My First Day With Mom free porn video

MY FIRST DAY WITH MOM By Lisa Lovelace I was fourteen when Dad left us. He and Mom had a horrible fight one day, screaming at each other in the living room. I felt terrible, because the fight was about me. Dad came home early from work that day and caught me wearing a dress. If I was a girl, it would have been fine, but I was a boy. Not much of one - I was short and skinny, with no body hair or muscles. But I was a boy, and boys did not wear girls' clothes, not ever. At least not in Dad's mind. He started shouting at me, and Mom came into the room and told him to stop, because she'd given me permission. He started shouting at her instead, blaming her for my perversion, as he called it. He threatened to beat it out of me. At that point Mom told me to go upstairs to my room and close the door. The fight got worse after that. I changed into boys' clothes and put away the dress, just in case Dad came upstairs, and sat on my bed, feeling awful and trying not to cry. After a while I heard the front door slam, and looked out the window to see Dad toss a suitcase in the trunk of his car and drive away. I heard Mom crying downstairs. She calmed down after a few minutes, and I went down to see if she wanted to talk or be left alone. She gave me a huge hug. "Leonard, your father has left us. He's not coming back," she said. "I've known for some time that we just aren't... well, I was young and dumb when we got married, and I'm older and slightly wiser now. Anyway, he's gone, I'm divorcing him, and you will live here with me." I wasn't sure what to say. I knew I was supposed to love my Dad, but I didn't. He was mean to Mom, and he was mean to me. Now he was gone, and good riddance. "Mom, does this mean... does it mean I can dress up at home?" "I guess it does, dear," she said. "I noticed you changed into your boy clothes." I shrugged. "With Dad so mad, it felt safer." "Of course. Now that he's gone, you still have to wear boys' clothes to school or to hang out with your friends. But when you're at home and it's just the two of us, you can dress as you like. Girl or boy, it's up to you." Words I never dreamed I'd hear. I felt a wave of love for her. "Oh, thanks, Mom!" "Starting now," she said. "Upstairs with you and change. Scoot!" She gave me a little swat on my bottom. Mom had known for a long time that I liked to dress as a girl. A few years ago, she caught me wearing a pair of her panties and a slip. She stayed calm and asked me if I wanted to be a girl. I said no, I just liked wearing the soft, pretty things that girls wore, instead of the boring things that boys wore. She said she understood, but Dad would disapprove, so I could do it only when he wasn't at home. That was okay. He spent many of his days off golfing with his buddies and then going to a sports bar, and usually didn't get home till late. So I could dress up some of the time on weekends, and on weekdays after I got home from school until about six. Dad rarely got home before half past. Of course, whenever I dressed up, I was always nervous and had to be constantly listening for the sound of his car unexpectedly pulling into the driveway. I couldn't use makeup or nail polish. I couldn't do anything to my hair. I had to settle for looking like a boy wearing a dress. But now that he was gone, I no longer had to be afraid. I went upstairs and changed into the outfit that I kept hidden in an old gym bag in the back of my closet. Panties, a slip, a dress and pantyhose. Would Mom take me shopping for some new things? Would I have to go out dressed as a girl, so I could try things on? The thought excited and terrified me. I went downstairs and presented my blushing self to Mom. "Well. You're cute as a girl, but we do need to get you some new things, don't we? Starting with a name. What do you call yourself when you dress up?" "I don't call myself anything." "Oh, we can't have that. Instead of Leonard... how about Lisa? Short and sweet. When you're dressed as a girl, you're Lisa." "I'm Lisa. Okay." "And Lisa needs clothes. That outfit is worn out. We'll shop online this evening and get some things overnighted." Oh, good, I wouldn't have to go out in these old things. "Thank you, Mom!" "In fact," Mom said, "tomorrow will be our first mother-daughter day. You'll be Lisa all day. You'll dress up in your new clothes and I'll take you to a beauty salon for a makeover, and then I'll take you out for our first mother-daughter dinner." I