Brothers in Panties

By Gingerfred Man

 

Chapter One – Boyhood

I loved being a boy. My name is Tim Morgan and not only did I enjoy being a boy, I was good at it. Even as a little guy, I loved trucks and airplanes and snakes and guns and dirt. Lots of dirt. I was always hygienically challenged until I turned thirteen and began to notice that girls didn’t like dirtbags.

What girls thought of me meant a lot when I was thirteen. I began to feel those strange stirrings in my gut whenever I saw a pretty girl. It was a good thing I had the greatest big brother in the world to explain what it all meant.

Francis Morgan was not only my big, two-years-older brother, he was my best friend. There was almost no sibling rivalry between us. We formed a bond in our early years and always cared more about each other’s approval more than we did the approval of our Mom and Dad.

Dad didn’t pay any attention to us anyway. He and Mom were always at each other about things. Mostly about Dad’s philandering. He almost never had a job and was almost never around, except when he needed money to take out his floozies. Mom had inherited a great deal of money, so Dad thought he would never starve. Mom often accused him of being a leech and only marrying her for her money.

The truth was, Mom probably had guys lined up around the block to marry her. Not only was she rich, but also she was, even at 38, gorgeous, with a stunning face and a great figure. Why she picked a difficult man like Dad is anyone’s guess. Mom was sweet too, when she wasn’t being provoked. Even the sweet girls, it seems, are attracted to the bad boys. One of the mysteries of life.

Anyway, Francis and I laid low when Mom and Dad fought and they were never abusive to us. They spent all their abuse on each other.

I didn’t have a Dad to tell me the facts of life, but I had Francis. At fifteen, he was a bit of a ladies man himself and he was not stingy with what he learned in the War Between the Sexes. Francis always shared with me – materially and spiritually.

I was ready to apply some of this imparted knowledge about s-e-x with a lucky girl, but the opportunity never presented itself until Super Bowl Sunday when I was in 8th grade.

The four of us, Mom, Dad, Francis and I, were invited to a Super Bowl party at the home of the O’Malleys, Mr. And Mrs. 14-year-old Mary Elizabeth and 12-year-old Mary Catherine.

I didn’t know the girls as well as I wanted. They were cuties! Mary Catherine was a year behind me in school and we said hi now and then. But Mom and Mrs. O’Malley had been best friends in college and often went to movies and things together.

I loved football and was pretty wrapped up in the game, pork rinds and cheese doodles. Still, I couldn’t help but notice Mary Catherine.

Only twelve, Mary Catherine seemed intent on proving that Catholic girls did not start much too late. She was wearing a very short skirt and sheer black stockings. Her black pumps were only two-inches high, but they were stilettos and very sexy. And they made her cute little butt stick out very nicely. She had an angelic face, graced by appropriate make-up, and her budding boobs made her chest protrude perfectly. She was paying a lot more attention to me than she was the game, as was her sister with Francis.

In the fourth quarter of a close game, the grown-ups seemed very intent on the action. Mary Catherine leaned over to me and whispered a lovely invitation for a different kind of action. I accepted, noticing that Mary Elizabeth and Francis had already toddled out.

We slipped off to an upstairs bathroom and locked the door. My life’s first kiss was on Mary Catherine’s soft, red, Irish lips. I loved it! I sat down on the toilet and she sat on my lap, rubbing her cute tushie against my hardening cock. Francis had told me about the uncharted land that lay beyond kissing and I was hoping to visit it soon.

Mary Catherine had limited time and a big agenda. She pulled her blouse over her head and unhooked her bra for me! Leapin’ Lizards! She had delicious little tomato-sized titties, all new and plump and mostly nipple. I kissed them, just as Francis had instructed if the opportunity arose. Mary Catherine squirmed, wiggling as if she wanted to get away. But she didn’t.

Suddenly, Mary Catherine stood and pulled up her skirt. She began to remove her panties!!!! I was near heart failure, but when she presented her soaked little muffie at my mouth, I remembered Francis’ sage advice. Lick it. Look for the little girl sticking out, then lick her. I held onto Mary Catherine’s perfect ass cheeks and licked her pussy lips. She shivered with delight. I was very proud of myself and horribly excited. I licked some more. After about five minutes of intense writhing and muffled squealing, Mary Catherine’s little clitty began to peek out. I recognized the phenomenon and gave it a tentative lick. She gasped and shook. Holding her firmly, I took its three-quarter-inch-long glory into my mouth and gave it a thorough licking and sucking. She screamed! And came in convulsive thrusts. I was terrified, thinking that a) I had harmed her and b) that we were heard and I would be caught with a faceful of pussy juice. As good fortune would have it, Mary Catherine’s wrenching orgasm occurred simultaneously with an 80-yard touchdown play, making it just one more scream.

I believed I had made a friend for life. Mary Catherine was enraptured with my pussy-eating technique and success. She kissed me lustily and wetly, then slipped to her knees to repay me in kind. Getting the picture, I frantically wiggled out of my pants and briefs, exposing my very fine cock. I was young, but my cock was a full-sized seven inches, uncut, red and dripping boyish goo.

Mary Catherine gasped with delight, locked eyes with me, giggled, then licked my privates from balls to peehole. It was fantastic! My balls and cock were on fire. This was my first blowjob, in fact my first cock-touching, and I had no basis for comparison. But now I know that Mary Catherine O’Malley gave me a world-class blowjob that day. At that moment, I saw a lifetime of hot, incredible, boy-girl sex ahead of me and I was very excited by the prospect. My prediction was accurate, but the way it unfolded was different than I imagined.

As I became more and more distressed, nearing my first-ever orgasm, Mary Catherine smiled and told me how handsome I was. She told me I was a great pussy-licker and we were going to have intense fun whenever I wanted. Then she applied herself to my bliss. My balls rumbled.

"Something’s happening to me, Mary Catherine!" I innocently said.

Mary Catherine giggled and inserted a finger in my asshole as she licked me to frenzy. Glory! The finger wiggled in my tight hole and that was that. Blewy!!!! I quivered, then wrenched with the intensity of an explosion that began in my gut and spread to my hair and toenails. I fired globs of goo into Mary Catherine’s sweet mouth. She swallowed them expertly.

The idea began to form in my mind that I was not Mary Catherine’s first.

No matter. I was, of course, in love. A trickle of my boy’s cream drooled along Mary Catherine’s chin. She kissed me, transferring it to my chin. She stood, pulled up her panties and fixed her make-up as I pulled myself together. She smiled again, kissed me, then left to rejoin the party. I left a minute later for propriety.

The scene I walked in on changed my life more than what had just happened in the bathroom. Mom was in a murderous mood. While we four kids had been otherwise occupied (Francis, it turns out, had been similarly lucky with Mary Elizabeth), it had been revealed that Dad had been having an affair with Mrs. O’Malley!

Mr. O’Malley asked us all to leave. Mom asked Dad to take up residence in Hell, a sentiment that she extended to her former best friend as well.

It was a cold night and we left Dad to his own two feet, Mom, Francis and I driving home without him. On the way home, we stopped at a gun shop, where Mom tried to convince the owner how silly the three-day waiting period was. She was angry right then, she told him, and probably wouldn’t want to buy a gun three days later. It was un-American – a conspiracy in restraint of trade.

But we returned home unarmed. I was wondering how Dad would ever get in the house to get his stuff. I sure wouldn’t have risked seeing Mom again. Then the point became moot. Asking us to help, Mom put all Dad’s stuff in the backyard, added some of those fake fire logs, and lit a bonfire. Remind me not to piss Mom off.

Then Mom brought Francis and me inside and hugged us, crying and telling us that she loved us very much and that no matter what happened, she would always love us and take care of us.

That was very reassuring that Sunday night and quite honestly, Francis and I knew we would never really miss our Dad very much. He pretty much ignored us or was surly with us. We were totally in love with our Mom, who had always been great to us – loving and appropriately strict.

Francis and I went to bed that night in the room we had always shared. Despite all this life-altering turmoil, my mind was still very occupied with Mary Catherine O’Malley’s warm, gooey parts. I gave Francis chapter and verse on what had happened and how it had made me feel.

"You may have to set that aside for a while, Timmy," Francis said. He was the only one who called me Timmy. "I think big things will be happening in our lives very soon."

Francis turned out to be very right. But that first week, I spent most of my time trying to be alone with Mary Catherine. I was completely unsuccessful. Mom looked at her as the spawn of the she-devil, her former best friend, and we wouldn’t be going near her lair for any slap and tickle in the foreseeable millennia.

Rats. Just when my boyish sexuality had taken a quantum leap, I was cast back among the virgins.

The really strange part of that week was that each day when we came home, Mom would hug us and cry and tell us everything would be all right and that she would protect us.

The oddest thing she said was that she had a sure-fire plan so that we wouldn’t grow up just like our father.

What did that mean?

Francis and I got the idea that Mom had been very busy during the day when we were at school.

On Thursday, Mom took us out of school and to a doctor on the other side of town. It was time for our physicals, she said. I thought we had taken care of that earlier that school year, but Mom’s word was law.

The doctor was a nice young man, around 40 and very solicitous of Mom. Mom sat in with us as the doctor had us strip naked. He examined us very carefully, taking blood and urine samples. Then he told us he needed a semen sample. Francis and I blushed and looked at each other.

