Andy
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Andy 21 free porn video
Several days had gone by in which nothing unusual had occurred. It was
the weekend and I was using the opportunity to spend some time with
Biene.
She was doing better, but still had a strong limp.
"My mother wants me to go to school again starting Monday," she said
sullenly.
"And what does the doctor say to that?" I asked.
"He wanted me to go last week already," she pouted. "I wasn't using my
leg enough. So I have to have these stupid injections every day."
"Shots? Pain killers?"
"No. Against thrombosis." Then her face darkened. "And I have to jam
them into my tummy myself, too."
"And why don't you move more the way the doctor wants?"
"Because it hurts?"
"But then you wouldn't need the shots any more and it would heal
faster." This wasn't the first time we had spoken about this, and now I
really understood the situation.
She just made a face.
"But that means you can come on the field trip Tuesday."
That didn't seem to raise her enthusiasm. "I've been there already."
"Me, too," I answered. "But they are always showing new things."
"How are a few old houses supposed to change?"
"Have you really been there before?"
"Yes, with my parents."
"And did you see the demonstrations?"
"What kind of demonstrations?"
I shook my head in disbelief. "Nobody really can miss them."
"You don't know my parents. We basically went straight into the
restaurant. We sat there for an eternity and then we left."
"But you missed quite a bit. They show a lot of things, how pottery is
made, materials are dyed, and even how beer is brewed: you even get to
taste it."
I told her some more about my last visit and Biene got more interested.
Finally she said, "OK, that's enough. Tell me any more and it won't be
any use to go." Her smile showed me that she didn't really mean it.
##
On Monday Biene did in fact come to school. She was already walking a
little better, but still limped significantly.
On Tuesday we went on the field trip to the outdoor museum. About this
time - in the middle of winter - it was actually closed, but for large
groups like school classes they made tours anyway.
The trip by bus just lasted a few minutes. In the pale light of the
gloomy winter day the museum village didn't look particularly inviting.
But that was because the stores and souvenir shops were closed.
First we were divided up into several groups. Naturally I was in the
same group as Svenja and Biene.
All of the houses were ancient buildings that somewhere in the region
had been in the way of new building plans and had therefore been
transported here. Now you actually felt as though you had been
transported into another time.
Old plows and other implements showed how laborious it had once been to
work the fields. There was even an old pig sty which included living
inhabitants. The farmer's gold mine was present in the form of a manure
pile, at that time practically the sole possibility of fertilizing the
fields.
In the next building they showed us a plant which we were supposed to
guess. Naturally no one knew it. It was flax. Step by step they laid out
how a thread is developed, which can be spun into linen and finally
dyed. By a yellow blossom which colored the material blue.
I thought it was kind of interesting. But it wasn't just on that account
that I didn't really want to go to the next building, 'cause it was cold
outside. Unfortunately no snow, just a real fine spring rain that would
hardly make you damp, but was at the same time unbelievably cold. Worse
than having freezing temperatures.
I was just paying attention to getting as quickly as possible from one
house into the next, and so I didn't see the shove coming. Totally
unexpected I found myself in the gold mine again. It stank horribly. I
quickly pulled myself together, but couldn't spot the culprit. When the
others quickly put distance between me and themselves I looked down at
myself. I was completely soaked with a brown mush. It stank.
But what was even worse was that the wet clothing was very cold. I was
completely at sea about what to do next. I shuddered indecisively a few
seconds until our lady guide took the initiative.
"All of you go into the next house, the seamstress is there." While my
school mates slowly set into motion, she said to me, "We'll go back to
the dyer. He has warm water."
I just nodded, because I was shaking so hard that my teeth chattered.
Speaking was out of the question.
"Wolfgang," she called after we had entered the house, "someone has
fallen into the manure pile."
The person in question stepped forward out of the background. "Oh my
God, you got a full treatment. Last time it was just one leg." It didn't
make me feel much better to learn that I wasn't the first one to have
made acquaintaince with the manure pile.
"Go in back to the large cauldron and quickly take off your clothes."
I nodded agreement with chattering teeth and went to the back. Soon I
was just wearing my undershorts. Even they had brown spots.
The older man said to me, "You don't need to be embarrassed, girl, no
one will see you here. I'll just get some more cold water just in case
it's too hot, but it'll be a great bathtub temperature. Just leave your
panties on, you can take them off in the water."
