Andy
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Andy 20 free porn video
Andy by Transbonder, translated by Leah from the German
TWENTY
Mrs. Weber was astonished to see my mom, but Mark was just that much
more enthused about my outfit. He ran his hand across my delicately
glistening legs while Mom talked with Mrs. Weber in the kitchen.
When we went into the kitchen he crowed happily, "I want a skirt like
this with pleats. And shiny legs like this."
I rolled my eyeballs. Then I reminded Mark that his favorite program was
on the air. While he watched the speaking sponge in fascination, I told
the two women what had happened.
"That's not really a problem. He just wants to be like his larger ideal.
We'll get that straightened out quickly. Can't you just come in jeans?"
Mrs. Weber asked.
Oh man, why do the catastrophes come one right after another? How am I
going to talk my way out of this?
Luckily Mom came to my rescue. "That's exactly what I wouldn't like."
Mrs. Weber looked at her curiously, so she continued, "We had a dispute
about the art and manner of how girls dress, and quite especially of how
she dresses. That's why it will be only skirts and dresses for her in
the near future."
Great evasion, I thought.
"Oh, I understand." She almost looked at me in commisseration. "It
probably wasn't a good idea anyway, since colorful girls' pants aren't
really any better. Perhaps I ought to get a boy as a babysitter."
Always when you think things can't get worse... I had to sit down
because I was getting dizzy. I had really worried about being outed as a
boy and now she wanted one? I'd thought she would only hire girls?
I could scarcely imagine Mrs. Weber accepting me if it were now to turn
out that I wasn't a girl. That just couldn't be allowed to happen! The
more I thought about it, the more I slid into panic.
That spared me a bit from going deeper into the subject, because both
were alarmed at how pale I was all of a sudden. And I really did feel
awful. I had to concentrate hard so that I didn't get a second look at
my lunch.
In spite of everything Mom didn't say anything, nor did she make any
stupid insinuation. That restored me so that I felt better shortly.
##
Somewhat later, however, Mom came back to the subject. "I don't think
that it will help if you replace Andrea with a boy."
I could have kissed her. Mom's the best!
"That probably won't help Mark lose this predilection," she continued.
Mrs. Weber nodded in agreement. "He sees boys every day and it doesn't
change anything about liking girls' dresses. If a boy came here, he
would just find another girl as a model, for example on the playground."
"What can be done then?" asked Mrs. Weber.
"We ought to discuss that, but only after we've decided on supper. I'm
in the mood for something tasty. Then Andrea can get busy."
Grrr. I wanted in on the discussion. Can a person buy another mom
somewhere? Or trade?
##
But in contrast to my first reaction, preparing supper was fun again,
especially because Mark was helping. His enthusiasm quickly rubbed off
on me. Now Mrs. Weber saw for the first time how he worked with the
large knife, and her eyes grew large. I motioned to her to remain calm,
and in fact she didn't say anything. But she looked over at him again
and again. As always he survived without injury. Anyway I was of the
opinion that small knives are more dangerous.
Naturally I didn't hear anything of the conversation. But I could easily
imagine that it would have consequences for me, too. I could only wonder
to myself, which ones? Would Mom then want me not to dress as a girl any
more? I couldn't really imagine that. For one thing, right off a new
wardrobe would unavoidable.
But what did I really want? I put the pot into the oven and looked down
at myself. Sticking out from under the soft pullover was the very
coarsely-woven skirt about which Mom and I had had our discussion. She
thought it was too short. But I thought it was cool, how my legs in
their shimmering black tights emerged from it. And I hadn't missed the
opportunity to wear my pumps, too. If I got to ride in the car with Mom,
I had to take advantage of that.
Then we all ate too much and the women had to take some time to recover.
Our conversation just dealt with everyday stuff, and when we finally got
home it was so late that I still hadn't learned anything.
##
While Mom operated the coffee machine, I got the wrapper with the
tablets and pressed one of the little pills through the foil. I examined
the tiny pill reflectively. Could something so tiny have so much
efficacy? I hadn't noticed any effects up till now. Nothing much had
been going on with my breasts. Mostly just that they were somewhat less
sensitive and no longer so hard. But not much change. Maybe it was
simply the frequent use of the cream.
