Andy
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Andy 14 free porn video
Andy by Transbonder, translated by Leah from the German
FOURTEEN
"Mom, why did you dress me like a baby?" I asked at breakfast while still
in my nightie.
"Actually it was more your girlfriends who did that."
"You know what I mean. You got out those things."
"Yes. I wasn't sure whether I should do it. Then I thought, it's just an
innocent game, and it has nothing to do with why my brother wore these
things."
"Nevertheless, I felt pretty foolish in diapers. Somehow humiliated."
"That's probably the reason that it's a fetish."
"And I thought, it would be because someone was overprotected."
"Both. But you can't understand yet, why adults dress themselves like
babies."
"I think I'll never understand that."
Mom appeared to approve of my answer. "Good, then you have exactly the
attitude that I like to see in you. But I have nothing against your
playing with your girlfriends again."
"Mom, once is enough."
"Oh by the way, the ten negative points are absolved. And you don't need
to curtsy any more. You learned that really well in such a short time."
"Thanks, Mom. I'm really proud that I got almost no more negative points.
Did you intend from the very beginning to dress me as a baby?"
"No, actually you were supposed to spoil me one day in which you did all
the housework."
"I did have some luck there," I grinned.
##
I put on the dirnl again. I liked it best of all. Next to the communion
dress it seemed the most feminine, which used to repel me rather than
attract. Whatever for. It was much more comfortable than the dress with
the crinolines. I could at most just once buy myself a blouse with long
sleeves.
And I needed more pantyhose - smirk. Because here only white ones would
do, and since I only had the thick cotton tights. White sheer pantyhose
would be just the thing. Or some with lace to match the blouse. However,
for today the cotton would have to do.
After I had thoroughly admired myself in the mirror, I asked myself what
I ought to do now. It was the second holiday. My girlfriends would be
involved in family affairs - or would they?
I called Biene. She was at home. After saying hi I asked, "What are you
doing today?"
"No idea. My parents are going on a family visit. If I can't think of
anything, I'll have to go along."
"What about a movie?"
"Why not? What's showing?"
"The Golden Compass. Ever heard of it?"
"Oh yes, that's a kind of fantasy film."
"Not just any one, but one with a message. At any rate the book had one.
It is rather critical of religion. The church has called for a boycott
even though that part's not even in the film any more."
"Where'd you learn that?"
"Just from reading the newspaper. Yes, and a little research on the
internet just to find out more. But although the country where the film
was made is always talking about freedom of speech, it always backs off
anything that is a little critical."
"Wow, Andrea, you can be pretty critical yourself."
"I wouldn't exactly call it critical. But let's let that go. Even if it's
been terribly watered-down, it's still a film worth seeing. I hope. At
least elaborately and expensively produced."
"OK, let's see it. Are we going alone?"
"I'd prefer it that way. I've lately not seen so much of my girlfriend."
"I'm not the one who's been constantly babysitting."
"Bienchen!"
"Hey, you know I don't like to be called that!"
"OK. But you deserved it."
Then Biene did something I've never understood. She changed the theme of
our conversation without any transition whatsoever. She did that pretty
regularly, and I could get pretty upset by it. If all women do that, then
I ask myself how has humanity survived till now.
"What should I wear?" asked Biene.
"No idea?"
"What do you have on?"
"A dirndl."
"A dirndl?"
"Yeah, don't you know what that is?"
"Of course I do." I was tempted to ask why she had asked, but from
related experience, I let it be. "A dirndl isn't appropriate for going to
the movie."
"Good, then what should I put on?"
"Not the pink dress."
"I'd never do that."
"What are you asking me then?"
That was the point at which I surrendered. I could not even with the best
of intentions imagine that in an acceptable time, say within vacation,
that we could come to a reasonable agreement.
I decided to to the same to Biene and simply change the theme. "I'll be
at your house in half an hour."
I wasn't sure whether I should ask Mom what I could wear. I really did
want to keep the dirndl on.
##
I am for sure not a girl, I thought, as I quickly decided to put together
an outfit with a long skirt. To quickly select something to wear, can be
done only by boys.
My black boots matched the long skirt splendidly. They looked downright
cool. Would it be possible to buy another pair of boots? I couldn't
always be putting on the same ones. Since I had to babysit tomorrow, I
would soon have some money again.
Proud of the superiority of my male ego I put on my pink cap and pulled
on the matching gloves. It was cold. Real cold. At least my new jacket
was nice and warm. And the fur was so soft. Have I already mentioned that
I like soft?
