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From: "Night Hawk" <nighthawk2000@sympatico.ca>
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Subject: {ASSM} Once More With Feelings - Chapter07 {Night Hawk} (ff rom SciFi)
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Date: Mon, 23 Feb 2004 04:14:03 -0500
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I realize that many of you grab a copy of this story from a
newsgroup and read it in plain text format.
However, if you have the time, follow one of the links below
and do us both a favor...

Read this chapter as it was written!
Either on line as HTML or download it.
Available in both PDF and DOC files at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Night_Hawk/www/
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Night_Hawk
or look for "The Night Hawk" at http://storiesonline.net/

"Once More With Feelings"
=========================


A new story by Night Hawk
(C) 2004 by (the) Night Hawk

Chapter 7: Patti Goes to School
_______________________________


"Holy Shit, Pete!"  Cathy had said.  "Don't tell me you're going
to become a nun!"

She was partially right in her concern. Many of the girls who went
to St. Ursula's did so because they felt God had called them.
Though why God would want a woman to go through life without
experiencing the delight of an orgasm or getting 'prettied up' was
totally beyond me.

Thankfully, I was practically forced into bed Wednesday after the
ride home from the hospital.  Ann really fussed over me and I
guessed she wanted to get in as much mothering as she could before
I left for school on Sunday.

I know, it's a stupid day to start at a new school, but I had to
get boarded there first which meant I'd have to spend Sunday night.
As it was, I'd be starting two weeks late, but the advantage was
that since I was going to a different school than the one this body
had been destined for, I could pick and choose most of my own
subjects.

Nine periods a day, one set aside for lunch, for 8 subjects per
semester, or more commonly the girls did 7 and took a spare. I
needed 70 half credits to qualify for university, so why waste a
period when I was going to be up at night with little else to do
but study?

Dad had picked up the class schedule and the curriculum for the
grade nine students and aside from mandatory classes like religion
(six half credits required), English studies (eight half credits
required), math for an additional eight over the expected five year
program, the rest were options with only one or two full credits
required for graduation.

Religion was the first class of every day, and for the remaining
seven classes I picked English Lit., English Comp., and another
English option in public speaking.  I took geometry and algebra for
two other classes and decided on history and geology to round out
my first semester.  Of course, the history would seem like really
ancient history to me and I would have to learn to keep my mouth
shut about things that hadn't been discovered yet.

Cathy was sitting on the end of my bed crying about how this would
kill our friendship because Father Roberto (personally I think she
had a crush on him) had made it that she and I would only be able
to go out shopping and stuff like that in the two weeks between
semesters. I liked Cathy well enough for the short time I had known
her, and especially liked the way she looked, but knew deep down it
was just because she was the type of girl I used to fantasize about
when I went to High School the first time.

I was starting to realize I had ambitions for the future.  I
wanted to have a better life than the disaster that was Patti's,
and certainly better than what had been my own miserable existence.
I wanted to make friends with people who had dreams and ambitions.
Being a housewife and a mother, though being a noble life choice,
just didn't appeal to me for a lifetime commitment.  I had wasted
my first life; I sure as hell wasn't going to waste this one!

