by Karen Elizabeth L.
My friend Pete and I were living the good life as a couple of bachelors; we had a string of different girls that we dated but we never got serious about any of them. All a girl had to do was to mention marriage and she'd never hear from us again. It was strictly "Love 'em and Leave 'em" with us.
Our parents were constantly harping at us, "You're twenty three, when are you going to settle down?" they'd ask at every opportunity. If they went to a wedding, it was especially bad for us for weeks afterwards.
"Joey got married, why can't you?" or "Diane and Paul are tying the knot, what's your problem"
One day I'd about enough of my parents and told them I'd settle down when Hell froze over
Mom broke into tears while Pete and I stood there and laughed at her. We grabbed a couple of beers and headed over to Pete's house.
His sister Meghan was home and started on us as soon as we walked in.
"Look at what we have here, if it isn't the loser twins!" She called out.
"Stuff it Meghan," I sneered. "Why don't you do something useful and get us some snacks while we watch the game."
"I know you aren't talking to me," She laughed. "I'm not one of those stupid sluts you fool around with."
"You're not smart enough to be a stupid slut!" I howled as Pete and I broke up laughing.
"What's your grade point average?" Meghan smiled. "Oh, that's right, you two brilliant minds couldn't even hack community college's remedial courses."
"We don't need no college," Pete told her. "We manage okay on our own."
"Sure you do," Meghan nodded in agreement. "Let's see how well you do, okay?"
"Pete, you're a mail clerk, right? That's something to brag about when your class reunion rolls around. Lou, you're laid off for the third time in two years. You couldn't even keep that job at the Seven-Eleven; not after they caught you jacking off in the back room one night."
"Shove it Meghan!" I shouted. "The manager was just jealous because I've got a bigger schwantz than he did!"
"Bigger Shwantz?" She laughed. "I've talked to a couple of the girls you've bedded; they said they had to finish the job after you fell asleep."
"That's a problem I've never had to worry about!" Pete bragged.
"That's only because you've never actually been to bed with a woman." Meghan's words froze Pete where he stood.
"That's bull and you know it!" Pete shouted angrily.
"Call any girl you've ever slept with," his sister challenged. "I'll give you a hundred bucks for each one that doesn't laugh at you."
"Go ahead man," I urged. " Show this stupid broad up once and for all."
Meghan had a cruel smile as she held out the phone.
Pete turned and walked away, muttering that he didn't have to prove anything.
"You're a bitch!" I spat at Meghan. "Your brother and I have turned down better women than you."
I handed Pete a couple of beers. "Screw her, let's watch the game."
Pete was down in the dumps after our little dust up with his sister. I tried cheering him up but nothing I did would work. Maybe Meghan had been right about him but that didn't make what she did right. I was determined to pay her back.
I figured the best way to hurt Meghan was by going after her friends so with Pete's help; we began telling everyone who would listen about how we'd had our way with nearly every one of her friends. By the time we were done, her friends were looking like the biggest collection of sluts outside of the Mustang Ranch. It took a couple of weeks but Meghan finally insisted that we stop.
"I thought none of your friends would bother with losers like us?" Pete smirked and grabbed at his crotch. "It looks to me like your friends can't get enough of what we have to offer."
"Damn straight," I laughed. "We took them from pathetic excuses for women and made real women out of them."
"You're both nuts; you know very well that you've never been near any of my friends."
"Maybe," I taunted. "But if you repeat something often enough, someone will believe it. In this case, every guy in town will figure your friends are sluts. Every time a guy asks them out, he'll be thinking that he's going to get lucky."
"I'm warning you two, stop it now!" She screamed. "Stop it or so help me god, you'll regret it."
"We'll stop on one condition," Pete countered. "You have to tell all of your friends that we're the greatest studs ever to walk the earth; that we really are gods gift to women."
"You'd better be convincing too," I laughed. "We expect to bed at least five or six of your friends."
"Get out!" She screamed, her face turning dark red. "You're going to pay for this, you're going to regret pissing me off!"
I blew her a kiss before we left.
A couple of weeks later Pete and I were at a bar having a few beers when I noticed something odd. As Pete went to sit, he ran his hand along his butt.
"What are you doing?" I asked. "You got a problem with Hemorrhoids?
He looked at me strangely. "What makes you think I got roids?"
"I don't know, you made some sort of motion with your hand, I thought you had a problem."
"Maybe you're drinking too much," he suggested. "You're starting to see things."
"No, maybe I just need another beer," I laughed. "You can never drink too much."
I was pretty peeved that none of Meghan's friends had agreed to have their bones jumped; hadn't she told them their reputations were at stake? I mean when a couple of straight up studs like Pete and me started to talk about how we'd screwed some babe, everyone would pay attention. And we didn't stop at just screwing the chick; no, we gave, excuse the pun, blow-by-blow accounts of what she did for us! Yeah, every thing you could imagine some slut doing for twenty bucks is what we told people that Meghan's friends did for us.
We started to tell everyone we met this crap but for some reason we had problems bringing it up in conversations. I mean, we'd run into a couple of dudes in a bar and on course, the conversation would turn to women.
"Getting' any?" One guy would ask.
I'd be all set to tell him how Jenny, Meghan's best friend, had done a Hoover on Mr. Happy but when I opened my mouth, all I could say was that I considered his question rude and offensive. His face screwed into a puzzled expression before he turned and walked away, shaking his head.
"What did you say that for?" Pete hissed. "Why didn't you tell him about Jenny, like we agreed?"
"Beats the hell out of me," I shrugged. "I was all set to tell him that Jenny could suck a softball through a garden hose but the other thing just popped out instead."
"We'd better find another place to drink," Pete suggested. "The guys at the bar are looking at us kind a funny like."
I looked toward the bar and saw guys motioning towards us and laughing. We'd never be able to drink here again; we'd just have to find a new place to loaf.
"How about Alfie's over on Thirtieth Street?" I suggested with a smile. "That seems like a very nice place."
"Christ, what the hell's gotten into you?" Pete asked, shaking his head as we walked out. "Alfie's is a gay bar you jerk. You know that; why would you even suggest it?"
"I don't have any idea!" I told him, trying to imagine what would make me suggest a gay bar as our new drinking hole. "I don't know what the hell I'm saying today."
"Don't worry Lou," Pete smiled and touched my arm. "We'll think of something."
I pulled my arm loose. "I don't know why I suggested that fruit stand but if you ever touch me again, I'll kill you!"
Pete looked at his outstretched hand in horror. "If I ever do that again, I'll kill myself."
We managed to get home without any further problems but I had a difficult time getting to sleep; wondering what was going wrong. When I did finally fall asleep, I dreamed that Pete and I were drinking in Alfie's when two very gay guys approached us.
"Would you care to dance?" One of them asked as he held his hand out to me.
"I'd love to," I smiled and accepted his hand. He led me to the dance floor and then held me tight as we danced.
"I'm Barry," He smiled and pulled me close, rubbing my butt with his hand.
"Hi Barry," I said in a soft voice. "My name's Lou but all my friends call me Lindsay."
"Lindsay," My new friend rolled the name around on his tongue. "That's such a pretty name, just like that actress."
I giggled and moved closer to Barry, feeling a bulge pressing against me.
"She's two years younger than me but she's still my idol. I'm going to let my hair grow nice and long, and then have it dyed red, just like hers."
"I think you'd look very pretty with long, red hair," he said as he nuzzled my neck. "I like pretty boys like you."
I reached down and felt his throbbing crotch. "I like big, strong men like you."
As I started to pull down his zipper, I woke up to find my hand caressing a nice hard on. As I remembered the dream, I ran into the bathroom and puked.
"I'm going to kill Pete!" I thought as I brushed my teeth. "He made me have that dream. I'd never think anything like that if that fag hadn't touched me this afternoon."
No, I was all man. I knew it, women knew it, and why the hell am I sticking this toothbrush in and out of my mouth when I should be brushing my teeth with it? I tried to put it back in the toothbrush holder but I was overcome with a desire to lick it from the bottom of the handle to the end of the bristles.
"Oh yeah baby," I moaned as I licked. "I just love nice big fat "
I threw the toothbrush in the sink and backed away so fast that I almost fell over! Rushing back to bed, I pulled the covers over my head and prayed that I wouldn't dream of Barry again.
Pete had to work that day and I wasn't in the mood to go out so I propped my feet up on the coffee table with a bowl of cereal to watch some TV. Mom walked into the room but froze when she saw me sitting there.
