Peter And Pamela free porn video

Peter's happy world is turned up side down, when first his mother finds out that his father is having affairs and is thrown out of the house, and then when his elder sister is killed in a road accident. Peter's mother then turns to Peter for comfort and looks to him to fill his dead sister's place. Peter & Pamela By Nina Henderson. All of the usual copyright rules apply, but this story may be posted freely on any site that does not require a fee for accessing it. Also, the usual rules about legal restrictions on accessing stories like this apply according to where you are from. Introduction What happened was not planned or even part of my sub-conscious, until circumstances beyond my control came into play. This is fundamentally a true story, with only some minor details that may or may not be accurate, as time has erased some of the finer details of the events. The following narrative is about my first encounter with dressing as a woman and entering the hither to, forbidden and mysterious female world. To this day I marvel at my young courage and daring, amazed at how far the simple act of switching clothes can so change your personality. This account takes place in 1990 when I was seventeen and whose main interests were very normal; studying, football, computer games and sports. Feminine apparel held absolutely no interest for me, except when I gloated over copies of Playboy or Mayfair magazines, enjoying the photos of scantly clad women in provocative underwear. At this time I was about 5' 5" and lean from many hours spent in the pool. I was good at swimming, and had won many prizes as part of our school freestyle and medley 4 x 100 m relay team. To keep that competitive edge, I kept my head very closely cropped which my Mother hated, as it made me look mean. It was an image I was keen to maintain, with the result that I was left alone by many of my fellow students, which suited me fine. 1. The cold finger of autumn. Our family lived in a comfortable detached suburban house, with a small, but compact garden that had sufficient trees and trimmed bushes, which give us some privacy from the neighbours on either side. My father was a senior manager for an investment firm in the city and from Monday to Friday, he rose early and returned late. Sometimes on the weekends he was distracted and stressed by his work and as such he was prone to bursts of bad temper. He was always preoccupied with work, which made him seem distant and uncaring. When he was in a foul mood it was best to keep a low profile and stay out of the way. Mum, worked part time at the local Estate Agents, looking after the accounts. She had a very sunny personality that kept us all in good spirits and seemed to fill the house with sunlight, even on the darkest of dark days. Mum was a striking looking woman who knew how to dress with classic style. She was proud of her still shapely body, even though it now needed that little extra maintenance. My elder sister Pamela was a very pretty girl having inherited our mother's good looks, with longish thick auburn hair; she had a very good figure and she knew it. Pamela was in her first year at University and now we only saw her during semester breaks. Like Mum, she had a very lively personality and easygoing manner. She was very popular wherever she went. Pamela was my best friend and I could talk to her about absolutely anything. For a girl she was pretty cool. However, just shortly after turning seventeen in May, our family life turned upside down. First Mum discovered that Dad was having an affair with one of his younger female colleges and that she was one in a string of many. Mum asked him to move out, which he did with bad tempered grace. After some bitter wrangling, my father agreed to a non- contested divorce and Mum got the house without a fight and he was suddenly out of our lives. Mum's sunny personality was now tempered with dark mood swings and during these times, she made plane her feelings of betrayal and disgust at men's behaviour in general. It made me feel wretched and I tried to find ways to consol her, trying to show her that not all things masculine were bad! Then in early August when the nights had started to draw in, my sister was killed in a motorbike accident, she had been riding with her new boyfriend. This was the final blow for my mother, she broke down completely. After my sister's funeral, she spent most of her time in bed. Mum seemed inconsolable. She blamed my Dad and all men for this terrible tragedy. As the weeks passed, she spent more and more time in moody, withdrawn silences and when she was persuaded to leave her bed, she would sit by the large living room window that looked out onto our small garden. She had lost all zest for life and appeared to have abandoned the will to live and shunned the outside world, refusing to see visitors, including my Aunts. She seldom smiled, looking forlorn, bewildered and deeply distressed. Mum spent hours in my sister's room looking through Pamela's photo albums, feeling her clothes and soft toys. No one was allowed into Pamela's room and the door was kept locked at all times. For the first few weeks I was devastated with the loss of my sister and best friend. I was very close to her and while we were going our own youthful ways, we remained devoted. Her death felt like I had lost part of me. She had left this deep emptiness. At seventeen, sorrow soon gives way to youthful optimism and a month after she was berried; I was more or less back to my normal routine of studying and playing sports. However I was now spending all my free time with my mother. In addition, I had taken over the responsibility for running the household, doing all the chores and shopping. While my friends were very supportive in the early weeks of our bereavement; they soon got fed up with me being at home all the time and soon they started to bother me about not hanging out with them any longer. However after a while they gave up when I paid little attention to them. This is when my strange odyssey really begins. 2. Yorkshire terrier About six weeks after my sister's funeral. I arrived home early from school, rather than staying on to play sports (Wednesday afternoons were normally set aside for sports or outdoor activities). The house was quiet, and I assumed Mum was up in her room resting. Reaching the top of the stares, while heading for my room, I heard Mum talking to someone. This was strange, as my mother had stopped seeing people. I followed the sound of her voice to my sister's room. Carefully peering round the door I saw my mother sitting on my sister's bed talking, almost gossiping to an empty room, to an imaginary person, to my sister... I stood listening, feeling guilty at spying on her. She was discussing a wide range of topics, from what was happening on the news, to the latest TV soap scandals. After some minutes I slipped back down the hallway, slightly disturbed by what I had seen, not quite sure what was going on. Dumping my bag in my room, I returned to stand just outside Pamela's door, listening. Mum was now talking about me and I strained to hear what she had to say, but she was now mumbling in a low voice. Abruptly she started talking angrily about how treacherous men all were, about how Dad had hurt her deeply, how she felt soiled, used and humiliated! I was amazed at the outpouring of feelings. Shocked by what I had heard, I backing away from the door, sensing that I had violated a confidence between my mother and dead sister. Turning to leave a floorboard creaked. There was a sudden silence. I moved swiftly to the head of the stares. "Whose there? Is that you Peter?" "Yes Mum, I'm back!" "I'm in your sister's room, come here and join me darling." She was still sitting on the bed as I had seen her earlier. I greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek. . I noticed that the counterpane of Pamela's