Tailoring

by Connor

  

"Sure, Melissa, take anything you want," Dad said. "Suzy had some beautiful clothes, and there's no point letting them go to waste. Whatever you can't use I'll take down to the Salvation Army." I've called him my Dad for a long time, but I know he's not my father. Mine died when I was three, and I can barely remember him. My Mom, Suzy, married Dad when I was six, seven years ago. But she was killed in an accident fifteen months ago, and now there's Dad; Jennifer, who is almost ten; and me, Chuck.

Melissa was Dad's sister, my "step-aunt." She was younger than Dad by something like five years. She's not too tall and has black hair like Dad—or he used to have. She lived on the other side of town. "That's awfully nice of you, Mike. Maybe Jennifer and Chuck will help me sort through them."

"Sure, they will. I've got to go if I'm to catch that plane to the convention. I'll see you Friday. You kids be good for your Aunt Mel. And thanks for taking care of them while I'm gone. I wish I didn't have to go away during their spring vacation." He kissed Jenny and me, hugged Aunt Mel, and went out the door.

I didn't see how I could help. Baseball gloves or computer games I knew something about, but not women's clothes. I hung around for a little while, then told Aunt Mel I was going to the school to play basketball. "But let me know if there's anything I can do, OK?"

Jenny and Aunt Melissa spent the next two days sorting clothes while I played basketball. Oh, they did cook a few meals and do some shopping, but most of the time it was looking at clothes, trying to decide whether Aunt Mel would keep them or send them to the Salvation Army. They did decide that Mom's jewelry would go to Jenny, but the clothes would be old and out of style before they'd fit Jenny.

Thursday noon it began to rain. Not a tropical downpour, but not a mist either. Just a steady soaker. Nobody plays basketball on a day like that, so I went home and started playing my PC games. It had been a while since I got a new one, so the games were beginning to bore me.

Aunt Mel knocked and came into the room. "Chuck, would you do me a favor? Slip off your shoes and see who's taller—you or me." It was a strange thing to ask, I thought. When we stood back to back in front of the mirror on Mom's closet, she said, "Just as I thought—we're almost exactly the same height. And the breadth of our shoulders is just about the same."

"I think your waist is smaller, Aunt Mel."

"But we're close enough for what I need. Would you do me a favor? A big, big favor?"

"Sure." I grinned at her. "You're my favorite aunt!"

"You'll definitely be my favorite nephew if you do this. Start by taking a shower; get as clean as you can, then come downstairs to the family room."

When the sweat and dirt from the morning's hoops were gone, I dressed and went down. Aunt Mel and Jenny were waiting; they had a pile of dresses and skirts on the sofa. The piano stool was in the middle of the room. "What do you want me to do?"

"I have a problem," Aunt Mel said. "Your mother was almost four inches taller than me, so I have to shorten any skirt or dress I want to wear. I can't measure them on myself, but you and I are about the same height. Would you mind trying them on so that Jenny and I can mark them? I'll shorten them later." She saw my reluctance, so she went on. "We'll have pizza for supper tonight if you'll do it for me. Please?" Jenny winked at me. She and I had played dress-up with Mom's clothes, so she knew I'd do it.

We hadn't had pizza for a long time—at least a week—and Aunt Mel is an awful cook, so I weakened. "OK, OK, I'll do it."

"Thanks, Chuck. We'll start with this skirt. You'll have to take your jeans off. Here, put this on."

The skirt really wouldn't zip. "I guess it won't work," I said. "Sorry."

"Mom had a waist nipper," Jenny offered. "Would that help?"

When I was laced into the nipper, the skirt was plenty big enough. Then Jenny pointed out that Mel usually wore heels with skirts, so she brought me a pair of Mom's. They were a little narrow, but they fit and I walked around the room, swishing the skirt, with my hand on my hip. Mel and Jenny howled with laughter. Finally I climbed up on the stool and Aunt Mel started to mark the skirt. But not before I'd taken a couple of bows.

The next skirt was quite form-fitting, and my boxers didn't work. Too many bumps and wrinkles. So I had to go into the bathroom and put on a pair of Mom's pink nylon panties. They did feel nice—almost too nice. Why don't boys' shorts feel this nice? I thought about changing back after that one was done, but the next couple of skirts were almost as tight, so I didn't bother.