"Good morning mother," I said cheerfully while patting the couch next to me. "Sit down and let's catch up on the soaps!"
She looked at me as if she was trying to decide if it was safe or not. I guess safe won since she finally sat next to me.
"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?" I asked, referring to an actor on the show. "He's telling her how much he loves her when he's secretly seeing her sister."
"He does that to every woman," Mom explained. "He'll tell them anything to get them into bed."
"I hate men like that!" I declared, nearly causing mom to choke.
"It's only a TV show honey," Mom told me. "You don't have to watch it."
"I know," I grinned. "But the guys are so sexy and I'd kill to have outfits like the ones the women wear."
I realized what I was saying and ran from the room. I locked my self in my room and refused to come out despite my mother's pleadings.
When Pete finally got done work, I rushed over to his place to talk to him about my horrid day. I was shocked when I found him in the living room with Meghan, wearing one of her dresses.
"Hi Lindsay," Meghan smiled as I walked in. "Misty is helping me pin the hem on a dress I just bought, isn't it pretty?"
For a passing second, it seemed odd that she knew the name I had used in my dream. I started to ask how she knew but ended up telling him that the dress was very pretty and would look great on him.
"It's a dream to wear," Misty, I mean Pete, smiled. "It's so lightweight and it's even machine washable."
"Where did you find it?" I asked, not sure why I wanted to know, it just seemed important.
"Would you believe I found it at Penney's?" Meghan asked. "Karl Ladott finally asked me out and I needed just the perfect dress."
"Karl, the guy you've had a crush on since ninth grade?" I squealed and rushed to hug her. "He's so cute!"
Meghan was smiling and I suddenly had the feeling that something was very wrong. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and said I had to scoot on home.
I locked myself in my room again, trying to sort out what had happened to me. Did I really tell mom that the guys on the soap opera were sexy and that I wanted outfits like the women wore? Was it really me who saw Pete helping Meghan pin up a dress without chewing him out? Did I really tell Meghan the dress was pretty and congratulate her on getting a date with Karl?
Of course, I didn't chew Misty out; it was very sweet of her to help her sister. After all, how could Meghan pin the hem of a dress while she was wearing it? And what was wrong with telling mom about the hunks on the soap or the great looking outfits the women got to wear? If a girl can't confide in her mom, who can she confide in?
What am I thinking? Meghan has a brother named Pete, not a sister named Misty; I'm a guy and shouldn't think that guys on soap operas or anywhere else are sexy and certainly shouldn't want to wear women's clothes. I had to figure out what was going wrong in my brain; what was causing Misty, I mean Pete and me, to crack up. There had to be a simple explanation, I thought as I finished shaving my legs.
I nearly had a heart attack when I realized that I had just shaved my legs. This just can't be happening to me; I'm living some kind of weird episode of the Twilight Zone. I mean come on, guys don't shave their legs, they don't help their sisters pin up dresses, they don't do any of the things Misty and I have been doing lately.
Then again, Lindsay is such a pretty name and I'll bet that I'd look so cute with long, red hair. I wondered if my legs are as pretty as hers are as I spread some of mom's baby oil on them. I didn't want them to get all dry and scaly; they'd look horrible and then I couldn't wear any of the pretty skirts I had planned to buy.
This is not happening, I didn't shave my legs, I'm not coating them with baby oil, and I don't really want to look like Lindsay Lohan! I 'm just an everyday sort of girl, I mean guy. No, that's silly; I'm a girl named Lindsay. Hell, I'm not sure who or what I am!
I quickly pulled on a pair of briefs. God, I have to get some decent lingerie; this tomboy crap is not for me! I shook my head as hard as I could to rid the crazy thoughts rattling around in my brain and jumped into bed.
I felt much better when I woke the next morning; I dressed in my usual jeans, jersey, and baseball cap and went to see what I could do for breakfast. My parents were already up and having their breakfast when I walked into the kitchen.
"Good morning mother, good morning daddy," I smiled and gave mom a kiss on the cheek before I threw my arms around my dad and kissed him too. "Isn't it a beautiful morning?"
Mom smiled and agreed with me but dad was staring at me very strangely.
"What's gotten into you?" Dad asked.
"Forget it dear," Mom told him. "Let's just enjoy it while we can."
Just as suddenly as the feeling came over me it was gone.
"Enjoy what?" I asked as I grabbed for the sausages. "What's your problem old man? Quit staring at me!"
"I knew it was too good to be true," dad said gruffly. "Imagine him being pleasant for a change."
I didn't need to listen to dad carrying on so I shoved a few sausages in my mouth, grabbed a slice of bread, and headed for Pete's.
"Yo dude, wazzzup?" Pete called as I walked in. "What's on for today?"
"Dunno," I answered. "We can check out the babes at the mall for awhile, maybe we'll think of something there."
We were sitting at the mall enjoying the sights when Pete asked if I'd had any weird dreams lately.
"Yeah, I did," I laughed as I told him that I dreamed he was helping Meghan fix a dress.
"That's spooky," He shuddered. "I had the same dream. You were in it too. You and Meghan kept calling me Misty and she called you Lindsay."
"Did she mention a date?"
I didn't like the way he was looking at me.
"With Karl, the guy she has a crush on?"
That was as far as either of us was willing to explore that dream; things were just too weird!
"Nice piece over there," Pete nodded towards a girl at a counter in the food court.
I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, she shouldn't wear those low rise jeans with that top; she's got such a roll of fat!"
Pete whipped around and gave me a withering look. "What the hell's with you, that's one fine piece of ass?"
"Can't you look at a woman without being such a pig?" I asked, offended that he was thinking of that poor girl that way.
"Are you going queer or something? Since when did you become Mr. Blackwell? Are you planning to publish a 'Worst Dressed' list?
"She'd be on it if I did," I shrugged. "I mean, check it our, visible panty line for heaven's sake!"
Pete pushed me so hard I fell off the bench we were sitting on.
"Do that again and I'll break you in half!" I screamed.
"Quit acting like such a fag!" He screamed back.
"Wake up and smell the coffee, you moron. I'm twice the man you could ever hope to be!"
"Not when you're bitching about visible panty lines!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I growled and nodded towards the girl. "I wouldn't mind seeing her panty lines, but only as she was taking them off."
"That's better. Now, let's go check out the babes at the other end of the mall."
We were halfway to babe heaven, the section of the mall where Victoria's Secret and Fredrick's of Hollywood were, when Pete suddenly stopped and stared at a display in a store window.
"I wonder if they have that in my size." He muttered as he stared at a pink dress.
"You dumb ass, you're going to get us killed!" I whispered as I dragged him away from the store.
"What's your problem, I thought we came here to shop?"
"We did. But for babes, not dresses, you pansy!"
"Shop for babes?" Pete seemed confused. "What's gotten into you? Let's go back; that dress was so pretty!"
I dragged him out of the mall; regretting that I chose to be so near to Vickie's Secret and Fredericks.
"Why bother coming to the mall if we can't shop?" Pete asked as we drove off. "The Fall outfits are coming in and there'll be all kinds of great sales on summer stuff."
He was lucky that I needed both hands to steer; otherwise, I think I would've strangled him.
I couldn't believe it, my best friend was turning queer on me. I tossed my keys on the table as I walked in and went straight to my room to think.
At least I meant to go straight to my room. For some reason, on the way to my room, I decided to make a stop in my parent's bedroom before going to my room.
When I got to my room, I closed the door and got completely undressed. I checked and was glad to see that my legs were still smooth and soft from having shaved and moisturized them; the pantyhose I borrowed from mom would feel smooth and silky when I gently pulled them up my legs.
First though, I stepped into the sexy panties I had also borrowed. Pink and nothing but stretch lace, I was amazed that my mother would own such sexy things when I had first seen them in the laundry. They felt so comfy and looked so pretty, I made a mental note to ask mom where she got them so I could pick up a few pairs of my own.
I fastened a silky white bra with lace cups and carefully adjusted it over my chest. I wish I had larger breasts, which would help me get more attention from all those hot looking guys at the mall. Maybe if I'm real nice to mom and daddy, they'll let me get implants.
I arched my right foot and carefully rolled one leg of mom's pantyhose up my leg before I started on the other. They felt so nice and made my legs look so pretty; mom I couldn't wait to finish dressing so I could see how they looked when I wore heels.
