I started this story in 2003 as a series, which I did not complete. I have now revised the original story line and completed the story. I am grateful to Holly for all her help. If there are still errors, it is not because Holly did not do a good job as editor.

 

Mummy Must I

by Robin Diaz

       

Chapter Four

The next morning at the bus stop Vanessa greeted me with a hug. It was similar to the hug all the girls give each other. Her hug surprised me, as I was used to the typical male greeting, 'Hey.' If the guy is happy to see you, he might add a head nod when he said 'Hey.' To my surprise, I found being hugged pleasant.

We sat in our usual seat on the bus, third back on the right side. The thought that Vanessa would mention last night worried me. I knew she would not say anything to be cruel. I worried she would speak without thinking. If one of the other kids on the bus overheard, I would be ridiculed and ostracized. But she never mentioned last night. We spent the time talking about television shows and school. Part of me wanted to talk about wearing the bra and panty, but I knew I couldn't.

The day dragged on for me, because I kept thinking about the panties and bra. I found myself fixating on what girls were wearing. I started wondering what it would feel like to wear a dress or a skirt. Those thoughts started worrying me, was I abnormal. A normal boy would never wear girl's clothes, and wouldn't even wonder what it was like.

At the end of the day Vanessa appeared to be glad to see me. Typically, we plop in the seat and let out a small sigh; another school day finished. When she got on the bus she slid in next to me bumping me with her hip and her shoulder, before giggling.

"Hey," she said with a smile.

"Hey," I gave a nod and smiled. "You had a good day."

"The usual," she said. "And you?"

I shrugged, "the same."

"Can you come over to my place after school?" She asked.

"I don't know. I'll have to ask."

"If you can; come right over."

"Okay, what's up?"

She looked over her shoulder before answering, "Nothing, I just wanted to show you something."

She had a secret and was not going to share. That was ok because I had a secret that I didn't plan on sharing. We finished the bus ride talking about the Spanish test and school. After the bus ride, while walking home, I tried to tell me what she wanted to show me but she refused. So, I waved good bye, wondering what her secret was.

I entered our trailer, "Hi."

"In here," Becky called.

"Vanessa asked if I could come over, is that okay?"

"No, you need to help me."

"To do what?" I asked standing in her doorway.

"With my prom dress, so go change."

"Can't we do it later?"

"No." she raised her voice, "Now - Dweeb."

I glared at her, "What's that word that rhymes with witch?... oh yeah, BITCH."

She grabbed my hair and pulled on it hard.

I screamed out from the pain.

She let go of my hair, "Mom said you have to listen to me."

"I'm telling," I whined while rubbing my scalp.

"Go ahead you baby."

"Mom said you can't hit me. You'll be grounded," I pointed my finger at her face.

She grabbed my finger and bent it until I started screaming, "You get me grounded, I'll, I'll..."

"Ouch, ouch, please, I swear," I was on my knees pleading.

She let go, "Now go change."

"Okay," I said, shaking my hand, trying to get the pain to go away.

Instead of walking to my room, I went to Vanessa's trailer. Vanessa was happy to see that I could come over. She hugged me, just as she had in the morning.

"Hey, so, what's up?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Oh, I thought you wanted to show me something."

"I wanted to ask you a favor; I just didn't want to ask on the bus."

"What?"

"Do you remember that large make-up kit that I got for my birthday?"

I remembered. I thought it a useless gift since she never wore make-up, "yeah."

"I want us to do each others make-up."

I did not respond immediately, as I was so shocked at the question. Finally, "Ah, what?"

"I never use the kit; mainly because I don't have any girl friends. I thought, after seeing you last night, we could do each others make-up, like girl friends."

I did not respond.

"I just thought that since you are willing to wear a bra and dress for your sister, that you would do this with your best friend"

I should have run, "I don't know anything about make-up."

"I don't know much about it either, but that is what will be great. If we practice on each other, we'll learn together. It will be fun, you'll see. Please?"

"I don't know. Helping my sister is different. I have to, Mom is making me. Letting you put make-up on me, I don't know, isn't it kind of strange."

"Oh," She looked disappointed, and I knew I'd hurt her.

"You know what I mean; it's strange for a boy to wear make-up?"

"Not really, rock stars wear make-up all the time."

"True," Her idea started to be appealing. I decided to give in, "Maybe this once, but if you end up looking like a clown it's not my fault, I warned you."

Vanessa smiled and then hugged me, "This will be fun."

We went back to her bedroom. The make-up kit was sitting on her bed. We sat on the bed with the kit between us. Vanessa started to explain what the items in the kit were and why they were used. She stopped when she realized it would be faster and more fun to explain the items as we used them. She decided to start with nail polish. Vanessa picked the red bottle, I chose the pink bottle. She painted my thumbnail pink, explaining what she was doing as she did it. The nail polish felt cold when she first applied it to my nail. After she was finished with my thumbnail she wanted me to paint hers. I have a steady hand; so it was easy for me to do a good job. We then took turns painting each others fingernails. She painted mine first then I painted hers.

After we finished painting each others nails we admired our work. I could not believe that seeing my nails painted pink would make me feel better, yet… I find it hard to explain the feeling, but I felt better about myself.

With our nails finished we moved on to lipstick. First, she showed me how to use the lip liner. Next she showed me how to apply the lipstick. It was another strange, but good feeling to be wearing lipstick. That was until the telephone rang. While Vanessa answered the telephone I looked at my fingernails, wondering what I was doing.

"Bobby, it's for you," Vanessa said.

"Hello?"

"Bobby you need to come home now," Mom was mad.

I looked at the clock. It was past five, "I'll be home in a minute."

"No, you'll come home now."

"Mom, Vanessa and I were in the middle of doing something; I can be home in five minutes."

"You come home this minute! You're in trouble, young man."

"Can't I have five minutes, please?"

The phone went dead. I got scared. I hung up the phone. "I got to go. Can we clean this off me real quick?"

