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A fucking cane. I’d had many new experiences that day, but that was one I was not looking forward to.Its length brushed my still reddened flesh ever...so slightly it almost tickled. I had only read about this instrument, but I was aware of its reputation. It's gentle caress was too much for me to bear, an omen of the fire that was soon to ensue. I was trembling with anticipation, realizing the suspense was actually making me want to feel the cane’s crack, and hating myself for it. I knew I was. To be pretty.Sitting up, he slid his feet off the bed, stood, smoothed his dress, andwalked over to the big mirror in his bedroom. He stood there looking athimself, excited and disappointed. He still looked like a man. Therehadn't been any change. Miss Sarah had promised him that he would startchanging soon, turning into a girl, but nothing yet. He stomped his footimpatiently. He was wearing a pink dress over a white blouse with a PeterPan Collar. His wrists were festooned with bracelets, and. More

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