All Pretense Aside....             by: Diane

 

Part One

As a young boy, during a long summer, my sisters had not let me play in their girl games or even to play house with them. That might seem normal to most boys before their puberty, but mine was perhaps different than other boys my age, for there seemed to be no boys who lived within 8 or 10 miles from the farm house where my family lived. So I couldn’t hop on my bike and ride over to a neighbor boy’s home to play.

Everytime I tried to get my older sisters to even let me watch them play, they would refuse. When I told my mother about the situation, she suggested I play my own games, or pretend to be my favorite superhero from a comic book that I read. Then I could be anyone my heart desired, and go about the fields and woods saving the world from evil villians.

I told my mom I would pick out one and tell her which. Oh, I had a number of great comics, where Batman and Robin, or Superman, or even the new comic out featuring the X-men to choose from. Even the Hulk. But because the heroine of the Supergirl series reminded me a lot of my mother (blonde hair and blue eyes, plus a fabulous figure), I chose Supergirl as my alternate identity. There was no other specific reason that in thinking back led me to choose the Supergirl character.

Did I mention that my eyes are blue and my hair is blonde as well? That may well have been the deciding point. Now I needed to come up with some blue tight-fitting jeans, a cape, and appropriate footware. Then I could disappear into the woods, or ride my bike along the stretches of road so the cape would flap in the air, just like Supergirl’s cape.

My mother was certainly surprised at my choice, but conceded to my choice when I explained the hair and eyes bit. First she looked at a couple of the comics to see what she had to find to match the stuff Supergirl wears. Looking through old clothing my sisters had outgrown, she managed to find satisfactory items which she could fit to my younger body.

There were several pairs of tights of stretchy nylon that would fulfill the function of covering my legs. That all of them were not of the blue color of the comics, Mom passed over by explaining that even Supergirl changed clothes frequently, so even she had to wear different colors while the blue tights were washed and dried. Then she pulled out a couple of dance leotards that would fit, plus some bottoms of my sisters’ old two-piece swimsuits. A cape was sewn quickly from materials she had and I was ready to go. Except for shoes or boots. Then inspiration struck, and Mom found a pair of red rubber galoshes that barely fit my rapidly growing feet.

Soon I was dressed in the clothing from neck to toe, totally dressed in cast-off girl’s clothes. My sisters were playing in the front of the house under a big shade tree, so I left the house from the rear. Mom told me if my sisters saw me and asked who I was supposed to be, I could just say "Superboy" and they would accept that.

I spent the days following assuming my secret identity and found that it was real fun to pretend. My siblings, satisfied that I was staying out of their hair, so to speak, didn’t question me at all. Until the laundry was being done, and they spotted the leotards and tights drying in the bathroom. Unfortunately, when they asked who I was pretending to be, it slipped out that I was Supergirl, instead of the Superboy that Mom had suggested. Woe unto me for days after, for they teased me incessantly about being a sissy. When I protested that Supergirl was no sissy, they ignored me. Until I picked up a large tree branch and threatened to swat them with it after having been ragged for a week or two. Whether it was my anger that gave me the strength to lift that branch, or what, I’m not sure. But seeing me raise it above my head convinced them somehow, perhaps because the branch was heavy enough that they couldn’t move it before.

Then the two switched over to asking why Supergirl looked like a boy when she should be dressed like they were when in disquise. And why should they call me Jan instead of Janice. Soon I was wearing skirts and blouses, and they even insisted on styling my lengthening hair which had grown over the summer. Would you believe it, they asked if I wanted to play with them and their dolls. Go figure!

By the end of summer, no one in our family teased me about wearing girl’s clothes. When school started, I wore boy’s stuff to school, then I changed into skirts, blouses and even panties and stuff when arriving home. That saved a lot of wear and tear on the boy stuff. Mom said it saved quite a bit by me wearing the available hand-me-downs at home.

A big English singing group invaded the USA that school year, and gradually long hair became a more accepted thing. My hair, which had been cut short before starting and during school, was again allowed to grow after Easter, so that by the time we moved after Mom and Dad sold the farm just as the school year ended and we moved into a nearby city, my hair had again reached the collar of my shirts. I quit wearing skirts and dresses, since other boys around me didn’t. But I found myself longing to do so. Although my wearing of girl’s panties didn’t stop, since no one could see them under my jeans. After a year of wearing panties, I found them much more comfortable than boy’s briefs or boxers.

Dad had to go on a long trip at his new job. Mom decided that she should go visit a sister of hers for a couple of weeks and that we children would go with her. I had been growing in height that spring into summer, so the question of clothing needed for the trip arose, since my jeans and slacks were above my ankles. My aunt had visited us the summer before, and was fully aware that I seemed perfectly satisfied to wear clothes my sisters had outgrown. Mom asked if I wanted to be Supergirl again while we were traveling cross country and while at my aunt’s home. Not a problem as far as I was concerned.

