Little Sister
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My Little Sister free porn video
My Little Sister
Belladonna
The story of how I got my little sister is a lot different than most girls
I know. It's now quite a few years ago, but I can still remember the day
it all started so clearly.
I was a typical twelve year old girl then with a ten year old brother. We
fought, as siblings often do. I was the cheerleading, gymnastics, ballet
type of girly-girl my mom had brought me up to be, while my brother was
engaged in typical male pursuits like baseball, basketball and soccer. My
father wanted him to play football, but my mom was convinced that my
brother was too small for the sport. Regardless, my brother was never
really into any of the sports he played, nor was he any good at them.
Things started to change one afternoon after school when my brother did
not have a practice, and I was supposed to be at one of mine. My
cheerleading practice had ended abruptly when my coach and one of the moms
of the girls had to rush one of my fellow cheerleaders to the hospital
with a twisted ankle.
I did not call my mom to tell her to come pick me up because one of my
friend's mom offered to drive me home that sunny afternoon. I thanked her
for dropping me off before I walked inside and talked with my mother for a
little bit before I went up the stairs.
As I stepped into the carpeted upstairs hallway, I heard a noise coming
from my room. I crept towards my door that was slightly ajar. I could see
the light in the room was in on even though it was the middle of a bright,
sunny afternoon.
From that alone, I knew my little brother was in my room. He had pulled
down the shades to hide whatever he was planning and simply had not
expected me to come home so early to catch him pulling whatever prank I
was sure he was trying to pull on me.
I could hear him rustling around in my room as I reached the door. I stood
there for a second in silence as I heard the room grow silent. I smirked
as I threw the door open and shouted, "I caught you, you little twerp!"
My brother froze as he stared at me. I was unable to say another word as I
gazed back at him in shock. I shook my head slightly a few times as I
could not believe what I was seeing. My annoying little brother who teased
me about being so "girly" was standing in my bedroom dressed in one of my
cheerleading uniforms.
As I processed what I was seeing, I immediately thought back to the mock
cheers my brother came up with to make fun of me for being a cheerleader.
I smiled as I thought about the many times he called me "prissy" when he
saw the pictures of me in my ballet recital outfits.
The look in his eyes was a mix of shock and terror. He stood frozen where
he stood, unable to make a move or utter a word until I let out a laugh I
could not hold in any longer. I almost doubled over because I could not
understand what would motivate him to put on one of my cheerleading
uniforms.
I collected myself long enough to give him a mock cheer as little payback
for the all ones he had given me over the years, "Be a sissy, be, be a
sissy, bro," before I let out another laugh.
I grinned uncontrollably at my brother as I saw him trying to squirm and
pull the uniform off. As he did so, though, I caught a glimpse of my pink
panties.
"Are those my panties? You little freak!" I shrieked.
My brother froze and nervously pulled down on the hem of the skirt of the
uniform. His blushing face made me realize that his furiously shaking head
was lying to me.
Our exchange was interrupted by mother shouting up the stairs in response
to my shrieking tone, "Is everything okay up there, you two?"
I glared at my brother with a smirk on my face as I thought about giving
him up then and there, but I shouted back, "No, we're good, mom."
With my mom pacified for the moment, I turned my attention back towards my
little brother. I started towards him, and he backed up slowly until his
back was literally against my lavender colored wall.
Although I was only two years older than him, I had a good three inches on
him and was stronger than he was. That was something that I had taken
steps to demonstrate to him on more than one occasion when I felt he had
taking something too far in the past.
I gave him a menacing look as we stood a few inches apart. I clutched at
the sweater top of my uniform and recoiled as I felt one of my training
bras through it.
"You little freak," I said again before I found myself starting to laugh
as my confused anger dissipated into mere bewildered amusement once more.
My laughter ceased as I caught the ashamed look in his eyes. My
determination to make him pay for every joke about me being a "girly-girl"
broke down as I grew more focused on figuring why the hell he would even
want to wear one of my uniforms.
I asked him that, point blank. He just stared at me in silence as he
blushed.
His silence did not satisfy me so I pinned him to the wall and said, "If
you don't want me to call mom up here to see what you've been doing while
I'm out, you'd better answer me."
"It was just a joke," he lied.
"A joke? For who? You're the only one here," I countered.
His cheeks turned red again as I knew that he could not think of some lie
that would effectively conceal the real reason behind his actions. I
pulled at the sweater top of the uniform and snapped the training bra
against his chest as I smirked and asked, "Oh, are you growing boobies,
little sis?"