gulped. Take me places? In a dress? "Meanwhile," Mom said, "I want to celebrate. There's a bottle of prosecco in the fridge and I'm going to drink all of it, unless you want some." "I'll taste it, but I bet I won't like it," I said. "That's fine. More for me." Mom seemed happier and looked younger than she did two hours ago. She opened the bottle with a pop that bounced the cork off the kitchen ceiling. Using tall, narrow glasses, she poured a full glass for herself and maybe a quarter of a glass for me. "Here's to freedom!" she said. We clinked glasses. I took a sip and accidentally choked on it. She laughed as I gasped and sputtered. "Eww! No, thanks," I said. "Try again. Here's to my new daughter, Lisa," she said. She raised her glass. I felt obliged to raise mine, and when she gulped hers, I sipped cautiously. I didn't choke this time, but didn't like the taste. Adults were weird. I put down the glass. "You know what we should do?" Mom said. "We should give you a bubble bath, and then change into something more comfortable, maybe play with your hair and makeup." "Something more comfortable, like a nightgown? I don't have one," I said. "I'll lend you one of my old ones," Mom said. "We're close enough to the same size, and I'll get you nightgowns of your own." I slipped into the bubble bath. It was delectable. The scent of lavender arose from the bubbles, which insulated the bath water and kept it warm. When it finally grew cool and I stepped out, my skin was soft and fragrant. Mom showed me how to moisturize myself and use body powder and a touch of eau de cologne. I smelled wonderful. A pleasant first step toward feeling feminine. I returned to my bedroom to dress for bed. Mom dropped a beautiful nylon nightgown over my upstretched arms and let it glide down my body. I luxuriated in the feeling, never having worn such a garment before. She held up a diaphanous robe - she called it a peignoir - and I slid my arms into it. She tied a sash around my waist in a pretty bow. Such a delicious feeling. "Don't you look nice!" Mom said. I made her a clumsy curtsy. She smiled and said she'd teach me how to curtsy properly. We walked down to the kitchen. I loved the feeling of my gown and peignoir swirling about my legs on the stairs. Mom took a pizza out of the freezer, a girly margherita pizza with sauce, cheese, green leaves and a thin crust, and turned on the oven. While the pizza was cooking, Mom went to the giant shopping site, Amaze.com, typed in "14 year old girls dresses" and showed me the results. I was in heaven. Mom and I scrolled through page after page of dresses, and talked about what style of dresses I wanted to wear. I liked frilly, feminine clothes, not the slim, simple things that most girls seemed to prefer these days. Mom advised me to buy some plainer dresses to wear in public, but said I could have a couple of frilly ones to wear at home. I chose three regular dresses that I liked. Mom talked me out of one of them, so I chose another. I would have two plain cotton dresses and one semi-frilly one. "Okay, Mom, now search for Lolita dresses." "Lolita, the novel?" "Lolita, the fashion style." The results made her catch her breath. "Oh, my goodness," she said. She must have been clueless about Japanese pop culture. "It's like girls' clothes from a century and a half ago. Would you really want to dress like that?" "If I could," I said. "But it wouldn't be practical. People would stare and laugh at me, or start asking questions, and if they figured out I was a boy, it'd be even more embarrassing." "You could wear your Lolita outfits at home. Oh, my goodness, look at the prices. How about one outfit to start with? Which of these do you like best?" I was hard to pick just one, but I finally chose a pink dress with a square neckline and a bow centered on it, lace-trimmed princess seams down to the waist, and elbow-length sleeves trimmed with multiple rows of lace. Its full skirt fell to just below the knees, with a lacy petticoat peeking out below the ruffled hem and a cute little lace- trimmed mock apron below the bodice. The skirt was trimmed with fabric bows between ruffles, flounces and rows of lace. Figured white stockings, pretty platform sandals, a cute little fascinator and a pink ribbon choker trimmed with pearls completed the costume. Mom pointed out that all the models were wearing wigs, so she picked one the same color as my real hair and added it to the order. "This will make you look like