bed was covered with photos of my dead sister. "I do so terribly miss you sister." Mum said with a wistful sigh, while looking down at the photos, fingering a small lacy doll. "We all do Mum." "Come here Peter." She opened her arms and pulled me in for a hug and held me tightly, holding me there for a moment. When she at last released me, she wiped tears from her face. She then regarded me for some time. Nether of us spoke. "You do look a lot like your sister, you know?" "Yes Mum, you remember how Aunt Mo always teased us about being twins!" My mother regarded me intently and gave me a small intimate smile. "You're a good son Peter, thank you for all your support, never complaining...I don't think I could have got through the last couple of weeks without you" She paused and squeezed my arm to emphasise her point. "Don't ever think that I don't love you every bit as much, as I loved Pamela..." "I know that Mum, I'll go and make some tea?" Suddenly embarrassed by her show of emotions. "Yes... Yes that would be nice idea. I'll be down in a moment." I though little more about this encounter, putting it down to her grieving and hoped that my mum would soon pull round and our world would get back to some semblance of normality. The following Tuesday, I returned home from school at the usual time. Calling out as I entered the house to let Mum know that I was back; racing up the stares to my room, where I dump my school bag and change out of school uniform into a lose tee shirt and a pair of jeans. Mum called from my sister's room, asking me to join her there. She was sitting on the bed, leafing through Pamela's photos, old letters and schoolbooks. "Peter, do you love me, do you really love and trust me?" "Yes Mum, you know that..." 'Would you do anything for me?" She took my face in her hands, looking directly into my eyes. "Yes, I think so?" I was now a little anxious, what was she talking about? What was she going to ask me to do? "Can I put this on you?" Releasing my face she turned and picked up something. Mum held up an auburn wig that looked like a small Yorkie terrier, it was cut in a short style (I later learned it was called a Bob or Page Boy). I starred at the hairy thing in her hand for a moment, unable to speak, amazed by the strange request. "Mum...!" Was all I could say at first! "Mum this is crazy...! This is...!" I trailed off as large tears started to fill her eyes. "OK Mum, if you really want me to try this thing on, go ahead?" I surrendered feeling stupid. Mum looked up and with tears in her eyes as she fitted the wig snugly on my head, tugging and making small adjustments. It felt strange against my nearly balled scalp, with wisps of stray hair tickled my cheek. She continued brushing it and fixing the hair in place until at last she was happy with the result. Then to my total surprise and consternation she applied a little pale pink lipstick. "My goodness, oh my goodness, you look so like your sister, it is true, go...look in the mirror...and tell me if it isn't so?" Confused and dazed by the strangeness of my Mum's actions, I gazed into the mirror. What I saw stunned me and made me deeply uneasy. The reflection looking back with a quizzical gaze was Pamela! I pulled the wig off, shaken by what I had glimpsed. I felt I had in someway transgressed a line of decency, not by wearing a girly wig; that did not bother me so much, but that I had somehow violated my dead sister's memory. "Peter, what's the matter darling, what's wrong?" My mum asked, slightly startled by my violent removal of the wig. "Mum, this is not right, I... I feel like I'm insulting her memory... It doesn't feel right...please Mum?" I hurriedly left the room heading for the bathroom so as to wash my face and remove the lipstick and its strange, but not unpleasant taste. That evening my mother stayed in her room and did not touch any of the food or tea I brought her. Every time I entered the room, she would look at me with a sullen, disappointed gaze. I felt very unhappy and tried to think of a way out of this dilemma. I desperately wanted to see my mother happy, but at the same time I felt she was asking too much of me at this time. For the remainder of the week there was an uneasy tension between us. On Saturday morning, instead of going to Swimming practice, I rode my bike over to my favourite Aunt's place. I needed badly to talk with someone about what had happened and try to find a solution to the current situation. Aunt Mo was the middle sister of the three girls (my mother being the youngest) and like my mother; she was a very jolly, happy person, who was always busy. Our friendship was such that I could discuss almost anything with her, without fear or embarrassment. She was that kind of person. Mo had tried to help my mother out of her current dark emotional state, but with little success. To some extent, she had given up trying, believing that time was ultimately the best medicine at this stage. She lived on her own, her husband had run off when they were still young and Mo had never bothered much with men thereafter. She seemed quite happy with her lot. Mo ran a small art restoration business from which she made a modest living and she lived in a small old cottage at the edge of town, which had wonderful unspoilt views of the surrounding rolling countryside. The cottage was low beamed and was very warm and cosy and I loved the place, with its bohemian atmosphere. Mo loved music and the cottage was always full with the sound of classical works or many styles of jazz. When I had asked Mum why Aunt Mo never seemed to have any boyfriends, Mum had murmured that Aunt Mo preferred women! After we had gone through the usual greetings, I told her about the wig incident and what had happened. "What am I going to do Mo? She's just gone and put up more barriers...!" "You know how rough things are for your mother at this time. She needs reassurance... When your father ran off like that, it killed her self- confidence, and then your sister... She has no one to turn too now..." "She's got me!" I blurted out. "Yes off course, she knows you love her, but you're not a daughter, a woman who she can confide in, who can help her rebuild her faith in life." Mo looked me in the eyes "Even you're Aunt Anna and me are unable to fill the place of a daughter. She needs that bond that only a mother and daughters have and just when she needed a daughter most, Pamela was taken." Mo paused, considering her words carefully. "So now your mother has two crushing burdens to live with, her daughter's death and the humiliation of her husband's infidelity and betrayal." We sat in silence for a moment, regarding each other. "So what are you tell me?" "As far as I am aware, what your mother is asking you to do is not breaking any moral or spiritual laws! She is just requesting that you to play-act a little for her, to briefly fill that gap of a daughter. A little light in her darkness" "So?" I asked a little shyly, not totally convinced. "Peter. No one is going to know about this game are they? If that is what is bothering you! Come on, it's not as if she is asking to do something bad and if it makes her happy, your are doing what a good son should do, helping his grief stricken mother!" Again she looked me squarely in the eye. "And anything we can do to get her back on her feet, we should try, yes?" "I suppose you are right..." I said in a small voice. I understood what she had said and while not completely convinced, I realised the real issue was my own embarrassment and humiliation at been made to look like a girl! "I know I'm right, just play along with her, go as far as she wants, after all its in private, no one will ever know, other than you and her..." She gave me a conspiratorial winked. "And me off course... Remember that when you think the time is right; extract something from her in exchange." "What do you mean?" I asked a little confused. "Well, get her