes. That, or awkwardly climbing over to the driver’s side if he decided to get out of the car on his own terms and bail on the ‘Samantha’ idea.

Opting for the former, since he knew he was on the hook for the flower girl role whether he leaned into it or not, Sam undid the button and zipper on his shorts. After double checking that Sophie wasn’t tricking him and setting herself up to turn around and take a picture or something like that, he lifted his ass off the seat and began working his shorts and underwear down. He had changed in the car before, though it was usually just a matter of doing so with his outer layers. Going fully bottomless was a bit more awkward, both because of the semi-public setting, as well as how his bare backside against the leather a few seconds later wasn’t too comfortable.

Using his removed boxers to cover his private area, he then slipped his feet into the leg holes of the panties. Normally, he would be a lot more hesitant to put on girls’ underwear. When wearing nothing below the waist, however, he was more inclined to cover as quickly as possible. Pulling the unfamiliar underwear up his legs, he shifted the boxers away and lifted up again in order to get the panties the rest of the way on.

Like Sophie had taunted him about, they fit perfectly. Not that crazy, considering they had picked out panties that were in his size. Even so, he cringed at the fabric that was more soft and thin than he was used to. When he was younger, he wore briefs. As it turned out, panties were nothing at all like that save for the vague color/cut.

The thought of being seen in panties was almost as bad as being caught fully bottomless. Once again using the boxers to temporarily cover, he unfolded the pink skirt and stepped into it.

This was the first time he had really looked at the garment. The skirt’s waistband was stretchy, so he could just slip it on and not worry about dealing with a zipper. That, and it was something Sophie could buy for him without having him try it on in a changing room to make sure it fit. Similar to the panties, the skirt sat on his waist in a way that wasn’t too tight or too loose. He blushed slightly at the lack of fabric between his thighs, like he was used to with jeans or shorts, as well as how he was showing a little more leg than before.

Now that he had dealt with the personal embarrassment of wearing panties and a skirt, he was going to have to suffer through Sophie’s amusement. Sam knocked on the window of the passenger door, since he wouldn’t be able to easily open it while she was leaning there. That, and her ass was kind of in his face on the other side of the glass, which he didn’t want to get an eyeful of.

Sophie turned around when she heard him knocking. She opened the door, immediately grinning at the sight of him wearing the pink skirt. “Oh my God, Samantha. That skirt is so cute. You’re wearing panties, right?”

Obviously. Were the shorts and boxers in his hand not telling enough. Sure, he could have gone commando, though doing so under a skirt would have been awkward. Either way, he wasn’t about to affirm what kind of underwear he had on, when pretty much anything he said would make his sister enjoy the situation more.

Rather than pushing it, since she’d find out sooner or later, Sophie merely said, “Anyway, the rest of you isn’t as cute. Wait here. I’ll get some more of your girl clothes.” Knowing he had no intention of getting out of the car while looking mismatched between the skirt and his shoes/t-shirt that he had been wearing all day, she went back to the trunk to grab a few more items from the shopping bags back there.

“Your new shoes,” she said, tossing the sneakers with various shades of pink onto the floor by his feet, “And your very first training bra.” Assuming he’d be hesitant to touch the undergarment, Sophie simply dropped it onto his lap. “It’s okay to be a late bloomer, Samantha. In the meantime, this will get you used to having boobs.”

He cringed at how she was talking to him as if he was a tween girl like Mia. Again, it was just the two of them. There was no reason for them to pretend at the moment, save for the ‘getting into character’ thing she said earlier. As if this was anything but her amusing herself by treating him like a girl. “I’m not wearing that,” he muttered. The shoes were one thing, considering sneakers were more familiar to him than a skirt. And he had worn underwear before, so panties were tolerable at some level. But he was a boy, and had never worn a bra in his life.

Sophie just sighed. “I bet Mia isn’t this much of a brat. We bought you training bras for a reason, Sammie. You need to wear panties and a bra for this to work. Okay?”

