by: Julie
Part 1
Tomorrow would be the last day of fifth grade, and I was really looking forward to summer. Upon getting home and inhaling dinner, I tore off on my bike down the sidewalk, in a hurry to get over to my friend Gary’s to talk about summer vacation and our coming months of freedom ! Yaaaay ! … Near the end of the block a lady was backing out of her driveway; … and nearly ran me over ! I swerved, lost control, and went sprawling. …. But I quickly jumped up, and took off pedaling down the street again as she yelled after me. What a bitch. ! She almost runs me over, and SHE’S yelling at ME ! If I hadn’t been in a hurry, I would have gone back to set her straight.
There were several of my friends horsing around when I rode up; and it was a few minutes later before I mentioned how some stupid lady down the block nearly killed me. They immediately suggested I do something to get back at the old biddy; but then it was forgotten for a while as we played, … until Dick came across a can of red spray paint. There were several suggestions about what I should do with it; and they all insisted I take it when I headed home.
It was nearly nine-thirty, and dark, when I started past the woman’s house. Her car was in the driveway; parked next to a hedge on one side. I looked around. There was no one out, just lights on in the houses. I sneaked over between the car and bushes. I wrote "stupid bitch" on the side of the car she almost ran me over with. That will teach her, I thought, as I pedaled home.
I threw the paint can over by the garage. When I walked in I realized I had some red paint on my fingertips. Mom was in the kitchen as I went for a glass of milk. She asked where I had been. Before I could answer and retreat with my milk, she noticed the red paint. I explained there was some wet red paint over at Gary’s.
The next day school let out; and I was in glory ! After dinner I was about to run out the door back over to Gary’s when the phone rang.
"Charley, do you know a Miss Marcy ?" She asked
"No", I replied.
"Well, she seems to think you may know something about her car being vandalized."
Terror shot through me like an icy shower. I shrugged, and shook my head.
"Well, she wants us to come over and see if you can clear this up."
Oh NO ! I was about to shit my pants as we walked down the street. I tried to hide my fear, and trembling hands. My hands…. I had scrubbed them last night; but there was still some red paint around my nails. My legs were rubbery as we approached her house. The car was parked on the street, and the red message on the side of the blue and white Chevy was hard to miss. We had nearly turned into her sidewalk before mom noticed.
"Who would do such a vile thing ?" She gasped.
She looked at me, and I shrugged.
"You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you ?" She questioned.
I shook my head.
Mom looked upset as she knocked; and I was filled with dread and doom.
"Come in", she said.
"Hi, my name is Mrs. Mary Collins, and this is my son Charley."
"Hi, I’m Miss Sharon Marcy."
"I saw what… what .. someone did to your car. It’s horrible ! Who could do such a thing ?"
"Well, I’m hoping Charley could shed some light on that."
"Charley !" Mom said in an accusatory tone.
I shrugged.
"Do you know anything about this ?" Mom asked.
I shrugged, and shook my head.
"When did this happen ?" Mom asked.
"Well, a neighbor said she saw a small boy on a bike near my car about nine-thirty last night."
Mom shrieked !
"Charles ! You came home last night shortly after that … and with red paint on your fingers ! …. You better tell me the truth, … and right now !"
I started crying. I couldn’t lie my way out of this. Mom would make me show her the non-existent red paint at Gary’s. I might just as well get it over now.
"You what ?" Mom screamed.
WHACK ! She struck me across the face.
"How could you ? What could you have possibly been thinking ? Why ?"
Between sobs I told them about her nearly running me over, and then yelling at me. I tried blaming the other kids for goading me into it. Mom was incredulous.
"You shouldn’t have been on the sidewalk. It wasn’t this lady’s fault ! Charley,… how could you !"
Mom wailed into my backside as hard as she could.
"I’m terribly sorry Miss Marcy. Of course we will pay for the damages, …. although I don’t know how. …Charles, you apologize this instant ! You are going to be so sorry young man !"
"I’m… sorry … Miss Marcy." I stammered amongst tears.
"How … much damage … what is it going to cost to fix his vandalism ?"
"The body shop said it will cost three hundred and twenty seven dollars."
"Oh my !" Mom sighed. "I don’t … I don’t …. Where are we going to get that much ….. I guess I could get a loan. … Oh dear ! Charley, I could kill you !"
"I’m so sorry Mrs. Collins." Miss Marcy remarked sympathetically.
"I don’t suppose …. I don’t suppose Charley could work some of this off ?
The lady thought for a second.
"No, … I can’t think how. I don’t need…."
She paused, lost in thought for a moment.
"It’s too bad he’s not a girl. I could use a little help at my shop." She mused.
"Can’t Charley help ? I know he’d be happy to do anything."
"No, … I’m afraid not. It’s a dress and lingerie boutique. I’m afraid he wouldn’t fit in. …’ too bad."
"Yes", echoed mom.
"But then if he was a girl I don’t think we, … he’d be in such a fix." She said. "Boys can be so much trouble."
Mom nodded in agreement.
"Well, let’s have a cup of coffee and talk. Maybe we can work something out."
They left for the kitchen.
"Stand right there young man, and don’t touch anything ! You’re really in for it when we get home ! How COULD you ?"
I stood for twenty minutes before I sat timidly on the edge of the couch. It was a few minutes later when mom called from the kitchen.
I stood in the doorway as they looked me up and down.
"Maybe, …. What do you think ?" Mom asked.
"Well, … there’s only one way to find out." Miss Marcy exclaimed.
They got up from the table and marched me upstairs. Mom had a firm grip on my bicep. I watched as the lady went over to a rack of dresses. She came back over to us, and held up a shiny blue and white dress with girlie ruffles and lace … up to me !
"Yes … maybe", she mused.
I shuddered. They can’t be thinking of ….. of making me wear that ! …. Girls’ clothes ? … a dress ? … no, … I must be mistaken…. no, … they wouldn’t !
She went over to a pile of boxes, rummaged through them, and handed some things to mom.
"Have him put these on. You’ll find a wash cloth and soap ….…as well as some dusting powder in the bath."
A cold chill went through me. I looked over at the doorway. I wanted to run; but mom was right there with a vise-tight grip on my shoulder, and pulled me into the bathroom.
"Take your clothes off !" She barked.
I looked at her in horror. I wasn’t afraid of much, …. but GIRL clothes ?
