Dec 30 2014, 02:44 PM
okies this is part 5 and ending.
Mike offered his arm and it turned out I needed it as I might have
fallen teetering down the steps in my new heels. I'm sure I looked
delightfully helpless and feminine.
Dave had brought his Camaro and it was impossible to get into the low
back seat with any modesty! We drove to the dance with me constantly
fighting to keep my skirts down but only succeeding in putting on a
private peep show for Mike.
What a contrast it was to look down and see Mike's sturdy shoes and
thick trousers next to my fragile sandals and delicate nylons with my
painted toe nails peeking through. How had I gotten myself into this?
What if this big guy found out I was really a boy dressed up?
Feeling my bare arm against his tweed jacket, I quickly decided my only
option was to act a feminine as possible. Choking on my words I
fluttered my eyelashes and told Mike how strong he was. He responded
by casually resting a hand on my nyloned thigh.
We got to the dance and again I put on quite a show getting out of the
car. Tracy just smiled at my startled expression when Mike put his arm
around my waist and ushered me in.
I was never a good dancer, let alone in heels, but when Mike and I
started a waltz he led masterfully. I just stayed on my toes while he
kept balance for us both.
It was humiliating to feel his hand on my back, toying with the zipper
and bustier snaps. Every now and then he would grind his hips into me
and even wearing a crinoline I could feel his manhood pressed against
me. I, meanwhile, had my equipment tucked up and couldn't respond
under any circumstances.
Whenever he twirled me, my skirts rode up exposing my stocking tops,
garters, and even my red panties! Several of the real girls glared at
me and my brazen display. Tracy was no help at all, threatening to
expose me if I didn't adjust my garters while Mike looked on.
I felt totally embarrassed watching the boys in their suits, knowing
that I should be among them instead of wearing a pretty dress and
passing myself off as a girl. Boys were supposed to do important deeds
to succeed, while I had been carefully prepared to present my feminine
charms to anyone who cared to look.
With Mike's dancing skill, however, I finally relaxed a little and
tried to enjoy myself as I glided across the floor.
The evening ended with me a little less frantic in the Camaro's back
seat. I let Mike put his arm around me and even let him give me a peck
on the cheek at the door. I felt like a complete sissy and broke into
tears as soon as Tracy and I got inside.
Here I was, a boy, wearing a dress and sobbing into a lace hankie with
mascara streaks down my cheeks. My Aunt cleaned me up and made me take
a hot bath before bed.
I think it was that episode that broke my will. Starting that next day
I was resigned to my pretty skirts and stopped thinking about the next
time I would be wearing trousers.
I became more aware of women's fashions and admired a girl's appearance
instead of mentally undressing her. I began thinking of the feminine
finery in the closet as my own. I completely mastered the art of
walking in heels and no longer felt angry when a boy admired my legs.
I became addicted to romance novels putting myself alternately in the
male and female roles. My aunt taught we dressmaking and embroidery.
Soon I was making some of my own outfits.
The so-called 'vitamins' that I had been taking every day turned out to
be female hormones. The first inkling I had of the truth was when I
noticed lumps under my nipples. I confronted my aunt who explained
that she merely wanted to keep my masculine drives under control and
that the slight changes to my body were only a temporary side effect.
Tracy was aware of the changes, of course, and made a big deal out of
the first time I filled out a 34B bra without padding. My hips had
added weight as well, making my panties fit better.
I had been masquerading in skirts for almost four months when Aunt
Helen informed me that she considered me convincing enough as a girl to
risk a trip to see my mother, who was temporarily out of jail pending
appeal. This involved an unescorted plane flight and my first solo
outing since my feminization.
The morning of my trip found me sitting in the foyer looking out the
front window. I was wearing a burgundy suit with a white see-through
blouse with a standup collar revealing an utterly feminine white lace
slip. I had wiggled into cream- colored control top panty hose and
beige leather pumps. Tracy had made me wear an underwire bra that
urged my breasts into prominence.
Gold hoop earrings, an antique locket, a tennis bracelet and several
rings completed my ensemble. I toyed idly with my necklace until it
was time to leave.
Aunt Helen and Tracy drove me to the airport and stayed with me until I
boarded the plane with my overnight bag and burgundy purse.
As I minced to my aisle seat, a wave of humiliation came over me. I
had let two females take away my masculinity and now, without anyone
guarding me, I was trying to pass myself off as a girl! I had allowed
myself to be petticoated and then cooperated in learning to become more
and more ladylike.
My skirts were hiked up dramatically as I stood on tiptoes to store my
bag. As we took off, I crossed my legs and began reading a new romance
novel. The men in the adjoining seats openly admired my legs and I
even allowed a wisp of my frilly slip to remain on display.