"I need nail polish the remover," She told me.

I started back to her room, panicked.

"What is wrong?"

"Becky didn't let me come over. I just left. Now, Mom is pissed. If she sees me with the make-up on she will really be mad."

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened.

"Bobby," Mom stood in the doorway staring at me.

I stopped and turned to face her, but I could not look at her eyes. So, I looked at her feet. I wanted to run into the bathroom to hide. I was caught and I knew there was nothing I could do.

"Hi Vanessa. Bobby you need to come home now."

I could tell she was annoyed with me. I realized she had not yet noticed I was wearing make-up. I tried to hide my hands. I assumed she would be furious with me for wearing make-up.

"Hi Mrs. Strikler, Bobby and I were just playing."

"Bobby, are you wearing lipstick?" Her tone was flat.

"It was my idea, Mrs. Strikler; I asked him, I didn't mean to get him in trouble. It's all my doing."

"Bobbie you put me in a spot. I didn't permit Becky to wear make-up until she was thirteen. Now what am I supposed to tell her."

"I'm sorry"; I moved my hands so Mom wouldn't see I was wearing nail polish. "Becky doesn't have to know, it will only take a minute to clean off."

"That won't do. Come on home, I'll figure out a punishment."

"Sorry, Bobby, I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

I could see Vanessa was sorry, "It's okay, it's my own fault."

As we walked to our trailer, Mom told me I should use red lipstick, not pink. She started telling me how deeper colors would look better on me since I have black hair. Her comments confused me. I didn't say anything I just walked next to her. I didn't get two steps in the trailer before Becky spotted I was wearing lipstick and nail polish.

"He's wearing make-up; I wasn't allowed to wear make-up until I was thirteen. That is why he went sneaking off instead of helping me with my dress, like you told him. You're going to punish him, aren't you? He should be grounded."

"She pulled my hair and bent my finger," I retorted.

"He called me a Bitch."

Mom spun around, "Bobby! You didn't."

Mom did not appear to be listening to the squabble until then, "she's lying."

"You are such a liar," Becky proclaimed.

"Bobby!" Mom gave me a stern look.

"I didn't…I swear."

"I can tell when you're lying Bobby," Mom stared into my eyes.

"I only did it because she pulled my hair and almost broke my finger."

"I didn't pull it; I only gave it a little tug. And I only did that because you refused to help me, like you agreed to. You're a liar and a sneak."

"That is enough! Stop the both of you," Mom raised her hands to our faces.

"It's his fault."

"Enough," Mom said through clenched teeth.

"Well it was," Becky always needed the last word.

"You can't stop can you?"

"Why am I always at fault? You never yell at him," Becky started to cry.

"He will be punished."

"Yeah, right."

"I said…He will be punished."

"Make him wear make-up to school," Becky gave me a wicked look.

"No way!" I protested. "No Fucking way."

Mom and Becky just stood with their jaws agape.

At that point it dawned on me what I had just said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. But I am not going to school like this."

"Go to your room," Mom commanded.

"Sorry," I said meekly as I walked away.

"Change into your panty and bra; you still need to help your sister tonight."

I was not in any mood to help Becky with her crappy prom dress. I thought about protesting but decided it was best to keep silent. I thought about changing into my bra and panty. Most of my day was spent day thinking about wearing them. My spirit was lifted with the anticipation of stepping into my pink panty. The feeling I had, I knew was the reason I shouldn't wear them. It was wrong for me to want to wear panties. But, it did make me feel better. I was confused.

"So what is his punishment going to be?"

"He will receive an appropriate punishment."

Becky wanted to ensure he would be dooly punished, "I just wish he knew what it was like to be a girl. He treats me as if I'm stupid. I ask him to help me, which he promised he would, but instead of helping me, he calls me a bitch."

"You make a good point." Mrs. Strikler thought for a moment, "maybe he should try being a girl, not during school, but after school and weekends."

Becky saw an opportunity, "I'm not sure that is a real punishment, he should spanked or made to do chores."

"How about for the next two weeks he does all of your chores."

"In a dress?" Becky asked.

Mrs. Strikler was already thinking that, "Yes, from the time he comes home from school until he leaves in the morning, he will be your sister."

Becky smiled. Mrs. Strikler did not see the smile because she already started to walk away to talk to Bobby. Becky started thinking of ways she could make Bobby's life miserable.

   

Chapter Five

Vanessa and her mother sat on the sofa eating dinner, another day of cheeseburgers and french-fries in front of the television. Vanessa felt guilty about getting Bobby in trouble. She was also bothered by the desire that she'd had to kiss Bobby. She never had the urge before, but after she finished applying the lipstick on him; he looked so cute and sexy. She wanted to kiss him.

Until recently, Vanessa had been a tomboy. During the last year, she felt the need to change herself. She felt it important that she looked pretty. She did not have any close girl friends with whom she felt she could share her new interest in make-up and fashion. She would have never considered Bobby if she hadn't seen him wearing the bra. Now, she could not stop thinking about Bobby. She wondered when they would be able to do it again.

Becky stood in the living room, wondering how she could further humiliate Bobby. She wanted to post images of him on the internet. She wanted everyone to see what a sissy boy looked like. She realized to see her plan all the way through she would need to borrow a digital camera. She thought about him wearing the prom dress, how he made such a pretty sissy. She started to think of a title for her photograph, 'Bobbie the sissy – Pretty in Pink.' No, that sounded familiar. Then it came to her, 'A Prim and Proper Prom Queen.' She said it to herself a few times then grinned.

I sat on my bed admiring my pink nails.

"I asked you to change," Mom stated, standing in my doorway.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Quit dawdling and get to it."

I started to untie my sneakers. I found it delightful to watch my pink fingernails work the laces.

"Once you have your bra and panties on, call me," Mom told me.

"Okay."

Mom walked away, "Becky, does the red sheath dress from last year still fit you?"