"Mom ……" I started to protest.
"Now !" She yelled.
I numbly unbuttoned my shirt. … I didn’t dare refuse. I was in enough trouble. I often disobeyed, but not now ! I wouldn’t have dreamed of allowing her to do what I thought they were going to do; but these were dire circumstances. Mom was really P O ed ! I got down to my shorts and stopped.
"Those too !" She demanded.
I was no sooner naked when she began running a soapy wash cloth over me. I was a little too old for mom to be washing me all over; but I wasn’t about to reproach her. I was trembling as she toweled me dry, and then patted me all over with a sissy powder puff with a ribbon on it. The powder had a faint girlie smell.
"Mom ….. "
I tried to get out my plea of protest once again; but the icy rage in her eyes stopped me cold.
She picked up a pair of white, lace trimmed panties ! My heart raced, and yet I felt the blood drain from my face. Soon, my whole body was cold. … I shook my head, but mom wasn’t paying any attention. She slapped my legs as a signal to lift my feet. I felt her tugging at the waistband as the nylon things were pulled up my legs until they covered my bottom. My brain was turning to Jello as I tried to come to grips with what was happening. I was wearing girl’s PANTIES ! Mom pushed me onto the toilet; … and the next thing I knew she was working something thin and white up my legs. They were girl’s white tights ! I felt all yucky … and cold. My lower lip trembled.
"Mom, .. no .. I can’t !" I stammered. … But she ignored me, … until she had finished. She pulled me to my feet with a strong grip around my bicep. It hurt ! I hadn’t realized mom could be that strong !
"You will do whatever it takes to make up for what you did ! WHATEVER it takes !" She hissed.
She yanked me toward the door, and marched me back to stand in front of Miss Marcy. She was waiting with something white dangling from her hand. She prepared it to go over my head; and my mother told me to raise my arms. I started to shake my head no when mom raised them for me; and I felt the cool, slippery nylon slip down over my body. I looked down to see the sissy lace hem settle just above my knees. It looked so girlish …. and yucky ! The bottom skirt part had ruffles, and such dainty lace …. and ribbons ! I looked at the top …. the chest part. It too had lace, and a ribbon bow with a pink flower, and it had shiny ribbon shoulder straps. Eewww … GIRL clothes ! I felt sick ! She picked up the dress, and fussed with it, preparing it to go over my head. I trembled, and tried to back pedal, but mom was right behind me. Mom raised my arms again; and everything went dark for a few seconds. When I could see again, I looked down at shiny blue, with ruffles and lace down the front. My legs buckled.
"STAND UP !" Mom yelled.
I felt totally humiliated. ANYthing but this ! My eyes were watery; and I brushed away a tear. I didn't want to cry.
My own mother zipped it up in back, while the lady lifted my chin.
"Hmmm yes, I think he will do. We'll have to do something about his hair though. It is awfully short."
This CAN'T be happening !
They studied me for a few moments. Miss Marcy lifted my chin again.
"Look up !" She commanded. "We want to look at you. …. You don't like this much, do you ?"
I shook my head. What was her first clue ? Could it be the tears in my eyes, or the completely terrified look ? I was in a sissy, frilly blue dress, with wide, white lace edged ruffles !
"Yes, …. well, it serves you right, doesn't it ?"
"Isn't this a pretty pinafore dress ?" She asked, turning to my mom.
"Oh, it's adorable. Even Charley looks so pretty in it. He looks like a little girl !"
My legs were wobbly.
"STAND UP ! For goodness sakes, don't be such a baby !" Mom yelled again.
"But the hair…. !" The Lady exclaimed. "We need a wig. You wouldn't have one ?"
Mom shook her head. … I was thankful for that.
"I know ! The Lady called out.
She left for a few seconds, and returned with a brush, comb, and scissors. She brushed my hair forward, and clipped away with the scissors. What was she doing, ….. shortening it ? Mom watched. When she finished, she lifted my chin, and looked at mom. Mom smiled.
"You'll have to shampoo it, and use conditioner to relax his part; but I think it's kind of cute." Miss Marcy commented.
Oh NO ! Whatever she did seemed to have worked. Mom looked me over, smiling, with an occasional giggle. I turned to find a mirror. She had shagged my hair so that it framed my face. It looked like …. a girl's "pixie". …. I was going to get a butch cut when school got out, just as I had the last couple of years, but hadn't made it yet to the barber's.
They led me over to stand me in front of the mirror.
"We can't call you Charlie. … I think we'll call you …. Chrissy. Well, Chrissy, do you think you can come to work for me in my store ? You'll have to be on your very best behavior …. girl like behavior … and manners."
"You better believe he will ! He'll be happy to jump at everything you tell him to do, … even if it means walking down the street in his frilly girl's underwear !"
Miss Marcy laughed.
"Oh, we won't make him do anything so crude as that. No, I'll try to be good to him. I think he's going to have enough to cope with, being in public in a dress, and working around dresses and ladies' lingerie."
The dam burst ! I bawled my eyes out. She rushed over with a box of tissues to wipe my tears.
"Oh, I know ! This is going to be difficult at first; but I think you know you really deserve it ! Now get this all out of your system. We can't have you looking all red-eyed and puffy, and getting tears on your pretty clothes. You have to be looking pretty for tomorrow."
Pretty for tomorrow ! The words echoed through me, vibrating my very being. I can't go out wearing girl clothes ! ….'. and especially these frilly things !
"Shoes …. we'll need some shoes." She sighed. …. I'll see what I can do. What size does he wear ?"
"Oh, he's a size five. He has small feet for a boy."
They talked to each other as they had me parade around for them. I was slow to react to their instructions. I wasn't trying to resist. I was just in a mortified stupor. …. It seemed like forever before mom finally let me out of the dress; and we stood by the door to leave.
"Say thank you to Sharon for being so gracious, and allowing you to work this off. I think she's being very nice."
"Thank you so much. I'll be sure to have Charl… I mean Chrissy here by eight."
It seemed so ridiculous to be thanking her for doing this to me.
"Thank you", I got out timidly before we walked home, silently. This was going to be a terrible summer vacation.
"Mom, … I can't … you can't make me wear those sissy things tomorrow." I begged as soon as we entered the front door.
Mom looked at me enraged.