"Girl?" I thought in surprise. Well, my shorts didn't have a slit
opening and my penis was put back between my legs as a matter of habit.
That meant there was no lump to be seen. But then I looked at my two
small breasts upon which now stood two iron-hard tiny nipples. That was
probably enough for the man to see me as a girl in spite of my short
hair.
While he was dealing with the water I stood in front of the open fire
which was heating the cauldron and warmed myself as good as I could.
Furtively I examined my unusually protruding nipples. It was just a few
millimeters, but absolutely different than earlier. And they felt
different, too, rather hard. Quickly I took my hand away again as though
it had touched upon something forbidden.
Meanwhile the man had added several buckets of cold water to the hot in
the cauldron. He tested the temperature with his elbow and announced,
"Madame, your bath is ready."
I didn't know why, but I didn't correct him. Above all, the warm water
was much more important. Carefully I stepped into the water. At first
the temperature seemed too hot for me, but that was only because I was
so cold. In just a couple minutes I was lying contentedly in the
cauldron, which was just large enough to serve as a provisional bathtub.
Now the man handed me something. "Unfortunately just common hard soap,
nothing for a great lady." The rascal's eyes sparkled. "But at the same
time, homemade from the best of ingredients. Guaranteed without
preservatives or any other admixtures."
He left me alone again. Indeed I did manage to remove all traces of
brown stains. And I also removed my underpants because I wanted
everything touching me to be freshly washed.
Now I felt myself halfway like a human. I'd stopped shivering some time
ago, but now the hard nipples had also disappeared as though they had
never existed.
Then the man came again. "I'm sorry that we don't have enough time for a
thorough immersion, madam. But I have here a blanket. Donated by our
rabbits and spun by Erwin. Not exactly an angora, but nonetheless very
soft."
The blanket was indeed beautifully soft. Much better than the stack of
paper hand-towels with which I had been drying myself off as good as was
possible.
Once I was wrapped in the towel I went to the man. Without shoes the
floor was very cold. But that problem was now solved as well; he gave me
a pair of felt slippers. "That's homemade, too," he announced with
pride.
Now I was really feeling better, but other than the blanket I didn't
have any clothing. My smelly clothes had disappeared, for which I
couldn't blame him. Just the contents of my pockets were still present.
"What am I supposed to put on?" I asked. Somehow it came out more
complainingly than I actually felt.
"We'll find something," he said. Then he snooped around a bit and added,
"Be back in just a moment."
It was actually several minutes before he returned. "First off just
underpants," he proclaimed.
"Also homemade?" I asked. Of course I wasn't being serious.
"For sure," he grinned. "From the same sheep that your shoes came from."
I pulled on the shorts under the blanket. The wool was pretty scratchy
in contrast to the blanket.
"And then I feared that the bath wasn't adequate in exterminating all
the odors. I have here some blossom attar distilled from the flowers of
last spring and summer."
Riiiight, I thought. Is there anything here that hasn't been homemade?
He gave me the little bottle and under the blanket I frugally placed a
few drops in strategic places. I didn't want to smell too much like
flowers. When I gave him the vial back he opened it again and let a few
drops fall onto my head.
"Hair smells the most," he explained. "Hard soap is for sure no shampoo,
and at the end of your bath the water wasn't clear any more."
Now I smelled the scent. It was a genuinely beautiful flower fragrance,
which really was nice. But completely inappropriate for a boy.
Giving off a nice fragrance I walked the short distance to the next
house, where my schoolmates were listening to a lecture. I tried to keep
as much space between myself and them as possible, so that my new scent
wouldn't be detected. In vain, as I noticed in the case of one girl. But
she didn't say anything.
"Ah, there you are," said a woman in a peasant constume. "Your accident
has given us the possibility to show how people dressed in those times.
You'll now see," she said to the students, "what a festive day costume
looked like."
I really didn't want to servce as a living fashion doll. Above all not
standing half naked in front of my classmates. "Oh, don't you just have
pants and a sweater?"
"Sorry. We only have articles here, which we make during the
demonstrations. Just the men wore pants in those days, but they wouldn't
really fit you." She pointed to a life-size figure, which was dressed
like a farmer. And it was at least a foot-and-a-half taller than I. I
could have best used this garment as a tent.
"But the festive day costume would probably fit you perfectly, and I can
demonstrate it."
I looked at the one other figure in the room. It was just about my size
but represented a farm wife. My classmates were noticing what was going
on. Several of the girls were giggling and I saw a fat smirk on Peter's
face.