“But-” he hesitated. First of all, he wasn’t being a brat just because he didn’t want to embarrass himself. At the same time, he could only argue so much after being reminded that the whole point of this was to convince everyone that he was a girl. Even if that meant dealing with the discomfort of a bra and letting his younger sister boss him around.

“You’ll be fine, sis,” Sophie said, dismissing his would-be complaints before he could get to them, “I get the whole tomboy thing, but a few curves will make this a lot more believable. Now, are you going to put on your bra, or not?”

Did she really have to refer to it as his bra? Still, Sam knew that she was right. All it would take was one person noticing his boy-ish features for this whole plan to unravel; the more he looked like a girl, the less closely people would be looking at him. “Fine,” he muttered, “Close the door.” The other reason he wanted to just get on with it is that he was still worried about how Sophie just hanging out by the car would draw attention to her, or both of them if someone saw him in the passenger seat.

He started by taking off his shoes, delaying the inevitable while still feeling just as awkward about the girly footwear. Slipping his foot into the small shoe that would certainly add to the immature ‘tween’ image, he tied the dark pink laces while wondering if Sophie being taller than him meant that her girls’ foot size was bigger than his as well. If so, that was yet another thing he’d probably end up being teased about when she realized.

From the waist down, he was ‘Samantha’ after putting on the second shoe. His leg hair made him a little bit nervous, though it was barely visible. Sam didn’t have much body hair in general, and being blonde made his fine wisps nearly invisible. Someone touching his leg would be able to tell, but he couldn’t imagine why anyone would do that.

Sophie was once again leaning against the closed passenger door, giving him a little privacy to deal with the more daunting task. After glancing towards the house and the area nearby, he reluctantly removed his shirt. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to put on a bra, but it was either that or deal with another round of arguing with Sophie. There wasn’t a clasp or anything, so he just slipped his arms through the straps and pulled the white cotton garment over his head.

Training bra, indeed. The stretchy material had the slightest bit of weight on the cups and, most noticeably, would make it appear as if he had two small mounds on his chest while wearing a shirt.

It only dawned on him after putting the thing on that Sophie had just given him shoes and a bra. No shirt. Sam wasn’t about to let her see him in the skirt/bra combo, so he hastily put his own shirt back on before knocking on the window like before.

His dark top wasn’t enough to hide the new curves underneath. The moment Sophie opened the car door and took in the sight of him, she giggled. “Looking good, sis! Just tell me how old you are, and I’ll get you a top to round out the outfit.”

He might have been more resistant if this hadn’t already dragged on for several minutes, on top of the embarrassing trip to the store. “I’m twelve,” he said.

“Your voice is almost as flat as your chest,” Sophie smirked, “Come on, like you mean it. Everyone’s going to know you’re a boy if you say it like that.”

If Sam were actually a girl, he might’ve been offended by a teasing/catty comment like that; no amount of ‘getting into character’ would be enough to make him feel self conscious about not having boobs. Of course, there were plenty of other things to feel self conscious about. “I’m not talking like a girl,” he said. As if the same logic Sophie had used thus far wouldn’t work just as well on that point.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Better hope nobody talks to you all weekend long. Anyway, at least tell me how old you are.”

“I’m eighteen,” he said. Wearing all the feminine clothes he had already put on was overwhelming enough; there was no need to pretend to be Mia’s age just yet. “I’ll be a girl and act younger and whatever when we go inside. Okay? Now get me a shirt or I’ll get one myself.” He was dressed, mostly, so leaving the car would probably be fine.

“Such a brat,” Sophie rolled her eyes, “You’re not eighteen, Samantha. For the rest of the weekend, you’re twelve years old. And, as your older sister, it’s my job to keep you in line. Now be a good little girl and wait right there.” To emphasize the demand, she closed the door in his face before going back to the trunk to grab a top for him to change into.

He begrudgingly did as he was told. The alternative would be getting out of the car simply for the sake of being petty and contrarian, which would give Sophie another excuse to call him a ‘brat.’ Putting aside the tween girl disguise, it was just as absurd being referred to by that term when his step-sister was actually the younger one. This was a lose/lose moment either way, since staying put made him a ‘good little girl’ per the other obnoxious way she had described him.

