Young Stepmother Part 2
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Young Stepmother Part 6 free porn video
Young Stepmother Part 6
By Mark Dayette
After Pete left my house, I could see that my Stepmother was angry at
me. I finally asked her if I had done something to offend her.
She said, "Nathan, I won't even get into the fact that I overheard you
call me a bitch when you were arguing with Pete, what bothered me much
more was how you were not speaking to Pete in a non-threatening, high
pitched female voice, and your tone of voice certainly wasn't a girlish
lisp. I can see now that I've been too lenient with you and it has
harmed your progress toward the goal of becoming the partner Mr.
Lancaster's daughter desires."
I was confused by her attitude and asked her, "You seriously wanted me
to speak in a girl's voice in front of my ex best friend? Do you know
how embarrassing that would have been? I was already curtseying and
dressed like a girl, but I wasn't going to do a girly voice too."
She responded, "In your development toward the ideal of femininity there
can be no half measures. I especially understand it now that for you to
be convincing you are going to need to look and act feminine at all
times. And this is why it was also my mistake to allow you to continue
to wear male clothing to school. On Monday you will wear a mini-skirt to
your classes. And don't you dare try to argue with me about it, I know
what is best for you."
I don't know if I was simply emotionally drained over the humiliation by
Pete or if I was scared by the realization that she had heard me call
her a bitch, but I didn't argue with her. She had looked rather fierce
when she was lecturing me and she had her hands on her hips. It was only
when I went up to my bedroom and plunged my face into my pillow and
started to cry that I grasped the extent of my lack of power. I had
already failed twice at getting Pete to admit he was responsible for
putting my Stepmother's clothes under my bed, so it seemed unlikely that
my manly reputation would ever be restored.
And now I was being ordered to wear a mini-skirt to school. Previously,
my school crossdressing had been limited to the lingerie I was forced to
wear under my pants. Under those circumstances, the only time anyone
could find out I was a crossdresser was at the restroom urinals. Often I
was fortunate enough to be urinating when no one else was in there. I
had even created a strategy of looking for the less busy restrooms on
campus to avoid being exposed as a crossdresser.
But wearing a mini-skirt would make my exposure unavoidable. Thinking
about this shocking change made me feel extremely anxious in my chest
and stomach. However, I'm the type of person who will do anything to try
and relieve anxiety by thinking about a situation in a less painful way.
I came up with the idea that I would just tell the students that I was
wearing a mini-skirt because I was Scottish, I knew that in their
culture they had a tradition of wearing kilts so I would say it was part
of my Scottish heritage.
On the way to school on Monday morning I was wearing a black pleated
mini-skirt, and I made myself believe that the Scottish angle would
protect my dignity. In my classes I received a few critical looks and
heard some snickers. In between classes a boy I didn't know directly
approached me in the hallways and said, "Nice skirt fag." I immediately
defended myself and said, "I'm Scottish, please show respect to the
culture of my people." He looked startled by my response and backed
away. I thought to myself that maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
However, over the weekend my Stepmother said, "Nathan, wearing a mini-
skirt to school is not enough, I want you to polish your fingernails red
and always present them that way in public."
When I heard of this next step it made surprisingly little emotional
impact on me and I didn't attempt to oppose it. I guess I was
overconfident at how well the mini-skirt stuff went, and I had a
suspicion that once the students realized I was going with the "Scottish
culture" angle it shut them up from the fear that if they made fun of me
they would be viewed as not being "multicultural" and opposed to
"diversity". I thought polishing my fingernails red for school wouldn't
be that bad, I figured that a fingernail is a small part of the body and
from far away no one could see that I was wearing red nail polish. When
I went to school like that, when a student sat close to me I made
efforts to clinch my hands into a fist to hide my red polished nails or
else I stuck my hands under my desk to conceal them.
That weekend my Stepmother said, "Nathan, it is great that you are
wearing a mini-skirt and that you have red polished fingernails at
school, but I think that with the fall months coming up your legs need
pantyhose to go with the mini-skirt. It will help you keep warm."
I know it sounds strange that I didn't protest this step but I figured
that as my legs were already so pale and hairless it wouldn't be
difficult to slide by in public wearing white pantyhose. I guess I never
thought anyone would look at my legs anyway. When I went to school the
next week it was girl students who were first aware that I was wearing
hose. I had girls coming up to me in class saying, "People are
whispering rumors about you but whatever, you have great legs." Another
girl spoke to me in class and asked, "Are you dressed like that for a
play? Are you playing a female role?" I said no which she hadn't
expected, and she moved away from me and sat back down. Her question had
caught me by surprise, but as long as no one was making fun of me I
didn't think it was too terrible.
