Nelle

by: Sarah Dechand

Part 2

As winter passed, our relationship stayed warm. I became a much more fastidious and androgynous dresser at work. More fastidious, since I wished to spare myself the embarrassment of being found out as a crossdresser, but more androgynous too, since the more feminine I appeared to be, the less surprising it would be to others if I were actually caught. Nelle frequently asked me to "borrow" some of her less overtly femimine outfits – slacks and blouses, and I wore them camoflaged under sweaters and blazers. The body shapers became a more permanent part of my wardrobe. I now owned several myself.

Nelle kept up an interest in the shape of my body. She kept my waist cinched in, but insisted that I eat rich, fatty, and sweet foods. The result was that my waist size was staying constant, but the rest of me was getting fatter. Nelle seemed quite pleased with my "progress," and her fondest caresses were reserved for my newly fat ass, legs, and tummy.

On the other hand my performance at work was suffering. I was frequently distracted, and often turned on by my situation. I counted the minutes between arriving in the morning and our fire escape break; and then between the fire escape and lunch, and finally between lunch and the end of the day, when I could return home to play. I spent a long time in the bathroom, taking care of myself. My usual carefree demeanor turned colder and more guarded, as I wished to conceal the true nature of my personal life from my co-workers.

They all thought (correctly) I was dating Nelle, but there is no way that they could know that, for instance on Valentines Day, I bought her flowers and chocolates and a nice card. She said that they were nice, but that the best Valentines gift would be me! She gave me pink silk tap pants and a matching camisole, and tied me to the bed for a good ass-reaming. Afterwords, still tied to the bed, she fed me all of the chocolates 1 by 1. I didn’t want to eat them all, but Nelle definitely wanted to force me to eat them. It’s hard to say who got off more on this exchange of power – Nelle or me.

And Nelle was doing better at work. Her energy and efficiency were paying off, and she had time left over after completing the rather menial tasks that she was obliged to perform – keeping up to date on the service contracts, managing the coffee service, keeping the office supplies stocked, and so on. With this extra time, she started doing some research for Madison, our boss. He seemed very pleased with her work, and was said to be thinking about hiring a new office manager so that Nelle could focus exclusively on his projects.

Nelle and I were hanging out one weekend in March after a heady round of sex, and we decided to go for a bite to eat. She excused herself and got cleaned up, put on a pair of jeans, a turtleneck, and a sweater. Meanwhile, obligingly after getting myself cleaned up, I put on my panties, shaper and tights, but when she handed me my work clothes, I balked, saying – hey, let’s just take it easy and relax, nothing too fancy!

My reluctance didn’t make such a hit with Nelle. She said she liked her dates well dressed but I was really not willing to go to great lengths to get ready – shave, shower, go through all of the things I must go through to make a good appearance. It was too much of a stretch, I thought, but Nelle drew me out further. She said – "you wanted this, didn’t you, didn’t you?" – daring me, and I had to admit to myself that I really did, but I just wasn’t ready. So I said "yes, but don’t you want to take it easy, a little?"

There was a moment of uncertainty, but then an idea struck her. "OK, We’ll take it easy." And so Nelle went to the dresser – not the closet, and dug through the bottom drawer. She handed me a cotton turtleneck with a pink rose print. "Put this on."

Then she pulled another garment out from the drawer - a pair of fuscia cotton jersey sweatpants. I put them on over my pantyhose and shaper. They were a little bit tight. She inspected, as usual, and pulled them up to the narrowest part of my body, over the belly-button, and cinched tight the drawstring, tying it as tightly as possible, and doubled the knot. I became self-conscious about my new, casual appearance, as the sweats fit closely over my body, which was smoothed in front to a flat contour by the shaper, which was itself visible through the material of the turtleneck.

"Well, that should do it – let’s go." She said brightly.

But I paused. I just couldn’t go out in the outfit. It would have been just too embarrassing.

"What’s the matter?" asked Nelle.

"I’ll be embarrassed." I said.