When we'd finished the skirts and slacks, Mel and Jenny decided that my chest was too flat to measure the dresses right. They found one of Mom's pink bras and a pair of breast forms from her mastectomy. That was going too far, I thought, but I weakened. When I'd put them on, nothing would do but they had to put lipstick on me. By then I'd stopped fighting. No one was going to see me and it was great to be the center of attention.

Jenny looked me over and said, "That doesn't look like my brother. That looks like a girl with boobs and lipstick!!"

"You're right. What shall we call 'her?' How about 'Charley,' short for Charlene?" Aunt Mel asked. "How does that feel?"

"A good name for a model," Jenny said.

"Call me anything but late for dinner," I said.

By 6:30, about half the dresses were marked. My stomach started growling, so Aunt Mel took pity on me and called for the pizza. We didn't stop then, so we had half finished one of the dresses when the pizza was delivered.

"OK, Charlene, take everything off. We'll have to start over after we eat; that's a tricky skirt to mark."

It was a long red silky dress, and I liked the feel of it and the way it looked on me. "Why don't I leave it on? It's kind of a pain to take off, put on, take off."

"Well, will you wear an apron? And eat with a knife and fork? Not pick the pie up in your hand? I don't want to ruin that dress."

"OK; I do that sometimes even when I'm wearing jeans."

We sat down in the kitchen and attacked the pizza. Suddenly Jenny pointed at my Pepsi glass. "Look at that! Lipstick marks on the glass!"

Aunt Mel laughed. "Some women have no manners." So they started teaching me to be a woman. "Take smaller bites." "Keep your knees together." "Sip your drink." It was fun, really, though it was weird to be sitting there in a dress.

The front door opened and Dad called, "Hello! Anyone home?"

Jenny and I raced to greet him. She outran me because of the skirt and heels I had on, so he'd picked her up to kiss her when he saw me. "Who's this?"

"This is Charley, short for Charlene. She's helping us mark the hems in Mom's old dresses," Jenny said.

I hadn't kissed Dad in three or four years, but for some reason I thought I should this time. I kissed his cheek, leaving a tiny bit of lipstick, as he said, "Nice to meet you, Charley," and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. He had a strange look on his face, one I'd never seen before.

"Welcome home, Mike," Aunt Mel said. "We didn't expect you until tomorrow. Was your trip successful?"

"Very successful, thank you. And how are you all?" He sat with us as we finished our pizza and told him about the "modeling" I was doing.

I suddenly realized something. "Daddy, have you had supper? Can I fix you some bacon and eggs? There's not much pizza for four of us." That was the only dish I knew how to cook. But I hadn't called him "Daddy" in years! It was always "Dad."

"That would be very nice…Charlene." After a second he laughed, and I laughed too as I pulled the frying pan out of the drawer..

When everyone had finished, Aunt Mel said, "Let's finish the dress you have on, Charlene, and call it a night. It's 8:30, and we can do the rest tomorrow."

We finished the dress, and I took it off. Before I could lose the shoes, panties, and bra, Dad handed me one of Mom's housecoats. "Just put this on," he said. "It's almost your bedtime. You'd better help pick up all the sewing stuff that's around, too." We got everything neat and straight, and it wasn't quite 9:00, an hour before my bedtime, so I went down to watch TV. Dad came in after tucking in Jenny and sat down next to me. His arm was on the back of the sofa. I moved over closer to him. He put his arm around me. It felt good to be cuddled; I hadn't done that since Mom died.

As the movie ended, Dad whispered, "How does it feel to be a girl, Charlene?"

For just a second I wanted to jump up and scream, "I'm not a girl!," but I was too comfortable and the mood was too good. "Nice, when we're like this." Dad bent down and kissed me on the cheek. I turned toward him to say something and my lips met his. For just a second or two.

I was startled; I didn't know what to do, so I jumped up and ran for the bathroom. The person—not quite a boy—in the mirror had lipstick on. To make me look like a boy again, I scrubbed my lips but I couldn't get it off all the way. Was I trying to rub that kiss off? It just didn't feel right, but I almost wanted to try something like that again.

Dad always came in to kiss me goodnight. I was almost asleep when I heard him come into my bedroom. He sat on my bed and leaned over me. "Good night, Honey."

It was the first time he'd ever called me "Honey," a name he'd always used for Mom. "Good night, Daddy." Just as when we were on the couch, he gave me a gentle little kiss on the cheek. I turned my head to ask him if he was going to stay home the next day—and his next kiss fell right on my lips. This time I didn't try to run; where was I going to go?