It was soon the first week of October and my Stepmother said to me one
night, "Mr. Lancaster's daughter wants to go out on a date with you
before Christmas, I was told that information from my boss Jonathan
today, he ate lunch again with Bart Lancaster."
She said, "That the big day is within a few months means I've got to get
you ready faster. Next week I want you going to school in red lipstick."
I didn't have much of a reaction, maybe I had become too complacent, it
was just that the previous steps hadn't been THAT bad. I mean I noticed
that people were looking at me and they thought I was a bit weird, but I
didn't think I looked totally like a girl or anything. I did what my
Stepmother said and wore red lipstick to school on Monday.
When I arrived there and was walking through the hallways headed toward
my classes it was like everything had changed in an instant, there was
now a constant buzz of excitement, comments, and students whispering,
giggling, and pointing when I walked by. This new level of attention
really scared me, I was trembling. A large jock with an angry face
approached me in the middle of the hallway and said, "I bet your
boyfriend loves those red lips wrapped around his cock." I was terrified
and in a meek tone of voice I tried to defend myself by saying, "I'm not
gay." I don't think he heard me and I saw one of his buddies slap him a
high five as he walked away from me.
In class I was so nervous, it was a kind of nervousness I had never felt
before. I could lie about the purpose of the mini-skirt and pretend
people were wrong to think I was wearing pantyhose, and hide my red
polished fingernails, but it was impossible to pretend I wasn't wearing
red lipstick. Girls were asking me what shade of lipstick it was and I
told them it was called 'berry'. When conversations lasted for longer
than a few seconds I tried to convince them I wasn't a crossdresser.
They would usually roll their eyes suggesting that they didn't believe
me. I said the worst I was guilty of was having a lipstick fetish, I
thought if I confessed to the lipstick thing, which I couldn't find an
excuse for, they would ignore the mini-skirt and the white pantyhose.
In addition, whenever I talked to girls it seemed like they were always
shifting the conversation to their positive stance on gay rights, I
wasn't sure why they were doing this as I hadn't brought up the topic of
gays. I remember one girl saying to me, "I completely support your right
to marry your boyfriend." I tried telling her I wasn't gay and didn't
have a boyfriend, but she gave me a blank look when I did. It occurred
to me that although gays are a small percentage of the population it is
very easy to be perceived as being one of them.
Over the weekend my Stepmother said, "This week you move into a
comprehensive female look: a yellow mid-riff sweater, a short yellow
pleated mini-skirt, silk white panties, with black high heels, white
garter belts and stockings. Also, full makeup, including blue eye
shadow. You will wear a yellow bow on the back of your blonde hair that
will be styled in an updo. And on your ears some nice dangling black
earrings. Of course your fingernails and toenails will be polished red."
I decided to finally take a stand and I shouted, "That's too much! I
won't do it! My entire body, face, and hair would look like a girl! That
wouldn't be any male clothing! How would I explain it to the other
students? It would push me into total public humiliation. No! No! No!"
She casually brushed aside my defiant reaction and said, "What do you
feel you have to explain to them? They aren't blind, they already know
you are a crossdresser, if you thought they didn't know that you've been
lying to yourself."
I folded my arms and said, "This is over, I will not look completely
like a girl at school, not ever, that's where I draw the line."
My Stepmother smirked and said, "I'll see how well you hold that line."
I avoided talking to my Stepmother for the rest of the night, I even
skipped dinner and waited until she went to bed for me to go downstairs
and find a snack. I was feeling confident that I could win the struggle
against her. I was proud of myself, my manhood would not disappear.
On Monday morning I woke up to get ready for school and my Stepmother
knocked on my bedroom door. She said, "I've found a way to fix the
dispute between us, can you open the door?" I thought that this was the
moment of my victory, she was going to back down. I opened the door and
was surprised by what I saw. Standing there were two tall muscular men,
my mother was standing between them and she looked tiny in comparison. I
asked, "Who are they?" My Stepmother said, "They are bodyguards for Bart
Lancaster, I hired them last night, Bart was very understanding, he said
that your resistance to full feminization was unacceptable and every
means necessary would be applied to bring about your submission."
I tried to run out of the bedroom door, I was acting entirely on
emotion, I wanted to run away from home, perhaps Pete would forgive me
and let me move in with him. To get Pete to forgive me I'd probably have
to pose for more feminization photos and God only knows who he would
send the pics to this time, but I was willing to do anything to prevent
my Stepmother from winning this battle.
