Andy
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Andy 12 free porn video
Andy by Transbonder, translated by Leah from the German
TWELVE
Mom was mending clothing, sewing on buttons and such stuff. I sat down
with her.
"Mom, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"I've never heard of anything about your brother before?"
She laid down the blouse between us and sighed. "Sometime this
conversation had to come. I'd always wished it would be later."
"Why?"
"Quite simply because you are too young to understand some of it."
"Too young? I'm fifteen!"
"For some things that is too young. For example in the case of movies,
there are limitations on age at 16 or 18. And that wasn't done for no
reason at all."
"And what is it about your brother that's so bad, that I'm not allowed
to know it?"
"It is nothing bad at all. You just won't understand it."
"Just try. Then I'll tell you if I understand."
"You don't quit so easily, eh? OK, good, I'll tell you a little. Then
you'll also understand why I've done certain things.
"My brother is somewhat older than I. He was almost as old as you are
now, when he was caught in my mother's clothing. My father reacted
terribly, beat him like a mad man. But even though he was very fearful
after that, he kept putting on feminine things and often wore girls'
lingerie.
"Then by accident my father caught him again. He beat him so much that
he had to go to the hospital. The youth authorities were brought in and
threatened to take his children away from him. But I didn't want to live
in a 'home.' Maybe it would have been better for him if we had gone into
such an institution.
"He couldn't dress himself as a girl any more, but he did find
understanding from my grandparents. But he couldn't be there very often.
He began to dress less and less like a normal girl. In the beginning it
was a few things for little girls, which he had acquired somehow; he
didn't have complete outfits until Grandma bought him the Alice costume.
She loved him so much that the money didn't matter to her.
"You have always been quite similar to him, but in this costume you were
like his twin."
You could tell by her voice that this tale agitated her very much. After
a pause she continued.
"The clothing developed more and more into a fetish."
I interrupted her. "What is a fetish?"
"If someone accepts a substitute object in place of normal sexual
activity. For example, special clothing."
"And what did he wear?"
"It was always things for younger and younger girls until he dressed
himself like a baby."
"A baby?" I thought of Lena and found nothing interesting there that
would cause a person to dress like that. Especially the stinking diapers
were yucky. "You mean, all of it?"
"Yes, including diapers, plastic panties and pacifier."
It made me tremble.
"He was taken to a psychologist. But that brought no significant
improvement. He began to dress like a serving girl and helped Grandma
clean the apartment. She thought that was a good deal."
"And why did he do that?"
"Many things join together in this. The most important is probably that
he couldn't be the girl that he wanted to be. But also the lack of
affection at home. A baby is someone who is well taken care of. And then
it has become a fetish."
"I don't understand. What's so great about being a baby?"
"I told you, you would not understand. You are too young."
I couldn't think any counterargument.
"What became of him?"
"He died. From AIDS. In those days there weren't yet medicines as good
as today's."
"Oh." Now it was clear to me why Mom was so emotional about these
things.
"You are closely related to him; I thought that eventually you might be
like he was. You look unbelieveably like him."
"Is that why you gave me the girl things?"
"Yes. I intended that in no case would you end up like he did. If so,
then you should never have to fear the same kind of unhappy
consequences."
"I can decide for myself whether I want to dress like a girl?"
"Yes. You do not need to fear doing it."
"Wow." It seemed to me that Mom simply rocked! I couldn't help it, I had
to give her a hug. It was strange as our breasts pressed against each
other.
"Is that the reason you gave me the children's things?"
"No. That actually just happened. But I thought it wasn't a bad test.
You had so willingly dressed in the exaggeratedly girlish stuff."
"I didn't think so," I protested.
"Oh yes you did. Scarcely a boy would have put on those things at all,
would have preferred to go without underwear."
By way of diversion I looked at my hand. Long artistic fingernails. And
my look was framed by long hair. Two small swellings pushed out from my
chest into my line of sight. I looked like a girl, I knew that. But did
I want to be one? "Do I really want to be a girl?"
Only later did I notice that I had been talking aloud. Mom answered, "I
can't tell you that. In the next few weeks we will figure it out. You
will do everything like a girl, even the not so agreeable things."
##
The "not so agreeable things" began on the next morning. Like every
weekend it was time for washing, and this time it was my job.
"Aww, Mom," I groaned because of all the work.
Her glance said everything, she didn't need to speak.