to agree to go shopping, to go out, help in the garden, go back to work... anything that will bring her out of her shell, help lessen the burden of grief." On the way home, I thought a hard about what my Aunt had said. I was bewildered and somewhat scared of the responsibility she now put on my shoulders. What had she meant by "going as far as Mum wanted?" With these thoughts rolling around my head, I peddled homeward resolved to be brave and do the right thing and prove to Mum that I was a good and loving son, even if it meant looking like a girl for her. While I could not fill the place of my sister, I would nevertheless do my best and do whatever it took to make Mum happy again, what ever it took... It was early evening when I got home. As usual Mum was up in her room in bed, the television blaring out some nonsense soap. She barely registered my presence when I offered to make some tea; she waved me away with a disinterested flick of her hand. On my way back down stares, I noticed that the door to Pam's room was open. Suddenly I was filled with an unexplained mixture of dread and exhilaration, I tip toed into my sister's room. The bedcover was still strewn with photos, papers and in the middle, looking like a curled up Yorkshire terrier was the wig. Gingerly I reached out and touched it, almost as if fearing it would bit. As I picked it up, I was surprised at how soft the hair felt in my fingers, while flipping the wig over trying to figure out how it fitted. What the hell, if it made my Mum happy, I could live with a few hours of embarrassment on my side. And that was it, As Aunt Mo had pointed out, it was after all just a conflict between my male pride and embarrassment at being made to look feminine and not some primeval fear of my sister's ghost or spirit. Taking a deep breath I pulled the wig on, moving it around my head several time, until it was more or less as in the correct position. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I was again struck by how closely I resembled my dead sister. Then with shaking hands, I tried to apply the pink lipstick. I was not very successful in putting the lipstick on. The final result was a little lopsided and smudged at the edges of my mouth. I looked a little clownish. It would have to do! After all I was a boy... Nervously, I left the privacy of my sister's room and slipped past my mother's open door and went down to the kitchen to make some tea for her. At first, wearing a wig was a funny sensation, lose hair tickled my nose and every time I tried to brush it away, other hairs would find some other spot on my face to annoy. The lipstick felt peculiar and I could taste the strange oils used in its composition. Every time I passed a mirror or reflection in a window, I had a fleeting glance of a girl, causing me to stop time and again and stare at the young woman, who looked intently back at me. It was Pam gazing back from the grave. It made me shudder and uneasy. "Well dear what do we have here?" Mum said looking up at me, at first with a slight start. "This is a nice surprise" She sat up and gave me a warm smile, as she accepted the tray with tea and biscuits on it. It was the first real smile I had seen in a long while. I was extremely pleased to see the affection in her eyes and the sudden change. I felt very stupid and was more than a little uncomfortable around my mother while wearing the wig. "Turn the telly off dear and let's hear what happened to day?" So I told her about my visit to Aunt Mo's (without divulging the real reason for my visit). She listened to what I had to say, while taking a few sips of tea. "We really will have to do something about your lipstick dear!" She said when I finished, "Go and get me some tissues, and bring me the lipstick, I'll have to show you how to do it properly". Mum and I, then spent most of the evening playing with lipsticks and lip liner while she taught me to use them properly. It was all so strange and at first awkward. However as the evening wore on, I started to accept what she wanted and learned quickly. In spite of my initial reticence, I started to enjoy the experience; it was so alien to anything I had done in the past. From this moment on, for the next two weeks, whenever at home, I would don the wig and apply lipstick. Mum seemed so happy with my willingness to play her game and give this concession to my masculinity. This was going to be easier than I thought! No sweat! If this was all that was required to help her, then it was going to be plain sailing... I quickly got over the initial shyness about looking a little like a girl when wearing the wig and lipstick. Occasionally when I looked in the mirror with the almost feminine reflection looked back at me. I would start to wonder what I would look like dressed as a girl, and I wondered what it would feel like. These thoughts caused my 'pecker' to stiffen and demand attention. This was quite a startling revelation. 3. Much ado about nothing! A number of weeks latter on a Sunday's morning, I awoke late, lying in bed enjoying the luxury of not having to hurry. My thoughts wandered, however they slowly turned to the events of the recent weeks, as I tried to understand what had been happening, it was all so strange and surreal. My "pecker" started to rise as I remembered the girly reflection in the mirror and he began to demanded attention. So far this little game had been quite fun, especially as my mother had really perked up. As I idly lay there fingering my 'Pecker', I became aware of the aroma of breakfast being cooked. Surprised, I jumped out of bed throwing on a dressing gown and headed down stares to see what was happening, following the delicious smell of cooking bacon and eggs. "Good morning Peter, I was just about to wake you, I thought a good breakfast would do us both some good on a wet grey day like today, what do you think?" I could hardly speak, I was so astonished. This was the first time Mum had done any cooking sine Pamela had died. "What's the matter, cat got your tong?" "Breakfast would be great Mum." I said excitedly. By the time we sat down to eat, it was more like a Brunch, than Breakfast. "Peter dear; have you anything planned for today?" Mum asked halfway through the meal. "No, not really Mum, maybe I'll just watch some TV or if the weather improves go out on my bike for a bit and see what the lads are up too...why?" "Nothing love, nothing." When we had finished eating Mum left me to clean up, saying that she needed to rest a little. I was so delighted to see her up an about and eating a proper meal, I happily set to work cleaning away the debris of breakfast. Was this change in her, a result of me wearing a stupid wig and putting some lipstick on? Once the kitchen was clean, I settled down to watch some morning TV, but after awhile, finding nothing of interest, I decided to get a shower. Pamela and I had shared a small compact bathroom that had a shower stall instead of a bath, while Mum's room had a large en-suite bathroom, with a really nice big bath. Pamela had used it a lot when home, putting candles around the tub and playing her music, spending what seemed like hours soaking. I was in high spirits after a good breakfast and I really did not pay much attention to where or what my Mum was up to. I got into the shower relaxed, enjoying the loud music blaring from the radio. The hot water felt great and when finished I towelled down, feeling really invigorated. Back in my room as I was about to get dressed when Mum popped her heard round the door. "Can you come here a moment Peter?" "What?" Not able to hear much over the radio at full volume. "Turn the music down!" Mum made hand signals, as if she was turning the volume control. Reluctantly I did as she asked. It was one of my favourite tracks by 'Tears for Fears'. She beckoned me to follow her. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I followed her into my sister's room. What I saw momentarily startled me. She had laid out my sister's school uniform and some other garments on the now tidy bed. "What's going on Mum?" I asked more than a little bewildered. "Now, please dear, just humour me a little, this will be fun." She appealed. "Not if it involves dressing as Pamela..." I said a little too quickly and harshly. Mum stood looking at me with pleading eyes, tears started to trickle down her cheeks. Hurriedly I turned away and fled to the safety of my room, closing the door behind me. I was feeling terrible and I was scared. How could she ask me to do this? The idea of wearing my sister's clothes was so terribly humiliating! What was I to do? It was one thing to put a stupid wig on and playing with lipstick, but quite a different issue to dress as a girl, to dress as Pamela? It was too appalling to contemplate. Or was it? Somewhere in the recesses of my mind there was an altogether different influence at work. It was a powerful curiosity to see what I would look like dressed as a girl, to see what it would feel like... Fleeting flashes of something glimpsed and just touched danced at the fringes of my thoughts... My 'pecker' was getting very excited about the prospect of the experiment. There had been a considerable transformation in Mum's mental state over the last few weeks; could I really have been responsible for such a positive change in her just by wearing a stupid wig? What would happen if I refused to do as she asked? Would she slip back into the dark folds of grief, because I did not have the courage to put a few clothes on? What had Aunt Mo said about doing anything to help her! What did I have to lose...? As Mum said, it might turn out to be fun? Trembling, I turned and returned to my sister's room, my stomach knotted with apprehension. This was going to be a big step for me and would call on all my courage. Mum was sitting slumped on the edge of the bed, her head cupped in her hands. "Mum, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry" I crossed from the doorway and sat next to her, putting my arm around her shoulder. With a sob he pulled me to her and held me tightly, weeping gently. "It's wrong of me to ask you to do this; I know... but..." Mum trailed off, big tears rolling down her cheeks. She then lightly held my face with both hands and searched my eyes. "I'm sorry Peter, I'm asking too much of you, I just thought that maybe...just maybe." "It's Ok Mum, it's OK... I'll do what you want this once to makes you happy?" I said softly, before she could say anything more. I could feel her stiffening with my works. "Are you sure dear, really sure?" She searched my face. "Yes Mum." I was not sure by any means and more than a little nervous at prospect of what I was getting myself into. "Please be a dear and fetch me some tissues from over there" Mum sniffed after a short silence, both of use not quite believing what was about to happen. Taking a handful of tissues I handed them to her, she wiped away the tears and then stood up. "Wait here for me love, I'll be back in a moment" She left the room, leaving me in an acute state of awkwardness. I heard her bathroom door close. Anxiously I surveying my sister's school uniform, it was the one she had used for her last year. I noticed the 'terrier' lying to one side next to a heap of Pam's underwear. Before I could worry further about the situation, Mum returned, having freshened up. "Now dear, lets get started shall we? Before you change your mind!" Mum picked up a pair of white briefs, not unlike boys Y fronts, except there was no 'fly'. "Get into these" She ordered, handing me the panties. They were much softer and had a different texture to my own. My 'pecker' was quite evident against the smooth fabric as I pulled the panties in place. "Hum...we will have to do something about your 'John Thomas' dear!" Mum said thoughtfully and after a brief pause, "Try tucking 'him' back and under?" I did and was surprised to find that my 'John Thomas' tucked away quite neatly and gave me a smooth girly front. This caused my 'JT' to swell, but it was now held firmly in place by the strong gusset of the briefs. "That's much better!" Mum said with some satisfaction, "We can't have a bulge there can we my girl... Dear!" Mum quickly corrected herself. "Next, try this training bra" She said turning me around and slipping the garment on from behind me. It was tight and uncomfortable around my chest. It was such a strange sensation. The breast cups were slightly padded, giving me two small bumps in front; however Mum seemed satisfied with the fit. "You need to get used to this before you graduate to something more sophisticated", She said happily, turning me around admiring her handy work. I wondered what she meant by 'graduate'? What had she planned for me? "Here get into these tights" She handed me a pair of thick black tights. "Now bunch the legs up like this, and guide your toes in and now run the tights along your foot up the calf to the knee, then do the same with the other foot!" I followed her instructions, finally pulling the tights up over my panties and bum. It was not that difficult. They felt unfamiliar on my legs, but the soft smooth sensation was not an unpleasant. My 'pecker' was trying hard to get erect, except in its current soft, but firm prison (the tights were also helping, being tight around my hips and bum), he was not being allowed to achieve a full erection. I was glad at 'JT's" imprisonment, so that Mum wouldn't see my aroused state. "Come and sit here." Mum pointed to the stool in front of the vanity table. Obediently I sat down facing the bed. "Just relax dear; I'm going to apply a little make-up..." I flinched involuntarily from my mother's gentle grasp of my chin as she surveyed my skin and face. . "It's not going to hurt silly" Mum said misunderstanding my movement. She then started to put a very light skin coloured cream on my entire face, telling me to close my eyes and relax. I could feel the light deft strokes of a small brush over my eyelids. It was a surprisingly enjoyable sensation. "Suck in your cheeks love/" When I did so, she brushed something on the upper side of them. "OK, you can breathe out now, open your eyes and look up, I going to apply a little mascara, so don't blink." I did as requested. "Good, now, pull your lips back like I showed you while I apply the lip liner." She said as she surveyed her work. "That's very good; now let me put the lipstick on..." She was lost in another world. I had to admit that it was very calming feeling have someone working on my face. The stress about dressing had started to evaporate. "Now, let's put the wig on." She pulled and tugged the 'Terrier' onto my head and then brushed it out. "Oh my, oh my..." Mum gasped as she finished fitting the 'Terrier', tears welled up in her eyes. "Mum, please, please don't cry" I pleaded... "You're right dear, come on lets get finished." Wiping the tears away, She then helped me into a tight fitting white blouse with the buttons on the wrong side. Once the blouse was in place, she then assist me, as I stepped into the short dark grey pleated uniform skirt, pulling it up around my waist and fastening the button at the back and then pulling up the zip. Mum stood back and looked at me for a moment. "Pan always had the shortest hemline permissible. She was a little devil," Mum said absently. The skirt was short, about four inches from the knees. It was funny; I could not remember Pamela wearing such short skirts. I felt vulnerable, nevertheless strangely excited, 'John Thomas' had not given up! He was throbbing expectantly in his soft den. "Here try these on; I think you are about the same size." Mum said handing me a pair of Pam's black school shoes. These were in a 'loafer style' with a decorative silver buckle on the front cross band and had a slight platform sole with a small clumpy heel. They were all the fashion, worn by most