Julian - Part 2 free porn video

It was the knock on the door that woke me. "Julian," came Fran's voice from the other side of the door, "can I come in?" I felt a bit groggy so it took a few moments for my eyes to come into focus and make sense of the pink clock that sat on the wall. It told me it was 10am, which meant I'd only managed to sleep for a couple of hours. "Julian," Fran continued, still on the other side of the door, "are you awake?" Before I could answer either question the door swung open and she walked in. She had changed out of last night's clothes, and was wearing a pair of black cotton trousers and a white top which I assumed belong to Sara. She also looked like she'd showered because her hair was wet and pulled into a ponytail, which she only ever did when she'd just washed her hair. Sitting next to me on the bed, she let out a small sigh, "I'm sorry about last night Julian, it all got a bit out of hand." I didn't say anything, but I saw that she was staring straight at the discarded school uniform which was laying on the floor only inches away. "I'd had too much to drink," she added, "it was wrong." Then she ran her hand through my hair, and stood back up. "I understand if you're not talking to me. I really only came into to say that I'm sorry and tell you that we're about to have breakfast. Are you going to come down?" "I need my clothes back," I replied, slowly sitting up, the way the lace at the top of the nightie bounced against my chest a stark reminder of the predicament I'd gotten myself into. "Well I'm not sure where they are," she said softly, making for the door, "but come down as you are, it doesn't really matter. We'll get you clothes after breakfast and then head home." She walked out of the room, only to return again seconds later, "And we'll never tell any one about any of what happened last night, ok?" "I don't want to come downstairs dressed like this Fran," I pleaded, "are you sure you don't know where my clothes are?" "I'll find out, but come on we all saw you last night, it doesn't matter any more. Sara has made a fried breakfast and it's going to get cold." And with that she left the room again, and I heard her go down the stairs. I was definitely hungry, and I could smell the aroma of bacon and sausages from downstairs. I suddenly felt a little happier, Fran had apologised and the whole sorry episode seemed to be finished. I decided that she right, who cares about how I looked now - they were all probably more embarrassed about it that I was. I pulled the covers back, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. As I did so, I thought about how weird it was wearing a skirt and feeling air between your legs when you spread them. It made me appraise my appearance once more as I stood up and looked in the mirror. I really did look ridiculous, although it all actually felt a little more humourous than it had last night. I could feel the lace trim on the knickers digging into my waist slightly, but all in all I felt comfortable enough, if more than a little silly. Feeling altogether better about things now, I headed downstairs. The front room was still pretty untidy, and the coffee table was slightly askew giving another reminder of last night's antics. There was no one in the room, but I could hear voices coming from the kitchen so I went in. Beth was standing at the oven with her back to me as I did so. She was wearing a pair of black jeans and a long grey t-shirt, and she had also pulled her hair into a pony-tail. Where had they both found time to shower by 10am? Fran was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. "Good," she said, when she saw me, "sit yourself down here." She patted the seat next to hers and I sat down quickly, trying to hide my appearance as best I could. "Bad news Julian," Beth said, without turning to face us, "I don't have enough breakfast to go around. Fran tells me that you prefer cornflakes any way, is that ok? Disaster! The smell of fried food had really got my stomach going. "He can have mine," Fran interjected, "I'll have the cereal." "No, it's fine," I replied, trying to sound magnanimous, "you love your fried breakfast and I'm not that hungry." Fran gave me a little smile and started to read the newspaper again. We sat quietly for a few moments before Bethany walked in. Rather than wearing a nightie, she was wearing grey tracksuit bottoms and a long t- shirt like her Mum. It was then I realised that in a room of two women and a 13 year old girl, I was the only one not wearing trousers and with my legs on show! In fact, due to the nightie being pink and having lacy trim on the hems as well as heart patterns all over, I was undeniably the most femininely attired person in