"It should, but it's outdated."

"Do me a favor and make sure it still fits you, then give it to Bobby."

"Sure Mom," Becky was happy to help.

Mrs. Strikler went into her room and started searching through her bottom dresser drawer for her cincher. It had been three years since she'd last worn it. That was on her last date, which was to the Frock's New Year's party. She had hoped that George Pratt would be the one. She thought it might be her last chance for romance. He was, but not the way she expected. When she saw George eye Becky like a lecher, she decided to hold off on dating.

"Mom I'm changed," I called out.

She found the cincher under an old nightgown. She held it up, and then removed the garter straps. Bobby wouldn't be wearing stockings just yet. Mrs. Strikler shut her drawer.

"Becky do you have the dress?" She asked aloud as she walked to Bobby's room.

"In a sec," Becky responded.

The red dress still fit her; however, it was not what she wanted Bobby to wear. She envisioned a frilly dress, a soft yellow dress with puffy sleeves and faux fur skirt, perhaps with a white bow in the back. A dress, that a prissy little girl would be seen in skipping down the sidewalk, a true sissy's dress.

"Bobby I have decided on your punishment," Mom stated, entering my room.

"Am I grounded?" I sat on my bed under the covers.

"You are grounded for two weeks, during that time you will only wear dresses."

"Mom!"

She held her hand up to stop my protest, "That is while in the house, not to school."

I breathed a sigh of relief, not that I would have ever gone to school in a dress.

"And you will do Becky's chores."

"Mom I understand the grounding, but why do I have to do her chores? She's the one who pulled my hair and tried to break my finger."

"We're not negotiating your punishment."

I went to argue but she cut me off, "here this is for you."

"What is it?"

"A cincher; stand up, so I can put it on you."

"What's it for?" I asked without moving.

"To hold in your waist," She responded. "Now, get out from under the covers."

Becky listened to their conversation while she pulled the old pastel green sundress from her closet. The dress no longer fit her; however it was a better sissy dress then the red dress. From her dresser draw, she pulled out a white chemise, and then grabbed the red dress.

"Maybe the fatty should diet," Becky stated squeezing past Mom into my room. She was carrying two dresses. What surprised me; she was only wearing a white bra and panty. The slut was half-naked. She had no modesty.

"Becky!" I thought Mom was as shocked as I was with Becky walking around in lingerie.

"Just joking."

"It didn't sound like it."

"Sorry," whined Becky. "Here are your dresses," she said, hanging them on the wall hooks.

"The red dress fits but the sundress is closer to my size," She turned and looked at me.

I stayed under the covers. Apparently, Mom was not concerned with Becky walking around half-naked. I guess the bra and panty wasn't much different from wearing a bikini.

"Bobby we're waiting," Mom stated.

"Just leave it on the bed I'll put it on myself."

"Don't be silly, I'll help," Becky did her I care act.

Mrs. Strikler was happy to hear Becky being supportive. When she'd first considered encouraging Bobby too openly express his hidden desire to wear girl's lingerie, she worried how Becky would react. She now saw that she had nothing to worry about. The two may become close.

"Bobby quit being so modest and stand up," Mom said.

Becky grabbed the covers and pulled, "Just pretend we're all girls here."

I held onto the covers, "I can do it myself."

"Fine do it yourself. I'm only trying to help," Becky let go raising her hands in defeat.

"Mom, I can dress myself," I was embarrassed to be seen wearing the bra and panty.

"Bobby, you get out from beneath those covers now or Becky and I will yank you out."

I could see Becky was enjoying my predicament. "Okay," I said, standing.

My bedroom is not much bigger than a walk in closet, so when I stood I was against Becky. I was not trying to intimidate her. There was not enough room for the three of to stand. Becky looked me up and down but did not move. Her smug attitude was annoying. I went to stare her down, to let her know she was not better than me.

She looked me in the eye and smiled, "Your boobs are crooked."

"Oh Bobby, you don't have your bra on correct. You have the strap all twisted; I told you yesterday how to wear your bra." Mom shook her head in disgust, "Let me fix your bra."

It is hard for a brother to intimidate his sister, when he is being told by his mother that he is wearing his bra wrong. I dropped my head and slouched. Mom handed me the cincher to hold while she fixed my bra straps and shaped my breasts. When she finished shaping my breasts, she started fussing with my hair. I wanted to push her hand away but stood; accepting my fate.

"You can give me the cincher, I'll put it on you," Becky said.

Reluctantly I handed Becky the cincher. Mom thanked her for the help. I didn't believe that the tiny garment would ever fit around my waist. Becky wrapped it around my stomach. The fabric was cold, so I sucked in my stomach; a reflex action.

Becky gave me encouragement, "There you go, good, keep sucking it in." Then she told Mom, "I think he must have worn one before."

I went to turn around, to tell her, 'fuck you bitch.' But she pulled hard on the cincher, driving her knuckles into my back. I straightened my back. I felt like I could not breathe. When she quit pushing and pulling, the cincher relaxed some, but little.

"There you go," Becky said.

"That's much better," Mom said.

"I can't breathe."

"You'll get use to it," Mom told me.

"I think he should wear the sundress," Becky said, taking the dress off the hook.

"That sounds good," Mom stated.

I stood in silence. The cincher was too tight. I pushed out with my stomach muscles to create breathing room. As soon as I relaxed, the cincher constricted.

"Mom I think this is too tight."

"You're fine Bobby. Now quit your complaining and help us."

"Raise your arms up," Becky asked.

I raised my arms.

"This is a chemise," She told me slipping it over my head.

The chemise felt weightless. Like the cincher, the fabric was cold. There was something about the fabric; I never felt anything so soft. The chemise also had a faint smell of Becky's perfume. A strange emotion came from donning the chemise. I never felt it before; it was a mixture of being thrilled, delighted, and proud. Any reluctance I felt earlier was gone.

