From alt.sex.stories.tg Mon Feb 24 12:45:49 1997

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Date: Mon, 24 Feb 1997 06:31:50 -0500

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Barbara Elizabeth Jameson

PRESIDENT

BARBIE'S WRITINGS INC.

P.O. BOX 125

NIVERVILLE, NY 12130

TRANSVESTITE TALES VOLUME 1

I love being a girl...make me a woman

DONNA'S FIRST PUNISHMENT

When I was ten years old, I was quite a brat. I loved teasing

my sister and my cousins while mother would give them home

perms. One particular day, she was doing my cousin Jennifer's

hair and I was being my usual rotten self. I was constantly

teasing Jennifer for being a "silly old girl" and "getting all

prettied up" and I would not let up on her. Mother warned me

twice to stop or I might find myself on the receiving end. I

didn't listen. She rarely carried out her threats to punish me.

I continued my taunting until Jennifer started to cry. This

made mother quite angry and she grabbed me and stood me in front

of Jennifer demanding that I apologize to her or suffer the

consequences. I refused. Mother then turned to Jennifer, "What

do you think would be a good way to punish him?"

Jennifer had a big smile on her face to think that my mother

would give her a choice and a chance for revenge. "I wish he

had to have his hair curled while I watched and teased him about

getting all prettied up. He should see what it is like to be a

girl."

Mother agreed that would be a good and proper punishment. She

quickly finished putting the curlers in Jennifer's hair and then

focused her attention on me. Since we were at Jennifer's house

she had me follow Jennifer to her room where I was made to dress

in some of Jennifer's clothes and carry one of Jennifer's dolls

back to the kitchen where I had to endure having my hair placed

in curlers also. Jennifer was delighted with what she was doing

to me and teased me about wearing a dress and being "prettied

up" as a girl. She even asked mother if I was going to have to

play some girl's games with her. Mother said, "Of course she

is, you don't think a pretty little girl like her will be

playing silly boy's game do you? I won't be taking your

curlers out for a while so you two go play and Jennifer you get

to pick all the games."

Mother was just removing the curlers from Jennifer's hair when

her mother, Aunt Margaret came home. Mother quickly told her

what had taken place and explained about the punishment I was

receiving. She told her how I had to play hopscotch and have an

imaginary dinner party with Jennifer and her dolls and how I had

to play mommy. Aunt Margaret thought it was cute and a fitting

punishment. She then asked my mother if she and her "daughter"

would stay for dinner so Jennifer and I could play some more

together. I was shocked when mother said yes. She removed my

curlers and combed out my hair into a girlish style adding some

pink ribbon bows to my hair and then she took my Aunt's advice

and put some pink nail polish on my fingernails and put a light

coating of a pink lipstick on my lips. She then left me in Aunt

Margaret's care as she went to pick my sister up and bring her

back for dinner. Uncle Arthur had a good laugh when he saw the

way I was made to dress and heard about how I had spent my

afternoon. My sister squealed with delight that mother would

punish me this way. I was thankful when the day was over and I

was allowed to dress as a boy again. Fortunately, the teasing

stopped about a month later and noone gave it a second thought

until another incident when I was fifteen.

I was getting ready to go to school when my sister went

screaming to mother to complain about me. I had stolen her

diary and had placed all her bras in the freezer as a practical

joke. Mother did not appreciate what I had done and my refusal

to return the diary. She took advantage of me standing in the

kitchen without a shirt to declare her punishment and teach me a

visual lesson. She ordered me to see what it was like to have

to wear a frozen bra. It sent immediate shivers through my body

to have such extreme cold pressed against it. It was

embarrassing just to be made to wear a bra in the first place,

let alone one that had chilled in the freezer. My sister burst

out laughing as mother hooked the bra and adjusted the straps to

fit me. I blushed as mother said, "You look cute in a bra, son.

But you need a little something extra to fill it out."

I was then informed that as long as the diary remained

unreturned that I would have to wear the bra as punishment. I

was getting angry at this treatment and refused to give in to

them. I tried reaching behind my back to unhook the bra but

found I did not have the coordination to do so. Mother and

Sheila laughed at my struggle. I begged them for help but was

refused. I was told the punishment would stand and that I

needed to finish getting dressed for school. I protested

against being sent to school with a bra on under my shirt. My

protest fell on deaf ears. I continued my protest until mother

became angry and threatened to make me wear a dress to school as

well as the bra, or worse yet with the bra cups filled. I knew

her threat was real and decided to quit arguing with her. I

resigned myself to my fate and went to finish dressing. I wore

the loosest fitting heaviest shirt I could find to try to hide

the bra from view and hope that no one in school found out about

it. My only alternative was to return Sheila's diary, but I was

determined to have the last laugh and refused to submit.

I was constantly aware of the presence of the bra all through

my school classes, but fortunately, as far as I could detect, no

one else was aware of its presence. When I returned home mother

demanded I return my sister's diary. I continued to refuse.