So Nelle paused a moment, and went back to the drawer. "We wouldn’t want that to happen, sweetie. Here – put this on too." and so, she handed me the matching sweatshirt. I put it on, pulling it down over the sweatpants, but Nelle intervened. "You’ll stretch it out if you wear it that way!" she said, adjusting it so that the waistband fit around my waist, above my hips, and the shirt sort of bloused out. I looked in the mirror, and saw that the chest was embroidered with a patch of flowers and butterflies. To complete the outfit, I put on a pair of white socks, and my new white running shoes.

Nelle put on her fleece vest, grapped her keys, and handed me a heavy wool full length blue double-breasted coat, saying, "I know you may want to keep a little covered up." I was grateful, since the prospect of going out in a fuscia sweatsuit embroidered with flowers over a body shaper and a rose printed turtleneck was a little scary. She buttoned the coat all the way up and we left.

As we went downstairs, I realized that I left my keys and wallet in her apartment. "Nelle, Wait, we have to go back, I left my keys and wallet," I said, but Nelle just smiled and told me "No pumpkin. I’m taking you out. Think of it as a kind of mother/daughter thing." At this point, I started to feel a little bit scared, since it was clear to me who was to be the "mother" and who was to be the "daughter."

As we left the building, I realized that it was a beatiful 50 degree early spring day. The way I was dressed, in my sweats and heavy coat, I would surely start to pour out sweat the moment we began to walk.

"Let’s go to the ‘k’," she said – referring to our favorite diner, where we had both eaten independent of one another for years before meeting. Strange how we never met there. It was a 15 block walk from her apartment, nothing unusual for us, but this time, the circumstance was a little different. "No, let’s go around the corner, I’ll be hot" I said, suggesting our second favorite place.

"Stop whining and let’s go," she said with authority, taking me by the hand and walking briskly down the street. I went along, because I knew that if I made a scene, I would pay for it with a riches of embarrassment.

It became apparent that Nelle was not going to let loose of my hand, after a block or so, and I really did begin to get uncomfortably hot. I knew then that she had planned it this way, so that I would be compelled to take off my coat, so that I would be as public as can be in my embroidered fuscia sweatsuit. My sense of love for her was never stonger, but my sense of defeat and submission had never been deeper. "Nelle…" I said.

"Yes sweetie?"

"I’d like to take off this heavy coat, please."

"Do you think that’s a good idea, honey? Won’t you get cold?"

"No, I’m too hot right now. I want to take it off. Please."

"I don’t think it’s right, do you? Won’t you catch cold? You wouldn’t want to get sick, would you?"

"Please can I take it off?" I said, my voice cracking a bit.

"Stop. Whining." she said shortly, and without breaking stride, and we continued silently on for another block. The sweat was starting to form inside the turtleneck, and I felt the hot flush in my face. I was miserably uncomfotable, so after another block, I asked again.

"Please may I take off the coat, Nelle?"

"Don’t you want to say: Please Mommy."

I had known since the "mother daughter" remark that something like this would happen, but still, the words stuck in my throat. I just couldn’t say it, but I knew that I would have to in order to remove the hot coat. So I gathered myself, and asked: "Please, mommy."

"Please what dear?"

"Please may I take off my coat, mommy."

Nelle abruptly stopped and let go of my hand, and as I reached up to undo the buttons, she slapped my hand away. With a few quick motions, she unbuttoned the coat, and pulled it brusquely off of me, and held it folded over her left arm, and with another quick motion, she delivered a sharp slap to my butt, and grabbed my left hand, saying a little too loud for my taste, though with some humor: "I hope you’re happy now, you whining, spoiled brat. You had better behave the rest of the day."

As she strode on, I thought I could sense the anger in her voice, but at the same time, I felt relief from being released from the confines of the uncomfortable coat. On the other hand, I was struck breathless at the situation, for there I was in my fuscia sweatsuit and rose print turtleneck, completely uncovered, with no pockets, no money, no keys, nowhere to go at all, except where Nelle wanted to take me. And it was evident too, that the outfit drew some notice. Its cut, the way it fit over my body shaper, together with its color and the flowers made it an unmistakably feminine outfit, but unfortunately, without make-up, I could not even dream of passing for a woman. Judging from the faces of people who passed by, we were quite a spectacle.

And Nelle was getting seemingly more angry as we walked along. I thought that she might have felt burdened by the coat, so I said

"Nelle, I can take the coat. I’ll just carry it, like you are now."