When Mom had left for work, it occurred to me much too late that today
my first class was gym. And I was excused from it. Crap, I could've
slept some more. Mom drove to work in some distraction, because she
didn't know whether the problems there had been cleared up.
What to do? I decided to look around in our little fashion shop. I
needed new stuff. Contrary to my resolution, to buy myself some clothes
for school, I landed immediately in the women's department. The reason
was a sweater that was displayed there. I almost thought that my vision
was blurred, it looked so strange. As though it had no permanent shape.
I carefully ran my hand over it. The soft outline was created by
innumerable fine hairs, which stood out like fluff or down. It was soft,
so unbelievably soft, such as I had never before experienced. The hairs
on the outside were like a fine aura, which projected more than a
centimeter toward the outside. You couldn't tell exactly where they
stopped. It was more a virtual appearance than something real.
I was in love. This was the ultimate piece of clothing created
especially for me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it.
A nearby voice startled me. I had concentrated so much on the sweater,
that I hadn't noticed the saleslady.
"Pure Kashmir," she said. "That is something really special."
I could only nod. I had to have this sweater!
"Unfortunately it's not so inexpensive," she continued. "189 Euros."
Every trace of color left my face. Here I had found the ultimate dream
sweater, only to find that it was expensive beyond belief.
"So much?" I asked in a shocked undertone of disbelief without looking
at her. I ran my hand over it one more time as though in farewell. A
very difficult farewell.
"Yes, Kashmir is unfortunately very expensive."
Now I turned away from the sweater and looked at her.
"Say, don't I know you?" she asked.
I looked at her more closely. No, I'd never seen the woman before. "I
don't think so," I responded.
"Oh yes, and now I think I know where. Just a moment." She walked into
her office and returned with some kind of catalog. She opened it and I
saw that there were many pictures of girls in it. Then I also saw the
label on every page: "Becker Agency."
She paged around a little and then she was holding a picture of me in
her hand. "That's it, I was positive," she confirmed it to herself. "I
had already chosen you to be among the finalists."
I didn't know what to say. Did she actually want me as a model?
"I'm making a small catalog," she explained. "We import these sweaters
exclusively from South America. For this we naturally need a model,
because the catalog is supposed to reflect the quality of the product."
She saw that my glance rested longingly on the sweater again, as soon as
she mentioned it. "Do you like it a lot?"
I nodded vigorously. I was almost ashamed of myself to show my emotions
so obviously.
"Good. I'll make you a proposal. The official prices are not exactly low
for a small firm such as mine. If you model for a few photos, then
you'll get the sweater as payment. That way we both gain. Do you
understand?"
"I- I would really like that..." to have the sweater, I'd intended to
say.
"Teriffic, then we can do it right away. Do you have an hour's time?"
Completely dumbstruck I nodded.
##
I managed to get to my first class right on time with my new valuable
possession in a bag. Naturally Svenja had to look at it right away
without asking.
"That's completely off the charts!" she said, as she took the sweater
out. "I've never felt something so unbelievably soft."
"Kashmir," I explained cooly.
"Wow! I'd like to have one like that." She looked at the price tag,
which was still fastened to it. "189 Euros! That's surely not for you?"
I looked around cautiously. Other girls were looking at us curiously.
"No, naturally not; it's for Mom. I just picked it up," I lied.
She bent over and whispered in my ear, "That will alsolutely never fit
your mom. But it looks like it's exactly your size."
I nodded because nothing else occurred to me. "I'll explain it to you
later," I told her softly.
"OK, but as compensation I want to put it on."
##
Since Mom was at work I went home to Svenja's after school. Naturally I
wanted to put on the the sweater, too, since I hadn't had a chance yet.
The whole day it had been next to me in the bag, and I could scarcely
wait.
But now I had bad luck again, because Svenja was wearing it. "Hmmm..."
she raved.
"Hey, that's my sweater!"
"So what? No way you can afford that. Did you steal it?"
