Andy
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Andy 6 free porn video
Andy by Transbonder, translated by Leah from the German
SIX
I enjoyed Sunday morning and slept in. When I finally went into the
kitchen, it was already midday. Mom was nowhere to be seen. I found a
note on the table:
Hello Late Sleeper,
Moni called me and we're doing something together.
There is still some of your delicious goulash left.
Warm it up for yourself. Till this evening
- Mom.
While reading I noticed that I still had pink fingernails. And suddenly I
became aware, also the make-up from Alice. I hadn't noticed it while
brushing my teeth in my drowsy condition. It wasn't really glaringly
obvious.
I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My make-up had
survived the night in surprisingly good shape. I still looked like Alice.
I repaired it a bit with Mom's stuff, so that I wouldn't have to make
myself up later in the cold garden house.
I liked what Mom had done. I would undoubtedly make myself up like this
again. Did I have the right things? This mascara was brown and mine was
black. On the other hand, Mrs. Weber had given me so much, the right
thing might be among all that stuff.
Anyhow the softer colors gave me a more natural appearance. And with that
- a more feminine one.
Now was a good time to have a look at the photo album. But it wasn't
where it had lain yesterday. Mom had cleared it away. Why shouldn't I
look at it? And who was this other Alice? Mom appeared to have a strong
emotional link to her.
I went into her bedroom, perhaps she had taken it with her to bed. No, it
wasn't there either. But my Alice costume hung there. I let it glide
through my fingers. It had been an especially nice experience. I would
like to be Alice again.
Mom was so different to me - so affectionate. Not that she usually
wasn't, but she showed it differently yesterday. That struck a very
special nerve in me. I felt agreeably reminded of earlier times.
And the patent leather shoes were parked on the floor. I had an idea. I
had completely overlooked it yesterday. The shoes fit me. How was that
possible? Girls had smaller feet than I, especially girls who fit into
this costume. I picked them up. Yep, exactly my size.
I didn't know what I was supposed to think. Had Mom bought the shoes for
me? No, that wasn't possible. You could see from the soles that they had
been used, and there were also other traces of use. The shoes had been
worn often.
By whom? I could make no sense of all this. Yesterday I had at first
thought, it had been Mom's costume, and that she was chasing childhood
memories. But apparently that wasn't the case. Mom's feet were clearly
smaller than mine. The shoes would never have fit her.
I put the shoes back and stood brooding in front of the dress. I was just
a bit taller than Mom, but not by much. But at the time when Mom would
have worn such a costume, she would have been definitely younger and
therefore shorter. And it had fit me perfectly. Not approximately, but as
though tailored especially for me.
My search for a clothing label remained without success. Even after some
brooding the dress revealed none of its secrets. Then I got a new idea.
Mom had said, this came from our attic. Maybe I could find something
there.
I had practically never been in the attic. Oh man, what a bunch of trash!
It would take forever to find something here.
Yet with a little luck I did make a find rather quickly. A large box was
open. There might have been clothes in it. I looked in. Empty. But the
petticoat took up a lot of space, and so along with the costume the box
might have been full.
Immediately next to that there stood another, identical box. The lid was
cleverly closed with the lid parts folded over each other.
I saw at first glance that a dress lay on top. I took it out. It was a
kind of party dress, which is clearly no longer in fashion. Could it be
the same size as the costume? Quickly I decided, took off the top part of
my pajamas and pulled the dress over my head. My body was enveloped in
black down to the knees. I found the zipper on the side and drew it shut.
The dress fit. Perfectly. Except for the two spaces on the breast, which
weren't filled. Somewhat unusual for me was that the shoulders weren't
covered. The skirt had several flounces and moved at every motion. I
already had so many skirts, but this one was something new. I liked the
automovement of the skirt. I imagined myself as the previous owner
dancing at a festival, and the skirt swang right along. I turned with
closed eyes, felt the movement of the dress and wished that I were like
this at a festival.