This caused yet another stop, and she bent close to me.

"Mommy." She said quietly, but roughly, thrusting the word into my face. "Today, you will call me mommy. And I will decide whether you are able to carry your coat, and you will thank me by saying ‘thank you mommy’ when I do something nice for you, like take your coat. Do you understand?"

Defeated, I made the required response: "Yes mommy."

As we walked the rest of the way to the ‘k’, I tried to block out the stares of all the people, but there was nothing I could do to cover up my outfit, and no place to rest my one free hand. Yet the further we walked, and the more stares we drew, the less uncomfortable I started to feel, and Nelle too, seemed to relax a bit. We actually started talking again, like we had been doing before our discovery, about our dreams and impressions of the world, architecture and shop windows, when we arrived at the ‘k’. As we walked in, my mood changed instantly. People at this place actually knew us, and recognized us as a couple. They were about to get a new and totally different impression.

I was hoping that there would be a booth available to us, but unfortunately, there was none. In fact, the only seat available was a window seat on the avenue. Nelle seemed not to mind, but I was dreading it. She took my coat over to the coat rack while I sat down. The busboy raised his eyebrows as he poured our water, but Nelle gave him the hairy eyeball, and he somehow managed to suppress his laughter. When the waitress arrived with menus, Nelle accepted only one, which she kept to herself. I knew better than to ask, so I just let her do the ordering. She got herself a cheeseburger deluxe and a diet soda. For me she ordered a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a chocolate milkshake. It was difficult to eat such sweet stuff, but I could see that Nelle was kind of enjoying my discomfort, so I tried to relax some more and finish. I also got a few french fries from her plate.

"Do you want desert, sweetie?" She asked. And I shook my head and said quietly, no. I knew better than to complain about the food she had just bought me. "Well, you have been very cooperative today on our little outing, and I think you should get some reward." She smiled. I dreaded this. "Wouldn’t you like a nice piece of chocolate cake with some ice cream?" "No." "How about an ice cream sundae?" "NO. Please no." "Well. You certainly are the stubborn little miss today, aren’t you. What do you want, anyway?"

"I want to go home."

"Are you tired?"

"No, I just want to go."

"But why, honey? It’s such a lovely day for our little outing, and we’ve only just begun."

"Truthfully, Nelle, I’m a little bit embarrassed." I said, since it seemed as though she would be ok with an honest answer.

Her face hardened, and as she called for the check, she said under her breath - "You’re going to regret saying that before the day is done, missy. You don’t have any idea what embarrassment really is." When the check was paid, she got up to get my coat, and we walked out once again to face the world. As we left, I wondered what it would be like to go back to the "k." Would they remember my little fuscia sweatsuit and my flowered turtleneck? Or would they remember my kiddie meal instead? yeesh.

Instead of going back uptown, Nelle headed across town, me in tow as before. We were definitely not going home. I had an idea about our destination. We would be going shopping for sure, but where?

"Bet you’re wondering where we’re going, swee-tee." said Nelle.

"I have no idea."

"Can’t you guess?"

"Are we going shopping?"

"You are a smart girl. Yes. We are going to do a little shopping. I think it’s time you had some of your own things to wear, besides your pretty underthings."

It was then that I realized that I would indeed regret not eating the sundae. I was sure that what she purchased for me would be no easier to wear out than my current sweatsuit outfit, and might be more appropriate to wear to – say – the office, than anything else I had put on before. Soon, we reached our destination, the Goodwill superstore. There were aisles and aisles of second hand clothing, and no doubt, some of it had my name on it. We went first to the blouse section. They were arranged by color, and Nelle went straight to the white ones. "I want you to find one in size 12, 14, or 16, preferably with the buttons in back. If you can’t find one that buttons in back, find one that buttons at the shoulder. If you still can’t find one, then pick one with lace on the collar or the front, or a big bow. If you find two, get them both. Then move on to the pinks, the off-whites, and then the prints. I should be back before you are done. Understand."