I slid a white, satin slip over my head and adjusted the straps to bring it a few inches above my knees. I mean, what's the point in having such sexy legs if I don' bother to show them off. I wasn't going to get stuck with some frumpy, below-the-knees dress; I made sure I picked out mom's sexy Little Black Dress, knowing it would be well above my knees.
I put a couple of socks into the cups of my bra before I slid the dress over my head; what's the point in wearing a sexy LBD if you've got the boobs of a twelve-year-old boy?
I smoothed mom's dress out and tried to zip it but I just couldn't reach the back zipper. Just then, I heard mom and daddy come home so I hurried to meet them and get mom's help with the zipper.
Dad saw me first and blinked several times. "Lou, what the hell are you up to?"
"Please don't call me Lou anymore daddy," I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I've decided to give up being a tomboy; I prefer to be called Lindsay; it's such a pretty name."
He turned to mom and shrugged. "Okay, Lindsay it is. Now, why are you wearing your mother's dress?"
"I told you, I'm not going to be a Tomboy anymore," I explained as I twirled to show off how well the dress fit me. "Since I don't have any pretty outfits of my own, I decided to borrow one of mom's dresses to see how the new me looked!"
"You look lovely dear," Mom told me. "Would you like me to zip you up?"
"I'd appreciate it mother," I gave her a hug. "I think this dress would really look super once I have it zipped up properly. If you don't mind, could you give me a couple of pointers on things like make-up? I've been a tomboy for so long, I missed out on all that stuff."
"I'm sure your mother just can't wait to make a lovely young woman out of you," Dad grinned. "Isn't that right dear?"
"I can hardly wait," Mom smiled as she took my hand. "Let's go to my room Lindsay; I'll teach you all the tricks to looking beautiful. You've got such lovely skin, and great legs, I'm sure you'll drive the boys wild."
My tummy did several flips as I thought about driving boys wild. I hoped it wasn't too late to get them interested after ignoring them for so long.
Mom zipped me up and showed me how to lower the zipper just enough to get a dress over my head. That way, I could reach the zipper all by myself. I gave mom a big hug and kiss for that bit of help.
My next lesson was how to put together several outfits by mixing and matching a few pieces. I can't remember ever having so much fun as when mom and I went through her closet and picked out different skirts, blouses, dresses, and jacket to combine into different looks. She even showed me how to wear a garter belt and stockings before we started on my makeup lessons.
Daddy was so sweet; I modeled all the different outfits for him and he was so generous with his compliments. Of course, I always rewarded him with a kiss and hug after each modeling session.
The rest of the day simply flew by; I helped mom prepare dinner while wearing a pair of her shorts and a top but as soon as dinner was ready, I quickly changed into one of her summer dresses. Daddy told me how pretty I looked and even held my chair for me while I sat down. I don't know why I was so silly acting like a tomboy all those years; being a lady was so much nicer.
That evening mom, daddy, and I all sat together on the sofa to enjoy watching "Herbie, Fully Loaded" with Lindsay Lohan. I loved the color of her hair and begged mom to let me dye mine the same color.
"Isn't that an awfully big step?" Daddy asked. "I mean, going from a boy, I mean a tomboy, to a trip to a beauty shop? Maybe you should wait a little longer to get used to being a young woman."
I thought about what daddy said and it seemed to make such perfect sense. "You're right Daddy, I'll just wait a couple of months until I'm really used to this girly stuff."
When it came time to go to bed, mom came into my room with a beautiful pale green nightgown and matching robe.
"I thought you'd have sweeter dreams if you wore something really feminine," she smiled and handed me the silky gown and robe. I was ecstatic when I saw the matching satin panties that went with the gown.
"Thank you mom," I gushed as I threw my arms around her neck and gave her a kiss. "No more tomboy stuff for me; from now on, I'm going to be a perfect lady, just like you!"
"What about all of your friends, what are they going to think of the new you?" Mom asked. "Does Pete know you've decided to be a lady?"
"Pete? Oh, you mean Misty, "I laughed. " I don't think she'll mind, she was helping Meghan hem a skirt the other day and she seemed to enjoy getting all prettied up."
"It is fun to get all prettied up," Mom admitted. "That's a big advantage girls have over boys."
"I'll bet," I agreed as I pulled on the panties and slid the robe over my head. "I missed out on a lot but I'm going to do my best to make up for it!"
"I'll help as much as I can honey, just as long as you're sure you know what you're doing."
I ran my hands over the silky fabric of the nightgown. "I'm positive."
I had such wonderful dreams that night; shopping at the mall with mom, guys staring at me and smiling, and other guys asking for dates, and of course, buying the prettiest outfits. When we got home, I put on a fashion show for daddy and got oodles of compliments on my outfits and how pretty I looked in them.
The next morning I brushed my teeth, put on the robe and went to have breakfast. I gave each of my wonderful parents a good morning hug and kiss before helping mom prepare and serve the pancakes and sausages.
"You're a great cook Lindsay," Dad teased as he chewed a sausage link. "I could get used to having two women cooking for me."
"They're pre-cooked daddy; all I had to do was warm them."
"Well, you certainly warm a mean sausage!"
"Flattery will get you nowhere daddy dear," I said as I gave him a kiss.
"I don't mind," He told me as he hugged me. "I get kisses from two lovely ladies, what more could any man ask for?"
I was so overwhelmed that I burst into tears. "I love you guys so much!"
After daddy left for work, I helped mom clean up the breakfast dishes. She offered to buy me a wig and my own makeup if I was really serious about being a lady. I promised, cross my heart and hope to die, and even pinky swear, that I was never, ever, ever, going to be a tomboy again.
"I think it's best if you let me do the shopping at first honey," Mom explained. "Your hair makes you look like a boy. I'd hate to have anything think that my wonderful daughter was really a boy."
"Eew, that would be so gross! We'll have to clean out my closet and stuff, someone filled them up with guys clothes."
"Don't worry Lindsay," Mom promised. "I'll get you a few things to start and then you and I can spend time shopping together. Maybe if you ask him nicely, daddy will fix your room up to make it pretty enough for a young lady."
"I'll give him tons of kisses and hugs, he seems to like that," I laughed. "He's such a sweetie pie."
I helped mom get ready to go shopping then settled down to watch the soaps.
"Are you the same guy that called me a fag at the mall?" I heard someone sneer.
I turned around and saw Misty standing there staring at me.
"Hi Misty," I smiled. "What are you talking about and why are you wearing guy's clothes?"
"I'm talking about how you called me a fag for no reason!" He screamed. "My name's Pete, not Misty, and I'm wearing guy's clothes because I'm a guy. I thought you were a guy too but I guess I was wrong. Looks like there's only one fag around here and you're it!"
I was so upset that I started to cry.
"Why are you being so mean?" I sobbed. "I thought we were friends? Didn't we have a lot of fun shopping at the mall?"
"We never shopped you pansy," He laughed. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"Yesterday, we were at the mall and you saw that pink sundress, remember? I wanted you to buy it but you said you'd have to get a tan first."
"I never wanted to buy any dress, pink or otherwise."
"Sure you did, it was in the window at Dress Barn, remember?"
"We never went anywhere near the Dress Barn and I never looked at any dress." He insisted. "Now, are you going to tell me why you're dressed like that?"
"Mom lent me this," I smiled and ran my hands along the robe. "It feels so dreamy."
"But it's a woman's nightgown and robe!"
"Aren't you the observant one," I teased. "Of course it's a nightgown and robe, you don't expect me to sit around in just panties, do you?"
"But you're a guy! Guys don't wear women's stuff, unless they're queer or something."
"I am no more a guy than you are Misty!"
"Why the hell are you calling me Misty and yes, you are a guy!"
I extended a leg and ran my hand along it. "Do guys legs look like this?"
"You shaved your legs!"
"Of course I did, I didn't want them looking all hairy and nasty."
"But you're a "
"Will you get off that silly kick of yours? I may have been a tomboy but that's all over now."
"Yeah, now you're as queer as a three dollar bill!" He laughed.
"If I'm so queer, why did mom lend me this pretty gown and robe? Why did daddy tell me that I'm pretty and a good cook?"
"So you're whole family's nuts," He shrugged. "Watch, I'll prove that you're a guy."
He grabbed the hem of my gown and started to lift it. I reached for his hand to stop him but he suddenly stopped.
He blinked several times and started to rub the gown between his fingers.
"I'm sorry for teasing you Lindsay, this gown is so nice!"
"That's okay Misty, I forgive you."