The doctor said not to worry, as he would gather his sample through a sexual response test. He called me over to him and had me stand. He inserted his gloved, lubed finger into my tight anus, just as Mary Catherine had that Sunday. Then he wiggled it and moved it back and forth. Mom smiled nicely and Francis’ cock was red and angry. How embarrassing for him!

Still, the doctor’s finger felt awfully nice and when he used his thumb and two fingers from his other hand to expertly wank my cock, I was near the brink in no time. The doctor told me to imagine that prettiest girl I knew was doing the "test." I had Mary Catherine squarely in my mind when my cock began to twitch and my ass spasmed. It was so humiliating to have this happen in front of my Mom and Francis. She was calm, almost amused. Francis was very excited and was leaking boygoo all over his cockhead.

Trembling with embarrassment and sexual arousal, I came hard into the doctor’s hand. He spoke softly and reassuringly to me as he milked my balls completely dry, then scraped his sample into a jar.

Knowing he was close, Francis stepped up for his "test." The doctor had barely inserted his finger in Francis’ tight anus and gripped Francis’ doodle, when Francis began to spurt his cream. Watching me cum had excited Francis tremendously. He even smiled at the doctor as he was being fondled. And he didn’t seem put off by being handled by a man. Well, the man was a doctor.

Francis’ sample having been gathered, he and I dressed and went to the waiting room. Mom said she was to be examined next. She was in there a long time, maybe an hour, and when she came out of the examining room, her make-up was messed, she was walking funny and she was clutching what appeared to be a ream of completed prescriptions. How odd!

On the way to a late arrival at school, we stopped at seven different drugstores to pick up prescriptions. Big ones.

The next day, Friday, we arrived just in time to see Mrs. Webster leaving our house. Mrs. Webster was in charge of records for the schools in our town. Mom was holding several large envelopes. There was a funny smell in the house, especially by Mom’s bedroom and we found it odd that Mom was wearing lingerie at 3:30 in the afternoon. But they were odd times.

The next morning, Mom woke us around eight and told us we were going to spend a weekend at our cabin up north. We loved going there, but usually didn’t go in February. The van was stuffed with suitcases and things, much more than a weekend’s worth. But we were kids and didn’t question most things.

It was a four-hour drive and Mom was in a very good mood. When we got there around one, we were surprised to see that the real estate agent who managed our cabin had filled the refrigerator and had a winter’s worth of wood in place for us. A bit of overkill, Francis and I thought.

Mom fixed us a delicious lunch, then sat us down to talk to us.

"Francis and Tim, you are the most precious people in my life. I love you both to distraction."

Francis and I glowed. We loved our Mom too and told her so.

"Thank you, my Darlings. That’s why I must be sure that you will never grow up to be like your father. You carry his evil genes within you. I must suppress them. Sweethearts," Mom said, "I’m going to raise you as girls."

We must have heard her wrong. We looked at each other. Then Francis said, "But, Mom, we’re boys."

"Only half, Francis. All boys are half girls. You have a woman’s X chromosome and a man’s Y. I want to save you from the Y your father gave you."

That was it. We were convinced Mom was crazy. She had never been crazy. Dad must have made her crazy.

I said, "But, Mom. That’s impossible. We look like boys. We are boys. Everyone knows us as boys. All our school records say we’re boys."

Mom addressed each point. "Listen, sweet darlings. In the very near future, you will no longer look like boys. You will be wearing girlish things. You will have girlish mannerisms. Your bodies, except for your privates, will be girl’s bodies, including breasts. We will be staying here until your bodies adjust and I can train you to be girls. In June or July, we will move to Fromage, Wisconsin, a lovely town 100 miles east of our town. You will be enrolled in the high school as Vanessa Morgan, junior, and Neena Morgan, freshman. You will be blissfully happy and safe from the fate of being like your father. Now come over here and let me give you your first injections of female hormones."

We were dumbfounded and terror-stricken, but did as we were told.

What choice did we have? If we called child welfare, we would end up in some foster home with 12 other kids, all with huge problems. Or in some orphanage holding our bowls and saying, "Please sir, may I have more?" That was a twist we didn’t want.

Plus we had already lost our father. We didn’t want to lose a Mom we loved.

 

Chapter Two – The Pact

That first afternoon, Mom had us strip naked. She took our boy clothes outside, including our shoes, and poured gasoline on them. As they burned and Mom watched the fire outside, Francis and I stood naked in the living room and considered our fate.

I began to cry.

Francis said, "Don’t cry, Timmy. It’ll be all right."

We hugged. It felt strange do so while in the buff, but I was comforted greatly.

Francis said, "Listen, Timmy. Remember what Braveheart said to his troops?" Francis knew it was one of my favorite movies. "He said, ‘They may take our lives, but they can’t take our honor.’ Mom may make us look like girls and act like girls, but we won’t be girls. And when we’re 18, that’s two years and three months for me, four and four for you, we can do whatever we want. We can stop taking the hormones and we’ll become boys again."

I sniffled. "But Francis, why do we have to act like girls?"

"Because if anyone suspects we’re boys dressing as girls, we’ll be beaten up two or three times a day. And continuously humiliated. If we learn how to be girls and act like girls, we’ll get through this. Hey, Timmy. Maybe when I turn 18, I’ll get a court order and have you live with me. We can both be boys a lot faster."

That raised my spirits a millimeter. Francis was right. We couldn’t be half girls. We would have to pretend to be girls all the way. Except…. "Francis, we wouldn’t have to date boys, would we?" My stomach turned at the thought,

Francis smiled. "Of course not, silly. We’ll still be boys in our hearts and to each other. And boys don’t date boys. So do we have a pact? We pretend to be girls, but stay true to being boys where it matters. And we become boys again as soon as possible."

I smiled and shook Francis’ hand. "It’s a pact!"

Just then, Mom came in from outside and things moved very quickly.

Mom said, "I have your room set up for you my darlings. Go look."

We did. It was the room we usually occupied. A large, rustic room with twin beds arranged so that the occupants faced each other across the room. But Mom had obviously told the real estate agent to make every girlie touch imaginable. There was lace and frills everywhere. Two large armoires supplemented the two large closets. Mom began to unpack the six suitcases of things that we now realized were for us.

Afraid of what lay ahead and still naked, we were sort of relieved when Mom announced that she had located our outfits for the rest of that day.

Then she surprised us yet again, by saying that we needed a bath and shave before we dressed.

"But, I don’t shave, Mom," I said. "And Francis only shaves about once a week."

Mom smiled. "Your sister’s name is Vanessa, Neena, dear."

I looked at Francis. He nodded at me to play along.

Mom added. "And you’ll be shaving your legs and armpits and those unruly patches of hair above your clitties."

Clitties? Oh.

Mom drew a bath in the large tub, then put us both in. "Girls can bathe together, ladies," she said.

We washed ourselves very thoroughly. I couldn’t help but rub against Francis once or twice. For some reason, the process had given me a large woodie. I looked over at Francis. He was likewise aroused. I blushed in shame.

Mom dried us off with big, fluffy towels, then showed us how to shave our legs and armpits. I paid attention, since I didn’t want Mom doing the shaving after the first time. Mom had us bend over and she shaved the hairs right off the area between our buttcheeks. It was humiliating, but I got even stiffer. I was praying that I wouldn’t cum.

My legs felt so smooth. And my buttcheeks felt like silk. It almost felt good. Then Mom began to shave my pubic area, with the intent of leaving only a small patch above my "clitty." In her efforts, she touched my cock several times and that was the trigger I had tried desperately to avoid. I moaned, grunted and began to spasm out thick globs of cum. Some went into Mom’s hand. Most hit the bathroom floor. I was humiliated forever. I had cum in front of my Mom. The second time in three days.

Mom acted as if it were no biggie. "I’m delighted you rid yourself of that vile boyish toxin. I hope you’ll take steps to purge yourselves several times a day."

Huh?

We were pronounced dried, shaved and ready. Mom led us back to the bedroom, where she applied sissy-smelling powder to our pubic areas, tummies and chests. It did feel soothing after the bath and shave. She then gave us our first stockings and showed us how to roll them on. Mine were tan. Francis’ were black. We began to roll them slowly up our legs.

Uuuuhhhhhh. That was very nice. Despite his recent eruption, Little Timmy was stiff and throbbing yet again. The stockings felt heavenly. If you were a girl. Which I wasn’t.

I looked over at Francis. He was apparently experiencing the same feelings. When he got the second stocking up to his thigh, his "toxins" escaped him.

Mom displayed a small, knowing smile. Then she cleaned the mess with a towel.

Francis and I were then given garter belts and instructed in their use.

"No daughters of mine will wear pantyhose!" Mom declared.

Our training bras seemed silly, but Mom said they would help us get ready for the luscious titties we would sprout in the near future. I thought of Mary Catherine’s beautiful rack and sighed.

We wore our first panties for less than five minutes. I pulled on a pair of silky powder-blue-with-white-lace bikinis and my poor cock was unable to cope. I filled the little teasers with a huge load of hot cum almost as soon as I got them on. Mom smiled again, cleaned me up and offered me a red lacy pair that I managed to put on without eruption. Although I was soon hard again.