"Do I step into the dress or does it slip on?" I hoped donning the dress would add to the experience. Not that I thought it was possible; the experience was already heavenly.

"It's best to step in," Becky held the dress in front of me.

I went to take the dress from her, "I can dress myself."

"I'll hold the dress for you. You'll rip it if you're not careful."

It was obvious she was not going to give me the dress. I stepped into the dress holding onto her shoulder, "thanks."

Mrs. Strikler watched her daughter and son, pleased with how they were getting along. They still bickered some, but Becky did offer to help and Bobby did thank her.

Becky pulled the dress up while I slid my arms through the sleeves. The dress fell into place. Becky spoke softly, "Turn around, so I zip you up." I saw her smile as I turned. I needed to suck my stomach in slightly so she could pull the zipper up. The dress was a skin tight fit. I ran my hands along the bodice. It was hard for me to understand; it was as if the dress was magical, I felt transformed. I now had a feminine figure. I was overcome with joy.

Mrs. Strikler saw his joy, "My, aren't you pretty."

I blushed.

"Let me see?" Becky asked.

I turned to show her. The skirt swirled as I turned, then it caressed my legs as it settled into place. I liked the feeling. I wanted to twirl around again.

"You are pretty in a dress," Becky stated.

I wanted to believe she was being sincere, but I had trouble trusting her.

"Bobby, help me make dinner," Mom asked.

I twirled around to face her, "Sure, Mom."

"I'll get dressed," Becky said pushing me forward so she could leave my room.

I followed Mom into the kitchen. The previous night wearing panties under my pants was tantalizing. Now, wearing them with a dress was unbelievable. With every step, I felt a new sensation. I had the urge to do pirouettes down the hall. I needed to keep my excitement under control.

It was difficult for me to pay attention to Mom's instructions on how to prepare dinner. Luckily all the instructions were printed on the package; pre-heat the oven, remove the plastic top, and set the timer. I didn't need instructions on how to cook the can of corn. I knew how to do that. While the turkey dinner was cooking, Mom taught me the proper way to set the table. I found helping in the kitchen thoroughly enjoyable, with every step and turn I made.

"Well Bobby, you are becoming a regular 'Suzie Homemaker,'" Mom told me.

"A what?"

"A 'Suzie Homemaker,'" She looked at me. "That was a term my old Home Economics teacher used."

Just then Becky walked into the kitchen, "I found an old pair of pumps that might fit you."

Becky is three years older than I am, but we are about the same size.

"Here try them on," She told me holding the shoes out for me to take.

I slowly took them from her, unsure if I should. It was odd. When I took the shoes, I was struck with guilt. The enjoyment I had received from the dress was replaced with concern. Perhaps it was the way Becky looked at me, but I started questioning what I was doing.

"Go ahead and try them on," Becky said.

I sat on the kitchen chair and dropped the shoes to the floor. I heard her words and more. I heard her tone, go ahead sissy boy.

"Bobby! That is no way for a young lady to sit," Mom told me. "Stand up."

Slowly, I stood, thinking about what Mom just called me, 'a young lady.'

"When you sit, you tuck your skirt," She showed me.

I sat down tucking my dress just as Mom instructed. I had hoped that I would be overcome with a new sensation. But, nothing happened. When I bent over to put on the white pumps, I hoped that the joy I felt a few seconds ago would return. Still, nothing happened. All I felt was the shoes were too tight. I had doubts about who I was and what I was doing.

"Becky do they use the term 'Suzie Homemaker' in school," Mom asked

"Never heard of it, why?"

"I was just telling Bobby he was becoming a regular 'Suzie Homemaker.' He didn't know what I was talking about, either."

"A 'Suzie Homemaker,' isn't that sweet," Becky teased.

There was a knock on the front door.

"I'll get it," Becky said, running to the door.

As she did, I stepped back into the hall so whoever was at the door could not see me. Becky thought about the term 'Suzie Homemaker' as she stepped to the door. Then she thought of Bobbie – 'The Suzie Homemaker.' She thought how she needed a photograph to go with that title.

"Hi Becky, is Bobby home."

"Hi Vanessa, he's here, come in."

"Bobby," Becky called out. Then it came to her, "Bobbie Sue, Vanessa is here."

I stood in the hall, feeling trapped not knowing what to do. I looked to the back door, escaping out the back door was a possibility, but not the way I was dressed. I considered hiding in my bedroom, but that idea seamed stupid.

"Bobbie Sue," Becky smiled to herself, "didn't you hear me? Vanessa is here."

"Hi Vanessa," Mom greeted her.

"Mrs. Strikler I came to apologize," Vanessa said as she walked in.

When she saw me, she stopped talking and smiled, "Hi Bobby."

"Hey," I said softly, barely audible.

Mrs. Strikler thought about the name Becky had given Bobby, "Bobbie Sue you're not done setting the table."

"Okay."

Timidly I walked into the kitchen. It was awkward to walk in the pumps. I glanced up at Vanessa several times. I felt uneasy with the way she was staring at me, the way her eyes followed me.

"Doesn't Bobbie Sue look pretty?" Becky asked Vanessa.

Vanessa thought Bobbie looked pretty in the green sundress. She was about to agree with Becky but felt it may give her true feelings away. Feelings she did not understand, strong feelings, lustful feelings. She decided to stay silent and watch Bobby Sue.

"Vanessa, it was sweet of you to come over to apologies, but Bobbie wasn't in trouble for wearing make-up. He got himself in trouble for not helping Becky."

"Oh – well, I feel like I'm to blame," Vanessa said still staring.

"You're not to blame," Mom assured her.

"Bobby, after you are done eating can you come over and help me with my Spanish homework?" Vanessa asked.

"Bobbie Sue is grounded for two weeks. I am afraid he is not going anywhere," Mom stated.

"Sorry," I told Vanessa with a shrug and a frown.