I didn't say anything more, just worked. Actually I had no grievance, I
didn't have to do more than she did every weekend. Even less, because
she helped. I just wasn't used to it, since as a boy indeed helped but
had been spared several "typical womanly" tasks. Now I had to hang Mom's
nylons up in the bathroom and match up her lingerie.
Mom's things weren't bad, but I like mine even better.
##
"Your make-up is in need of urgent repair," Mom said when I had fallen
on the couch in exhaustion.
"Aww, Mom, I'm pooped."
"That doesn't matter. It is expected of young women that they always
look perfect. In the case of girls of your age, that isn't so critical,
but you dress as though you were a college student."
Mom once wore such things? I was amazed. I'd never seen Mom as a sexy
college student, just -- just as Mom.
"From now on the following rule will apply: Your make-up must always
suit your clothing. As a little girl you don't need to do much, but as a
young lady it must be perfect."
Of course I hadn't thought of things like that. First, all the work, and
now not being able to relax.
Mom went on, "Just be happy about your acrylic nails. Otherwise you
could be putting polish on them because when you work, nail polish
breaks off quickly."
But I wasn't at all so happy about the nails. They caused serious
difficulties from time to time.
When I had escaped to the bathroom a broad smile came to her face. "The
joys of womanhood," she smirked. "And with all this he doesn't even get
a period. I want to see when he quits."
##
By evening I was dead tired, and my normally wonderfully sheer pantyhose
felt terrible. I got under the shower. After that I had no desire to
renew my make-up.
I pulled on pink tights, which were made of more agreeable cotton. I
just wanted to make clear that I didn't need any make-up now. And over
these came a gym suit. This was made of velvet, red below and white
above with long sleeves and a zipper in the back. The red part merged
into the white flame shapes as though it were afire. It looked terrific
to me.
Next time I just had to find tights that matched better. I was plain too
tired to change clothes again. I went to Mom and had her zip me up.
"You got your hair wet in back. Back to the bathroom and blow it dry."
Oh man! I just wanted to sit down finally. And to me it seemed it took
an endless amount of time until my much too long hair was dry.
Finally I was able to sit down on the couch next to Mom. I enjoyed
snuggling up against her. Today more than ever before.
##
Sunday. Finally able to sleep my fill. But Mom woke me at eight o'clock
already.
"Aww, Mom, after all it's Sunday."
"Exactly. We're going to church."
"We usually never go to church."
"I'm thinking you need the experience. We'll go to the Christmas mass,
and today for you this is an overall test. Be happy that we don't
normally go to church, so no one will recognize you. And now get moving,
it takes some time before a girl can get herself ready. Put on the black
velvet dress and jacket, but with black pantyhose and your new pumps."
My new pumps. I hadn't had them on yet. That motivated me to get out of
bed quickly.
It did take a while before I was dressed. I'd never noticed it before.
You don't put on your sheer hose as quickly as a pair of jeans. And
everything else took time, most of all the make-up. I really needed a
table with a mirror like Biene had. There was room for a lot of things.
After breakfast Mom sent me straight to the bathroom. My lipstick needed
to be refreshed, that was even obvious to me. But Mom was unhappy with
all my make-up. "That's OK for babysitting, but not for church. Take
some pains. You told me you can do this better than your girlfriends."
"Aww, Mom, but that takes so long."
"That's why I woke you so early. You still have half an hour. And don't
forget your jewelry. Your hair could use a little brushing, it looks
pretty awful."
As I disappeared into the bathroom again, she could hardly repress a
giggle.
##
"Well, OK, today I'll let it go," she said with an ernest expression, as
she inspected my efforts. "But next time it has to be better."
And I really had worked hard at it. My eyelids were perfect, as was my
eye liner. Subtle and flawless. Now in the case of my eyebrows I'd
gotten a little careless because of all the concentration I'd given my
eyelids.
But altogether I looked like a typical teenager, who was dressed for
church. With my black hose and the pumps my velvet skirt looked outright
sublime, and my breasts showed visibly to everyone that I was no little
girl.
Mom loaned me a jacket, since the pink one with white fur didn't go with
my outfit. I felt like a lady in the short, elegant coat.
"Andrea, that won't do." And then followed instructions on how to enter
a car in ladylike fashion.
I was already stressed before we actually got to the church. And there
Mom whispered in my ear constantly about how I was to behave. Now I had
been a girl for weeks at Mrs. Weber's and really didn't know a thing.