the room by a mile. Of course, Bethany commented on my appearance straight away, "you're still wearing my old nightie then Julia? It looks lovely on you!" She put extra emphasis on the word lovely and laughed at her own comment, before sitting down next to me. "Here you are then girls," Sara said, putting a bowl of cornflakes in front of Bethany and I. "Girls!" Bethany said, laughing, "that sounds about right." "Oh sorry Julian, slip of the tongue," Sara said, sounding genuinely apologetic, "I must have thought you were one of Beth's friends for a minute there." "That's ok," I replied, a little feebly. Once Sara gave Fran her fry-up and sat down to her own, I couldn't help but take in the situation. The two women were eating a hearty full English breakfast, and Bethany and I were making do with small bowls of cornflakes. I know I'd been offered the fry-up, but it still brought the whole scenario home to me again as I spooned up the cereal from the purple bowl. No-one spoke much as we ate, but I got the feeling we were all thinking about the night before. I finished first, and without thinking got up to put my bowl in the sink. As I did, I noticed Sara look at the way as I was dressed and I was certain I saw a tiny smile. It made me realise how desperately I wanted to get out of there. "Fran, do you still want to take a drive out to the outlet centre," Sara asked, as she finished the last bit of her breakfast, "I've heard it's really good." "Mmm, definitely," my wife replied, "what time does it open?" "I think it's 11, I'll check online though once I've washed up." Fran took a glance at me, "well there wouldn't be a lot of point going home then really. Is it ok if we just hang around here until we go?" "Sure," Sara answered, getting up now to put the dirty plates in the sink. "Hold on," I said, "I thought we were going home after breakfast?" "I know I said that, but I forgot that we were going to go shopping. Are his clothes ready yet Sara?" Sara shook her head before she spoke, "sorry, they're dripping wet." Suddenly I realised my own naivety, "You didn't wash my clothes last night!" I said, my voice rising a little with anger, "you never left my sight after you took them off me, so I can't believe that you found time to wash them." "Well, that's sort of true," Sara replied, "I didn't wash them last night, but I did put them in this morning without really thinking about it. They're washing right now actually." "Why did you do that!" I cried, "you must of known I'd need them!" "I wasn't thinking," she said, returning to the table and putting an arm on my shoulder as she took Bethany's bowl, "I'm sorry, ok." I swatted her arm away petulantly, and closed my eyes in an attempt to relax and calm down. "What about your ex-husband, did he leave any clothes?" Fran shot me a look as I asked this, obviously unhappy that I'd raised the subject of her divorce, but I didn't care. The answer wasn't good anyway, "Sorry Julian, he took everything. Plus, he was much bigger than you so I don't think anything would fit you any how." "I'll dress him again if you want," Bethany said, unhelpfully, "sorry, I meant her." "Fran, you said we'd go home. I don't want to sit around here like this any more." Fran looked at me and didn't speak for a few moments. She always did that when trying to come up with a solution. Finally she spoke, "I think you're over-reacting a bit Julian," she began, "I'm sorry that I forgot about going shopping but I don't think it's any big deal if you hang around here until we get back. It's not really any different to being at home." "Except I haven't got any clothes to wear," I argued. Fran let out a louder sigh, "who cares! We've all seen you dressed like a girl now, a few more hours isn't going to matter. Bethany - do you have anything remotely masculine that he could wear until we get back?" "Why does it have to be her clothes," I complained, "I'll just sit in the bathrobe that I found upstairs." "Don't be silly," Fran said sharply, "you'll catch a death in this cold. Bethany, he's a 26 inch waist, would you have jeans or anything like that?" "Only 26 inches!" Bethany said, shocked, before considering it for a second, "not sure I have actually, his waist is a little bigger than mine. The skirt worked last night because it's elasticated, but I don't think he'd fit into any of my jeans." Fran turned her attention to Sara, "what about you, have you got anything?" "Sorry, I don't really wear jeans or trousers much. You and I are wearing about the only two pairs that I own." "I know," Bethany said suddenly, "I've got an old pair of black leggings that would fit him. If we put that with a tunic top or something it wont look too girly." "That's sounds good