Earth s CoreChapter 19 Cultivation Inheritance
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The Inheritance - Part 3 free porn video
When I opened my eyes on Monday morning, the dildo was the first thing I
saw. I remembered how I'd left it on view when the pizza was delivered.
Had the delivery boy seen it? And if he had, what would he have thought I
had been doing with it? Or was it just the sight of my large bust and
pretty legs that had caused his erection? I picked up the dildo and
kissed it. Now it was me that had a large swelling that needed
attention...
I shaved, showered and dressed. Put on a little make-up. Had a little
breakfast (there wasn't much in the fridge anyway). Then I started
gathering together my few belongings while I waited for Mrs Roberts. I
tried to put the dildo in my handbag, but it was too big. I couldn't
carry a handbag with a cock sticking out from one side of the top, could
I? So it went into a bag of underwear.
It seemed to take ages for Mrs Roberts to arrive, but in fact it was only
just after 10am when she turned up. We loaded the car together. She
advised me to write a letter giving notice that I was leaving the flat.
"You can drop it off at the agency along with the keys. If you do it now
you won't have to come back later." She drove me round to the letting
office. I struggled to get out of the car without spreading my legs. I
realised that this was a manoeuvre I needed to practice if I wanted to
avoid displaying my bulging knickers to anyone watching. I suddenly
remembered that the office was upstairs. And that I was wearing my
highest heels. And that my skirt was very short. Still, I was here now.
Get it over with. Going up the stairs was not too bad. I could place the
soles of my shoes on the steps. Fortunately there was a hand-rail to
steady myself. I handed over the letter and the keys without saying
anything, then headed back to the stairs. I very soon realised that going
down the stairs was much more difficult than climbing them. I needed to
turn my feet sideways a little so that I could safely transfer my weight
onto each step. And after I had started to descend, a lady entered from
the street. She waited for me as I negotiated the narrow staircase. There
was a sort of twisted smile on her face. Was she just amused at my
evident inexperience with high heels on stairs? Or how much had she seen
up my skirt? I realised that at the very least she would notice I was
wearing stockings. But could she also see that I was a boy in a
miniskirt? But nothing was said and I was very relieved to be back again
sitting in the car.
I must have still been looking a little disconcerted when we arrived at
the apartment, because Aunt Alice told me not to look so sorry for
myself. She led me into the lounge while Mrs Roberts carried the things
in from the car. "My husband was actually rather fond of you and asked me
to look after you," she said. "I decided the best thing I could do for
you was to make you change your ways. Your Uncle liked to put a dress on
sometimes and he was a much gentler personality when he did so. So I
decided to do the same for you. And besides," she went on with a bit of a
smirk on her face, "he paid a lot of money for those silicone falsies, so
it's good that they are not going to waste!" She told me that there were
some more of his "things" stored in the apartment. I could look through
them later and see if there was anything that fitted.
She told me I would be using the bedroom I had before for the time being.
"I'll be moving out at the end of the month," she said. "Then you can
move into the other bedroom if you like. However, I do want you to keep
the apartment in good order, so during the rest of this week I want you
to work with Mrs Roberts. She will show you how to do the housekeeping
properly. First, though, let's go along to Pauline's and make the
arrangements for you to start your job."
So once again I found myself walking out in public, arm in arm with my
Aunt. But this seemed a much safer area. A bit more up-market. And, of
course, an area where nobody knew me in my male self. My former self (it
struck me).
We entered the dress shop. Pauline welcomed me and said I looked very
pretty. "And what do we call you?" she asked. It might seem strange, but
I hadn't actually thought about this, and didn't know what to say. "How
about Didi?" suggested Aunt Alice. She turned to Pauline. "After all,
that's his bra size." The ladies smiled. "Well, I think Didi is a very
nice name," said Pauline. "Not in the least boyish," she looked at my
Aunt as if to give her a gentle reproof for referring to me as a male. I
began to like Pauline. She was on my side. We agreed that I would start
work the following week. I would receive an hourly pay rate, with a
commission on sales that I made. "We'll review that later," said Pauline.
