Our New Daughter Evan I mean Ellen
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Our New Daughter Evan I Mean Ellen Chapter 3 - The Morning After free porn video
Chapter 3 of the Ellen Saga, many thanks to Trish who wrote the majority
of this portion of the story for me, Hope everyone enjoys the story feel
free to comment with any suggestions on this part of the story or the
story going forward or email me if you prefer [email protected]. Much
Love
CHAPTER 3 - The Morning After
I don't know if I slept a wink. I stayed in this half-awake dream state,
tossing and turning all evening with the events of the night before
rolling through my mind. Periodically, I'd fight back a tear as I
murmured "Why?" under my breath. "All this for skipping a stupid
presentation at school..." the thought would stay with me through my
sniffling. "No one to blame but myself, but why this?"
The sensations of the panties and nightgown only served to increase my
discomfort. Part of me--you can guess which part in particular--would
become aroused involuntarily at the feel of the soft materials in which I
was dressed. But the arousal would subside as my mind turned to the
gravity of my situation and an impending sense of terror. "What will
tomorrow bring?" I asked myself in fear. I was scared to my core. My
father's anger and delight in deriding me. My brother's absolute glee at
being designated man of the house and watching me being taken down a peg
(or two or three or five). But my mother's reaction to the situation was
the most troubling; the quiet acceptance and tenderness toward me.
So I lie there. Wondering what I had done wrong. Wondering how I could
fix things. Wondering if I should pick up the horrid cell phone they'd
given me and call the police or something. Wondering, wondering,
wondering until I could see the sun was coming up and dreading the day
ahead.
I was jolted upright when I heard my mother "Ellen! Time to get up
sleepy head!"
"Sleepy head?" I thought. "Don't you have to actually sleep to be that?"
"Big day ahead!" my mother continued. "No time to waste. Girls can't
just roll out of bed to face the day. We have a lot more to do than
those silly men!"
I heard the stress on the word "we" and my insides crumbled yet again.
There was no "we" here. I was a 13-year-old boy.
"Mom," I started, firmly but politely as I rolled over in bed, "I don't
know why you are saying 'we.' You know I'm a boy."
"Oh, Ellen," Mom responded, "Let's not get into this again. This was
covered thoroughly, completely, and forcefully if you remember what your
father did to you last night and that is how it is going to be for the
rest of the summer. So get yourself out of bed right now young lady.
There is much to learn and much to do."
"No," I said plainly as I turned away from her. "No. I am not going to
do it."
"Your father is still sleeping Ellen," my Mom countered, "and I would be
loath to wake him up and tell him that his daughter is a stubborn little
thing that won't do what she is told. We could then replay the events of
last evening if you insist."
The ball was back in my court. My bottom still stung from the violent
swats my father had inflicted the night before. I shot up in bed and
shivered for a moment; an action that wasn't lost on my mother. She now
saw the fear in me. I quietly cursed to myself. I had shown weakness,
the one thing I didn't want to show.
"So..." my mother continued, "what's it going to be?"
"I... I... I," I stammered, words stuck in my throat. "Don't think you
need to wake dad."
"Good," came from my mother's lips, which had crept into a smirk. "And
you should call him 'daddy' from now on. 'Dad' is the term boys use when
addressing their father."
My heart absolutely sunk as I slid out of bed. My mother had left the
room after our exchange, but quickly returned with a pink terrycloth bath
robe. She looked at me and with a grin said, "Oh my!"
"'Oh my' what mom?" I responded.
She giggled and pointed at my crotch. "That!" she said. "That, uh,
little 'problem' you have shooting out. Does that happen often?"
"Mom!" I shouted covering up my budding erection. "I'm a thirteen-year-
old boy! What do you think?"
I leapt into my bed and covered myself. I began to sob. First the
embarrassment at the restaurant. Then the spanking. Then the
humiliating gifts. Then being forced to wear a night gown and panties.
And now this in front of my mother. I wanted to crawl into a hole and
die.