The novel contained a steamy scene where the young heroine, on her way
to the New World, was slowly seduced by a handsome pirate.
With my male equipment tucked away and inoperative, I couldn't respond
to the sexy passages in the normal way- instead, I noted with alarm
that my nipples hardened and the only gratification came from bouncing
my leg and swinging my pump on and off with my toes. Even
unconsciously I had acquired feminine gestures!
Just before we landed I took my cue from the females on the flight and
freshened my lipstick and checked my hair and makeup.
When we landed, there was the customary rush for the exit. I waited
for the plane to empty, since I didn't want to get tripped up rushing
in high heels. I normally didn't have to think about my heels, but I
had only four months practice while these real women had had years and
years.
I collected my things and slowly walked off the plane. It wasn't hard
to spot my mother; she was wearing melodramatic dark glasses as some
sort of disguise.
I walked up to her and whispered a hello. Her eyes went wide as she
recognized me. "John! Is that really you?" We hugged like mother and
daughter. I was embarrassed to realize I was so feminized that I had
been concerned about my makeup as we embraced.
Not knowing if we were being watched, I instructed her to call me
Heather as we walked outside and took a cab to the hotel. With the
driver listening, we didn't talk much during the ride. Mom spent most
of the time inspecting me and smiling a funny kind of smile.
When we pulled up to the hotel, I remembered my training and let men
open the doors and take care of the luggage. Once in the room, my
mother couldn't stop raving at my impersonation. She ran her hands
over me and nodded as she hefted my breasts and patted my hips.
"I know this has been a tremendous sacrifice on your part, John, but
I'm so happy that you've accepted Helen's program as well as you have.
Since you'll have to pretend to be a girl for awhile longer, let's make
the best of it and pick out something gorgeous for us to wear to
dinner!
I had expected my mother to let me revert to being a boy as long as
possible, but instead I found myself spending our limited time together
shopping to look even more feminine.
After trying on dozens of dresses, she picked out a red chemise for me
and a black beaded sheath for herself. I also bought red patent D'Arcy
spike-heeled pumps while my mother was off selecting my lingerie. We
took all the boxes back to the hotel and went down to the hotel's
beauty parlor to have manicures and our hair styled.
How strange it was to sit next to my mother and exchange girl-talk
while being primped for an evening out! Back upstairs we began
changing for dinner and I got my first look at the underthings she had
bought for me. Nestled among the finery was a red satin corset. My
protests fell on deaf ears as the hellish contraption was wrapped
around me and snapped up in front.
I thought the corset was uncomfortable, but bearable. That was until
she began tightening the laces! She had to put her knee in my back to
pull hard enough. At last she tied off the cord as I began to swoon
from the lack of oxygen.
I looked down and saw my breasts cradled in the soft underwired cups.
In the corset it was impossible to slouch, resulting an apparently
proud, thrust-out bosom.
Mom handed me a package of seamed black stockings. As I rolled them up
my legs I noticed they felt different from any I had previously worn.
As she helped me straighten my seams, she explained that they were real
silk. How luxurious they felt!
I tucked my male equipment away, wiggled into a pair of black bikini
panties and stepped into my new heels. I walked over to the mirror. I
looked like a pinup!
I asked my mother why she had dressed me in such provocative undies
when the last thing I wanted to do was attract men? She replied that
she wanted to reward my girlishness by treating me to sexy underwear.
While she got herself ready I slipped on my new chemise and felt a
little more modest. The hem barely covered my stocking tops and the
bias cut suspended the entire front from my out-thrust breasts.
My mother lent me her diamond earrings and choker necklace. I had to
admit we both looked good enough to eat as we minced out the door and
took the elevator up to the restaurant.
As we entered the restaurant several different emotions fought for
control. On one hand I felt uncomfortable being laced into a corset
and balancing in the skyscraper heels, but I also felt proud of my
appearance and the way the hose and heels flattered my legs and the way
the corset and dress presented the rest of me. There was no way to
fight it, the outfit had been carefully designed to attract men.
At regular intervals, though, I would be reminded that I was really a
boy and felt ashamed at my lack of resistance to my feminization and
that I willingly dressed as seductively as I did.
We were seated at our table and my mother must have seen some pangs of
doubt in my face. "Oh, Heather, don't be concerned- you look just
yummy. Just relax and let the female in you enjoy yourself."
I tried to follow her advise and simply chatted with my mother as if we
were two girls. I stopped compulsively tugging on my hem and just let
men admire my legs as if I didn't notice.
