There, looking back at me, was thequintessential image of a bubble-gum pop-culture preteen princess girlie-girl. Only it wasn't a girl's reflection, i...t was my own! I couldn'tbelieve that my best friend Zoe had been able to so easily make me appearto be a girl. I blinked, first as an involuntary muscle reaction to someirritant to my eyes. Following that brief interruption to the still imageof the youthful Lolita-like face adorned with pink lipstick andcomplimenting near-pink eye shadow and blush. In any case he had not got the equipment.So, he thought to himself, it would have to be a spanking but then again he did not want to hurt, let alone mark, that beautiful bottom. OK, he could make a big thing of it and then only lightly spank her but then the thought of hitting her even gently with his hand went against the grain.On Monday evening, having fretted on and off all day, he had a flash of inspiration. His father had been in the Merchant Navy and had brought home all sorts of things. You might be an escaped convict." That brought an awkward chuckle, "Or an axe murderer."A laugh, this time, before she said, "I need the toilet. When I come back I'll tell you what I can." And she shuffled away to the door marked, 'Ladies'.Time ticked by, and I was beginning to wonder if she had made a getaway, when she appeared across the room, and I was transfixed by the change in her. With her dark hair combed out and lightly curled outwards at the shoulder, she would have looked highly. I need to educate them. I need to teach them to be dominating, strong young men who seize their education.“Dad is totally going to divorce you,” muttered Courtney.I was a teacher. It was a nobler calling than being a wife. A mother. It was the most important thing in the world a woman could do. I had to be utterly devoted to my students. I stripped naked with pride, letting my boys see my large, lush breasts and the trimmed, brown bush adorning my pussy, I knew the truth. Why I was here. This.