"Svenja! I'd never do that!"
"Don't get excited. I didn't really think so. But tell me now: How did
you get this lovely creation?"
"I modeled."
"Modeled? What do you mean by that?"
"Well, yes. I haven't told you about that. It was in vacation, when you
weren't here. I got a flyer from a model agency in the mail after I had
won the karaoke contest."
Svenja's eyes grew bigger and bigger. "Won a contest? Agency? What kinds
of things do you do when I can't look after you for a few days?" she
said grinning. "I'm all ears, tell me!"
"Svenja, it's a longish story. I don't have that much time; I have to go
babysit right now."
"Fiddlesticks. You can wear something of mine and get yourself ready,
then you just need to put your wig on in a jiffy when you get home."
With that she opened her clothes closet and began to throw things to me.
I saw that there was no other way, if I wanted to leave here with my new
sweater. And so I went into the bathroom and put on my panties. Once I
had on the bright red panties I went back to her and picked up the bra.
"Your breasts have gotten a little larger, haven't they?"
I nodded. "They're not hurting so much either."
She felt them very carefully. "A bit softer, too, I think. It looks as
if they have gotten somewhat broader."
"I think so, too. They aren't quite so pointy any more." And then I put
on the bra which was just as red. "Do you have anything I can put in
there?" Then I added, "Something soft!"
"For Christmas I got a pair of snuggle socks," she said, while she went
to her closet again. "In pink!" she added, as though that was the worst
thing in the world. Then she threw them to me.
"Oh, these are really soft," I replied in fascination. "Really fleecy."
For a short moment the sweater was forgotten. I rolled them up and put
them into the bra. Very comfortable. But too light. Well, it would do
until later.
While I related my experiences at the contest, I slowly put on Svenja's
things. Red pantyhose. I'd never seen any like them before, just black
and nude. I thought my legs looked great in them with the barely
transparent red.
"Why don't you wear these yourself?" I asked Svenja, interrupting my
story.
"I'm a pants girl," she explained. "You know that already."
"And I'm a pantyhose boy," I giggled. "Or is that a skirt boy?"
She looked at me strangely. "Do you know, even when you're just wearing
panties, I haven't thought of you as a boy."
I didn't know what to say to that. To avoid an uncomfortable silence or
a deepening of the subject, I went on with my story.
While talking I pulled a gray dress made of sweatshirt material down
over my head. The upper part was just like an ordinary sweatshirt, then
came a wide elastic waist and it ended in a bell-shaped skirt. Before it
hadn't looked all that great, but once it was on, it was super. The
elastic waist conjured up a figure for me which didn't really exist.
I really wanted to ask Svenja why she didn't wear something neat like
this herself, then I saw the expression on her face. When I hesitated in
telling my story she said, "The dress looks great on you. You can keep
it, the pantyhose, too. In exchange I'll keep your sweater till
tomorrow."
"Aw man! I want to wear my sweater, too."
"For babysitting? You're crazy! Now tell me everything."
Finally I was finished telling and had Svenja's mom's pumps on. Not
exactly my taste, because with the not-very-high tiny heels they looked
pretty old-fashioned. But the rest was good, including an absolutely
beautiful quilted jacket, which just reached to my waist. A cap covered
my short hair.
It was already getting late and so I had to rush. At home I just quickly
put on the wig, there wasn't even time to put in my breast forms. The
bra sat tight enough, so that it wouldn't slide upward. Svenja wore a
slightly smaller size than I did. And in the bodice of the dress that
wouldn't attract attention.
On the way to Mrs. Weber's it now occurred to me that as a matter of
course I had put on a friend's clothes without thinking about it. And
she had given them to me exactly in the same sense. Not too long ago
that would have appeared completely incomprehensible to me; also the
self-confidence with which I walked along the street in a skirt. Not
even the noise of the shoes bothered me, far from it.
Mrs. Weber greeted me, "Oh, another new Look? I have to say, I like it."
"Me too!" yelled a young voice, allthough he could hardly see me yet.
Mrs. Weber rolled her eyes. And her eyes came to rest on my shoes. I saw
that she didn't like them, although she only just gave herself away.