It didn’t take long before Sophie was back with the final piece of the simple ensemble. “Here you go, Samantha,” she said, obviously enjoying the feminine version of his name. Similar to how she dropped the training bra on his lap, she tossed him a white tank top to change into. Generally, it’s better to wear a nude bra underneath white, though that’s not something every tween knows right away. This was Sophie’s way of subtly giving credibility to the false age.

Once Sam had the same cover as before, between his sister and the closed door, he peeled off his shirt and put on the tank top. It wasn’t that different from the ones he wore in the summer, save for the fabric being a little lighter than he was not used. Not quite as dramatic as the difference between panties and briefs, but enough for him to notice.

This time, Sophie didn’t wait for a knock. After giving it twenty seconds or so, she turned around just as he was getting the top settled over the training bra. She opened the door without any warning, beaming down at him and being annoyingly enthusiastic as she ‘complimented’ his new look. “WOW. You look so cute, Sammie! Pink and white is a really good combo for blondes, by the way. Anyway, ready to head inside?”

Not really. The rearview mirror wasn’t currently angled towards him, and he hadn’t thought to check his reflection at any point throughout the arduous changing process. Part of him wanted to know how ridiculous he looked, although ignorance was arguably better. Not that he could fully ignore how he looked, when he could see plenty of himself below the neck.

He had already gone through the effort of dressing up, and letting Sophie see him like this was more embarrassing than some bridesmaid he didn’t know. Of course, he still had to suffer through Fiona and Michelle seeing him as ‘Samantha’ for the first time. Wearing the flower girl dress didn’t really count, since that was more ‘boy in dress’ than his current image with the headband and youthful, girly outfit Sophie had picked out for him.

“Grab your new clothes, Samantha,” Sophie said, in that same amused lilt he had heard countless times over the last hour, “Unless you have a boyfriend around to carry your shopping bags, that’s your responsibility.”

Not dignifying that with a response, and grateful the plastic bags from the store weren’t more feminine like a shopping trip at the mall would result in, he retrieved everything from the trunk and headed towards the house without a word.

Maybe he could find a way to sneak upstairs to delay anyone seeing him. Knowing Sophie, however, she was bound to announce their arrival in a way that would make it impossible for him to get away with that.

Hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, he quietly opened the front door.

Chapter Five

Sam knew that telling his sister not to do anything was a surefire way to make her do exactly the opposite. He just went straight for the stairs, going for speed over silence when he realized someone would catch a glimpse of him no matter what thanks to how the only way to get to the floor above was to pass by the living room.

Sure enough, Sophie was determined to have as much fun as possible with his situation. “We’re back!” she exclaimed, “Who wants to see Samantha’s new outfit?”

So much for slipping away without interacting with anyone. “Sammie!” Michelle called him over right as he reached the first step, “Don’t be rude. Come introduce yourself to Fiona’s friends.”

Wasn’t it obvious where he was going? And he wasn’t ready to introduce himself to anyone. Had the other girls been told about the plan, or did they think he was actually a girl? It definitely threw him when he was called ‘Sammie,’ when Sophie was normally the only one to use the annoying nickname.

The hesitation was enough for Sophie to catch up to him. “Don’t be shy, Sammie,” she giggled. Placing a hand on the small of his back, she nudged him away from the stairs and towards the living room. “You’re allowed to hang out with the big girls.”

Just like that, he was face to face with two girls he had never met before. Bridesmaids, presumably. They were both super attractive, too. Before, he might have fantasized about how he maybe had a chance with them, even if they were young adults and he was a college guy. Now, he was expecting them to burst into laughter at any moment.

“Hey, Sammie!” The busty redhead greeted him, “Or do you prefer Samantha?”

Her tank top made it quite the effort to not check out her cleavage. As for her question, the answer mattered a lot less compared to how he answered. Loath as he was to admit it, Sam realized that Sophie had been right about the whole girl voice thing. It wasn’t as if he could just be mute for the whole weekend, and talking like a boy would mean that he had dressed up like a tween girl for nothing.

