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Volume 1
FAMILY GONE GIRL
© 2018 SANDY THOMAS ADV.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without the express prior written permission of the publisher
Contact: Sandy Thomas
P.O. Box 2309
Capistrano Beach, CA 92624-0309
My E-MAIL ADDRESS IS:
THIS STORY IS A WORK OF FICTION. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events
or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
QUOTE BOARD
“Sometimes it is a long journey to become
where you were to begin with….”
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FAMILY GONE GIRL
By Sandy Thomas
Some people don’t like Birthdays. Maybe because they
never get what they really want? I didn’t know what I
wanted….
One rainy Saturday afternoon last April, I went over
to my friend’s house to see what he was doing. Tommy
and I were juniors in high school and rather close friends.
His mother let me in and told me, “Tommy is down in the
recreation room.”
I liked going to Tommy’s house. His sister, Kaylee,
was a popular and “hot” student at my school. Mrs. Gault
was also considered hot. Both mother and daughter were
always dressed in fashionable tight skirts and stiletto
heels. I don’t know why I cherished Tommy’s mother’s
precarious wobble as she walked.
That day, I remember feeling very sorry for women
who had to wear high heels every day and all day. Mrs.
Gault’s sleek, streamlined black patent leather heels were
utterly spellbinding! Of course, she was not the only
wearer of needle thin, spiked heels. My mother never
complained but choose her shoes based on only fashion,
never comfort. Always in fashion are some very high
heels.
I found Tommy working on his stamp collection and
soon we were both pouring over his album.
Shortly, Mrs. Gault came down and said, “I have the
clothes ready now, Tommy. Come on up.”
“No!” said Tommy. “I told you before, nothing doing.
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“What’s going on?” I asked in bewilderment.
“Oh,” said his mother, “Tommy was arguing with
Kaylee and me that girls have it easy in school and get
the best of everything. He thinks girls get breaks without
working. So we offered to dress him as a girl and let him
try being one. Maybe he’ll learn how wrong he is. Come
on, Tommy.”
Tommy just sat there, red faced. “Go ahead, Tommy,”
I said. “Seeing you in your sister’s dress will be a hoot!”
“No way,” said Tommy, getting redder by the minute.
Suddenly Mrs. Gault turned to me and said, “How
about you, Brendan? If he won’t do it, how about letting
us dress you up?”
My smiling face suddenly froze into a mixture of
astonishment and embarrassment. Mrs. Gault was
serious and I felt like wilting as she saw my total
embarrassment.
I said, “I have to go. I’ll be late.”
Mrs. Gault said, “I’ll call your mother. I’m sure she’ll
let you stay.”
Now, my face was red, as I stammered a refusal.
Tommy suddenly turned to the offensive and began
urging me, “Go ahead, Brendan. You thought that it
would be fun to see me in a dress. Well, I think it will be
just as much fun to see you all dressed up. Go ahead,
don’t be chicken.” The shoe was on the other foot now.
Tommy and his mother poured it on me. Kaylee, his
sister, came down and joined in the argument. Finally, in
desperation, I gave in. “All right, Tommy. I’ll let them do
it, but only if you do it too,” I blurted out. Caught in my
own trap, what else could I do?
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“Go ahead, Tommy,” I said. “Seeing you in your
sister’s dress will be a hoot!”
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A smile crossed Tommy’s face and he suddenly agreed,
“OK, it’s a deal. If you tell anyone, I tell everyone it was
your idea….”
His mother led us upstairs and told us both to take a
shower and then come to her room. Tommy went first and
then it was my turn. By the time I had my shower and
went to her room, he had on a panty girdle and Kaylee
was fastening a bra on him. Mrs. Gault handed me a
panty girdle and told me to put it on. Somehow I managed
to get into it and then she slipped a bra over my arms and
hooked it in back. As Kaylee stuffed some cotton into
Tommy’s bra to fill it out, her mother did the same to me.
Next they handed us each a pair of nylons and giggled
as they watched us struggle to put them on and attach the
garters. Then came nylon slips, mine being a pretty pink
trimmed with lace, while Tommy got white, also trimmed
with lace.
I can’t describe the exquisite feeling it gave me as the
soft silky material caressed my body. I also noticed a
strange look on Tommy’s face as he moved about in his
slip. Shoes were more of a problem, but some ‘low heeled’
flats were found that fit us both.
Kaylee led us over to the vanity and the two of them
went to work on our faces. They did a complete makeup
job; base, powder, rouge, lipstick, eyebrow pencil, eyeliner
and mascara, even shaping our brows a bit.
After our nails were shaped and polish, Kaylee placed
her only wig on Tommy. I wore my hair quite long,
although neatly trimmed at the temples and at the neck.
After fingering my hair for a while, Mrs. Gault suggested
that Kaylee fix my hair in a feminine style. With brush,
comb and spray can, Kaylee teased, sprayed and combed
until my hair resembled that of a girl.
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Mrs. Gault then brought out a pretty pink shirtwaist
dress for me and helped me put it on. Kaylee got a lovely
white shift dress for Tommy and helped him put it on.
Earrings and necklaces were given to us and our costumes
were completed with a spray of cologne.
Tommy and I looked at each other, and we were both
speechless. He looked pretty to me, but both of them
raved over my appearance. A long look in the full-length
mirror confirmed their opinions. I was electrified with my
appearance. I really did look like a pretty girl.
We were allowed to walk slowly around the room for a
while in order to get used to our new clothes and low
heels. Then we were taken downstairs to the living room
and told that we would have to spend the rest of the
afternoon as girls. Tommy and I both grinned at each
other. He was enjoying himself and so was I.
We both helped his mother in her regular Saturday
chores, slipping rather easily into imitating the role of
girls once we became accustomed to the strange feeling of
our new attire.
At some point, Kaylee appeared with a couple pairs of
real high heels for “a test.”
We put them on and made our way around the living
room. I could barely hobble in them and Tommy was was
walking even more erratically than me. We all laughed at
our attempts in only about 3” heels. Kaylee said,
“Someday try spending the day in my 5" heels!”
But it was fun as Tommy and I cat walked and I
hobbled and tried to master a fabulous pair of Kaylee’s
finest high heels.
At one point, Mrs. Gault kicked me her stiletto heels
and said, “Let me see how you do in big girl shoes.”
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I tried to hide my excitement as I slipped her shoes on
my nyloned toes and stood up. A rush of adrenaline hit
me as I stood, perched in Mrs. Gault’s incredible shoes! I
felt that extra bit of height and was almost dizzy. The
sense of feminine instability was overwhelming as I took
a few precarious steps.
I hardly heard Kaylee say, “Wow? You’re a natural?
Just take shorter steps. Shoulders back and relax your
hips.”
I was quite unprepared for the new sensations. My
hips moved to a new angle, and I took small mincing steps
around the room. In a mirror, the heels had transformed
my posture. I felt a little steady and enjoyed the
exaggerated wiggle and extra height.
In Mrs. Gault’s higher heels, I quickly found my
ankles beginning to wobble with the strain of trying to
walk and then almost fell over like a drunken sailor.
“I’ll take those back now,” she said.
She wore them beautifully without a hint of a wobble,
mince or stagger. I had a new respect for what women
achieved for “fashion.”
Kaylee left the house shortly afterwards, saying she
had some shopping to do. Mrs. Gault talked to us as if we
were girls, complementing us and helping us to overcome
our awkward shyness.
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Tommy and I looked at each other, and we were
both speechless. He looked pretty to me, but both of
them raved over my appearance.
The afternoon passed all too quickly. Soon it was
almost five o’clock and I told them that I had better
change back to my own clothes and get home. At that time
I heard Kaylee’s voice at the side door and then I heard a
very familiar voice, my Mother’s! Kaylee had brought her
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over to see me. I tried to run and hide but Mrs. Gault held
me until she came into the room.
Mom just stood in the doorway staring at Tommy and
me. I knew he felt uneasy, but the exhilarating feeling I
had had a short time ago was gone. I felt miserable as my
mother eyed my wavy hair, my makeup, my padded
bosom, my dress and then my legs.
“How did you ever get them to do this?” she asked. “I
didn’t believe Kaylee when she told me how good they
looked. My son makes a good-looking girl! Unbelievable! I
just can’t get over it!”
Looking at the clock, I said, “I better change so we can
go home.”
Mother said, “Oh, no, there isn’t time for you to
change. I have dinner in the oven and we must hurry
home before it is ruined. You can change when we get
home.”
“But I can’t go out looking like this,” I said. “What if
someone saw me?”
“So what?” mother said. “You look very nice in your
pretty new clothes. There is nothing wrong in the way you
are dressed and nothing to be ashamed of. Isn’t that
right, Kaylee?”
Mrs. Gault readily agreed and Kaylee basically pushed
me out the door. It had stopped raining and it was rather
warm, so what else could I do? Our house was close, only
a block away so I fell in step along side of my mother.
Wearing girl’s clothes as a joke `inside’ was one thing, but
wearing them outside was terrifying at first then exciting.
I was thrilled before, but I was on Cloud 9 now. I was
conscious of the breeze blowing my skirt and soft slip
about my legs with every step. Mother chatted constantly
in order to keep me calm as we entered our side door.
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As I stepped inside I stopped suddenly. “What will Dad
say?” I wailed. In my ecstasy I had completely forgotten
about him.
“Don’t worry about him,” Mom said, “He was home
when Kaylee came to get me, and he’s anxious to see you.
With that, she took me by the hand and led me into the
living room where Dad was reading the evening paper.
When he saw me, he almost dropped his paper. He sat
there for quite a while just looking at me, then got up and
walked over to me. He looked me up and down from every
angle while I just stood there praying that the floor would
open up and swallow me. The verbal barrage I expected
never came. Instead he just wolf whistled teasingly.
“You know, Honey,” he finally said, “Our son makes a
pretty good looking girl. Why, he looks just like you did
when I first met you.”
I blushed as he said to me, “Well, aren't you a beauty.”
I felt my face grow fiery under his astonishment, but I
turned a full circle so he could get the full effect of the
dress.
“Do you mean that you approve of this, Dad?” I asked.
“Well, approve isn’t exactly the word for it, but I know
that you are all boy and not effeminate so I see no harm
in it.”
“Come on, Brenda,” mother said, “Help me get supper
ready like a good girl. We can’t very well call you Brendan
now, can we?”
“Go on now BRENDA,” Dad nodded his head in
agreement.
My heart was pounding as I went to do mother’s
bidding. Why was I feeling like this? Here I was expecting
nothing but abuse or teasing from Dad, but instead I had
his OK. I thought that I was the only member of the
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family who was crazy, but my parents too? What was
going on around here? I dismissed these thoughts,
however, as I was setting the table.
All through the meal Dad couldn’t keep his eyes off of
me. Mother kept giving me little hints on how to act like a
girl, such as how to smooth out my skirt when I sat down,
how to hold my hands, how to eat, how to speak a little
more softly, etc. I found myself enjoying my new role and
new name.
I had enjoyed myself all afternoon, but had to hide my
pleasure. It was a one-time thing.
After dinner, mother said, “Brenda, help me finish up
the kitchen.” As any daughter should.
