This is a simple Pulp Fiction type story about how a 16-year-old's secret crossdressing fantasy comes to life after he forgets to adequately cover his tracks. It doesn't take long to work out who is responsible when clothes from his mother's Mail Order Catalogue unexplainably arrive on their front door. Having unknowingly paid over $800 for the clothes he thought had been ordered by his wife, the boy's father is going to make sure they are not going to be wasted.

 

The Catalogue

by Catherine Rose

 

Chapter 1 – How It All Started

 

I was putting out some old newspapers into our paper recycling box when I noticed a Mail Order Fashion Catalogue among the discarded advertising brochures. My mother received these regularly, throwing them out once she finished with them. It was then my turn to secretly go through them, wishing all the time that I could be the ladies in the pictures, able to wear such beautiful clothes instead of being consigned to wearing boring old menswear.

I'd been doing this way for as long as I could remember, secretly trying on my sister's and more recently my mother's clothes. I hated myself for it, of course, because boys were not meant to do these sorts of things. But I just couldn't help myself, especially since that day I was quietly watching a children's show on TV on my own when I was 6 years old.

"The Happy Show" had all the children sitting together as a backdrop to the stage while their parents sat separately in the main body of the auditorium. The compere, "Happy Hammond", would mingle around the kids trying to engage them in conversation by asking pointless questions. When he asked one "girl" about her pretty party dress, she predictably replied that it was her mother who had got it for her. But when he asked her her name, the answer he received, "Kevin", wasn't quite get what he expected.

This boy's humiliation on national TV struck a very personal chord in that his name and age were exactly the same as mine. It would be an understatement to say that this chance event had a profound effect on me. My mind went into a tailspin. I couldn't believe what this boy had been put through – being forced to dress as a girl would have been bad enough… having to pass off as one in public was a million times worse… but to then be exposed in front of so many people… and to have to stay that way for the rest of the show… this was terror beyond belief. Yet, the thing that tortured me the most was that I wished I had been that boy!

My secret fantasy from that day on became being made to dress up as a girl. I would be forced to do this repeatedly until wearing girl's clothes became a habit. Habit would slowly turn to pleasure as I started to enjoy my life as a girl. I would become so comfortable in this role that it became my normal way of life. By this time, I wouldn't want to go back to my old life even if I had any choice. My transformation into a girl would have become complete, all done against my will but with few complaints about the result.

Fantasies, of course, rarely come true, so I had to settle for acting them out myself in secret. I had become pretty good at it over the years, not only developing my own tastes in women's fashions but also becoming an expert in folding clothes along the way (ie. my sister's and mother's - so as not to be found out). Through it all, over 10 years of stealth, I had not put a foot wrong, at least not until I picked up that catalogue from the recycling box that day.

As always, I went through the pages picking out my favourite clothes. There were many I didn't fancy at all and would often wonder why women who had the freedom to basically wear whatever they liked could waste their choices on such weird clothes. Invariably, however, lurking among the pages of these catalogues, there would be items of clothing that I could "die for" to be allowed to wear.

And so it was this time that I went to the centrefold and filled out the order form with the style number, description, size and colour, quantity and price, of my imagined selections. I tallied the items to $842.00, including priority delivery which came for free because of the order size. It seemed an astronomical amount compared to my paltry allowance, yet not too bad considering it included 21 items ranging from underwear and sleepwear to skirts, pants and tops to a couple of sets of swimwear and a couple pairs of shoes.

After reluctantly awakening from my little daydream, I shoved the catalogue to the bottom of the recycling box fully expecting that it would be the last anyone would ever see of it. Imagine my horror when I came home one day to find my mother buried in a large box, delivered to her by a courier, with the very same items I had been fanaticising about less than a week earlier.

You could probably imagine the confusion in our house that night as the mystery appearance of these clothes unravelled. It turned out that the bottom of the recycling box had fallen out while my father was taking it outside. Seeing the catalogue fly open he naturally assumed that it had been my mother who had written out the order and had simply forgotten to post it out. Consequently, he filled out my mother's mailing address and credit card details, folding it into a prepaid letter that he left out with the other bundle of letters waiting to be posted the next day.

As luck would have it, my mother was staying late that night at the University library to research an assignment due for the Counselling course she was taking part time. By the time she returned home my father had long gone to bed as he always got up early and was out of the house before anyone else was even up. By the time my father and mother next saw each other, the matter of the letter was long forgotten, replaced by the dramas of the new day.

So what happened with the letter? My mother gave me all the mail that morning as I rushed out the door on my way to school. Without looking at any of it, I merely dropped it in a mailbox along the way, totally oblivious to irreversible consequences I had just set in motion.

As I stood in the shock disbelief of seeing my mother rummaging through my clothes, I was filled with a mixture of confused feelings. Part of me just wanted to die, or at least to wake up to find that this nightmare was not real. Another part, however, wanted to grab the clothes from her and race upstairs to try them on.

"Then who filled out that order form in the first place?" came the cry as piece by piece the story came together.