The dream-moment didn't last long. I pulled several more things out of
the carton. Gradually a complete outfit emerged. I held something in my
hand that I couldn't identify at first. Fine black lace made it look like
lingerie, but what were these hanging straps? It took awhile before I
conceived its use. The nylons, which I next pulled out, brought the
explanation. The dangling straps were meant for the stockings.
That begged to be tried on. I took off the dress and also my pajama
pants. Naked I searched in the box to see if a pair of panties might not
be found. There was. But they were so small I didn't immediately identify
their use. Only because I didn't find anything else, I came to the
conclusion that this must be it.
Now the memory surfaced that I had already seen something like this. In a
magazine. The panties disappeared between the derriere cheeks. I was very
curious, how that would work. I pulled them on.
The feeling as the panties sank between my cheeks was not really all that
nice. I was tempted to take them back off immediately, but didn't. I
didn't have anything else and I didn't want to put the dress on naked. I
was too lazy to go downstairs for something.
Now I investigated the gadget with the dangling parts. Clothing for girls
is really complicated, I thought. A handbook ought to be delivered with
each one. But I managed to figure it out without instructions. However,
it wasn't simple. The cups showed where the front was and on which part
of my body it had to go. But the thing had no shoulder straps.
It was conceived like the Alice dress, you needed help to get it on. But
I did it, by lying down to wrap the part around my upper body, contriving
to grasp the zipper and then pulling.
My upper body was wrapped in a snug breath of insubstantiality.
Unbelievably sexy. I'd never seen anything like it, let alone had on. Now
I was just missing my new breasts.
I drew on the stockings. They had a seam in back. A broad band of black
lace marked the top of the stocking. I fastened one of the garter clips.
After I had figured out, how the clasp worked. Where did girls learn all
that stuff? Were there school classes: How do I dress? Maybe while the
boys took shop classes.
The front clips were simple, but those in back just that much more
difficult. I couldn't see what I was doing, could only work through the
sense of touch. But I got them.
I stood up. The stockings pulled on my upper part. With every movement I
was aware of what I was wearing. In the box were shoes, I'd already
noticed them. I took them out. A pair of elegant black pumps with needle-
like heels. Even higher than the ones I had worn once before. It was
exactly such pumps that I had been wishing for, I reminded myself. Only
with a lower heel. These were really high.
I slipped into both shoes. A perfect fit like the shoes with the Alice
costume. Could I take them?
I put the dress on again. Now I felt the movement of the skirt even more
- through the thin stockings and the small patch of naked thigh above
them. It felt - sexy. I had to see myself in a mirror. But first I needed
some additional upper dimensions. Something that I could stuff into the
cups.
The box was just half empty. Further down was more black lingerie; I saw
a black bra and still more nylons. I pulled a small box out. When I
opened it, I knew all at once why the shoes fit. I was looking at two
artificial breasts. They looked substantially more realistic than mine,
because they weren't shiny and gave off a visual effect more like genuine
skin. They also had a kind of silky feel.
The solution to the shoes that fit was quite unequivocal, because all
these things were meant for a boy. One exactly my size. Was this a clue
who this might be, that it concerned someone related to me. Who was he?
Mom had never spoken of someone like that.
I walked to the staircase and cautiously descended, paying attention to
the high heels. No, I couldn't take these shoes. For everyday wear the
heels were too high, they were something only for a celebration, for a
special day.
But when I saw myself in the mirror, I was determined that I would buy
myself such a pair of shoes. Exactly the same, just with lower heels.
Again it was a completely different Andrea who looked out of the mirror
at me. I had dreamed of just such a girl with whom I would go to a ball.
How could I be this girl, I asked myself in confusion.
The high heels were taxing my legs. I sat on the couch to give my legs a
chance to recover. While there I noticed the videocamera next to the
television set. That was not its normal place.
I turned on the TV and started the playback. A blond girl in a blue dress
was cleaning up in the kitchen. Mom had filmed me yesterday!