We spent the evening watching television, and anyone
who could have seen us would not have known that a
young boy was present. All too soon for me it was time to
retire for the night.
Mother came to my room to help me undress and to
teach me how to take care of the things. I was a little bit
embarrassed to be seen by her wearing girl’s lingerie.
“You are only wearing what I wear…everyday,” she
laughed.
As I was washing the makeup off of my face, she
brought me one of her nylon nightgowns, saying, “Here,
you may as well wear this over your panties to make your
day as a girl complete.”
I climbed into bed wearing the slinky nightgown and
panties, wondering why I was wearing them. They did
feel nice and soft around my body, and I slept in seventh
heaven that night.
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Sunday, after we returned from Church, mother
packed my costume from yesterday and returned the
clothes to Mrs. Gault.
Nothing more was said of the incident, but I thought
often of the thrills I had experienced, wondering why I
enjoyed myself so much.
It was Spring and I was doing well in high school. I
played second base on our school baseball team and hit a
respectable .320 average.
We had a new headmaster and he put in a strict dress
code for students that was proposed due to pressure from
a small group of parents.
All was fine until the temperature soared past 90
earlier one week and another heat wave was coming. A
few boys had asked their teachers if they could swap their
long trousers for shorts. They were told “no”. Shorts
weren’t permitted under the school’s new dress code
policy.
When the class leaders protested that the girls were
allowed bare legs, the headmaster, no doubt joking, said,
“You boys are free to wear `proper length’ skirts too.”
So on Wednesday, when forecast was for 85 degrees; a
handful of boys braved the giggles and did so.
“Quite refreshing” was how one of the boys described
the experience.
Another said he rather enjoyed the “nice breeze” his
skirt had afforded him.
The scale of the rebellion increased on Thurday, when
at least 30 boys opted for the skirt option attire.
Ironically, the temperature had dropped to a more
manageable 70, but some boys said they had enjoyed the
freedom afforded by the skirts and that they might do it
again if the dress code wasn’t changed.
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The next heat wave, about 20 boys just showed up in
skirts. The headmaster told one tall boy that his skirt
was too short and exposed too much hairy leg. Some of
the swimmers who shaved their bodies gave out razors to
make sure the boys did not fall foul of any health and
beauty violations.
Some had borrowed skirts from girlfriends, or mothers,
others from sisters. A few had gone the extra mile and
shaved their legs. The hottest Spring days had led to a
bare-legged revolution.
About 30 boys, heads held high, showed up in proper
skirts. The headmaster did not complain, saying, “Many
schools are going to a uniform. No one wants that!
Besides, the girls are learning from the boys that really
short skirts and poor hygiene will not be accepted.”
The dress code would remain as written. The
headmaster felt the pendulum had swung so far to
untidiness that maybe something like this would shock
the student back to reality without a strict uniform.
It was decided then that during the last week in May,
(it being the last week of school before final exams) that
we would wear nothing but skirts and sweaters or blouses
to school. There were about fifteen in the core group and
we decided that the project would involve all of us or
none. Everyone agreed to participate in the stunt.
For some reason I tingled all over when this decision
was reached. When I told my parents about this stunt
they were all for it. Mother gave me several of her skirts
and tops to wear and they fit me perfectly.
On Monday when we went to school wearing skirts, we
were an instant success. All of the boys approved of our
action, as did most of the girls.
On Tuesday there were more boys than just our group
wearing skirts in school. Our idea was really catching on.
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The girls began to encourage us, and even dared us to go
further and add proper lingerie to our attire.
On Wednesday there wasn’t a hairy leg among us. We
were all wearing nylons, panties and slips under our
skirts. The girls involved encouraged us to “meet every
detail of the dress code.”
On Thursday mother had me put on a sheer silk
blouse, which allowed my lace slip to be seen, a very light
makeup, and even a pair of low-heeled girls shoes that
she had bought for me to wear. A number of the boys were
similarly attired and we all admitted that we were
enjoying our experiment.
On Friday we agreed to continue to wear our skirts to
exams the following week. Our little plan must have been
a success, because during exams, we heard the dress code
might be adjusted.
I don’t know if it was from the satisfaction I derived
from my attire or not, but I did better than ever in my
exams! I passed every subject with high grades!
That Sunday afternoon I was surprised to hear the
following suggestion from my mother. “Since Tuesday is
the final day of school and you must go to get your report
card and for closing exercises, how about doing it right
this time and go to school as the prettiest girl I can make
you?”
“What do you mean, mother?” I asked.
“I mean dressing you properly from the tip of your toes
to the top of your head. After all, you have been wearing
girls’ clothes to school for two weeks now, but never a
complete costume or with full makeup. Let me do a
complete job on you for one last fling. Besides, it is your
birthday and this will be a unique way to celebrate it.”
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I failed to see the logic of her reasoning, but the idea
thrilled me. Ever since that day in April, I had always
wanted to dress completely once more.
“How about it, Dad?” I asked.
Dad thought for a minute or two, and then said, “I
guess it is not that much different from what you’ve done
for two weeks.”
“OK, I’m game Mom,” I said.
With that, mother took me by the hand and led me
upstairs. “Do I have to start now?” I asked with surprise.
“This is only Sunday afternoon.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I have a lot of work to do to make
you into a presentable young lady.”
As I undressed she busily gathered some of her
clothes. “I think these will fit you just right,” she said.
First she had me put on silky nylon panties and a bra.
I had second thoughts about the bra, saying, “Gee mom,
I’ve worn panties to school before, do I have to wear a bra
too?”
“Of course dear, all girls your age wear them.” She had
me put it on, and then she filled it with cotton. Then came
the nylons, a slip, the shoes she had bought me, and
finally a robe.
Sitting me down at her vanity table she went to work
on my hair which was longer than it was in April. First
she trimmed off my already short sideburns up to where
the hair was long. Then she combed it evenly down both
sides and cut the long ends to make it even all around.
She then took me to the bathroom where she shampooed
and conditioned my hair thoroughly.
Back to her room we went where she put me under her
drier until my hair was just damp. Again she combed my
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hair and then started to put it up on rollers, applying a
hair setting lotion.
“Hey,” I said. “I didn’t bargain for this.”
“Oh, yes you did,” she replied. “You agreed to let me
make you the prettiest girl I possibly could and this is just
part of the process. I am going to give you a complete
home permanent so hold your head still.”
She worked with the rollers and lotion until every hair
was wound up, then she put me under her drier again.
While my hair was drying she started to pluck my
eyebrows until I thought that she had pulled them all out.
The thinly arched brows added a girlish softness to my
face.
My nails were next and she gave me a manicure,
trimming the cuticles and pushing them back to make the
nails appear longer, and filed them to a girlish shape. She
then applied two coats of pink polish.
By that time my hair was dry so she took the drier off
and gave me a pretty flower print dress to put on and
applied a light makeup. “We will leave your hair up
tonight,” she said, “and brush it out tomorrow to see what
it looks like,” she said.
When we went downstairs Dad looked at me and
grinned. “I see why your mom called you “Brenda.”
Dad calling me by my girls’ name again thrilled me to
no end.
I helped mother to prepare and serve dinner. She
criticized my movements and actions, telling me that I
must now start to act like a girl. She also complimented
me when I did things to her satisfaction. She was gently
but firmly molding and training me to act like a girl.
That night she gave me a pretty pink nylon gown to
wear over my panties and instructed me in the care of my
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clothes and removal of my makeup. It was quite awhile
before I dropped off to sleep, what with my hair up on
unaccustomed rollers, but when I finally dropped off, I
dreamt sweet dreams.
Monday morning when I got up I dressed in the same
clothes I had worn on Sunday. I again had to wear a bra
with the outfit.
Instead or applying my makeup for me, mother sat me
at her vanity and had me do it myself, coaching me when
necessary. I looked a bit silly, my face made up and my
hair still in curlers.
After I was made up to her satisfaction we had
breakfast and then she left me to make up the beds and
tidy up the house while she went shopping. She was gone
all morning and when she returned the car was loaded
with packages. I helped her carry them to her room but
she said nothing about their contents.
After we had lunch and washed the dishes she started
on my hair. She took out all of the rollers and then
brushed and combed my hair, with a little spraying, until
she was finally satisfied and stepped back to look me over
with a critical eye.
At that time the doorbell rang so she left me to look
over her creation in the mirror while she answered the
bell. I couldn’t get over my appearance. She had fixed my
hair into a beautiful wavy style, just right for a girl my
age. I looked just like any pretty teenage girl at school.
A voice from the living room brought me back to earth;
my mother calling me to come down.
When I went down I was surprised to see Kaylee there.
She had come over to borrow something and mother had
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told her about me. I turned a bright shade of red as she
looked me over.
“What do you think of our Brenda now?” mother asked.
“Well, he…I mean she...is absolutely beautiful,” Kaylee
said. “I didn’t dream that he could look so much like a
girl. But what is this all about?”
“Well, since he has been wearing girls’ clothes to school
for two weeks, I suggested that we go all out and really
make a girl out of him for the final day tomorrow. I even
bought some new things for him to wear. Here, Brenda,
put these on and get used to wearing them.” With that
she handed me a pair of bone colored pumps with threeinch
heels.
I sat down and slipped them on. I was a little
embarrassed by Kaylee’s stare when my skirt rode high
on my nylon-clad thighs. Still, I was enchanted with the
feeling the stilt heels gave me.
Mom announced, “His very first pair of high heeled
shoes. Walk around in them and see how they feel.”
After walking about in them, I finally got the hang of
walking in heels, with proper coaching from mother.
Kaylee suggested that I go over to her house so that her
mother and Tommy could see me.
“I don’t know. Should I go, mother?” I asked.
“Why not,” she replied. “You have on a pretty dress,
your hair looks lovely, and you make a beautiful girl.
There is nothing to be ashamed of, like any pretty girl, be
proud of your ‘look’. Show that you are not afraid to be
seen and people will not criticize you for dressing like a
girl. Besides, everyone will see you tomorrow so you may
as well get used to it today.”
She was right of course; everyone at school would see
me tomorrow. With a little more urging from Kaylee, I
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went with her. Again I was on Cloud 9 just to be outside
completely dressed as a girl.
A few of the neighbors were working in their yards but
nothing was said. I doubted they recognized me? I couldn’t
tell from their reactions. Soon we were at Kaylee’s house.
“Mother,” Kaylee called, “Come and see what you
think of our Brenda now.”
Mrs. Gault came and looked at me with a puzzled look
on her face, then her eyes lit up and she smiled in
recognition.
“If you had not called him Brenda I would not have
recognized him at all. Here, let me look at you. My word,
but you do make a lovely girl. That hairdo is absolutely
beautiful on you and makes all the difference in the world
in your appearance. Tommy, come here and see who is
visiting.”
When Tommy came in and saw me he was speechless.
He just stood there and gaped and gasped. Even though
he had dressed in a skirt that hot day in April, he had not
been in our group who had been wearing skirts to school.
Kaylee explained Mom’s plan for me on the last day of
school and all agreed that it might help change the dress
code.
Kaylee said, “Let’s dress Tommy up too!”
Tommy about died, saying, “No way.”
We all laughed. Kaylee then suggested that I go with
her and Tommy since she was driving their car to school.