"When you've settled in and got used to the way of working."
We stopped for a light lunch at a caf? near the beauty salon. I
remembered to smooth my skirt under my bottom as I sat down. And to keep
my knees together. Then we continued on our way back to the apartment.
"Now you can't wear your best frock to do housework in," said my Aunt. "I
got your uncle a maid's outfit for doing that. He was a little shorter
than you, but I'm pretty sure it will fit you OK." She handed me a
carrier bag that had obviously been conveniently placed beforehand. "Go
to your bedroom and get changed. Put black stockings on - they look
better with the black dress. Call out if you are having difficulties and
I'll get Mrs Roberts to come and help you."
In my room, I took off my dress and hung it up in the wardrobe. There was
a pack of black stockings in the bag. I took off my tan stockings and
started putting the black ones on. This took a little time because there
were back seams that I realised needed to be kept straight as I was
pulling them up my legs. When I reached the maid's dress out of the bag I
could see immediately that it was very short. It was black, with built in
white petticoats. I unfastened the back zip and carefully stepped into
the dress, making sure that I didn't snag my stockings on the zip. It was
quite tricky to fasten the zip behind my back, but eventually I managed.
The top part of the dress was very stretchy and clung to my boobies. The
waist was elasticated. There must have been a few yards of material in
the petticoats because they made the skirt of the dress stick out, giving
the impression of a relatively narrow waist with large hips and bum. The
skirt was indeed extremely short. It only just concealed the front of my
knickers, but left bare thighs, stocking-tops and taut suspenders in full
view. As I examined my reflection in the mirror, I realised that the
dress seemed to be slightly shorter at the back. Anyone standing behind
me would probably know what colour my knickers were.
And I very soon discovered a major advantage of those voluminous
petticoats holding my skirt away from my body. It made no difference to
my outline if I had a huge erection. No-one would know from looking at
me. Apart from the rapid breathing and flushed cheeks. But before I could
even investigate just how huge it was...
"Are you ready yet?"
I slipped my feet into the shoes with the lowest heels and stepped out of
the room. Mrs Roberts was waiting. She looked me up and down. I thought I
could see a hint of a little smirk as she looked at my exposed stocking-
tops and bare thighs. My cock wasn't quite so hard now, but there was a
little tingling sensation in the end of it. I spent a couple of hours
doing various household chores under Mrs Roberts's supervision.
Occasionally I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror. I liked what I
saw. There were times when I needed to bend forward when Mrs Roberts was
behind me. I sensed that she would be looking at my knicker-clad bottom
and tried to keep my thighs together to conceal the bulge of my balls in
my underwear.
My aunt appeared a couple of times to see how we were getting on. She
also took a good look at my long legs. On the first occasion she told me
to "do a twirl" so she could get an all-round view of her maid. She
seemed to approve. A faint smile played on her lips.
The duties of a maid seemed rather tedious. There were carpets to be
hoovered, windows to be cleaned, and there seemed to be an endless supply
of objects and furniture that needed dusting and/or polishing. But there
was nothing tedious about the uniform. Knowing that my upper thighs were
exposed to view, displaying shiny black stocking-tops, taut suspenders
and creamy hairless flesh. And (although I couldn't see it myself) a rear
view of my bottom, also hairless, and clad in silky pink knickers.
Perhaps a real maid would have worn demure white knickers? But then they
would have not contrasted with the white of the petticoats. So (I
reasoned to myself) the tedium of doing all this housework was a REASON
to be able to wear such a sexy revealing outfit. And there was something
else I discovered. When you are doing housework, your upper arms often
make contact with your bust. A frequent reminder that you now have large
tits. And that you are wearing a bra. Although I didn't have a throbbing
hard-on all the time, my cock was more or less permanently at least semi-
erect while I was carrying out my maid work.