sixth form girls (even today). With a little difficulty and with the help of a shoehorn, I slipped the first shoe on, followed by the other. They were a little tight across the front, but otherwise they fitted. "Well, Miss stand up, take a few steps" Mum commanded. I sniggered at being called miss. The clothes felt strange, tight, much tighter than I had been used to. I was feeling very self conscious and embarrassed about wearing GIRLS clothes, especially having such a short skirt... The shoes were strange, much lighter than my own and I felt like I was nearly standing on my toes (this was with school permitted 1 1/2 inch heels). "Walk around a little dear, get used to the shoes and the feel of the clothes" Mum encouraged me. Up until this point I had not see myself in a mirror. I moved gingerly up and down the room. "Take shorter steps dear, OH my goodness, you are just like...you are so beut..." she trailed off. "I don't think we will bother with the tie, what do you think?" She said after a few minutes. Her faltering words were not lost on me. "Yes I agree." I said in a little voice, finding that not only was it strange to walk in girls shoes, but also the way the clothes moved so differently with the body compared with my own male clothes. So this is what it feels to wear girl's clothes: tightness, smoothness, hardness, softness. So many new sensations assailed me; so many impressions filled my head. The clothes were close fitting, yet with complete freedom below the waistline. It was so strange, but very, very exciting. "Come, stand here and we will let you have a look at your new self" Mum opened the door to Pam's wardrobe, where on the inside of one of the doors there was a full-length mirror. She pulled the door back slowly. I was shocked with what I saw! A very alive Pamela stood looking back at me, short auburn hair, big lively blue eyes and a girly figure in a short pleated school skirt; except it was not Pamela, it was me inside, it was her twin. My Aunt had been right in a way. 'What do you think?" Mum asked eagerly. "I look like..." I just stopped short of saying Pamela. "I look like Pam's sixth form twin sister!" "Yes, you do, come on, do a few twirls for me... Have a good look at your other self" It was while standing sideways looking at the mirror that I first noticed the little lumps pressing against the front of my blouse, just perceptible, discreet, yet nevertheless there, for some inexplicable reason it thrilled me and my "pecker" screamed to be free and handled. Mum then gave me a dark blue woollen school cardigan, try this on. It's a little cold." I slipped the lose garment on, but also found it tight fitting. I started to do all the buttons up from the bottom. "No silly, you just do the top button here." Mum said as she fussed around me. The Cardigan really produced a nice effect over my small 'boobs'. I was very pleased with the result. "Come on, young lady...erre... what shall we call you while you are dressed like this, I can't keep calling you Peter?" Mum said, frowning slightly. "I don't know Mum, you created this girl!" I said feeling very awkward at the situation. Not sure what I was supposed to do or feel. "Then we'll just call you 'Pam', you are just like your sister, you really look like her twin" I said nothing, a little shocked, but also for some reason pleased. "Pam, yes I like that, Pam lets go down stairs. We can't stay up here all day can we?" Arm in arm we went down stairs. It was very weird and wonderful to leave the safe confines of the bedroom and enter the larger more open spaces of the lower house. I was still getting used to walking in slight heels and wearing a short skirt. Mum spent most of the afternoon and early evening drilling me in deportment and on what a girl can and can't do. I played along with Mum, as it was fun doing things with her again! I participated willingly in everything she suggested. The activity seemed to be distracting her away from the past dark months, she actually started to laugh. That evening, together we made a warm pasta salad, eating it in front of the TV, while making dry comments about people's lack of dress sense and other human failings. I started to notice that Mum treated me like a daughter, a girl, Peter was forgotten for the moment and this was not lost on me. When it was time for bed, Mum showed me how to remove the make-up, and apply moisturising cream. Slowly I returned back to Peter and eventually Peter had to put all of Pam's clothes away, back from whence they came. I felt an unexplained sadness, a feeling of loss as I placed the last items back in the wardrobe and closed the door. Mum, then ushered me out of my sister's room and locked the door. "We don't want the new Pam getting ideas, do we?" And with that she kissed me good night and retired to her room. That night I could not sleep, I kept thinking about the new Pam, I had found the whole experience very exciting. 'John Thomas' needed his say and I had a series of the most rewarding wanks I'd ever had. At the climax, I kept seeing those small breasts pressing against the tight school blouse. It was such a turn on. For this Sunday onwards, every time I got home from school, Mum would take me up stares and dress me as the schoolgirl Pam. I was getting used to the strange clothes and I found unexpectedly that I really enjoy my time dressed as Pam. Mum started to teach me how to apply make up and the rudiments of clothes coordination. Above all else I was having a lot of fun with Mum, really enjoying these private moments. Upon her suggestion I now started to let my hair grow again. It was exciting to have such a secret between us. When at school I now looked at the girls and the female teachers differently. Watching their movements, noting the different fashion styles (and lack off) and imagining what style I would adopt if I was a young lady. When dressed as Pam, it surprised me to find that I talked in a different way, in softer tones. Yet it was noticeable that Mum was very happy and relaxed with Pam and less so with Peter. On the other hand while I enjoyed being Pam, I was still underneath Peter and I sometimes felt undeniable relief when I returned to being a teenage boy. Mum started to ventured out a little, all be it to the local supermarket only; nevertheless it was a start and it brought her back into contact with the outside world. I called Aunt Mo on a regular basis and gave her briefings on events and as a result of this Aunt Mo started to visit Mum more frequently, gently helping to encourage her. However I kept quiet about Mum dressing me as a girl, just telling her that I was only doing the wig thing. On Aunt Mo's visits Pam was put away until she left. On one of Mo's visit after I had started to dress, she gave me a big knowing wink and a nudge me, I smiled shyly back wondering if she knew my secret. "So the wig is working?" she whispered. "I think so!" Was all I said, a little embarrassed to say anything more on the subject. I could see that Mum now appreciated Aunt Mo's visits more and more and during these times Peter was left to get on and do some of the outstanding male chores around the house or visit nearby friends. 