I agreed.
Again after receiving compliments on my appearance,
I left.
Walking with someone else while outside and dressed
as a girl was one thing, but being by myself was another. I
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was totally conscious of my clothes and appearance. I
imagined that the whole neighborhood was staring at me
and whispering about me as I passed. I decided that I
better walk like a girl would, which wasn’t hard in my
new high heels.
I had no sooner entered our house than there was a
knock on our side door. It was Mrs. Woodside, the woman
who lived next door to us. “Was that your son who just
came in, dressed as a girl?” she asked mother.
“Yes,” she replied, “come in and see what you think of
our new daughter, Brenda.”
“Why, he looks absolutely stunning.” Mrs. Woodside
said when she saw me. “No wonder you called him
‘Brenda.’ No other name would do, and I will have to
remember to call you this and to think of you as a girl
when you’re dressed this way.”
“It is just for tomorrow, last day of class because….”
“I know that you have been wearing girls’ clothes to
school, along with some of the other boys, in order to
change the dress code. I was all for it.”
She continued, “I saw you coming down the street just
now and I was wondering who that strange girl was.
When I saw you enter your house without knocking it
suddenly dawned on me that it might be you. You really
do make a pretty girl with your hair in that lovely style.”
I explained, I was dressed in order to get used to my
clothes and my new high heels. Strangely enough, I felt
no embarrassment at all in talking to her while dressed
as a girl. In fact, I was enjoying this new experience.
“Well, I like seeing you dressed this way, Brenda dear,
she giggled, “Maybe you will do it more often and come
and visit with me while dressed. You make a lovely young
lady.”
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I thanked her for her compliments and the rest of the
afternoon was spent busying myself about the house. I
must admit that I couldn’t pass a mirror without stopping
to admire my appearance.
When Dad came home from the office he openly
beamed when he saw me and I found it very easy to talk
to him. I told him of my adventures that afternoon and of
my acceptance by Mrs. Woodside.
He cautioned, “To win acceptance you must never
show any guilt or be ashamed to be seen dressed as a
female. Just be proud that you can be such a lovely girl.”
The next morning mother woke me early, saying there
was a lot of work to do before going to school. I took my
shower and with a pretty robe on and a pair of mother’s
slippers on my feet, I had breakfast with my parents
before mother took me upstairs to get dressed.
First, she had me put on a lovely pair of lace trimmed
nylon panties and then handed me a regular girdle with a
high cinch type waistband. It even had pads sewn in at
the back and at the sides. As I was putting this on, Dad
came in to say goodbye to us.
He laughed at the gyrations I was going through while
putting on the girdle. “You look as funny as your mother
when putting on a girdle. Good luck with keeping your
skirt down.” After wishing me good luck, he had to leave
for the office.
With the girdle in place and hooked and zipped up, my
mid-section was pulled in so much that I could hardly
breathe. However, this and the pads gave me a much
more girlish shape.
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Satisfied at last with my appearance, she went to
her closet and took out a beautiful pink dress made
from a sheer “cream puff’ material. The dress fit
perfectly and emphasized my newly created curves.
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As I was hooking my bra, mother opened one of the
packages she had brought home the day before and
handed me a pair of realistic looking false breasts. With
these inserted in my bra, I had the proper bosom of a girl
and one that responded to every body movement.
A new pair of seamless nylons came next and then I
was given the prettiest lace trimmed, pink, nylon slip that
I had ever seen. I was swooning with pleasure from my
new shape and clothes.
Mother’s voice seemed to be coming from far off when
she told me to sit down at her vanity. This time she really
did a makeup job on me. Not only did she put on the usual
base, powder, rouge and a lipstick to match the color of
polish on my nails, but this time she added false
eyelashes, eyeliner and shadow, and outlined my already
femininely shaped brows with a pencil.
She then went to work on my hair and brushed and
combed it until it looked better than it did the day before.
Satisfied at last with my appearance, she went to her
closet and took out a beautiful pink dress made from a
sheer “cream puff’ material. The dress fit perfectly and
emphasized my newly created curves.
The high heels I had broken in yesterday, earrings and
matching necklace, her extra wristwatch and a spray of
her favorite perfume completed my costume. Taking a
new handbag that matched my shoes perfectly, she put in
her spare wallet with some “mad money,” several dainty
hankies, a comb, and a compact and lipstick “in case you
have to powder your nose and touch up your lips.”
At last, I was ready for school. Stepping back, she
looked me over carefully. I must have passed her
inspection because I saw tears forming in her eyes.
Suddenly tears of fear were forming in my eyes. The
pink dress seemed to rustle with my every move and the
FAMILY GONE GIRL I SANDY THOMAS PUBLICATIONS - 25
swishing silkiness of the material around my hips only
served furthered to remind me…I was going to be a sissy
girl in front of the entire school!
Suddenly mother hugged me and kissed me on the
cheek. “You are my girl today!”
Instinctively I returned her hugs and kisses and
whispered, “It’s a great joke…. Thank you for the help,
Mom.”
“Wait until tonight,” she whispered back.
We were still working on details when I heard Kaylee
and Tommy drive up and honk. Giving mother one last
hug, I hurried downstairs and out to the car.
When Kaylee and Tommy saw me, both of them
gasped at the same time. As I slid into the car, Kaylee
said, “Are you sure you aren’t really a girl? Brenda
Owens, I think you will be the prettiest girl in school
today. I’m jealous.”
Arriving at school, Kaylee parked the car and we
walked toward the building. Everyone we met stared at
me but no one recognized me. I could see that they were
wondering who this new girl was. My pulse quickened,
feeling a fresh surge of excitement and a twisty little tug
of anxiety.
“They all think I’m a girl.” I needlessly commented.
Kaylee laughed, “And when the boys find out, you are
going to have a tough time keeping your skirt down.”
Kaylee walked with me to my homeroom and added,
“This is your day, Brenda. Don’t be nervous. Remember
that you are a girl and expected to be treated like a
beautiful one. Knock ‘em dead.”
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With those words of encouragement I entered my
homeroom, went to my regular seat, placed my purse on
top of my desk and sat down, smoothing my skirt under
as I did so. Immediately I heard a buzzing in my ears and
I knew that the whispering was about me.
Everyone in the room was staring at me. Our
homeroom teacher came in and started to call the roll for
attendance. When she called “Brendan Owens,” I did not
answer. Looking directly at me she asked me to please
stand and give my name. Boldly I stood up and said, “For
today my name is Brenda Owens.”
Now there was no doubt as to who I was. The whole
class started to laugh and then burst into applause. It
was their way of giving me their approval.
When the applause subsided I sat down and roll call
was continued. As soon as it was over everyone gathered
around me and started to question me at once. I explained
as best I could that after wearing skirts to school for two
weeks, I simply wanted to find out what it was like to be
fully dressed as a girl, and that the last day of school
seemed to be the perfect day to find out.
The girls all agreed that I made a very pretty girl and
they fussed over my dress and makeup. They remarked
about my pretty slip, which could be plainly seen through
my sheer dress, and asked what I had on under it.
Unashamedly I told them what my undies consisted of.
The boys only stared in disbelief.
The bell rang to begin our abbreviated class periods,
during which we were to get our report cards. In each
class, when my name was called, I boldly answered that
my name for the day was “Brenda Owens” and that I was
accepting the report card for “Brendan.”
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The teachers did not seem to mind this at all and gave
me my cards without question. They even complimented
me on my appearance and fine taste in clothes. They
remarked to their classes that it was too bad that the PTA
had that crazy dress code. They hoped that the next
school year would bring a general overhaul.
After each class was over, the girls gathered around
me to admire my dress, my figure, my hairdo and my
makeup. The boys would just whistle or would be
speechless. No derogatory remarks were made towards
me. I seemed to have been accepted as “Brenda Owens” by
my classmates as well as by the faculty.
By the end of the class day, I needed to pee but knew I
had to wait out the day with clasped knees. At times
there was a flaming red blush of excitement on my
cheeks. At times I held my breath as I felt the tight “V” of
my silky girdle’s nylon gusset and its smooth hug of the
soft flesh of my inner thigh.
After the final class, I met Kaylee in the hallway.
Quite a crowd gathered around me to talk to me and ask
questions like I was from outer space. I answered each
question truthfully. Finally Kaylee led me away, saying
that she had to go to the girl’s room and assumed I
wanted to go with her.
I objected to going into this girl’s inner sanctum, but
she took me by the hand and pulled me in, overriding my
objections and protests. “LOOK, you are dressed like a
girl and look like one; you may as well do the things that
girls do.”
Once inside I felt uneasy about being there, but the
girls who were there made me feel welcome. Kaylee said,
“We can’t have Brenda going into the boy’s room, can we
girls?”
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The girl’s all nodded and sent me into a private stall.
“Keep your feet pointed out!” I heard one tease. That put
me at my ease and after I found myself talking to them as
if I was a girl and belonged in the ladies room.
I carefully combed my hair while standing in front of
the mirror and touched up my makeup, much to the
delight of the other girls. Kaylee proudly said, “Yeah, he’s
one of us now.”
We were engaged in girl talk when one of the sloppily
attired girls came in. She was obviously surprised when
she saw me there and remarked sneeringly, “I bet you’re
even wearing panties?”
“Certainly I have on panties,” I replied. “Every girl
wears them and mine are clean.”
Taken back, she continued, “Do you have a girdle on
too?”
“Yes,” I said, with a girlishly bitchy tone, “you could
use one too.”
She left in a huff and the girls all laughed at this
perfect epilogue to the boys dressing pretty. Besides,
there was no use trying to hide the fact that I was
wearing lingerie just like them. And there was something
about being included in a group of girls that was really
exciting.
We all gossiped for a while longer, but when Kaylee
wanted to leave, they would not let me go until I showed
them my undies. One of the girls lifted her skirt and
showed me hers and more than a bit embarrassed, I hiked
up my dress and showed them my slip, panties and girdle.
They wanted to know all about my falsies and my curves.
One girl asked. “Do you like wearing dresses to
school?”
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I blushed and looked at Kaylee. All the girls were
looking into my eyes. My face felt hot and I was suddenly
speechless. I felt my pulse leap.
“It’s sort of fun,” I admitted. “I almost wish there was
another day of school…NOT!”
They all laughed, but my stomach was still tied in
knots. I had almost admitted I liked wearing dresses to a
bunch of girls!
And so it went on for a few more minutes, as we all
talked about makeup, hair and from time-to-time, how I
felt being in skirts. There was the thrill of sharing these
girl’s experiences; simply unparalleled.
When it was time to go and as protection from the boys
always hanging around outside the girl’s room, we walked
as a group to the cars. When I said goodbye, the girls
thanked me for dressing up. One of them teased that she
hoped to see more of “Brenda” during the summer.
Kaylee, Tommy and I laughed so hard on the way
home that Kaylee had trouble driving. When we arrived
home, they both came in for lunch.
Mother asked, “Well, honey, did my girl enjoy herself
today?”
“I really did. It was a great experience and I am glad
that you talked me into doing it so completely.” I turned
to Tommy and said, “Mother made me do it.”
“Sure, she did,” he smiled knowingly.