Well, I didn't like them either. They just didn't fit in with the rest
of my things. Not that they would have matched anything of mine. On the
way back I would trade them at Svenja's for my new sneakers, because I
needed them for school.
My stay passed without event until Mrs. Weber's return. Except that Mark
wasn't happy with my load of homework and constantly disturbed me. Which
of course only made it take even longer. But there was no way he wanted
to admit that.
When Mrs. Weber returned she pressed a box into my hands. "I noticed
that your shoes don't really fit your clothes. Try these on once."
Curiously I opened the box. Inside was a pair of gym shoes - except only
at first glance. These shoes actually had high thin heels like pumps.
With high expectation I tried them on. Perfect fit. She had to have
bought them for me, and somehow knew my size.
They went perfectly with the laid-back casualness of my dress. Simply
super! Which is exactly what I said several times. She seemed to
appreciate my reaction. "It makes me feel good that you like them so
much."
"But - you just bought them for me!" I said reproachfully.
"Sure. I wanted to see you happy."
Yet another 'But' lay on my tongue. Instead I walked over to her and
hugged her, which she gladly accepted.
Then I went to Svenja's. It was rather strange walking in these shoes,
because the heels were equipped with rubber caps. Therefore they were
not only quiet, but also somewhat unstable. But the good fit compensated
for that as well as the slip-proof sole up front.
Svenja met me at the door. "I've had a hard time with my parents," she
said sadly. "I can't let you come in. Here are your clothes and shoes."
She handed me a bag.
I gave her the box in which her mom's shoes now lay. "Oh, new shoes?"
I nodded.
"You'll have to tell me about them tomorrow. They look really neat; I've
never seen anything like them."
"How about my sweater?" I asked. She was still wearing it.
She just smirked and closed the door right in my face.
##
Mom was really surprised when I got home.
"Can it be that I've simply not seen these things in your clothes closet
yet? Have you been shopping?"
"No, Mom. I don't know how it's happened, but today I've gotten
something new from everybody."
As I took off my jacket I saw Mom's disapproving look at my shoes. I
knew at once that in her mind the heels were too high. Sighing I sat
down at the kitchen table.
"OK, tell all," she challenged.
Today seemed to be reserved for tales and new clothes. And I hadn't even
a single time gotten to wear my new sweater with which it all began.
##
On Friday morning the little pill reminded me that I had to go to the
psychologist again. The usual daily routine was that I was to change
clothes right after school.
"Mom, do you think I can go to the psychologist as a boy?"
"Why would you?"
"Otherwise I have to come here to change and it is in the opposite
direction."
"Hmm, it would actually be better for you to go as a girl, because
that's how they know you."
"But I can hardly do it and get there on time."
"Can't you change at school?"
"Mom! I just can't let anyone there see me as a girl!"
As was not to be expected otherwise, she sighed. But she didn't say
anything. After some thought she said, "Maybe it's not a bad idea at all
if he were to see you as a boy. Then he'll have a better picture."
I didn't like the idea of being seen there as a boy. But I had no better
solution. Other than to change someplace, and for that I'd have to drag
along the clothes all day. And changing clothes in a public restroom
wasn't really very enticing.
##
As always the psychologist was completely professional. Even at the
reception desk no one looked twice when instead of Andrea Andreas showed
up.
"Did you go to the endocrinologist?" was his first question.
"Yes. Now I'm taking a pill every morning."
"Any side-effects?"
I shook my head. "I've noticed neither effect nor side-effect."
"Good. How are your breasts?"
"Not so pointed as they were and they don't hurt as much. But in these
few days nothing much has happened."
"Assuming you could take another pill with which they would grow faster,
or one with which they would disappear again. Which would you take?"
And with that began an intensive conversation, which left me bathed in
sweat.
Once again I was in such a confused state of mind after that, that once
again I missed my bus.
##
Saturday morning. Finally things are getting better. It wasn't just that
I could finally sleep my fill, but after such a long time I could wear
my new sweater.