"Do you think your mom would mind if I tried her nightgown on?" He asked excitedly. "Maybe I could get one just like it!"
"I guess it would be okay," I grinned. "Let's see if I can find something else to wear while you're trying this on."
We laughed and giggled all the way to mom's room where I found a long, black satin nightgown that was slit all the way to the hips. The slit was trimmed with a two-inch wide band of lace and I just knew it would look great with my smooth, sexy, legs. I was out of the gown and panties I was wearing in a flash and into a pair of black lace hip hugger panties and the sexy gown.
"I need bigger boobies," I pouted as Misty dressed. "Do you think my parents would let me get implants?"
"If they do, I'm going to cry and pout until I can get one too!" Misty giggled. "There are so many pretty outfits that are too low cut for padded bras."
We stood there arm in arm, admiring ourselves when mom came back. Like a couple of little girls playing dress-up, we rushed to meet her and show off how sexy we looked.
"You look lovely girls," Mom told us as we posed and strutted. "Misty, has Lindsay told you about how she's going to start dressing more like a young woman?"
"Yes, she has, and I think I should too."
"Maybe you should talk to Meghan," I suggested. "She has great taste in clothes and stuff."
"She's been helping me lately," Misty replied. "It's just so hard to get used to wearing makeup and stuff. It takes so much longer to get ready when Meghan wants me to do the "Girl Thing" as she calls it."
"Does she want you to do the "Girl Thing" often?" Mom asked as she began to unpack the things that she had bought for me.
"Uh huh," Misty shrugged as she preened in the mirror. "She says I'm too old to act like a tomboy so she's making me wear dresses and stuff most of the time. I still sneak out in guy's stuff once in a while though, like this morning."
"Do your parents like it when you do the "Girl thing?" Mom seemed awfully interested in Misty's learning to be more of a lady. Maybe she was hoping for some tips that I could use.
"Mom and dad seemed to think it was a little strange at first, but now they're pretty much used to seeing me in Meghan's old outfits. I wasted so much money buying clothes to make me look like a guy that I'm stuck wearing Meghan's old outfits until I can afford some nice things of my own."
"What were we thinking?" I joked while soaking up the wonderful feelings the nightgown was giving me. "I mean really, why did we want to look like guys, this is so much better."
"My mom and dad put their foot down; I'm not allowed to dress like a guy anymore. I have to start wearing pretty clothes, fixing my hair, and even wearing makeup."
"Do you mind doing all that?" Mom asked as she helped fix the wig she bought for me.
"I did at first," Misty shrugged. "It didn't seem right to wear that stuff; I guess I went too far overboard dressing like a guy. Now though, I kind of like it; it's fun getting all dressed up in something pretty and hearing everyone tell me how nice I look."
"You bet," I added while stepping into a cute denim skirt mom had bought for me. "It makes me feel so special when daddy tells me that I'm pretty. I knew he was joking about my being a good cook, but it felt so nice to hear him say that."
Misty and I spent several hours trying on different outfits and experimenting with the makeup mom had bought for me. Before she left, we made plans to spend the coming Saturday shopping for pretty outfits. With my new wig and her long hair, I was sure we'd pass as girls.
Once again, I helped mom with dinner; this time wearing my new denim skirt and a cute, sleeveless white top. I looked down at my chest and smiled; the padded bra and breast forms mom had given me made me look just like any other woman my age. Further down, my long, sexy legs ended in a pair of flip-flops and my pretty red toenails glistened in the light. I felt so happy.
Daddy was a s generous as always with his praise and this time it meant so much more since I really had made dinner all by myself! Sure, mom helped by peeling a few potatoes and giving me moral support, but I had selected the menu from one of mom's cookbooks and had prepared it all.
Daddy held my chair for me just as he always did for mom and complimented me on how pretty I looked. Something in the back of my brain was telling me that this was all wrong but I couldn't seem to focus on what seemed like very silly thoughts about my really being a guy.
How could I be a guy when I'm wearing panties, a bra, a skirt, top, and look so pretty? I used to be a tomboy; even wearing guy's clothes just like my best friend Misty, but that doesn't mean I'm really a guy. I guess my brain is having trouble adjusting to my becoming a lady after being such a tomboy.
That night after I showered and shaved my legs and underarms, I slipped on the cute little baby-doll style nightgown mom had bought for me. It wasn't anything sexy; I mean how sexy can a yellow nightgown with a teddy bear on the front be? No, like I said, it was really cute! It had matching ruffled panties and it was just so comfortable!
I slept soundly that night but when I went to brush my teeth in the morning I couldn't believe what I saw in the mirror I was wearing a baby-doll nightgown with a teddy bear on it!
What in the hell was I doing, I wondered as I caught sight of the matching panties peeking out from beneath the nightgown! I quickly stripped and hid the nightgown under my mattress to prevent mom or dad from seeing it. I reached for a pair of briefs from my drawer and nearly had a stroke when I pulled out a pair of lace panties!
Someone was trying to mess with my head; there was no doubt about that. Mom or dad could've left the panties in my underwear drawer, but how did they manage to get me into a nightgown without my realizing it? Maybe they slipped me something in my dinner to knock me out. Once I was unconscious, they dressed me up like a fag and carried me off to bed.
I was sure they were downstairs at that very moment, laughing and waiting to see me come to breakfast dressed like some sissy. Well, they were going to be disappointed; I pulled on my briefs, a Tee shirt and jeans.
"Why are you dressed like that?" Mom seemed puzzled. "I thought you decided your tomboy days were over?"
"What the hell are you talking about, you crazy old bat? Girls are tomboys; do I look like a girl to you?"
"Watch your mouth!" Dad ordered. "You were acting so nice over the weekend; what's gotten into you?"
"As if you don't know," I snarled as I grabbed for a plate. "You can try your best, but your little game won't work. I'm way too smart for you two!"
Mom and dad stared at each other while I gobbled down some breakfast.
"No sausages?" I asked after finishing a plate of pancakes.
"I thought you were going to make them," dad said. "You did such a great job the other morning."
"I told you it won't work, so just knock it off!" I wiped my face in a nearby towel and left to do some girl watching at the mall.
It was too bad that Pete had to work; we could've enjoyed some quality time checking out the babes. It didn't matter that much though; without him, there were more for me to hit on so it all worked out for the best anyhow.
A truly beautiful babe with long blonde hair came out of a store and walked past me. She must've been a secretary or something because of the way she as dressed; a lightweight, powder blue print, summer dress with cap sleeves and a handkerchief hem.
She wasn't wearing stockings but a pair of open toed blue sandals, which nicely complimented her dress and her toenails were painted a light pink to match her fingernails. She had a small, Gucci shoulder bag, slung over her arm and a pretty bracelet slid along her wrist.
I almost died when I realized that instead of checking out her body, I was checking out her clothes and even the way she wore her hair- in a easy to care for, shoulder length style, with soft curls at the ends. What was I thinking; other than, I wish I had pretty hair like hers, only auburn, not blonde.
Well, my hair was close to auburn; more strawberry blonde but still it was better than having something ordinary, like brown hair. My hair color was pretty and it did set off the cute freckles across the bridge of my nose and on my cheeks. Lindsay Lohan looked good with auburn hair but with my fair complexion, strawberry blonde was best.
No! I didn't intend to think of how pretty I really did look with my light hair, fair complexion, and freckles; I meant to think that the girl who was sitting across from me really needed to do something with her hair; it was long and stringy with absolutely no body to it!
Crap, what's wrong with me? I wake up in the most adorable little nightgown and matching panties and now I'm wasting time looking at the way other women dress when I could be at the food court, checking out all the studs!
I was hurrying to the food court when I realized what I was doing. I stopped dead in my tracks and shook my head. This was not really happening to me; I'm not some sort of fag who wants to be on his knees giving blowjobs to other guys. Then why was I on my way to stare at other guys the way I should, the way I used to, stare at women?
Obviously, because like the one walking in front of me, guys had nice buns, broad shoulders, and with any luck at all, were very well hung!
I laughed to myself when I thought how mom and daddy would react if they realized their precious little angel would love to have some well hung stud take her to bed and make her scream in delight as he screws the living daylights out of her?
Damn, I'm losing it big time! Why the hell am I thinking of myself as a broad? Not just a broad, but some horny broad who can't wait to get laid? I'm a guy for god's sakes! I'm a normal, straight guy, who is short, stuck with light red hair, freckles, and a thin build. I wish I had brown hair and was built like that sexy hunk of guy sitting over near the Taco shop, but .