All eyes turned to me as my already embarrassed face went even redder than red can be.

"This has got to be the dumbest stunt you have ever pulled," yelled my father angrily. "Your prank has just cost me eight hundred bucks."

My mother and sister were by this time seeing the funny side of things but this seemed to only enrage my father all the more.

"Since I appear to be the laughing stock of this family, I may as well get in on the joke myself by making sure I get my own money's worth of entertainment," ranted my father. "Seeing you are the one who ordered all this stuff, Kevin, you better start putting it all on so that it doesn't go to waste."

My mother and sister just broke up into uncontrolled fits of laughter. Between my father's menacing rage and their frivolity, I was soon standing naked in the lounge room as my mother and sister fumbled with the pink laced bra and the matching laced panties.

"No," bellowed my father. "Let him put them on himself. He's made his own bed, so he can climb into it himself."

In my terror, I slipped into the panties and clipped the bra on a little too quickly, hoping no one had noticed my inexplicit expertise. I eased up the dusky pink floral printed skirt and adjusted the elasticised waist so that the mid-length bias cut hem rested perfectly around my calves. As I deftly buttoned the dark pink sleeveless shirt and slide on my patent leather moccasin mules, I wondered if anyone thought much about how well everything fitted. Fortunately, there was just too much emotion flying about at the time for anyone to notice such subtleties.

I stood shaking from the horror of being dressed as a girl in front of other people for the first time as commotion continued to reign all around me with people running left, right and centre.

"You look so lovely, my dear," exclaimed my mother wildly snapping photos of me with her Polaroid.

"I simply have to fix my new sister's make-up," shrilled my sister as she brought out her make-up bag from the bathroom.

"You're gonna have to wear those clothes until you wear them out," roared my father.

In the midst of it all, I was too frozen to know if to laugh or cry.

   

Chapter 2 – Introducing Lorraine

You might have expected that this turn of events would have been a dream come true for me. Yet having hidden my secret hobby so well for so long, things had moved along a little too fast for comfort. While I had been accustomed to wearing women's clothes, it had always been in the safety of my own hideaway. To suddenly be walking around in full view of my family dressed entirely in women's clothes was quite frightening.

To make matters worse, I could almost hear everyone's minds ticking over about the significance of their discovery.

"You seem to have mastered the art of wearing a skirt quite well," complemented my sister with a sly grin as we sat down to dinner.

"What should we call from now on?" asked my mother to break the silence.

"Lorraine," I replied, once again a little too automatically.

"Lorraine!" my mother repeated to herself. "That's a lovely name. I think it suits you very well."

"We'll soon see how he likes it after having to live as a girl for a while," bellowed my father.

The realisation that I was actually wearing my own clothes, not my mother's or my sister's, was also somewhat unnerving. This was brought home to me all the more when I went upstairs to my room to ready myself for bed. Having to hang up my skirt and shirt in my own wardrobe, and to then have to fold my bra and panties away in my chest of drawers felt both weird and strangely wonderful.

But the pleasure of slipping into my chemise, which had been left out for me on the bed, sent me off into another world. The soft pastel pink colour was even nicer than it looked in the catalogue and the feel of the satin fabric against my skin with lace trim across my chest just blew my mind.

I couldn't wait to put on the matching kimono and feel the delicate lacing on the sleeves stroke my arms. I admired myself in the mirror with my left leg slightly forward so that the lacing of the side split straddled my leg. I was in heaven. I couldn't believe that clothes I had been craving for less than a week earlier were suddenly adorning me.

"Lorraine," came my mother's voice from behind the door. "Your father insists that you model for us what you are going to be sleeping in tonight."

Getting used to being referred to by girlie name was another novel experience.

"Yes, mum," I replied obediently, giving myself one last glance in the mirror before venturing out of my hideaway with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

"That's lovely," gasped my mother. "I wish I was brave enough to wear something like that."

"Thanks, mum," I replied nervously wondering whether it was meant as a compliment or not.

My father's comments on seeing me are best not repeated. He basically emphasised how pleased he was to have two daughters and how much he was going to enjoy seeing his newest daughter adjusting to her new life. He kept referring to me as she as if I wasn't really there while my mother kept urging him to use my proper name, Lorraine, by repeating it every time for him.

Falling asleep that night wasn't easy after such excitement and the name Lorraine kept reverberating in my mind as I finally dozed off.

   

Chapter 3 – The Next Morning

Being Saturday the next day, my clothes had already been pre-determined. I went down to breakfast in my chemise and kimono and was inwardly reluctant to have to part with them for the new day.

Slipping back into my bra and panties soon put paid to this reluctance as I revelled in the beauty of my new undergarments. It felt weird putting on my printed stretch pants, weird because of the floral pattern and because the zipper did up on the opposite side. The lace top with separate camisole was absolutely delightful, perfectly complementing the pants as I thought they would. I slipped on my moccasin mules from the night before. Surveying myself in the mirror I thought my outfit was perfect for a casual Saturday.

I went downstairs to more of the same reaction from my family as before.