I understood, and went grimly about my task. Before long, I found a white blouse that met Nelle’s instructions, and another. They were both silky, and both buttoned in back. One had a turtleneck collar, the other, a round, peter pan like collar and pleats down the front. I moved on to the pinks, and immediately found another silky turtleneck–like blouse with a pleated front. I had no further "luck" with the pinks, although there was a front buttoning blouse with a big bow in a size 16. I left it on the rack and hoped that Nelle would interpret her instructions the same way that I did. In the off-whites, I found a high collared victorian style cotton blouse, with a stand up collar and ruffles and lace at the neck. As I was going through the prints, Nelle returned, her armful of clothes concealed by my coat.

As anxious as I was to see what she carried, she seemed even more anxious to see my selections, so I showed her the 4 I had picked out. As she nodded her approval to each, the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach grew, since I knew that it meant that someday, I would be wearing each blouse. At last, she said "Those are great sweetie, but I think you also need to get a light blue one too. I’ll look at the prints."

As I riffled through the light blues, looking for a match, I began to dread how things were going to work out. With every passing day, I was sinking deeper into Nelle’s clutches, and while a part of me definitely enjoyed it, I felt that there was definitely a line I did not want to cross. I wanted to keep my identity as private as I could, and enjoy the moments we spent together. This did not have to be shared with the public, although for Nelle’s sake, I was willing to go along. But I could not see imposing on my friends and colleagues at work, my social friends, my family, or even my neighbors. I feared that at least some of this would have to happen, the way things were going. As it was, I felt lucky that only the "k" staff had seen me, and not someone else I knew.

As I found a blue blouse that fit the bill, an oxford cloth with pin-tucks in front and an embroidered collar, Nelle added a couple of prints to the pile, an offwhite sunflower and rose paisley silk that buttoned at the shoulder and had a bow, and a dark blue floral with a round collar and full sleeves. We made our way to the cashier, and Nelle noted that I would have one for every day of the week. I lay them on the counter and eagerly looked to see what Nelle had picked. They were pants – 3 pairs, a pair of overalls, and a long floral jumpsuit. Quite a wardrobe, and it only cost her $50.00. Nelle herself might have worn any of these items, but it was clear. They were for me.

We left Goodwill with three large shopping bags, two for my new clothes and one for my coat, and we started uptown. A short while later we came upon a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant. I had never been a fan of the Colonel’s but Nelle took us in. Although it was only an hour or two after our "k" experience, I had to admit I was a little hungry. Nelle ordered 4 pieces and two biscuits, with a diet coke and a large chocolate shake. She had the diet coke. "You eat the rest." She said.

"But Nelle," I began.

"Mommy." she interjected

"Mommy, I don’t want to get big and fat,"

"Mother knows best, and if you know what’s best for you, you’ll eat," said Nelle.

It took nearly an hour, but I finished. During the meal, Nelle talked about her dream of starting her own design practice. I had to admit that she had excellent taste, and she could definitely steer people to making decisions she wanted, and that she was gaining enough experience to do it. I told her that the thing she might lack was a marketing plan – how would people know to call on her, without a client base first? The discussion was quite interesting, and I would have forgotten that I was dressed in a silly fuscia sweatsuit, but the tight waistband of the sweatpants was really cutting into me, and my body shaper was starting to feel like a medieval torture. I was glad that when we left, Nelle insisted on taking a taxi back to her place. I felt sick, but I accepted that fattening me up was part of the game.

When we got home, I plopped down on the sofa, and began to untie the knot in the sweatpants that was being pressed into my stomach. I had never felt so full, not even after our 3 breakfast date of a weekend ago. But Nelle saw and yelled "Stop that!" So I stopped. "But can’t I just loosen it up a little? It’s pressing into me and it’s annoying!" I complained.

"You know your complaints will do you no good here. But alright, you can loosen up your sweatpants. Just do me a favor and put this on instead." A simple white cotton belt, with two silver loops on one end. I put it on, and Nelle cinched it as tight as she could, which hurt some, but was not nearly so painful as the knot. "Now, can I trust you not to loosen it, or do I have to take some additional measures?" She asked.

I said that I would not loosen it, and as my body dealt with the huge meal for the next few hours, I was true to my word, for I fell asleep from satiation.