Cathy had left promising to write every day, but I knew she
wouldn't.  I figured she might think of me as holidays came and
went but she had her eyes on boys. Soon, I would be but a fond
memory of her youth.

~~~~~ // ~~~~~

Mike and Ann did all they could to make my last days of freedom
pleasant, but the house was a strange environment to me. Nothing
Einstein had told me had prepared me for this and for the most
part, I just sat in bed reading or in the living room watching TV.

And trying on clothes!  That was a bitch.  As a man, I had
mastered the art of undoing a bra in seconds flat with only one
hand. It hadn't mattered whether they were front closures or back
closures.  I could get them undone.

Doing them back up, well I never worried about that, and now I was
going to pay the price.  I don't know who designed the damn things,
but they had to have been sadists.  I tried slipping it on like a
vest, the one that had the front closure.  That didn't work and I
was getting a kink in my neck trying to do up the clasp, which
strangely enough, I couldn't see.  When I tried on the one that
closed at the back, I thought I would go nuts!  Stupid little hooks
never lined up with the right catch and doing it behind my back not
able to see what I was doing was totally frustrating.  I didn't
want to ask Mom how to do it; I figured it would only make her
worry.  Finally, I settled on doing it up around my waist where I
could see the hooks and then spinning it around and sliding my arms
through the holes and lifting it up.  It was a good thing that I
didn't have big boobs or I would never have gotten it up and over.

After nearly a day of experimentation, I discovered that once I
had it spun around, it was easier to leave it down and slide my
arms through and then slide the whole thing up.  Then came the
blouses and slacks.

At the hospital, I had worn t-shirts and not bothered with a bra,
and the shorts had an elastic waist.  Not even zippers to mess
with.  But now, I had to dress like a lady.

The first thing I discovered was that the buttons were all on the
wrong side.  This just proved to be awkward and I felt like a
klutz.  The slacks were a lot easier although a bit harder getting
up over my hips.  They also had zippers on the right hand side.
Weird.

Dresses turned out to be my favorites as I could just raise my
arms and they would fall down around me.  It only took a few
minutes to figure out how to do up the zipper at the back.  Skirts
weren't too bad either.

I had a full-length mirror in my bedroom and I spent quite a bit
of time admiring myself.  Okay, I wasn't exactly sexy, especially
given the lack of bust, but I really did look pretty.  I
experimented with makeup, taking it easy, and kept working my hair
every night: 100 strokes as Linda had taught me.  It was starting
to take to the new way I brushed it and the part had all but
disappeared.  Mom was so happy to see me looking happy and healthy
she even bought me a bottle of nail polish. Now that was fun!

My hands were steady enough to apply the light pink tone she had
bought for me, but I started to appreciate what women go through.
First, I had to file my nails.  I would have preferred to cut them
short, but settled for something just a bit longer.  I had to
quickly become ambidextrous.  To pass the time and just for the fun
of it, I painted my toenails as well.  That was easier than doing
the fingernails on my right hand!

I discovered that I had a drawer full of pantyhose, but I so
disliked wearing them that I just left them there. They were a
struggle to get in and out of and I couldn't find one single reason
to wear them when I had such beautiful legs. That was one of the
advantages to being 5 foot 10.  I had long legs that curved at the
last minute to give me a nice tight butt.

~~~~~ // ~~~~~

Ann tried to make all of 'my' favorite dishes for me in the few
days, but as much as I smiled and oohhed and ahhed over them, and
they were tasty, they were not my favorites!

On Sunday, we, as a family, attended church together for the final
time.  St. John's would no longer be my church as regular services
were held at St. Ursula's. I was thinking at least I wouldn't have
to see Father 'Bob' again until I wanted to see him on my terms,
but like I said, God has a wicked sense of humor.

After a long drawn out sermon, Father 'Bob' met us at the door as
we shuffled out with the rest of the flock.

"And is Patricia feeling better now?" he asked. I could swear I
heard the sneer in his voice.

"She's still vague on a lot of personal memories," Mom said, "but
the doctor said her mind was very organized and she showed
exceptional abilities.  I just wish she didn't have to go away."

The prick had the audacity to put his arm around Ann giving her a
friendly hug.  "It's all for the best, Ann," he said.  "Medical
practitioners might say she is fine in body and mind, but we have
to consider the soul, which is the most important."  He turned to
look at me and said for the benefit of my parents that he was a
regular rotation priest at St. Ursula's and he would check up on me
frequently.  I wanted to backhand that self-righteous smirk off his
face, but held myself in check.  My day would come.

We went to the "Ponderosa" for a steak lunch. Ann didn't eat much
and I thought she would break into tears any minute.  I pulled her
to me and hugged her.  "Don't worry, Mom," I said.  "We can visit
on the weekends and it's only nine weeks before I get my first
vacation and I'll be home again."

Mike was wrestling with his own demons. I could tell he thought
this might be a mistake, and that I should stay in familiar
surroundings to help recover my memory, but instead had bowed to
the wishes of his wife and their priest. I couldn't convince him
that I really thought this was a good idea.  Instead, I promised
him that I would make him the proudest father in the entire city.

"You just watch and see, Dad," I said. "This city hasn't seen yet
what a Johnson can do with good genes and determination.  You two
supplied me with the brains and the drive to really succeed in
life, and you had better wear seatbelts, 'cause when this Johnson
starts to cut loose, the world is going to change."