"But..."
My protest died beneath the woman's explanation as she held the clothing
pieces high. "Farmers lived here back then; they were naturally not
clothed so finely as the people in the cities. Nevertheless their
festive day costumes were splendid. Here you see a part of the normal
lingerie. Do you know what that is?"
I observed the bright piece of clothing sceptically. If I didn't want to
go home wrapped in the blanket, then I was going to have to put it on.
At first glance it looked like a chemise, but with laces attached.
When no one said anything, the woman continued, "That is the foundation
garment. At that period it was high fashion, that the women should have
very small waists. In the cities corsets were the style, but here in the
country no one could afford one."
Now I was aware of the purpose of the laces, which were attached to the
chemise.
"In those days it was a matter of habit to lace down the waist. Even in
our fairytales that is spoken of. Does anyone know of one of them?"
After a short pause one girl said, "Snow White?"
"Very good," the woman answered. "The evil queen intended to kill Snow
White by lacing her too tight."
Now I too dimly remembered the story, which I'd heard many times as a
small child.
"Here," she said to me, "pull that over your head." And she handed me
the chemise.
Hesitantly I grasped it.
"Put it on!" called someone from the group. I think it was Klaus.
What was I supposed to do? That was unequivocally a piece of women's
clothing. I couldn't put that on in front of my classmates! Or could I?
What alternative did I have? Just the blanket, and that wasn't enough
for getting back to school or home. And then there was the problem of my
breasts. No one was supposed to see them. At least I didn't have my
toenails polished today as I had so often recently.
The woman seized the initiative and turned me facing away from the group
so she could with one swinging motion take the blanket away.
Suddenly just standing there in my wool undies I pulled the bodyshaper
over my head. That way only the woman saw my little breasts, and was now
convinced that I was a girl at the beginning of puberty. At least my
upper body was now covered.
"Who would like to lace her up?"
Klaus volunteered right away. With that fat smirk he moved to my back
and began to work. The guide corrected him. Then I felt how the
stomacher narrowed around me.
"Such a bodyshaper is just made of linen, but it can still be laced
well," she explained.
Yes, I noticed that.
"A corset distributes the pressure evenly through the stays, therefore
you have to be careful here," she explained to Klaus. "Quite evenly!"
she admonished him.
It was getting tighter and tighter around me. Slowly panic began to rise
within me. I wanted to say something, do something, but I just stood
there. All my thoughts could only be about this unbelievable pressure
around my abdomen.
Klaus was visibly having fun, although he was breathing heavily. It was
apparently an exertion, although this thought appeared only for a
second, then it was squeezed away by the foundation.
"Still a few centimeters," I heard her dimly. Even tighter? I had
alreadly been almost divided in the middle. My breathing became labored.
I just concentrated on getting enought air.
She thought naturally that I was a girl. And girls have no waists. But I
wasn't a girl. I hoped this was going to go okay! I was afraid of
becoming unconscious.
"Don't go day dreaming," the woman said to me suddenly. I think that for
a moment I had stopped thinking.
But now it wasn't getting tighter. It obviously couldn't because I was
divided into two parts.
But how could I still be alive? I clearly felt that I was breathing.
Plainer than ever before. Every breath was a pronounced experience. I
was living from breath to breath.
Did Klaus want to kill me? He wasn't really such a bad fellow. And this
woman, she didn't look at all like a murderess.
Slowly my thoughts cleared, as I learned to breath differently. Just
with the upper body. Suddenly it was working quite well. I was once more
aware of my surroundings.
But right away my glance went to my chest. It looked really odd as my
chest rose and sank heavily. I suddenly remembered an old film, in which
the heroine also looked like this. Naturally with a pair of beautiful
breasts, which were at least partly exposed to view. I had always
thought this extreme rising of the chest was just for show. Now I knew
better. It was necessary to survive.
Another few moments and I was feeling astonishingly good. Apparently the
bifurcation hadn't succeeded. As a test I moved one foot. It really did
still work.
Only now was it clear to me that I was no longer standing up. I was
sitting on a stool and was just getting my second stocking pulled on.
How had I gotten the first one on? No idea.
From the bodyshaper several pieces of material hung down. In the seams
of the long stockings were buttonholes, in which those pieces of
material were fastened to hold up the stockings. It looked rustic and
clumsy. And I had always thought long stockings were sexy.. But these
stockings weren't made of nylon, not even from cotton. Linen and wool,
the peasants didn't have anything else. So these were wool stockings,
but quite a bit nicer than my ski socks.