It was really peculiar to see Alice, and to know that I was she. She was
dressed for the job with the appropriate apron for her dress. I watched
myself as I wiped off the table. The movements had such a soft effect, so
maidenly. I remembered. I just wanted to be careful, so I wouldn't get
dirt on the dress with the full skirt I was unaccustomed to. I hadn't
been fully aware that I had moved like a girl. Nothing betrayed that it
was a boy in the dress.
A glance at the clock showed me that it was time to go to Svenja's. My
tour of discovery had cost more time than I had realized. I went up to
the attic again.
Almost sadly I removed the dress. Should I keep the lingerie on? With
these terrific breast forms, that looked genuine?
Better not, I said to myself sadly. Piece by piece I undressed and laid
everything back into the box.
In my room I put on my clothes from yesterday. After this experience I
didn't want to put on my usual things. Mom had said that the jogging suit
was just for at home, but I put it on anyway. In my make-up I looked like
a girl anyway. I checked it over, freshened up my lips and set out for
Svenja's.
##
Once out on the street, I had to ask myself if that had been such a good
idea. But I reassured myself quickly. From a distance the suit looked
similar to any normal jogging outfit, and my make-up could only be
detected close up. No danger as long as no one stood directly in front of
me.
While I walked the short stretch to Svenja's, I thought about what the
clothes in the attic could mean. I ticked off the facts. A boy had
crossdressed as a girl. Rather professionally. The Alice costume as well
as the other things were of the best quality. Mom was emotionally
connected to all this. Had something happened? If a boy dressed in girl
clothing and was discovered, that could have produced some trouble.
But this boy must have had help, just from the financial standpoint. How
might that have caused even more serious annoyance? And why hadn't Mom
ever mentioned anything about it?
The pullovers, which she bought me, and the other feminine things, were
somehow connected with this. But how? Did she want to see, whether I was
like this unknown boy?
Was I? In recent days I'd worn more girl- than boy clothing. But that was
just because of the job. Before I'd never entertained the thought of
putting on girl clothes.
But - I did like they way they felt. I liked how I looked in them. I
liked to put on make-up. And - I liked my fashionable jewelry. With this
thought I had arrived at the garden house. I put on the wig without net
and hair clips, and swore since I had to undress because of the teddy.
But I simply couldn't go in without breasts.
The changing of the earrings now took place free of pain. I had put on
the suit again, because there were no clothes lying in the garden house.
Well, after all it was a suit for girls. But it didn't feel quite right
when wearing no skirt. I rang the doorbell.
Svenja opened. "Come on in. Biene isn't here yet."
In her room she said, "Your make-up is different today?"
"Yes. Mom did it."
"Your mother?" Her eyes grew large.
"You can't imagine what happened yesterday," I bubbled over like a teen
girl. "But first show me the new things, I'll talk to you while
changing."
When she gave me a package to open, she saw my varnished fingernails.
"Wow, your nails are so chic."
"That was Mom, too."
"Tell!"
"No! Not until I have my new lingerie on as well as a sharp new outfit
with the boots."
"You - you girl, you!" she screamed while laughing.
I opened the box with the lingerie and placed it piece by piece on her
bed. The stuff was absolutely super. I didn't know what I should try on
first. Finally I chose a camisole which incorporated a bra; it was
terribly sweet. It was yellow with tiny little flowers, and there were
matching panties.
Several minutes later I had it on. It felt great and looked nothing less
than sharp. I was in seventh heaven. I almost regretted having to cover
it up. Svenja gave me white wool tights with a broad ribbed pattern.
"Short skirt or long one?" she asked me. At that moment she was holding a
super cute short skirt that was the College Look. I essentially tore it
out of her hands and pulled it on. I followed that with a pullover with
an exaggerated roll-collar and at last the new boots. The heels were
almost three inches high and not too narrow. I felt quite comfortable
dressed like this.
Fully turned on and therefore giggling nerously, I stood before the
mirror. Awesome! Even better than I had imagined. I could hardly wait to
show the others and to hear their views. Where had my shyness gone about
being seen wearing a skirt?