"You will do exactly what we tell you young man ! That was the most despicable stunt I've ever seen ! You deserve a far worse punishment ! If it were up to me, I'd make you lick every last bit of paint off her car with your tongue ! It's lucky for you Miss Marcy is going to let you work off the damages ! You are going to wear a pretty little dress, …. and LIKE it ! Do you understand me ? I've never been so embarrassed in all my life ! You better well behave, and make a proper little girl for her, … or else ! ….. Why, I'll just borrow some of those pretty girl clothes myself, and make you parade up and down the street in them ! You'll wear them day in and day out if it embarrasses you so much !"
I had never seen mom so mad ! I wish I had never said anything. Mom sent me directly to bed; and it was a relief to get away from her, … and to fall asleep.
Mom woke me at six-thirty the next morning.
"Come on, you have to take a nice hot bath, and have breakfast before you go." Mom called.
"Mom, … please… I can’t wear a sissy dress… " I begged.
"Charlie ! If you mess this up in any way I’ll do exactly what I promised last night ! I’ll put you in a pretty dress and ribbons and make you wear them outside in front of your friends ! You’ll stay in dresses until every penny is repaid to Miss Marcy, even if it means wearing a dress back to school !"
Talk about terror ! Go back to school in front of the guys in a dress !
She practically threw me into the bathroom. I didn't like baths, but considering the trouble I was in, it seemed a minor inconvenience. Mom came in as the tub filled. She dumped some of her bubble bath and oil in the water. It was nice and hot, and yet I broke into a cold sweat and began shaking at what they were going to make me do. Mom came in a little while later and shampooed my hair, and then messaged in hair conditioner. She let it stay on a couple of minutes before rinsing. She stayed in the bath, and helped dry me off. I was embarrassed. I was too old for mom to see me naked; but she acted like it was an everyday occurrence. She powdered me all over, and then combed my hair. I looked in the mirror, and hung my head in shame. It looked just like a girl's "pixie".
Little was said as we ate. I was afraid to speak. I was nervous, like waiting to go in to see the doctor, only worse. My heart beat faster as we put the dishes in the sink; and then we were going out the door. I was a bit apprehensive about how my hair looked, and looked around for any kids who might see me; but it was too early for kids to be out. … I couldn’t imagine being out here in a dress !
Mom looked over at the spray-painted car; and I felt her tense, and her hand tighten over my own. … There was no way I was going to get out of this.
My hands were shaking as we walked up to the door. She greeted us with a warm smile. We were five minutes early.
"Well, we look all fresh and bright this morning. Come on Chrissy, let's get you dressed."
It took all my strength to keep my legs from buckling as we went up the stairs. Miss Marcy led the way, with mom right behind me. I felt sick to my stomach at what lay ahead. She handed mom some underthings. I looked past her at the blue dress laid out, …. waiting.
Mom took me into the bath, where she told me to undress. My heart was pounding so loud I thought it must be someone at the front door as I fumbled nervously to shed my clothes. Mom dressed me in a pair of white, lace trimmed panties, and the white tights. I squirmed as she lifted the sissy, white, lace trimmed slip with the ribbon bows. I felt sick to my stomach as my mother forced the girlie undergarment over my head. I was breathing heavily, and too weak in the knees to either protest or help dress myself. Oh God ! … They were going to make me go out dressed as a sissy girl !
Mom ushered me back to the bedroom. She had to push, as I didn't want anyone seeing me in such sissy underwear. The frilly pinafore dress looked even frillier and girlish than I remembered. I struggled to hold my tears as they pulled it over my head. Their voices sounded pleased, but muffled as I struggled with my embarrassment, squirming helplessly in the girlie dress. The next thing I knew I was looking down at pair of girl's white shoes with a strap over the instep. They both smiled and cooed at how I looked, to my mortification.
Miss Marcy took me over in front of the mirror. I didn't want to look, but I did. The sissy white lace stood out next to the shiny blue of the dress. The lace around the gathered short sleeves seemed to be particularly prominent, as was the ruffled lace on the white, rounded collar with the pretty, embroidered flowers. As I turned I noticed the large, perfect bow she had tied in back, with the ends trailing down the back of the dress. I was imprisoned in sissy girl clothes ! …. I was paying a very high price for my behavior.
My heart pounded, and my hands began to sweat on the way downstairs. Mom whispered warnings to me about being on my best behavior, and to follow Miss Marcy's instructions.
"Now Charley ! …..I mean Chrissy ! I want you to behave today at Miss Marcy’s shop ! You are dressed as a pretty little girl, and THAT is how we expect you to behave ! Just remember what I told you."
I was shell-shocked. I looked at my angry, determined mother in fear for the first time in a very long time.
"Yes mom", I half-whispered.
I sat on the couch while they had coffee in the kitchen. It was like waiting for my execution. I was going to have to go outside … like this ! I looked at the shiny blue skirt over my lap, and cursed myself for getting into such a predicament. The ribbons that dangled over the lace trimmed, gathered short sleeves tickled my arms, a reminder of how girlish I was dressed.
They came out a little while later, and, surprisingly, mom came over to hug me.
"You just look SO cute ! You do make a pretty girl." She trilled before going out the door.
Miss Marcy went upstairs, and then returned shortly.
"Well, Chrissy, let's be going."
I stopped at the front door.
"Problem?" She asked.
"I just don't want the other kids seeing me like this."
"I see. Would a scarf help ? ..'. just in case, that is. It would help hide your face."
I nodded. She produced a white scarf with a flower print, and tied it under my chin, then pulled it forward so you couldn't see my face from the side. It felt so smooth, silky, … and girlie against my cheeks. We walked out to her car. The red paint scrawled over the side made me feel ashamed now. She really wasn't so bad, despite what was happening to me.
As we drove into town she proceeded to explain what my duties would be. I kept my chin buried, not wanting to see if there was someone outside who could recognize me. All I saw was shiny blue, and white lace, and my hands trembling on my smooth, sissy lap. I was wearing a girl’s sissy dress !
"I want you to check the display counters and racks so that everything is kept straight and neat. You can keep things swept, and the counters wiped clean of fingerprints. I may want you to bring some merchandise from the back to add to them, as well as assisting the customers. You must be especially polite to everyone that comes in, and welcome them with a good morning or good afternoon, and answer any questions with yes or no Ma'am. Do you think you can do that ?"
"Uh … yes Ma'am", I replied.