I had to tell Mother every little detail of the day with
Kaylee adding her impressions. She told mother, “He was
really cute and did a lot of blushing. But I could tell he
loved it. Look at that pretty smile on his face.”
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She was right, just the thought of my day in a dress
sent a strange warm feeling through my body.
“Honey?” mother asked, with a mischievous tone. “So,
would do it again?”
Admitting that I would in front of Tommy and the two
women gave me strange, scary feelings…exciting feelings.
I sheepishly lowered my eyes and my fingertips toyed idly
with the hem of my skirt.
Kaylee said, “He should. Nothing about him was like
a boy. He was sweet and there was no sign of that boy
aggressiveness and that fearlessness that teen boys
project.” She glared at her brother. “Most boys are like
roosters. In a dress, Brendan radiated beauty, confidence
and poise. It’s nice that ONE boy enjoys beautiful clothes
and understands a girl’s life.”
“I never thought I’d ever enjoy doing this,” I admitted
as Tommy rolled his eyes.
After Kaylee and Tommy left for home mother said to
me, “Please don’t change your clothes yet, Brenda.” Then
she looked at me with an inquisitive grin. “You like the
idea of me treating you like my daughter, right?”
“Yeah, I do, it’s fun. I’m not sure why,” I admitted.
“Then stay dressed as you are so that your father can
see you when he gets home. And I have something else to
tell you. Everything you have on is yours. Those clothes
and accessories were bought just for you…they are a
birthday gift to you.”
I was so confused but hugged her. Then it sunk in. “I
actually hoped I was getting a new baseball mitt. You are
giving me a dress and lingerie? I don’t know when I’d
wear them again?”
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She said, “We have been sharing a much different
bond. I think your dress is beautiful and you seem to love
it. If you keep your legs shaved, you could be my
`daughter’ sometimes.”
“I can’t believe you are giving me a dress.”
“You like it, right?”
“Yeah!” I was so thrilled that my eyes got misty.
Which for a boy, is like sobbing hysterically out of joy.
“Thank you mother. It’s a perfect birthday gift that I
never imagined I wanted.” Then I gasped, “Oh gawd. Is
there something wrong with me?”
Mother just smiled and said, “No, Honey. You are
simply doing something that you enjoy. You look lovely in
the dress and it would be a shame to hide all of that
beauty. Don’t you agree? You have my permission to
wear your girl clothes whenever you wish.”
I was confused. I’d never had a “girl clothes” option. I
asked, “So like on weekends or something?”
Mother laughed, “No. Just whenever you don’t know
what to put on, you now have the option of wearing a
pretty dress and all that goes with it.”
“Should I ask you?”
“No, they are your clothes. Like most other things,
you’ll get more comfortable with time.”
When a mother gives her son a dress and lingerie, it
sparks strong emotions. All boys want to be the “little
man” in their mother’s life but she was suggesting I could
be “her girl” too.
“So Mother, I could put on a dress for `no reason’?
Won’t everybody laugh? Does Dad know you gave me a
dress?”
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“We’ll have to see how he handles it,” mom said. “No
one will laugh. You just wore a dress to school and had a
great time. If you want to wear your dress, you have to
get used to people seeing you. So no more worry for
today…just keep your dress on so your father can see.”
So he can see his completely sissy son,” I said with a
self-deprecating laugh.
“Don’t think like that. Kaylee isn’t a sissy. You are
not going to be a sissy just because you wear a pretty
dress.”
There was no use defending my masculinity as I
looked at my birthday gifts. I didn’t want to show it, but I
was having the time of my life.
SHOW YOUR DAD!
When Dad came home, I was surprised that he seemed
so delighted to see me still wearing girl clothes. He
complimented me, “You make a very attractive young
lady! It’s like I have a daughter! Should I call you
Brenda?”
I nodded but this remark rather surprised me coming
from my father, but I did not say anything.
We had a pleasant early dinner and, as before, I
helped mother. Again, I had to tell them about my day in
school and Dad was as interested as mother was in every
little detail. Dad asked, “I bet your buddies were shocked
to find out you have such good legs? Anybody ask you
out?”
I blushed but we all laughed.
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When Dad came home, I was surprised that he
seemed so delighted to see me still wearing girl
clothes.
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After dinner was over, dad turned on the television to
a loud baseball game. Mother said, “Instead of some
game, come upstairs with me, Brenda. I think I have
another surprise for you.”
I followed her to her room where she told me to
undress, cream the makeup off my face and take a
shower. When I came back to her bedroom wearing a
towel, she handed me a brand new pair of panties. They
were full cut, brief style panties with a lace-trimmed
panel in front. She smiled, “I bought these for you this
morning.”
“This morning?”
“I’ll turn my back. Just slip them on.”
I tried to take Pi to the tenth digit as I slipped the soft
thin layers of nylon up my smooth legs, getting some nonfeminine
sensations again. I quickly tucked everything
well back in the close-fitting gusset of my new panties.
I shivered as mother asked, “I hope you don’t mind me
buying you extra panties? I bought an identical pair for
me too.”
I shrugged as I put on my same girdle, a lighter shade
of nylons and, much to my surprise, a new bra that
matched the panties. Only on this bra, mother removed
the thin straps.
“This is a strapless bra but you keep the straps with
the bra.”
“Strapless?” I gasped. “I can think of two reasons
THAT will not work on me.
Mother laughed, “You think you are the first schoolgirl
with that problem? See, there is a wide, broad band to
encourage you to hold your shoulders straight and not
hunch. The support comes from the band and that is
what keeps your bust up.”
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When my falsies were put in this bra, the flesh of my
chest was pushed up above the top of my bra, creating a
rather realistic looking cleavage.
“WOW!” I said. “I’m learning so many “girl” secrets.”
“Well, you made your first trip the girl’s room. Bras
and breasts are everyday talk there. Next time you go,
you can stand up straight, giggle, and brag about your
bras!”
I nearly swooned at the notion of any future ladies
room visits. Mother said, “You need to ask me if you
have any questions about anything. Comfortable?”
“It feels amazing, like a hug,” I said.
She laughed, “You may have never guessed it, but I’m
only a B cup, but proud of it! Flat or busty, one of the
benefits of wearing the right bra is confidence. I’ll teach
you what bra to wear with what. The idea is to fill out a
dress and shape your bust for an overall attractive
appearance.”
“I really don’t need many bras,” I laughed.
“Do you want to know how many bras I have?” as she
walked over to her lingerie drawer and opened it. She
giggled, “I don’t know…. Do I have enough? Never. Bras
and panties can be fabulous gifts!”
“I know that now,” I laughed. “Not sure when I’ll wear
what I have?”
“Pretty panties make me feel good all the time,” she
said.
I blushed as mother talked about her intimate apparel
in a most unaccustomed way. It was not a mother/son
chat but should have been mother/daughter. She told me
her bra size and what style cup she preferred to create a
nice swell of smooth cleavage. I guess I now noticed her
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beautiful bosom, so full and shapely that she always
concealed within the protection of a bra.
Mother showed me her favorite style of everyday
panties…a super soft, semi-sheer, nylon brief with classic
style, dainty lace overlay at the legs. “I think you’ll find
they are fun to wear,” she smiled.
“Fun to wear panties everyday...like a girl?” I thought.
“I know you’ll like wearing panties and you’ll need more if
you wear them every day?”
“I’m not sure I’ll want to do that,” I answered honestly.
Mom said, “Just try it and see if you like it? You need
get used to wearing them everyday without feeling selfconscious
or excited.”
I blushed; they were exciting. Mother said softly,
“Girl’s lingerie can be very exciting for boys. You have
very pretty panties and at some point, you’ll feel they are
just your underwear.”
“How do we do that?” I blushed.
“As a boy, wearing panties can be a little tricky,
especially as you get used to them.”
It was like mother couldn’t talk enough lingerie but
finally handed me a white nylon half-slip. I refused to
have any thoughts of resisting as butterflies skittered
inside my belly. The slip had a rose embroidered at the
hem and I wanted to ask if that was mine too. I tried not
to think it wasn’t.
Then she gave me a pair of silver evening heels with
three-inch heels.
I placed my feet into the strappy slippers and giggled
as I saw my little painted toes peaking out the front of the
shoe. There had to be some catch, I asked again, “So
these are mine too?”
FAMILY GONE GIRL I SANDY THOMAS PUBLICATIONS - 37
Mother smiled, “Your panties, your bra, your girdle,
your stockings, your slip, your dress and your high heels.
All for you to enjoy.”
I had never imagined a birthday like this. I was still
floating from my day at school when mother said, “Let me
pretty up your face and we’ll go show your father.”
She then went to work on my face and gave me a
glamorous makeup job, using different shades of
cosmetics than she had used before. She even arranged
my hair in a different style, more suitable for evening
wear than for daytime.
When everything was to her satisfaction she brought
out the crowning glory, a beautiful aqua evening gown in
a waltz length, made of sheer chiffon and with yards and
yards of material in the skirt.
The gown fit my new padded form perfectly and
exposed my “bosom” above it. She then gave me her good
watch to wear and long dangling earrings with matching
necklace and bracelet. Her most intoxicating perfume was
applied and I was ready. Ready for what I did not know,
but I did not question her.
As I posed in front of her full-length mirror and turned
about, I was amazed at the beautiful girl who was looking
back at me, but I felt a little embarrassed about my
girlish nakedness. I had a strange feeling, standing there
with my bare arms and shoulders and with my bosom
showing. It was a funny feeling that I could not quite
explain to mother or wanted to try. I looked like a girl
ready to go to a formal dance or to a party.
She sensed what was going on inside of me and told
me to just walk around the room and check the mirror
until I got used to myself.
Meanwhile Mother started to change her dress and
makeup. Surprisingly, in front of me, she began to
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unbutton her blouse and kicked off her shoes. She
dexterously unbuttoned her skirt and unzipped the
zipper, pulled her skirt down, bringing her own half-slip
down with it.
I turned my back but there were mirrors everywhere.
She turned herself as she changed into a different lacecovered
bra; her hands in front of her peek-a-boo fashion.
“I love this bra,” she said, pointing, “The cups push my
breasts together, creating an eye-catching cleavage.”
My eyes looked and I said, “You have a great figure.”
“So do you, honey,” she giggled, raising the pitch of her
voice.
As she dressed, I walked about the room, getting used
to the high heels. My full skirt made a lovely swishing
sound when I walked.
“Boy stuff is so boring,” I said as she slipped on her
black evening dress. I got a thrill when she asked me to
help zip up the back of her dress. When she was satisfied
with her appearance, she asked me how I felt.
“Shocked, I guess, mother.” I said.
Mother said, “You’ve had a big day. You went to
school today in a dress and now you are in yet another
prettier dress.”
“I like the way I look in this kind of a dress and I am
getting used to my nakedness, but why am I dressed like
a girl going to her senior prom? What are you planning for
me tonight?”
“Why, this is your birthday, dear,” she replied. “I
couldn’t resist dressing you this way in order to celebrate
your real birthday, and at the same time we can celebrate
your ‘birthday’ as our daughter, Brenda Owens. Come,
now.” With that she took me by the hand and led me to
the stairs.