Becky thought he looked cute pouting, "Is Vanessa allowed over?"

Mom thought about the question. Vanessa looked at her, hoping the answer would be yes. "Okay, Vanessa can come over, to study," Mom stated handing me cans of soda to put on the table. Vanessa watched me finish setting the table until the oven buzzer broke her focus.

"I should go," Vanessa stated.

I watched her walk to the door, "See you."

"Bye," Mom said.

Vanessa stopped at the door, "Bobby what time should I come back?"

I looked at Mom.

She looked overt at Becky, "How long will you need him tonight?"

"For about a half-hour; if he stands still, they can study while I pin the dress."

"Seven," I told her.

"Okay," Vanessa said stepping out the door. I thought I saw her wink at me just as she turned away.

"Let's eat," Mom declared.

Mom and Becky sat at the table while I served them. Still feeling clumsy in the pumps, I took small steps; afraid I might drop their food on the floor. Both thanked me and waited for me to sit down before eating. I tucked my skirt as I sat. Becky did most of the talking during dinner. Some of the joy I felt earlier started to return. I think it was because I saw my breasts every time I looked at my plate. After dinner, I helped Mom clean the kitchen.

Bobby was unaware of his movements. But, Mrs. Strikler noticed how when Bobbie bent to put the pans away he bent at the knees instead of bending over, and how Bobby flicked his hair just like Becky. Any doubts Mrs. Strikler had about encouraging Bobby to be himself were gone. She knew that she was doing the right thing for Bobby. Yet with the feeling of pride came sorrow, as Mrs. Strikler realized she would lose her son.

Becky moved the coffee table in the living room to make room for the stool; positioning it so Bobby would be standing in front of the window. Then she laid out her sewing items, some pins and a soap bar. Becky was delighted at how simple it was turning out to be to manipulate her dorky brother. He was becoming an ideal sissy. She wanted a record of his sissiness, some embarrassing photos she could pull out in the future.

"Mom, do we have a camera?" Becky asked.

"No, I don't think so," Mrs. Strikler answered still watching Bobby.

"What," I asked Mom?

"Ha"

"You're staring at me"

Mom smiled, then walked up and hugged me. Stepping back, she fixed my hair, just as she had fixed Becky's hair so many times. I stood dumbfounded. It appeared as if she was going to cry. I didn't understand what was transpiring.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing is wrong," Mom turned away, "Becky why do you want a camera?"

"I have to keep a progress record of my dress."

"Did you look in the junk drawer?"

Becky found a disposable camera in the end table drawer. She checked to see if it had any shots left, it had nine shots remaining. She had an idea for her first shot, 'A sissy in the kitchen.'

"Found one. Bobbie Sue, I'm ready for you." Becky moved towards the kitchen.

"Quit calling me Bobbie Sue."

"That's your name when you're dressed," Becky held the camera up.

I looked to Mom for help, "Mom!"

The flash went off, "It works," Becky stated.

"Bobbie Sue, go help your sister." Mom verbally pushed me along.

I did not think it was funny; Mom calling me Bobbie Sue, but I felt arguing with her would only get me in more trouble. "I'm coming."

I stepped up on to the stool.

"Becky you can't do that over the sundress. Bobbie Sue should be wearing a slip," Mom stated walking into the living room.

Mom had me follow her into her room. She helped me out of the sundress and the chemise. I was a little disappointed about having to take off the chemise. I was embarrassed to be standing in her room wearing nothing but my bra, panties and the cincher. Then, Mom pulled a white slip out of her drawer. It was trimmed with lace. It shimmered in the light and floated on the air. It was sensual. Without Mom asking, I held my arms up so she could slip it on me. The feeling of joy returned as the slip caressed my skin. I stopped breathing after it rested in place. Mom putting her hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality.

"Go help your sister," Mom spoke softly.

I stood on the stool watching Becky pinned the dress and use the bar of soap to put small tick marks along the seams. Becky constantly nagged for me to stand still. Her attitude was becoming annoying because I wasn't moving. I realized I was wrong and regretted calling her a bitch, but wondered how long I could endure her rule over me. I started to think of ways to get back at her; to somehow humiliate her.

Vanessa stood outside the trailer watching Bobbie Sue through the window. She could not believe how cute and sexy he looked. She thought, 'He is the boy I'm going to marry.' She knew the thought was childish, but it was a delightful romantic thought which made her happy. Vanessa watched for several minutes before knocking on the door.

Hearing the knock on the door filled me with fear. Becky answered the door telling me to stand still. Again, I became embarrassed at having Vanessa see me in a dress. I just felt Vanessa had to think I was a sick, weird boy.

"Wow! That is going to be beautiful," Vanessa told Becky.

"Thanks," Becky enjoyed the admiration.

"I love this shade of pink," Vanessa said feeling the fabric. "What is this, it feels so light and soft?"

"Chiffon."

"Vanessa can you do me a favor?" Becky asked.

"What?"

"Can you take some pictures of me working on the dress?" She asked as she picked up the camera.

"Sure."

"I don't want to be in your picture," I protested looking for Mom.

"Mom, Bobbie Sue is refusing to help," Becky called out.

"But," I stopped my protest and glared at Becky. I wanted to smack her but I worried about being punished further.

"What's wrong?" Mom asked from the kitchen table; annoyed that her reading had been interrupted.

"Nothing," Becky stated glaring back at me.

"Go ahead," I told Vanessa, knowing I didn't back down. I was just being smart in letting Becky think she had won. I knew, nobody would ever see the pictures.

Vanessa took a few photos. I surprised her by posing for her. After she was done taking the photographs, we started studying our Spanish. I stood on the stool while Vanessa asked me questions. Becky continued to pin the dress. Becky did not pay attention to the two of them. She worked while imagining Bobbie Sue in a frilly pink dress.

"OUCH!" I yelled almost losing my balance. "You stuck me, you." I restrained my desire to call her a dumb bitch.