"Very good, … we are going to get along just fine, Chrissy."
"Miss Marcy, … do I really … is it really … why do I have to dress this way ?" I whined.
"It wouldn't be right at all to have a boy roaming about my shop. You'll know I'm right when you see. You are stuck I'm afraid, … but don't fret. I think you make a cute girl. But do keep your knees together dear. You don’t want to sit or stand like a boy…. now do you ?"
I shook my head and slid my knees together tightly. The implication was clear. I couldn’t risk anyone realizing I was really a boy…… That would be FAR more embarrassing !
We arrived at her store… "The Princess Shoppe". "Fine Dresses Lingerie and Foundations" the window read. I cringed.
There were just a few passing cars, and a couple of people across the street; but they took little notice of us as we approached the storefront. I felt the sidewalk breezes around my legs and up the dress. I felt vulnerable, and like such a sissy.
It was somewhat small looking, but once inside it seemed much larger, with lots of racks of frilly dresses, and counters filled with all sorts of women's intimate garments. One glass case held nothing but stockings and garter-belts, another was all bras. I was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I didn't know where to divert my eyes. Mom could never have dragged me into a sissy store like this; and now I was stuck here for the whole day … and tomorrow … and …'.
Miss Marcy called me over to the girls' accessories, where she picked up a sissy barrette. It had a blue satin ribbon to match my dress, and white lace with ribbon and lace streamers. She clipped it to my hair on the right side !
"Yes, ..'. quite pretty, don't you think ? You make a most acceptable girl. You're quite darling !"
I was trembling. I felt so weak, .. and fearful. Here I was surrounded by women's dresses and frilly underthings, dressed like such a sissy girl, in a frilly dress with ribbons in my hair. Was there anything worse than this ? This was AWFUL ! What would my friends or any of the kids at school say if they ever saw me like this ?
She had me return some items left in the dressing rooms to the proper rack. It was something to take my mind off where I was, and how I looked. I was careful to avoid the window. I didn't know how I was going to cope with the customers seeing me. There had been a couple of bras to return too, but Miss Marcy took care of those, thank goodness.
She then had me bring out a box of panties to add to the display table. They were folded so the ribbon and lace trim were prominently displayed. She watched as I added to the neat rows; and I hesitantly, gingerly, handled each pair. …. This was severe punishment for a boy … to wear a frilly dress and forced to handle such girlie things ! It was most humiliating.
She didn't sell any leisure things, only one small rack of fancy jeans. Everything else was dressy. About a third of her shop was women's dresses, a third girls', and the remaining was undergarments.
I was scared to death when the first women customers came in. They looked around, and then approached the counters. I stood beside Miss Marcy, behind the counter, trembling.
"What a cute little girl ! And what a darling dress ! Isn't she adorable ?" The women remarked.
I was crimson.
"What do you say ?" Miss Marcy prompted.
"Thank you Ma'am", I responded, shakily and red faced.
Their laughter filled the store.
Their attention shifted to shopping, and I relaxed. At least I was being accepted as a girl. They hadn't seen I was really a boy. … That would be so much more humiliating.
The day crept along. Every time someone came in I panicked a little. It occurred to me, … what if one of the girls from school came in with their mother ? I crept meekly around the store. I felt so helpless in this bastion of femininity, stuck in a frilly dress.
At lunchtime she sat me in the back, where I had a sandwich, milk, and a piece of cake. She reminded me to sit with my knees together. She kept an eye on the store and just grabbed bites.
Nearly all the women who came in complimented me on the dress, and some remarked what a shy, pretty girl I was. I was getting pretty adept at my "thank you Ma'ams". Miss Marcy was quick to point out that she carried the dress in all girls' sizes. Early in the afternoon this technique made her a sale. In fact, she sold three dresses like the one I wore.
As the day progressed I found myself adopting more girlish mannerisms and speech. Miss Marcy was right. I could never be in here as a boy. I hadn't seen one male face all day, except for one, and he was three years old. A boy would definitely be out of place here. I would be just as embarrassed to be stuck in here as a boy. At least being accepted as a girl, I didn't appear to be so out of place.
I was quite exhausted by closing time. I didn't think the day would ever end. I was quick to draw the scarf over my own head for the trip back, and felt only slightly strange tying the silky material under my chin …. just like a sissy girl.
I had had a slight feeling of rebellion as we drove to her shop, but not now. Somehow I had lost it. I would follow her instructions with few compunctions. I wasn't sure why or how I had lost the last bit of boyish resistance, just that I had. I felt like a shy, skittish girl, like the ones I used to tease as we left her shop, and I fumbled with the dress as I got into her car, scooping and straightening the smooth, shiny material over my lap.
I was anxious as I slid out of her car, fearful of my friends seeing me. I hurried to her front door, and waited fretfully for her to let us in.
"I called your mother, and told her you would be staying for supper, and would be getting home later this evening. I want you to help me prepare dinner, and then I want to have a talk with you."
I fidgeted anxiously at the thought of my prolonged time in a sissy dress.
She tied a sissy apron around me, and we fixed dinner, and set the table. I was a little uncomfortable eating. She watched as I was forced to sit up straight, and watch my manners.
"I think it would be nice if you learned how to curtsy. It wouldn't hurt to curtsy to the ladies who complement you, especially the ones that gush over you. Stand up for me. Put one foot slightly behind the other, and lower yourself. Hold the sides of your skirt as you do. ….. Yes, that is right. You make a fine, pretty little girl. …. Everyone at the shop thought so."
I was crimson because of my sheepish acceptance of my girlish role; and it was a moment or two before I realized a thank you was in order. I curtsied as I thanked Miss Marcy…. She smiled pleasantly, and chuckled. … And suddenly, out of nowhere, she seemed attractive. She was younger than my mom, and sort of pretty herself.
"I noticed how timid you were around the shop, especially around the frillier, intimate things. I understand, what with you being a boy and all. Even some of my women customers are a bit embarrassed sometimes with intimate garments. We will have to help you get over that. It doesn't help to make my customers uncomfortable discussing intimates; and I'm afraid your blushing, and skittishness does make them feel less comfortable."
She took me upstairs, where she undid the bow in the back of my dress, and helped me out of it. I was thankful, and started to shed the slip.
"No, leave your slip on." She said.