Bethany, great thinking," Fran replied, "ok with you Julian?" "Of course not!" I was getting pretty angry again, "I don't want to wear anything else." "Fine then," Fran snapped, the loving tones of this morning a million miles away now, "you can stay in your little nightie. I'm going shopping whatever you do." "For crying out loud Fran, it's not fair." But Fran had gone, walking back into the front room and leaving me sitting at the table with Bethany and Sara. "It's only going to be you and Bethany here," Sara said, trying to calm the situation, "and we'll be as quick as we can." "I thought Bethany was going to go with you." "Ha, no chance," Sara replied, "Miss Bethany still has lots of homework to do." "Whatever," Bethany grumbled, "I don't want to go to that cheapo dump anyway." Sara turned her attention back to me, "Look, Julian, You know Fran better than I do so I think you know she isn't going to change her mind. Why don't you let Bethany pick you out some stuff to wear, she'll leave it on your bed and you get changed at your own pace?" "I'll go and find some stuff," Bethany said, getting up from the table, "give me ten minutes." "This is it though Sara, I swear it." "I know Julian, you've been a good sport," Sara said quietly, as she left the table as well. I gave it about fifteen minutes before I went upstairs and back into the feminine room that I had slept in last night. Bethany had taken away the school uniform now, but on the bed lay the outfit that she had picked out for me. I thought about having a shower, but decided I couldn't be bothered. Sighing, I pulled the nightie over my head and put it the washing basket that had been placed by the door. I examined the items of clothing that she'd left. First was a pair of pink and white knickers with heart patterns all over and trimmed with a tiny bit of lace. If anything, they were more girlie than the pair I had on, but I rationalised that it didn't matter because no-one would see them anyway. I took the old pair off and quickly put the new ones one. Next I picked up the leggings and held them up against myself. They looked tiny, but I knew from watching Fran getting dressed that they would stretch a bit when I put them on. It proved quite difficult actually, I didn't know whether to stand or sit to put them on, but eventually I managed to pull the waistband up and over the knickers. It was then that I noticed that they only went down to my ankle. I didn't know if this was the style of if they were just too small, but either way it didn't exactly help my look any more masculine. Finally I came to the top, or tunic as Bethany had called it. It looked more like a dress to me though. Holding it up against myself, I figured that it would fall to 3 or 4 inches below the top of the leggings so it seemed pretty much the same as wearing a short skirt. The tunic was red with white swirls and had very short sleeves, as well has having a little heart shape cut out at the front, which again made me think that Bethany hadn't tried that hard to find boyish clothes. I looked at the label inside it, which said GIRLS -11-12 YEARS. It sent another pang of self- loathing through me, but nether the less I pulled it over my head and let it slide down my body. The middle of the top was tapered slightly, which made me look like I had the beginnings of a waist. As I studied my reflection, Bethany barged through the door, "Perfect," she said excitedly, "I'm so good at dressing people." "It's a bit more, well girly, than you said Bethany." The girl wasn't listening though, instead she was moving around me and pulling the top into place. "I love the tie on the back of this," she said as she buzzed around, "I'll put it in a bow for you." And before I could remonstrate, she had grabbed the two ends and created a large bow, which now hung down my back. "I can't believe how much you look like a girl," she laughed, "I mean, you could tell someone that you're my younger sister and I think they'd believe us." As she said this, she stood next to me in the mirror. She was at least four inches taller than me, and given that I was actually in the more feminine attire, she was probably right. "Are these leggings supposed to stop at the ankle?" I asked, as she continued to admire her own handiwork. "Of course they are," she groaned, "oh my God, you might be dressed like a girl but you're still such a boy. Don't you know anything about fashion?" "Not really," I replied, "I just thought they were too short." "No, you're supposed to wear them with some cute ankle boots or something," Bethany's eyes lit up, "I can see if I can find some if you like." "No," I said quickly, "this will do I think. It's already a lot more like a girl than you said I'd