"You moved."

"No I didn't"

"Yes you did! Now stand still or I'll shove this needle…" Becky saw the movement out of the corner of her eye.

"Now what is wrong?" Mom asked.

"He moved and I accidentally pricked him," Becky stated.

"I didn't move. She stuck me on purpose."

Becky did not speak aloud but mouthed the word to her mother, 'liar.'

"Why don't you two take a break," Mom was not in the mood to referee our argument.

"That is fine with me," I stepped down off the stool.

"Go," Becky stated while collecting her stuff.

My feet were sore from standing. I wanted to sit in the sofa.

"No, you can't sit down," Vanessa cried out. "You will ruin the dress."

"Oh God, if you ruin my dress…" Becky gave me an icy stare.

"Bobbie Sue you can't sit in the dress, you'll rip the seams apart," Mom explained.

"Sorry. My feet hurt. I want to sit."

At that moment, I wanted to flop into the chair. I wanted to gloat after all the seams ripped out and Becky ran into her room crying. I wanted them to quit calling me Bobbie Sue.

"Can you quit calling me Bobbie Sue," I tried not to sound nasty.

Mom looked at me, "You will have to change if you want to sit down."

"Can I?" I didn't think I was permitted to change.

"I'm done with you for now," Becky stated.

I felt better neither had called me Bobbie Sue. "Good" I turned to walk back to my bedroom.

"Bobbie Sue your dress is in my room," Mom stated.

I stopped and turned towards her. I wanted to remind her that I asked not to be called Bobbie Sue. Mom pointed towards her room.

"Right."

"I better help you out of the dress," Vanessa declared, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bobby in his lingerie. She felt a pang of guilt over the desire and worried that she might be a little perverse for wanting to sneak a peek at her best friend in his lingerie. But, ever since she'd seen Bobby in the bra the other night, that was all she'd thought about. She couldn't get the image of him out of her thoughts.

"I don't need help."

"You better let her help," Mom declared.

"Okay," I didn't have a choice.

"Put the dress in my room," Becky ordered.

Once in the bedroom, Vanessa unclipped the safety pins. She watched Bobby step out of the dress. She did not feel any guilt over watching. She enjoyed the view. She saw more than she hoped; the panty line under his slip and his breasts in profile, covered with lace scallops. She could not explain why seeing the images excited her. She just felt compelled to look.

Vanessa laid the dress on the bed, "I'll let you finish changing."

"Can you help me put my dress on?" I was embarrassed by my statement, 'my dress'. "It's not mine, its Becky's. I have to wear it as part of my punishment."

"Punishment, I wondered why you were wearing a dress earlier."

"I know it's an odd punishment. Mom thought it fit, for me letting you put the make-up on me." I considered telling her about my calling Becky a bitch but I did not think she would be sympathetic.

"I'm sorry."

I could see that Vanessa was sincere; that made me feel low. I regretted lying to her, "It's not all your fault; I was having fun."

Vanessa looked at me and smiled. I became aware of how pretty her smile was. I felt better and smiled back. She surprised me with a hug. Not knowing what else to do I returned the hug.

Vanessa was surprised with how sexy the slip felt on him. She resisted the urge to let her hand slip down to his panty covered ass.

"Hey you two take it to your room," Becky jabbed.

Startled and embarrassed, we separated. I was about to make a comment when a train whistle blew. It was the North bound eight-o-five. The whistle blew again. The trailer started to shake. The whistle blew again directly outside the window, it was deafening. The low roar of the diesel engines filled the room.

"Fuck you bitch," I told Becky in a soft voice.

Becky didn't hear what I said but saw my mouth move. I think she knew what I said. She stood by the door glaring at me, waiting for the train to pass. I took my green sundress off the bed. I didn't have to ask, Vanessa helped put it on me. We all lived in the trailer park long enough to know that holding a conversation while a train passed was impossible. The roar of the engine lessened. The whistle blew again, sounding more distant. The trailer quit shaking, but it still vibrated with the steady cha-clunk sound the train cars made as they passed by.

Vanessa zipped me into the sundress, while Becky waited in the doorway. Looking in the living room, she let Vanessa pass. But when I went to pass she sucker punched me in the stomach, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Then she grabbed my hair and pushed me back into the room. "This isn't over sissy," she warned me, shoving me back.

I walked out of the room rubbing my stomach. I was surprised and shocked by her. She had beaten on me before; but never when Mom was home. I told myself she was lucky Mom was home or I would have taught her a lesson. I quit rubbing my stomach when Becky glanced back at me.

As Vanessa and I sat next to each other on the sofa, Becky sat in the easy chair. I tried to ignore her, but she kept grinning. Vanessa appeared disappointed and annoyed.

"Bobbie Sue, are you going to offer your guest a drink?" Becky asked.

I glared at her. I didn't want her calling me Bobbie Sue.

Before I could ask, Vanessa stated, "I'll have a Coke."

I got up to get her a Coke.

"While you're up why don't you be a sweetheart and get me one, too" Becky suggested as sweet as she could

I was about to flip Becky off when Mom entered the room, "My pleasure; anything for you, Sis."

"Can you put that in a glass with ice? Thanks." She wanted to add 'Don't forget to curtsy when you hand it to me,' but Mom was in the room.

"Sure, I can do that," I went into the kitchen.

Vanessa watched Bobby walk away. She thought he would look sexier in heels. She wondered how she could get him to wear stockings and heels. She continued with her thoughts while Bobby served the drinks to everyone. She watched his every move, the way he tucked his skirt and crossed his legs when he sat down. She felt a pang of rejection over the distance between them when Bobby sat. She wanted him next to her.

"Becky, do you have a minute?" Mom asked her.

"Sure, Mom," Becky appeared happy to help.

I watched them walk back towards Becky's room. It was uncharacteristic for Becky to be willing to help. I was curious about what they were doing. Becky glanced back at me and smiled before entering her room.