a six- or seven-year-old girl," Mom said. "That's how it's supposed to look. Isn't it beautiful?" "In the eyes of the beholder, I guess," Mom said, and added it to the shopping cart. She typed in "girls panties" and again we saw millions of results. Guided by Mom, I added ones I thought were cute to the cart. We did the same for training bras and slips. A cute denim skirt and a couple of colorful girls' tops for everyday wear. Girls' knee and ankle socks. Two nightgowns. No trousers or shorts. Skirts and dresses only. "Can you afford all this, Mom?" "We live in a community property state, honey. We'll be fine." I didn't know what community property was, but if Mom liked it, that was good enough for me. She opened her shopping cart. The total was almost a thousand dollars. Oh my God. "Do we have everything you need?" Mom asked. I looked at the list. "Shoes?" "I've seen you wear mine," she said. "Borrow them for now." "Stockings?" "I'll give you a pair of my pantyhose. Rinse them out at night after wearing them. You don't have the hips to wear a garter belt. Anything else?" I shrugged. If we missed anything, we could order it later. Mom clicked Buy Now, and chose the Overnight delivery option. She rose from her chair, and I gave her a big hug. "Thanks, Mom! I can't believe it! Dad wanted to kill me for dressing up, and two hours later, you're letting me do it! You're amazing! Sorry I'm costing you so much money." "I think of it as an investment in family happiness," Mom replied. "Something we haven't had enough of lately. Goodnight, Lisa." "Goodnight, Mom." ~ ~ ~ My first day with Mom - my new Mom, newly freed from my Dad! - was a Saturday. A day when I normally had to dress as a boy, unless Dad went out for the day. A new and better day started when she knocked on my door and woke me at eight. We exchanged good mornings and I stretched in bed, luxuriating in the feeling of the nightgown and robe sliding over soft cotton sheets. "What first?" I said. "Bath." I could hear it running. The bubble bath was as heavenly as the one I took last night. I sat in it for half an hour until it began to cool. Mom told me to moisturize and use body powder before getting dressed, and to wear the nightgown and robe until my new clothes arrived. She made us a nice veggie omelet that we split. It left me hungry. Mom said it was a girl-sized meal, and warned I would be hungry most of the time until my appetite adjusted. We were in luck. The Amaze truck showed up a little after ten and dropped off a dozen or so boxes, all addressed to Mom. My new female wardrobe. I couldn't wait! "Let's open these in the guest bedroom," Mom said. "I think we'll make that Lisa's room from now on. Store your girl things there, and your boy things in your bedroom, so that Leonard can still have friends over." Leonard, I thought. Like he still mattered. In my mind he now existed only at school. At home, I was Lisa. We took turns opening the boxes one at a time, like at Christmas, and oohing and aahing over each piece of my new clothing. We left several boxes unopened ? one that Mom said was for the kitchen, and two that held my Lolita outfit, which she said we would open later. I loved all my new things. I hung up my new dresses and skirt and tops in the closet, and put my new underwear in the chest of drawers. What a lot of boxes to recycle! I wished Amaze could ship all my stuff in one or two big boxes instead of sending lots of little ones. "Now then, Little Miss Lisa, off with your nightie and let's get you dressed," Mom said. "Pick out the panties, bra, slip and dress you want to wear this morning. You can try on other dresses later if you like." I chose a matching panty and bra and a full slip, and deliberated among the dresses. I finally chose a semi-frilly dress that I thought might be okay if we went to a nice restaurant later. It was sleeveless, with a jewel neckline, in layers of champagne organdy. The bodice was embroidered with flowers. A broad ribbon sash circled the waistline and tied in a bow in front. The knee-length skirt was full and had a built- in petticoat. "Oh, that's beautiful, darling," Mom said. "Let me do your hair and makeup before you put it on. You're a little young for makeup, but considering the occasion, a light daytime look won't be too much. As for the hair..." Mine was an undistinguished brown, about collar length. "I'll just give it a center part for now, but we'll see what the salon can do." "Will they know I'm not a