She left the room briefly, and brought in a box and dumped the contents on the bed. There were dozens of panties. I stood with my arms folded, feeling so foolish, vulnerable, and exposed in such sissy, frilly underwear.
"I want you to sort these according to style, size, and color. Examine them closely, as I want you to pick out the prettiest."
She was drowning me in girl things. Here I was in girls’ lacy underwear, folding more pairs of frilly panties. The ribbon bow in the middle of my chest was inescapable; and the ribbon straps over my shoulders looked so daintily girlish.
I was doing as she instructed when she came in with yet another box. This one held an assortment of things: bras, slips, girdles, and garter belts. I was to sort these too, taking note of their sizes.
"How old are you ?" She questioned.
"Uh … I'm ten." I replied.
"Hmmmm … well, I think that's old enough. Here…", she purred, pulling the slip straps off my shoulders. "Little girls wear pretty training bras in anticipation of the bras they will soon have to wear. So let's try one on you."
I went white, … as white as the porcelain lingerie before me.
She showed me the white cotton bra with the little flower in the middle. I felt my face burning as she then showed me how the clasp worked. She had me stretch out my arms while she slid the bra up them and fastened it in back. My insides felt like they were full of worms ! She fussed with it, and adjusted the straps. She took me over to stand in front of a full-length mirror.
"Awwww , it’s pretty, isn’t it ? You make such a cute girl. …. Now, I want you to stand here and unhook it, take it off, and then put it on again. When you can do it with ease you come show me."
I looked down at it in a bit of shock, …’ a bra ? I looked up at her. She laughed.
"Go on," she giggled. "You are getting quite an education on girls and our clothes, … aren’t you ?"
The first several times were surprisingly difficult. Imagine, a boy practicing putting on a bra ! And in front of a mirror yet ! I examined the hooks carefully. After about twenty minutes of red-faced practice I could take it on and off pretty well. I made my way out into the hall. I could hear her … downstairs ! I pulled the slip top up over the bra, and walked to the top of the stairs.
"Miss Marcy !" I can get it on and off now ! I called.
I couldn't believe I was being so cooperative, but then being in a frilly dress all day in a women's boutique acting like a girl had had it's effect.
"Come here and show me !" She called back.
My face was ablaze. Go downstairs in this frilly underwear ? …. I crept slowly down the steps. I looked down to see my hand over my chest, like some timid girl. I nervously made my way into the kitchen with my arms folded in front of me. I peered in to see two people ! I went white … before I recognized my mother. They turned and giggled at me standing there.
"Ok, show us ! Show us how good you are with your new bra."
I wanted to die ! I was crimson.
"Yes dear, show us what a good little girl you are." Mom giggled. "Come on !"
I unhooked the bra, slid it down my arms, and then replaced it, hooking it again, with only slight difficulty.
"That's very good honey." Mom cooed. "..’and such a cute training bra…"
Mom had a sappy grin on her face as I pulled the dainty slip straps back in place. She whipped out a camera, and snapped a picture.
"Oh yes, you make a splendid girl. Sharon told me what a dear you were today; and how everyone thought you looked so pretty. I couldn't believe you had been that good. It looks like you are going to work out just fine. ….. Maybe you should have been a girl. …. I kind of like the idea of having a daughter, and so pretty too."
I was red clean to my toes.
"Remember what I taught you earlier." Miss Marcy prompted.
I stammered, not knowing what she meant, and then it came to me.
"Uh, thank you mother", I mumbled, … adding a shaky curtsy.
"Oh honey ! That's so sweet ! …. I was afraid that you might make some trouble for her at the shop; but I see my fears were unfounded. You definitely should have been a girl ! You look so cute, … and it's certainly improved your attitude. I can’t believe it !"
Mom took another picture; and then she held out her arms. I went over, and she hugged me. I struggled to keep from crying. She held me at arms length, and then fussed and cooed over the ribbon and lace trimmed dainty girl's underwear I was wearing, rearranging the sissy straps over my shoulders. …. I brushed a tear from my cheek.
"Oh honey, it's all right. Things are going to be ok. You make a fine looking girl."
I was sent back upstairs to finish sorting the intimates; and moments later they were standing at the door, watching me. They asked me questions. What size is that ? Isn't that a lovely color ? What size bra was I wearing ? I didn't know, and had to remove it to see. It was a size thirty. The tag read "Little Ingenue". Handling the intimates was embarrassing, even though I was dressed in them. I stared at a girdle with ribbon covered garters dangling from the bottom. I hoped I would never have to wear anything like that ! I didn't think I'd ever be comfortable around these silly, feminine things.
"You know Mrs. Collins, I think it would be nice if Chrissy would paint her fingernails. They should be red, … like the paint on my car, .. as a reminder."
"I think that is a great idea. I'll take care of it."
"Now Chrissy, did you pick out the prettiest panties ?" She questioned.
"Yes", I replied. I blushed as I held them up. They were pink with white lace and ribbon bows. They were very girlie.
"And what size are they ?" She asked.
"Uh … size five", I replied.
"Good, …. put them on."
"What ?"
"You heard me. Put them on over your tights."
My face burned as I slid them up my legs. They were just a little big.
"Now, show us, …. show us your pretty panties."
I faced them, holding the hem of my slip up. They smiled at me standing there in the pink lace trimmed panties with the little ribbon bows. They tittered. I was beside myself with embarrassment.
"Yes, they are very pretty; … and you look so pretty in your pink panties." Mom giggled.
I knew my face was as red as my fingernails were going to be.
It was dusk when mom and I left. I was allowed to put on a shirt and pants over my sissy underwear. Mom carried a bag home. I didn't ask what was in it.
I was so tired as we got home; but mom marched me to her room where she had me remove my shirt and pants. She had me sit at her vanity in the slip with the bra underneath as she filed, buffed, and turned my fingernails a glossy red.
"I want you to pay close attention, because you are going to be doing this every second or third day from now on. Let’s see how you like working with this red paint ! You have to get them painted smooth and even. You will have to paint them again and again until you get them right, …. so pay attention."
"Mom, … how am I … how can I go out anywhere…"
"Oh, you are grounded for the summer. If you go anywhere, you can just go as a girl !" Mom stated emphatically. "Now, let's look at you."
She lifted my slip, smiling at the lacy pink panties.
"Your panties are so pretty, …… aren't they Chrissy ?" She quizzed.
I looked down at the pink, lace and ribbon bows, and nodded. She giggled.