"You manage your heels perfectly, dear. Helen and Tracy must have had
you practicing day and night." I actually blushed at the complement.
There was a particular man who never took his eyes off of us. I
pointed him out to Mom and she nodded. "That's right, Heather, you've
spotted Jim Hanks- one of your father's private detectives." Seeing us
both staring at him, he smiled and came over.
"Good Evening, Mrs. Higgins, who is your lovely companion?"
"This is my friend's niece, Heather." I whispered a 'hello'.
"Heather, where is John Higgins?" I protested that I didn't know and he
just nodded. "I admire your loyalty, Heather, but it's misfocused.
John's father misses him and wants him back. I think I'll visit you
and your aunt sometime soon and see what there is to see."
He returned to finish his meal.
"Well, Heather, it looks like you're destined to stay a girl for quite
some time. Is it really so terrible wearing your pretty dresses and
acting feminine?" I admitted that I sometimes enjoyed the girlish
clothing and activities, but I missed being a boy and often felt
ashamed of acting like such a sissy.
"Oh, honey, I'm afraid we can't let you return to being a boy right
now. The best I can do is to make your feminine life as enjoyable as
possible. I'm giving you charge cards for all the best stores and I
expect you to buy freely with them."
After dinner we had a nightcap in the lounge and returned to our room.
We undressed (I got to remove the hellish corset), removed our makeup,
put each other's hair up in rollers, donned our nighties and went to
bed. The next morning I had to fly back to Aunt Helen's house. My
mother and I got dressed and packed up our things. I had on an
underwire bra, cream nylon panties, dark brown support pantyhose, a
white teddy, white silk blouse, long brown skirt and my new red pumps.
The skirt reached midcalf, but it had a long slit in front that showed
off a generous expanse of leg whenever I moved.
We took a cab to the airport, hugged each other, and went our separate
ways to our flights.
My seatmate was a boy about my age. He was dressed in a dark blue suit
and tie and read a collection of hot rod magazines with intensity while
I scanned more fashion monthlies.
What a contrast to see his casual masculinity next to me. He was
studying how to create a fast automobile- something tangible, while I
fussed with my skirt and worried about getting a run in my hose.
Aunt Helen, with Tracy, met the plane and the three of us drove back to
her house. As I unpacked and hung up my clothes, I was struck with my
situation: although I was a boy, I had to wear panties and skirts-
there simply wasn't anything else to choose from! Besides, even if I
somehow found some boy's clothing, my blossoming breasts and hips would
make me look ridiculous.
At dinner, Aunt Helen informed me that she was hosting a very important
tea on Wednesday, and that I Tracy and I were to dress up for the
occasion.
On the morning of the tea Tracy and I helped each other get ready. I
started with a pale blue bra and panty set followed by Tracy's puckered
panty girdle and a new pair of light beige nylons. I slipped on a pair
of mules, wrapped myself in a robe, and ate a quick lunch. Back
upstairs we did each other's hair and makeup.
I wiggled into a white half slip and got into my dress- it was a floral
lavender chiffon tea gown. It had a plunging neckline, highlighting my
cleavage, full cuffed sleeves, and a wide belt. I carefully sat on
Tracy's bed and slipped on a pair of purple slingbacks with an open
toe.
Tracy had chosen a creme silk suit with matching pumps. As people
began to arrive, we sprayed ourselves with perfume and added our
jewelry. As I waited for Tracy to finish, I inspected myself in her
mirror. I patted a few imaginary wrinkles and then quickly blushed at
the feminine gesture. At that moment I felt absolutely girlish. I was
wearing uncomfortable underwear just to look attractive. I had spent a
considerable length of time worrying about the choice of stocking
color!
Finally Tracy was ready and I flounced down the staircase behind her.
Quite a few people were there and I flitted around the house helping
serve the tea and sandwiches. As I approached a couple with their
backs to me I heard the may say "I still don't understand why you got
me to come here to Helen's house. Is John here or not?"
"See for yourself. Here he is!" They turned and I dropped the tray I
was carrying. The two were my parents.
"See what your son has become? A utter and complete sissy. He wears
dresses and high heels, paints his long nails and has pierced ears.
He's even had a date with a boy." "Is all this true, John?" I broke
down in a feminine outburst of tears and ran upstairs.
My father decided he didn't want any part of a sissy son and dropped
his law suit. I returned home with Mom and was kept in dresses until I
left home.
I'm back in pants, now, but every time I see a pretty girl I study her
clothing and gestures. After all, I walked more than a mile in her
shoes.
I Was Turned into A Girl, Part 4 Dating with Boy
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