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Everything was quiet as we went down the stairs, but
as soon as we reached the living room I was shocked to
hear a chorus of voices shouting “Surprise!”
When I recovered sufficiently I looked about and saw
most of our immediate relatives, a number of our
neighbors and most of my close friends and a few
classmates from school.
Faintly I heard mother’s voice as she said, “Folks, I
want you to meet our new daughter, Brenda Owens.” It
was just like a debutante’s coming out party. In fact, that
is just what mother was doing with me. She was
presenting me to the public as her daughter, “Brenda
Owens.” A new girl was born that night.
Everyone gathered around me and everyone started to
talk at once. I had to turn and pose like a model so that
every one could see me from all angles. They all
complimented me on my appearance and my girlishness.
I just loved hearing them say how feminine I looked,
but at the same time I began to feel embarrassed
appearing before my relatives and friends dressed as I
was.
Kaylee came over to me and took my hand, kissing me
lightly on the cheek as she whispered in my ear until I
calmed down. Soon I found myself reacting naturally as if
I were a girl.
Presents were given to me and I had to open them all
and show them to everybody. To my surprise, I received
many nice feminine things such as jewelry and costume
accessories, purses, hose, etc., and even some items of
lingerie.
Kaylee gave me a beautiful white nylon slip, lavish
with lace, and everyone laughed at my embarrassment
when I took it out of the box and showed it to the group.
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A couple of my boyfriends gasped in the corner when I
opened a bra and panty set from Mrs. Woodside. I
realized it was too late to try to defend my masculinity so
by the time I had everything opened, I was enjoying
myself tremendously and I felt no more embarrassment
whatsoever.
Mother and my aunts prepared a buffet table, records
were put on the stereo and soon we were dancing. I think
I was asked to dance by everyone there, even by my boy
friends.
Dad took his turn in dancing with me and said, “You
look so beautiful honey and you follow very well. Are you
enjoying your surprise party?”
For an answer, I kissed him fully on his lips like a
daughter would, much to everyone’s glee. I whispered,
“Thank you for understanding. I feel like Cinderella.”
“When did my little boy grow up?” Dad laughed, “The
transformation is amazing.” He seemed pleased with my
role-playing. When dad spun me around, I felt like a
princess.
Kaylee danced with me as much as she could and was
always at my side, paying me every special attention.
My boy friends extended me every courtesy for taking
the school dress code joke so far. They treated me as if I
was really a girl and I enjoyed talking to them, even
dancing with a couple.
FAMILY GONE GIRL I SANDY THOMAS PUBLICATIONS - 41
“Don’t be silly, I couldn’t possibly pass as a girl
for that length of time. These heels are already
killing me!”
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Towards the end of the party, my Uncle Al, who was
the head of one of our town’s department stores, said
slowly, “I have an announcement to make. I’d like to offer
my new little niece a job…in my store…as a sales
girl…for the entire summer!”
Everyone laughed and applauded. I blushed and was
stunned by his offer. Of course, I declined it immediately,
saying, “Don’t be silly, I couldn’t possibly pass as a girl for
that length of time. These heels are already killing me!”
“Now you know what we women have to put up with,”
my Aunt said. “You should take the job.”
Immediately every one spoke up and insisted that I
accept his offer. I wasn’t sure they were joking or what?
I asked my Uncle, “Are you serious? I guess I could be
a stock boy.”
“No, Brenda. I need a salesgirl.” He said, “Com’ on.
From what I see, you can carry off the deception with
ease.”
Confused, I turned to my parents for help. They both
nodded and mother said, “What a unique experience…and
with a good salary!” They both insisted that I accept the
offer.
Apprehensively, (and mostly just to shut down the
conversation) I finally (and jokingly) accepted my uncle’s
offer, innocent of what that really meant.
Everyone applauded my decision and my uncle said, “I
will expect ‘Brenda’ in my office at nine o’clock Monday
morning. Don’t be late!”
As the party broke up, all the guests said, “I guess we
will be seeing more of Brenda Owens.”
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After everyone had gone I threw my arms about my
mother and cried, “My uncle? That was a joke, right?”
“No,” she said, “Your Uncle was impressed and loved it
that you accepted the challenge. He’s been having a
problem with his female employees not dressing nicely
and up to their dress code. He figured if it worked for
your school….”
“Oh, mother, this is silly! I couldn’t wear high heels
everyday!”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” she said. “You
like dressing up as a girl…that is obvious. Wouldn’t you
like to try it a little longer? A few more days or maybe the
entire summer?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed between sobs, “Tonight was
fun, especially after the way I was accepted tonight. How
could I possibly do it?”
“Now, now, Brenda,” she said as she blotted away my
tears. “You are already acting like a girl. Just imagine
you being the darling girl you were tonight. Imagine
another day and another day…and for the entire summer.
Besides, this will be a good way for you to earn money for
your college education.”
I asked, “What about my baseball league? I guess I
could play ball on weekends?”
“Forget about baseball. Do you think you can put on
and take off nail polish twice a day? No, you’ll be living
as a girl twenty-four hours a day. Forgetting your ‘boy
stuff’ will be challenging but you can do it.”
“This is silly. So I’d just start living like a girl?”
“Tomorrow I will start you on an intensive training
course to teach you all about girls and how to act like one.
By Monday you will be ready to face the world in dresses
and those awful heels.”
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Dad was quiet but he added his reassurances, “You
can play baseball any summer. Besides, you haven’t kept
up with the young men in the developing department. You
are still shorter, your voice is higher and you carry your
weight at your hips…this could be a very special summer
in skirts.”
“Yeah, I’m not even sure I’d make the first team,” I
sighed.
Dad laughed, “So second string, second baseman, or
first string salesgirl?”
“I’m shocked,” I gasped. “I’m actually thinking doing
girl stuff could be fun. So I just start doing girl stuff?”
“You are already doing it,” Dad said, winking at
mother. “Maybe we can add a few more surprises before
long.”
Mother just winked back and smiled.
As I was taking my pretty party dress off, mother
walked into my bedroom and gave me one more gift. It
was a somewhat short, pink baby doll nightgown with
matching panties and a sheer cover up robe. Mother
said, “Your father thinks it’s too sexy for a young girl, but
what does he know?”
The three piece, baby doll style was so beautiful. It
had two sheer layers; one of soft nylon, the second of a
gauzier material and the matching robe was sheer nylon
with big puff sleeves and a pink ribbon tie. Most eyecatching
were the extremely frilly, full cut nylon panties.
“Oh mother,” I gasped. “I can’t let dad see me in this?”
“You are more covered up than you think,” she giggled.
“Now come help your father and me clean up the kitchen.”
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I was sure he’d laugh out of control at me but so far
he’d accepted my playing dress up. But this nightgown
just screamed, “SISSY” as it sat on my bed for me to
admire the sparkling pink lace embroidered at the bust.
I put it on and it felt so nice, the way the layers hung
in front made it look like my breasts had started to swell.
It felt so nice, like a cool rush of liquid spilled over my
body. I looked in the mirror and felt like dancing but just
put on more lip gloss.
Once in my nightgown and the barely there robe, I
reluctantly went to help clean up after the party.
When dad saw me, he looked at me strangely and I
folded my arms across my breasts. He said, “Sorry to
stare but I’m not seeing any of my son.”
Mother laughed, “Get used to it. We are going to have
a daughter for a while. That means getting him into the
whole look, not just dresses but hair, make-up and sweet
little nighties too.”
Dad laughed without hesitation, “Sounds like a girls’
dream world.”
“Or a boy’s nightmare,” I said blushing.
Mother laughed, “Come on, honey, don't be shy. You
are going to be just as pretty as any girl your age.”
Before going to bed, I kissed them both and asked
what new surprises they had in store for me. They just
smiled and said, “Wait and see.”
Okay, maybe you have read stories of a boy waking up
after a night like mine. The boy is wearing a beautiful
baby doll nightgown. His mother comes in and sees her
beautifully disheveled son and says, “Young lady, you are
amazing!” She leans over and kisses him lightly on the
forehead.
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Well, this is what really happened the “morning after”.
I woke up and was groggy and I had not removed my
makeup very well.
When I glanced over at the mirror, I looked awful! My
hair was everywhere and smelling like old, stale perfume.
A little discouraged with the morning after being
Cinderella, I got up and stumbled across my image in the
mirror. I was not cute in anyway and all of a sudden, I
felt...not normal. I felt nothing like that sweet birthday
girl from the night before.
And I what was I going to do now? I realized I was
feeling like a complete fool. I went from a euphoric high
of being the most beautiful girl in the world, admired by
all, to a boy in a silly nightgown.
Everyone else at the party; their life was continuing as
usual today, but not mine.
I was totally confused, trying to remember every
conversation. What had I agreed to? I had woken up
facing a different kind of world. I wasn’t really prepared
to be a girl full-time…that was pretty obvious. But last
night, I’d been told by more than a few that I should try it
and I’d had a few days of going through the motions of
being a girl.
But waking up in a girlie nightgown with my lingerie
about my bedroom was ominous. I wasn’t sure what I
should do. I knew no one could make me do anything,
even if I’d agreed last night.
Mother heard me and came in. “Well, young lady, are
you ready to begin your training?”
I stammered, “Joke is over. I don’t think so….”
Mom put her hand up to stop me from talking. “Look,
we’ll take this one minute at a time. Get dressed. Be
sure to put the jelled inserts in your bra. Then, put on
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YOUR skirt, blouse, and a tad of makeup and lipstick.
Then, we’ll talk about it.”
Then she kissed me on the forehead and said, “Brenda
honey, we just need to get you into a skirt again. One day
at a time.”
I had a shameful guilty feeling but felt that heartpumping
throbbing sensation. I was scared; you know the
feeling. Fear that starts in the pit of your stomach and
runs in pulsing little waves as I realized I would do what
she said.
“Mom,” I mumbled, running my hands down my
nightie. “Are those really my clothes?”
After I had dressed, combed my hair and applied a
light makeup, we talked…as my “girl training” began in a
constructive and nurturing environment. Make-up, hair
products, and learning to make me more “attractive” were
going to be my new life.
Mother said, “First, some woman’s work.”
Mother began working on me inside and out as we
made up the beds and went about her daily chores. She
coached me on how to raise my voice a bit, to speak more
slowly and softly, how to walk and sit as a girl, and how to
hold my hands.
At lunch, she showed me how to eat as a girl. Some
actions and mannerisms felt odd but she made me repeat
them over and over until I could do them automatically.
She was a strict critic but a fair one. She said that I
only had five days to learn what a girl learns in years.
Never did she ask if I changed my mind.
My Uncle called and said, “I’m counting on you to do
this right. I’ve already set up a “pre-loaded super”
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discount account for you here in the store. This is going to
be fun!”
After lunch, I changed dresses, and Mom took me
shopping. I didn’t want to go, but she said, “You might as
well start getting out. A working girl needs lots of clothes
and you need to go along to try things on and make sure
that they fit.”
Kaylee came over as we were ready to leave, and
laughed, “I really didn’t think you would go through with
this. Can I go and make sure your mother doesn’t buy
you “old lady” clothes?”
Mom laughed and said, “Thanks! First, you can teach
him how a girl gets into and out of a car gracefully.” She
immediately started offering me other valuable hints.