"Ellen? Are you alright," my mother asked tenderly.
"I'm not Ellen!" I shrieked as I turned toward her. "I'm Evan and I am
not alright. Can't you see that? Are you that stupid?"
I had never seen my mother move so quickly. She pounced on me, almost
like a predator coming down on its prey. Her hand came across my face
with a loud slap, which jolted me upright. It was then that she pinched
my chin and locked her eyes onto mine. I had always seen a softness in
her azure blue eyes, but that softness had turned to ice as they bore
into me. I struggled, but couldn't break her hold or turn away.
"Stupid? I'm the stupid one?" she said mockingly. "I'm not the one that
is so stupid and inconsiderate that they skip out of a mandatory
presentation at school and then face severe punishment at home. That's
not me. That is you!"
I gulped. "But mom! I'm a boy and this is just crazy!"
"Crazy?" she chuckled. "No, crazy is the way your father and I have been
raising you to this point. Always playing good cop bad cop with your
father not doing his job on the disciplinary end of the equation. So I
have to wheedle and cajole and entreat and beg. 'Oh Evan, you're so
special. Oh Evan, you're so wonderful. Oh Evan, you're so
misunderstood. Well that ends now. After your latest little expedition
into irresponsibility, your father and I had a long talk. I said I was
tired of this. I said I was tired of the flat-out mistreatment that you
ladle out to me and I was tired of him not doing his part. When I
suggested this is how we remedy the situation, he was leery, but I
insisted. Your father and brother can be a bit coarse and insensitive,
but you are simply spoiled and feel entitled. I told him this is the way
we are going to cure you of your harebrained macho crap and if he didn't
go along with it, I was out of here. He could raise his two sons on his
own. I am simply tired of taking it, especially from you."
I was no even more scared than I was when lying over my father's knee
awaiting his hand to make contact with my bottom. My mother would
neither release my face nor her stare. She saw the fear and she made
certain I knew that she saw that fear. She held it firm. After what
seemed like an eternity, she slowly released her grip and looked away.
She stood up and fetched the pink robe that she had flung to the floor.
She tossed it onto the bed.
"Here," she said quietly. "Cover yourself up and come downstairs. We
need to get breakfast ready for your father and brother and I can't have
you waltzing about uncovered with you sticking out."
I was amazed with her grace as she turned toward the door. Less than a
minute ago, she had turned into a banshee, but now she had regained her
composure and a quiet dignity. As she neared the door, she turned "And
from now on Ellen, address me as 'mother' or 'mommy.' Only boys call
their mother 'mom.'"
I reluctantly reached for the robe, but before I could touch it I simply
collapsed. Falling forward onto the robe I began to sob uncontrollably.
I could never remember crying like this. My body convulsed as it drained
of what little energy I had after having little, if any, sleep. I buried
my face in the robe, feeling the warm, salty tears slowly drench my face
and the robe. I continued to wail, oblivious to my mother turning toward
me and sidling next to me on the bed. I felt her soft hand on my back,
which shivered and heaved as my wailing continued.
"Ellen," she said softly. "Sssssssssssh. You will wake your father and
brother."
She reached around me and slowly pulled me up and toward her. My sobbing
face found its way to her shoulder, but I continued to cry. I was
inconsolable.
"Mom... uh... mommy," I stammered, choking through my tears. "I don't
want to do this. I just don't. Isn't there another way?"
"Ellen," she continued. "We just went through this and I thought I made
myself clear. Your parents--the people who make the decisions are around
here--have decided this is what needs to happen before it is too late for
you. I know it isn't going to be easy. Not for me. Not for your
father. And certainly not for you. But it has to be done and you will
see that once you get serious about being held accountable for your
actions. Your father and I will be firm about this and I can't speak for
your father, but I will try to be as gentle and understanding as I can be
while trying to get through to you how disappointed we both are in your
behavior."
I was surprised by how calm my mother was. Less than two minutes ago,
she had my face in a vise-like grip with her eyes boring into my soul.