But eventually Mrs Roberts told me it was time to go out shopping. "Go
and change out of your maid's dress," she said. "It's not really suitable
for wearing out in public. But keep those stockings on. They suit you."
That first week at my new home, the week before I started work, I spent
some time each day in the maid's uniform, helping Mrs Roberts. Some of
the time I went out shopping with my Aunt. "You need to get confident
being out in public in a skirt," she said. She helped me choose a few
more clothes. Back at the apartment she made me practise using make-up.
She also gave me some advice. A couple of items stuck in my memory:
"When you buy stockings, always get at least two pairs the same. Then if
you snag one stocking you don't have to throw the other one of the pair
away."
and, rather more crucially...
"People in this area have only ever seen you in a dress, apart from the
brief time it took you to get from the station to the apartment. So NEVER
go out in public dressed as a boy. That would almost certainly get people
thinking. And gossiping. And you probably wouldn't feel comfortable if
this happened. Nor would you feel so safe."
As each day went by it felt more and more normal to be wearing dresses
and stockings. Normal and natural. I don't mean that I didn't get
sexually aroused any more. Oh no. It was necessary every morning and
every bedtime (and sometimes in between) to deal with a very hard cock.
To gush into a glass and then consume the contents. I got to enjoy the
taste. And recycling is good for the planet, isn't it? At bedtime this
usually meant dipping the knob-end of my dildo into the glass as a way of
transferring the cum to my mouth. My dildo. My friend. Always hard. Even
when I was soft. But at least I now rarely got an erection when wearing a
"normal" dress in public. Of course, it was quite different when I was
dressed as a maid.
The following Monday I was up early. Aunt Alice checked my appearance.
And approved. I put on a light raincoat over my blue dress and set off on
my own to start work at the dress shop. A little nervous. On my own in
public. In a skirt. And also wondering what it would be like having a
regular job for the first time. And also for the first time going to work
with tits and wearing a dress and stockings. Fortunately at that hour,
the only other people in the street were also on their way to work. They
didn't seem to be interested in looking at me. But I was aware of the
click of my heels on the pavement. And how my boobies bounced a little.
And the swish of my stockings rubbing together as I walked. And the way
my suspenders pulled at my stocking tops with each step. And the way my
knickers caressed the cheeks of my bottom and gently supported by cock
and balls. And the absence of trousers; the way my skirt was open at the
bottom so that my underwear would be visible to anyone able to look up
it. Of course, there wasn't anyone lying on the pavement waiting for me
to give them a view up my skirt. But nevertheless, a skirt is potentially
a revealing garment in a way that trousers are not. Women get used to
wearing them from a young age. But boys usually don't. And if one is
wearing stockings and suspenders, and if one has a semi-erect penis
inside one's knickers, the potential risk of displaying one's underwear
adds to the exhilaration...
But now I was nearly at the shop. I could see it. And I began to feel a
little nervous. My semi-hard on diminished. My shrivelled cock nestled in
my comforting knickers. Pauline was obviously looking out for me and she
opened the door as I arrived. "Hello, dear," she said. "I'm glad you have
made it in good time. Take your coat off and I'll show you what's where
everything is."
Being used to bar work did at least give me some insight into how a
business worked. I could operate a cash register and deal with credit
cards. I understood about refilling shelf stocks and the need to make the
place clean and tidy at the end of the day (or at least, before opening
up again the next day). I was used to dealing with some suppliers and
carrying out regular stock-taking and so on. But the shop business was
rather different. In the bar, customers knew what they wanted and wanted
to be served quickly. In the shop, they needed more time to choose from a
selection. And the shop assistant's objective was to explain how lovely
the various items were, how they looked and how they felt to wear. And to
encourage them to buy more things than they had originally intended.