I was a little hesitant when we walked into the store
but I followed the ladies into the “Miss” dress section.
“This is where you belong,” Kaylee said.
I blushed but realized she meant size wise. I glanced
at myself in a large mirror and saw a mother and two
girls. I certainly was looking like a girl.
“Hey?” Kaylee teased, “The dresses are over here, not
in the mirror.”
I felt my skirt swish back and forth as we walked
about the racks of pretty things. I couldn't believe how
much I was enjoying the cool nylon slip caressing my legs.
Mom asked, “Are you ready to make a commitment?
Once we start buying you dresses, I expect you to wear
them.”
I looked her straight in the eye, “Oh gawd, I don’t
know.”
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Mother smiled and said, “Say the words…buy me a
dress.”
“I think I’d like to try on a couple…nothing too fancy?”
Mother said, “We are here to buy you `go to work’
dresses.”
I stammered, “Seriously, I don’t need many…or really
any….” I was suddenly worried that I was making the
wrong decision and was about to fight it, but I could feel
the sensation of panties on my rounded bottom.
“Next summer…maybe next summer, I might…” I
gasped, wondering how I ever got this close to spending
the summer in a dress. I don’t know what came over me.
There I was at the mall in a dress! Mother was looking at
me like she was tuning in to hypnotizing me.
Our eyes met again. “Honey,” she said, “I know you
are a little scared but you look like you are having fun.”
I could feel my boyish will quickly slipping away as I
looked around at the pretty, soft and colorful fabrics. I
was wavering, and I realized there might never be a “next
summer” or a more perfect opportunity.
In a very soft, sincere whisper, mother said, “I think
you'd really like wearing some of these dresses. Maybe I
can buy you one? Another birthday present from me?”
I was breathing nervously. My resolve was weakening
as I was starting to consider maybe one dress. But one
dress might turn into two and then an everyday work
wardrobe. I was on the verge of giving in and like a
hungry hawk; mother sensed it.
“Brenda, please allow me the honor of buying my most
beautiful daughter a dress or two….” Mother picked a
dress from the rack and held it up to my chest. It was a
luscious satiny dress with the trim finished in a charming
lace and had a rounded neckline and nipped waist.
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“Or this one?” She held up a simple one tone but
satiny “work” dress with a chiffon panel encircling the
skirt’s hem. “You could dress this up or down with
accessories.”
I drew a long breath; my fingers touched the soft
fabric. “Oh my,” I sighed, “that is very nice.”
My heart was thumping in my chest. There was a long
pause as I stood there, my mind racing, toying with the
decision because at that very moment I knew I was going
to be wearing dresses for the summer.
“I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t
want to do,” Mother said. “You need to say those
words….”
“Okay, buy me a dress. Maybe two.”
“Good,” she smiled, wrapping an arm around my
shoulder. “Let’s get you going. Kaylee already has a
couple of really cute dresses for you to try on….”
At first I was reluctant to enter a fitting room to try on
the dresses, but Mother said, “For all intents, you are a
girl now and these are going to be your dresses. You
might as well try them on.” The notion intrigued me.
With mom and Kaylee to guide me, everything went
smoothly. They seemed to enjoy themselves as they
picked out my dresses. Funny, the first discussion was to
get into an argument over the hem length of a dress.
Mother thought I should be wearing my hemlines just
below the center of my thigh like hers. Kaylee wanted the
hems to be well above the center of the thigh, like hers.
Funny, they never consulted me.
I was like a drunk as we shopped. Mom bought me
enough shoes of all styles, hose and even lingerie to last
all summer. Kaylee was a great help with the selection of
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dresses, skirts and blouses, as she knew what girls of our
age were wearing.
I found myself in areas that are off limits to males.
Most shocking was shopping for bras.
Mother said, “When you buy a new bra it must fit you
comfortably on the first row of hooks. As you wear them,
they will stretch and you can then fasten your bra on the
tighter rows to compensate.”
Kaylee nodded and I blushed. They were actually
talking about me wearing out a bra?
As mother gathered handfuls of bras for me to try on,
she never stopped coaching, “It's the elastic that keeps
your bra snug against your body and gives support to your
bosom. You should only wear the same bra once every few
days.”
It was sheer delight to select other intimate items of
feminine apparel such as slips, panties, baby doll
pajamas, nightgowns, shoes, slippers, etc.
Mother also bought me a complete set of makeup and
hair setting items (with Kaylee’s youthful color input and
guidance.) I suddenly realized I would not be leaving my
house without makeup (or a bra).
At home, I’d just put on some lipstick but the rest of
the summer’s outing would require powder, eye shadow,
mascara, and lipstick to look nice.
It was a nice day. For hours, it was all about me. I
must have tried on a zillion different outfits that all
hugged, squeezed and caressed my feminized body in
different ways. When Kaylee complimented my
appearance, mother put them in the pile to buy.
Sometimes they argued as I stood looking in the mirror
like a bride to be.
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There I was, standing with my mother and Kaylee,
listening to them discuss whether a skirt was “hot or not”
on my bottom. Kaylee talked about her boyfriends and
what they liked. She would tease me, “If you buy that
dress, I’m keeping my boyfriends away from you!”
Mother laughed, but bought me the dress. She told
me, “Okay honey, from now on, these are your things. At
times you might feel competitive with Kaylee but I will
expect you to dress and behave as a proper young lady.”
Make up, hair curlers, high heels and lingerie were to
be my summer’s uniform.
I was trying to be confident as a sissy and overcome
my sense of self-consciousness. Yes, I was a boy in a dress
but was starting to get over it. It was all just too much
fun.
When we returned home the car was crammed with
packages.
BOY CLOTHES…OUT.
The first thing Mom wanted to do when we returned
home was to remove all of my boy clothes.
“All of them?” I asked.
“How many girls want boy clothes in their closet?
None…so off they go to the storage.”
As I put my boy underwear in a box, I realized that a
moment of truth neared. A wisp of fear was squirming its
way into my stomach.
“Honey,” mother said, “Shall we put your panties and
bras in the same drawer?”
“I think it will be all right,” I sighed, putting the bras
in the drawer. I felt an excited feeling, so intensely
different then handling my boy things. We carefully put
my new wardrobe away.
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“How many girls want boy clothes in their
closet? None…so off they go to the storage.”
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“So Honey,” mother asked as we finished. “It looks
like you are ready now to begin a summer you will never
forget?”
“Uh-huh.” My eyes drifted to my closet and the dresses
hanging… “I’m a little embarrassed and scared, but the
thought of it takes my breath away.”
“At times it’s going to be a little bewildering but I
know you can handle it….” Mom gave my hand a loving
squeeze, and my eyes drifted back my newly feminized
bedroom. Tears came to my eyes and she saw them.
She whispered softly, “Be careful dear. The thrills and
disappointments of being a girl can open a floodgate of
emotions,” she whispered. “You are going to have bad hair
days and other days think you are in heaven. It’s all part
of being a girl.” And as if to impart the message, her
warm fingers squeezed mine again. Mother seemed to be
reading my mind and seeing into my very soul.
“I guess dressing like a sissy for a few months can’t
hurt me too much?” I joked.
“It’ll be special. I bet the memories this summer will
always be in your mind. Little things will jog your
memory; like seeing an ad for a dress or bra.” Suddenly,
her mood shifted. Her voice softened and she looked
intently, into my eyes, “Honey, listen carefully. Don’t feel
embarrassed and never apologize.”
Mom took the last box to storage, and when she left me
alone in my room, I let out a deep breath. She had just
carried away my last link to boy life and I obviously loved
the sensation. My head was spinning. Part of me wanted
to scream at her to come back with my boy stuff. I even
felt like crying to release the tension…to cry like a little
girl.…
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Now what? I looked in the mirror, there was a blush
of confusion on my cheeks and a tear had run my
mascara. I fixed my eyes and added a coat of gloss to my
lips. I ran my hands over my skirt and felt my panties
pulled over my curvy rump.
I stopped to pee before helping mother in the kitchen.
Learning to sit with my knees pressed together and hold
up my skirt up was new. I resisted even though
somewhere in my subconscious lurked a primal urge to
“stand and point” like a boy. Would that inclination go
away even though I had that physical capacity to stand.
Despite that, I sat down to pee. I don't understand why
other men stand to pee - why would you want to splash
everywhere? I also liked sitting to take a breather.
Peeing standing up doesn't feel like a break so I sit and
take inventory.
My painted tipped fingers clutch at my skirt and I feel
my long dark lashes flutter on my cheek. My smooth
shaven legs are stark white against the band of my pink
panties and control girdle.
After, I have to be very careful as my nervous fingers
begin to struggle to get everything back in the right
position again. I pull at my panties and control girdle and
think to myself, “Okay girl…get it right!”
I aligned the gusset’s plumb strips trying to meet
societal expectations of what should be in such delightful
pretty panties. I sometimes have trouble tucking
everything back, conscious that I’d just have to get used to
seeing sexy lingerie.
Slipping my thumbs under the elastic of my undies
waistband… I tugged up hard and wiggled my hips… I
tugged more and wiggled more until everything was up
and tight over the curve of my buttocks. I dropped my
skirt and sigh, asking, “Is this more fun than baseball?”
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In the kitchen with mother, she saw my red eyes.
“Look, after the summer is over, and you’re back in the
comfort of boy clothes, you might feel some
embarrassment. But for now, I know you are going to
have the time of your life! You get to forget the male
pressures to perform and be a girl.”
I could feel the anticipation creeping ever deeper into
gut. I was excited. A never-to-be-forgotten summer doing
the forbidden…like showing off the swell of pert breasts
and wearing sexy lingerie under a short skirt.
“You are going to be totally like a girl,” mother said.
“Are you starting to feel it yet?”
“What am I supposed to feel?”
Mother giggled, “Like you are not a boy or feel like
doing anything like a boy.”
“Oh yes…I think I’m beginning to feel that.…” I
wanted to feel it.
That evening, I put on a fashion show for Dad with
Kaylee’s encouragement. He was sitting in the living room
and watched as I modeled dress after dress, skirt after
skirt, outfit after outfit; for him. His favorite was my little
black dress and simple low-heeled pumps. I struck a very
girlish pose and walked back and forth, wiggling a bit too
much like a supermodel.
I looked at Dad. His eyes lingered on my feminized
figure and the way my dress caressed my smooth legs. He
had this look of astonishment on his face. Was he
embarrassed by me…his sissy son? Taking a breath, I
suddenly felt like my padded breasts were going to rip
through my bra and the front of my dress. Dad’s eyes
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moved slowly over my image like he no longer recognized
me.
Kaylee asked him, “So what do you think? Cute girl,
eh?”
Dad clapped his hands and then gave me a big smile.
“I can’t believe it…I’m going to have a daughter for the
summer!” he said, seemingly approving of our purchases.
“You look beautiful. In fact, everyone last night was so
impressed at your transformation.”
With that, I saw Kaylee disappear and then she and
mother came back into the living room with a part of my
birthday cake and a lacy pillow. Mother said to me,
“Honey, sit down.”
I sat down in a chair while my father stood up and
mother gave him the pillow only now, on top were a pair
of the highest heeled, patent leather pumps I’d ever seen.