Would Mrs. Weber like it? And what would my mother say? Oh - right - I
couldn't ask her. To bad I really would have liked to show her. It had
been so nice yesterday in the Alice costume.
Hmm, yes, the costume. I still had to tell Svenja the story of my
Wonderland.
##
"I can't believe it. Your mother put an Alice costume on you? And made
you up?"
"And the costume is really awesome. Not some cheap junk."
"What costume is awesome?" asked Biene, who had just now come in.
"Andrea's mom dressed her as Alice in Wonderland and made her up."
"Complete with blonde wig and matching hair ribbon," I added with a grin.
"But first I want to know, what you think of my outfit?" I pulled the
sweater up a bit. "And of my lingerie."
"Easy does it, girl," Biene said. "Otherwise you'll have a heart attack.
You're being a total air head."
"When my mom dresses me as Alice - it rubs off."
"Now just go slowly and in order. Exactly what happened?"
And so I told the story for the second time.
##
"I would like to have seen how you looked as Alice."
"At first it was unusual - to be in a dress without breasts. And I'd
never before worn a petticoat; that was as strange sensation with all
that material around my legs..."
"What?" interrupted Biene. "A genuine petticoat? Made with lots of layers
of material? And not actually a crinoline?
"What is a crinoline?"
"A half-slip that has several concentric wire circles to hold out a
skirt."
"No, there was no wire. Just unbelievably many frills. And they were
supersoft."
"That's the most important thing for Andrea," Svenja interjected.
"A genuine petticoat is really quite expensive," Biene explained.
"Because of the immense amount of material and the painstaking work
involved."
"And the dress was for sure not just a little expensive. You should have
seen the puff sleeves."
"I would like to have seen it. Can't we do that?"
"I would like to wear it again. Really like to. But I have to ask Mom. I
don't know how she would react to that." I hadn't said anything about my
other discoveries and also nothing of the fact that everything was made
for a boy. I wanted to wait, till I knew more, before I blabbed some
intimate family history. It was enough for the two to see me in girl
clothes. I didn't dare think of the possibility of their telling the
wrong people.
Because my thoughts about all this were going in circles, I added by way
of caution, "You know, that no one can ever learn that I put on girl's
clothing to do my job?"
Both nodded.
"You can't even do it inadvertently. If it were to get out..."
"Not to worry, Andrea. Your secret is safe with us," said Svenja
solemnly.
"May I try on your new things?" Biene chipped in.
And with that the party got going.
##
I had put on the smallest panties with my penis firmly squeezed between
my legs. So I tried on the other things. At first both girls went into
the bathroom to change, but that got to be a drag, and I got to see
genuine breasts for the first time in my life. But it wasn't really
erotic. How could it be, when they were trying on MY lingerie, and I did
exactly the same thing? If you're wearing a bra yourself, then it's no
longer so interesting to see someone else in a bra.
Svenja's mother brought things to an end when she announced that it was
suppertime. I called home, but Mom wasn't there. It took a while before
we were all in outfits suitable for the evening meal. Biene had talked me
into a long skirt. At first I was against it, but with the boots it
really looked good. I think in the future I'll have to wear long skirts
from time to time...
Although, when I think of today's first skirt or of a jeans mini-skirt
or...
Svenja pushed me to supper, before I changed clothes one more time.
##
Monday morning. Grrr.
I was Andy again. Without make-up, without polish on my fingernails,
without breast forms. And without my new, sexy lingerie, for which I'd
worked for a week.
A splash of cold water in my face brought me back a little more into the
normal world. I brushed my teeth and looked at myself in the mirror. I
was a boy. No girl.
Afterwards I'd see Bernd and Matthias, and other friends of mine. I liked
being together with them. It wouldn't work, if I were wearing a skirt.
So far, so good. I dressed. I'd already worn my new lingerie too often;
that meant back to what I'd always worn. I didn't like it any more. It
wasn't beautiful, it wasn't soft, it was - nothing like what I wanted.
At least the other pullover which Mom had just bought me was a blessing.