Vanessa reached out and took my hand, "Hey do you want to study now?"

"Sure"

When Becky and Mom returned, Vanessa removed her hand. I wondered what they had discussed. Before either could sit down, the phone rang.

"I got it," Becky ran into the kitchen.

"Hello."

"Hi Aunt Monica."

Becky adored Aunt Monica. To her, Aunt Monica is the ideal woman. I find it hard to be around her more then an hour. I love her, but she always has to be in charge.

"I'm doing great, and you?"

"I'm sewing a prom dress..." She told Aunt Monica all about the dress.

"He is here"

"Yes he is."

When Becky walked down the hall for privacy, I worried she would tell Aunt Monica about my wearing a dress. Becky's silence was a condition of my helping her. If Becky said anything, then I would be off the hook. I considered going into mom's bedroom to eavesdrop on the other phone. Just as I was about to stand Mom got up and went into her bedroom; shutting the door behind her.

Vanessa and I studied for a half-hour before she had to leave. I think she left early because she could see I was distracted. It was hard for me to focus on Spanish when I wandering what Becky and Mom were telling Aunt Monica. At the door, Vanessa hugged me and gave me a small kiss on the cheek. I got the impression she wanted to kiss me on the lips. I never thought about kissing her before, but the idea was pleasant. I wondered what it would be like to kiss her. I dismissed the idea. We were friends… she could never be interested in me. Then I thought about how girls hugged each other and sometimes kissed each other on the cheek. I remembered the small hug she gave me at the bus stop, the nail polish and helping me with my dress. As I shut the door, I touched my cheek where she'd kissed me. It dawned on me; she was seeing me as a girl friend.

"I love you – bye," Becky said to Aunt Monica as she walked into the kitchen. She set the phone on the receiver just as I told her to wait. I wanted Aunt Monica to have the opportunity to ask me what I wanted for my birthday. I didn't want to be stuck receiving clothes.

"Oh, did you want to talk to her," Becky said, smiling.

I glared at her. I somehow needed to get my life back. I thought about begging Mom to relent on my punishment.

"Too late," Becky studied the way Bobby was behaving. She watched him fidget with his hair and pout. She decided her baby brother really is a sissy, "Don't worry she knows your birthday is next Saturday."

That remark ticked me off, "I wanted to say hi. Not everybody is manipulative as you." What I said was a lie. Aunt Monica is bossy and hard for me to be with. She has a need to control everybody. I assumed her need to control others was why she never married. I didn't think anybody could stand to live with her. However, she was rich, and enjoyed spending money on her favorite niece and nephew. Aunt Monica had offered to send us to summer camp and invited us to spend a month at her beach house. She even offered to take us to Europe, but Mom always says no.

"I know what she bought you."

"So," I tried not to act interested.

"Do you want me to tell you?"

I knew she asked to tease me and probably wouldn't tell. But I wanted to know, "What?"

"Not!" Becky smirked, "What a dork."

I opened and closed my mouth. I had a few words I wanted to say but restrained myself. She smiled and stepped in front of me. She stood inches from me and stared, "You got something to say."

I did, but decided it was best not to argue, "I'm going to bed." I did not attempt to move her out of my way; I waited for her to step aside.

"First you need to get some things out of my room," She turned expecting me to follow.

I followed her to her bedroom where I saw a small pile of clothes on her bed, a couple of skirts and some tops. There was also a pair of pink knee socks that matched the pink top. I turned to Becky.

"What's all this for?"

"For you, Mom said you needed more outfits."

"I don't need them."

"Mom thinks you do."

"I don't want them."

Becky moved to the bed and picked up the pink top. She held it in front of me, turning on the sweet routine when she asked, "Don't you think the pink top would go nicely with the nail polish and lipstick you are wearing?"

I just stared at her.

"I do, I think you would look darling." Finally she got tired waiting for a response, "Don't you?"

"Fuck you," I said it softly.

"Oh my - such a filthy mouth." Becky then looked to the door, "Say that again! Mom didn't hear you."

"Fuck you," I said it a little louder, fed up with her attitude.

Becky was surprised, and a little bit upset that the geek was getting some backbone. She couldn't have that. A proper sissy would never talk back. To gauge how defiant he was going to be, she glared at him. She could see he was nervous, he couldn't stand still, nor could he set his posture. Becky continued to stare, and then grinned.

I looked down and straightened my dress. I told myself, 'In less then two weeks my punishment would be over, and then I would have my revenge.' I realized I was fixing the skirt on my dress out of nervousness. I stopped and looked up at Becky just as she held the top to my shoulders, letting it drape on my chest.

"Yes pink looks good on you," She gently pushed me back.

I stepped back until my back touched the wall.

Becky stopped pushing, "Don't you agree?"

At that moment, I decided not to resist. As I told my self a second earlier, I had less than two weeks remaining. The two weeks would be over in a flash. I thought, 'Once things are back to normal, where I'm the good son and she is the bad daughter; that is when I will get her.'

So I just answered in a soft voice, "Yes."

Becky knew she had him, "That reminds me. Mom wanted me to give you one more item." She stepped to her dresser and pulled out a blue nightgown from the top drawer, "she said you need something to sleep in." She held up a medium length blue nightgown with short puffy sleeves and lace trim.

I looked at the nightgown, thinking that it was pretty. I found myself wondering what it would be like to sleep in it, followed by a small voice warning me, 'you're a boy.'

"I can't sleep in that!" It came out sounding more like a statement than a protest.

Becky tossed me the nightgown then turned to the drawer. "If you don't like that one, I have another." She pulled out a pink nightshirt, "Maybe you'll like this better, it's pink…" She turned and held it out, "You're fond of pink."

I felt that I should be protesting, but instead I fondled the blue nightgown. It felt sexy. I realized I wanted to know what it would be like to sleep in the nightgown. Besides, it was Mom who was making me wear the nightgown. It was not my idea. I told myself, 'The punishment was over in less than two weeks. I may never have another opportunity.'