Francis’ black lace panties were gooed in milliseconds. He came so hard, I thought he would fall over.

Why were we so excited over our articles of imprisonment?

We finally managed to get our slips on, followed by short, tight skirts and plain white blouses, which buttoned "backwards." So much to learn.

Mom then produced our first heels. They were only two inches high and had a clunky heel, but walking in them took some practice.

"You’ll be in four-inch stilettos in no time. And walking like girls."

I could see that Francis had no clue about how to act like a girl, which made him look ridiculous in what was a very sexy outfit. Still, there was some femininity in Francis already and I found it was making me curious about where this was all leading.

At that moment, it led to the make-up table, where Mom was instructing us in the use of foundation, blush, mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick and lipgloss. Mom then did a fine job of making our boyish faces look very feminine. Pretty, even. Very pretty.

Francis had a true, natural beauty. His big, brown eyes were like those of the prettiest girls I had seen. But he was my brother. Not my sister. So it wasn’t real. Unfortunately, that stiffie in my panties was real.

When Mom did my face and showed me the results, I almost peed my panties. I could hardly see Tim in there. It looked like that Neena character that Mom was trying to turn me into. And Neena was some babe!

Except for our hair and flat chests, Francis and I looked like mega-foxes. It was humiliating, but very exciting too. My mind said, "Icky bad," but my libido said, "Yummy good."

Mom topped it all off by producing shoulder-length wigs for us in our natural hair color. She put them on us. I looked at Francis. He was a ten! I looked at myself in the mirror. I was an eleven!!! Now what?

 

Chapter Three – Mom’s Agenda

All I remember about the rest of that day was Mom droning on about walking like a girl and running like a girl (arms out at sides or up in little sissy fists). She said something about not looking at your fingernails with them pointing at you as men do. We were supposed to admire them at arm’s length as a woman does. All I could do was sneak looks at Francis and how hot and girlie he looked. I didn’t want to have sex with him or anything. I kept thinking that I must look as girlie as he did.

How would we ever live through the next few years? How could we live without the carnal company of girls? What girls with high voices would want any part of us, especially when we got boobs.

Boobs. How would I handle those? Literally. Would I be disgusted by them or play with them at the expense of everything else in life?

I haven’t mentioned yet that Francis and I had talents that took up a lot of our time and interest. Francis was a gifted violinist and spent a lot of time getting even better than he was. His reputation and resume when he became Francis again would have a large gap. He certainly couldn’t say he had been a girl during that time. Maybe he could tell Julliard he had been in prison or something more respectable. And what would he tell people at his new school about his prior musical history? Had Mom backed that all up too? Probably.

I had issues too. I was known as a rare math prodigy – the best in a wide area – and wanted to develop that and make a career of it. How could I do that with two changes of gender?

Mom made us a nice dinner, let us stare at some TV for an hour, then put us to bed. She instructed us in the removal of make-up and the use of various creams and lotions we might choose.

Francis and I undressed and slipped on our silky nighties. Mine was red and short, coming only to the bottom of my little pink ball bag. Francis’ was blue and just a little longer. I went tinkle, sitting as Mom had decreed, then brushed my teeth and got in bed.

I was sniffling softly when Francis came over and kissed me goodnight. He had never done that when we were boys, but I felt warm and protected when his warm lips brushed my forehead.

Francis got in his own bed. We looked at each other across the room. Francis was so darned pretty.

I hadn’t cum in about six hours, but the silky nightie and views of Francis had me hard.

Francis said, "I saw you were excited, Timmy. It’s OK if you want to touch yourself. I think we’ll have to do that if we want to keep our sanity."

I took my red poker in hand. It was dripping a lot of goo and very stiff.

Francis said, "It was fun last week at the O’Malley’s, wasn’t it, Timmy? Mary Elizabeth took me to her bedroom and wasted no time. She kissed me, pulled her panties down, got on her back and spread her legs."

That mental picture was working me up to a fine lather.

"Mary Elizabeth’s pussy was already wet. She must have really enjoyed the Super Bowl. But just to be sure she was ready, I started to lick her pussy. She’s very hairy down there and her pussy lubricates very quickly when you get her going. I had her going in no time, She was squirming and squealing and begging me to fuck her. I love when girls do that. I pulled my pants off and mounted her. She grabbed my cock and tried to stuff it right in, but I teased her a little. Then I kissed her, stuck my tongue in her mouth and…..uhhhhh……plunged in. Sorry, Timmy. I’m getting excited."

If Francis was excited, I was hyperventilating with my clear mental picture of Mary Elizabeth stuffed with Francis’ cock and my real-life, moonlit view of a lovely, nightie-clad Francis with a twitching cock, telling a relentlessly erotic tale.

Francis described how his cock felt rubbing against the gooey walls of Mary Elizabeth’s cunt. Then he couldn’t hold back anymore and began to moan and grunt. From across the room, I did the same until, BAM! We each spewed millions of sperm into the inner folds of our pretty nighties.

The weirdness of it all did not escape me as I drifted off to a sound slumber.

 

Chapter Four – Cabin Fever

Mom was not happy about missing mass the next morning, but she knew that Francis and I were not ready for prime time just yet.

That week, she drilled us hard in femininity. Constant, loving corrections were beginning to work on us. By the following Saturday, we were almost passable.

Mom did not neglect our schoolwork, either. Her homeschool program was rigorous and challenging, although I was leagues ahead of Mom and Francis in the math.

On Saturday at noon, Mom suggested we go out for lunch. Francis and I hadn’t been out in eight days and were ready, even if it meant facing the world as girls.

Mom dressed us in dark sweaters and plaid skirts. We wore our wigs and, since there was considerable snow, boots with three-inch clunky heels.

We had figured out how to walk in heels by that time and didn’t have much difficulty, but the new height was challenging. In the boots, Francis was six-feet tall and I was five-ten. We were big "girls," adding to the attention our beauty would draw.

Mom had big, long winter coats for us, which we put on after making one last plea to wear pants on that very cold day.

"Girls wear pants, Mom," Francis said.

"Proper ladies only wear trousers for horseback riding and skiing," Mom said. And that was that.

We stepped outside and felt the cold creep up our skirts and grip our thighs. Cold fear gripped us too, mostly at being spotted as sissyboys and being ridiculed.

As it turned out, the only stares we got that day were based in lust and came from the boys and men fortunate enough to cross our paths.

"No more beautiful trio could be found in Wisconsin," Francis said.

He was right, but still, the fact that two of the lovely trio were boys was disturbing. Wasn’t it?

We enjoyed a light lunch and the attentions of a fawning waiter who couldn’t believe his good fortune. If he had seen Francis’ and my cocks he probably would have puked. Or so I thought at the time.

Then Mom took us for a big treat, seriously. We went to the library. Francis and I loved to read and we loaded ourselves with books. I like murder mysteries and science fiction most. So did Francis, but he also took a couple of teen romances. Why did he do that? Research into the mind of a girl, I guessed and Francis confirmed that diagnosis when I asked him.

All that walking was rubbing my poor little guy against my silky panties and getting me very excited. Sexual excitement was a constant condition for me since I had girlied up a week ago. Strange.

I stopped in the library ladies room, sat to tinkle. Then stroked my poker. I had been cumming six or seven times a day and my poor balls seemed to be manufacturing at wartime production levels. Why was all this so exciting to me?

Being out seemed so dangerous itself. What if a girl opened my stall door by mistake and saw me, by all appearances a teenage mega-babe, stroking my large cock. What would a paradox like that do to the poor girl? I was imagining that she would drop to her pretty knees and take it in her cupid’s bow mouth. She would lick all the pre-cum off as it slithered from the peehole. She would make eye contact with me, teasing me with her eyes as she kissed the velvet mushroom slowly and deliberately. She would lick and suck and groan with pleasure as my cock twitched and my crisis approached. Then she would squeal with delight as hot goo leaped from the head and doused her face with its thick creaminess. I blew a beauty with that picture flooding my mind.

Of course, in real life, we had to consider the possibility that she would run and get a cop saying some pervert was in the ladies room.

We even did a little shopping that day. Francis had told Mom that he didn’t have any navy blue pumps to go with several of his outfits, so we went to the village shoe store. I ended up getting pink mules as well. No sense walking around barefoot in one’s nightie.

The shoe salesman had the time of his life. He caressed our feet as he put them in shoes and tried very hard to look up our skirts to see our panties. Wouldn’t he have been surprised to see what was inside our panties?

All in all, our outing hadn’t been as bad as we had dreaded. So we thanked Mom for taking us. We kissed her and gave her, we hoped, the illusion that we were in full cooperation. Little did she know about our binding, signed-in-blood (almost) pact to become boys again as soon as we were 18. It sure seemed a long way off.

 

Chapter Five – Cabin Days and Nights

Time passed remarkably quickly. The changes were coming very rapidly for Francis and me.

We had learned how to comport ourselves as girls in almost perfect imitation. In our room, however, the pact was firm.

The biggest changes were physical. Mom must have been using industrial-strength hormones, because by May, Francis had perfect B-Cup titties, a slimmer waist, wider hips and a softer voice. I had all that too, except I had C-Cups.