My sisters had to get in the middle of things, insisting that I should wear more advanced clothing than I had worn before. Including training bras so their clothing would look apprpriate on me, given that I was nearly as tall as they were now. And other things, like hose and a garter belt to hold them up. They undertook the task of doing my hair and introducing me to nylons and the associated garments. While my hair was in rollers, I was directed to try on all the clothes they had to spare, including girl’s one-piece swimsuits.

The next morning we packed the car, then I was told to bathe and get dressed without getting my hair wet in the process. My older sister insisted that I even wear crinoline petticoats so that my dress would flare out just as their dress skirts did. Soon I was fully feminine in appearance, looking just like a 14 or 15 year old girl of the time. Even though I was but a lad barely 12 years of age. Mom even put a pair of ear rings on me and added just a touch of rouge to my cheeks and put a light pink nail polish on my finger and toe nails. That trip sealed my future, for until I grew too tall to wear my sisters’ castoffs, I regularly spent at least two weeks every summer dressed completely as a girl.

In high school, I was shaving just like any other male my age. And I played baseball and joined the swim team as well. A fiend of my younger sister named Sally who lived a couple of blocks over from us became the center of my universe, dispite the fact that she was in the class ahead of me. Because she was a senior and I was a lower classman, she naturally had little or nothing to do with me. After she graduated, she dissappeared in a college somewhere while I was still a high school kid. Talk of your unrequited love.

I did well in my classes and excelled as both a swimmer and at first base, so by the time I graduated, several colleges and universities offered me scholarships. I was finding it hard to pick a particular choice, until she came back to town. Sally, that is. Suddenly, she appeared at the front door to see if I wanted to attend the college she had been attending. Boy, talk about a year making a big difference. Here was the brightest star in my sky of last year asking me to go to her college. I hesitated to commit myself, for I was unaware that Sally had learned from my sister of my preference toward women’s clothing. Then Sally said something about my being able to keep my dresses and other clothes in her apartment while I stayed in the freshmen’s dorm the first year. "And that way, Janice can visit me anytime she wants! What do you say to that?" she asked.

I was floored! I knew that Sally had been a close friend to my younger sister, but had she let my secret out of the family? And why did Sally want to have a visit from someone she knew who dressed in clothing of the opposite sex, particularly after she had ignored me the previous year dispite all of my hints of my interest in her?

I asked, "Just how do you know about Janice?"

"Your sister was at my parents visiting with me when Mom and Dad returned from shopping at the mall, both of them still in dresses. When I told your sister that my Dad is a crossdresser and that my Mom and he have a great relationship going, she told me about your secret when I was home this past Easter. Given how well my parents get along, I thought a long time about it and decided to see if you might be interested in having a female friend who wasn’t a sister that understands. That’s all."

I asked her to come in and sit while we could talk. After a few minutes of soul searching conversation, Sally asked me if I would get dressed and let her see how I looked. That might alleviate some of my tension, and I would see how she responded. If she found my feminine appearance acceptable then I could consider her offer.

So I asked if she wanted to wait while I could transform into a female appearance, or whether she wanted to watch. Sally giggled, then said, "I’ve watched my Dad change and even helped with his wig and make up. If you are comfortable with a woman watching, I could probably be of some help."

It had been a while since even members of my family had viewed my efforts to switch from one gender role to another, so I was tentative about the idea of Sally watching. "Hey, if it will make you comfortable while you change over, I’m willing to change my clothing at the same time. I brought some clothing of my own so I can be just as scared about you seeing me undressed as you seem to be of having a stranger watch you."

Wow! I had literally lusted over Sally while she was fully dressed. Just how did she know to jack my interest up in anticipation of seeing her in an undressed state? So I agreed to her idea.

We went up to my room. I stood facing her as I took off my shirt. In response she removed her blouse. In short order the scheme of matching removals continued until the two of us were standing there, me in just panties, Sally in her bra and matching panties. Smiling she said, "No fair, you don’t have a bra on. If you expect me to take mine off, you’ll have to pur one on to match." Turning to my dresser chest, I quickly donned a bra, after having grabbed the first one available.

Then I turned back, my hands still on the back of my bra next to the hooks. Sally smiled again and said, "That’s better. Are you ready?" Her hands popped her bra loose at the same time I removed mine, revealing her magnificent boobs with a sudden florish.

I reveled at the sight of her beautiful breasts standing pertly out in front of her ribcage. Immediately my panties swelled in reaction. "Ah-h-h, you like what you see!" she retorted. The pole in my panties doubled in size and length, making the panties too tight, to the point of being uncomfortable. Sally’s response surprised me, for she came to a point just in front of me and pulled the panties down releasing my stiffening member. "Here, we can fix that problem."

Swinging one leg up and tiptoeing, she placed my penis between her legs next to the crotch of her panties, then lowered her leg which captured me tightly between her thighs against the crotch. "Now hump away, big boy." She leaned against my chest, pressing her breasts against me as her arms hugged me closer. I moved my hips back and began stroking into the tight triangle. Sally’s hips rocked in couterpoint to mine. Only seconds went by before I scattered semen all over, soaking the all ready wet crotch even more.

"Now we can change panties without worrying about rips."

~~To be continued.~~

 

 

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