“She prefers Samantha,” Michelle said, committing to both the false name and the false gender. The full name sounded more feminine, too. “Did you two have a fun shopping trip?”

“So much fun!” Sophie answered for them, “What do you think of her new shoes?”

“Cute!” the other bridesmaid replied, “I went through a pretty big pink phase last year. Those would’ve been great for my workouts!”

“Focus up, girls,” Fiona chuckled. She gestured to the laptop on the coffee table, where they were double checking everything for the coming days.

Taking that as her cue to usher her ‘sister’ out of the room, Sophie shot Fiona a wink as she led Sam back towards the stairs.

He tried to head towards the guest room he was staying in, only for Sophie to stop him. “Where are you going, Samantha?” she quietly asked, “We’re not done yet.”

What else was there to do? He was dressed from head to toe in the clothes they had just purchased. The more time he spent with Sophie, the more she was going to be entertained at his expense. Except he could hardly make a scene at the top of the stairs, when there was a chance his male voice would carry to the floor below.

Begrudgingly following her to the room at the other end of the hall, he closed the door behind them before finally speaking up. “What do you mean we’re not done?” he flatly asked.

Sophie giggled. “Sorry. It’s just, you really can’t pull off ‘serious boy’ right now. But hey, looks like Fiona’s friends bought it. Congrats, Sammie. You can pass as a little girl.”

Hardly a reason for congratulations. Rather than taking the bait, he simply said, “Okay, it worked. So, we’re done.”

“It worked for now,” she clarified, “But they weren’t looking that closely, were they? You need to shave. Your whole body. And am I going to be talking for you all weekend?”

“But-” he hesitated. Body hair was something else he hadn’t considered amidst the embarrassment of Sophie’s idea that the other women had decided to run with. He was literally wearing a skirt. Though he didn’t have much leg hair, making the blonde wisps difficult to see from a distance, someone was bound to notice once he was seated and there was more proximity between them.

“You’re fine,” Sophie rolled her eyes, “It will grow back, won’t it?”

Well, yes. But still.

Not waiting for him to argue about what they both knew she was right about, she said, “Go shower. And no using your boring boy soap; use mine instead. Honestly, you should be thanking me; that stuff is expensive. Make sure you get everywhere with the razor, too. Legs, armpits, chest. Ooh, you should probably do your crotch, too. Just in case!”

He grimaced at both the suggestion, as well as how casually his sister referenced that part of his body. It wasn’t quite as overt as what she said earlier, though it was still awkward for him due to both their relationship and how they were opposite genders despite the ‘Samantha’ thing.

“Right now?” he asked. It was kind of a weird time for a shower, since he normally only did so in the morning or at night, plus he had already rinsed off earlier.

Sophie rolled her eyes again. “How else are you going to get rid of all that gross boy hair? You’re a girl, Sammie. Right?”

Wrong. But he was going to have to pretend for the next few days. And Sophie wasn’t exactly wrong; his hair would grow back. The main problem, aside from letting himself be put through this, was that he had never shaved like that before. He had no idea how long it would take for his body hair to return.

At least a shower meant a break from Sophie, as well as a moment to catch his breath. Ever since she and the others discussed whether or not he could pull off being the flower girl for the wedding, it had been full steam ahead on the transformation.

Unfortunately, Sophie wasn’t going to let him go off just like that. “Wait. I’ll come with you,” she insisted, when he walked out of the room to get the shaving done before he could talk himself out of it. “You probably need a tutorial in being a little girl.”

The guest bathroom was a little cramped with both of them in there. This was also the first time Sam had seen his reflection since he had changed in the car. The ‘girl’ looking back at him was embarrassingly convincing, especially with the training bra that added a hint of a curve to his chest. It wasn’t quite as bad as when he had been wearing the frilly flower girl dress, though wearing casual tween girl clothes was still awkward when he was used to how he normally dressed and looked in the mirror.