If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought Francis was jealous. The boobs were only temporary, until we were 18 by pact. But Francis almost seemed to like his.

He spent a lot of time looking at his new body in the mirrors we had in our room. I had to admit, it was a spectacular ersatz female body. When he admired himself, wearing only his black stockings, garter belt and four-inch stiletto pumps, I would often have to leave the room. Often I would head for the bathroom, picturing Francis and punishing my little friend until he spurted boy’s cream. Francis was hot and I was so ashamed of my reaction. He was a boy and my brother!

Sometimes I would wear my lingerie and pose in front of the mirror as Francis did. Unlike me, Francis was very open about his reaction to seeing me in stockings and stilettos, with my firm, ripe titties standing tall. Francis would lie on his bed dressed only in his own stockings and heels, skinning his lovely cock and telling me how beautiful I was. Usually, I ended up ruining the mirror and Francis had to change garter belts.

My boobs were spectacular. And they were incredibly sensitive. I mean, all I would do some times was pinch my nipples a little and my pretty panties would be filled with cum.

There were a couple of minor inconveniences to having fantastic boobs. It changed my center of gravity tremendously, affecting my balance and making it even more difficult to walk in the very high heels Mom insisted we wear. But I adjusted to that pretty quickly. As the weather warmed and our boobs blossomed. there was also the issue of the long, lusty stares from men and boys. I dealt with it the only way I knew how, acting haughty and distant. I’m sure I was thought of as the biggest cocktease in the village, but I was just trying to avoid homosex!

Francis had a different approach. He would smile at men and boys now and then, even engaging them in pleasant conversation. I hoped he wasn’t forgetting about the pact!

Not to worry. Francis reassured me many times that he was just exploring the uncharted territory we found ourselves in.

I have to admit that I enjoyed some of it myself. Though I would much rather be giving Mary Catherine O’Malley a preview of heaven, I did spend many pleasant nights in bed, on my back, skinning my prick lovingly as I tickled, pinched, kissed and licked my titties. I would have tremendous, sequential Richter-Scale quality orgasms, as I heard and saw my lovely sister, I mean brother, Francis on the other side of the room doing the same as I.

Francis and I even managed to keep up with our violin and math development. When June arrived, Mom pronounced that we were ready to face Fromage and the life of high school girls.

 

Chapter Six – The New Home

Fromage was very nice and our home was adorable. I mean nice.

Mom had made all the long-range arrangements and we had a home all ready to move into, with all our furniture in place.

The town seemed like a good one, clean and friendly people. The men and boys were very friendly to Francis and me. And to our Mom.

One advantage of pretending to be girls was that Mom didn’t require us to do yard work any more, so she hired a couple of neighborhood teenage boys to take care of things.

Mom enrolled us in a summer reading program and took us by the high school for registration. She had arranged for the orchestra director, Mr. Payton, to audition Francis. He was exorbitant with his praise.

"Vanessa is a huge talent, Mrs. Morgan. I will do everything I can to help her build that talent."

Mr. Payton was a nice man and Mom and Francis seemed very pleased.

Then I met Mr. Kelly, the school’s star math teacher and coach of the school’s three-time-state-champion math team. He was a lot younger than I imagined and very cute!!! I mean, a nice man. No wedding ring. As if that mattered.

Mr. Kelly ran me through some drills and was delighted with my ability. He told Mom, "Neena is going to be the star of our team, Mrs. Morgan."

I loved the praise, but why was my clitty, I mean, my cock so stiff? It was those darn silky panties, I guessed.

The summer wasn’t all nerdish activities. Francis and I were good swimmers and went to the neighborhood pool quite often. Mom, in an impish impulse, had gotten us very brief bikinis. Thankfully, she had also gotten us, via the Internet, devices to hide our equipment. It was a bit uncomfortable, but we got used to it.

We looked great in those bikinis. We didn’t just break boys’ hearts. We stopped them.

The boys must have figured we were in the early stages of joining a convent or something, because we talked to the boys, but resisted their advances. Of which there were many. Varied and multi-faceted.

One of the things that made us attractive was our apparent innocence, combine that with naughty dressing and you create the greatest pheromone known to man.

Another thing that made us attractive was the fact that we had had every girlie thing in the book done to us. We had pierced our ears and waxed our legs and bikini lines (OW!). We had regular manicures and pedicures and our hands and feet were soft and creamy. Our eyebrows were shaped.

And our hair was long, lush and beautiful. We ditched the wigs in April and by July, our hair was shoulder length. We used lots of conditioner and Francis and I gave each other 50 strokes every night. With a brush, silly. On our hair.

Francis and I were both brunettes, but at our last bi-weekly beauty parlor visit before we left the cabin, I added some highlights. No sense looking frumpy, pact or no pact.

The hormones were softening us everywhere it counted. Thank goodness our cocks were still stiff and spewing more often than Old Faithful.

By August, Francis and I were itching for the mental challenges of school. And being apart for a while. I love Francis and always will, but we were spending too much time together.

What made things much worse was the fact that Francis, by his own admission, was very highly sexed at that point in his life. I was too, but I was a step behind him.

When we were in our room, Francis was always masturbating. Watching his lovely, young, female-appearing body in filmy lingerie, writhing in sexual arousal and delight, as he stroked his big, hard, hot cock, was getting to be too much for me. Whenever Francis lay on his back in his black stockings, stiletto sandals and black garter belt, I knew I was going to be heated up. He would stroke his big love muscle until it was hard, the foreskin retreated and the veins protruded. It would leak sticky goo in quarts, which he would massage all over his pole and his pretty pink sack of balls. He never wore a bra when he masturbated and his gorgeous, suckable titties would bounce as he abused himself. His nipples would get stiff and he would squeak like a girl.

I didn’t fault him for that because we both had very girlie voices at that point. Mom was still loading a large glob of hormones into our pretty butts every day.

But it really got to me when he would squeal like a girl and cum buckets. I mean a tsunami. Sometimes he screamed. Like a big sissy. Threatening the pact.

I wondered what Francis thought about when he was doing himself. I wanted to ask, but I was afraid of the answer.

I used to think about fucking Mary Catherine O’Malley. But that was wearing thin. Occasionally, if I weren’t careful, I would have bad thoughts. I would imagine that I WAS Mary Catherine O’Malley and a boy was fucking me. Very bad. I didn’t know how it felt to fuck or be fucked, so my thoughts were vague and the boy was always faceless. But the idea scared me. Because I was a boy. And hetero.

The afternoon before school started, I walked in on Francis pounding his meat. He wasn’t on his bed as usual. He was on his stockinged knees by the window and was looking out as he wanked. He was very excited and strangely, I heard a buzzing. I looked out to see what he was looking at and immediately wished I hadn’t.

The two neighborhood boys who did our lawn were bagging the clippings. They were brothers, Mark, 17 and Luke, 15, and they had their shirts off. Some might call them cute. Francis appeared to be focusing on their bodies as he masturbated. Or, perhaps he was just staring into space outside the window. I hoped.

The buzzing was coming from a large object that Francis had apparently inserted in his anus. It was exciting him very much. So much that, judging by the large puddle of boygoo on the hardwood floor in front of him, he had apparently cum at least once before I arrived. Two or three times appeared more likely.

Poor Francis was whimpering badly and trying to suppress squeals or screams that would alert the boys that they had an admirer. He looked at me in distress, then back at the boys. His pretty eyes widened. We whimpered in equal parts of pain and pleasure and shot four more hot globs of cum into the sticky collection. Francis shook and grunted. His pretty ass wiggled. His cock drooped slightly. But he continued to savage it until it hardened again.

I busied myself at other tasks, but in a few minutes, I heard Francis sob out a little "No," then redouble his efforts on his sore and red big boy. He reached back to the device in his butt and pushed it in until it disappeared. I looked out the window and saw that the boys were putting their shirts back on to leave. Francis cried out softly and quivered as he drooled a thin trickle of cum onto his pretty knees.

The poor guy was a wreck. I helped him over to his bed, waiting until his butt rejected the invader. Using a tissue, I carried the ugly thing into the bathroom. It was purple, gelatinous, and shaped like a cock. It was flecked with Francis’ poop and still buzzing. I would deal with that later. Francis needed my attention.

I sat next to Francis on his bed. He was shaking. I stroked his hair and told him everything would be all right.

"Will you lie next to me, Neena?" he asked me.

My name was Tim, but I agreed to.

I held Francis in my arms as he sobbed.

I was worried about the pact.

 

Chapter Seven – School is In

That night, Francis begged me to sleep with him.

"No funny stuff. Just a cuddle. I need to feel someone next to me."

I agreed and Francis was good to his word. In fact, it was awfully pleasant lying there in our pretty nighties, cuddling together. It’s too bad that boys aren’t allowed to do that sort of thing.

The next morning, Mom sent us off to school in our plaid, pleated skirts, black stockings, and four-inch stiletto heels. I was sure that we would be the only students there in skirts, but Francis seemed very pleased with that. He certainly was friendly to those bad boys who whistled at us when we went in the building.

School was excellent. Great teachers and welcoming kids. Especially the boys. Boys seemed to be wherever I went. The girls were very nice to me too. The more I thought about it, they probably saw me as competition for the boys. Fat chance! The girls were following the Godfather’s advice about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.

