Young Stepmother Part 5
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Young Stepmother Part 2 free porn video
Young Stepmother Part 2
By Mark Dayette
The day after the funeral, Stepmother Molly and I attended the reading
of my father's will. I had thoughts in my head of moving out and getting
my own place but then I wondered if I was strong enough to do it. I had
become accustomed to a lazy lifestyle that it was going to be hard to
change my ways. However, as the will was being read I awaited the
substantial inheritance that I knew my father had prepared for me. As it
was read, Molly was given $2 million dollars in land and financial
assets from father's estate. I was excited to discover that father had
that much in wealth but the look on my Stepmother's face expressed a
sense of disappointment. She must have thought he was more wealthy, that
perhaps she felt he deceived her.
When it came to my portion of the will something strange and unexpected
happened, a lawyer played a special recording and I heard the sound of
my departed father's voice. It was sad and powerful to hear Dad's voice
again, he said, "Hello son, I could not with a sensible conscience leave
behind an abundance of money in your hands after my death. I was no
fool, I knew you were using the money I gave you each month for drugs,
music, and video games. You are not wise with money, it would be to your
detriment if at this disordered time in your life you were given a large
sum of money as you would surely throw it away and suffer the negative
consequences from that. It is with that knowledge in mind that my sole
gift to you is the placing of a "signs of success" fund which will be
controlled by your Stepmother Molly. After your mother's death I was
lucky enough to find a wonderful young woman who helped me to experience
the joys of life again and I trust her judgment to manage your future.
The fund has a "progress toward success" grading system per year. Your
Stepmother Molly will receive a document with the precise reward scale
that your future behavior will be judged by. I trust Molly to know when
you are becoming successful and to pay you each year from the fund based
on her correct evaluation of your progress."
I couldn't believe it, I felt crushed, that's what Dad wanted? For my
young Stepmother to grade me like an elementary school student and to
withhold the bulk of my rightful inheritance from me if I didn't
continue to show 'progress toward success'? I was willing to admit to
myself that maybe my Stepmother showed some genuine affection for me,
but for me to be put in the position of answering to her like a prisoner
to a warden, it didn't seem like this was fair at all. Furthermore, even
if my Dad was right that I foolishly threw my money away on small
pleasures, I was still an adult man who shouldn't be placed into the
living circumstances of a child with an overbearing female running my
life.
When we arrived back home my Stepmother told me that she would give me a
copy of the "progress toward success" reward payment plan tomorrow, she
said that I looked upset but it was for the best. There was an odd pause
and she looked down and said, "It is so soon after your father's death
and I hope this isn't in bad taste but I honestly thought he was worth
more money, I wonder if those middle aged sluts he dated after your
mother died burned off some of his fortune." I was speechless, she was
complaining about acquiring $2 million in assets from my father's will,
was any amount of money enough for her?
The next day she handed me a copy of the "progress toward success"
payment rules and they were shocking and detailed. The grade of F was
deemed as: Continued stagnation in education and/or employment, very low
economic status, no dating life. The grade of C was assessed as:
Education and/or employment is improved but still lacking great
progress, low earning status, some dating but no serious romantic
progress. The grade of A was declared as: Education progress has become
highly achieving, must be working on master's degree, employment of high
earning status, engaged or married to a partner of plentiful financial
means. The grade of B was a good improvement on C and D was a bit better
than F.
The financial payout for these grades was apportioned per year as: F)
$1,000 D) $3,000 C) $9,000 B) $27,000 A) $81,000
I will be truthful, when I first read these rules I felt like I needed a
nap, the personal effort these pay plans required from me was
astounding. After my Stepmother knew that I had read the provisions of
the plan I went downstairs to see how flexible she was going to be on
grading me. I asked her, "Stepmother, this whole progress toward success
fund grading system, can we just overlook that and you pretend I'm doing
well and give me a grade of A every year?" She made a grumpy face and
shook her head and said, "Why would I do that? Your father wanted you to
earn your money, I'm afraid play time is over."
I walked away from her words with hard reality setting in. I suddenly
became aware that I was still calling her "Stepmother" and that I could
regain some pride if I went back to calling her "Molly". However, the
futility of that gesture was fairly obvious, she was a Stepmother now in
every sense of the word, she had the power, although she was my own age
it didn't matter, she held the superior position in our relationship.
And it was of no use for me to think about trying to move out and escape
from her control or from the terms and promises of the will, I knew I
had no job, no job skills, and I wasn't close to getting that college
degree.
With a great deal of effort it took me a year to raise my grade on the
"progress toward success" to a D. Sure, it was only $3,000 but I felt
like I could reach a C next year by taking more classes and finding a
job and rising up at work. I would even start dating. The grade D
payment wasn't much but I was proud of myself, I had proved that I could
improve my life. I told my friend Pete that he should come over to my
house and we could party, I told him my Stepmother would stay downstairs
and not bother us. Pete said that was an awesome idea and he wanted to
play ping-pong again in our basement, we had a great ping-pong table and
me and Pete had played that a lot before Dad married Molly and when I
had told Pete at the wedding to stay away from our house because he was
too horny for Molly. Pete asked me why I was now willing to invite him
over to be near Molly and I said, "It is okay now, Dad's gone, so
there's no one around to get mad at you for flirting with Molly, but I
bet if you try it she's going to tell you to fuck off." He laughed and
said, "Yeah maybe." I told Pete to come over to my house at 7 p.m., one
of my semester final exams ended at that time.