I was now in feminine underclothing, but in my eyes I didn't look so
feminine. No bows, no frills, no lace; nothing that I connected with
feminine clothing.
But now came the next piece of clothing, and it was unmistakably
feminine. A skirt. Some kind of petticoat made of linen. It even had
some lace at the hem. Through the material around the waist ran a cord,
which now was pulled tight around my unbelievably narrow waist, then
knotted.
But before I was really conscious of all this, that I now stood before
my classmates in a skirt, my first underskirt was being installed.
Several minutes later I was wearing five underskirts. In comparison to
these the petticoat was relatively lightweight and above all light and
airy. The five underskirts made of linen were downright rigid.
Now followed an attractive white linen blouse. And finally at long last
the dress. I already was wearing so much that I really didn't need
anything else. At first glance the dress looked black, but it wasn't.
While I attempted to come to grips with so much material, the woman
explained, "Back then colors were expensive. From the color you could
calculate how wealthy someone was. For such a dark blue as is the case
with this dress, the material had to be dyed repeatedly. Therefore even
well-to-do people who could afford it, only wore such garments for
special occasions. This dress was created for quite a special occasion,
it is a wedding gown."
What, I was wearing a wedding dress? At least it wasn't white. Still I
heard several girls giggle. I preferred not to look, I could imagine
what the faces of the boys looked like.
But I wasn't yet fully dressed.
"This garment appeals to the eye," she explained. "But it is really just
a weskit, the lacing is just decoration."
I was enthused to learn that there wasn't going to be any more lacing.
Still, the colorfully embroidered weskit emphasized my waist. It was the
first piece of clothing that really appealed to me. Probably because it
was so similiar to today's garments. I could easily imagine myself
wearing something like it babysitting. Naturally without the foundation
garment under it. But would it fit then?
"Bright red dresses were reserved for dignitaries, because red was
extremely expensive. But even with beets it was possible to dye textiles
red, and every farmer could do that."
A red apron was tied around me. Then a shawl of the same color with long
fringes was laid across my shoulders.
"Much the same as it is in Islam today, back then it was inconceivable
for a woman to wear no head covering. Only young girls didn't need to do
that. For the most part, you could tell a woman's social standing from
her headwear, whether single or married. This here is a typical bridal
bonnet, everyday wear was different. Or simply a headscarf for the
maids."
As she spoke a white bonnet was placed on my head. Under my chin it was
fastened with a bow.
I really wanted to see myself now. But there was no mirror. I just felt
my extremely tightly laced waist and the quanitity of material that was
fairly rigid. I scarcely dared move for fear of some of the things could
break.
For the first time I looked out at my classmates. I'd feared that they
would now laugh at me.
However, nothing like that happened. I saw a variety of emotions:
amazement first of all, because this clothing was so unbelievably
strange - as though from another star.
But there was also one girl with something like envy; she probably would
have liked to put on this clothing herself. So unjust is the world; I'd
have gladly put on her clothing right away in exchange.
But in this world it was not a problem for me to be dressed as a
farmer's bride, while a pair of girl's jeans would have been
unacceptable. Above all the very soft-looking sweater of the girl drew
my interest. Not as good as as my awesome Kashmir, of that I was sure,
but clearly better than the vast quantity of linen around me. And woolen
underwear wasn't all that agreeable either; I was constantly tempted to
scratch. Apparently I had gotten sufficiently accustomed to the tight
lacing that I was now becoming aware of the scatchy underwear. Well OK,
after all, the wool was from the local sheep, not some crazy breed out
of who knows where.
I only thought that I was finished dressing, now came the shoes. Little
boots with a heel like today's cowboy boots. But different from the
cowboy boots, they fit closely like socks. And astonishingly enough they
fit quite well.
I felt - strange. To be dressed again as a girl was nevertheless
something completely different. Not only because I was wearing clothing
from the century before last, but above all because I was standing in
front of my classmates. And I wasn't home yet.
The feel of the clothing was unreal. The tightness, the unusual
undergarments, the many layers, the stiffness. And to be wearing
something on my head in a room. I think that was actually the most
unusual thing. In spite of the tight foundation garment that I now
didn't perceive as so terrible. Compared with all the other sensations
it didn't stand out so much.
