By babyjennieJuly 14, in Story and Art Forum.

This story is adapted from a short story callded ‘Candie,’ author unknown, and posted in a few places, so it may look familiar.

But every time I re-read it, I keep compulsively editing it. So here’s the latest version.

20.02.2020 – I knew she wanted to further embarrass me by making me parade around dressed as a young girl. It would be very embarrassing and self- humiliation to say the least. Mystic Topaz is white topaz with a patented coating creating this magnificent iridescence. As I lay there alone in the semi-darkness, I felt the familiar erotic feeling wash over me. Value Points: very rare doll with captivating wistful expression, finest bisque and modeling, original body and body finish.

When I was thirteen years old, my mother decided that rather than spending my summer vacation languishing at home in the city, I should instead stay with my mother’s divorced younger sister.

However, I didn’t like this idea one bit! I wanted to spend the summer with my friends in Sydney. But my mother considered most of my bigger tougher peers a bad influence, and thought that I would be much better off in the quiet countryside.

To make matters worse, several weeks prior to the holidays I had been caught along with some friends who were throwing rocks at our school’s windows.

Many windows were broken, and even though I was only an innocent observer, I still ended up in a lot of trouble. As a result I had no further say in the Willowtree matter, and shortly after the school year finished my mother packed me into the car and drove me to stay with my Aunt Meg.

I was quietly apprehensive during the long six-hour trip.

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I didn’t really remember much about my Aunt or her daughters, my older cousins. I knew April was fourteen, and Bonnie had recently turned sixteen, and I assumed I would be in for an endless boring summer.

When we arrived, my mother immediately complained to my Aunty about my recent misbehaviour.

She informed her of the rock-throwing incident, and Aunty Meg concluded by suggesting I really hadn’t been disciplined firmly enough. I felt Mum was exaggerating.

Except for that one recent incident, I had never been involved in any kind of real trouble. Furthermore I was very small for my age, and usually meek, mild and timid, and I cried easily.

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I was quite afraid of most authority figures, and usually did as I was told. Nevertheless my mother asked my Aunt to discipline me as she saw fit!

With a tight smile, Aunt Meg replied that she would be pleased help her sister in this matter. Then Aunt Meg sternly gazed down at me and ran her fingers through my rather unkempt, shoulder-length blonde hair.

With a disparaging shake of her head, Auntie snidely informed me that in her town, decent young boys normally sported neat crew-cuts.

I begged my mother and Aunt Meg not to make me cut my hair, as long hair was the current style amongst my city peers and myself, all budding fans of hard-rock music.

My mother conceded that I could leave my hair long on one condition!

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If I promised to behave and do everything Aunt Meg told me! Of course I instantly and insincerely promised I would. The next morning after breakfast, my mother climbed in our car and left for home, abandoning me to the tiny town of Willowtree.

Shortly after her departure Aunt Meg made several disparaging comments about the black punk-rock tee-shirt I was wearing over my blue denim shorts.

She ordered me to take it off, as it didn’t look nice for a sweet little boy to wear such terrible things. I cheekily reminded her that I was thirteen years old, and not a sweet little boy.

Although I realised most people treated me as if I were far younger, because I was tiny for my age, had a baby-face, and a high-pitched little-girl voice that I could hardly wait to change.

She yanked the offending shirt from my body over my grumbled protests and spirited it away. When she returned she grabbed me by one ear and hauled me squealing into the bathroom, insisting that if I was going to wear my beautiful blonde hair long like a girl, it at least had to be shining clean and brushed prettily at all times.

I whimpered that I had washed it only last week, but she spitefully retorted that all her girls must wash their hair every second day! She forcefully bent me over the bathroom sink and proceeded to soak my head with warm water.

Then she roughly shampooed my hair with her floral scented shampoo. She rinsed, conditioned, and rinsed again, then partly blow-dried my hair, and then made me sit down.

She vigorously brushed it dry, making me wince and whimper with every cruel stroke. Finally she combed it out and despite my protests, trimmed the ends and the front with her good sharp scissors.

When I saw my reflection I complained bitterly that boys didn’t wear it that way, but she icily replied that my beautiful long hair was far too long for a boy, and from now on that’s how I had to wear it – just like a girl!

She insisted I must brush and comb it the same way every morning, and she would check daily to see that her instructions had been followed to the letter.

With my fringe cut into bangs and my hair parted neatly in the middle, I knew I looked even more feminine than usual.

It covered my shorts completely so that it almost looked like I was wearing a dress! I should mention Aunt Meg was much taller than Mummy, and quite attractive with a great figure.

She often wore tight jeans or short skirts provocatively displaying her long tanned legs. With her full sensuous lips painted luscious red and her dark smoky eye make-up, I thought she always looked very sexy.

Over the next few days I came to realize that she was also very strict, and somewhat obsessed with cleanliness, manners and dress.

Her blonde daughters were similarly tall, buxom young women, and beautiful in an arrogant sort of way. They obviously knew they were attractive, and treated most boys like amusing playthings.

I had always been interested in women’s clothing as far back as I could remember, and by the time I was eleven, I had started secretly dressing up in my mother and my big sister’s panties, slips, and slinky nightgowns, whenever I found the chance to play alone at home.