“Okay!” Sophie exclaimed, acting more peppy than necessary in the resonant bathroom, “This will be fun. I’ve never had a little sister before. I hope she isn’t too much of a brat.” Then she launched into everything Sam would need to know about how he would do things compared to his normal hygiene ritual. “Make-up wipes do exactly what the name suggests. Do that before you shower. Take out your bobby pins and put them wherever for now. Like I said, you need to use all of my products when you shower, since we want you smelling like a girl. I’m assuming you don’t normally condition your hair? Of course you don’t. So, you want to work the conditioner into those girly blonde locks, then leave it in there for a while. I’d say wash and shave your whole body, and then rinse the conditioner out. Oh, and Sammie? I meant what I said about shaving your crotch. If someone else ends up helping you with one of your dresses this weekend, you don’t want them catching a glimpse of anything down there. You’re twelve years old. You’re a girl. You need to look the part, Samantha.”

Instructive as his step-sister was being, the constant references to him being a ‘girl’ made it obvious that she was enjoying this. Most of what she went through was pretty straightforward, and there were only a few additions to his usual process. He mostly ended up focusing on the last part. Would one of the other bridesmaids be involved at some point? It made sense, when thinking about how Mia would probably be assisted with this or that if she were here. He was more mature than the original flower girl, though no one but his immediate family knew that. And, while he could suffer through shaving down there, wouldn’t his privates still be noticeable in just panties?

He would just have to rely on the fact that Sophie wouldn’t risk revealing his real age or gender, when she was obviously having fun treating him as if he were her little sister. She also didn’t give him much time to think about it. “Hop to it, girly!” she said, pulling back the shower curtain, “Everyone is waiting on us!” Giving him some privacy, she left the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Sighing to himself after another reluctant glance in the mirror, Sam began undressing. The peace and quiet he had been looking forward to was only so peaceful when he had to deal with so many steps he wasn’t used to. Taking off a training bra, for starters. Then there were the bobby pins to remove and the make-up to wipe off. At least he looked more like a boy after stripping down and undoing Sophie’s little makeover.

That relief didn’t last very long when he knew what was next. The pink razor on the counter was impossible to ignore, and he also wasn’t thrilled to be using all of Sophie’s products.

Even so, he turned on the water and waited for it to heat up, reminding himself all the while that he was doing this to get a more expensive car than he would have received before.

The first part was tolerable. Aside from applying conditioner to his hair, the rest was a familiar process, and one that he rushed through due to already being clean from his shower that morning. Shaving, however, took SO long. He started with his legs, which seemed like the most tedious. Sure enough, it took a while to get all that, and he was starting to feel rushed when there was only so much hot water left.

Sam really didn’t have much arm hair or chest hair, so that was simply a matter of making a few passes with the razor. Then it was time to take care of his crotch. He still wasn’t convinced that it was necessary to be smooth all over, when being a natural blond and wearing underwear would theoretically be enough to keep anyone from seeing his private area. But on the slim chance that somebody noticed, he didn’t want to risk it. Besides, the same logic applied in terms of how he’d be covered as he grew it all back. If anything, his legs would be more embarrassing since it was late summer and he’d be wearing shorts once the wedding was over and things were back to normal.

It was so weird seeing himself fully hairless. His legs were one thing, but it literally looked like he hadn’t gone through puberty now that he had shaved where it counted most. By the time he was rinsing off the last of the shaving cream, followed by the conditioner in his hair, the water was barely lukewarm. And, when he turned the water off and was hit with a draft from the cool AC, Sam looked even less mature down there.

“All done, Samantha?” Sophie asked. Had she just been hanging out in the hallway? Or maybe she had just walked by to check on his progress every now and then. Either way, she let herself into the bathroom without knocking when there was no longer the sound of running water on the other side of the door. “You’re taking forever in here. It’s almost like you’re a girl, or something.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Sam muttered. Instead of grabbing a towel like he normally would, he awkwardly shivered behind the curtain. It wasn’t as if he could do anything else, when he was naked and Sophie was on the other side.

“Say it like a girl,” Sophie insisted, “Mom and Fiona told me to make sure you sound like Mia before we join everyone downstairs. Go on, Sammie. Give me your best little girl voice!”