real girl?" "I explained that you're a special kind of girl, and they have a chair that's private. They won't embarrass you." Mom took me down the hallway to her room, where she sat me at her vanity and brushed and parted my hair. It wasn't very pretty, but it did make me look less male. Afterwards, she did my face and nails. A touch of pinkish eyeshadow, understated eyeliner, soft pink lipstick, and matching nails. The cosmetics softened my look considerably, enough to make me look plausibly female. I had not yet reached puberty and had no facial or body hair. I stepped into the dress to avoid messing up my hair or makeup. Mom zipped me up and fussed with the sash. I looked in the mirror and was surprised to see how big a difference the dress made. I actually looked pretty. "Oh, don't you look lovely!" Mom fussed with my hair. "We have some time before lunch, Mom. Can you start teaching me how to walk and sit and move like a girl?" "Good idea!" She spent the next couple of hours doing just that. Shorter steps on a straight line, swing your hips, smooth your skirt under you when you sit, well forward on the seat. Elbows in against your waist, forearms active when you speak, wrists limp, heels together. How to hold your head, when to tilt it, when to lower it. How to look at the sole of your shoe. How to look at your nails. Lunch was half of another veggie wrap. I was looking forward to dinner. I hoped there would be meat for dinner. Maybe some chicken. Girls liked chicken. After lunch, Mom tidied me up in my semi-frilly dress, refreshed my makeup, touched up my hair and told me to get in her car. She showed me how to put my knees together, sit and swivel to get into a car while wearing a dress. As she drove me to the salon, she told me I looked eighty percent like a girl now, and after my makeover, I would look ninety-five percent like a girl. "What would make me look a hundred percent?" I said. She considered this. "Breasts. Waist. Hips. Skin. In other words, hormones." "Would you want me to do that, Mom?" "It doesn't matter what I want, it matters what you want. But not now. It's much too soon to talk about hormones. Let's just make you look as pretty as possible, because tonight I'm taking my daughter out to dinner." "I'm nervous, Mom. I've never been to a fancy restaurant." "You'll be fine." She parked in front of the salon, helped me out of the car, escorted me inside and handed me off to a receptionist who took me to my stylist, a girl named Anne. She showed me to a completely private seat and took absolutely no notice of my male attributes. "If only your hair were an inch longer," she said. "I can do a short bob with bangs that'll make you look a lot less boyish." "Will it be boyish enough for me to wear to school?" "Hmm," she said. "If I sweep the bangs across your forehead instead of straight down... you'll still look slightly girly, but isn't that how you want to look?" "I guess so," I said uncertainly. "Go for it," she said. "Girls will notice, and some of them will think it's cute." When she was done, I loved the haircut, but was worried about what other kids would say. On a bigger guy it might have been okay, but on my slight frame, it made me look noticeably more feminine. But then I was wearing a dress at the moment ? it might not be so bad when I wore boys' clothes. Anne turned me over to my esthetician, Latrecia, who did my makeup. She made me look four or five years older by giving me an adult look, with smoky eyes and red lips. I was a teenage femme fatale. A girl named Cindy stopped by to pierce my ears. I chose studs with a tiny pink jewel. A pretty young nail technician, Huong, gave me a mani-pedi, painting my nails the same carmine color as my lips. In the mirror, I thought, I looked ? and at times moved and behaved ? like an attractive female. A reformed tomboy, maybe, finally getting all dolled up. When Mom saw me, she exclaimed, "My little girl, all grown up!" She and I thanked Anne, Latrecia, Cindy and Huong. I hope Mom tipped them generously. As we walked to her car, Mom asked, "How are you enjoying our first day as the new you and the new me?" "Very much," I said. "I'm... I look so pretty in my dress and hair and makeup! I look like a girl, not just a boy in a dress. And you seem so happy." "I am happy," she said. "Wow. It's been a long time since I could say that. Oh, I love you so much!" She caught me up in a big hug and whirled me around her before setting me down. We held hands