Their undies were much too big on me of course, but I didn’t care. They looked and felt so pretty! Aunt Meg stored her washer and dryer in the basement, and on my first morning there I prowled around unseen.

I was fascinated by the delicate assortment of sexy panties, bras, slips, and lacy suspender-belts I spied drying on the line that sunny morning. When I blushed crimson and didn’t respond, she shocked me by leaning down and grabbing my bulging crotch with her free hand.

I tried to twist and back away, but she had already captured the stiffie tenting out the front of my baggy blue shorts. She snorted with contempt when I squealed in alarm and wrenched away from her painful grip, warning me that if she caught me touching their frillies again, she would make me wear everything I saw hanging up!

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I was so embarrassed at being caught in the act, I covered the bulging front of my jeans shorts with both hands and started stammering furiously.

Aunt Meg observed my embarrassed tell-tale behaviour, and laughed cruelly as I stood there cowering, aroused yet humiliated.

I did the best that I could, tied up the way I was. Clarissa stared, open-mouthed, out the parlor window, then she snatched up her drowsy little boy and followed the maid out the big front door. Powder blue high leg lace insert cupped body 31 The thought was very stimulating, though. About three o’clock that afternoon, the strings and keys were frozen and we were all set to begin.

With my cheeks burning and my hands still vainly trying to conceal my swollen erection, I turned and ran around the side of the house, her threats and mocking laughter filling the air behind me.

Over lunch that afternoon she cruelly informed her daughters of what had happened. The girls reproached me and then laughed their heads off as my cheeks burned red.

They loudly discussed what a disgusting perverted little boy I was, as I mutely cringed in shame. They agreed with their mother that I should be dressed in their panties and dresses if they caught me fondling their frillies again.

I felt so embarrassed, my whole body turned hot and cold! But for the rest of the day I couldn’t drive the incident from my mind. Despite the fact that I was a teenager and they all looked younger than ten, during that first afternoon I attempted to join in their games.

They were all much bigger and brawnier than me, and they didn’t like me right from the start.

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A few of them actually thought that I was a girl simply trying to act like a tough tomboy, and they wanted to bet me and their friends that I was really a girl!

I kept insisting that I was a boy, but almost everyone seemed convinced that I was a tomboy.

At dinner that night I grumbled to my aunt about what had happened, adding that the boys in her town were stupid, and complained again that I wanted to return to Sydney.

To my chagrin, my aunt acted as if the teasing was my fault!

She said that the nice local boys probably wouldn’t let me play with them because they realised I was obviously a juvenile delinquent who had no manners, and I hadn’t yet learned how play well with other boys.

Aunt Meg and my cousins started chortling at my subdued shame-faced reaction. My Aunt sensed how embarrassed and yet how titillated I was by her threats, and seemed delighted by my humiliated red-cheeked silence.

Dumbfounded, I started trembling and sweating as her girls laughed and jeered at me. Although she did ask Bonnie to keep an eye on me when she went shopping that morning.

To this hook, I had attached an adjustable leather strap that hung down to the top of my head. Powder blue high leg lace insert cupped body 31 The cutouts were a little smaller that the size of my attributes, and the latex squeezed the base of my tits, causing them stand out and the nipples to harden.

I was both relieved – yet oddly disappointed – when she returned at lunchtime with four new t-shirts for me that actually fitted.

They were completely plain, but the colours! They were all pastels; lemon, powder-blue, lavender, and pale green.

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I complained about the sissy colours of course, but my Aunt replied that she could have bought a pink and an apricot one instead, and asked would I prefer those colours?

That shut me up pretty quickly and I put on the green top, as it seemed the least offensive. The rest of the day passed quietly enough until dinnertime, when I accidentally spilled some grape juice on my new t-shirt and down my pants.

My Aunt was furious, and made me immediately strip to my briefs in front of my giggling cousins while she frantically tried to scrub out the stain.

She loudly scolded me all the while, informing me that if my new green top was ruined, she was going to spank my naughty bottom and then put me in a dress!

I was mortified, yet secretly thrilled by the threat! I didn’t know what to say.

In a way I wished that the stain wouldn’t come out, and she would make good her threat! Then Bonnie snickered quietly and whispered to me about the time a few months ago, when Aunt Meg punished another younger boy cousin who had ruined his good clothes by playing football in them.

She said that Aunt Meg had dressed him completely as a girl, and made him stand on the front porch for the rest of the afternoon while everyone passing by made fun of him.

Bonnie giggled snidely as she promised I would be next! I found this idea both scary and exciting!

However a short time later, my Aunt Meg grimly announced that she had managed to scrub out the stain, and my clothes weren’t ruined after all.

I actually felt rather let down. Lying awake in bed that second night, I somehow dreamt up the idea that perhaps I could trick my aunt into dressing me as a girl, by appealing to her hatred of ruined clothes and filth.

I thought that if I snuck off the next day and really messed up my clothes in a major way, she might make good her repeated threats to dress me like a sissy girl.

I shivered with a combination of terror and excitement at my bold plan.