Dad ceremoniously helped me into the new high heels
and said, “These are very high. I wouldn’t wear them to
work until you get some experience spending the day in
heels.” Once they were on, Dad added, “I guess these
heels are symbolic. You, my son, have now transitioned
into my daughter.”
Everyone had tears in their eyes.
Kaylee was the first to speak. “Oh, those shoes are to
die for. And they are going to kill you slowly for a while.
Let’s see if you can walk in them.”
I stood up and yes, the feet hurt…hurt good. And
these weren’t like when I was a kid; trying on “mommy’s
shoes”…these were my very own high heels! I stood and
tried to just stand in my stunning, new heels. It was like
I was standing on a tightrope.
They were so sexy and I wondered if I’d ever be able to
wear them a whole day. Dad helped me take a couple
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wobbly steps and they totally “feminized” my walk adding
a saucy back thrust to my bottom.
I tired to hide my excitement and rush of adrenaline at
being perched in such a feminine roost. How could
anything that hurt so badly, and feel so incredible?
“I like feeling tall,” was all I gasped.
Kaylee laughed, “Your head IS in heaven. But you are
still shorter than most boys…even with high heels, you
are more girl sized.”
I was a little embarrassed, and blushing furiously as I
learned to take shorter, more teetering steps. As
everyone coached me, Mother said, “Oh honey, those look
wonderful on you. With a short, tight skirt and….”
“I’ll be totally hobbled,” I interrupted. My big toe was
being painfully forced, no “molded” into the point of these
heels. But they made my foot looked smaller, my legs
longer and shapelier, and made my hips and bottom
wiggle when I walked.
Before she went home, Kaylee taught me how to put
my hair up on the new rollers and how to take it down
again then comb it out.
From then on Kaylee was my constant companion. She
seemed to take a special delight in my girlish education
and relieved mother of some of her coaching chores.
Mother was excited and enthusiastic when she
explained the intimate facts about womanhood. She said,
“There is no reason you shouldn’t understand the “special
things” and be able to talk about them when in the
company of other girls.”
Mother showed me how to put a pad on by using a
clean pair of panties. She made me pull off the strip and
stick it to the panties. She also showed me a tampon and
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described how it worked. She wanted me fully prepared
to be one of the girls.
Without sugarcoating the facts, she talked about the
pros and cons of pads vs. tampons. She even charted a 28-
day cycle for me on our kitchen calendar and circled four
days every month in red. It was all so silly but the
knowledge gave me more confidence in being one of the
girls.
“Oh, how sweet!” Kaylee exclaimed seeing the
calendar. She laughed, “I wish I could choose my days.
Are you going to use pads or….?”
I blushed and at first, I was very, very shy about that
whole cycle thing. I liked wearing dresses but Kaylee
could tell, I struggled against the intimate details of a
female life.
“You can’t be ashamed by the facts of life,” she said.
“Come with me.” So off we went to buy my pads and
tampons, then she showed me what I should carry in my
purse and when. She said, “Always remember to zip up
your purse during your special days and around boys!”
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Women around me had never been open to talking
about anything feminine: periods, bras, shaving legs, hair,
padding breasts, nothing like that. Now that I “got my
period,” they all wanted to help the clueless--me.
At the store, we were waiting in line and Kaylee
strikes up conversation with a lady about periods.
I blushed deeply during that conversation but I had to
understand; as if I was a female, I would have a monthly
period. I had to know how to use them and to loan them
to the needy. (girl code) They are a fact of a girl’s life and
not something I could be embarrassed about. I’m sure the
boys at school would have been absolutely horrified to
know what I had to carry in my purse.
By Friday the results of my intensive tutoring were
very much in evidence. I had learned to walk, to talk, and
to act like a girl.
It still felt strange to say, “My dress, my panties, or my
bra,” but I was getting used to it. Kaylee and mom were
good teachers and I had been a willing pupil. I was
beginning to look forward to Monday morning.
On Friday evening, after we had finished the dinner
dishes, mother and Dad excused themselves and went
upstairs. Kaylee and I looked at each other and both of us
wondered what they were up to. About an hour later, we
found out.
We heard them coming down the stairs and I’m afraid
that my eyes almost popped out of my head, for I saw
mother leading another woman into the room. Only she
wasn’t a woman, or was she?
It was my father, completely dressed as a very
attractive looking woman. He had on a very becoming
double knit light blue dress, nylons, high heels, a dark
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brown wig with long wavy hair, and was completely made
up as a woman, even down to nail polish, earrings,
necklace and perfume. His figure was padded to give him
the shape of a developed woman.
For quite a while I just stared. Finally mother broke
the spell by saying, “Well, Brenda and Kaylee, I want you
to meet my sometime sister?”
“Dad!” I blurted. “What does this mean? Does this
mean that you like to dress as a woman too?”
“Yes, Brenda,” said the woman, who only an hour ago
had been my father. “I have liked to dress as a girl, and
now as a woman, for many years. I started one
Halloween when I was about your age. My sisters and
mother dressed me up as a girl for a party. No one at the
party knew I was a boy.”
Mom added, “His sisters had so much fun that when
other boys unmasked, they didn’t remove his wig or tell
anyone about your father’s true gender.”
Dad said, “I liked it so much that my sisters let me
dress up occasionally even giving me some of their
clothes. We kept my dressing a secret from you because
we did not want it to influence you when growing up. Up
until recently, the public was not ready to accept any man
who liked to dress in women’s clothes as anything but a
candidate for the ding-a-ling ward.”
He continued, “As you now know, every male has some
degree of femininity in him…some of us more than
others.”
“WOW,” was my only comment. “You look like a
woman…a real woman?”
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“Thank you,” he smiled. “I guess you know now that
men who wear women’s clothes are not ALL crazy. If half
the population likes something, how can it be that bad?
We are part of a small group of men who like to express
their femininity by dressing and acting as women. Most
are normal males in every respect, yet we have this
feminine personality inside of us that demands a chance
to be expressed.”
Mother said, “Your father has been a leader of
industry, a man of integrity and a respected pillar of our
community. Sometimes as a human, even men have to
throw off the yolk of imposed normalcy in regards to
behavior and dress.”
“It was for these reasons that we decided to keep this
trait of mine a secret from you until now,” Dad said.
“I didn’t have the slightest clue,” I said.
“We did not want to influence you in any way. If you
had a feminine personality within you, we had to let it
develop naturally,” Mom said.
Dad, continued, “As it turns out, you do have a
feminine ‘Alter Ego’ and you already know what a lovely
person Brenda is becoming. Your recent acceptance at
school and at your birthday party is evidence that society
understands.”
Mom said, “We think that it is time to bring Donna out
into the open and give her a chance to lead her own life.
What do you think of your father as a `Donna?’”
“Donna?” I gasped. “A woman’s name? Mom, wasn’t
that your favorite Aunt?”
“Yes. She was a sweet and feminine woman. He likes
being called Donna,” mother said, as Dad blushed. “Do
you mind calling him by a female name?”
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“Always?” I asked, looking at Dad, his initial
exhilaration at check.
Mother laughed, “Not when he’s in his business
suit….”
For an answer I jumped up and hugged dad and said,
“I think you are wonderful Donna.” He began to cry then
we all had waterworks.
We then dried our tears, repaired our makeup and
had a four-way “girl talk” session for the remainder of the
evening.
Dad said, “If it’s okay with your mother, I’m going to
show off my feminine talents as Donna for the entire
weekend.”
“Yes, Donna. I will love having some sister time,” mom
giggled and said to me, “When you went to summer
baseball camp, you weren’t the only one running around
in spikes….”
On Saturday morning it was strange to find three
“females” running around our house. Donna made a lovely
woman, even in just his slip, and it was hard to realize
that this female-like person was also my father.
When he revealed himself in his lingerie, I found that
he was free from hair from his head to his toes, something
that I had never noticed before. Also, he revealed a secret
closet with a rather extensive female wardrobe, complete
in every detail.
Mother said, “We have been working on his femininity
for years. I swear, he has more panties than I do.”
Mother had known about Donna before they were
married and had helped him in every way. They had kept
their secret over the years and I had no idea at all that
my father liked wearing female clothes.
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Dressed in a pretty daytime dress, `Donna’ and I
prepared breakfast with domestic skill. After eating and
washing the dishes, he and I took over the house chores
from mother, freeing her to do the shopping.
Kaylee came over to continue my training. With only
two days to go I still had a lot of practicing to do. By this
time Kaylee and I were as close as real sisters and she
treated me as one. With Kaylee to take care of me, mother
concentrated on Donna. She said, “If you are going to be
women, you both need to be authentic to even the tiniest
detail.”
It was fun to watch Donna go about his chores. His
voice was much softer and moved into a higher tone as a
woman. His voice was quite passable. But mother said,
“He still needs a lot of practice to attain the musical
quality of a woman’s voice. He’ll get it.”
When the doorbell rang Donna would answer it
without hesitation.
He said, “Whenever I’m Donna, I want to be as
complete and authentic a woman as possible. I see no
reason to run or hide from anyone.”
Dad worked as hard at his lessons as I did at mine.
We both knew we were male but in the scheme of life, we
would try to become comfortable with exploring
femininity. Not the flaunting or flaming femininity or the
kind inviting attention…just the kind imposed by being
female. The routine, functional kind that rendered the
world around us a more balanced place…a kind of world
with feminine values and attention to pretty details and
wearing clothes in ultra-sleek fabrics and feminine
touches such as lace trim on lingerie but concern about
showing panty lines.
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Mother said, “The more you and your father act like
females, you more female-like you will become. You just
watch me, do what I do and the way I do it.”
I had to laugh, most boys want to be like their fathers.
My father liked girl things and was learning to move, talk
and dress like my mother. I guess I did want to be like
him?
I knew that learning to wear lipstick and perfume was
not something boys were expected to learn but it was how
I was expected to behave if wearing dresses.
That evening we changed our dresses to something
more suitable for ‘after five’. We didn’t need to change
but why not? Not you when you've got a darling dress in
the closet. Changing dresses was fun and flirty.
Dad said, “In the 1800’s, boys and girls would wear
dresses until age 6, usually white but the generally
accepted rule was pink for boy, and blue for girls. They
thought pink was a stronger color. Blue was considered
delicate and dainty…prettier for a girl. In the mid 1900’s,
pink became a girl color.”
“So wearing a dress is mostly just a fashion
statement?” I asked.
He laughed, “In a way but you and I want to explore
the girl side of fashion. If blue was the girl color, that’s
what we’d want to try.”
As we were sitting on our back patio making girl talk,
a car came into our drive. True to his word, Donna did not
run and hide.
It was my aunt, my father’s sister, and her family to
see me, they said, and to check on me. Were they ever
surprised to meet Donna and to learn who he really was.
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They had no idea at all that she existed, even though
Aunt Laura had helped in her development.
Mother was tickled to be able to show Donna off to
someone and Donna was not a shy woman either. She
enjoyed being seen, once the introductions had been
made, and was very much at ease. In fact, it was Donna
who fixed refreshments and served them to our company.