##
Biene hadn't managed to reach a decision in the meantime.
Sometime I had said, "It doesn't matter what you put on. It's dark in the
movie."
Oh, oh.
Need I say more?
In spite of everything we were at the movie house before the main film
began. Because the ads and the previews lasted over half an hour. But our
seats weren't the best.
I seriously considered whether I should ever go with Biene to another
movie. Then it got dark, Biene snuggled up against me and her hand
wandered under my sweater. For exactly that reason I'd not put on a
dress. Oh yeah, superior male intellect.
Ten minutes later I was convinced that I wanted to go to the movies with
Biene a lot. And the seats weren't bad either. Nicely off to the side...
Otherwise I wouldn't have dared to kiss Biene.
##
"Andrea, you are urgently in need of make-up repair," Biene said at the
break. Then came one of life's joys for girls. Ever try to get into the
girls' restroom at the break in the movies?
##
Biene and I had finally fixed each other's make-up in the foyer. As
though it made sense to bother. Minutes after the end of the break
everything was just like before. But girls always have to worry. Should I
have gone to the men's restroom to make myself up? After all I was a boy,
exactly in the right place.
##
When the film was over, I heard someone say, "These lesbians have no
sense of shame." I looked around, but couldn't spot anyone who might fit
the description.
Too bad. I'd have liked to see a pair of lesbians once.
Then I was able to talk Biene out of using the movie restroom. There was
already a long line forming at the door. Nothing at all in front of the
men's restroom.
Actually my first movie in a skirt wasn't much different than my earlier
visits. Just be sure not to wear make-up. And better wear something that
you can wear into the men's restroom.
For what it's worth, it didn't even help that it was dark in the movie.
##
The restroom in the hamburger restaurant was naturally overflowing, too.
I really couldn't have cared less about my lipstick, I was going to eat a
hamburger right away. But Biene insisted.
Women...
At any rate I now knew first hand why it always takes so long till they
come back from the restroom.
I found it terribly embarrassing when I had a diaper on recently. Now I
asked myself if that wasn't the lesser evil. Purely hypothetically of
course.
##
The fastfood restaurant was rather large. Toward the back someone was
running a karaoke contest. We joined them. All around us there were at
least thirty boys and girls of our age or a little older.
After we had listened to two songs, Biene thought that she could do it,
too. She registered. What I didn't see was that she filled out two
tickets.
It was her turn three songs later. She didn't sing badly, it seemed to
me. This just wasn't my type of thing. The original music was far better.
Then my name was announced. I looked at Biene, and she grinned sassily
back at me. This stinker! I let myself be led to the music stand and
someone pushed a microphone into my hand. On the monitor the text ran
across.
I knew the titles that Biene had chosen. They were our favorite songs,
and we had often sung the words together. I knew part of the text by
heart.
But singing along is somewhat different than singing alone. I was
unbelievably nervous and knew all at once what stagefright was.
Girls of my age often still have rather chirping voices. The last several
girls fell into this category. Or was it the sound system? In the belief
therefore that I needed to sing loud, I cut loose with full power.
Now voices of boys are more powerful. Even in young years long before
puberty the larynx is more powerfully built than in the case of girls,
which leads to corresponding strong voices. This gives a boys' choir an
advantage over girls.
I stood directly next to the loudspeakers for the background music and
didn't hear how strongly I sang. For professional appearances there is a
monitor box that takes care of that or you have a button-mic in your ear.
Naturally I had neither of those.
I don't think that I did the songs better than the girls. But my voice
projected outward, as I warbled the full emotion of my love song. After
the song was over, there was a strong applause, significantly more than
for the last performances.
What do you do in such a case? Blush, right. Flash! There were the
obligatory photos just as my cheeks were flashing red.
We had come very late to the contest, so that there were only two more
performances. Biene wanted to wait for the awarding of the prizes.
Then a young man took the microphone. "Third place: Sabine!"
There was applause. Biene collected her prize with a triumphant smile.
"Second place: Yvonne." A sweet girl fetched her prize.
"First place: Andrea. Applause for today's winner!"
Amid the applause I made my way disconcertedly to the front. The EmmCee
spoke a little, of which in my agitation I understood nothing. I got a
kiss on the cheek, my prize and a bouquet of flowers. More photos were
taken.