"Yes, … you are a pretty little girl, …. aren’t you ?"
I looked at her blankly, while she smiled down at me, waiting for me to answer.
"Well ….. aren’t you ? … Speak up !" She demanded.
"Yes ….I’m … a pretty … girl." I choked out.
She laughed, and hugged me.
She then had me curtsy for her. She giggled some more. I felt so helplessly weak. I had lost all my boyish pride and independence. I had allowed myself to be dressed like a sissy girl. I meekly complied to her instructions, holding the thin nylon slip in my red tipped fingers as I curtsied for her, and felt like such a sissy ! What had happened to the headstrong boy ?
"Good morning Chrissy." Mom called the next morning.
I had to take another bubble bath; and mom lotioned and powdered me. She held the pink panties as I stepped into them; and then fastened the bra in back for me. The larger women's panties went over the other pair. Mom then produced a pair of white socks, …. girl’s socks. They had lace around the tops. I was then allowed to put on a shirt, pants, and my shoes. I pushed my pants down around my hips. I didn’t want to risk the lace peeking out under my pants leg. Mom yelled at me to take my hands out of my pockets as we walked up the street. I didn’t want anyone to notice my girlish, red fingernails.
We arrived at Miss Marcy's at a quarter past eight. We went upstairs, and my shirt, pants and shoes were removed. Miss Marcy slipped a girls vest or camisole over my head . It was white with a little pink flower design. It had lace across the top with a little flower over a ribbon bow in the middle, and there were small bows at the straps. It was terribly, girlishly frilly, and my face burned firely red once again. Then I had to step into a circle of ruffles and lace, and pull it up around my waist. I gasped ! The petticoat was smooth on top, then a circle of lace, and then three rows of lace trimmed ruffles. There was a large bow at the lace circle, and the ends draped down over the ruffles. They were terribly sissy underthings ! They both smiled and cooed over me in the lacy, sissy underwear. Mom smiled, and fingered the pretty lace and ribbon bow of the petticoat.
"You will wear this today." Miss Marcy stated, holding up a pink dress.
"Oh, … what a DARLING dress ! Isn’t it pretty, Chrissy ?"
It had short, puffy, lace trimmed short sleeves, lacy collar, rows of lace down the front, and shiny pink sash. It was a sissy party dress; and she pulled it over my head. The dress felt smooth, and rustled as it slipped down over me. She buttoned it in back and tied the sash. I knew just how prissy the bow was going to look in back. I had seen so many girls wear frilly dresses like this. I slipped into the white shoes, and she fastened the strap. She then clipped a pink ribbon bow in my hair. Mom took pictures as Miss Marcy fussed with the dress.
"Isn't she a pretty little miss ?" Miss Marcy asked.
Mom giggled with her hand cupped over her mouth.
"Oh yes ! You should have been a girl, Charlie !"
"Oh, and your fingernail polish is so pretty Chrissy ! Let me see !"
I held out my sissy red tipped fingers out, and she looked them over, smiling.
"Oh, … you did a lovely job of panting !"
I was just totally crushed in the exasperatingly frilly girl clothes.
They tittered with amusement as we made our way downstairs. The full pink skirt swished and bobbed as I descended the stairs. I felt so completely weak and deflated.
Miss Marcy pulled a silky scarf over my head, and tied it under my chin. I was scared and mortified in the dress and ribbons as we walked to her car. The boys would tease a girl dressed like this, … much less a boy !
Climbing into the car and sitting in the dress and petticoat wasn't easy ! I struggled to straighten the dress. It was embarrassing as I was forced to fuss with the dress, trying to straighten and smooth it, just like a sissy girl.
My red tipped fingers fidgeted nervously over my smooth, pink lap as we drove away. God, … I’m a complete sissy !
Miss Marcy fussed over my frilly dress when we arrived, fluffing the skirt and straightening the bow in back, fluttering over me, primping my frilly clothes.
Her exercise with the undergarments helped a little as I worked around the shop that morning. It was odd, but the way I was dressed in pink and lace seemed to make it easier around the other feminine clothes. I felt better buried in a rack of dresses than stand fully exposed in the pink, sissy dress. The women that came in made an instant fuss. I was smothered with complements as the women gushed over me and the girlie dress. Oh ! They would say, … how SWEET … SO PRETTY …. What an ADORABLE girl and dress … aren't you a precious little girl ? It caused my face to burn a bright, glowing shade of red.
It was around noon when it got a little slow; and I was finding some interest in the unfamiliar clothes. I was swinging the skirt with the petticoat back and forth when Miss Marcy called.
"Quit playing with your dress, and come here." She called, giggling at my behavior.
That afternoon a woman asked if I would try on a dress so she could get a better idea how it would look on her daughter.
"She's just your size and color."
I had to oblige.
"Oh, and what pretty underthings ! Isn't that an adorable petticoat ? You are just so sweeeeet !"
"Thank you Ma'am", I replied with a dutiful little curtsy, holding the lacy petticoat with my newly polished fingertips. The ends of the wide satin bow fluttered as I moved. My face was getting to be permanently scarlet.
"And ' such lovely manners." The Lady chuckled. "You are such a darling little girl, … just like my baby." She commented.
I twirled for her in the dress; and she bought two dresses and the petticoat.
Another woman remarked she wished her daughter was like me. She couldn't get her daughter near a pretty dress unless she absolutely had to wear one, like for church.
Miss Marcy sold two more dresses like the one I wore that afternoon. It occurred to me I was her living mannequin, and her idea was working.
When I got home I quickly got out of the dress and underwear, but was still embarrassed to eat supper with my sissy red fingernails in full view. Mom asked about my day. I didn't want to talk about it, … or think about it.
I had to help with the dishes. Mom had had a lot of trouble getting me to help with housework. I was a boy, and didn’t do things like that. … She now smiled triumphantly as she tied a frilly apron around my waist. The last time she had tried to make me wear an apron I was five or six, and I threw a fit !
We spent a quiet evening.
Mom dropped me off at Miss Marcy’s door the next morning; and Miss Marcy took me by the hand upstairs to get dressed. She put me in a white blouse with a large, rounded, lace trimmed collar. It had puffy, banded, short sleeves, trimmed in narrow, ruffled lace; and it buttoned up the back. The skirt was a red and black plaid with yards of shiny, smooth, stiff material. I had to wear the petticoat under it again. My anklets were even more girlish. The lace was wider, and had ribbon bows. I now had lace and white ribbon bows at my ankles as well.