##
When we were at home again, I asked Mom, "Can I change clothes again?"
"No, I think you still have quite a bit to learn. Didn't your mother
teach you anything?"
I had to giggle, and Mom joined in.
The amount I had to absorb was obviously too much. It wasn't really
hard, just the sheer quantity of information led me again and again to
keep making mistakes.
I had always made sure that I didn't sit in a skirt with my legs placed
far apart. I'd learned that quickly by way of Mark, because I didn't
want him to see the bump between my legs.
But Mom said I sat there like a farm girl. After she figured out that
she was overwhelming me with too much information, she concentrated on
teaching how a lady sits down and then sits. Not just the legs, but the
arms also must be positioned correctly. Don't take up so much room, she
said again and again.
"If you don't know what to do with your hands, then lay them in your
lap."
And even that I didn't do correctly.
An hour later she opined that it was time to eat. "Let's go to the
Italian," she announced. We ate out very seldom, and so I was looking
forward to it.
It was not a fancy restaurant, but it wasn't just a pizzeria either. Mom
expected that I would put into practice what I had learned. I really
tried. Blotted off my lips, so that no lipstick was left on the glass.
And so forth. Even went after the meal to the restroom to repair my
make-up.
"And did you do everything right?" she asked on the way home.
I thought so. She didn't. But she could substantiate her "no" endlessly.
##
"You're not a girl just because you wear a skirt," Mom said, when we
were sitting on the couch. I had stretched my legs out with one foot
crossed over the other and kept my hands modestly in my lap.
"I understand that, Mom."
"No, you don't. You're making progress, but as soon as you aren't
concentrating, it doesn't work. Such things have to become automatic.
Like riding a bicycle: Once you've learned it you don't have to think
about it any more.
"Girls learn from childhood on up. One bit after the other. That goes by
unnoticed. At any rate the fundamental things, better behavior doesn't
appear to be so widespread these days.
"And then girls simply do some things automatically. Boys stiffen their
wrists in many activities, such as throwing. That's why they are much
better at that. But that doesn't look very elegant. Therefore you have
to put forth the effort to learn things on which a girl wastes no
thought. For example to be a little coquettish.
"We'll practice that regularly from now on."
Oh man, this isn't going to be a good vacation.
"I don't want to demand too much of you. You also have to learn that
certain behavior belongs to certain clothing. That means you can always
choose: Dress like an adult and behave like a lady. Or like a little
girl, then you can be like a child."
"Aww, Mom, these things are so sugar-sweet, they can make you sick."
"I've not seen you throwing up recently and you've had these clothes on
a lot. You don't need to prove what a great guy you are. That is
behavior for boys. Now you are a girl, and they think sweet things are
neat."
"But Svenja doesn't like that either."
"But she for sure liked it when she was little. Even girls like Svenja
still like that, but they want to be adult. That's why they don't admit
to it."
When I didn't respond, she continued, "At any rate you are going to wear
dresses off and on to get used to them. Until it is nothing
extraordinary. That won't make up for your nonexistent childhood as a
girl."
"And if I don't want to be a girl any more?"
"During this vacation you have no choice. Then you will get to decide.
However you then make your decision, you will have learned many valuable
lessons, even if you never again wear a skirt. With this process you
will reach a reasoned decision. And that alone is my goal. You need to
know what you are doing, before you end up like my brother."
"OK, Mom, I think I understand."
"Good. But never forget that officially there is no Andrea. That means,
be careful. Don't let yourself be taken in by someone like Bernd, that
can become very painful."
I nodded. She was right, I was occasionally careless. In the supermarket
someone had almost recognized me. There it was only the children who
were my salvation.
"In the short time I can't teach you everything, not nearly. You didn't
want to go to dance school, but I'd bet that your girlfriends were
there."
I nodded again.
"Should you wish to remain a girl, then you'll have to make up for time
lost. Just so you know what it's like to be at graduation ball at the
end of class, you'll reenact one tomorrow. I don't have an appropriate
dress, but Grandma bought my brother a communion dress back then.
Foolish nonsense to spend so much money. He only wore it once, and even
then he didn't like it. In actuality, it is truly beautiful, scarcely
different from a wedding gown."
"Why didn't you sell it then?"
"Because most brides have breasts, and that won't work in this dress.
And real girls are smaller for their communion."
##
In the meantime I found my new pumps less than wonderful. No, they still
looked great, but my feet hurt. Mom wouldn't allow me to take them off.