He flushed at the thought of speaking in a higher tone. There was no way it would be believable and, up until now, he had been in denial about that being part of the disguise. Couldn’t he just throw a few petals, then skip the reception? And also not socialize with the bridesmaids ahead of time or whatever? Unfortunately, it sounded like the others had made the decision in his absence.

Calling out his hesitation and happily teasing him about it, she asked, “Aww, is someone shy? Don’t worry, I’ll stay right here until you try. I’ll just take these towels, too. It’s really up to you, Samantha. Are you going to be a brave little girl, or . . . ?”

“Seriously?” he replied. As usual, Sophie was technically doing what the rest of her family wanted, while putting her own bitchy spin on it. And there wasn’t much Sam could do in response, when she was taking advantage of the fact that he was in a vulnerable position.

“Seriously,” she said, “And pouting about your mean older sister isn’t going to get you anywhere. Come on, just show me that you can pass as a girl. Not just physically; that’s the easy part.”

The one good part about being behind the shower curtain was that Sophie couldn’t see him scowl or blush at the insult about his size. Or how she was leaning into the story that he was the original flower girl’s age.

Did he actually have to do this? Similar to everything else she had thrown at him, Sophie had an annoying way of pointing out that there was a good reason for him to go through this with her. Practicing now would ensure that no one caught his male voice mixed with whatever embarrassing, high pitched nonsense he was going to have to come up with. But also, he knew full well that she was entertaining herself with the situation along the way.

Every second he stalled was another second Sam was letting Sophie be amused by his reluctant silence. Sighing to himself, knowing that he was going to have to suffer through at least a few instances of pretending to be a girl, he went with something that was a hybrid of feminine and sarcastic. “Like, oh my God. Get out, Sophie!”

Obviously, it wasn’t intimidating in the slightest. She laughed out loud at the attempt, only criticizing him after catching her breath. “Yeah, that needs some work. You’re twelve, not five. Starting middle school in a month, right?”

Something like that. He could barely remember 6th grade as a boy, let alone what it would be like as the opposite gender. “I can practice without you,” he said.

“Should’ve been practicing this whole time,” she countered, “And you still sound like a child. Be a tween girl, Sammie. A little more mature. Just a little. You’re still my annoying little sister, after all.”

Begrudgingly going along with the exercise, thoroughly flustered by the time Sophie said that she believed that it was her little sister on the other side of the curtain, Sam tried to recreate the feminine tone he had just found. “Now put the towel back and give me some privacy.”

Whether he was talking like a boy or a girl, there was still no authority when he was naked and it had already been established that they were playing by Sophie’s rules. Probably would be all weekend, since she was a little bit responsible for him when there were only so many people who knew the truth. Michelle would be busy with last minute wedding prep stuff, and Fiona wasn’t going to have a minute of downtime until after the reception.

Sophie knew it, too. “In a minute, Samantha,” she said. For once, he would have preferred ‘Sammie,’ even if that was now going to be perceived as a nickname for the female version of his name. “First, did you shave?”

“Yes. You don’t-” That’s as far as he got.

“Umm, what are you doing?” Sophie asked, “We just figured out your tween girl voice. Stay in character, Sammie. You don’t want to slip up downstairs, do you?”

With an annoyed huff, as well as an adjustment where his vocal cords were concerned, he said, “Yes. I shaved.” The aim was still to answer as flatly as possible despite how ridiculous he sounded.

“Everywhere?” she clarified.

He hesitated, which was telling enough. Sam’s hand was currently covering his crotch, in case Sophie decided to yank the curtain aside for the sake of embarrassing him; though he couldn’t see his smooth crotch, he could slightly feel the recently shaved area against his palm.

Sophie laughed again. “Perfect! Okay, I’m going to leave you a clean pair of panties; you can wear the same training bra. Put those on and come to my room. I need to do your hair and make-up again, then you get to try on your very first dress. Well, second dress. But I bet you’ll like this one more!”

Read more of “The Flower Boy” (15+ chapters) and other exclusive stories on my SubscribeStar!