the rest of the way to the car. A breeze toyed with my skirt. No one on the street gave me a second glance. I managed to get into the car modestly and Mom drove us home. "Now, Lisa," she said as we walked inside, "when you're a girl at home, you need to start helping with all the household chores. What men call women's work. The first thing you need is a nice, clean apron." She led me into the kitchen, where the unopened Amaze box lay on the table. She gestured for me to open it. It contained four white cotton aprons, all with ruffles on their bibs, skirts and straps. "Two for you, and two for me," Mom said. "From now on, when you do housework, you must wear an apron over your dress." Mom told me to go upstairs and change into a plainer dress for housework. I chose a cotton frock with a pretty floral print. I went back downstairs, where Mom wrapped an apron around me and tied it in a big bow in the back. "Oh, the apron makes you even cuter," she said. "Time for a little housewife training. Let's start with the laundry." She made me fetch all the dirty clothes from upstairs and bring them down to the laundry room, and showed me how to separate them into piles of delicates, light colors and dark colors, and how to set the washing machine and dryer for each pile. She had me load the delicates into the washer, add detergent and start it. "Now you have about forty minutes to do something else while the washer's working," Mom said. "Normally you'd start another chore, but today isn't about chores. Let's go pick out what you're going to wear tonight." "I'm nervous about going out in public, Mom," I said. "You were fine at the salon," she said. "It's a nice restaurant, so you can wear one of your fancier dresses." We went up to my closet and I held my dresses up to myself and listened to Mom's advice. In the end I chose the sleeveless champagne organdy dress that I'd worn this morning. I laid it on the bed and went downstairs to move the load of delicates into the dryer. When it was time to dress for the restaurant, Mom inspected my legs, approved of my lack of hair and decided she'd let me borrow a pair of her pantyhose. She showed me how to put them on. They felt amazing as I pulled them up my legs and then tugged the panty part into place. They hugged my body in a way that no boys' clothes did. My slip slid smoothly over the pantyhose and felt wonderful. Mom helped me into the dress and zipped me up. I stepped back into the two-inch pumps I'd worn most of the day, and we went to her bathroom to touch up my makeup and hair and renew my scent. "It'll be chilly after dinner. Let's find you a shawl," she said, and dove into her closet. She emerged with a white shawl of the thinnest, softest wool I've ever felt. "It's pashmina." She draped it over my shoulders and upper arms. It felt heavenly. "Get your purse and you'll be ready. I'll just go change into my LBD," she said. "What's an LBD?" "Little Black Dress. A simple dress that's flattering and goes with everything. Every woman has one." "I don't." I pretended to pout. "You're not a woman," Mom said. "You're still a girl." She smiled and shooed me out of her room so she could change. I went downstairs to the living room and sat on the couch, feeling overwhelmed by the day's changes. All my new clothes this morning, and my hair and face and nails in the salon this afternoon, and now I was dressed as a pretty girl about to go out to a fancy restaurant. I mentally reviewed what Mom told me earlier about walking and standing and sitting like a girl, and got up to practice my walk. A few minutes later, Mom came down, looking fabulous in her LBD, with a pearl necklace, bracelet and earrings. We grabbed our purses, carefully climbed into her car and left. I was excited and scared to be out in public again, and hoped no one spotted me as a boy. The restaurant was called Chez Elle. The staff appeared to be almost entirely female, as did the clientele. More female couples than I was used to seeing. I wondered if it was a lesbian restaurant. Was Mom perhaps allowing herself to explore feelings that she couldn't when Dad was around? If so, good for her. The hostess led us to a table for two back near the kitchens. I wondered if this was the restaurant's kid zone. Mom spoke to the hostess, and passed her a bill. The hostess immediately led us to a much better table by a window. I smoothed my dress under me before I sat. "What was all that about, Mom?" I was curious. "She tried to