For a few minutes the woman still talked about my dress, then we were
released to do whatever we had in mind. Now I didn't stand there in
front of my classmates but rather among them. And I didn't know what I
should do.
After a few moments of strange silence Peter said, "Wow, Andy, you have
enormous courage. I could never do that."
I didn't know what I should answer, so I finally said, "Thanks."
Next Biene came limping up; she managed to get her face under my bonnet
to kiss me. I had to think that I had now found a husband. (German
language joke about bringing a woman to wear the bonnet signifying
marriage.)
What is it that makes a kiss so intensive? In a moment all my tenseness
drained away.
After the kiss was over I thought, 'Now if she had only been dressed as
a farmer's son then we could get married.'
A moment later I couldn't comprehend what I had just thought.
##
My high spirits about being so positively accepted by my classmates was
swiftly dampened by the entrance of our teachers.
Everyone present had figured out how I was dressed as a demonstration.
But my teacher saw me in a dress now without knowing anything about what
had transpired.
I just saw how his eyes got big when he recognized me. At least he did
recognize me, that in itself was something of an accomplishment.
"Andy?!?"
At least he didn't say Andreas, and Andy could have stood for Andrea. I
really didn't want to know how the people here would react when they
knew that I am not a girl.
"I almost didn't recognize you," he continued.
Why was there no mirror here? I just saw gobs of material bursting forth
from an unbelievably small waist. And for some reason I had breasts. Not
my little ones, which were always there, but bigger ones.
Then it dawned om me. This foundation garment shoved everything that was
in any way shovable out of the way. What that meant for my mini-breasts
was that they received support from everything else. And additionally
everything below was much smaller, which strengthened the effect.
Should I say something? I began. "Ahhh..."
Svenja got into the act. "Andy was so brave in showing us how these old
costumes look. I find it really neat, I wouldn't want to be wearing this
bodyshaper." While speaking she reached her hand around my waist by way
of demonstration. I found it amazing how far around she could reach.
No it was the teacher's turn to answer. "Ahh..."
Yes, I had gotten at least that far.
After a couple moments without any communication I decided it would be
best to disappear. But that wasn't going to be so simple, since walking
was a completely new experience. I had to move countless layers of
rather stiff material. But I managed.
The biggest problem was that everything was so unusual. But with every
step I unconsciously adjusted my movements. I did succeed in getting out
of that house before he could say something embarrassing.
But that was fatiguing. For the first time today the cool weather
outside was welcomed. I really did have enough material around me not to
be cold, even my head was warm. I certainly wouldn't want to be wearing
all this in summer. I had quickly learned not to take such long steps,
so that I wasn't constantly tripping on my many skirts. My quick little
tripping steps would normally have been the occasion for laughter, but
dressed this way, few were even aware of it. Although the skirts "just"
reached down to my calves.
In just a few seconds I had reached the marketplace. Not a good idea,
because the rest of the class was there. Supposedly our teacher had come
to bring us to the whole group. My performance had probably lasted
longer than planned; everyone else was already finished.
Naturally no one recognized me. Not only because nothing other than my
face framed by the bonnet was left of me, but I wasn't moving the way
Andreas would have. So each person just saw a costumed person who had to
belong to the museum.
But no one really believed it was me. "That's supposed to be Andy?
Never. He wouldn't put on a dress," I heard spoken several times in some
form or other.
I found that rather interesting. Everyday I had a skirt on for more time
than pants, and now no one wanted to believe that it was I in the
dress?!?
But before I could let the cat out of the bag, Svenja jumped in again to
bring the curious folk up to speed.
In the meantime I had completely forgotten -- where was Biene in all
this? I had intended to look out for my lame girlfriend, and now
everything was turned upside down. Maybe it was actually good that I was
looking for her with my fluttering skirts, that way Svenja had more time
to explain everything thoroughly.
I really needed to return the favor to her, I thought, as I frantically
ran back with my fussy little steps. Without my two girlfriends I would
really be lost.
It turned out I needn't have worried, because here was Biene running
toward me. Running! Literally. As though she never had had a broken leg.
A moment later we were in each other's arms as though we had survived
the end of the world. Or maybe not, and there was no tomorrow. But
nothing had really happened. Apart from the fact that I once again
looked like a girl, and a bride at that.
For me the one and only important thing was to feel her. Her nearness,
her soft words, her kisses. By the time we finally parted, I had
completely forgotten how I was dressed.
Stevie
- 18.09.2021
- 15
- 0