It probably sounded strange coming out of the mouth of a tall,
gangly 14-year-old girl who couldn't remember the names of her
favorite Teddy Bears, but I was determined.

Ann and I had packed my bag before we left for church and after
lunch we drove right to the school.  There really hadn't been much
to pack since the school had a very strict dress code over and
above the uniforms.  No jeans of any kind, no halters or tank tops,
and no slogan t-shirts - no band names or cute sayings.  Mike had
arranged for the full uniforms I would have to wear; they would be
waiting for me at the school.  All I had in my small suitcase was
underwear, the bras I didn't need and probably wouldn't wear unless
absolutely necessary, my toothbrush and toothpaste and a razor and
shaving cream.  I did pack a few loose t-shirts and slacks and
shorts, and I had slipped in both bottles of the hospital hand
lotion and the brush and small makeup kit Linda and Julie had given
me.

I was turned over to a young nun and after a tearful goodbye, Mike
and Ann left.

I didn't really catch the nun's name but I knew that just calling
her "Sister" would suffice anyway.  I tried to listen to the rules
but knew that it wouldn't matter if I heard them or not.  They were
all about behavior and what wasn't allowed.  Very typically
Catholic - no smoking, no drinking, no boys. I wasn't worried.  I
had no plans on smoking, wasn't allowed to go out anyway, so the
risks with boys was nonexistent, not that I could bring myself to
even thinking about kissing boys anyway!

~~~~~ // ~~~~~

The main dorm rooms held ten beds each. Not the most comfortable
beds from the looks of things, but at least in good shape.  The
bedding was straight institutional as were the small dresser and
wardrobe beside each bed.  The furniture was arranged so as to
provide a little bit of privacy, turned sideways facing the bed.
As I was escorted to the bed that would be mine, I noticed pictures
and postcards taped and pinned to the back of the furniture of the
next person. I could have done worse.

The nun was telling me that things posted on or in my furniture or
that of the person next to me was allowed as long as it was in good
taste.  Anything deemed inappropriate would be confiscated while I
was in class and a note would be placed in my personal record.  Too
many demerit points and I would have privileges taken away from me.

Ha!  That was rich.  What could they take away? My right to watch
insipid TV programs? My library pass?  Oh well, I had no intention
of doing anything deemed inappropriate or immoral.  At least that's
what I thought at the time.

My bed was at the end of the room, next to the bathroom that
served all the girls in this room.  That's what you get for being
the last kid on the bus. My new school uniforms were lying on the
bed, including my personal nemesis, horrible dark blue pantyhose
required for formal occasions, such as Sunday Mass.

I opened my wardrobe to hang the uniforms then unpacked my meager
belongings.  When the nun asked me about the hand lotion I easily
fibbed and said I suffered from dry skin, and this was what they
had given me at the hospital to help ease the itch.  I was glad to
see she accepted that without a fuss because I knew that I had an
itch that would have to be tended to regularly.

I checked out the bathroom. It had two toilet stalls and a large
vanity with two sinks.  There was also a large shower stall with a
frosted glass door.

Back in the main room I found a community study desk, actually
more like a picnic table for six, except there were backs on the
chairs.  The nun explained that most of the girls did their
homework during their spare period or in the library. Then she ran
down the times for supper, 7:00, breakfast, also at 7:00 and lunch
at noon.  Wake up was at 6:00 and lights out at 9:00 except for
Fridays and Saturdays.  Friday nights we were allowed to stay up
till 10:00 and could sleep in on Saturdays up till 9:00 if we
didn't mind missing breakfast. Confessions were heard every
Saturday, mandatory, and church attendance for Sunday services was
also mandatory.  Visitors were allowed after 2:00 and up till 6:00
on the weekends but no boyfriends.

There was nothing in the rules I couldn't live with, but I could
see that Einstein would have had a hard time with the transition
from home life to dorm life.

Finally, the nun called out for Wendy. As she explained, Wendy was
to be my guide until I found my bearings.

Wendy was a shy girl according to the Sister, but she not only
shared the dorm room I was in, but was also in my homeroom and many
of my classes as well.

To be continued.
__________________________

Read this story the way it was originally written.
Available in PDF and DOC files at:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Night_Hawk/www/
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Night_Hawk
Or look for "The Night Hawk" at http://storiesonline.net/

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-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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