Mother decided that since wearing a bra to school did not work

as effectively as she had hoped that a more drastic solution was

necessary. She offered me an ultimatum.

"I see no choice that since you seem to be defying me and are

not embarrassed enough by wearing a bra that I will take your

punishment one step further. Come with me to your sister's

room. I'm going to put you in her clothes until you surrender

her diary. Lets see how you like dressing all the way as a

girl. Remember, we are also going to your cousin Jennifer's

birthday party this evening. You'll be one of the girls. You

can be Mother's little helper and help me bake and decorate

Jennifer's cake. I'll give you one last chance for a reprieve.

Will you return Sheila's diary?"

My pride was at stake and no matter what embarrassment I

would have to endure, I was not going to give in. She was much

more physical than I was and it was no use to struggle as she

forced me to undress in my sister's room and dress in some of

Sheila's clothes. Along with the bra, I found myself wearing

panties, slip, pantyhose, a tight pink sweater blouse, a white

miniskirt, and pink high heeled pumps. Mother then decided to

add some makeup and jewelry and to use her curling iron on my

shoulder length hair. When she was done I was given a chance to

see the results in my sister's full length mirror. I could pass

as her twin. What a scary thought that was. I almost panicked

and surrendered the diary to escape being seen or having to

remain as a girl. The image in the mirror was too real for me.

It was mother who broke the moment and renewed my determination

not to surrender.

"Well, what do you think of my creation? You are very pretty

as a girl. I did not realize when I started your transformation

that the results would be so incredible. Are you ready to

return the diary or go to your cousin's party? We probably

should give you a lesson or two in how to walk in heels and sit

in a skirt. Come with me to the kitchen and I'll begin your

lessons in acting feminine. We have a cake to bake. Come along

now, Donna. Someone as pretty as you couldn't be going around

with a masculine name like Donald, so I'll use the feminine

derivative and call you Donna as long as you remain as a girl."

That was all it took to make me more determined to stick it

out in spite of the awkwardness. We walked to the kitchen, but

I would be better describing it as I stumbled to the kitchen.

Heels take a different kind of balance and control. Mother

laughed at my awkwardness and then told me to have a seat for

lesson number two. She then produced another full length mirror

and showed me how exposed my panties were by the way I was

sitting. She then had me stand, straighten my skirt and then

sit according to her instructions. She then showed me that by

doing it her way, my legs remained covered as much as a short

skirt could and my panties were not exposed. She then showed me

how to cross and uncross my legs to maintain my modesty and as

she put it, "be sexy to a man." I blushed once more from her

comment. She had me get the ingredients for the cake and mix

the batter and pour it into the pans. While the cake was

baking, she had me make the frosting. My next lesson came on

the subject of walking in heels. She had me walking around the

house until I could do so without stumbling. She taught me to

take short mincing steps and to shift my balance toward my toes.

I could feel the effects on my leg muscles as they stretched in

ways they were not accustomed to. It took me a while, but I

eventually could walk comfortably and somewhat gracefully in the

heels. I continued to practice walking while the cake cooled so

we could frost it. It was a two layer cake and mother had me

use the decorator to make flowers and write "Happy Birthday,

Jennifer" I had been given my first lesson in cooking. It was

now back to walking in heels.

"You are doing quite well, son, at becoming effeminate. How

long are you going to remain a girl? I think the way you are

taking to these lessons that this may not be much of a

punishment. You seem to be enjoying yourself. What am I going

to do with you?"

I turned every shade of red there was, but the worst of it was

that I realized there were parts of this punishment that I found

interesting. The softness of the clothes against my body was

sending very pleasant sensations through it. Still it was not

natural and I cringed at the thought of this continuing. Sheila

came home as I was still practicing to walk in the heels.

Mother told her to get dressed and to get me a purse so we could

go to the birthday party. I begged her to let me change back to

being a boy and even promised to surrender the diary when I

realized I would be exposed in public. She turned to me and

said I had many opportunities to avoid the situation but I had

now delayed too long and would spend the rest of the night as a

girl without a reprieve and that there was no time left to

change her mind and she also made me give her the diary

immediately with the threat of keeping me in dresses for the

entire weekend if I didn't. I gave in and surrendered. The

thought of remaining as a girl and further public exposure made

the decision to cooperate imperative.

Sheila giggled as she handed me a shoulder strapped purse and

a pink sweater. "Here you go, sis, you look very pretty. How

do you like wearing heels?"

"I don't. They are uncomfortable and difficult to walk in. I

wish mother would let me go back to being a boy."

" I hope she keeps you as a girl for a while. It seems to be

doing you well. You look so cute in a dress and heels. Mother,

Donna needs some breasts, her chest is too flat for a girl her

age. She is not the ten year old girl you had dressed up as

Jennifer's playmate. She is a teenage girl of fifteen. All

girls that age have developed some kind of breast. Mother have

you noticed she is so quiet and cooperative as a girl, can we

keep her in dresses for awhile?"