4. An Aunt, a man's best friend? Autumn was giving way to winter and the weather had turned cold and blustery, with frequent storms that brought cold showers of unremitting rain. Most outdoor activity had ground to a halt, even the swimming had slowed up due to winter illnesses. When at home, I now spent all my time dressed as Pam, Mum had broadened my female wardrobe, the school clothes had given way to skirts, blouses and warm woolly tops and every now and then she would dress me in one of my sister's party dresses. Mum always selected the clothes for me to wear... This suited me fine. The basic white training bra had given way to a more mature style, with lace trimmed cups and thinner more delicate straps. As with the bras my panties were now in matching styles, that were very feminine and more colourful, with pastel greens, pinks, blacks and of course white. I was surprised to find that most of these new style bras were well padded, giving me quite a noticeable bust line. In addition to this subtle change, Mum now started adding simple necklaces, bracelets, bangles and any rings that might fit, completing the illusion of a teenage girl. As I only had one pierced ear (as most of the boys in my school) with a small steel stud, Mum produced some basic clip-on earrings (they hurt like hell after wearing them for a time). "John Thomas" was delighted with these changes and on occasions worked over time without complaint! About six weeks after I had been dressing as Pam, I arrived home from school in the early afternoon, soaked to the skin; it was a particularly cold and wet day. All sports activities had been cancelled for the afternoon. Shivering with cold, Mum lead me up stares to her bathroom and ran the bath while she helped me peel off the heavy sodden winter clothes. I had got used to being naked around my Mum and unlike other teenage boys of my age; I was no longer embarrassed about my nudity. Climbing into the bath, I layback enjoying the enveloping hot scented water as it chased away the chill. Mum, had sprinkled some lavender bath salts into the water, which gave off a very pleasant feminine bouquet. I closed my eyes and lazily dreamed of Pam. Mum returned after putting my wet clothes in the washing machine, and much to my surprise she asked me to stand up. I did so while she examined my body keenly. "You will need to shave some of this hair off! You can sit back down again dear." She said in a matter of fact way as I sank back down into the welcome warmth. I was a little taken aback by her comment, however as I examined my legs, arms and chest, it was true, they were hairy, but in a youthful way, nevertheless the hair was noticeable, especially under my arms. "Here, let's shave some of this fluff off" Mum said producing a razor and some cream. Without further ado she set to work efficiently shaving me, with a caring gentle touch. "That's better, much better." Mum said with some satisfaction when she had finished and my body was completely smooth. . I felt very naked! When I dried off, Mum handed me a large plastic bottle of body lotion, which gave off a slight rose scent. "Rub this all over your body love." Once I had finished applying the scented cream, I followed Mum into Pamela's room to start the wonderful transformation ritual. On the bed there was only some underwear and a white blouse. Mum handed me a delicate, but firm pair of white panties that had black lace trim and stitching, I then slipped on a matching bra. The set looked very sexy, very adult and I found it hard to keep 'JT' tucked away in his lair. Mum then gave me a pair of very fine, soft dark tan tights that were quite different to the thick black school tights I worn so far. Gingerly under Mum's direction I slipped them up my legs. They made my now smooth legs tingle, as the nylon seemed to caress the skin and in turn my 'pecker' was getting stimulated as never before. There was however, little outward sign showing this bursting internal excitement. Over the past few weeks, we had perfected the art of tucking JT down and behind, with the balls pushed up into the body. This produced a very effective smooth girly front. "Here, take these Mary-Janes, they are such a pretty shoe, I never understood why Pamela never liked them." Mum handed me a pair of my sister's black leather dress shoes that had a heel of about two and half inches. They were very feminine, much more so than the school shoes I had been wearing so far. They slipped on without too much trouble and were a comfortable fit. I sat back and let Mum apply the make-up and work her magic, enjoying the sensation of light brush strokes over my face, "I'm going to use a little light blue and purple eye shadow, with a darker blue eyeliner and dark blue mascara." She paused, concentrating as she fussed around my eyes. "That's very nice dear, very discreet, now lets put a touch of pale pink blush on those cheeks... and now this rose pink lipstick with a slightly darker lip liner..." Next she picked up the pageboy wig and started shaking it and brushing it out several times before slipping it on my head. When finished, Mum stood back, evidently pleased with the teenage girl in her underwear. Then Mum handed me the long sleeved white blouse and helped me into it and while I buttoned it up, she fussed some more with the wig. When she was finely happy with the set of the wig, Mum opened the large wardrobe and after shuffling clothes for a bit, she selected a grey shift dress with a very fine 'Prince of Wales' check pattern. Un- zipping the dress, she then helped me step into it, pulling it up, slipping my arms through the armholes and then Mum zipped it up back. The dress was very tight around the waist and chest and had a very short hemline and low neckline. Then Mum fastened a couple of thin short black shoelace necklaces around my neck that had small clusters of coloured beads and petite silver medallions, then adding some bangles, bracelets and a wristwatch to my wrists. The doorbell rang. We both looked at each other. "Are you expecting anyone Pam dear?" "No Mum." Mum got of the bed and went down stares. I could hear her talking to someone. Then the front door closed followed by the sounds of my mother moving around down stares. I was mesmerised by the very definite change in my appearance that I now saw in the mirror. The shift dress with the open collar blouse made me look like a young woman rather than a schoolgirl and the breast mounds were very noticeable. The finer tights and shoes with their narrow two and half inch pointed heel brought a level of style to the whole image. At first, I found it a little difficult to stand in the heels without holding onto something, however I quickly started to get my balance and get more control of my movements. "Come on down dear and we'll make some tea" Mum called from the bottom of the stares. Without further thought, with short steps (as Mom had shown me), I gingerly made my way down to the kitchen, holding on tightly to the balustrade, descending still a little unsteady in the heeled shoes. Reaching the bottom safely, I walked with more confidence into the kitchen, enjoying the feeling of walking in heels. It was quite amazing the mental transformation this little change produced. With the short shift dress, I felt vulnerable as it moved with my body, yet the heels gave me a sense of superiority, a very peculiar and satisfying contradiction. "Mum, tea's a graa..." I stopped, too shocked to speak, my mouth hung open. "Hello Pam" Aunt Mo said rising from a kitchen chair and extending her arms for an embrace, "My, you do look pretty girl!" I froze, horrified at having been seen dressed as a girl by another person, blushing with acute shame. "Pam, there's no need to be embarrassed darling, after all, I was the one that suggested you try the wig in the first place." Aunt Mo said, advancing and giving me a hug. My knees went week with mortification. I broke free of her. "How could you do this Mum..." I shouted, appalled at having been exposed wearing a dress... Even by Mo... I backed quickly out of the kitchen, seeking the safety of my room. "Pam its okay, Please come back love. Let me explain...!" Mum pleaded, following me, catching hold of my wrist just as I mounted the first step. I could go no further without having to put up a fight. Feeling humiliated, I meekly turned and followed her back into the kitchen, head bowed, too ashamed to look at Aunt Mo. "Sit here, darling, and keep in mind what I taught you." Sullenly I obeyed, keeping my knees together with crossed ankles. "Good girl!" Mum said soothingly. At the word girl I looked up furiously, nevertheless I said nothing. My