consign me to Purgatory for the sin of having a child," she said. "I explained that you were a quiet, well-behaved young lady who would not dance on the table, and convinced her to reconsider." I didn't quite follow that. "What's Purgatory?" "Somewhere that's not nice. Fortunately, it's imaginary." Our waitress appeared, welcomed us, handed us menus, told us what the specials were and asked if we wanted drinks. Mom told her pinot grigio. I asked for a Diet Coke. Mom canceled that and ordered me a virgin pi?a colada instead. I kind of resented her attitude, but I'd never had a virgin pi?a colada. She and I were free now. Yes! I would dare to explore the mysteries of the virgin pi?a colada. The menu offered plenty of vegetarian and vegan and gluten-free options, and offered white meats like chicken and turkey and pork, but no red meats, no beef or lamb or game. Lots of low-calorie and low-fat choices. Mom ordered grilled salmon with saut?ed mushrooms and roast asparagus. I wanted to have the same thing, but Mom canceled that, too, saying that we should order different things. I ordered a thick pork chop, roast baby potatoes with rosemary and sea salt, and saut?ed broccolini with dill and pepper. Mom said broccolini were more tender than broccoli, so I decided to take a chance. Our drinks arrived. I approved of the virgin pi?a colada. Sweet but refreshing. About the time we were finishing our drinks, our food arrived, and of course we had to order another round of drinks. The food was excellent. I don't know how excellent, because I'd never been to a restaurant this nice, but Mom seemed impressed. My pork chop was almost as tall as it was wide, and wonderfully tender. I liked the broccolini. Mom let me order dessert, and I chose Death by Chocolate. She suggested we split it, and I reluctantly agreed. After all, we girls had to watch our calories. She had coffee, I didn't, she paid, and we left. Outside, it was cooler, and I was grateful for my pashmina shawl. I felt so comfortable in my new clothes, even my heels. They felt right. They felt natural. They felt like me. She drove us home. Slightly erratically, I thought, but we arrived safely. The rich food made me sleepy. She wasn't, probably because of the coffee. She made tea for both of us, and it perked me up a bit. "Now for your real dessert, Lisa," she said. "Let's see you in your Lolita outfit." Oh! I was instantly wide awake. We went to Lisa's room and I opened the packages. The first box contained three bouffant petticoats. One was fancier than the others, with pintucks and ruffles and lace trim. The other two were net crinolines to give the outer petticoat more support. The other box held the below-the-knee pink dress with its lacy sleeves and the accessories: white stockings, the cute little lacy fascinator, the pink choker with pearls, and the wig. I put on the stockings and petticoats, one at a time, and held up my arms for Mom to lower the dress over me. She tugged it into place and zipped me up, and then put the wig on me and secured the frilly little headpiece with a couple of bobby pins. I preened in the mirror, turning this way and that, delighted with what I saw. The clothes fit well and were more feminine than any dress I'd ever seen, even my cousin's wedding dress last year. The Lolita dress was incredibly elaborate, its seams picked out with narrow ruffles and its hem finished with larger ruffles. The lace-trimmed petticoats peeked out an inch or two below the skirt. I instantly fell in love with the sight of myself in this dress. This was the true me. I would happily wear less elaborate dresses, but the Lolita look spoke to something deep in my brain. I could see that it was ridiculous and overdone, but it didn't matter. I wanted it. "Good heavens, Lisa," Mom said. "It's so... fussy. Do you really want to wear all that stuff? I mean, three petticoats?" "Oh, yes, Mom," I said. "But I only want to wear it when I'm doing pretty things. Having tea. Arranging flowers. Doing embroidery. Playing with dolls... except of course I'm too old to play with dolls." "I could make you play with dolls," Mom said. "You could relive the girlhood you never had. Dolls. Little girls' dresses, with pigtails in your hair. I could make you my little baby girl and put you in diapers and plastic panties and baby dresses. But I won't." I almost asked why not, but stopped just in time. It might be fun to be a little girl for a day, but diapers? Not if I was expected to use