I broke down crying and all that did is get me laughed at some

more. They said it showed how feminine I was becoming as I

would even cry at the littlest thing. Mother looked at me after

Sheila mentioned about me needing breasts to fill my bra cups.

Mother agreed with her and proceeded to have me remove my dress

so she could take some foam rubber and fill them out. I then

redressed and was allowed to see myself in the mirror. I

thought I was scared before when I had seen how much I had

looked like a girl. It was even worse this time as I realized

what the addition of breasts did to my appearance. I went into

a state of shock. I was devastated by appearing as a girl.

It was time for the party. Everyone in the family was going

to be there. Jennifer was the teenage daughter of my Aunt

Margaret and Uncle Arthur. Along with Jennifer, Sheila and

myself, the other kids in the family were Karen and Linda. They

were the daughters of Aunt Sharon and Uncle Paul. Karen was

twenty and Linda was twenty-two. I was the only boy and I was

fifteen. Sheila was sixteen. Jennifer was celebrating her

fourteenth birthday. Everyone had a good laugh at my

predicament. All the adults told mother that her form of

punishment seemed to be very effective as I seemed rather

contrite and well behaved as a girl. The other girls took

delight in having me be one of them. The party was also to

include some of Jennifer's friends from school. Amongst them

were Lois, Susan, Mary, Ellen, Elaine, Carl, and Richard. They

all enjoyed my plight. One of the games we played was chosen

deliberately to embarrass me. It was spin the bottle. The two

boys got to spin the bottle and kiss whichever girl it pointed

to. I had to sit in as one of the girls. I was lucky that it

never pointed to me.

I did have a moment to deal with when some records were put on

and I had to dance a slow dance with Carl as entertainment

during a game of truth or dare. . My sister made sure to have

her camera ready for it

The party was actually kind of fun until near the end when I

was forced by the adults to help clean up as one of the girls.

Jennifer and her friends were excused so that left Sheila and I

to do all the work. Linda and Karen decided to have a little

fun by making me wear a frilly apron and talking to me as if I

were a maid. They had me bring them soda and serve our parents

coffee. This brought a great deal of laughter from everyone,

especially when I curtseyed as I took away the tray. I finished

cleaning the house with Sheila and was then informed that since

we had done such a good job, we were being loaned out to Aunt

Sharon and Uncle Paul for the night and next two days to help

clean his lake house and get it ready for the summer. I

complained about having to remain as a girl but was quickly

informed that since it appeared that keeping me in dresses

seemed to be a very effective form of punishment that I would

spend the weekend as a girl in order to impress on me what would

lie ahead if I continued getting out of hand as a boy with my

practical jokes and bad manners. I asked what I was going to do

for clothes as we did not pack anything before we left home. I

was informed that Linda and Karen had plenty of clothes for me

to borrow from and since I appeared to be about the same size

their clothes should fit quite well and Linda said she had a

bikini I could wear to the beach.

There was a lot of work to do, but with everyone pitching in

it only took a few hours to get the place cleaned up from the

winter's dust. Saturday afternoon was spent with Linda, Karen,

Sheila, and I sun bathing on the shore. I wore Linda's bikini

and since the foam rubber looked out of place Aunt Sharon went

to a trunk in the attic and took out a box and handed it to me.

She said she had bought what was in it for Karen when she was

thirteen and complained about not having any breasts while Linda

had sprouted quite well. I opened the box to find a lifelike

pair of gel-filled breast forms. Aunt Sharon found some special

adhesive for them which was waterproof and secured them to my

body. I could feel their weight and movement with every step I

took or any motion I made for that matter. I felt even more

embarrassed than ever before. The girls all giggled as I came

out of the house in my bikini with full breasts. Uncle Paul

whistled at me and said, " You really fill out that bikini,

Donna! I love seeing a girl with big tits! "

My face was as deep a shade of red as it could be. I was

praying this weekend would come to an end. As I said we spent

the afternoon down on the shore soaking in the sun. That

evening I had to go with the other girls to a movie. Mother

came and picked us up on Sunday and drove us home. She forgot

to get the special adhesive remover from Aunt Sharon for the

breasts that I had been given. The next day instead of dressing

as a boy and returning to school, mother had to take me to Aunt

Sharon's and get the remover. I had to accompany her wearing a

bra under my boys clothing as she refused to allow me to go

braless while having such large breasts. Aunt Sharon made her

promise to keep the breast forms in case I ever needed to be

punished again. Mother thanked her and then we drove home and I

became a boy again.

This was my first adventure as a girl but certainly not my

last. It became a tradition on Halloween for me to be dressed

as a female. My costumes have ranged from Indian Squaw to

Wonder woman to witch to nurse to belly dancer. This year I was

Cleopatra. Some of the Halloween parties had memorable moments

that I'll write about at another time along with my adventures

as a bride's maid.

--Donna MarieHanson