I hurried out of the mall before I found myself going home with one of those studs buying pizza and letting them have their way with me.
Not that there was anything wrong with that, I reasoned. They were cute, they had all kinds of muscles, and judging from the bulges in their tight jeans, they could make me a very happy girl!
I raced home and up to my room before I did anything stupid. Mom smiled and asked what was wrong but I ignored her and slammed my door shut behind me. I fired up my PC figuring on spending some quality time on a few of my favorite porn sites.
I looked at all of my favorite sites but for some reason they just didn't do anything for me. I called up the Google search engine to do a search on sex; hoping to find new porn sites I hadn't visited yet. I typed "Sissies" into the search bar and was rewarded with a whole bunch of results.
One site was so cool! The guy was about my age but he loved to dress up like a little girl. There were pictures of him wearing the cutest little girl party dresses with lace ankle socks and shiny black Mary- Jane's, and a few in a Communion dress, with white socks, gloves, and a veil. I dashed off a quick email asking where he got those outfits; I was stiff as a board just imagining myself in a party dress like he wore.
I opened another site and found an older guy who loved to dress like a woman from the early 1950's; full skirted dresses, petticoats, darling little hats, and seamed stockings! Even though the first picture in his gallery clearly showed a man, the rest of the pictures though were like looking at pictures of my grandmother.
Another fun site was Boys in Dresses; which had all kinds of great pictures of very young to teenage boys dressed up like girls. Some were obviously upset over being dressed that way but others were enthusiastic participants; modeling all types of pretty outfits! One set of pictures showed a thin boy of about fifteen as his twin sister took him from being an effeminate boy to a pretty young girl.
The pictures started out with him in jeans and a jersey, then changed to him in nothing but a matching pink bra and panties; smiling as his sister applied lipstick and eye shadow to his face. This boy was obviously having a great time as his sister helped him into a pair of pantyhose, showed him how to roll up socks to stuff his bra, and slid a party dress with a three-tiered skirt over his head.
With his hair brushed into bangs and a pair of heels on his feet; he didn't look quite like a girl but more like a sissified boy. I simply loved the idea of changing a boy into a girl for some reason and I was sure that if he had an age appropriate wig on, there wouldn't be any trace of the boy left behind!
The final picture showed the boy, now wearing a wig, and his sister, as two attractive young ladies, shopping at a mall where they modeled prom gowns.
I spent all afternoon looking at pictures of guys of all ages as they modeled sissy outfits. Some dressed like normal girls or women but the majority wore little girls dresses or French Maid outfits. Of course, while I was looking at the sissy sites, I just couldn't resist putting on my new nightgown and panties; they made me feel all sissy and girly, just like the guys in the pictures.
By the end of the afternoon, I was one sore puppy from all of the stroking I did while looking at the pictures. I finally allowed myself relief in what I was sure was an earth-moving climax. The second I did though I suddenly came back to my senses and was disgusted that instead of browsing for sexy women on the net, I'd just spent an entire afternoon wearing a nightgown and panties and fantasizing about what it would be like to be forced to dress like a sissy!
I got out of the nightgown and panties as fast as I could, grabbed a pair of briefs from my drawer, and quickly got dressed. I shut down my PC, and raced down to get some dinner. I got strange looks from mom and dad again but that was nothing new.
What was new, was when I sat down, and felt the cold wood of the seat against my legs. I looked down to see what was wrong and almost choked when I realized that I was wearing a denim skirt!
I ran back to my room and grabbed a pair of jeans and a jersey to replace the skirt and top, then went back to dinner, glowering and practically daring my parents to say something!
Mom and dad must have been awfully hungry since they were almost halfway through dinner in the time it took me to get out of the skirt and into normal clothes. They both looked up and smiled as I came to the table.
"Was something wrong with the skirt dear?" Mom asked.
I wanted to tell her what she could do with the skirt but I smiled and said. "No, I just felt like something a little dressier."
Was I nuts or what?
I went to place my napkin in my lap and found that instead of the jeans and jersey I was sure that I had changed into, I was wearing a lightweight, white dress, with pink flowers, my chest was pushed out from a padded bra, and my legs were encased in white stockings.
"No, this isn't really happening to me!" I screamed as I ran back to my room. I looked for the jeans and jersey I had meant to wear but there was nothing set out. I found an empty package from the pantyhose I was wearing, and two other dresses lying on my bed, but not a stitch of boy's clothes!
I opened my closet door and realized just how bad my situation really was. I was wearing a summer dress, and obviously a bra and stockings, but adding to my misery were the heels on my feet and the panties I saw when I slowly lifted my skirt, I mean the skirt part of the dress I was wearing.
If all of that wasn't bad enough I noticed that somehow my closet had been stocked with several other dresses, a couple of skirts in more colors than I ever knew existed. My hands wee shaking as I opened a drawer in my dresser where I kept my briefs.
I found a couple pairs of briefs but I also found silky panties, panties made entirely of some sort of stretchy lace, and even a couple of pairs of thong panties. Another drawer was filled with padded bras, a third one had slips, stockings, and girdles, and other drawers had tops and women's jeans in them.
I threw myself on my bed and started to cry. I hadn't cried a single tear since I was eight years old but I just couldn't stop. I must've cried myself to sleep because the next thing I knew it was pitch dark and I had to use the bathroom.
Without a second thought I went into the bathroom, listed my skirt, pulled down my stockings and panties, and sat down to do my business. When I finished, I unzipped and carefully hung up my dress, removed my stockings, panties, and bra, and put on my cute nightgown.
The next morning I felt great; it's amazing what a good night sleep will do for a guy. Of course, once I saw that I was wearing a nightgown, I felt terrible again.
I got it off as fast as possible and carefully assembled a pair of jeans, a jersey, and briefs to wear. I double checked everything before dressing and was satisfied that I had thwarted my parent's master plan to make a sissy out of me.
I gobbled down two plates of pancakes and six sausages before going out to cut the grass. I vaguely remembered the fiasco of the previous night's dinner but couldn't begin to imagine what had possessed me to wear a dress and everything. I concentrated on getting the grass cut, figuring that it would keep any stooped thoughts of dresses from popping into my head
Everything went really well; I got the grass cut, raked everything up and bagged the clippings, and then cleaned and put the mower away. It was time to indulge in my favorite pastime again - on-line porn!
I closed the door to my room and fired up my PC before unzipping my pants. I always enjoyed masturbating when looking at porn; some days I managed two or three climaxes in an afternoon.
When I reached into my pants, I got a rude surprise I was wearing panties again!
I ran to my mirror, quickly undid my belt, and dropped my pants to confirm that my worst fears had come to pass; I was wearing a pair of black, stretch lace, panties!
The panties would have been fantastic on a chick but why the hell was I wearing them? I know I picked out a pair of white briefs yet between picking them out and putting them on, they'd turned into black, lace, panties.
I angrily pulled them off and flung them across the room before putting on a pair of white briefs, I know that they were white briefs because I watched myself in the mirror as I pulled them up my smooth, sexy legs and then tucked my little friend under to prevent an unsightly bulge in my panties.
I opened my nightgown drawer and found that my wonderful mother had gotten me a really girly nightgown a baby-doll style, just like my fave one with the teddy bear on it, but this was pink satin with a chiffon overlay and the matching panties had rows of white lace ruffles on the back.
I gently took off the panties I was wearing and slid on the pink ones before I pulled on my nightgown. I twirled in front of the mirror, taking great delight in looking like such a sissy!
When I finished twirling I noticed that mom had also provided me with some makeup so I did my lips in a frosted pink, put pink eye shadow on my eye lids and sat down to do my nails while looking at sissy sites.
Hours later, I had pretty nails and a sore little friend but I didn't care; I was a girl and I loved being such a sissy girl!
I kept having these strange feelings that something wasn't right but I couldn't see what could possibly be wrong. I simply adored being a girl and I'm sure mom and daddy are happy or they wouldn't have bought me all those pretty outfits. Who knows, maybe being a tomboy for so long has screwed up the way I think of myself but I'm sure that I don't want to be a tomboy anymore. I'm tired of pants and baseball caps and pretending that I'm a boy. I'm not a kid anymore; I want to be like other girls my age and wear pretty outfits and date cute guys.