I looked in the mirror. The thin, white, sissy blouse left little doubt I was wearing a bra under the thin lacy camisole and blouse; and I squirmed in anguish that everyone was going to see what sissy girl’s underpinnings I was wearing.
The blouse and skirt with the frilly anklets attracted as much praise as the dresses; and the women once again fussed over me. Whenever I looked down I could see the lacy crescents and ribbon straps of my sissy underwear.
As I straightened the panties on the display table a camisole strap slipped of my shoulder. Miss Marcy smiled as I struggled to pull it back in place. It wasn’t easy with the blouse buttoned up the back. I had to work through the thin blouse material.
The store was going to stay open later as it was Friday, so mom was picking me up after work. She came in around five-thirty, and her face lit up when she saw me. The customers cooed as mom hugged me.
"Hi Chrissy !" She greeted. "Oh, you look so sweet !"
The women all gushed over mom about how lucky she was to have such a pretty daughter. It kind of took her aback; but she looked quite happy with the praise, and with my embarrassing predicament.
"Such a pretty blouse and skirt…." Mom trilled sweetly, blushing slightly.
"And your slip is so pretty too honey." She giggled, her hand caressing the girlish details through the blouse.
Mom gossiped with the other women about their girls, and they talked and talked. I didn't think we were ever going to go home. …. And then she started looking about the boutique. My toes curled when she picked up three pair of panties, and then …. she asked to see training bras ! OH ! This was embarrassing ! Mom and Miss Marcy enjoyed drawing it out, glancing over at me; and then mom called me over to ask which style I wanted ! Everyone could see how mortified I was; …. and they seemed to find it amusing. They all stood around, watching my embarrassment. Mom bought the panties, two bras, and a pretty slip, which she held up against me. I burned a bright red.
It wasn't until we got to the car that I noticed the other packages she carried.
We were half way home before I realized we would be going straight home ! How was I going to get from the car to the house, dressed like this ? Someone might see me ! I pulled the silky scarf over my head; and mom looked over at me with a wide grin as I tied it under my chin. Mom told me to scootch down as we approached. Mrs. James, the neighbor lady, was outside. We circled the block, and five minutes later we pulled into the driveway. I ran into the house, the white, lacy froth under my skirt flying.
Mom found me upstairs, struggling to get out of the blouse. Undoing the buttons in back was difficult.
"Chrissy ! What do you think you are doing ?" She asked.
"..' getting out these clothes." I responded.
"Oh no you're not ! Sharon and I have decided it's best if you stay in skirts and dresses. You will manage your skirts better if you wear them all the time. You said yourself you can't go out as a boy with your nails and hair, so you will stay a girl for us this summer."
I looked at her. ..’. manage my skirts ? …There wasn't much to say. I was disheartened as mom buttoned the blouse in back again. She looked rather pleased as I turned around.
Mom brought out the packages. Besides the underwear items, she had bought two blouses, two skirts, and a dress; although they weren't as dressy as what I had worn to the store.
"Mom, … I thought you said we didn't have any extra money ?" I whined.
"We don't have three hundred, but an extra forty I can always find." She smiled.
"I wish you had been a little girl, Charlie. It was so much fun shopping today, and at Miss Marcy’s boutique. They all thought you were such a sweet girl. Well, … you are going to be my little Chrissy this summer now."
I didn't like the direction this was going, and spending so much money on girl clothes for me.
We returned downstairs to prepare dinner together. Mom put me in the frilly apron again. She smiled over at me a lot, and fussed over me in my prissy girl clothes as we ate and did the dishes together.
She cheerily asked what I wanted to watch on tv that evening. Mom looked happy. She seemed to have gotten over my costly prank.
Relaxing in front of the tv wasn't the same. Mom was right there instructing, helping, me with the girl clothes. I couldn't sprawl out, …. not in a petticoat and skirt. I was forced to mind how I sat, with my knees together, and forced to arrange the skirt and petticoat neatly.
I blushed when mom lifted my skirt to have a better look at dainty lace and ribbon details of my petticoat.
"Oh honey, that’s a darling petticoat. It’s so pretty !" She cooed, as she fingered the satin bow and lace. "And you make an adorable girl. I’m going to love having a pretty daughter this summer."
All I could do was sit there and blush like some silly, timid girl as I looked down at my mother fondling the large satin ribbon I wore over the glaring white lace. I was wearing such unimaginable girlie underwear !
I was quick to agree when mom suggested getting ready for bed, as I could finally get out of these things. Mom watched, and coaxed me to be careful removing the delicate girl things, and to hang them up neatly. I was carefully placing the lacy, ribboned petticoat over a chair when mom handed me a flower print nightgown and matching robe.
"What's this ?" I questioned.
"It's your new nightgown and robe. Put it on."
"What ?"
"Yes, … you are going to be my daughter this summer, Chrissy. Just get used to it. I like having a little girl. I had so much fun shopping today," she repeated; " … and you make such a pretty daughter, …. Chrissy."
"Mom !"
Mom was sure pleased with making me into her daughter. She hadn’t stopped glowing since she picked me up at the boutique this afternoon. She was constantly telling me how pretty I looked; and it was annoying listening to her broken record, not to mention the embarrassment of being reminded of how I looked in the sissy dresses; … but what could I do ?
She was radiant as she helped me into the silky nightie and robe. The nightie had a flounce at the hem and across the chest, with a large ribbon bow with long ribbons that came to my waist. The robe had a ribbon belt which mom tied in a neat bow. I was going to be dressed in girlie frills night and day. Mom hugged me …several times; and we returned to the living room as mother and daughter.
The nylon over nylon of the nightie and robe felt so strange, … slippery, silky, and nice. I felt so sissified sitting there in the flowered film and ribbons. Mom kept looking at me with a radiant smile; and it wasn't long before she sat next to me, put her arm around me, and coddled me. It had been a number of years since I let mom coddle me. Now, dressed as I was, it felt kind of nice as she played with the ribbons and trim of my sissy nightwear.
I jumped in bed, and discovered you can't do that in a nightie; and it got all twisted. I stood, straightened the nightie, and then sat, then swung my feet into bed. Silly girl clothes. Mom came in to tuck me in. It had been a while since she had done that. I was her little girl now; and there was nothing I could do about it.