By the time I got back to Biene, I had rather weak knees. On the big
monitor I could see my picture. Good that I had taken special effort with
my make-up. I had wanted to looked especially good for Christmas and for
a date with Biene. And I looked good, the picture caught me in a very
positive light. Through the growing redness everything else just looked
that much more cute. I was the perfect average teenager. Unfortunately a
very feminine teenager.
I wasn't so confident about my sudden popularity and fled with Biene in
tow and wielding the flowers like a weapon.
##
Grr. My girlfriend won't kiss me goodnight because she doesn't want to
have to repair her make-up yet again. As though she wasn't going to wash
it all off anyway soon.
She just wants to look good for her mom. And because of the three
seconds, I got no more kisses. If her mom was still awake anyhow.
I've said it more than once: Women...
It had gotten quite late. Hopefully I wouldn't have any trouble with Mom.
##
I was in luck again. The prize and the flower bouquet saved me from a
mighty thunderstorm. It was good that Mom was a woman. A father wouldn't
have been diverted so easily by his curiosity.
Next morning I was up before Mom once again. It isn't fair when I have
vacation to wake up early. Sometimes I just couldn't stay in bed any
longer. In my morning robe and my new house slippers I went into the
kitchen.
Out of laziness I decided that today I'd try coffee again. I put on the
right amount for the two of us. Hardly had the machine stopped gurgling
when Mom appeared. She got the newspaper and we ate breakfast together.
Hmm, with enough milk and sugar the coffee wasn't bad at all.
After breakfast I went to my room to get dressed. I hadn't put away the
dirndl from yesterday and decided to wear it again. Yesterday I hadn't
really worn it very long. Then I went again to see Mom.
She had just gotten off the telephone. "That was Mrs. Weber. She sends
her congratulations."
"Congratulations? For what?"
"For your first prize, Dummy, what did you think?"
"How does she know about that? Did you tell her?"
Without a word she shoved the newspaper over to me. In the local section
there was a large picture of me. I felt hot and cold flashes run across
my back. Everyone would see that! The room began to spin around me. I
grasped my head with both hands to get the spinning to stop.
"Earth to Andrea," I heard sometime. I looked up and pushed the curtain
of hair out of my face. Completely on automatic I placed it behind one
ear in a very feminine gesture.
"I'm dead," I stated.
"Well, you still look very much alive, even if your attempt did seem
pretty genuine. I've never seen you so pale."
"Mom, what can I do? Everybody is going to read that. Everyone at school
will know that I've been wearing girl clothing."
"Now, maybe you should have thought about that before. I did warn you
that you would have to be careful."
"Mom, I didn't register for that, it was Biene. I have no idea why I won.
I can't really sing."
"Someone who can't sing, doesn't land in first place. Either you are good
or all the others very bad."
"It doesn't matter whether I can sing well. My life is destroyed!"
"Well, I don't think it's that bad this time either."
"Oh yes, Mom. I can't go to school any more." A picture of me shaped in
my head of me sitting in the pedestrian-only area behind a cap with a few
coins in it.
"I think you actually can. One solution, for example, would be for you to
remain a girl."
"Mom, I don't want to go to school as a girl. I want to be a boy again."
She looked at me as though I'd just uttered the grossest nonsense. Well
yes, in my sweet dirndl I didn't exactly look like a boy.
"Good, even if you go to school as a boy," she pondered unconvinced, "the
article hadn't really caused damage."
"What do you mean? I'm clearly and plainly visible. Dressed like a girl."
"I don't think that people will recognize you. You are accustomed to your
present appearance with long hair and make-up, but no one knows you like
that. I cannot imagine that someone would make a connection between this
picture and Andreas."
"But my name is there!"
"Just Andrea is there, without your last name. So far as I know,
newspapers can't simply publish names. Not of minors."
I looked at her sceptically.
"By the end of vacation your eyebrows will have grown back in. If you
really want to go to school as a boy, then you can't pluck them any more.
With short hair no one will think that it is you in the photo."
"Do you really think so?" I asked doubtfully.
"Yes. And now bring me the empty picture frame. I want to preserve this
article."
Not much later the article was framed and on the wall. I think Mom is
right, I pondered. On the picture it was just some girl looking out. Hmm,
I had really done the eye shadow very well.
"I'll be coming with you later to Mrs. Weber's," Mom announced. "We're
going to have lunch. Pack the dress for Mark and then put on the same
one."
No more glamourous appearances in front of an applauding public. Now I
had to change again into the little girl. Then a thought appeared: Should
I become an actor? I've already had some experience.
##
After the meal I stood at my closet and considered which dress I should
put on: the red one or the lilac one?