look." "So I suppose there is no chance of letting me brush your hair or do your make-up then? Or letting me put any of these bangles and necklaces on you." She opened a box full of glittery accessories. I let out a snort of derision, "keep dreaming Bethany," I said, "not in this lifetime." Bethany moved away and sat on the bed, "they've gone out already you know." "Whatever," I replied, still staring at myself in the mirror. "Well, I've got homework to do. You'll have to keep yourself entertained until they get back." And with that she left me alone and went back into her room. I headed back downstairs and sat on the sofa. I couldn't help but constantly look at myself in the mirror and wonder what the hell I was doing here dressed like I was. Again I'd failed to stand up for myself and challenge Fran, and this was the result - another spell dressed as a girl. I'd never worn women's clothing before, and I couldn't get used to the subtle differences. The leggings made my legs look so small and thin, protruding as they did from the bottom of the tunic top. The fabrics felt different as well, much softer and lighter than I was used to, not to mention all of the trims and frills that rubbed against my arms and body and reminded me constantly of the feminine nature of my outfit. Eventually though I must of dozed off, because Bethany woke me with a start. "Hey, is baby tired," she mocked, coming into the room and sitting on the big reclining chair opposite. I didn't answer her. "What does it feel like then to be a man in little girl's clothes," she asked, leaning forward to see me more closely, "the knickers must be strange." I gave a non-committal shrug. "I think you must like it really," she said, with a dark grin on her face, "I think you're really a closet cross dresser and this is your wildest dream." "Well, you're wrong," I replied, trying not to get riled. "I mean, you could have walked out the door this morning in a bathrobe or something, but you stay here and let me dress you like that. It's weird." "You don't understand, it's more complicated than that." "Hey, I may be just a teenager but I think I can see what's going on." I looked at Bethany closely, she was still grinning at me and I was beginning to hate her more and more, "So why don't you tell me then Bethany," I spat, "if you're so clever that is." She got up and sat next to me. She started adjusting my top again before she spoke, "it's obvious really. Fran is the boss in your relationship and you don't know how to say no to her." I shook my head, "well, thanks for that nugget of wisdom. You're just so insightful." "It's true though," she continued, pulling away from me again, "you're a little scaredy cat around her. I mean, what man would let three women dress him up like a school girl? Or in a cutesy little top like you're wearing now?" "Just leave it ok, I don't want to discuss it." "You know that Fran and my Mum are lovers don't you?" The comment hit me like a tonne of bricks. I had suspicions after last night, but I told myself I was being stupid and put it down to drunkeness. "Oh my God, you didn't know, did you!" Bethany gasped, "it's pretty obvious. They even slept in the same room last night." "Women do that sometimes," I argued. "Eww, don't think so," she laughed, "you've seen how many rooms we have upstairs. Why not sleep in one of those?" I didn't know what to say. She was right of course. "Hey," she continued, a little more subdued now, "I'm not exactly pleased with it all. I don't want to be the girl with the lesbo Mum. I blame you though." "Me," I replied, incredulously, "how is this my fault?" "Look at you," she said, loudly, "no wonder she wants to be with my Mum when her husband looks like you! What the hell are you anyway? I hear you do all the washing up and ironing and stuff and let her treat you like a little woman!" "Where did you hear that," I asked, angrily, "that's none of your business." "Oooh, is Julia getting angry at me again, " she mocked, "careful, or I might have to arm-wrestle you." "That was a fluke," I raged, "I'm sick of the way you speak to me. You should be more respectful to you elders." "Elders! Ha! You should be more respectful to me, you silly little girly. I hear them at night you know, it's disgusting. All over each other, gross." "STOP IT', I shouted, "IT'S NOT TRUE." "Your wife's a lesbian, your wife's a lesbian," she taunted, "never mind though, she might be interested in you again now." I lost my temper, and uncharacteristically flew across the sofa and started to punch her on the arm. I don't know what had come over me - I'd never fought anyone in my life, but I was so full of rage. Bethany fought back straight away, and threw me to the floor, "Now