Now, she was comforting me. I didn't like what I was hearing and I was
still determined to somehow lessen the punishment that was going to be
doled out to me, but her hug was the consolation I so desperately needed
at the moment. She hadn't hugged me in years, probably because I hadn't
let her, but right now her hug brought me back and dulled the pain I felt
so deeply.
"We do need to get up Ellen," my mother said softly, "and we do have to
get you ready for the day. So it's on with the robe sweetie."
She rose from the bed and I slowly followed. She helped me into the
soft, pink robe that exhibited a wet circle where my tears had fallen.
My erection had totally subsided, momentarily lessening my embarrassment.
My nightgown fell smoothly around me, creating a silhouette totally
foreign to me.
My mother reached toward me, straightening the robe and then running her
fingers through my hair. "Oh my!" she giggled. "We are going to have to
do something about that mop of yours. Let's get you to the bathroom."
She strode confidently toward the bathroom assigned to Thomas and me
while I lagged behind. It felt so different navigating with the
nightgown and panties.
"Hop to it," my mother said as she reached the doorway to the bathroom
and turned to face me. "We've got a lot to do to get your ready for the
day."
"Mom." I said as I approached her, "I really need to piss so can you get
out of the way and let me do that before we do anything else?"
"Piss?" my mother responded sharply. "That type of language is not
befitting a young woman."
I could see her back arch and eyes sharpen and the last thing I wanted
was my face trapped in her grip again, so I backpedalled quickly "I mean,
can I go to the bathroom please?"
"Of course, dear," she said, her lips curling back into a sweet smile.
"But we girls often go together and so let's do that."
"We?" I asked plaintively.
"Yes, this is going to be a new experience for you and you need to be
shown proper feminine hygiene," she said matter-of-factly.
She ushered me into the bathroom and I approached the toilet bowl.
Lowering my panties, opening the robe, and lifting the nightgown, I stood
next to the toilet bowl, ready to take aim.
"Ellen!" she gasped. "That is not the way women go potty. You need to
sit."
"Oh please!" I grumbled. "No way!"
"Ellen," she huffed. "Is it going to be like this every step of the way?
We went through this in your bedroom and I will reinforce everything I
said in there. For the entire summer, you are going to be a daughter.
Not a son. Let me repeat. A daughter. Not. A. Son."
The firmness of those last three words jolted me.
"You are going to learn what it is like to be a young woman and that
means a young woman in every way, shape, and form. You will act like a
young woman. You will conduct yourself like a young woman. And starting
right now, you are going to go to the bathroom like a young woman. So
sit."
So I sat. I lowered the panties to my ankles and lifted my nightgown. I
had to bundle up the robe so it wouldn't touch the water in the toilet
bowl as I sat down. I couldn't relax enough to relieve myself. Looking
to my mother, she could see my pleading eyes, begging her to leave.
"Honey, just relax" she said quietly. "I used to watch you all the time
when you were little, so it's nothing I haven't seen before."
I resigned myself to the current situation. Exhaling deeply, I felt my
bladder release. The sound seemed somehow different, distracting me
momentarily. As I finished, I began to stand up, only to hear my mother
hiss "Wipe yourself!"
"Huh?" I said.
"Women wipe themselves after going potty. It is quite uncomfortable
walking around with damp underwear, not to mention the odor," she said
firmly. "So grab a little sheet of toilet paper and wipe your opening."
My hand nervously reached and pulled off three or four sheets from the
toilet roll. "You don't need that much," she stated. "Just one or two
sheets should do."
I daintily reached for my penis and dabbed at the end, drying the
droplets that sat on its tip. After a couple of strokes, I put the
balled up toilet paper into the toilet, reached back, and flushed.
"Well, that's girl lesson number one," my mother beamed. "We are going
to go pass/fail on the first few lessons and after a rocky start, I will
still give you a passing grade. Next up, your hair."
Lynne
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