them. "For now," Mom said, "you'll stay the age you are, and you'll wear the new dresses you got today, and we'll buy you more. Your Lolita costume is for special occasions. At school, you'll still have to be Leonard." "Can Leonard wear panties to school? I don't want to wear boys' underwear anymore." "I'll have to think about that," she said. Usually that meant no. Maybe I could wear panties under my boy underwear. "Speaking of very pretty dresses," Mom said, "I have something to show you." She went into the closet and emerged with a black satin dress trimmed in white lace and a white satin apron. "A maid's uniform? Do you want me to be your maid?" I asked. The idea excited me. It was a sexist stereotype, but it was a stereotype because it was sexy. I imagined myself dressed as a maid, answering the front door and curtsying to a visitor. "Only on special occasions," she said. "A week from Friday, I'm having my monthly luncheon for the Ladies' Club. I'd like you to greet them at the door with a nice curtsy, serve the meal, see them out with another nice curtsy, and do the cleanup. Wearing this uniform. There's a taffeta petticoat and some more pretties that go with it." Oh, my! I was going to be exposed en femme to a dozen of my mother's friends. They liked to dress up for these lunches, but in my satin maid's uniform, I would be the most femininely attired of them all. It would be dreadfully embarrassing ? but part of me, I was learning, relished the humiliation. The most lowering part of it would be doing all those curtsies, which they were sure to remark on. I would have to practice. Not just curtsies, but everything about being a girl. "Will they know I'm a boy?" I asked. "Not unless you expose yourself somehow," she said. The combination of wearing my Lolita outfit, seeing the maid's dress and talking about curtsies created me an urgent impulse in my panties. I was tempted to slide my hand under my skirts to indulge it, but I didn't. It would be crude and unladylike. Instead, I delicately played with the ribbons and lace and ruffles on my bodice, waiting for the impulse to abate. "Go get ready for bed, cupcake. Not the peignoir. The other nightgown." I regretfully took off all the pieces of my Lolita outfit, put them away and took out my other nightgown, the light pink nylon babydoll and bloomers. They were just long enough to cover my crotch. They were semi-sheer, so you could see my nipples and my boy's thing, which was still slightly enlarged. So cute, but so embarrassing. I found Mom sitting in what used to be Dad's recliner in the living room. "Come here, darling." She patted her lap. I snuggled up to her. "I had a really nice day, Mom," I said. "Thank you for getting me all my new clothes." "Oh, you're welcome, honey. You look beautiful in them. It seems you really like petticoats!" "I do! I love how they rustle and swish around my legs." "Well, we'll have to get you a nice one to wear under your regular dresses. They're all full enough to look good over a petticoat. In your pretty apron, you'll look like an old-fashioned housewife." "Oh, thanks, Mom! I love you!" "And I love you, Lisa. Of course I love Leonard, too, but I've always wanted to have a pretty daughter to play with. And now I do!" "Mom? What if Leonard... just went away? I could go to school at home, couldn't I?" "Yes, but I'd have to have the time to teach you." "You're not working now, are you?" She smiled. "I'll end up owning half of your father's business. I won't have to work for a while." "Well, then, why do we need Leonard around? Wouldn't you rather have your lovely daughter, Lisa?" "I have to admit, she's more fun to be with," Mom said. "The school year's almost over. Maybe I could homeschool you starting in the autumn. Of course, you would have to wear a cute little schoolgirl's uniform, with a plaid skirt, a white blouse, knee socks and Mary Janes." "Ooh! I want to go to the School of Mom," I said. "Oh, Lisa," Mom said with a deep sigh. I saw a tear run down her cheek. "I can't believe how nice today was. We'll have more days like this, two girls pampering themselves. I'm so glad your Dad is no longer looming over us. I'm so glad it's just you and me now. I'm going to have so much fun teaching you how to be a girl." I quivered with joy, and had to blink back tears. "I love you, Mom." "I love you, too, Lisa." "Goodnight, Mom." Kiss. "You know what, sweetie? Call me Mommy." "Yes, Mommy. Goodnight, Mommy." "Goodnight, Lisa." The End