shame was giving way to anger at being set up. "My god, what a resemblance, you truly could pass as your sister's twin... It's quite, quite amazing!" Aunt Mo said to no one in particular. "No need to be shy dear, Aunty Mo has known all along about me dressing you up as a girl." Mum said as she went over to the electric kettle and poured hot water into a delicate china teapot decorated with small roses. Looking angrily at both women, I noticed they were not making fun of me; in fact, they seemed to treat my transformation as something quite normal. "Your mother called me after you agreed to put the wig and lipstick on." Mo said as she took a cup of tea from my mother. "Pam dear, I was very worried that I was just asking too much of you... I desperately needed to see if you would look like your sister... and once I saw you in the wig with the lipstick, I just could not help myself in taking it a little further by getting you to dress as Pamela." Mum confessed. There was a brief silence as I accepted a teacup with trembling hands; both women sipped their tea. "I have so loved having a daughter again!" Mum said hurriedly filling the growing silence, while trying to hide the tears that were starting to flow. Aunt Mo handed her a hanky. "Aunt Mo, you've known about mum dressing me up as Pamela since the beginning?" I asked, realising that Aunt Mo was a co-conspirator. "I only really understood how far you mother had gone, on my first visit after our little talk." Mo looked at my mother and then sipped some tea. "Your mother told me everything, she was so happy to have a new daughter." Mo looked at Mum and then turned to me. "Your mother needed advice too, just like you did! She was equally confused you see." I looked from one woman to the other, now amazed at their complicity. The anger and embarrassment, was giving way to sense of acceptance of the situation. "From the reports I was getting from your mother, I was very keen to meet my new niece." Mo looked me up and down approvingly. "And I really like what I see...You are just so picture perfect!" Mum cut in excitedly, enjoying the revelation of the conspiracy. "So when you were in the bath, I thought this was the ideal opportunity for Mo to meet Pam!" Mum smiled at me warmly, she then stretched out a hand and gently squeezed my shoulders and leaning across she kissed me affectingly on the cheek. "I now have the best of two worlds, a loving daughter and a loving son, what more could a mother ask?" Mum said, again tears starting to flow. "So the two of you have engineered this almost from the beginning?" I asked in a small voice. Part of me wanted to race up stares and tear off the girls' clothes and forever discard Pam, I was confused and not sure of anything any more. I felt ridicules and ashamed to be in girl's clothes; but what was I to do? Yet the other half, the stronger half, urged acceptance of the situation, enjoy the intimacy between us. "Now Pam, we have a further surprise for you!" Mo announced as Mum rose and left the kitchen. What more humiliation could be in stall for me...what had they been planning? "Your mother has agreed to visit a physiatrist and we made an appointment for her for to day. Your mother needs help in thinking things through and she must now start to make some choices about the future. It's a wonderful bonus that you are here now instead of being at school." Mo paused looking me squarely in the eye. "Your mother is now stronger, more able to face life and this has all been almost entirely due to your huge efforts, your love and willingness to help her by taking on Pamela's roll." I felt tears welling up in my eyes and I needed to be hugged and reassured, as all the emotions swirled around inside, levering me feeling weak and exhausted. Aunty Mo must have read my mind as she got up and pulled me to her. "Don't cry little girl, don't cry, that's a good girl" She patted and rubbed my back, in a comforting way. "We don't want to spoil your lovely make up now, do we?" I sniffed and look at her for a moment. "Here, let me tidy you up a bit" she said wiping some tears away, "There no damage at all!" "What do you want me to do?" I asked in a very small voice, no longer sure who I was, not sure any more of anything... After all, I had never wanted to be a girl or dress as a girl! I was doing this just to please my Mother. Wasn't I? Yes. I had started to get a lot of pleasure from dressing in my sister's clothes and really enjoyed some of the side benefits with 'John Thomas', but how far was I willing to go? To what lengths did Mum and Aunt Mo want to take this dressing game? "We're going to my cottage for a few hours, while your mother goes to her appointment." "What!" I exclaimed in disbelief... "Go out dressed like this... No way Aunty! No way... Why can't I just change back to Peter or stay here on my own?" "Come on! Your mother has gone to a lot of trouble to make you look good, so why not go out as Pam! No one will recognise you as a boy! Look at yourself, take a good look, do you see a boy there?" I did not need a mirror to answer that one; I knew I would easily pass as a girl. Mum had done a wonderful job teaching me what was needed to be a young woman. "But what is wrong with Peter? I asked stubbornly. "I like my new niece, I like what I see and I want her to be with me for a little while, after all I have seen lots of Peter haven't I..." Mo said warmly, radiating a big smile, disarming any further resistance. This was a really stupid idea that both women had hatched! But deep down there was a tingle of excitement about the daring and courage it would take to go out dressed and to be honest with myself, I had started to have fantasies about stepping out dressed as a girl. "Ok Aunt Mo, I'll do this for you and Mum, just this once you understand..." I said looking at the floor, while absently playing with the hem of my short dress. "Good, that's settled then, now come with me." Mo ordered. "Here you are dear, you'll need this" Mum said from behind me, standing in the kitchen doorway. She must have been there the whole time Aunt Mo and I had been talking. She handed me Pamela's black winter duffel coat and a pair of grey woollen gloves. The coat was heavy and Mum helped me slip into it. It felt strange as it hugged my body firmly, but left most of my legs exposed. Mum, then wrapped a red and gold patterned silk scarf around my neck and did the Duffel coat up (I still got confused as to which side girls buttoned up). "Here lets have a look at the make up." Mum said, as she touched up the lipstick and eye make-up, where my tears had smudged it a little. "That's my girl." She said standing back admiring her handy work. "Here take this," Mum handed me a black leather shoulder bag that my sister had used. " I have filled it with all you will need, plus I have put some money in the purse, just in case!" Mum whispered in a warm loving tone, she then giving me a quick hug. "I can't believe you look so beautiful, oh, I am so proud of you..." Mum quickly whipped a few tears from her eyes and once Mo had put her overcoat on, she ushered us out of the front door and into the driveway. It was a peculiar feeling having cold air swirled around my legs, the novel sensation momentarily distracting me from the fear of being out in the open, dressed as a teenage girl, exposed to the world. The rain had temporarily eased to a very light sprinkling. The air was heavy with the smelt of damp vegetation. I stood motionless for a few seconds, confused by the new emotions I was experiencing and they were not unpleasant at all. It was all so alien. I found the feeling of the nylon on my legs and the slight chill on the thighs and calves electrifying. Aunt Mo got in to her car and pushed opened the passenger door for me, and then she quickly inserted the ignition key and starting the engine. "Get in girl! It's to cold to hang around out there." She was right. "Bum