"Oh, girlfriend. We are going to have to go shopping together so you can help me choose some clothes for me," ribbed me my sister.

"You look very summery, Lorraine," cooed my mother.

"I hope you like your new clothes, you little wussy," derided my dad.

But as the summer sun heated up the day, it was clear I would soon be changing clothes yet again.

"Why don't you take Lorraine for a swim in our pool?" suggested my mother to my sister. "She's picked out some lovely swimwear for herself.

I had to pull my penis back between my legs to be able to fit the "V" Front Banded Pants and was shocked to find how the Shelf Bra Cami Top lifted my chest to almost look like I had breasts. My sister insisted on putting on the adjustable Tri-Top matching Hipster Pants, and my mother was more than obliging with her camera.

I felt strangely comforted around my sister in a way I had never felt before as if allowing myself to be a bit girlie around her had brought us closer together. I still felt pretty embarrassed by it all but I was also starting to be aware of how much I was enjoying myself.

We splashed about in the pool with my sister seemingly friendlier than she had ever been towards me.

"I always wanted a little sister," she confided as we sun baked ourselves dry. "I hated you for being a boy. But that doesn't matter now that we've discovered Lorraine."

I managed to keep my mouth shut this time, but secretly I was as excited about Lorraine as she was.

A sudden wave of excitement came over me as we went upstairs to change, realising that my next outfit would probably be laid out for me in my room. I wasn't disappointed as I opened the door to my room to find the elegant skirt and shirt from page 52 of the catalogue hanging on the door handle waiting for me.

Putting on my bra and panties was becoming second nature by now but I briefly wondered how long I would manage with only one set. As I did up the invisible side zip of the mechanical skirt with the graduated waist and side front split, I remembered how the simple elegance of the outfit was what attracted my attention in the first place. I shivered as I did up the buttons on the perfectly ironed pinstriped poplin shirt. I slide my feet into the Cross-Over Slides and stood transfixed at my reflection in the mirror.

This was enough for me, I thought. I wanted to live like this forever. I thought back to what my sister had said and realised that I too hated myself for being a boy. I wanted to be able to wear these type of clothes all the time.

This time I felt no embarrassment as I walked downstairs to front my family again, only pride. They may have forced me into wearing these clothes but little did they know that they would have a hard time getting me out of them from now on. At any rate, there were still two outfits yet to be worn so that tomorrow should be well taken care of.

   

Chapter 4 – The Story Continues

My satin nightwear was the perfect way to begin and end the day and I made a point of hanging around in my kimono for longer than I might have otherwise.

"It's time to put on your next outfit, young lady," jeered my father. "Don't think you're going to get out of this now."

It was another perfect morning, sunny but not yet that warm, ideal for wearing the white cotton cardigan and the blue bias cut georgette print skirt with the fully elasticated waist, flounce hem and soft stretch knit lining.

My sister urged me to walk down to the beach with her and at first I couldn't contemplate any thing more frightening. But she wouldn't let up and after she helped me with my hair and make-up, I thought I looked pretty enough to make a passable girl.

As I stepped out in my buckled thongs, I realised how scary it must have been for that 6 year old boy on TV many years ago to have to walk out into the open dressed as a girl. However, I felt so wonderfully feminine that I soon stopped caring about anything else other than how enjoyable it felt to be free to walk around as I was.

It was another sisterly moment with her stirring me along the way that the male heads that turned towards our direction were directed at me. I wouldn't have any of it, of course, but the thought that someone might find me attractive was secretly very pleasing. I found myself behaving a little more girlishly than I would have expected, probably from hanging around with my sister too much.

It was starting to warm up so we went back home and slipped into our swimsuits as the day before. I did not dare venture out this way into the ocean, preferring the seclusion of our backyard swimming pool instead. After another perfect afternoon, it was time again to get changed, this time into my final outfit.

I wasn't altogether sure what had appealed to me about this outfit. I think I liked the linen blend skirt with its front split because it was a bit more mature than the other styles I'd chosen. Feeling like a sophisticated woman felt nice and the sleeveless linen blend shirt with its embroidered floral hem complemented it perfectly. The "V" Throat Slide had a slightly higher heel to it, which accentuated my feelings of adult femininity.

By this time I was way past all embarrassment and was giggling way with my sister as if we had been girlfriends all along, much to the annoyance of my father. My mother, on the other hand, seemed to be quite pleased with things treating me as if everything about me was quite normal. I loved hearing my name Lorraine more and more, and very pleased with my choice.

"I hope you've learnt your lesson," called out my father as I reluctantly made my way off to bed again feeling delightful in my chemise and kimono.

Indeed I had, although, perhaps not as my father might have hoped.

    

Chapter 5 – The Story Ends … Or Just Begins

My mother watched in stunned surprise as I came down to breakfast the next morning still wearing my favourite nightwear.

My sister shrieked in delight

"Lorraine wants to stay," was all I said as I sat myself down to breakfast.

 

To Be Continued …

© 2002

   

    

    

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