When I awoke several hours later, Nelle was sitting on the couch next to me, watching my face with a quizzical expression. "huh?!" I asked – and she broke out into a smile. I realized that it was now about 7 o’clock Sunday – dark outside, and the 60 minutes stopwatch was ticking on the TV. I had to go to the bathroom, so I got up, and went. While I was in there, Nelle said brightly – "Hey, why don’t you clean up a bit, and we can try on your new stuff!" So I washed up. I would have anyway – all that food made had me feel pretty disgusting. I left wearing my panties, bodyshaper, and tights, and I cinched the waist belt tight again – better safe than sorry. It was in this state that I left the security and privacy of the bathroom and entered the bedroom.

Nelle had spread the new purchases out on the bed, and was looking them over. I tried on the blouses one by one. The pinks, the whites, the print, the blue, and unfortunately, they all fit.

The last blouse was the white one with the peter pan collar, and I put my arms in and pulled it up around my shoulders. Of course, I could reach only the top and bottom two buttons. The three in the middle had to be buttoned by Nelle. If I had to describe the way I felt at the moment, it would be that I was "owned" by Nelle, and under her control. She selected a pair of green and white wool houndstooth slacks, and gave them to me. They were lined, had a wide waistband, and had a hidden zipper and two buttons in the back. I pulled them on, and Nelle arranged my blouse so that it would tuck in straight. Then she gave a tug to bring the pants snug against my crotch, and zipped and buttoned them.

I had to admit that my body did appear quite feminine, though somewhat flat chested. The cut of the clothes and the pulled in waist, and the absence of a certain bulge in front did the trick. I felt kind of uncomfortable, though, like things were too tight and too loose all at once. "They fit great!" said Nelle. "Now try these"

So I put on the next pair of pants, which were a grey cotton twill, and found that they fit in much the same way. They had some stretch to them, though, and for some reason, seemed to expose me more than the houndstooth. I took them off with some relief. But before I could relax, Nelle handed me the overalls. They were pink and white gingham checked, and had a long back zipper. They were loose fitting, and high waisted, and had a bow which tied in back to define the figure. Naturally, they had no pockets. They were loose and drapey and came down to about mid-calf, like a dress, but they also reminded me of the confining feeling I had wearing the pants.

"I want you to imagine that you are wearing this outfit to work" she whispered in my ear. I felt a chill. I just couldn’t. It would be too much to explain to all of the others. My boss. My subordinates. No way. I did not want them to know that I liked this, or even thought about it. And yet, I had to admit I liked myself zipped and buttoned up in back. We ordered chinese, and Nelle made me pay the delivery in my outfit, and we stayed in to watch TV. The whole time, I wore the pink, gingham checked overalls and the white blouse. Nelle made no effort to undress me, but frequently caressed me through the soft outfit. We went to bed with no sex.

Next morning, as we got dressed, I was surprised to see Nelle put on my new white blouse and pink gingham overalls. "How do I look?" She asked. " I hope you don’t mind that I’m borrowing your outfit." "You look cute, and I’m OK with it." I replied. I really didn’t mind. After all, turnabout was fair play. I’d borrowed enough of her clothes.

As we rode the train to work, I noticed that Nelle’s outfit was drawing some attention. It was just a little more feminine than usual. Sitting next to her, it was hard not to admire the way her body was outlined and expressed through the soft fabric of the outfit. She put her hand in my lap, and I tried to hold it, but she seemed more interested in moving it to my inner thigh. After wearing the same outfit the previous night, with no sex, I felt alarmingly aroused. If it had not been for my layers of underwear and tights, I would have been pretty embarrassed most of the day. When we returned home, I was immediately asked to put on one of my new outfits. I chose the houndstooth slacks and the blue blouse. Nelle then sat at the kitchen table while I prepared dinner.

"Whew, what a day. I could barely keep up with everything." said Nelle. "You’re not kidding, Miss Popularity." was my swift and spunky reply. At the office, it seemed that everyone wanted a piece of her, like she was a good luck charm, or a mascot, or something. I guessed that this was the effect of her – actually, "my" outfit – to draw attention. It’s not that people at work ignored Nelle before, but she was more left alone to do her thing.

On the other hand, work had been kind of slow for me. Madison said I seemed to lack the spark and drive that I used to have in figuring out peoples’ problems. He said he was thinking about a new role for me at the office. Not a good sign.

 

(to be continued)

 

 

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© 2001 by Sarah Deschand. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.