There were just the two of us working in the shop, although Pauline told
me that there were a few ladies who worked at home as dressmakers when
required, making alterations or sometimes making dresses to measure. To
start with, Pauline dealt with all the customers and I observed, helping
to fetch items from the stockroom when asked. And smiling. Trying to look
friendly and encouraging. I soon realised that there were three types of
customer. Most were women buying for themselves. Then there were women
buying items for someone else. Usually it was pretty obvious that the
someone else was male. And that sharing this little secret with the sales
assistants was part of the fun. And then there were the male customers.
Often they pretended they were buying things for their wife or girl-
friend. But some were quite openly buying things for themselves. Mostly
underwear.
As time went by, I started to deal with the male customers, and also with
some of the ladies buying things for their male partners. I think that
many of them knew, or at least suspected, that I was a male shop-girl. I
never admitted it. But didn't deny it either. I didn't mind if that's
what they thought. Especially if they felt comfortable enough to buy more
stuff.
After a couple of weeks, my Aunt and Mrs Roberts announced they were
moving out. On the last day I plucked up the courage to ask "Why did you
want to make me a woman?" The two ladies looked at each other and smiled.
"Oh, you'll never be a woman," said my Aunt. "Just a sissy male who loves
wearing skirts and feminine underwear. And it's no use you pretending
otherwise. I've seen how hard your cock gets when you put your knickers
on."
Now I'm on my own in the apartment. If I need to do any housework or even
just make myself a meal, I put on my maid's dress. When I sit down to eat
it, the skirt is too short to be tucked under my bum. My scantily clad
bottom touches the cool seat of the dining chair. But there is now no-one
else in the apartment to see me in my revealing maid's outfit. And for
the first time I started to think about my Uncle. While Mrs Roberts was
showing me how to do the housework, I had only been thinking about
myself. What it felt like to be wearing such a short skirt and showing my
underwear. How my Aunt and Mrs Roberts were enjoying seeing me wearing
it. But now it struck me how my Aunt had said she had bought the uniform
for my uncle. And that the silicone boobies had been his...
Had my Uncle paraded in front of my Aunt as a sexy maid? AND in front of
Mrs Roberts as well? Whose idea had it all been? My mind started racing
through the various possibilities. What sort of relationship did my Uncle
and Aunt have? And how did Mrs Roberts relate to either or both of them?
And I even started wondering about what might have happened to Mr
Roberts. Eventually I got the back story from Pauline. My uncle had owned
several businesses. He was a majority shareholder in the dress shop. "I
needed additional finance to get the business going, and for him it was a
convenient place to obtain the things he liked to wear."
And a few months ago he had apparently made me a partner. I remembered
that he had asked me to come to the apartment and sign some papers. I
hadn't been interested in what they were, but now it transpires I owned
40% of the dress shop.
My Aunt and Mrs Roberts had been an item back in the day. Then they had
each married to become "respectable" married women. Mrs Roberts's
marriage hadn't worked out and she had separated from her husband after a
few years. My Aunt and Uncle hadn't had any children of their own and he
had looked on me as his nearest substitute for a son. And of course, my
Aunt found out about my Uncle's preferences in clothing. So after a time
Mrs Roberts started to work as their "housekeeper"; an arrangement that
seemed to be satisfactory to all concerned. And now, of course, the two
ladies had acquired in me a sales assistant to help keep the business
going successfully. I was to a certain extent working for them as my Aunt
now held my Uncle's share of the business.
And the business seemed to be doing well. I was getting more and more of
"my" type of customer. Presumably word got round about the new shop girl.
And when one of my customers got an obvious erection while handling some
of our silky, frilly stock, I too felt a certain tingling. Fellow
feeling, I suppose you could call it.
In the lead up to Halloween we put a discreet advert in the window
"Halloween costumes available inside." I wore my maid's outfit to
encourage sales. I changed into the outfit in the shop. It was obviously
not suitable to wear in the street. It was, however, good for business.
The dressmakers who worked at home had their busiest month ever.
And I got to know some of my special customers a little better...
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