I didn't put on anything underneath it to be able to enjoy the exquisite
softness directly. In spite of the fluffy appearance you could still see
my breasts. Now why were such little things so noticeable?
Searching for a matching skirt I figured out that I actually had several
items I'd never had on. Above all from the clothing package that Svenja
had bought me. And so I found another jeans skirt, two-thirds of which
consisted of pleats. And stylishly short. That it would annoy Mom again
went without saying, but I didn't want to dress like a grandma. And the
skirt looked especially sharp.
That brought back to mind the whole little-girl-dress business. Since
then the closet had become almost overstuffed. Making a split-second
decision I cleared those dresses out. Enough playing the little girl, I
was a big girl now.
It never occurred to me to think of myself as a little or big boy. How
should I do that considering all the things in the closet.
The box in which my ball gown had been was empty, since that dress now
hung in the closet. Why did it, because I sure didn't know, when -and
whether- I'd ever wear it again. I picked up the box and laid the
dresses in.
As I did that I thought about how Kai had kissed me. The dress brought
back the memory. Strangely enough it didn't seem SO terrible any more. I
really couldn't explain my panic at that time any more.
Somehow it wasn't different than with Biene. A kiss between boy and
girl. Or was it? Was I in that case now the girl or not?
I went into the kitchen and poured myself a coffee from the thermos. It
was becoming clear to me that it wasn't just here that something had
changed. A short time ago I couldn't stand coffee, now I really enjoyed
it a lot. Even if with milk and a lot of sugar.
Mom wasn't to be seen, and so I indulged myself in my thoughts. Did my
changed attitudes have anything to do with the conversation with the
psychologist? In any case he had given me lots to think about with all
of his questions. There was for sure one clear result: I didn't simply
accept things any more; I asked questions about everything.
I didn't ask the question any more about the final result of whether I
was a boy or a girl. I preferred to clear up one problem then another.
And now I asked myself, after the original shock had dissipated, would I
let myself be kissed again?
After some brooding I gave up. I would simply let happen what might.
"Finished with breakfast?" Mom's voice came from the hallway.
"Yes."
"Good." She came on in. "We have to go shopping. You finally need some
new underwear; we can't keep going on like this."
It was clear to me that she didn't mean the lingerie that I had on now.
I had enough sexy lace panties.
"Change. We can't go buying you underwear if you're still a girl."
"Aw Mom, I just put on this terrific sweater. I've waited for this a
long time."
"Then you'll just have to be able to wait longer. Tomorrow you can do
that the whole day."
Unenthused I changed clothes and cleared off the make-up I'd just
applied. And then the unpleasant trousers. How could Svenja really like
those?
"Why don't you just buy me something?" I asked when I got back to Mom.
"Because you would then complain that it wasn't soft enough. It was
already bad enough before you grew breasts."
"Mom, you did say that you don't have so much money? How about the new
car?"
She smiled in a relaxed way. "Certain things have happened at work. My
superior isn't there any more; he had been involved with some dirty
business. I now have his position. And that means not only more money,
but also a beautiful company car."
"That's super terrific!" I impulsively jumped up and hugged her.
##
Buying underwear for boys simply isn't any fun. There's nothing
provocative or pretty. No lace or frills, no bows, no outrageous shapes
or colors. Everything more or less the same. And everything not soft.
I'd long since lost my patience, and slowly Mom wasn't finding it fun
any more. I already wanted to suggest that we go to the girls' section,
when we happened upon the sport department. The underwear for athletes
caught my eye.
In contrast to everything that I had seen today, this wasn't made of
cotton. Right at the first touch I was enthused - that felt soft!
The signs informed me that this was a special man-made fiber with
particular qualities such as being very good at drawing off sweat. I
tried on a T-shirt and I thought it was first rate. Nothing scratched,
everything was wonderfully soft.
Mom was immeasurably relieved that we had finally found something.
However, because of the high price, she only bought three sets.
I could hardly believe that now I was so happy to have boys' underwear.
Before I started brooding too much, to my great relief it occurred to me
that this stuff was just for school.
Trisha
- 24.07.2021
- 9
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