I could see tears starting to form in his eyes. His reactions were
confusing me. That was the moment I put it all together.
I realized that my brother's prior mockery of me was simply an act to
conceal the fact that he was jealous of me. He was trying to covertly wear
my uniform and underwear because he could not do it around anyone.
I moved away from him and stared vacantly at his face as I realized that
my brother's actions were anything but the joke that he was trying to play
them off as.
"Oh my God," I said in a monotone voice.
"What?" he asked with a nervous tremor in his voice.
I shook my head, unsure of how I should convey what I was thinking.
"I was just curious," he countered.
I could see the humiliation and fear in his eyes as he desperately came up
with that poor attempt at deception.
As I listened to him I thought about the times I had found the dresser
drawers containing my intimates askew and that my clothes in my closet
were not where I remembered leaving them. I had figured that my mother had
been searching my stuff for things she felt I was too young for. I knew at
that moment, however, that it was my little brother all along.
I was in a state of disbelief as I asked him, "How long have you been
doing this?"
The question took him by surprise. I could see the wheels spinning in his
head as he frantically tried to come up with another lie.
"Don't lie to me," I responded forcefully after my question was met by
silence.
"I'm not lying," he retorted in a low, soft voice that conveyed his weak
position.
I then told him about all the times I had found my things askew. I could
see the fear in his eyes as I recounted them. He knew I had finally put
two and two together.
"It was mom," my brother responded after I finished.
"Then why don't we go ask her," I said as I grabbed his wrist and pulled
him towards the door.
"No. Wait. Please," he said before he dropped to his knees before me.
"I'm getting the truth one or the other," I responded.
That's when he admitted that it had been him. He told me about what he had
done and how ashamed he was to have put on my clothes so many times when I
was not home.
As I listened to his confession, I felt more than a little pity for the
boy. I promised him that I would keep his secret, and I even told him that
I would help him with it. He was not sure what that meant at the time, but
the first time our parents left us alone when they went out together, he
got the point.
Shortly after they left, I offered him the chance to pick out an outfit
from my closet to wear. He was a little bit hesitant to do so, but with a
little prodding, I got him to pick one out.
I gave him a pair of my panties and a training bra and let him get dressed
in the outfit he picked out before I came back in and did his makeup. He
was on cloud nine throughout the whole thing. I enjoyed it so much that it
almost didn't feel strange to me. I had to admit to myself that I liked
our relationship a whole lot better when he was my little sister instead
of my little brother.
This went on for a few more weeks before mom came home unexpectedly early.
Neither of us heard the front door open or close when mom came home early
from her shopping trip.
She was walking up the stairs when she heard us laughing at some
television show and gushing over the dress the actress was wearing. To
this day, she never told me what went through her head when she heard my
brother saying he wanted one just like it.
All I know is that she pushed opened my bedroom door and peered inside.
This time, my brother and I both froze. There was no hiding that we were
sitting on the bed watching the TV dressed up like two normal girls our
age.
The look on my mother's face was pure shock. I don't know what I would
have done if I had been in her shoes and saw my son sitting next to his
sister with a silver butterfly clip decorated with rhinestones in his
hair, dressed in a long sleeved white graphic top, a black tiered skirt,
black tights and silver flats with a rhinestone and faux pearl covered
thin strap at the vamp.
What could you really say if you never saw it coming? I understood her
response, even then.
Mom screamed at both of us, "What the hell?"
I stared at her in silence with a slack jaw, but my brother was able to
answer her, "Mom, I can explain."
"I'm waiting to hear it young man," she yelled back as she glared at him.
She had taken care to emphasize her use of the word "man" to describe him.
I could see how much the term hurt him, even though he knew it was what he
was expected to be. We are all taught that boys are not supposed to be
girls. While a girl can boyish, a boy cannot be girlish.
I decided to fall on the grenade for him as I responded, "It was my fault
mom."
They both stared at me blankly for a moment before I explained, "I made
him wear that stuff because he was teasing me about being a girly-girl
again."
My mom shot me a disbelieving look, but she was ready to force herself to
believe my lie if it meant that she would not have to deal with the truth.
She started to scold me. She told me that I was screwing up her son and
that I should leave punishing him to her and daddy.
It took a few minutes, but my brother finally ended her admonishment of me
as he declared in a meek voice, "Mom, she didn't make me do it."
A bewildered look replaced the angry one on her face. She looked at him in
silence as he tugged on the hem of his short skirt.