Only if I would change all my clothes. And I really didn't feel like it.
We had already been in church and out to eat, and I was once again
exhausted. It wasn't so much the physical side of things, although
walking in pumps makes requirements on untrained muscles, no, it was the
constant concentration.
I could put on one of the little-girl dresses and be at peace, but I
didn't want to permit Mom the victory, I wanted to stand my ground for
the day.
But there arose a way out: Mom asked me, if I would cook something. That
was fine with me, because I could get out of these clothes without loss
of face. My favorite jeans dress, the one with the pleated skirt, raised
my comfort level considerably. Now I was able to select a bra for
comfort and not for good looks.
After our meal I was very happy, as I was lolling about on the couch in
my leotard. I scarcely believe that girls do anything like that, but I
thought it was great. There I needed neither bra nor breast forms, which
had become pretty disagreeable after a very long day.
If I wore one leotard each day, my two weren't going to suffice.
"Mom, can you get me several leotards?" I had thought she would be
surprised, but she just nodded. "Moni still has a way to go in making
amends."
"But she's already given me several things."
"For the most part goods that she couldn't use for anything. Worthless
stuff, that she would have thrown away. No, she is clearly still in
debt. And a few leotards aren't going to absolve her."
##
Mondays in vacation are definitely better than other Mondays. Mom let me
sleep until ten. Then she came into my room with a large box.
"Good morning, Sleepy-head."
I rubbed my eyes. "Good morning, Mom. What's in the box?"
"Your dress. Today is your graduation ball."
"Oh." Right, she had told me.
"Shower and put on lingerie and white pantyhose. Use the shoes in the
box. I'll help you then with the dress."
As I was going through this process I learned from my own experience
what a crinoline is. And why I was supposed to put on my shoes, the
white, gleaming Mary Janes. The crinoline was a long white underskirt,
which almost reached the floor. Several rings spread it out from my
waist in the shape of a cone, so that it was now difficult for me to
reach my feet. On the label it said "10 feet circumference." The lowest
ring had a diameter of just over three feet. Fairly wide, but in
comparison with an ordinary petticoat, my legs were unbehindered.
As next came the shining white satin gloves the length of of lower arm.
At my questioning glance Mom explained, "You won't be able to put them
on later because the sleeves of the dress fit over them."
Then came the dress. It was really a dream. I was completely engulfed in
shimmering white. The skirt fell in three tiers over the crinoline to
the floor. On the closely fitted bodice there were decorations made of
lace and pearls. The sleeves were wide at the top like puff sleeves and
were close-fitting on my lower arm. There they were decorated like the
bodice. The lace ran over the backs of my hands as a triangle until
reaching the middle finger. There a thin ring of material held held it
around the finger.
Now I knew why I had had to put on the gloves first. And I couldn't take
them off until I took off the dress.
Something came to me. "What happens if I have to go to the toilet?"
"You'd better not. It is very involved and not possible without help."
And boys were not even required to lower their underwear, for that there
was a slit.
Around my waist was pulled a white ribbon like a broad belt and tied in
back with a large bow. In my ears were placed earrings with large white
hearts. Such large ornamental pendants I'd not had before. Then came a
plastic circlet on my head on which there were a lot of white plastic
blossoms.
"Actually an elaborate coiffure belongs to the ceremony. Unfortunately
we'll have to skip that."
As the last thing she picked up a white bag, which was decorated with
many tiny pearls and drew its carefully woven strap around my wrist. A
kind of handbag. A large white candle was placed in my other hand, which
down low had a wide drop protector made of white lace.
I went to the mirror. To get there I had to pay attention in walking not
to step on the skirt's hem. Small steps, Mom reminded me.
While I stared into the mirror in disbelief, Mom got the camera. Since
there was nothing in the mirror which suggested anything about my actual
height, I looked one hundred percent like a communion maiden. Or with
slight alterations like a bride.
I understood why a bride wore something like this. It was simply
beautiful like a dream. I had often seen myself as a girl in the mirror,
but this was completely different. Something very, very special.
Something like this a girl, or a woman, wore just a few times in their
lives. And the dress illustrated the extraordinariness. In its style and
its unambiguous femininity.
Yes, that was probably it, I thought. There is no more feminine piece of
clothing. And I was wearing it.
And I felt good doing so.
##
Mom took a bunch of photos and gave me time to get accustomed to the
dress. All at once everything was difficult, even the act of sitting
down with the circles around my legs.