The real cherry on the sundae was the Math Team gathering after school. Mr. Kelly introduced me to everyone and they were very welcoming. All except the team captain, a junior named Colin Ryan. He was standoffish and suspicious of me. I knew he was a math star and probably viewed me as a competitor for Alpha status. Well, too bad, Mr. Colin Ryan. Probably a sexist too, who thought girls couldn’t do math. Which we could. If I had been a girl. Confused? Me too.

I especially liked Ginger Manfred, a fellow freshman and the only real girl on the team. We hit it off right away. And she was a cutie! Maybe I could still have a girlfriend, dressed as I was.

Time went by and as we entered October, I was worried about Francis more and more. We slept in the same bed every night and Francis was starting to cross a lot of lines.

Some nights when we were cuddling, I would feel his soft, warm hand on my penis. He started out the first three weeks bringing me to a spunky climax through my silky nightie. Then he began to reach in and love me with his skilled hand on my warm, bare flesh. I felt obligated to return the favor and was afraid of where it was leading.

Ginger and I were becoming great friends, but nothing sexual. Darn. I almost blew my cover with her one day after school. She was telling me all about some boy she liked and how badly he was treating her. I listened briefly, then began to suggest ways she could solve her problem. Ginger stopped talking, looking at me with a "Who are you?" stare. Thanks goodness I realized what I had done. When women tell you their problems, all they want is listening and acknowledgement. When a guy listens to a problem, he tries to solve it. I apologized immediately and listened to the entire tale of woe, saying nothing more complicated than, "How awful for you." Ginger loved our conversation.

The second week of October, Wisconsin’s Green Bay Packers were playing our hated rivals, the Chicago Bears. I always loved football, but for some reason, hadn’t really seen any games that year.

I was determined to see that one, and told Mom and Francis my intentions. They agreed. I made some air-popped, butter-free popcorn (no pork rinds and cheese doodles) and brought it into the family room for us to share as we watched the game.

It was still a half hour until game time and Mom and Francis were watching a movie. I sat between them and killed time by watching.

It was an old movie with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr called "An Affair to Remember." They were such a wonderful couple and deserved to be together, but circumstances conspired to keep them apart until finally and gloriously, they found love and fulfillment. I was weeping openly and so were Mom and Francis. We hugged each other and passed the Kleenex until we were able to stop crying. The station followed that movie up with "Sleepless in Seattle" another movie with the same basic plot. In fact, they kept referring to "An Affair to Remember" throughout "Sleepless in Seattle." It was another four-hankie job and we all had an excellent cry when Meg and Tom finally met and fell in love. When I got off the couch, it never even occurred to me that I had missed the entire football game. I wondered what that meant.

 

Chapter Eight – Michael

Next to Francis, Michael Frazer was the finest musician at Fromage High School. Before Francis arrived, violist Michael was the best – by a long shot. But he didn’t appear to mind being second fiddle to Francis. In fact, he appeared to be smitten by Francis.

Sleeping with me appeared to have taken the edge off of Francis’ sexual desperation. But I was worried when Mom told us that she was inviting the Frazers, including Michael, over for dinner the following Sunday night.

Be strong, Francis.

That Sunday, Francis wore his prettiest dress and spent at least two hours fixing his hair and make-up. Red alert!

Mr. and Mrs. Frazer were lovely people and Mom was charmed by them and their son. Michael was disgustingly solicitous of Francis. He held Francis’ chair, laughed at Francis’ lame jokes and practically fainted whenever Francis smiled at him.

When they were finally leaving, Mom asked me to help her in the kitchen. That left Francis and Michael alone for a few minutes while the Frazers "went outside to get the car."

After Michael left, Francis was walking on air. I wanted to ask him why without Mom around, but he told her in front of me.

"Michael asked me out for pizza and a movie on Friday night. I said yes," the little sissy gushed.

I was horrified. The pact! But Mom was delighted. She hugged Francis and they began discussing what Francis should wear.

In our bedroom, I asked Francis why he was such an idiot and reminded him of the pact.

"I’m sorry, Timmy." Francis said. "But I’m tired of sitting home every weekend. And I won’t find a nicer boy then Michael."

Was all lost? I ran off to the bathroom to cry. That night I slept in my own bed.

I missed Francis and relented on Thursday night, joining him in bed for a little light kissing and some friendly, mutual masturbation. Was all that going to end as well?

I slept poorly that night and dreamed vividly. I was married to Mr. Kelly, the math team faculty advisor. We had a perfect baby and Mr. Kelly, I couldn’t think of his first name in my dream, came home to the baby and me every night. I was dressed in the prettiest frock and Mr. Kelly kissed me perfectly, played with our baby happily, told me all about his day and his feelings. Then I told him all my feelings and he listened without judgment, but with full support. When our baby went to bed, Mr. Kelly went off to shower for bed and I got into the sexiest nightie and put on sweet perfume and killer eye makeup.

In my dream, I lay in bed and wiggled in anticipation of a beautiful fucking from my perfect husband. Mr. Kelly emerged from the shower and joined me on the bed. He had a perfect manly body, very hairy and with a <blush> twelve-inch cock. I kissed and licked its beautiful head and Mr. Kelly groaned with love for me. After some active licking, Mr. Kelly’s cock turned into a cum fountain, spewing cum in big globs. I licked at it happily, swallowing what I could. Mr. Kelly was still very hard. He turned me on my back and entered my asshole smoothly with all twelve inches, and no lubrication. (It WAS a dream.) I squealed with delight as he fucked me, kissed me and played with my clitty. Since I had no idea how being fucked felt, that part of the dream was more vague than the rest. But I felt warm, comfortable and loved.

The dream ended with Mr. Kelly shaking and cumming a large amount of man juice into my delighted asshole as I came all over my flat tummy. Unfortunately, that was when I woke up. I was in a cold sweat and my cock was blowing juice in a 360!

Was I thinking about breaking the pact as well?

 

Chapter Nine – Francis Steps Out

The next evening, Francis put more effort into dressing for a pizza and movie date than any girl or alleged girl in history. I have to admit that in his lovely blue miniskirt, ribbed white sweater, beige stockings and blue heels, he looked fantastic. But why was he doing this? He would be eighteen in less than two years.

Not only that, but the little tramp wore my favorite gold hoops and didn’t even ask me.

He was nervous, but happy. I tried to be happy for him and got very close.

Michael arrived exactly on time, glowing with love. "You look amazing, Vanessa," the poor sap told Francis.

Francis blushed, batted his pretty eyes and said, "Thank you, Michael. So do you."

Michael brought him flowers too. Nice ones. I felt the tiniest tinge of jealousy. No I didn’t. I was a boy.

They went off together and Mom and I watched TV. For some strange reason, Mom then took me to the late movie – a three-hour one. We never went to late movies and Mom hated long movies. Then she left Francis a long note explaining where we were and exactly when we would be home. Strange.

When we got home around 1:15 a.m., I was tired. Michael was just walking to his car and Francis was waving goodbye.

I was very upset when I saw that Francis’ makeup, particularly his lipstick, had been greatly disturbed. He also seemed in way too good a mood for someone who had just been alone with a lustful boy.

When we got to our room, I asked him. "Did you kiss, Michael tonight, Francis?"

Francis got a dreamy look in his eyes and said, "Hundreds of times. It was fantastic! I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I think he loves me."

I wanted to puke. "Was that all you did with him, Francis?"

"For now. I’m not a tramp, Neena."

"My name is Tim, Francis."

"Whatever. Please excuse me. I have to get ready for bed. My balls are sore and blue from all that excitement and no relief. Would you like to give me some?"

My cock stiffened at the thought. But I said, "No thank you."

I lay in bed sobbing at the pact’s imminent demise. And listening to Francis pleasuring himself lustily. Thinking of that BOY he kissed that night.

 

Chapter Ten – Francis Shatters the Pact

The next day, I was sick to my stomach watching Francis giggling with Mom and telling her all about his "date."

I wanted to be happy for Francis but I looked at him and saw Benedict Arnold (or John Walker). The pact should have been above all!

At least school was a sanctuary, but on Monday, even that turned sour. I was running some math drills with the team that afternoon. We were looking sharp. Ginger was with the program, but that buttmunch, our captain, Colin Ryan was so picky to everyone. He was obsessed with perfection. Mr. Kelly, sweet Mr. Kelly of my icky (yummy) dream, was the peacemaker. But then even he faded in my eyes.

You see, we all knew Mr. Kelly was single. Ginger and I would sort of fantasize about him. I was just playing along, of course. But that afternoon, practice ran late because of Colin’s pushiness. So Mr. Kelly’s ride came in looking for him. A gorgeous woman in her mid-20s, whom Mr. Kelly introduced as Ellen, his fiancée.

I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. Twice in three days. My dreams were ruined now, as well as the pact. Of course I would never DO anything with Mr. Kelly. It was just innocent erotic thought. But that WOMAN ruined everything.

Just when I was totally bummed out, Colin came up to me and said, "You’re really good, Neena. I’m glad you’re on our team. I think that, because of you, we can win state again this year."

Then he smiled. For the first time in anyone’s memory. It was a very nice smile. Very nice. And for some crazy reason, my panties got very tight.