"Then why are you..." my mother started to ask, but stopped, knowing full
well that she did not want to hear the answer.
My brother blushed furiously as he told her that I had caught him in my
cheerleading outfit and that we had been playing dress up games ever
since.
"Did you ever think what your father would say about all this?" My mom
shouted in response.
My brother gulped as he answered, "Yes, that's why we kept it from you
two."
It would be years before my brother admitted to me that that was not the
whole story. It turned out that my father had caught him doing just what I
caught him doing a few weeks earlier when I had been away on a school
trip. Rather than punishing him, my father let it slide, provided that my
brother made sure that neither mom nor I ever found about it. I wish he
had told me, but I understood why he did not. I really have to give my
father credit; he certainly handled it better than most guys I know would.
My brother's response, however, did not appease my mother. She was furious
that we were covering up my brother's weekly girly-girl sessions. She
could not understand how he was so willing to let me make him over and act
like my little sister.
She stormed out of the room after she ordered him to put his own clothes
on. He scurried out of my room to comply with her demands, scared of the
consequences of not doing so.
I sat on my bed with my chin between my bended knees, wondering if I had
done something wrong by trying to help my brother out. I heard my brother
close the door to his room before I got up and headed towards the top of
the stairs.
I could hear my mom on the phone as I reached the staircase. She was
talking to some psychiatric office about scheduling an appointment for my
brother. I felt my stomach sink as my deliriously confused mother kept
speaking in frantic non-sequiturs as she tried to secure the earliest
appointment possible for him.
When she hung up the phone, she headed back towards the stairs. I raced
through the hallway and back into my bedroom. I pretended to have not
heard a thing when she came into my room and asked me to join my brother
downstairs.
We followed each other down the steps and sat in the kitchen as my mother
explained her telephone conversation with the psychiatrist. He had told
her that he could not diagnosis my brother over the phone, but he believed
that he could help with the situation.
My brother gave me a frightened glance as he wondered just what kind of
help the man would provide him with. My mother told us that she had made
the appointment, which only seemed to make my brother look even more
worried.
I tried my best to console my brother after my mother dismissed us from
the room, but he was too messed up by the whole situation. He suffered in
silence for days as he waited for his first trip to the psychiatrist's
office.
When the day finally came, mom left me home alone while she took him to
the office. Daddy didn't even know about it. We had to keep it a secret
from him. Mom was even paying the psychiatrist in cash to avoid an obvious
paper trail for Daddy to catch.
I waited for them to return by the front door with an anxious feeling in
my stomach that stayed with me from the moment they left. From the look on
mother's face when she got out of the car, I knew that she did not get the
answer she was looking for.
I asked how everything went, and my mom politely brushed me off. Her
response spoke volumes to me, so I followed my brother up the stairs and
asked what happened.
He told me that the doctor was not sure if he was a cross-dresser or a
transsexual based on his responses. That either was an option was
something my mother evidently had tremendous difficulty accepting.
The psychiatrist told my brother and mother that he should be allowed to
explore his cross-dressing so that he could make the determination for
himself. I told him that was great, but he was a bit nervous about doing
it when mom was home.
I brought his concerns to my mom's attention, and she went and spoke to
him. I'm sure she was not upbeat when she told him that he could follow
the psychiatrist's recommendations until their next appointment, but she
made it clear that he could.
My brother came into my room after that and told me what she said. I
hugged and I told him that everything would be okay. He smiled at me; it
was a half smile though. I could sense his despondency about even wanting
to put on a dress again after what my mother had put him through.
As I pulled out outfits from my closet to entice him to follow the
doctor's advice that my mother had begrudgingly accepted for him, however,
he came around. He dressed up almost every moment that my father was not
around the house after that while we waited for the weeks to pass until
his next appointment, which was scheduled for the day after my parent's
anniversary.
I enjoyed the time I was able to spend with him after school when I was
not out with my friends or at cheerleading or ballet practice. It was a
lot nicer to have a little sister around than a little brother who was
trying to over compensate for desires he thought were wrong.
I realized how much he wanted to be like me the more time we spent time
together. We would look at clothes girls were wearing on the TV and online
and rate them. His tastes were very similar to mine, and I even had him
pick out an outfit out online that I told mom was for me. Of course, I
wore it once to try to fool her before my brother basically took it for
himself.