A week ago I had checked Friendbook and the Liberty Bell High class of
2008 page was in hysterics over my feminized pics that Pete had sent
them. Luckily I didn't have to see those people anymore on a daily
basis, but if I submitted now to the full feminization that my
Stepmother wanted, everyone at my college was also know I was a
crossdresser, that constant humiliation was not something I could
endure. Just the thought of it sent chills of terror all over my body.
It would feel like the loss of the very gravity under my feet, like
those nightmares where the person is falling. I got lost in my thoughts
and hadn't noticed it but one of the muscular men stepped aggressively
in my direction.
The huge man spoke with a Slavic accent, he said, "You were told by your
Stepmother what to wear for today, I suggest you do as you were told or
suffer the consequences." After completing his statement he made an
intimidating gesture of punching his fist into his hand. I was still
unwilling to let my Stepmother win this battle. I made a quick rush
toward the door and found myself blocked by the other large bodyguard.
He tackled me and threw me down on the bed and began bending my left arm
behind my back and it hurt so badly. He was a lot stronger than Pete had
been when he overpowered me. The Slavic accent bodyguard walked up
behind me and said, "Do you want us to break your arm? Is it really
worth it? Do as your Stepmother says and you won't get hurt."
And that was when my pride died, my heart sank and I surrendered. Hope
was lost. When my Stepmother saw that my resistance was gone she had a
look of euphoria. She didn't even spare me my privacy, I was forced to
put on each item of female clothing she had demanded in front her
watching eyes and the watching eyes of the two bodyguards. In the
process, my Stepmother saw my nude penis for the first time, she said,
"Nathan, you are lucky that the Lancaster's daughter is into the
physical appearance of girls so your tiny penis won't deter her from
marrying you. However, I don't like that pubic hair, it needs to be
fully shaved off when you return home today, we don't have time for it
right now."
As I put on the silk white panties, yellow mini-skirt, and attached the
white garter belts and stockings on my legs, I looked at the Slavic
bodyguard and he was trying to hide his face because he was obviously
laughing at how I looked. I was struck by the humiliating contrast of
his appearance and personality with my own. He was about 6 '5, 240
pounds, his muscles were huge, his face had many scars, and he had
probably even killed people at some point in his life. And there he was
laughing at this skinny man being forced by his own Stepmother to fully
dress like a girl for the purpose of attending college classes. And not
only that, I overheard him tell the other bodyguard that they were going
to drive me to school to make sure I got there and one of them would be
hanging out near each of my classes to guarantee that I attended and
would return home. The bodyguard said he had bodyguard friends who
worked at my college so it wouldn't be a problem for him to linger there
in the hallways.
I put on the black high heels and lifted the yellow mid-riff sweater
over my head. It was time for my full makeup, lipstick, and blue eye
shadow, and the polishing of my fingernails and toenails with red nail
polish. My Stepmother took me into the bathroom and sat me down in front
of the mirror and completed this transformation. The worst part was
having to look at my reflection in the mirror as she was transforming
me, I felt like I was slowly being destroyed. She applied the full
makeup, red lipstick, and then the blue eye shadow on my eyelids.
A strange fully feminine appearance was looking back at me in the
mirror. I felt like the Earth was crumbling underneath me, this wasn't
Nate...it was...oh dear God no, I remembered Pete's cruel name for me,
this was...Natalie. My Stepmother fixed my dyed blonde hair into an updo
and then she placed a feminine yellow bow in the back of my hair. She
said it matched my yellow mini-skirt and yellow mid-riff sweater
perfectly. For the final touch she hooked the dangling black earrings
into my earlobes. I looked at myself and saw a person who was entirely
feminine. My male identity was dead. I felt a whirlwind of emotions, my
legs quivered over the realization that I was being sent to college
looking like this.
The bodyguards drove me to school in a limo, one of the bodyguards sat
in the back seat next to me to make sure I didn't escape. I guess he
wanted to make small talk but I didn't appreciate his question. He asked
me, "When did you know you were a faggot?" I wasn't gay but he was
bigger than me and I was afraid he would punch me if I told him that his
question was flawed. I also knew how feminine I looked and when
interacting with very heterosexual, masculine men, there just wasn't any
point in trying to get them to believe I was straight. They
automatically viewed someone like me as a crossdressing homosexual.
Therefore, I submitted to that defeat and said, "I suppose I was born
gay Sir." Fortunately, that answer was enough for him and he turned his
head away and stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. To be honest, he
seemed mostly disgusted by me.
To Be Continued.....
Avriella
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