Maybe it's looking at those guys pretending to be girls. They do seem silly but I think it's sweet that a guy would want to look like a girl. It's actually a compliment that a guy would be willing to risk being ridiculed just so that he could look pretty. Of course, some boys are just too dumb to understand that being a girl is better than being a boy.
I think it would be really fun to make a boy like that dress up in pretty clothes, I know that I'd do everything possible to turn him into a pretty girl. I'd get him pretty panties like I wore, a nice bra with a little ribbon on it to make him feel all sweet and girly, I'd make him shave his legs and then laugh as he started to enjoy the way it felt to wear pantyhose.
I'd put lipstick and eye shadow on him, and then I'd do his lashes with mascara to make them long and sexy looking, and I'd even spray perfume on him to make sure he didn't forget that he was a girl.
I'd show him how to do his nails so that whenever he looked at his hands he'd remember that he was a girl. I'd put bracelets on his wrists that would slide up and down; he'd never be able to think of himself as a boy like that!
I was having a great time thinking of all the rotten things I'd do to make a boy look like a girl when it suddenly occurred to me I was a boy dressed like a girl!
No, that wasn't possible though. I was a girl, a bit of a tomboy in the past, but definitely a girl.
Or was I?
I seemed to have vague memories of growing up as a boy, of playing sports and dating girls. But if I'm really a boy, what am I doing in this frilly nightgown? Why would a boy put on nail polish and wear perfume? Why would I dream about making boys wear girl's clothes and worse yet, why do I get excited thinking about cute guys at the mall?
I was determined to get to the root of things so I went charging downstairs to confront mom.
She smiled when she saw me. "You look very pretty in that nightgown Lindsay,"
"Bullshit!" I screamed. "What have you been doing to me?"
She seemed genuinely confused. "I don't understand dear, I haven't been doing anything but what you asked me to do."
"Oh yeah, then how the hell did I get this!" I asked, holding the hem of my nightgown between two fingers of each hand. "And there are sites of guys dressed like women bookmarked on my PC, how do you explain that?"
"I bought you the nightgown," Mom shrugged. "It was on your list along with the other clothes, the makeup, and the perfume. I still have to order your subscriptions to Vogue and Cosmopolitan."
She handed me a list in my own handwriting detailing exactly the type of nightgown I wanted, along with other outfits and the sizes I'd wear.
"I don't know who wrote this," I screamed at her. "But it couldn't have been me. And someone's been messing with my PC!"
"You should wear a robe with that nightgown Lindsay," I heard dad say as he returned from work. "What's wrong with your PC?"
I explained the new bookmarked cross-dressing and sissy sites and demanded to know who put them on my PC.
"You brag about how complex your password is," Dad shook his head. "You've told us over and over that no one could ever guess it."
I realized that he was right about that. My password consisted of the initials of the first girl I'd ever dated, her birthday, and bra size. It was twelve characters long and just to be sure it couldn't be guessed, I placed the digits for the month, day, and year as the first, middle, and last characters of my password. Sometimes, even I had trouble remembering it.
"Okay, then you tell me. Why am I dressed like a girl?"
"Because you wanted to," Dad shook his head. "You've spent the past couple of weeks telling us that you're tired of being a "Tomboy," as you called it. You said you wanted to be a lady, just like mom. You borrowed her clothes, asked us to call you Lindsey, and frankly, you've been the sweetest daughter imaginable."
"This is the list you wrote, isn't it?" Mom showed me the list again. "You gave it to me and asked me to get these things for you; you said you didn't think you were ready to go out in public yet."
"But I wasn't a tomboy for god's sake!" I screamed. "I was a boy, I mean I am a boy, or something like that."
"Then why did you ask us to call you Lindsey?" Dad asked. "Why do you spend more time in women's clothes than men's?"
I wanted to tell them that I was somehow being sandbagged, brainwashed, that someone had cursed me, but instead I smiled sweetly, put my hands on my hips, and told them that I wanted to become a woman!
"NO!" I screamed as I realized what I'd said. "I want to be a woman. I mean, I never want to be a guy again! I mean, I love wearing pretty clothes and I should've been born a girl, I always hated being a boy."
I gasped and quit talking altogether; afraid that I'd beg them to castrate me then and there.
"It's okay Lindsey," Dad said softly as he pulled me close and hugged me tightly. "There's plenty of help for boys like you and mom and I will make sure you get it. Soon you'll be a beautiful woman, just like your mom."
I tried to scream and tell him that being a beautiful woman was the very last thing in the whole world that I wanted but it didn't work out that way.
"Thank you daddy," I smiled and kissed him. "You're terrific. I hope you're not upset that you're losing your son?"
"I don't want my son to go through life bearing this kind of burden," Dad told me. "Your mom and I have been doing a lot of research and we realize how horrible it must be to try to live your life in the wrong body. We're going to make sure that you get all the help you need to be the woman you should be."
I burst into tears at the thought of being turned into a woman but dad thought they were tears of joy and gave me anther hug and kiss.
He gave me a playful pat on my satin covered but. "Now go put on a nice outfit; I want to take you pretty ladies out to dinner."
Once again, I tried to tell him what he could do with his dinner but ended up asking mom to help me find a nice dress to wear. Unless I could find a way out of this mess, I was doomed.
When mom and I got to my room, I couldn't help but to act like a little girl getting ready to go for dinner with her mom and daddy. Mom picked out several outfits and I modeled them while squealing and carrying on about how wonderful my parents were.
"Oh mom, I can't tell you how excited I am." I babbled while pulling on a pair of lace panties. "I wish I had told you guys a long time ago but I was afraid that you wouldn't understand."
"It hasn't been easy dear," Mom nodded. "But your father and I realize that your bad behavior was simply your way of trying to fit into a role that wasn't right for you. That's why you're such a doll when you're wearing dresses; you were meant to be a girl."
I kissed her and thanked her for being so nice after I had been so rotten.
The idea of going out in public dresses as a woman scared me but every time I went to say anything about it, I ended up telling mom how excited I was. No matter how hard I tried to tell her that I didn't want to be a woman, I ended up asking her advice on what to wear.
I finally gave up and while wearing a pair of panties, stockings, a bra and a slip, began to do my makeup. Mom left for a few minutes but returned carrying the outfit that she planned to wear.
"I thought it would be fun to dress with my new daughter," She said as she began to remove her top. "You don't mind playing dress-up with your mom, do you?"
I smiled and shook my head as I brushed powder over the foundation I wore. "Uh no mom, it's kind of neat, actually."
What could I do; there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I could actually say anything else. Especially when it was all I could do to fight off the feeling of happiness over going out in public as a woman!
When we were finished, mom and I looked totally hot! She wore a white linen dress, white pumps, and a black jacket, while I wore a light blue, sleeveless dress and low heeled, white pumps. Concerns over being discovered were quickly pushed out of my head by thoughts of how pretty I looked.
No, I didn't want to look pretty, and I didn't enjoy being pretty, at least I didn't want to enjoy being pretty. As usual though, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep from smiling as I studied myself in the mirror.
What was I supposed to think? The chick in the mirror was hot! She had great legs, her dress was nice and short, it fit her like a glove, and her lips looked like they were made to suck .
What the hell's wrong with me? I'm dressed like a hot looking chick from the skin out, I'm wearing a wig and makeup, and I think I'd make a great cocksucker!
I wanted to cry my eyes out but I didn't want to risk my mascara running and having to redo my makeup.
Mom gave me my very own purse to hold some makeup, a wallet, and a brush and comb. It was a horrible feeling but I couldn't escape being as happy as a little girl carrying a purse like a grown up lady! I kissed mom to thank her and sluing the purse over my shoulder; it was time for daddy to see his dates.
"Hi daddy, how do we look?" I sang out happily as mom and I walked into the living room. God, I hated calling him daddy, it was so "Little-Girlish," and I certainly wasn't a little girl by a long shot. Hell no, I was a grown woman now. It didn't matter though, now matter how grown up I was, I would always be daddy's little girl!
"You look so pretty," Daddy told me, making me feel all warm and happy. "You're going to break hearts everywhere you go!"
"We'll sit down and have a little mother-daughter talk soon," Mom promised. "You need to understand that things will be different now that you're a woman."
No shit, I thought. As if I didn't know that thing were different. I should be hanging out with Pete, downing beers, talking about babes, but instead I'm wearing a dress and going to dinner with my family.
I gave dad another kiss for holding the car door open for me; kissing him was getting to be a habit for me, it seemed to make him so happy and he was such a wonderful daddy!