My brother was still sensitive about his situation though. I learned that
not long after I let him wear one of my old recital costumes with a pair
of my pink tights and toe shoes. I thought back to the insult he had
hurled at me when I wore that same costume two years earlier and asked
with a smile, "So, sis, who's prissy now?"
A scowl appeared on my brother's face as he blushed and instinctively went
to take off the bell sleeved, tunic, chiffon dress with a princess seam. I
was surprised by his reaction given our friendly rapport. After I
processed his response, I hugged him and told him that I was just joking.
He nodded to me, but I could sense that I had stoked the fires of his
self-doubt. He ended up taking off the costume and putting his boy clothes
back on.
It took a few days before he was able to work up the nerve to ask me to
let him wear some of my clothes again. I was happy to see that he had been
able to put his belief that his desires were wrong aside again even as my
mom had been actively favoring him when he was wearing boy clothes after
she had acted so distant towards him whenever she saw him wearing my
clothes.
We talked about what he wanted to wear, and we settled on an outfit
consisting of my blue turquoise, ruffle dress and a pair of white sandals
with a one inch block heel. He put the outfit on, and I could see him
start to beam as he looked in my vanity mirror at the dress's sweetheart
neckline and how its spaghetti straps looked on his shoulders before I
gave him a blue and white headband with a sequined bow to pair with the
outfit.
He smiled at the headband that I had caught him silently admiring the day
before when I wore it. He placed it on his head and we went downstairs.
Mom hung her head as she saw us. I think my brother's girlish giggling
with me was like a knife into her heart. Her hopes that he had gotten it
out of his system were dashed and we both could sense the irritation in
her voice as she asked us what we wanted for dinner.
We told her, and she turned away from us as we started playing a game
together on the computer. We were so wrapped up in it that we did not hear
the front door open.
We turned as we heard our father peer around the corner and ask, "Kids,
where is mom?"
We stared at our father in silence as he gazed back at us in disbelief. He
clutched the flowers in his hand close to his chest.
We had never expected him to be home so early and neither had mom. We
later learned that my father had decided to come home early, a day before
their anniversary, to surprise mom with a nice dinner at a fancy
restaurant.
Mom turned a corner in the hallway and caught my father's dumbfounded
expression.
"Honey, what are you doing here?" she asked nervously as she rubbed her
neck.
While the flowers in my father's hand were a dead giveaway as to what he
was doing there, she was desperate to change the subject even though my
brother's appearance had yet to be raised.
Daddy asked to speak with my mother in private. They went to their room
and talked for a good half an hour while my brother and I waited. The wait
felt so much longer than 30 minutes. It felt like days to me as we watched
the clock while we waited for my father's reaction.
He came down with my mother. He had an expressionless look on his face. He
had his arm round my mother's shoulder as he told my brother that he
supported the psychiatrist's recommendation and that he did not have to
hide what he was doing around him.
I could sense that my father was concerned about my brother. It was not a
judgmental concern though. My father did not seem to have any scorn for my
brother. He did not seem to look down on what he was doing or wearing the
way my mother did. He just seemed to be worried for him. I would learn
later that those worries had to do with those outside of our home and my
mother.
That my father was so much more accepting of it than my mother was a shock
to me, but I was happy that we had at least one ally among our parents. It
made it all seem more bearable.
Daddy hugged us and asked Mom if she could finish fixing a meal for us and
get ready for her surprise anniversary dinner. Mom was never one to pass
up my father's invitation for a fancy meal she did not have to cook, so
she whipped together something simple for us as fast as she could before
she ran upstairs and got ready.
Daddy helped us clean up in the kitchen and acted as if nothing was off
about my brother. I almost could not believe it. I noticed how at ease my
father put my brother by simply not saying anything about how he was
dressed.
Mom came back down wearing one of her nicer dresses and told Daddy she was
ready to go. Daddy gave her a big smile and complimented her. He then made
sure that my brother and I both told her how good she looked as well.
With that, my father escorted her to the door. As she walked out the door
my mother called back to us, "I expect you two to be in bed when we get
back."
"Okay, mom," we responded in unison.
"Have a good night, girls," mom responded. We saw her come to a stop as
she realized what she had said. My father hugged her and closed the door
behind them before he led her down the steps of the front stoop.
I turned to my brother and asked with a smile, "So, sis, do you want to
learn how to walk in heels?"
That boy beamed and pulled at the hem of his dress as he replied, "Sure,
sis."
I led him up the stairs as we headed to my room for what I knew would be
the first of many more lessons I would give him.
Angelica
- 22.10.2020
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