I decided for lilac. The red wasn't sooo bad, in it I could always walk
to Mrs. Weber's. The gleaming lilac dress of satin with its white lace
on the skirt was really something else. And since I would be riding with
Mom in the car today, I ought to wear the better dress. From the
princess-tights I selected the ones with pink-white-lilac rings. The
lilac matched the dress. Yes, even little girls have to wear things that
match each other.
Mom watched and grinned. Then she made two braids for me. Not like the
pigtails of the first wig behind my ears, but high above my ears. And
that way I looked completely authentic again - from head to foot, from
braids to glossy Mary Janes.
##
It was almost an atonement that one hour later I was no longer the only
one who looked like this. My younger sister was here again. Tina really
like her new dress, how could she not? And today she could pull on my
braids as much as she wanted. Unjust as the world is, she didn't.
Really strange what kind of thoughts a person has sometimes. Now I'm
complaining that no one is pulling on my braids. Grinning I pulled on my
braids like Pippi Longstocking. How much did I look like Pippi?
I noticed that I was being observed. I looked up and saw Mom and Mrs.
Weber looking at me, while I held my braids out horizontally. Each had a
broad grin on their faces. Oh, oh.
My premonitions were confirmed as I saw the two of them, giggling like
teenagers, sitting at the computer. Even from this distance I could
recognize a picture of Pippi Longstocking.
Why is it always me!
##
Two hours later it was time for me to earn my money. When Lena cried,
Mrs. Weber simply pressed her into my arms. One stinking diaper change
later she was somewhat more calm. Genuinely sweet only when she was in
her carrying cloth in front of my chest.
Then Tina had to show me something unbelievably important and pulled me
along by hand. Flash! went the camera, and Mrs. Weber said, "We must come
up with a matching dress for Lena, too."
Then the ladies ordered their meal. I sighed and set about living up to
my duties.
Mark decided that having Lena at my chest didn't hamper my freedom of
movement sufficiently. He snuggled up to me, then let his head sink
slowly farther and farther. Absorbed by my work I noticed the flash only
when it was too late. And I couldn't defend myself with two children
around me and dirty hands. Or could I? I threatened with the big knife.
That only brought forth the remark that little girls shouldn't play with
knives. And renewed the giggling.
When we left I was sure I had never worked so hard to earn my money.
Guaranteed that I would never take Mom along again.
##
I needed a moment to figure out that I was waking up from a dream. It had
been so real. I rarely have such genuine dreams.
In my dream I had been an actual little girl. And I loved putting on only
the prettiest dresses. In my sleep-induced condition I needed some time
to understand that I was not wearing a dress but a night gown. The
difference isn't all that great. My night gown was at least as sweet as
the dress, which I was wearing in my dream. Was that the reason for my
dream? Why else would a boy dream of being a little girl and really
liking pretty dresses?
I brushed my teeth and got dressed, still somewhat under the influence of
sleep. Only on my way into the kitchen did it become clear to me that I
wasn't in my dream any more. But I had dressed like I was - in the red
dress with the little white dots and the many flounces on the skirt, the
white bodice and the gigantic bow at the back.
What was wrong with my head, I asked myself. Couldn't I distinguish any
more between dream and reality?
Mom noticed my outfit only in that without speaking she made two braids.
I didn't bother her. I liked the times when the braids danced around my
head. It was a very agreeable feeling. And I didn't have to constantly be
sticking my hair behind my ears to keep it out of my face.
The early morning went by quickly with work in the house. Mom was very
happy that I helped. Once again I asked myself, what was the matter with
me. During fall vacation I had scarcely helped Mom, a computer game was
always more important. Now I giggled when the long skirt touched against
my legs while I was vacuuming and the braids tickled my neck.
My relationship to Mom had changed very much in any case. Even a short
time ago, there had seldom been physical touching; now I liked it very
much when I snuggled up to her on the couch.
I could still understand that. For boys it was uncool, for girls not.
Girls loved touching as they show in their many embraces. Boys don't do
that, at most they pound on the shoulder. That is just about the maximum
in body contact.
As I said, I now enjoyed bodily contact with Mom. Also, when she was
doing my hair. I really liked that a lot, I could purr like a cat when
she was doing that.
But why did I help Mom now so much voluntarily? Hmm. Maybe so that she
was in a good mood, and it was more fun to be together? Or, because she
had so much more time which we could spend together.