first, then bring you legs in, with knees together, remember your not wearing trousers now...thank god." She chuckled. "Buckle up young lady" She added putting the vehicle into gear. Aunt Mo manoeuvred the car out of the driveway and as we drove off, I watched Mum as she waved to us from the front door porch, blowing me a kiss and then turn and disappear inside. She was gone. I was now out in the world dressed as a girl, on my own. Well almost. I was very apprehensive. What if my mates saw me and recognised me! What if my teachers saw me, what would class be like tomorrow...? What if, what if??? It started to steadily rain again, the windscreen wipers flipped back and forward with a monotonous mechanical beat. "Keep your knees together Pam dear." Mo reminded me, as we drove. I could not help feeling that everyone was looking at me, pointing, ridiculing me... "Look, look there goes that boy in girl's clothes" Soon however it became apparent that few people paid us much attention as we drove through the town in the steady drizzle. We were just two women in a car going somewhere. "Pam, what are you using for boobs, dear? " Aunt Mo asked in a matter of fact way, shooting me a quick glance. "The Bra has some padding already and Mum added some tissue paper to help, why?" I asked a little embarrassed, now self-conscious of the little mounds protruding from my chest. "Just curious dear." Mo replied. In a perverse way, I was disappointed at the lack of any attention I was receiving, save for the occasional glance from pedestrians as we passed crossings. I mentioned this to my Aunt in a half joking tone. "Don't worry dear, you will soon turn heads, mark my words..." "What do you mean Aunty?" Confused by her statement. At this point we entered the leafy damp street she lived on and Mo parked in a space at the side of the road a few doors down from her cottage. I had a quick look around to see if anyone was on the street. To my relief there was only an old man holding a big green umbrella, dressed in a bright yellow waterproof jacket and green wellies walking a small wet dog. They were on the other side of the street and they appeared to be heading away from us. Unlike our house that had a small front drive and parking area, which was shrouded from the prying eyes of our neighbours by tall hedges and small coniferous trees. Aunt Mo had to park in the street and enter her front gate from the pavement. When Mo switched the engine off, the moment had come where I would have to leave the relative safe confines of the car and make the short dash to her front porch and the safety of her cottage. We sat for a moment while the rain in abundant small rivulets ran down the windscreen. Aunt Mo then turned and stretched behind her, retrieving a battered multi-coloured golfing umbrella. She then pushed opened her door and with an easy motion opened the colourful umbrella, while getting out of the car swiftly, slamming the door shut behind her. I watched Mo's progress around the car to my side with mounting fear and dread. Aunt Mo opened the door, holding the umbrella over us. Taking a deep breath trying to steady my thumping heart, I eased myself out of the seat; mindful of keeping my knees together (this is not an easy manoeuvre to do at the best of times, let alone in the wet). Standing up and closeting the door, huddling close too Mo for protection from the rain, we edged our way around the car back onto the pavement. We were just a few steps to safety when the man with the dog approached us. I was on the edge of bolting in panic. "Hello Mr. Atkins" Aunt Mo greeted the elderly man cheerily, "Wonderful weather we are having?" "Oh, it's you Mo" The old man responded, "and who is this delightful creature you have with you?" He said looking at me. I was about to die on the spot. He moved the dogs leash from the right hand to his left, which was all ready holding his umbrella. "My pleasure." He said while extending his hand. "This is my niece Pamela, she is visiting from the south," My Aunt said, smiling at me and making pointed jerks with her head, indicating that I should take his offered hand. I did, timidly, trying not to grip to tightly, in what I imagined a girl's light grip would be. I became very keenly aware of the cold rain soaking through my tights around my ankles and feet, yet another new sensation "Hello" I said in a breathless tone that was caused by panic, my legs were trembling (Oh God he's going to see me for what I really am... A BOY!) "Glad to meet you Pamela, you are a fine looking girl! Just wish I was twenty years younger." He chuckled, flashing me a warm grin. I tried to think of a reply, but my mind was blank, frozen with the dread of discovery. Much to my consternation he was still holding my hand. "I am sure you were quite a ladies man!" My Aunt sailed to the rescue. "Yes I was, but that was a long time ago... Ah well Mo, got to be going, Hector needs his run!" He tapped the fat shorthaired Jack Russell with the side of his green booted foot. "Pleasure to meet you Pamela my dear. I do hope I'll have the pleasure of meeting you again some day soon. Good by Mo" He finally let go of my hand. I tried to smile back at him, but it felt more like a grimace. "Good-by" I stammered in the same husky tone, as he turned and ambled off with the wet dog. "Dirty old man" Mo said quietly. "Come on let's get in out of this rain". We entered the warm cottage and I nearly collapsed with the relief of having reached the safety of the cottage. Yet there was an even deeper sense of ecstasy at having got away with the deception so easily. After the initial rush of adrenaline had subsided from my first foray into public dressed as a girl, Mo made us some coffee and we sat drinking it in the warm cosy living room. We talked about my dressing, my mother and the wonderful progress she had made back to an almost normal life. While we put the empty coffee mugs and pot in the kitchen Aunt Mo said. "Listen dear, don't forget, that when she next asks you to do something extra ordinary, you must extract something in return. You missed a good opportunity when she asked you to start dressing!" 5. As you like it! The next few weeks slipped by in a whirl of school, swimming and dressing as Pamela. Mum had now started to manicure and paint my finger and toenails with clear nail polish. At first I was very self-conscious of this, but I soon realised that nobody noticed and those that did, paid little attention to the fact. Mum started dressing me in more and more of my late sister's clothes, revelling in having a daughter again. I now no longer wore the school uniform; Mum had adjusted a few winter dresses and some other garments to fit me better, On Aunt Mo's very next visit, she produced two small boxes and handed them to me. "Here dear, I think these will be a big improvement." Inside each box was a flesh coloured breast form, that was soft and cold to touch and moved like real flesh. "Proper silicone prosthetic breasts, just like the real thing" Mo added. "Oh Mo, these are perfect, just right, what a lovely present, they are so real to touch!" Mum exclaimed while turning one of the breast forms over in her hand. "Let's see what they look like on you, Pam?" Mum helped me to open my blouse, pulling out the tissue paper and then slipping the silicone breast forms into each bra cup. Immediately I felt the weight of them, it was so different. The bra straps took the strain, becoming tight against my shoulders and body. At first they were cold and clammy against the skin, but as they warmed, they give the impression of fusing with my skin, becoming part of me. I buttoned up the blouse, marvelling at how they moved and felt, they were just like Mums boobs. Now I had a pair of real breasts. In explicably I was thrilled with the new breasts (and so was JT), how tight the blouse had become over my new boobs and they were very noticeable as they moved with every brea