No, he wasn't such a wonderful daddy! I don't know what's making me think this way. Every time I look at him I feel all funny inside; I want to call him daddy and act like such a sissy! I started out the day trying to forget all this crap about being a girl and the next think I know, I've told my parents that I want to be a woman, I'm all dolled up and going to dinner. I couldn't fight the urge to get all prettied up and worst of all; I'm enjoying the hell out of being dressed this way.
When mom and I were dressing, I was thrilled to put on a pair of sexy looking panties. As a matter of fact, I chose the prettiest panties I had, telling mom that I wanted to feel all girly. She thought I was serious and quickly ran to get me a garter belt and a pair of nylons; you can't imagine how girly they make me feel!
Every time my legs rub together it feels so damned good that I almost shoot a load into my panties! I keep running my hands along my legs; the feeling of having them all covered in nylon is almost too much to bear.
Then there's the incredible feeling that comes over me when I move and my panty covered butt slides against my slip. Even the tightness of my bra is sending delightful feelings to my brain; convincing me that becoming a woman is the smartest decision I could ever make.
At least it would be if I really, truly, wanted to be a woman. I don't though, never did, and can't imagine that I ever will want to be a woman, no matter how much I swear to my parents that I can't go on as a guy.
I'm stuck on the express to Chicksville and there's no way off. One of these days, I'm going to get breast implants; soon I hope. No, I don't hope, I never want breast implants. I'll have to get them though since I don't know if I can wait to grow my own. Once I have the implants, the first thing I'm going to do is find some cute guy to suck on them so I can experience the same feelings that used to cause my girlfriends to moan and whimper.
Not long after I get my new boobies, I hope I can get my old friend cut off and a nice little box to replace it. Of course, no guy's going to stick his thing into my box; not until he and I say, "I do," that is. I'm not that kind of girl to hop into bed with every guy I meet.
I tell myself to stop it, to quit thinking of my self as a girl but it doesn't help. As soon as I get things under control, I accidentally rub my legs together or slide my butt against my slip, and it's the bus to Chicksville is rolling again!
Daddy pulls into the valet parking at the restaurant and a cute guy opens my door and holds out his hand to me. I smile and hold his hand while getting out of the car; noticing how he glances at my chest and legs when he thinks I don't see.
I give him a big smile to thank him and glance down at the growing bulge in his pants. God, before I can stop myself, I'm smiling at him and licking my lips! He gets my signal and holds my hand just a second longer than necessary. It's thrilling to have such control over men.
Inside, I feel disgusted about what happened but it doesn't last long; I had complete control over the poor guy, he was all hot and bothered, ready to melt in my hands; it didn't get much better than that I realized. As Lou, the guy would've thought I was scum but all dressed up as Lindsay, and I was suddenly worth bothering with. I'd have to come back when I got my boobies; if he was still working here, maybe I could convince him to ask me out.
I'm cracking up; why was I teasing that poor guy? I'm a guy too and the last thing I want is to get another guy turned on. I may be dressed like a pretty young woman but underneath all of this frill is a normal heterosexual guy who wants nothing more than nice boobies, a hot little snatch, and a cute guy to suck on my boobs and ram his rod into my snatch!
"Is everything okay Lindsay?" I heard mom ask. "That young man didn't scare you, did he?"
"Everything's just wonderful mom," I grinned. "No, he didn't scare me."
Everything would be even more wonderful, I thought, if that hot guy was jumping my bones!
I still don't know how I made it home that night without giving that parking attendant a blowjob he'd never forget. As we left, I could feel myself being pulled towards him, aching to take him behind the building and suck him dry. I finally took daddy's arm, pretending to be cold, but needing something to hold me back.
That night, I tried to sleep in a tee shirt and briefs but the instant that I thought of that cute parking attendant; I just had to wear that sexy baby doll nightgown. I went to sleep dreaming that I was on my knees in front of that stud, sucking and slurping like a kid with a lollipop.
When I woke the next morning, I hoped that I had a nightmare and the previous evening didn't really happen. A quick look around my room though and I saw the dress I had worn hung neatly on a hanger, the garter belt, nylons, slip, and bra, slung over the back of my computer chair.
I buried my head in my pillow and sobbed. I really had gone out in public wearing a dress, and I really had wanted to give some guy a blowjob that he'd brag about to his grandchildren! At least he seemed to think of me as a pretty girl; that was some small consolation.
I pulled my head from my pillow and started to smile. That guy thought I was a pretty girl! He looked at me and smiled so he must have liked what he saw.
What wasn't there to like, I thought. I have very nice, sexy looking legs, my dress was very pretty and fit well, and I had done a great job on my wig and makeup. All of my hard work had paid off; a cute guy had thought that I was pretty!
But I don't want to be pretty, I suddenly thought. I'm a guy and guys shouldn't look pretty.
But I'm not really a guy, another thought quickly popped into my brain. I'm really a girl who somehow got stuck in this yucky guy's body. Guys don't wear pretty nightgowns like the one I'm wearing, they don't wear makeup and nail polish, and they don't go to dinner wearing pretty dresses either.
Mom and daddy think I'm pretty and they're going to help me get rid of this yucky body. Someday, I'll be just as much a woman as mom is and I'll have a husband who's as sweet and lovable as my daddy.
I came to my senses and buried my head back into my pillow. If I can't get help soon, I'm going to be in big trouble. I fell back to sleep praying that it would be dreamless.
I felt so much better when I woke up again; I slipped on a pair of cute yellow shorts and a top, white slouch socks and my Reebok Princess sneakers and went to see what mom was doing.
Luckily, it was still early enough and daddy hadn't left for work. I owed him a kiss for the wonderful time I had the night before so I snuck up behind his chair, covered his eyes with my hands, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
"Guess who?" I teased.
"Let's see, could it be my favorite, and very beautiful daughter Lindsay?"
"Your only daughter," I giggled. "But I like the very beautiful part."
"So did that young man who parked our car last night," Daddy teased. "He nearly tripped on his tongue."
"He was awfully cute," I blushed. "He seemed to enjoy holding my hand while I got out of the car."
"I can't blame him," Daddy smiled and gave me a gentle squeeze. "That's something you're going to have to get used to since I can safely predict it will happen a lot."
"I'm not sure I'll be able to handle attention from other guys," I admitted. "This is all so new to me."
"Other guys won't be looking at you dear," Mom corrected. "You're not a guy; you're a beautiful young woman."
"But I'm still "
"You're no more a male than I am Lindsey," She insisted. "Your body needs a little bit of changing but in your mind, you're completely female."
"Your mom's right Lindsey," Dad added. "It may take a little while for you to adjust but there's no denying it; your'e a very lovely young woman,"
I felt all warm and happy inside; my family understood what I was going through and wanted to reassure me that everything would be fine.
"How about we go on a little shopping trip sweetie?" Mom suggested. "Nothing makes a woman feel better than shopping; except chocolate of course."
"I don't know mom," I hedged. "I've only been dressing this way for a little while; I don't know if I can pretend to be a woman in public yet."
"Remember the look that guy gave you last night?" Dad asked. "You're not fooling anyone, you are a woman."
"We could pick up some more pretty lingerie?" Mom offered.
"It's a deal."
What had I done? Instead of telling mom that there was no way I wanted to go shopping for lingerie or any other women's clothes, I'd just bargained my way into a trip to the inner sanctum of femininity. Every time I try to insist that I'm a guy who is somehow being tricked, I end up with the opposite result.
I helped mom clean up the breakfast dishes, gave daddy a goodbye kiss when he left and then mom and I went to my room to get ready to shop.
Mom suggested that I wear a cute denim skirt she bought for me.
"It's nice and short, just perfect for those sexy legs of yours."
"But I like these shorts, they're comfy and pretty."
"Right now, shorts aren't you're best bet," Mom explained gently. "You have that little bulge in your panties that might show if you wear shorts."
I pouted but gave in and changed into the skirt.
"What about that bulge mom," I asked. "When can I get rid of it?"
"It's going to take a little time honey; first you have to see a psychologist to get him to recommend that you become a woman. Then you'll start on hormones and will have to live for a year as a woman before anything irreversible is done."
"I don't want to have to wait that long!" I frowned. "What if the Psychologist doesn't think I should be a woman?"
"Don't worry," Mom said as she brushed out my wig. "I'm sure he'll see the same pretty young woman everyone else sees. People don't go through all of this as a joke."