At any rate we were finished with everything by lunchtime. While eating
Mom asked, "It's been cold long enough, the ice on the pond is safe.
Shall we go ice skating a little later?"
"Are you serious?" I didn't really trust myself very much.
"Of course. You'll certainly look good in the dress."
"It's so tight. Do you really think that no one will see that I'm not
really a girl?"
"Let's give it a try."
I went to my room and undressed. Underwear, too, because a teddy seemed
safer to me. Over the teddy came the padded shorts, and over that the
special tights. They were black like a normal pair of tights, but
completely opaque and gleamed brightly.
As last came the dress. Actually it wasn't even a dress. It was a teddy
with a skirt sewn on to it. It was made of Lycra, and that was already
the first reason I liked it. The second came as I looked into the mirror.
I looked good - and sexy. But not too sexy, because in contrast to many
of my dresses this was fairly normal. I could detect under the yellow
lycra the black teddy underneath.
I had forgotten to put my breast forms into the cups. But even now it
looked as though I had small breasts. Actually enough for athletics, I
decided, then with a bad move they wouldn't be sliding around into
impossible positions.
With the padded shorts helping I had a nice figure. It wasn't just that
my backside was large enough, no one could see anything like a bump
whenever the tiny skirt flew up.
Yes, I could go outside this way, I decided. I presented myself to Mom
and she was positive, too.
When I put on my white iceskates at the pond, however, I was assailed by
doubt after all. I was really wobbly on the narrow blades. With bowed
legs I let myself slide a little. In spite of Mom's hand I quickly landed
on my well-upholstered derriere.
I had thought the abbreviated dress would be too cold. Now, that was no
problem at all. Constantly working to stay upright makes one warm.
After an hour things were better. I could glide across the pond without
falling. Naturally very cautiously. Now another girl came to the pond. At
first I was afraid to be seen. But she acted quite natural, skated very
capably a few laps. When she saw how little mastery of iceskating I
possessed, she helped me. She took me by both hands and skated backward
in front of me.
I wish I could do that, I thought to myself. But with her help I quickly
gained a better feel for my equilibrium.
After a further half hour I was finished. Once again muscles were being
used which otherwise were idle. And they protested now. I said good-bye
to the girl and we exchanged telephone numbers.
My legs hurt. Guaranteed that I wouldn't wear any high heels today. I
couldn't imagine being able to bend my legs enough to be able to put on
pantyhose. So I put on my morning robe and limped into the kitchen.
There was still coffee there and I got a cup. Mom started some new. I
felt very grown up as I slurped the hot drink together with Mom. That my
cute little night gown proclaimed something else didn't enter into my
mind.
After some smalltalk Mom said, "Andrea, the first week of vacation is
over. We have to talk about what's going to happen the rest of the time."
I looked at her without any comprehension whatsoever.
"In the last little while you have been behaving so naturally like a
girl, so that I am asking myself whether you really want to go to school
again as a boy."
"Why wouldn't I, Mom? After all I'm a boy."
"Well, you are still in puberty, and further development toward your
becoming a man can be prevented."
"I don't understand. Why shouldn't I become a man?" Up till now for me
that had been obvious.
"Andrea, I see how you have changed in the last few weeks. Very much for
the better, I might add. I'm asking now how durable these changes are."
"You mean my clothing.?"
"No." She looked at me frustratedly. "I mean, how you behave. Your
conduct. The way in which you relate to other people. And how natural you
are in a skirt or dress."
"I still don't understand."
"To make it brief, you act like a girl. As though you had always been
one."
I was shocked. I had after all just played a masquerade for babysitting.
"But I'm not really different from how I've always been," I said. And
added softly, "A boy."
"You are different. Have you seen yourself in the mirror recently? What
do you see there?"
"Andrea," I said in a weak voice.
"And you take pains to be Andrea. If I just look at your make-up." She
pointed to the framed newspaper article. "I could never do it that well."
After a pause she continued, "So my question is justified, how are things
going to proceed from here?
"I don't know, Mom. I haven't thought about it. After the vacation I
intended to go to school as Andy, like always."
"That is no doubt the problem - that you haven't thought about this.
We're not going to make progress this way. I think that you need to see a
psychologist."
"Mom, I'm not crazy."
She stroked my head lovingly. "No, for sure you are not crazy. You don't
just go to a psychologist because you are crazy. He supposed to help in a
more precise way to figure out whether you are a boy or a girl." Then she
added, "Even if you yourself don't already know."
Sherry
- 04.04.2022
- 7
- 0
