The following morning, Marty awoke with a gnawing sickness in the pit of his stomach. He knew what today held and he was scared to death.

"Marty? Are you up? You need to get a shower. Hurry up," His mom yelled from the hallway.

Heading back to her room to get dressed, Amanda called her job to let them know she wouldn't be in today.

Marty was going to skip school and she was going to accompany him to the police station to file a report.

Marty hesitantly got out of bed and headed to the bathroom with his mom's words echoing in his head.

You're right. Having you come forward as Saturday's victim would be a disaster for you. I could never expect you to put yourself through that. Besides, it wasn't Marty he attacked, it was Martina.

When Marty finished showering he headed down the hall, wrapped up in a towel. He was so nervous about today he was shaking. He didn't know what made it worse: the trip to the police station to file his statement or the fact that he was about to dress up as a girl, in front of his mom, to go do it.

"Come in here," his mom called out from her bedroom.

Marty stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath. He exhaled and slowly turned towards his mom's room, dreading what he knew was about to happen.

"I'm in the closet, honey," she announced as he entered.

Marty stepped into her large walk-in closet and found his mom holding up a sleeveless, high-neck, mid-length, white dress with a colorful, embroidered hem.

"What about this one," she asked.

Marty's cheeks turned beet red.

He couldn't believe he was actually picking out a dress to wear, with his mom. It felt more like a reoccurring dream he'd had, than reality. He bit his tongue just to be sure.

Feeling the sting of the bite on his tongue, he knew this was no dream. Contrary to the excitement he had felt in his dream, he became even more nervous, as embarrassment swept over him.

Seeing the look on Marty's face, Amanda commented, "If you don't like this one, what do you have in mind? You've been in my closet before. Did you see something else you'd prefer to wear to the police department, when you were in here?"

"Mom, it's not that big of a deal. That one is fine, whatever," Marty quickly replied, trying to downplay the awkwardness of the situation. It was difficult enough without her knowing just how much he had enjoyed wearing a dress.

"Good. I was hoping you'd pick this one,"his mom replied as she walked past him, heading out of the closet. "I've got a cute pair of sandals that'll match really well with the rainbow of colors on the hem of this dress. Did you put on the underwear I left for you in the bathroom?"

"Yes, ma'am. Well, the panties, but not the bra yet," he awkwardly answered at a low volume while gazing at the floor. "D-do you want m-me to do the same thing I did Saturday to, um, to fill the . . . the cups?"

"Yeah, . . .well, if it looks realistic and isn't too big for your age and size. What did you do?"

"Used two of your green heirloom tomatoes."

Amanda couldn't believe her son's creativity and resourcefulness.

"Really? That worked? And it looked right?"

Amanda had seen every episode of that drag competition show on television and had heard a lot about how the contestants stuffed their bras when they were just starting out, but this was one she hadn't heard of.

"Yup, I tried washcloths, but the weight of the tomatoes hang and move more realistically."

"This I gotta see," Amanda gushed with a curious grin.

Marty left to go put the bra on and get two tomatoes. Once he returned to his mom's room with the a tomato in each cup, he timidly removed his towel.

His mom gasped.

"Well, they do look realistic. Jump up and down for me," Amanda instructed him.

"Oh my stars, they move realistically too. Wow, I'm, I'm . . . I'm at a loss for words . . . Get your dress, I mean, my, er-that, get that dress on and wrap the towel around your shoulders so I can do your makeup."

After slipping the dress over his head and positioning the towel, Marty sat down in front of his mom's vanity.

"Why the towel," he asked, genuinely curious and wanting to learn everything he could.

"To keep from getting makeup on your white dress." His mom answered him while clipping the ends of the towel together behind his neck, with a hair clip.

"Oh, I'd never have thought of that."

Makes sense, he noted silently.

Amanda still couldn't believe her son was sitting in front of her in a dress, with very realistic-looking boobs, and she was about to put makeup on him. This isn't something she would have ever in a million years imagined happening, and it just didn't feel right, but she was trying to be supportive.

Even stranger to her was the fact that Marty had come up with the idea on his own, went out as a girl, and enjoyed it, even after being attacked.

Once she was done with his makeup, Marty was unrecognizable, even to himself and he had seen himself in makeup before.

He was amazed at what his mom had done to transform him back into an even more attractive version of Martina. At that moment, he realized he really didn't know anything about makeup like he thought he did.

After his face was finished, she began to do his hair. Marty had done what little he could and been able to pass as a girl, but what his mom did to his hair was nothing short of magical.

Marty actually found himself very attracted to the girl in the mirror.

"Mom," Marty began when she was done with his hair.

"Yeah?"

"Looking at myself in the mirror makes me feel uncomfortable. I look like one of those girls at school, the ones all the boys find attractive, but that no one other than the popular boys would ever have a chance with. I think you might have gone too far."

"Yes, this is more makeup than a girl your age should normally wear, unless it's a special occasion, like a ball or something, but this might be my only chance to see what you would have looked like if you had been born a girl, like the doctor originally told me when I was pregnant. Sorry, I went all out. Look at it this way, no one will ever recognize you now. "

"You're right about that mom, even I don't recognize me."

"Here, try these shoes on," Amanda instructed, handing Marty a pair of leather sandals with a multitude of different brightly colored straps.

He slipped his foot into the first sandal and then tried to figure out the straps. His mom ended up having to show him the straps were supposed to be wrapped in a criss-cross pattern, around his ankle and up his calf several times, and then tied.

While fastening the second one himself, he realized something his mom had just said was incorrect.

"Mom, you know, if I go through with this, I'll have to appear in court to testify. I can't do that as Marty, so I'll have to do this again. Who knows how many days the trial will go on."

He saw a sheepish grin spread across his mom's face.

"Wait a minute," he exclaimed. "You knew that before you even started putting this much makeup on me."

"Maybe, but do you hate it? I don't think you do. And besides, the more I worked on your face, the more you relaxed. With what you're about to do, you need to be able to relax."

She paused, then continued, "Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this? They're going to make you re-live every painful moment and ask you a lot of questions."

"Yeah mom, I have to. If I don't help put him behind bars, more girls will get attacked and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened."

"I proud of you for having the courage to face this in order to see that he gets locked away. You're really special, Mart---ina."

Amanda straightened the neck of her son's dress, hiding an exposed bra strap.

"So, are you ready to go, Martina?"

Marty hesitated and his heart skipped a beat. He was more nervous than he had ever been in his life. So much so, he was shaking again. But he was also excited too. And hopeful, hopeful that this would be only the first of countless other times he would get to go out with his mom, as a girl.

"Yeah, I'm ready . . . Hey, mom? Do you think we can go somewhere for lunch afterward? I think I'd like to talk about your "niece," Martina coming to visit again maybe for Halloween and the entire two week Christmas break?"

Marty continued to talk as they headed out the door," How would you feel if Martina moved in at the end of the school year and Marty went away for good?"

"Slow down son---er, sweetheart. Let get through today first. This is a lot to take in. Baby steps. You may have thought about this a lot, but it's all brand new to me, a lot to absorb. I don't even know how I feel about it yet."

"Can we at least talk about it?"

"Yeah, we have a lot to talk about before you go deciding to make this permanent. I tell you what, how about I let you do this again next Saturday and we can go shopping for three or four outfits for you to keep in your closet to wear when we have to go to court. That'll give me another chance to get to know Martina and see how I feel about it."

Amanda started the car and began to back out into the street, as Marty immersed himself in the role.

"Auntie Amanda, thank you for being understanding and open to having me in your home."

"I love you so much, Marty- uh, Martina."