A joke? No, I suddenly didn't see anything funny in this. If that shrink recommends that I become a woman, it's all over. My ticket to Chicksville will be stamped, I'll be started on hormones, my little friend will be removed, and I'll never be a guy again.
"But I don't want to take hormones; I don't want to be a woman! Please don't let this happen to me."
That's what I tried with all of my heart to tell mom but when I opened my mouth, things didn't work out that way.
"I can't wait mom!" I told her with all the enthusiasm I could manage. "Do you think I could get breast implants right away?"
Mom thought about it for a little while. "I don't see why not Lindsey. I'm sure you'll feel so much better when you have your own breasts."
Crap, she wasn't even going to wait for the psychologist's report; as far as she was concerned, I was already her daughter and a boob job would cheer me up.
That was my life; I was the sweetest, most lovable daughter a family could want. I helped mom with the housework, I watched soap operas and chick flicks with her, and I waited on daddy like he was some sort of king. I never raised my voice around them, and I even quit swearing. Every morning I helped mom with breakfast and then, after daddy left, we cleaned the house, watched TV, or had one of our adventures.
Our adventures ranged from clothes shopping to learning the skills mom felt I'd need to land a husband. Those skills ranged from sewing, to laundry, cooking and baking. I learned to do some basic mending and hemming and then was on my way to sewing a simple outfit for myself.
I guess I should mention that I was no longer afraid to be seen in public; by then I could easily pass as a woman in any situation. I hate to admit it but I'm responsible for a good bit of my passing ability.
One day while I was browsing the net, checking out sites of other girls like myself since I no longer seemed to have any interest in porn, I ran across an ad for a CD that would teach me to pitch my voice like a woman. I quickly ordered it along with several others that would teach me feminine mannerisms. Before long, I was able to leave mom's side and browse through outfits that caught my eye.
I don't understand it either but after spending so much time living as Lindsey, I was beginning to think of myself as a woman. What could I do, I slept in a room that had been painted a light pink, (daddy did it, but I chose the color), my Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition posters were gone, (I trashed them when I realized they made me jealous), and I had a collection of cute dresser dolls.
I couldn't dress as a guy even if I wanted to; I'd packed all of my male clothes up and daddy helped me take them to Goodwill along with the model cars that were getting in the way of my new vanity. All of the porn I had downloaded to my PC was gone; I replaced it with pictures of other guys who were trying to become women; I considered them an inspiration. Even getting drunk was a thing of the past for me; it seemed so silly. I had better ways to spend my time, like learning to crochet or shopping with Misty
I can understand how odd it must seem, but Misty and I were like sisters. We spent tons of time in the same chat rooms like T-Girl world, and we were constantly IM'ing each other.
I lent her my CD's and soon she and I were spending weekends shopping and checking out the hot guys. We'd take a slow walk around the mall in our skimpy denim skirts and midriff tops, stopping to window shop and get a few guys all excited.
Little by little, Lou was being pushed away and I couldn't stop it. To my horror, each passing day made me more and more of a woman. At first I tried to fight every little change; I told myself that I would never give in an learn to cook, even as I tied a pretty apron around me as I began preparing dinner.
When I lost that battle, I was determined that I'd never let them change my room; then squealed in delight as daddy repainted it and mom set up my curio cabinet with dresser dolls.
I vividly remembering how hard it was to give up my male clothes; actually I begged daddy to drive me to the Goodwill store.
One day, I felt sure that I could finally say what I really felt. I'd been practicing all morning in m room before I was ready to rip mom apart.
"I'm sick of this!" I told her as I threw my wig down. "I just can't take it anymore."
Mom quickly threw her arms around me and held me tight.
"What's wrong honey?" She asked. "Tell me what's bothering you."
I took a deep breath; it was finally time to straighten things out and get back to normal. Or at least I thought it was.
"I'm tired of wearing a wig; can my own hair be styled so it looks pretty?"
Oh hell, here we go again, I thought as mom called her hairdresser to make an appointment for me.
"Yes Mary, that's right. I want to bring my daughter Lindsay in to have her hair done." I heard her say. "Oh, well you probably remember her as Lou, my son. He's finally decided to follow his heart and become a woman. Uh huh, she's been wearing a wig but you know how hot they can be, and she has enough on her mind without worrying about how to brush it or keep it from slipping. Her hair's a little short but I just know you can work magic with it so she can look her best."
I knew better than to complain, fate seemed to want to make a woman out of me and nothing was going to prevent that. Like the sweet girl I was fast becoming, I walked into the beauty shop two days later and signed in as Lindsey Marie Collings.
I had a nice time talking to mom's friend as she redid my hair and we had lots of good laughs over how, as a kid, when I was home alone, I used to sneak into mom's room and try on her clothes. I told her that by the time I was eight, I knew more about makeup than many teenage girls. She was very sympathetic as I told her how upset I was in the seventh grade, and the girls in my class began wearing bras.
Hours later, my hair had been shampooed, cut, and permed into the cutest style I could have imagined. I wouldn't be sitting at my vanity brushing my hair for hours before going to bed, but my new style was short, sassy, and very feminine! If you can picture a cute little female elf, you'll see me!
My new hairstyle gave me much more confidence in my ability to pass as a woman. I began going shopping alone when Misty was working or too busy and even had the courage to talk to a few guys who'd stop by my table while I was at the food court. They obviously thought I was a cute or they wouldn't have stopped. I may be well on the way to accepting myself as a woman, but I still remembered a few things from my days as a guy.
Even when mom insisted on introducing me to all of her friends at church as her daughter, I didn't flinch. I smiled sweetly while they looked at me in my dress, stockings, heels, my short hair done in a feminine style, and my pretty face perfectly made up. When they said they thought that she only had a son; I happily explained that I used to be the son named Lou but that I was Transgendered and was going to become a woman. I felt like I was committing suicide when I did so; but I couldn't seem to keep my big mouth shut. It was almost worth feeling completely humiliated to see the looks on their faces.
After that, I got a few strange looks but for the most part, everyone I met was very supportive. Girls I had dated called to ask if what they heard was true and I happily assured them that I couldn't wait to get my sex changed. I think that a few of them were testing me when they asked if I'd like to join them for lunch and a shopping trip. I quickly accepted and blew their minds when I showed up in a blue and white, halter style sundress, low-heeled sandals, and a purse slug over my shoulder.
One look at my perky new breasts seemed to convince the girls that I was serious. They quickly gathered around and threw dozens of questions at me.
"Do you like guys?"
"I always did," I smiled and glanced at a nearby hunk. "I was just afraid to say anything. I'm really sorry that I used you girls, can you forgive me?"
A few were dumbstruck; could this charming lady really have been the foul-mouthed jerk they had once known?
Actually, the foul-mouthed jerk they'd once known was still around; he was trapped inside the charming lady they were talking to.
Trapped, with no way to get out; every time I opened my mouth to complain, I dug myself in even deeper.
When I tried to tell mom that I detested the idea of shopping for women's clothes, I ended up begging to go to Victoria's Secret. I wanted to tell them that I hated dresses and lingerie and I ended up donating all of my male clothes to charity and having my room redone.
What possessed me to ask mom to teach me how to cook? Why had it become so important to me to learn to sew and crochet? I absolutely hate dressing like some sort of queer; unless mom lets me wear her garter belt and nylons, which make me feel so sexy.
Don't even get me started on wearing makeup; I won't leave the house without blush and lipstick.
Then we have the not so little matter of these bulges on my chest.
I hoped mom would forget our little conversation about breast implants but through a friend of a friend, she was able to get an appointment for me two weeks after we talked. I fought, screamed, and carried on for hours; Actually, I jumped for joy and gave mom a great big hug when she told me about the appointment. Finally, I could give up my little girl padded bras and wear sexy ones meant for real women!
I went from scared out of my mind to thrilled beyond belief as the days separating me from having my own breasts passed. I was desperate to find a way to communicate how I really felt; I tried writing down my feelings, and then typing them up on my PC but it didn't help. I'd look at the paper or the screen and saw that instead of explaining that I didn't want to have breast implants, I had written a list of the prettiest bras I'd seen and what size I wanted my breasts to be. My list ranged from 30AAA when I was scared, to 38DD when I was euphoric.
One day, I worked myself into a lather, stormed into mom's room and told her that I never in a million years wanted breasts - at least not unless they were 34B's or bigger. Not long afterwards, I was flat on my back, sleeping soundly while a plastic surgeon provided me with a beautiful pair of perky 34B's!
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