"So, which do you prefer the pink or the blue?"

"Ah, if I have to pick, this will do," blue was masculine.

"If, that is the one you want, enjoy." Becky put the pink nightshirt back in the drawer, "Go ahead and grab the rest of your clothes."

I did as I was told, bundling the clothes in my arms.

"After you change into your nightgown I'll help you take your nail polish off, unless of course, you want to wear it to school tomorrow."

"Ah, no, no I don't," I turned to leave.

"Just a second," Becky grabbed my shoulder.

I stopped. I wanted to turn but Becky's hand on my shoulder prevented me. "Let me help you with your dress," She told me as she unhooked the top clasp. Then she pulled the zipper down half way.

"Thanks," I said it without thinking.

Walking to my room, I thought, 'Why did I thank her.' When I entered my room I did not know what I should do with all my new clothes, so I put them on top of my dresser. I stepped out of my dress and tossed it on the bed. I studied my reflection in the mirror. The bra and panty looked sexy on me. I found having breasts and an hourglass figure, because of the cincher, enhanced my image. I held the pink top up to my chest. I thought about to trying on all the new outfits, until I heard Becky walking down the hall. I quickly tossed the top on the pile of clothes; she could never know I was enjoying her clothes.

Becky went into the bathroom to get the nail polish remover and cotton balls. She then joined her mother in the living room. They spoke softly so as not to be overheard by Bobby.

"Does it bother you that Bobby is wearing girl's clothes?"

"No."

"Are you certain, you know you can tell me anything."

Becky thought for a minute. She had to suppress the desire to laugh, "I thought it somewhat weird at first, but to be honest I like Bobbie Sue. She is more fun." She paused, then added, "Does that make me weird?"

Mrs. Strikler took Beck's hand, "No, not at all." She gently patted Becky's hand as she spoke.

Becky thought, 'This is too simple.' "I do worry about how kids in school would treat Bobbie Sue if they ever found out."

"Bobby is so lucky to have you for a sister." Mrs. Striker gave Becky's hand an affectionate squeeze, "I too, worry about that."

Becky believed her mother was going to cry, "If the other kids are like Vanessa, he shouldn't have any problems."

"She does seem to be accepting it well." Mrs. Strikler had noticed the change in Vanessa.

I was nervous about leaving my room wearing the nightgown. It was yet another experience that made me question my manhood and sanity.

Mrs. Strikler was a surprised at what she saw, "Was he wearing…?"

Becky nodded her head, "He asked me for a nightgown."

"Really?"

"I was a little surprised when he asked. I could tell he was embarrassed to ask, so I told him that was a good idea, and let him pick one out of my draw." She paused. She could see that her Mom believed every word, "I think he picked the blue because it was frilly."

Mrs. Strikler sat in deep thought. When she'd decided to let Bobby discover who he was, she did not think about the outside world, or the expense it would entail. To buy Bobbie Sue a starter wardrobe could cost hundreds of dollars. She didn't have the money. She considered returning the gaming station and game that she had already purchased for his birthday; that would give her two hundred and fifty dollars to buy him clothes.

"I think Bobbie Sue would be happier if the nightgown was pink," Becky told her mother.

"What?"

"I think Bobbie Sue prefers pink, I think for Bobbie Sue's birthday I will buy him a pink nightgown."

"Yes, I think he would like that." Mrs. Strikler told Becky, while thinking about the reality of what she had started.

I brushed my teeth, loving the feel of the nightgown against my skin. It was so light and soft. I watched my breast shake as I brushed. I had taken the cincher off to breath, but I left the bra on. I didn't want to go back to being me, just yet. Like earlier in the day and the night before I was giddy inside. I didn't understand the feelings I got from wearing my sister's lingerie and nightgown; I just knew the emotional high was powerful.

I walked to the living room, "Would we have time to remove the polish in the morning? I'm tired?"

"Sure," Becky said.

Mom stood and walked over to me and fixed my hair again. Then she gave me a good night hug and kissed me on the forehead, "Good night, Dear, I love you."

"Good night, Mom," I hugged her back. I was happy that Mom had made me wear the lingerie and dress.

Becky shocked me by giving me a small hug, "Good night Sis."

"Good night," I muttered.

Vanessa had trouble falling asleep that night. As she lay in her bed thinking about Bobbie wearing the slip, she found the image sexually exciting. She wondered what was wrong with her. A good friend does not sneak peeks at their best friend in their lingerie; even if the friend looks sexy. She thought about their hug. She thought about how silky and smooth the slip felt against his skin. She wished she'd felt the slip over his panty-covered bottom. She brought up the image of his sexy bottom, with the panty lines showing through the slip. Her thoughts went full circle back to wondering what was wrong with her. Then she thought about the image of the lace scallops covering Bobbie Sue's breasts. When, Vanessa finally fell asleep her dreams were erotic.

After lying in bed for an hour, I realized I would never be able to sleep wearing the bra and fake breasts. I wondered if Becky and Mom wore a bra to bed. I also wondered if real beasts felt like two lumps. I sat up and took off the bra. Looking down and seeing my flat chest was disappointing, but I needed to sleep. I went back to bed wrapping the covers around me. I lay curled up thinking about the last couple days. It was all so confusing. … Why did I enjoy wearing my sister's lingerie? Why did looking pretty all of a sudden become important to me? Why did I miss having breasts? What was wrong with me?

Becky had no trouble sleeping. She fell into a deep slumber. She entered a dream world were she was a CEO and top fashion designer. She was rich. She was powerful, and she was beautiful. In her dream world, she stood in a luxurious office, while below her thousands of teen age boys slaved over sewing machines. She watched the muscles on the boy's sweaty body's ripple as they pushed the fabric through the machines. She smiled; all that brawn was under her control.

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2007 by Robin Diaz. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.