I went to see Mom.
"Hi, Mom."
"Good morning, Pr..." She broke off her sentence with a smile. What had
she intended to say?
"How are you?"
"Should I be honest? How good can a Monday morning be?"
"Well, shared misery cuts it in half."
"How were things with your friend yesterday?" She hadn't come in until
late, had just briefly wished me good night in my room.
"It was a very beautiful day. And by the way, I brought you something
from her."
"Me? I hardly know her." We had been at her house once or twice. She
lived together with a friend, who was on the road a lot. Nor did she
interest me. Actually she had enough money, but she mainly ran an
internet shop out of boredom. When Mom told me about that I'd hardly
listened.
"But she knows you; I'm always talking about you. She has several
returned things, new stuff, which she can't sell any more. She's giving
them to you."
"And what kind of things are they?"
"All kinds of things. Look at them later, I'll put them in your room for
you. Well, now be on your way, it's getting late already."
On the way to school I reflected just a few moments on those things, but
other things were more important.
##
Mondays should be stricken from the calendar. It was not a good day for
me. I'd mutilated one assignment, and in that class I wasn't doing all
that well anyway.
Yesterday Biene had been so nice, and today I barely could recognize her.
Was she having her monthlies? I had heard that at those times girls don't
operate quite normally.
I was certainly glad when school was over. And it was time for something
positive. For example my new boots with the neat college skirt. I hope
Svenja had laid something like that out for me. I really needed to speak
to her about this in the future. But there was something to be said for
doing things this way, too. I was excited to learn what she had chosen
for me. And which lingerie, too.
Full of expectation I walked into the garden house and was not
disappointed. The skirt, which I had found so great yesterday, lay there.
I could have kissed her. That's exactly what I would do tomorrow. When
Biene couldn't see.
My boots made more racket than the ballerinas. In the apartment I hadn't
noticed it because of the rug. But on the hard floor the heels clacked
loudly.
I looked myself over. As always two legs in tights extended down from the
mini-skirt. Suiting the brightly colored skirt, they were woolwhite.
Along my legs ran a faint tracing of a braid, which made them appear even
longer than the short skirt with the boots already did.
And I needed to have no qualms about Lena today, thanks to my new breast
forms. My breasts appeared much more natural, it seemed to me. Even
without my teddy, in the glaring red bra, they stayed where they
belonged. Even when I bent over. And they were so much more comfortable,
since they were no longer pressing on a small place as the balloons had
done.
Mrs. Weber applauded my outfit with appropriate admiration. "New?" she
asked when she saw my facial expression.
"Yes."
"You have good taste. Far beyond your years. What do you want to be later
in life?
"I've no idea."
"You are still young. But you ought to think about whether something in
the fashion field might be something for you."
Fashion? Me? Then I'd better let my hair grow, I thought grinning, so
that I could have a hair-style like Lagerfeld.
##
When Mrs. Weber had gone, Mark stroked his hand over my tights again.
What was he up to? He was simply too young to associate anything sexual
with them. But something was going on in his head, I could plainly see
it.
And he was still young enough that he often wore tights. Not right how,
but I had seen him several times in children's tights. Something
completely normal for his age.
But this made his present behavior even more of a riddle. We'll see
whether I get to the root of the matter pretty soon.
Then he asked the most important question of the day: "What's to eat?"
And he had finished his lunch just a short time previously. I guess my
cooking skills weren't so bad.
"What are you hungry for?"
"Garlic!" he rejoiced.
"OK, but garlic just by itself isn't so wonderful. What with it?"
That got him going. French fries and fish sticks were out, that much was
clear to him.
"Something with Spaghetti? That Arra-whatever it was."
"Arrabiata? But we just had that." Then something from last vacation
occurred to me. A very simple dish, but very tasty. "I know. Spaghetti
Aglio Olio."
"What is that?"
"You'll like it. Aglio is Italian, it means garlic. So, spaghetti with
lots and lots of garlic."
"Super!" Mark was enthusiastic. The main thing was a lot of garlic.