you're attacking a girl. Real nice stuff, sissyboy," she said, as stood over me. I leapt to my feet again and we started grappling. To my surprise, probably due to just how angry I was, I found myself overpowering her now as I threw her to the floor. "SHUT UP," I cried, "IT'S NOT FAIR, THIS IS NOT FAIR." Just as I was about to let her go, she threw up her hand and scratched my down the left arm. A trickle of blood appeared, and I almost instinctively threw my right hand into her face, catching her on the nose. She screamed out in pain, as I felt a bone break below my fist. Immediately on hearing the sound I felt sick to my stomach and recoiled in horror at what I had done. "I can't believe this," she sobbed, "you've broke my nose." She stood up but wobbled on her feet. Without thinking, I reached out to steady her. "LEAVE ME ALONE," she screamed, "I'M CALLING THE POLICE." She ran out the room and I followed her, "Bethany, don't, please don't. I'm so, so sorry." "Oh my God, I'm in so much pain," she cried, "it's hurts so much." She ran upstairs, but before I could follow her the front door opened and the women walked in. "What's going on," Sara asked, "I could hear screaming." I hung my head, "you'd better go upstairs. I think I've broke her nose." "WHAT!" Sara yelled, as she dropped her bags and ran up the stairs. Fran followed her, but not before giving me a hateful look. Instead of going up as well, I went back into the front room and flopped onto the sofa, my arm stinging like mad. I could hear lots of commotion upstairs, and finally angry sounding footsteps coming down. It was Fran. She walked up to me quickly and grabbed me by the shoulders, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING," she yelled, "YOU'VE BROKE HER NOSE." "I'm sorry," I replied, "I didn't mean to." "But why, why would you hit her?" "She was winding me up," I realised this wasn't helping, "I know it's not excuse, but she said some awful things." "She's a 13 year old girl for Christ's sake. You're a man. You can't hit her." "I know," I mumbled, "I don't know what to say. Is she ok? Suddenly, Fran pulled me to my feet, "Right, you know what. If you're going to act like a little girl, I'm going to treat you like one. Come with me," she said, pulling me by the arm so quickly that my feet barely touched the ground. She pulled me upstairs and brought me into the peach room again. "Fran, please, I'm so sorry." "Enough," she said, sitting down on the bed, "pull down your leggings and come over my lap." "What, you must be kidding." "DO IT NOW," she yelled, "keep your knickers on." "Please Fran, I'm really sorry." "Stop whining," she said, and she actually pulled down my leggings herself, leaving me in only the pink and white knickers. Before I could react, she had pulled me over her lap and was hitting me hard on the backside. The pain brought tears to my eyes and my legs kicked out helpless on every hit. She must have hit me twenty times before she finally let me go. "Pull your leggings up, you silly girl," she raged. "I'm not a girl," I sobbed, "I'm not a girl." "Well, you're going to be treated like one until you've learned your lesson missy. And your next punishment is that your grounded for the rest of the day. You'll sit here and think about what you've done until we get back from the hospital. Is that understood?" I said nothing. "I asked you a question young lady." I stared into my wife's eyes. They were filled with rage. "I understand," I said meekly. Fran got up angrily, "I'm locking this door so you can't get out. You'd better just pray she doesn't want to charge you for this." "I'm sorry," I began to sob again, "I really didn't mean it." But Fran was gone, and I fell onto the bed in tears. It's was hours before I heard the front door open and the women come back in. I'm not sure how long they'd been exactly, but it was dark outside and the clock on the wall told me it was 9pm. I listened for the muffled sounds to try and understand what was going on, and I was relieved to hear Bethany's voice. She sounded ok, so I hoped her nose wasn't as bad as it had felt when I had hit her. More than that though, I was praying that Fran had calmed down. I didn't want another smacking. After around half an hour passed before the door finally opened, and I was surprised to see it was Sara, not Fran. Calmly, she sat next to me on the bed. "That was a terrible thing you did today." "I know Sara," I replied, sitting up next to her, "I've never felt so bad about anything. I'm truly, truly sorry." She seemed to ignore me, "Bethany is not going to press charges against you. I've persuaded her not to." "Thank you Sara," I said quietly. "But there is a catch," she continued, "Fran told me about the