 

I forgave Francis, of course, and he and I had cuddles again. I began to suspect that Mom was giving us something to stimulate our sex drive as well as make us girlish, but she would just smile when we asked her. I felt guilty about the I-word nature of it, but we weren’t fucking or anything. Just cuddling each other’s privates. And kissing. No tongue. OK, just a little. But not much. And some exquisite ball massage - a lovely and little-known art.

When his Friday night date rolled around again, everything was as before, including us clearing out for a late, bad movie so Francis and Michael could smooch. I was praying that that was all.

That prayer went unanswered. When Mom and I got home, Michael was speeding off and Francis was in our room getting into his nightie. I said hi, then noticed something that chilled my heart.

"Francis," I asked. "What’s that on your chin?"

Francis looked in the mirror and said, "I believe that’s Michael’s cum, Neena."

It was bad enough that he had started last week to call me Neena. But had he really sucked a boy’s cock? The popcorn I had at the movie was rumbling and threatening to come up.

I whispered loudly, "You sucked his cock? You traitor! You tramp!" Then I did go into our bathroom and hurl.

Oh, I was miserable. The pact was history. I stood alone against evil, like England in late 1940 and early 1941..

Francis tried to hug me, but I resisted.

"Why, Francis? Why?"

"I’m sorry, Neena. I just don’t want to be alone. And Michael is a wonderful boy. He loves me as a girl and I want to be a girl for him."

"Does Michael know about, you know?" I asked.

Francis looked at me directly. "I told him tonight."

I was almost catatonic with fear. "What did he do?"

"He said he loved me anyway. Maybe even more. And then he kissed, licked and sucked my clitty until I came down his beautiful throat. He’s an angel. I really want him to fuck me."

I lay there on my bed, my large chest heaving. Imagining a pact shattering to pieces. Then it hit me. Maybe the pact was a bad idea. Maybe Francis was right (or Vanessa or whatever she wants to be called.) My cock certainly stiffened up when Colin smiled at me that afternoon. And I was a puddle of love dreaming about Mr. Kelly. Maybe I should just see what’s on the other side. Maybe that’s what Francis was doing. Maybe the pact was intact in a different way! Or maybe Francis just wanted to be Vanessa and get fucked in the ass.

For the first time, I was willing to let the girlish feelings wash over me. Or at least trickle. Wash later. Maybe.

 

Chapter Eleven – Vanessa’s Big Night (and mine)

Well, as luck would have it, the following Saturday was the school’s annual fall dance. Michael was humiliated to ask Vanessa at that late date, but she gushed and melted when he asked. She reasoned that it was really the earliest he could have asked. Mom and Vanessa went out looking for a dress and found a stunner. A black strapless number that made Vanessa look like a princess, with a slit that made her look like a hooker. Perfect! Vanessa really did have the body for it. Her legs were spectacular. This time I admitted it. I was jealous.

Michael’s Mom and Dad came over to the house with him for picture taking and to see Vanessa. She was an absolute doll. I told her so and gave her a big hug. And let her wear my favorite black, stiletto sandals.

Poor Neena was not the center of attention that night and I was feeling a bit low when Princess Vanessa and her court departed. Mom and I had a light supper and then the phone rang as we were washing dishes.

It was Colin, the captain of our math team. He had some material he wanted to bring over to me and wanted to discuss strategy for next week’s state finals. I brightened at the prospect of seeing him and asked him over.

Mom asked if she should go see a movie.

I poo-pooed the idea, saying it was math club stuff.

Mom said, if that were all it was, it could have waited until Monday. She said that I shouldn’t worry about her intruding. She would greet Colin and disappear.

I told her that was unnecessary, but part of me wished it weren’t.

Colin arrived 15 minutes later. Mom said hi, then disappeared. He tried to be serious about the math club stuff, but it was a thin ruse.

Finally Colin admitted, "I’ve had a crush on you since the first moment I saw you. I’m sorry I was such a putz. That was my way of denying my feelings, I guess."

That was an interesting development. Why were my ears so warm?

I sat on the couch. Then I patted the seat next to me. Colin obeyed my summons.

"Tell me more," I said.

Colin did. He told me how beautiful and sexy I was, but he said it was my intelligence and good nature that were particularly attractive to him.

My nipples were erect against my bra. And my cock was in red alert. Earned praise is a powerful aphrodisiac.

Then he asked, "Can I kiss you?"

The words, THE PACT, slid across my mind in big red letters. Then my mind blew them up.

"I think so," I giggled girlishly. "And you MAY, too."

Mmmmmm. Colin’s lips covered mine. My body tingled. I was more excited than I had ever been in my life. Who needed Mary Catherine O’Malley?

I clamped my thighs to keep my little secret from being discovered. That was a big mistake. The rubbing was exciting her.

Colin held me in his arms and praised my beauty. This girl stuff wasn’t half bad. Then he kissed my neck. My ears. My eyes. My lips.

I took the reins a bit and gave him the tiniest tip of my tongue. That escalated until we were licking each other’s tonsils. I formed a picture in my mind of Colin’s cock in my butt and my clitty exploded. I trembled and wanted to squeal, but I didn’t want Colin to know I had cum. Good glory, had I cum. It was oozing all over my thighs. Thank goodness I was wearing a dark wool skirt.

I was horribly excited and wanted to eat this young man up, but the time and place were wrong. I kissed him sweetly and said, "That’s far enough for tonight, don’t you think, Colin?"

At that point, Colin would have agreed that the headlines in that week’s Weekly World News were gospel. He calmed down and asked if we could go out some time after the math competitions the following weekend.

I eagerly agreed. I saw him to the door, kissed him, then leaned against the door. Like a tidal wave, the girlish feelings I had resisted for nine months washed over me. I felt wonderful.

 

Chapter Twelve – Debriefing

Mom, of course, wanted a blow-by-blow, although Colin and I didn’t get THAT far. She could see that I had let go of my masculinity and she was very pleased. When Vanessa got into the bedroom at around 4 a.m., I wondered if she was still a girl virgin. Her smile when she told me to go back to sleep was my answer.

Sleep avoided me, so I got in bed with Vanessa and we cuddled in our tiny nighties.

Vanessa kissed me and asked about my night. I told her about kissing Colin and getting so excited I made a big, cummy mess in my panties.

Vanessa squealed with delight, hugging and kissing me excitedly. "I so want you to be happy, Neena," she said. "You took a big, first step tonight. I’m proud of you."

I glowed with the praise. Then I asked her, "So did you let Michael put his thing in you?"

She sighed with pleasure at the recent memory. "Oh, yes! It was fantastic."

Despite myself, I said, "Details. Give me details."

"The sweet boy adores me. He treated me like the world’s most precious jewel and was attentive to my every want and need. If I was an XX girl, that would have been license to treat him like crap, but we special girls know a good thing when we see it."

I agreed. What was it with XX girls anyway? They abuse the nice guys and let the rats abuse them. Oh, well. That leaves more nice guys for us special girls.

"I was the complete center of attention the whole night, and what girl doesn’t adore that? We danced. We talked. I told him my feelings and my problems. He listened. At midnight, the dance was over and he drove me home. You and Mom were asleep, so we went to the family room. Michael kissed my long, creamy neck as he unzipped my gown. It puddled at my feet as I stood there in my lingerie. I faced him and he removed his jacket. Then he kissed me like he meant it. It was wonderful!"

My little clitty was getting all stiff at the thought. I hadn’t cum in more than 30 hours and my little pink bag was full of cummies. Vanessa sensed this and began to tickle my little tee tees, rolling them gently in her pretty fingers.

"We were very steamed up in no time," my sister continued. "And Michael’s clothes disappeared. It was the first time I saw him naked and he’s glorious. So masculine and hard in the right spots. I peeled off my slip and Michael moved in for some embracing and kissing. The bad boy was all over me! I managed to steer him to the couch. I lay on my back, wearing only my bra, panties, black stockings, garter belt and pretty heels (thanks again for the loan). Michael kneeled next to me and gently pushed my bra below my throbbing titties. My big, brown nipples were exposed for Michael’s pleasure. He caressed each one with his talented, violist’s hands. Softly, teasingly. Just as you’re doing to me now, Neena. Ohhhhhh."

Was I doing that? Yes, I was.

"Don’t stop. So good. Then Michael began to kiss my right titty all over. Little flutter kisses that made my clitty all stiff and sore, just as it is now. That’s it Neena, just rub it like that and kiss my nipple a little and I’ll tell you everything. He did the same to my left titty and then he began to suck and lick each one, going back and forth as he rubbed the front of my wispy panties. I moaned with lust as he brought me to Heaven’s Gate, then he pulled me in. I closed my eyes, trembled, then squealed in sweet release. Cum filled my tiny panties as the rogue kept adoring my breasts. He was very good. Just as you are. Use your thumb there. That’s it. Oh, Sweetie, that’s so…..Oh……..Neena, you’re…….Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!"

Vanessa made a huge mess all over my fingers and her cute nightie. Oh, well.