I checked up on the ingredients. I found garlic easily enough, and also
olive oil, but it wasn't suitable. It was clear to me that in the case of
a dish that practically consisted of just these two ingredients, the
quality of the ingredients had to be so good that it also tasted good.
After all, you just can't rescue your cooking with herbs and other
ingredients.
Would I be able to get good garlic in the supermarket? Probably not.
Where else? Wasn't today farmer's market?
I went to Mrs. Weber's computer. She had explicitly given me permission
to use it. By way of caution, I first looked at the recipe. There were
chilis in it, too? Hadn't known that. I thought the heat came from the
garlic.
Next I checked the market times. Yes, today was market day. That meant an
excursion with the children. Even without the baby buggy; I grinned, my
breasts were now baby-safe.
Prophylactically I changed Lena's diaper. I had no desire to have an
accident right on my stomach. Especially not on my nice clothes.
In the meantime I was a little more clever in the matter of baby
clothing. I dressed Lena prettily in thick pink tights and a cute dress.
She simply looked sweet. Would completely steal the show from me, I
thought and had to giggle.
Mark had fetched the cap and gloves from the baby buggy and now pulled on
his own things.
With Lena firmly in front of me in the carrying cloth we headed outside.
Mark took my hand right away.
Ah, this way was clearly better than with the baby buggy, I was positive.
And Lena was enthusiastic about being directly in front of me and able to
feel my warmth. Without the hindrance of the buggy, I could also cope
better with all of Mark's spontaneous ideas.
It didn't take long to get to the little market. There were just a few
booths. I heard an older boy cut loose with a wolf-whistle and he looked
at me as though I was the intended object. My face got red, when it
became obvious that it was me he had in mind. I was probably protected
against further advances by the children.
Point, never go out of the house in a sexy outfit without children.
I looked around at the vegetable stand and asked about garlic. Of course
today he happened to have the best in the world. He could tell me
anything, since I didn't even know the different varieties. At any rate
the garlic bulbs were significantly better than in the supermarket, and
even looked purer.
I got some chilis, too. Then I asked about good olive oil. The merchant,
who came from southern Europe, asked me then what I, pretty girl,
intended to cook. I mentioned something about spaghetti, till finally it
became clear to me, that this wasn't working. He was flirting with me!
Even though I had two small children with me.
"Good-bye, beautiful lady!" he called to me as I fled rather than simply
walked away. I learned from a quieter and more serious fish seller where
I could get my olive oil. In the next stand.
Grr. I think I'll replace my brown wig with a blonde one.
"I need a real g..."
Lena didn't like my loud voice and it set off her siren. I tried to calm
her. When I had finally managed that, Mark had disappeared.
I looked around. "Mark!" No answer.
After half an eternity, that is, about twenty seconds, I still hadn't
found him. Panic was starting to set in. Lena reacted to that and started
her howling anew.
Oh man! If only I'd never gone shopping!
Now this Italian got into the act, too. I only understood "Bella"
(beautiful lady/girl) and "Bambini" (children). How could I turn this
asshole off?
My rage evaporated in a second as he came up to me holding Mark by the
hand. I was so glad that I wasn't going to jail after all, that I gave
him a kiss on the cheek. What on earth had really possessed me to do
that? This type man was very satisfied with such payment. And I was, too.
Lena was quiet, and Mark was safely holding my hand. I wouldn't let him
go so easily any more.
The olive oil was really expensive, but I was too flustered to bargain. I
just wanted to get home.
##
With Lena peacefully sleeping and Mark in front of the television I could
finally relax. No, I would never be a mother. No, never. And definitely
no children!
Slowly I composed myself. Then I began my homework.
Later Mark got bored with the television and came over to me. He leaned
against me. Then his head got heavier and heavier and sank into my lap.
Peacefully sleeping he lay there so unimaginably sweet. I scarcely dared
move. Little children are the most beautiful creatures in the world. Did
I ever say anything other than that?
Virginia
- 09.12.2022
- 8
- 0