smacking she gave you earlier and it got me thinking. If you're going to act like a girl then you should be treated like one, so that's what I'm going to do." "What do you mean?" I felt scared. "Well, the only reason I can see for us not to get you arrested is if it was just a fight between two sisters that went to far. If it was a fight between and a man and a girl I'd have to call the police, wouldn't I? I kept quiet, finding myself nervously picking at the edge of the bed- sheet. "Stop that," Sara snapped, slapping my hand. I was stunned! It was one thing for Fran to treat me like a child, another for this feminine little friend of hers. "You didn't answer my question," she continued, "was it a couple of silly little sisters fighting or a man and a girl? I was trapped of course. "Two sisters," I replied, full of shame and self-loathing. "That's good," Sara said, brightening a little, "you finally understand. So you're going to be my daughter until you've grown up a bit and learnt some manners." She put her arm around me and continued, "not only that, you're going to be my youngest daughter, Julia. I'm turning you into an 11 year old girl until you show a bit of maturity. Do you understand that?" "Yes," I mumbled. "And you're going to be a pretty little girl because you'll be wearing lots of lovely dresses and skirts. Bethany never really let me buy clothes for her, but I'm going to put you in lots and lots of adorable outfits." Perfect. "I'd like you to call me Mummy from now on. Can you do that?" I looked across at her. She was staring straight at me, "Yes." "Well say it then." "Yes, Mummy'. "That's better," she smiled, "now Fran tells me you're a good little home-maker. That's perfect, because I hate the housework. So you can help me with that." I nodded my head. "And I'm going to give you a proper make-over tomorrow so you look even more like a girl. Do your hair up a bit, get rid of those little bits of body hair, stuff like that." "What does Fran say about this? "Sorry Julia, say that again properly please." I let out a tiny sigh," What does Fran think about this Mummy?" "She's all for it, but she doesn't want you to call her Mummy, that would be a bit strange wouldn't it?" "I suppose." "She's just gone round to your house to get some things. She's going to stay with us as well, but you have to call her Mrs Taylor, understand? I nodded again. "Good girl," she said, standing up, "now Bethany will be here all week as well because she can't go back to school, so you'll have to make sure you're nice to your big sister." "Yes Mummy." "So get out of bed then, and come downstairs for a bit of dinner." I stood up, and watched Sara move over to the dressing table, where Bethany had left the box of accessories from earlier on. "These are very pretty," she said, pulling out some sparkly bracelets, "let me put them on you." I held out my arm and she clipped them on, "very nice," she said, "sparkly accessories always make us girls feel a little bit more glam. You'll learn that Julia." Then, she took me by the hand and led me downstairs. Unsurprisingly for the second night in a row I didn't sleep very well. After dinner, which had been a pretty underwhelming offering of spaghetti on toast, Sara had taken me back upstairs and dressed me for bed. I suffered the ignominy of having to sit on her lap and she helped me get undressed and the shame of having her dress me in a pair of plain white knickers and a frilly nightdress. "Bethany would never wear this," she said, as she brushed my hair, "she said it was too girly, even for her. I think it's gorgeous though. Do you like it?" "Yes Mummy," I had mumbled, as she moved me back to the bed and then tucked me in. As I lay in the dark, listening to the clock tick on inexorably, I got back to thinking about my options. There was no two ways about it, I was pretty stuffed. If I ran away they might call the police, but staying meant becoming Sara's daughter for the foreseeable future. Which was worse? I found myself contemplating what Bethany had said earlier about Sara and Fran being lovers, and I came to the conclusion that the girl was right. I had noticed how they looked at each other but I wanted to ignore it, hoping it would go away or not really exist. I feared the pain of losing my wife hadn't hit me yet, and was being masked by the humiliation of the situation that I found myself in now. They were sharing a bed again I'd noticed. I thought better of saying anything. And then there was Bethany. She had annoyed me and teased me something rotten, but that was what teenage girls did. Who the hell was I to hit her? I'd never had a temper, never even considered hurting someone. What the hell had happened to me this weekend?