After breathing heavily, Vanessa said, "Let me do you for a while. Lay back. That’s a good girl. Well. Michael peeled off my cummy panties and asked me if I had lubed my little hole. I looked at him innocently and said no, but he could do it with his <blush> mouth if he wanted. Michael got an evil look in his eye. Then he stood me up while he sat on the couch. He turned me so that my derriere was in his face. Then he parted my cheeks with his thumbs, sighed deeply and put his tongue on my anus ring. Oh, Sweetie, you have to have Colin do that to you. It’s absolute heaven! He tongued my dirty place as if it were a Dairy Queen special. It was so intense, I could barely stand on my big heels. My knees were weak. And my clitty was outrageous. It was just so dirty and exciting. I looked over my shoulder at the man at work and saw that his flag was waving. As much as I was enjoying the preliminaries, I wanted dessert. So I inquired if he was in the mood to fuck me. I believe that putting me on my back, and placing my calves on his shoulders was a positive response to my question. Is this story exciting you, my dear sister?"

I moaned. My clitty was twitching from the delicious friction and the hot story.

"I see it is. I looked into Michael’s eyes and saw love and something else. Gratitude. He was truly grateful that I was on this earth and there with him. It was an intense aphrodisiac. So was that big cock, whose eye was staring at me, then moving to my now-relaxed pussyhole. He posed it at the entrance, then said, ‘I love you, Vanessa.’ I smiled and grunted, too aroused for articulation. He pushed. I gasped. It was in. He pushed again. I squealed. It was all in. I began to cry with joy as my nasty virginity slunk away. The cock in my butt was the center of my world. I was in paradise. Oh, Honey, I think you’re about to make a visit there yourself. That’s it. Let it go. Oh. That was a big one. Oh, another. Ooooh. More? You really needed that. Just little dribbles now. It’s OK to whimper, Sweetheart. Colin will give you everything I got from Michael. We’re girls now, Sweetie. We control sex and can have it whenever we want."

With that comforting thought, I dropped off to sleep.

 

Chapter Thirteen – Practice

After Vanessa’s story, I wanted Colin’s rammer in my tiny place as soon as possible. But the opportunity just wasn’t there. The Math Team had a major competition in Madison on Saturday and Colin seemed to be tied up with that.

At lunch on Wednesday, however, Colin told me that he had reserved room 305 for Math Club practice today during 7^th period. As the captain, he had gotten me excused from my class and we would be alone for practice.

My clitty was dripping steadily from lunch until 7^th period. What was that bad boy planning? I hoped it was really naughty.

I showed up for practice on time and was disappointed to see the math books spread out. What kind of lover did I have here? He greeted me with a shy, "Hi."

I returned his "Hi," looking down shyly, then batting my beautiful eyes at him.

We looked at each other. He looked as if he were about to burst. Then he did. "You’re all I could…."

I blurted, "Ever since Saturday, I wanted…." We flew to each other’s arms and kissed greedily. Oh, it was so passionate and my clitty was standing tall. I had to hide it or……Too late. He had me in a clinch and my sore jewel was rubbing against his crotch. What would he do? He kept kissing me, passion building to a boil. I stopped kissing him and stared, amazed.

He stopped kissing me, smiled and said, "What? Oh, this?" He fondled my doodle through my skirt and slip. Nicely. "Your mother called me Sunday and told me everything. She wanted to make sure I treated you well."

What a meddlesome Mom! And a sweet one.

Colin broke our embrace and I whimpered softly. But he was only propping a chair under the doorknob so we wouldn’t be surprised. He came back and said, "Where were we?" And he kissed me sweetly, reaching under my skirt around my right hip and into my panties to caress my bottom with his left hand and rubbing my clitty though my panties with his right. Kissing me all the while. With lots of yummy tongue. In my mouth. It was so exciting and we were right in school. In danger of being discovered. Any minute. Rubbing. Kissing. Stroking my soft, delicious butt. More kissing. He was very excited. I could feel it though his pants. There was a big wet spot forming at the tip of his cock and dripping on his pants. But he didn’t remove them. He was concentrating on my pleasure. Which there was a lot of. Intense. Kissing. Rubbing. Fondling. Oh, mama! My clitty was throbbing as he rubbed my panties. It was all atingle. I winced at the intensity. Oh, the sweet agony. My balls seized up and bloooie, a big mess in my panties. I squealed. He smiled. Another big mess in my panties. I squeaked. A third mess. I whimpered, trying to catch my breath.

I fell to my stockinged knees in front of Colin and his cock magically appeared. It was spectacular! Ridges and veins and a big brown foreskin covering a purple, velvet mushroom. Yes! I inspected it carefully, fondling every inch and paying lots of attention to his big, heavy bag, laden with yummy boygoo. Colin moaned with appreciation. I kissed his wrinkled bag, then all along his warm shaft. By the time I reached his peehole, he was in some sexual distress. Goody. I was barely able to get the whole head in my mouth, but I licked it like the world’s tastiest all-day sucker.

I had crossed the line. I was now a cocksucker. And happy to be one. I felt the smooth crown on my pallet and the ultra-sensitive "arrowhead" along my tongue. My giggling and gurgles of appreciation, together with some excellent tongue work, had him jumping out of his skin. What would I do when he exploded? As I was pondering that, Colin muttered something loving, I think, grunted, and let a big sticky glob fly into my willing gullet. Then another. And three more. I swallowed as fast as I could, nearly choking, but girlfully taking my man’s best shots. It was heavenly to be able to bring him such pleasure.

Colin thanked me dearly, then laid me on the big teacher’s desk. He kissed me softly, then pulled my tiny, cum-soaked panties down to my thighs. He scooped some of my big load onto his fingers, then asked me to raise my legs. The bad boy put his cum-filled fingers into my ass! Then he found my prostate and things really got hot. How did he ever learn how to do thaaaaatttt? Ohhhhhhhhh! It was incredible. I was stiff as ever in nanoseconds. He was reaching into my sexual soul.

Then he kicked it up a notch. As he was taking me to new places with his fingers, he breathed on my balls. That’s all. Breathed. It felt better than when Mary Catherine O’Malley sucked my cock a lifetime ago. Every pore, every hair was on fire. He breathed on my shaft. Ohhhhhhh. Then he blew a thin stream of hot air all over my clitty head. While rubbing my poor prostate. With my own cum. Holy Toledo! He hadn’t touched my clitty and I was ready to go into orbit. Softly, almost imperceptively, he kissed my right testicle. Aaaaaah. Then my left. Uhhhhh. This was cruel and unusual. He applied the same phantom kisses along my throbbing, agonized shaft. Nothing in my experience or imagination prepared me for the moment when he applied the ghost kisses to the soft, arrow-shaped underside of my clitty head. My bottom clenched his fingers. My back arched. My big, brown nipples erected. I screamed softly (thank goodness). My clitty jerked and spewed, jerked and spewed. I saw a bright light and a figure beckoning me. Well. Maybe not, but almost. I was almost KIA. That was the single greatest moment of my life.

This girl stuff was all right.

Things were happening quickly. Colin was rampant again and rubbing my cum on his cockhead. He spread my legs and placed them on his shoulders. I wanted to dig my high heels into his back and draw him into me. He placed the wet tip of his big boy at my wrinkled rosebud. I felt it poised to enter. I was going to be fucked. Yesssss!

Knock. Knock. "Colin! Neena! Are you in there?"

It was Ginger, at the worst possible moment. I whimpered. Colin said, "Soon, my Love." Let’s get dressed.

His love. Mmmmmm.

"Just a minute," I said.

I slipped my cummy panties into my book bag. Colin put his disappointed, but unbowed champion in his pants and I answered the door.

"Sorry to disturb you," Ginger said. "But the schedule has been changed and the chess club will be coming into that room in three minutes. I thought you would want to know."

Ginger saved us. I hugged her and thanked her.

Ginger said, "You know, you and I are rooming together in Madison on Saturday night and Colin and Dave are too. Maybe after Mr. Kelly makes his bedchecks, we can trade rooms. Dave and I like each other and by the smell in here, so do you and Colin. <Giggle>"

"But," I asked, "Won’t Mr. Kelly be checking on us more than once? "

"His fiancée is coming on the trip. I think he’ll be too busy to interfere."

What a good friend Ginger was.

 

Chapter Fourteen – Game Day

I told Vanessa about sucking my first cock and she squealed and jumped like Christmas. I also told her about my near miss.

"Did you want to be fucked, Neena?" she asked.

"Very much," I answered honestly.

"Then it seems like Saturday will be the day."

I certainly hoped so.

On Saturday, the Math Team piled into the school van and we were off to Madison. Ellen, Mr. Kelly’s fiancée, rode with us. She wasn’t supposed to be with us, but I for one, was not about to rat her out. I no longer wanted to scratch her eyes out and her entertainment of our coach was the key to me getting diddled that evening. Mmmm.

That afternoon, we skunked those pathetic losers from Madison by a whole half point. To celebrate, we had a pizza party at the hotel’s indoor pool. I wore my skimpy bikini from last summer, and that gaff thing to contain my excitement. I got a lot of looks from passers-by, as well as the male Math Team members. Unless my vision was failing, I think I got some looks from Mr. Kelly, which explained why his shin was bruised. Ellen was watching him closely.

I may also have gotten some of those looks from Ginger, which was a development I hadn’t considered and wasn’t sure interested me any more. Still, it was nice to have options.