I had to take yet another bath in the morning. I protested. It was Saturday; and I wasn't going to be leaving the house.
"You are a girl now, and you will keep yourself dainty, clean and fresh." Mom explained.
Mom helped me into my girl clothes. I wore one of the new blouses and a skirt mom had bought.
After breakfast we returned to my room with both of us in aprons. We started in cleaning, and she began pulling my clothes from my dresser and closet.
"We have to make room for Chrissy's things." She stated.
But she removed ALL my clothes. The sheets, bed linen, and curtains were all removed, to be replaced by softer, more feminine ones. I had a girl's room by dinner-time; and mom stored my boy things in the attic.
I helped mom bake cookies that evening. Mom seemed very pleased. She hummed to herself, and actually thanked me for helping her, and hugged me. I was silent. I let her enjoy herself. …. But the warm cookies were nice, … and tasty ! And they made me feel good I had helped make them.
Sunday, and I awoke to the realization I was wearing a nightie, and I only had girl's underwear and clothes to put on now. It struck me. … I was now forced to select from the panties and bras and slips to wear, … just like any of the sissy girls from school. This was insidious, I thought, as I plucked a pair of frilled panties and a training bra from my own dresser to wear.
Mom fussed over me as she helped me dress in the frilly underwear and a dress.
I helped with breakfast and lunch; and then we hand-washed OUR dainty underthings that afternoon. It was a little embarrassing, and mom smiled a lot as she demonstrated how to wash the dainty delicates. Mom then had to go to the laundramat to do wash. She couldn't take me, and was a bit disappointed I had to stay behind.
I was alone in girl clothes, and watched tv. I made no attempt to remove them. I might just as well get used to it, I reasoned. Just what would I wear anyway ? .’ .go naked …. ‘ sit around in just panties …. or in a slip ? .. So, … there I sat, in bra, panties, slip, and a dress, with no one to stop me from taking them off….
When she came home I helped refold the clothes and put them away. I was embarrassed. It was one thing to handle such delicate girl things at the boutique; but these were MINE, and I was folding them neatly away in my dresser.
Mom told me it was time to repaint my fingernails that evening, and gave me the bottle of red nail polish. She watched as I struggled with the red varnish, brushing it over my fingernails. It was more difficult than I had thought, and she had to help. She smiled and giggled as I sat there waiting for my bright red nails to dry. Then she made me paint my toenails too ! She gave me a choice of three shades of red. It was a real struggle. I was going to have polished toe and fingernails all summer. What a sissy girl they were making me into !
She gave me sewing and crocheting lessons that evening. Oh God ! …. For the time being at least, I was a girl !.
I left the house Monday in a girl's blouse and slacks. From a distance you couldn't tell. They were merely intended to get me to Miss Marcy's and back. Apparently I wasn't going to be allowed boy clothes of any description for the duration. Mom made it clear she was doing me a big favor by permitting me to wear slacks to Miss Marcy’s.
When we got to Miss Marcy's I noticed the paint from the side of her car was gone; and I was glad.
She had me wear a multicolored floral print dress with a large, white, lace trimmed, square collar. It was a rather sissy, school type dress.
Tuesday I wore a pink print sundress with large bows on the shoulders; and it tied in back.
Wednesday I wore another sundress, a yellow daisy print, with ruffled lace in front in a square. It gave the illusion of a bib. It too was tied in a bow in back.
The sundresses were cooler, but they flashed glimpses of the bra I was wearing underneath when I reached forward to arrange the displays. A young girl my age noticed, and I heard her begging her mother for her own training bra.
"Mom. … see, she's wearing one, and she's no bigger than me ! Can I have one … please ?"
Her mother looked over at me, smiled and nodded, .. to the squeals from her little girl.
Sometime during that week Miss Marcy and I became good friends. Mom hugged me even more often, which seemed like every few seconds to me; and she smiled more than anytime I could remember. She was quite happy and enthusiastic about having a daughter
This was turning out very well for mom. She worked during the day, and summers were a problem. She had to scramble to get someone to look after me during the day. Not only was I completely supervised, Mom didn’t even have to fix my lunch, Miss Marcy took care of that.
I began to get used to the constant day to day fussing over me as a girl in frills. I kind of grew to like it at times, …. as well as the feel of the smooth, silky fabrics. Even if they were sissy girl clothes, they felt nice and luxurious to touch. My "prank" was never brought up. It was like I was Chrissy now, not the boy that did that awful thing.
My fourth attempt at painting my nails was completely successful, as mom didn’t have to help or redo any of them; and mom hugged me and praised her new daughter’s acquired feminine talent.
I was waiting for my nails to dry when the phone rang. Mom handed it to me. …. It was Gary. I gingerly held the receiver with three freshly polished, girlishly red fingertips.
"Hi…. "
"No, … I’ve been grounded for the summer."
"I don’t know …’probably at school this fall."
"Bye"
I shuddered. If he and the others could see how I looked !
* * *.
It was three weeks into the summer when a girl from school came into the shop with her mother. I froze, … then melted into the back room. A few minutes later Miss Marcy called for me. I came out to confront Trisha and her mom standing at the counter. Trisha smiled at me.
"Hi", she called.
I wanted to crawl under the floor.
"You look familiar. Do I know you ?" She asked.
I shrugged.
"What's your name ?"
"Chrissy", I replied.
"Chrissy what ?"
"Uh … Chrissy Smith", I lied, glancing furtively over at Miss Marcy.
"What school do you go to ?"
"Mapledale", I lied again. It was across town.
"I've seen you … somewhere then…." She pondered.
"Maybe, … but you don't look familiar."
Her mom was buying her some new underthings, … including a couple training bras….. the same as mine ! I had to smile to myself, thinking Trisha was going to be wearing the same training bra as me; and I had worn one first.
I breathed a sigh of relief when they left. I couldn't believe she hadn't recognized me. Some of my friends and I had teased her and her friends a little over a month ago.
I rode home thinking how lucky I had been.
* * * * *
(At this point the reader has an opportunity to decide how this story will proceed. If you think Mary Collins should keep her new "daughter" as the sweet, mild-mannered Chrissy… go on to "Chrissy part II". If you think a summer in dresses is sufficient for Charley …. go on to Chrissy part III)
© 2001
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