It was funny to watch the reactions of my relatives. At
first they were confused to no end, but as they got used to
seeing Donna they relaxed and accepted her. It took my
aunt a bit longer than the others to get used to seeing her
brother dressed and acting as a very good looking woman,
but my uncle acted almost from the first as if it were a
perfectly normal thing for Donna to be doing.
My two cousins, both girls, thought that it was great.
Before they left, my aunt, mother and Donna went inside
for a few minutes. When they came out my aunt was
laughing so hard that tears came to her eyes. I found out
later that she had insisted that Donna remove his dress
and show her how he had acquired the figure of a woman,
which Donna readily did. Before she left, my aunt kissed
Donna and welcomed her into the family. We knew that
the entire family would know of Donna before long.
The next morning, being Sunday, a decision had to be
made. Donna did not want to disappear; even for an hour
or so, yet he felt that he would be recognized if we went to
Church together. Not wanting to be the center of
unwanted attention at our church, we had a setback.
Mother solved the problem by insisting that we attend
services at a little Church out in the country where no one
knew us. I am sure that the congregation wondered who
the three unexpected women were, but they accepted us
as three female visitors attending church.
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As we left, the minister introduced himself. “My name
is Brenda,” I stammered.
But my father proudly said his name was “Donna,”
and daintily shook hands. He was wearing one of his best
dresses, a light blue floral print, short-sleeved shirtwaist
in thin silky polyester. Under it, he wore one of his
favorite nylon, full slips in snow white with a hem of frilly
floral lace.
The minister suggested we “LADIES” might like
taking a Sunday walk in a flower garden nearby. We did.
Once home, true to our expectations of yesterday,
other relatives came to meet Donna. Word had gotten
around about Dad and he soon became a very popular
woman. We had a steady stream of visitors who came to
see “Donna” for themselves. By evening almost all of our
relatives had come. Some of our neighbors came over too.
Donna, however, was perfectly at ease and did a
wonderful job of selling herself as a “lady” to everyone
who dropped by. When they saw how good looking and
how charming and happy my father was as a woman,
their prejudices disappeared and they accepted him into
the family as they had accepted me. Mother just beamed
at the two new women who had entered her life. But that
night we were two contrasting females.
Donna was as happy as a lark over her first weekend,
while I was as nervous as a bride as I thought of my
coming “work day.”
I asked mother, “Do you really think I can do this?”
“Honey, I believe you have everything you need inside
of you right now…you just need to understand feminine
emotional triggers, and that is not that easy for a boy.
“Emotional triggers?”
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“One of the biggest problems is that you have spent
your life revolved around masculinizing pressures, need to
win, compete, and all the elements ingrained into
`becoming a man.’ Part of that is resisting any natural
feminine energy.”
“Do you think all boys have a female energy?”
“Sure,” she said. Both boys and girls have way more
options now. Girl’s can become business leaders and boys
can…well, show vulnerability. You being a girl for the
summer is an emotional decision, not a rational one ”
“You can say that again!”
FIRST DAY AT WORK….
Monday morning dawned all too early for me. I was
very nervous and jittery as I dressed. I put on my bra and
panties then my mother and dad came in. Mother began
to help me with my hair.
Dad was there to encourage me. He said, “Remember
darling, we love you, not your clothes.” He kissed me
lightly on the cheek.
It was beginning…a wash of pure excitement rushed
up my back.
I was nervous. Up until this moment, I had been
enjoying dressing and acting as a girl, but to work and
live as one all summer? This might be too much. What
was I getting myself into?
They watched as I slid a white lacy slip over my head,
the lace over my bra cups was tightly fitted. I pulled on a
pair of nude pantyhose.
I asked, “Do you both think I’m doing the right thing?
There’s going to be a lot of things I can’t do as a girl that I
could as a boy.”
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“More things you CAN do as a girl,” Dad said, “I don’t
think you realize how much this will change your daily
behaviors.”
For my first day as a working girl, Mother suggested a
conservative dress with black dots on pale pink that Dad
helped zip me into. “You are going to be on your feet all
day so I suggest these at first.” She helped me into a
pointed toe pump shoe with a medium heel. She added,
“Once you get used to these, you’ll want higher heels.
Mom and Dad watched proudly as I used my
foundation, eyeliner, mascara, and rouge then filled in my
lips with a ruby lipstick. With my plucked brows, a
natural looking girl’s face looked back at me in the mirror.
Mother removed my curlers and combed out my hair. She
teased the back and sprayed it with hair spray then
squeezed my hand, holding tightly as if not really wanting
to let go.
The preparations for this day had been many hours in
the making and now, with Mom’s final touches, it was
here. Could I do this all summer? I was scared.
I looked in the mirror; the tension on my face was
evident, as my long dark eyelashes fluttered nervously, a
pinkish blush spreading over my pretty cheeks. I put my
ruby lipstick in my purse, seeing the tampon Kaylee had
teasingly put on top.
“Guess it’s time to go to work as a salesgirl?” I sighed.
“The girl part won’t be work for you,” Mom whispered.
What a rush of feelings. The mirror reflected a lovely,
wholesome but shy girl about to step into unexplored
territory. Over my shoulder I saw the excited smile of my
proud father. I drew in a nervous breath and left the
protection of my bedroom, taking another anxious step
into girlhood.
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My hair fell to my shoulders in glossy dark
waves. My first job and it was in a dress that felt
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too snug in the waist and the bodice too low. But
that’s what wearing a dress is all about!
We went down to breakfast and I calmed down. I
found myself restlessly looking forward to this new
experience. Dad’s office was also in the downtown area so
I would be riding in with him.
We passed a group of boys going to baseball practice.
They were rough housing and wearing jeans and t-shirts.
He knew what I was thinking; I should be with them, not
wearing a bra, panties, a dress, lipstick, and with curly
hair. “Dad,” I asked, “Do you think I’m doing the right
thing?”
He smiled and said, “I’m so proud of you. It takes a lot
of guts to face the world and admit you like girl stuff like
bras, panties, slips, dresses, nylon stockings, and high
heels.”
I sighed, remembering how much fun playing baseball
was during the summer. This summer, I’d be inside a
store, parading around in high heels and a dress. “Do you
really think I can pull this off all summer?”
“Sure you can,” he encouraged, “By the end of a couple
weeks you’ll have forgotten all about baseball and other
‘boy’ stuff. You are going to be astonished how feminine
you will feel. I know you are going to evolve into a
charming young lady.”
Then he added, “Don’t forget, it’s easy to look, smell
and dress like a female, the hard part is learning to act
and feel like one. So you fake it until you make it.”
Dad stopped in front of the store to drop me off and
gave me a few final words of encouragement. Pulling me
close for a hug, he nuzzled against my perfumed hair, his
lips moving to a sensitive spot where the graceful curve of
my neck blended into my shoulder and whispered, “I’ve
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seen my simple, ordinary son blossom into my fresh-faced,
lovely young daughter. I love you like this.” After a kiss
from him, I swished into the store to begin my new career.
INSIDE THE STORE….
As I walked to the elevator, I imagined that everyone
was staring at me, but of course it was only my
imagination. The looks I got came from those who
appreciated looking at a pretty girl. I was wearing a
pretty dress, and that is exactly what I appeared to them
to be.
My hands were trembling as I pushed the elevator
button and watched the doors close. The excitement of
the sensations was rising every floor. I felt a welling
sensation grow from the pit of her stomach to the extra
tight pressure of my panties.
My breath caught in my throat as little moan escaped
as I leaned against the back of the elevator. “Oh, my,” I
said out loud and then checked my dress. My spine
tingled downwards; seeing my breasts press outward, I
felt like a child watching fireworks.
It seemed such a wild, impossible hallucination…my
long curls spilling about my blushing face, my long dark
eyelashes lowered. An objectionable thought…“Oh
gawd…I have become such a sissy!” Raw fears but thrills
were washing through my jangled nerves. What was it
going to feel like to be a girl everyday?
Shivering with nervous excitement, the elevator
seemed to stop on every floor. People got in and smiled…
I smiled back then my lashes shyly fluttered. I was so
aware of the material of my skirt and panties between my
closed thighs. My face flamed with embarrassment.
On the top floor, I walked out of the elevator and went
to my uncle’s office where he greeted me warmly;
complimenting me on my appearance by saying, “I’m glad
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to have such a pretty niece. I’ll take you to the Personnel
office.”
On the way, he told me that another uncle of mine had
bet him that I would not show up. He laughed, “I got odds
and since you have showed, I think you should get a share
of the winnings!”
I declined his offer graciously. “I’m just grateful for the
chance to earn some money for my college education. I
thought I’d be slinging burgers for the summer.”
At Personnel, I learned my job would be a substitute
salesgirl. I was to take the place of the regular salesgirls
as they took their summer vacations. I would work in
various departments throughout the store. After filling
out various forms, I was given a training program that
lasted until lunchtime. I went to the cafeteria where I had
lunch with the other girls.
After lunch, I was given a short tour of the store and
taken to the boy’s clothing department to begin my selling
job. My first sale was made almost immediately and at
the end of the day I had a good sales record. And why not?
After all, there were few salesgirls who knew more about
boy’s clothes than I did!
The day went quickly, but I was exhausted and my
feet hurt by the time Dad picked me up. I swung my legs
into the car very girlishly and bubbled in my new found
high, feminine register, “I did it! I loved it! I’m going to be
a salesgirl for the summer!”
Thus my summer as a girl began. Every two weeks I
was in a different department. As a customer, I knew
what I wanted in a sales clerk, and I was that kind of a
salesgirl. I must have found a successful formula because
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my sales record was very good for a beginner. This added
up to a nice paycheck as my commissions, when added to
my salary, came to a very high figure.
I rode to and from work with Dad, and he loved
hearing every little detail of my day. Being a girl can be a
tedious daily chore, but always absolutely a challenge.
At the beginning of my training, Mom said, “You can
never allow boy sensations or urges to take over, even
when you are all alone. Your body might be temporarily
satisfied after the act but male pleasure could break your
female chi and you’ll feel ashamed as the female spell is
broken.”
I didn’t want to discuss it, but I knew what she was
talking about. So, any thought a boy might have had to
be put aside. To be feminine is to be like a female in all
senses. Anything a boy might do, even in the privacy of
his bedroom, had to be replaced with the nature of a girl.
Male impulses were replaced by female impulses like
putting on lipstick, moisturizing my face, or rummaging
through my closet to coordinate a dress with my bra,
panties, slip, high heels and purse.
Getting my hair up in rollers and shaving my legs
became more important than anything a boy might do
before bed.
As time went on, there was a bond between my body
and female spirit that I could not explain but felt. Taking
care of my female attitude became uppermost in my mind.
I would never be without proper nail polish or the right
lingerie; anything that might make anyone, (including
me,) think boy. I was living a young woman's life.
I had to become obsessed with the natural desires of a
girl. Without the outlets of a boy, I felt vulnerable,
sometimes over-analyzing what wearing a dress meant.
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One night, I let the boy go and the next day, I considered
calling off my summer, just to make the confusion go
away.
CONTINUED IN FAMILY GONE GIRL #2
Write comments and suggestions to:
SANDY THOMAS
P.O. Box 2309
Capistrano Beach, CA 92624-0309 USA
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