Colin was firing those looks my way and I was firing them back at him. He and I were going to make beautiful music that night.

The party broke up at ten. Ginger and I went back to our room, took showers, alone, darn it, and primped for our big nights. Ginger had the cutest little white nightgown and peignoir. I had a tiny pink babydoll with matching skimpy panties and even wore pink, seamed stockings and pink, fluffy, four-inch-heeled mules. We flipped for who was going to leave the room and Ginger lost. At eleven, Mr. Kelly made his bedcheck and gulped when he saw us in our sexy finery. Fifteen minutes later, I traded a Ginger for a Colin.

Colin was nude in seconds and all mine. The one-time sourpuss couldn’t stop smiling. He hugged and kissed me and said, "Tonight, you’re getting a twofer."

What did he mean?

"You’re going to cum twice for every time I cum. And I’m going to cum a lot."

Oooooo.

He kissed my neck and shoulders making me gasp with delight. He mumbled that he loved my perfume. I smelled his manly cologne and sexual excitement.

No one had ever really kissed my titties, but it appeared that was about to change. Colin laid me on my back and kissed me up and down, ending up at my right breast. I wiggled as he licked my nipple through my nightie, then pulled the filmy cloth over my breast to expose an erected treasure of love. Soft kisses and licks were applied to each breast. A determined hand found my clitty in my barely-there panties. He kissed. He stroked. I squealed and bedewed his fingers with my first emission of that glorious night. Colin rubbed my hot cum all over my balls and continued to kiss my breasts, praising them each time he raised his lips. A girl does like to know she’s beautiful. The cum rubbing on my balls was very naughty and the titty-kissing, oh, oh. I felt the little ping. Then a bigger pong. Then I writhed to another delicious cum. Oh, that boy, Colin.

The sweet boy told me he wanted to relax me some more before he pierced my pooper, so he lay on his back and asked me to reverse and ease my bottom down on his face. I had come twice and he had not yet spilled a sperm. But he seemed unconcerned. His pooper poker was perky, however. I decided to follow an agenda I was enjoying immensely.

I was about to have my tiny hole licked and my stiffie was back already. Colin parted my cheeks gently with his thumbs and gasped at the beauty if my little pink hole. He extended his tongue gently, then licked around the entrance. Oh, no. I couldn’t be cumming already, could I? Aaaaaaaaaaahh. I was. Uuuuuuuuuh. I was such a little cummer. Big airborne spurts landing on Colin’s flat tummy.

And still he licked. Then he dug his tongue into the hole. I had a vision of paradise. And my cock was, though it was nearly impossible to imagine, rock-hard again. Colin dug and licked until, crying and shivering with passion, I came yet again.

I liked this boy.

Four for me, none for Colin. He had some catching up to do.

I flipped on my back, cranked my knees up, whimpered, and begged him to fuck me NOW! Not wishing to disappoint a lady, he put my pretty, pink-stockinged calves on his shoulders and placed his poker at my hole. The big teaser just looked at me.

"Please!" I screamed. "Fuck me!" I wondered idly if anyone was in the next room. If so, they were getting a hell of a show.

Colin pushed and my life was complete. I was being skillfully, lovingly fucked by a wonderful young man. I felt every pore of his cock as it entered me. I squealed and squirmed to get it all. I was grunting in a very unladylike way, every time he thrust in me. I was ravenous of his cock. I wanted it in me, on me and through me. I wanted his cum on every inch of my beautiful body.

I was every man’s dream. A beautiful girl with a teenage boy’s sex drive.

Colin was enjoying himself immensely. He leaned over and kissed me frequently and through rests at critical moments, was able to hold off his orgasm for about 20 minutes. Then he could hold no more. The point of no return seemed to surprise him. And me. I had stayed soft during the entire fuck, probably due to my previous, multiple dewings. But his obvious distress was exciting me to a half-stand. Was I going to cum when he did? I was. Oh my. I was. He squinted. I squinted. He scrunched his handsome face. I scrunched my work of art. I drooled out three soft globs of girlie goo and whimpered loudly from the sweet torment. Colin groaned and released a torrent of his manly seed to my eager butt. We shook. We formed a sheen of sweat on our bodies. We moaned and came and came and came.

We flopped on our backs, chests heaving after our near-death cums. I cuddled next to him silently, crying with girlish joy. Colin kissed away each tear. He was a keeper.

I was now leading five to one and wasn’t sure that my body could tolerate another eruption like the last one for at least five years. Taking the offensive, I scooted down to Colin and took his limp cock in my mouth and nursed it gently. I knew it had flecks of my poop on it, but that made it even nastier. And sexier.

As I sucked, Colin told me I was the girl he had always dreamed of. I must have been doing it right, because in ten minutes, his Johnson was once again bold and beautiful. I licked his balls and he liked that very much. After twenty minutes of some talented attention, if I do say so, to Colin’s pubic region, his balls seized and he erupted in my pretty face. Oh, how I loved having a face full of my lover’s hot cum. It was so intimate and it made him so happy!

I called timeout to wash my face and tune up my make-up, then left the ball in his court.

We talked of love and cuddled for a while. Then he sat up and peeled down my pretty stockings, removing them slowly. What was this?

Oh, did I find out! Colin held my right foot to his mouth and kissed my pretty, painted toes. Mmmm. Then he licked them. Ohhhh. Then he sucked each one and licked the area between each toe with plentiful saliva. Wowie, zowie!!!

Girls, you must try that. Run don’t walk to have your man lick your tiny digits.

Colin did the same to my other foot and my clitty found resurrection. Hard and throbbing without being touched. Maybe it was the intimacy of the act, but steam was coming from my ears and three hot jets of cum leaped from my exhausted-but-apparently-not-dead little girlfriend.

My goodness. I had cum six times to Colin’s two. Would I survive this boy?

Colin was stiff again and asked me to lie on my side. I did, hoping I wouldn’t need to go to the Emergency Room when all this was over.

He entered me lovingly while we were in the spoon position. I was still wet and loose, so entry was smooth and delightful.

Colin kissed my neck and shoulders and, when I turned my head, my lips, as he fucked me slowly and luxuriously. I must have lost track of time, but I would guess we were at it for an hour. I did not get hard again that night, but as Colin grunted through his Olympian pleasure, I was hit by a freight train cum. I fell off the tracks and down an embankment. The train jumped the track and came back to run me over again. But all my limp noodle produced was two watery drops.

I was fucked out.

And so was Colin. Even though I had cum seven times to his three. He asked if I would hold the odd one and credit it to his account for next time. Done.

It was 3 a.m., a good time to sneak back into the assigned rooms. I sniffled a little saying goodbye to Colin, but knowing Mom, she wouldn’t have minded if I brought him home and we fucked on the kitchen table. I told him so and he laughed. We would have many wonderful adventures together.

 

Chapter Fifteen – Finishing Business

Three months later, Vanessa and I were in our room discussing our wonderful lives.

Michael, we both agreed was wonderful to Vanessa. He adored her and treated her regally. Colin was the greatest lover on earth and worshiped every part of me, even my toes <giggle>.

Life was good. But that particular weekend, we were alone. Colin was out of town at a family wedding and Michael was with his parents visiting colleges.

Mom was with her new boyfriend. A truly nice man named Bret, who had changed Mom’s murderous attitude about men. Mom wouldn’t be home until ten. And she promised she would call first. An hour ahead. She was always looking for us to get lucky.

Vanessa reviewed our position and asked if I was feeling daring.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked.

"Remember last summer when I was in a bit of a dither and looking out the window at those boys who did our lawn?"

"Mark and Luke? Sure. It wasn’t your fault, Vanessa. You were totally frustrated."

"True, Sweetie. But it’s a loose end for me, you know?"

"I don’t get it."

"We have wonderful boyfriends, but you know we’re highly sexed and they’re not here. We should maybe invite Mark and Luke over, you know. And fuck them."

The idea stirred my clitty. "But what if Colin and Michael find out."

"We cry. We beg their forgiveness and we have some incredible make-up sex."

That sounded great. "Do you think Mark and Luke would agree?"

"They’ll be here in an hour and they’re cool with our secret. They know the ass stops if they talk."

Do you believe her? My sister the tart. How wonderful.

"And there’s another reason I invited them, Neena."

"What’s that?"

"I really want to watch you getting fucked. I want to see your face as a boy fills you with cum. I want to watch a boy make you cum."

Oooooo. "OK."

We sissied up for the boys and within half an hour we were on our backs with their large cocks pounding our asspussies. Our titties were making flopping sounds as the boys pushed and pulled.

Vanessa and I were lying next to each other and studying each other’s responses. We were so much alike. I reached over and began to frig Vanessa’s gorgeous clitty. She did the same to mine. That drove the boys insane with lust and they belabored our pretty butts unmercifully. As I felt myself about to cum, I leaned over and kissed my sister, sticking my tongue down her pretty throat. She convulsed and joined me in paradise. Who were those boys again?

My tummy was covered with my own cum, my butt was drooling Luke’s, my fingers were doused with Vanessa’s.

It was wonderful.

I wondered whether Mr. Kelly really had a twelve-inch cock. And I wondered what it would feel like in my butt.

It occurred to me that with very little effort, I could find out.

I love being a girl.

 

 

 

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