The final exam took longer than I thought and there was a storm and
traffic jam so I didn't get home until almost 8 p.m. When I entered the
house my Stepmother was there but I didn't see Pete, I asked her if he
had shown up and she said, "Yeah, he's here, I told him he could wait
for you anywhere in the house, I guess he got bored and eventually went
into the basement, he's down there right now." Me and Pete played ping-
pong in the basement for hours. I had an old Nintendo system in the
basement and after playing ping-pong we started to play old games like
Mario Brothers. For a few relaxing hours I felt like a kid again. Pete
left around 1 a.m.
A few days later I was enjoying the break between semesters and one
afternoon I went on a date with an attractive girl I had met in English
class by the name of Kristen, I had asked her out over the phone and it
wasn't too bad for me because I had been in possession of her phone
number for a few weeks as we had worked on a group assignment in Biology
class together which required arranging private meet-ups after class. So
late in the evening I arrived home and I could see that my Stepmother
was home but I couldn't find her and then I heard her voice call out,
"Nathan, can you come upstairs? We need to talk!"
After I had walked upstairs I saw that my Stepmother was standing in my
bedroom and she holding something behind her back and suddenly she
presented it to me and she asked, "What is the meaning of this?" She was
holding in her hands the same silky short pink slip I had seen her
wearing in the kitchen that one night which now seemed so long ago. I
asked her, "What does that have to do with me?" She explained, "I found
it laying under your bed, what was it doing there? Have you been wearing
it?" I couldn't believe what she was accusing me of and I quickly
defended myself by saying, "I don't know why it was under my bed but I
swear I didn't put it there and I wasn't wearing it." Her face remained
stiff and she was unwilling to yield any ground.
She continued to accuse me, "You know if you wanted to wear my clothes
you could have asked me for permission, there's no shame in being a
Transgendered person these days." The direction of the discussion had
taken a terrible turn, I tried to invent a more logical explanation that
would save me from the shame that was nearly overwhelming me. I said,
"Trust me, I'm not Transgendered, there has to be some other reason why
your lingerie was under my bed." Then she walked over to the Ottoman
situated in the floor of my room, and I hadn't noticed this detail as it
was laying there, but while we were talking she picked up a small
delicate item of clothing that was on top of the Ottoman and she said,
"And this pair of my white stockings were hidden under your bed too.
Were you building up to a whole outfit?"
I was speechless, the intense and critical look on her face showed me
that unfortunately I was the one who had to give ground. It was like a
court case and her evidence was too solid and I lacked an effective
defense. I would give ground and admit to something, but I couldn't say
I was Transgendered, there had to be another thing to say. And then it
happened, she put me on the spot and forced me to define myself. She had
her hands on her hips with such a look of determination and forcefulness
and she asked, "If you aren't Transgendered then what are you?" And God
help me but I lost my nerve and even though it wasn't true and I had not
been wearing her clothes and I didn't know why her clothes were under my
bed, I gave her the confession she was waiting for to finally settle the
confrontation, I said, "Okay, okay, you got me, I'm a...I'm a...
crossdresser." Her eyes went wide open with amazement at what I had just
confessed to.
After I said it, the shame of what I had done sunk in and I wondered
what I could do to recover my dignity. Then she gave a wicked smile and
said, "Nathan, you aren't the first boy who wanted to look feminine."
Trying to change the subject and reclaim my masculine image in front of
her I said, "It was just an experimenting thing, I won't do it again."
She laughed at that idea and said, "Sweetie, crossdressers always do it
again, it is a lie to pretend that you won't." She explained, "For the
men who crossdress it is as addictive as alcohol or drugs. My university
Psychology professor Dr. Lindsay Korman told the class that she went
through the same problem in her marriage, her husband was a hardcore
crossdresser and his crossdressing never decreased, it only increased."
I listened to the serious way she discussed this subject and I had to
accept that I had suffered a severe defeat of my pride. I knew that in
her eyes I was a seemingly uncontrollable crossdresser. It got worse
when my Stepmother offered to give me the silky pink slip and the white
stockings. She said, "If you like these so much you can keep them, I'm
sure you already know how soft and comfortable that slip is to sleep
in." I felt awful, my heart sank, in her mind there wasn't any doubt
that I had been sleeping in that pink slip, but it just wasn't true, but
it was too late for the truth, I had lost. I had nothing left to do but
be pleasant toward her offer for me to keep the slip and the stockings
so I said, "Thank you, I'm happy to keep them." I couldn't believe that
the statement had exited my mouth. She gently handed the slip and
stockings to me and I took them and she left my bedroom and she went
back downstairs. I closed my bedroom door and I shoved the slip and
stockings under the bed and quickly flung myself on top of the bed face
down in frustration. In the eyes of my young Stepmother my old identity
was dead, I was a living and breathing crossdresser!
A few hours later I was filled with anger, how had my Stepmother's
clothes ended up under my bed? I tried to come up with an answer and
then I found it, IT WAS PETE, my friend Pete had obviously been sneaking
around upstairs when he came over for our party the week before, it was
when I was running late and I wasn't here yet. He was waiting in my
house for a long time and he probably got mad and decided to play this
twisted joke on me. In my mind I imagined the whole scenario of how it
happened. He went into my Stepmother's bedroom upstairs while she was
downstairs (he had always wanted to fuck her anyway so why wouldn't he
mess around with her intimate clothing?) and he came up with the idea of
planting her clothes under my bed.
THAT HAD TO BE the explanation. Pete was a good friend, my best friend,
but it was time I admitted that there wasn't anything he wouldn't turn
into a prank or a joke. I thought of a solution, I would call Pete
tomorrow and tell him I wanted to go over to his house, and I would make
sure his parents weren't around and I would get him to admit to me that
he planted my Stepmother's clothes under my bed. I would force him to
come back over here to my house and confess to my Stepmother that it was
his joke, that I wasn't really a crossdresser and my male honor would be
restored.
To Be Continued......
Ofelia
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