Then Mom began her training again.
After a time I lamented, "Mom, I'll never again wear something like
this. Why do I have to be able to do everything?"
"You could be wearing an evening gown."
"But that's not going to happen. The gloves alone!"
"Oh, very many dresses have elegant gloves. And most of them are long.
Actually not all that different."
My complaints weren't really meant so seriously, because I actually did
feel like a princess.
##
It had never been so complicated to eat. For example, I had never before
eaten with gloves. And I couldn't sit at the table the right way because
the crinoline wouldn't allow it. Now I learned the source of the custom
of pushing in the lady's chair.
In fact you were lost if you were alone in the dress. You were as
helpless as a baby. You need help to dress, to sit down, to stand up.
And to go to the toilet. And that marked the end of the wearing of the
dress because neither Mom nor I had the desire to put it on again. Even
though it was so beautiful.
I'd also had enough of the lessons and decided to choose the option of
being a little girl so I could have some peace. I didn't feel like
wearing a dress, so I put on the Minnie-Mouse skirt. The one with lots
of large dots. It had an elastic waist and was very comfortable. Just
like the black sweater that I hadn't touched. It had in fact a large
Minnie Mouse on the breast. Red tights, and I was finished.
After Mom's explanations I had no problems with wearing it. In fact I
was pretty far along in the process of getting to like it. At least for
the moment.
"Mom, do you know what's still missing?"
She shook her head.
"Matching house slippers."
She grinned. "I'll tell Moni. She'll certainly already have something
suitably sweet for my little girl."
##
On the next morning I dressed myself up stylishly in the wool college
skirt. I met Mom in the kitchen.
"It's really not fair," I said. "I could've slept late today but I'm not
tired enough."
"Yes, life can surely be unfair at times. Nice outfit. You have taste."
I blushed. No idea what I could do about that.
"And you look especially sweet when you blush."
Hmm. Did I like that compliment or not? After a pause I asked, "What are
we going to do today?"
"Christmas preparations. Shopping and whip this apartment into shape."
Hadn't we already cleaned everything?
"And my very grown-up looking daughter can be such a big help to me.
Good thing I don't have a little girl who can't be of much assistance."
She had a diabolical grin on her face.
I surrendered to my fate.
##
I'd seldom gone shopping with Mom, because I always found it
excruciating. Today it was fun. In the heavy crowds I quickly lost my
worry of being recognized by someone. Instead of that I learned to
appraise the glances that were frequently thrown my way. They showed me
that I had chosen my outfit well. I felt myself sexy in a strange way.
Oddly I felt myself drawn much more to the girls. But they quickly
dragged their friend or husband away when he looked at me.
I noticed more and more how right Mom had been. I knew absolutely
nothing about being a girl. I didn't even know how I ought to react,
when an older boy called out, "Hallo, Sweetie." Without Mom at my side
he probably would have come up to me. What would I have done then? I
really must ask Mom at the next opportunity.
After some time the attention that was so pleasant at first began to bug
me. When I'd gone shopping before I'd been invisible, now I drew
interest to me.
We stowed our purchased in the trunk (Eng. boot) and drove home. On the
way Mom asked me, "And, what have you learned?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your clothing. Whatever is stylish doesn't always have to be good."
"You're right, Mom. Like always. All the girls were wearing jeans, I was
the only one in a skirt. But Svenja said I can't wear pants. I don't
have the figure for them."
"Correct. But you do have skirts that are cleary less sexy. One of the
long ones for example. With your boots that would look chic, too, but
clearly more discreet."
Up till now I had only thought about what looked good. Now I was
learning other aspects. And I understood girls, too, who weren't always
dressed the way I'd have liked them to be.
There's nothing like having your own experiences.
Maybe all boys ought to live a while as girls. But that wouldn't help
anything, I thought to myself. Because you have to want to understand.
##
It was precisely this recognition which caused me to listen more
attentively to Mom's next lecture.
Mom always noticed everything, and this time was no exception. However,
she didn't comment on my changed attitude. But I did notice that I had
risen in her estimation.
We moved our purchases into the kitchen. Then we permitted ourselves a
break. She drank a coffee, I cocoa.
I felt more connected to her than ever before as we sat there together.
Our relationship had changed significantly - and for the better. That
couldn't just be because I was now wearing girl clothing. Because I was
still the same person. Wasn't I?
Hortense
- 04.05.2020
- 7
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