"Will you be Charlene tomorrow?"

"I guess so. There are still some dresses to finish."

He leaned over and kissed me again. This time I held still so that he could kiss me on the lips, and he did. I was smiling as he left the room. It was so nice to be loved.

So that we could get to work as soon as Aunt Mel arrived, I put on the bra, breast forms, nipper, and panties after I showered in the morning. My oversized sweatshirt and a pair of jeans looked a little funny with my bumps and curves, but I could eat my Frosted Flakes just as well.

Dad watched as Aunt Mel did her tailoring. He and Jenny had quite a few comments as she worked. We finished the mountain of dresses in time for lunch. I ran up to my room and stripped off all the girly clothes—all but the panties. They felt nice, and I couldn't find any clean shorts.

Dad was very quiet during lunch. He'd been kidding and laughing, but that had all ended. After our tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, Aunt Mel asked Jenny to go home with her to help put all the new dresses and skirts away. I went to play hoops.

There weren't many guys for me to play with at the schoolyard. Six girls were playing on one half-court, four big guys were on another, and someone had bent the basket on the fourth. Bobby Mindel, one of the guys in my class, was there. He kept looking at me funny as we played HORSE. He finally said, "Chuck, are you wearing lipstick? Your lips are so red." I denied it, of course, but I knew that there was still some on my lips. "I won't tell anyone; you can tell me." I just gave him a look.

Jack Williams and Joe Peterson, two guys from school, came to the court, and Bobby and I let them get warmed up for a two-on-two game against us. Watching our opponents, I forgot for a moment that Bobby was famous for giving wedgies. Until he started to give me one. He stopped almost as soon as he started; "You're wearing panties!" He said it so loud that the other guys looked over at us.

"They aren't panties, they're men's nylon briefs. Very cool, and the latest style. Look at the ads in Playboy; you'll see lots of them."

"I don't believe you," Bob said. "Show me. What color are they?"

"None of your business." I grabbed the ball and dribbled toward the basket, right through Jack and Joe.

"Let's pants him!" There were three of them and only one of me, and I wasn't quick enough. They caught me and pulled me to the ground on my back. Jack sat on my legs, Joe knelt on my shoulders, and Bobby unbuckled my belt and opened my jeans. "They're pink! And they have lace on them!" They looked at each other and let go of me. "Let's leave the fairy alone!" They jumped up and ran away from me.

Everyone in the schoolyard—the big guys, the girls, even the caretaker who was trying to repair the basket—was looking at me. One of the girls picked up my ball and threw it at me. "Maybe you should be playing with us, sweety." They were all laughing.

Never have I got home so fast. I ran every step, the ball under my arm. All I wanted to do was get home and get rid of those damn panties. Dad opened the front door as I ran up the porch steps. "Who's chasing you?"

"Nobody," I gasped.

"Then take it easy." He put his arm around me and led me over to the sofa. "You're all out of breath; relax." He took the ball and tossed it into an easy chair. "What's wrong?" He sat next to me and put his arm around me.

"Mindel and Peterson and Williams pantsed me and found out I was wearing panties." Now I was sobbing. "What could be worse?"

"Believe me, there are lots of things that are worse, Charley. Why were you wearing panties?"

"I didn't change them after we finished the dresses. I had no clean shorts and they felt nice and I didn't think anyone would ever know." He was rubbing my back, and it felt so good. "And Bobby said I looked like I had lipstick on. What is going to happen when I go to school Monday? Everyone will be on my case." I turned and put my face in my arms. "I wish I was dead!"

"You wait here a minute. I'll be right back." He went out to the kitchen and I heard him on the phone with different people. I was beginning to relax when he returned. "All taken care of. I called their mothers and told them that you were wearing panties because all your underwear was in the wash and that was the only pair that fit." He ruffled my hair and pulled me closer. "I'm not sure that they all believed me, but I am sure that their sons won't be spreading it all over."

"Thanks, Dad. You are the greatest." I snuggled as close to him as I could. I whispered, "I love you, Daddy."

"And I love you, honey." He paused. "I really didn't realize how much you look like your mother until these last couple of days."

"You really loved her, didn't you, Daddy?"

"I did. In so many ways."

I thought about what I was going to say, then finally whispered it. "Daddy, would you like me to go up and put on one of Mom's dresses?"

  

  

  

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