Dolly Part 4
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It was at a family funeral that I met a cousin I hadn't seen for years.
As a small child we would play together and sometimes she would dress me
up as a little girl. But the family moved away and we lost contact. I
hadn't really thought about those dressing-up sessions for years,
although as a young teenager I had tried on some of my mother's underwear
when I was alone in the house. Women's underwear felt different. The
material was softer and smoother. The colours were prettier. Sometimes
there were bits of lace. In fact quite different from boys' underwear at
that time. And of course, it was FORBIDDEN. Boys didn't wear pretty
knickers.
My cousin was now a confident young woman certainly not the flat chested
little girl I remembered. I was surprised to find that she had moved back
to this area. She invited me to come round to her house for a drink on
the following Friday evening. She had an engagement later so she said to
come round about six and that she would have to get away before 7.30. It
would be a time for us to have a chat and catch up with each other. The
funeral gathering didn't offer that sort of opportunity. I arrived at her
place at the appointed hour. She invited me to sit on the settee while
she prepared a drink. I was a little surprised to see that there was a
child's doll on the end of the settee. You know, big blue eyes and a
smiley face with red lips, a pretty dress with lots of petticoats. She
saw me looking at it and laughed. "Oh yes, I still like having my dolls
around the place." She sat beside me and we talked about what had
happened to us in the previous twenty years or so since we last met.
College, work, travel, relationships... She hadn't ever married, but not
surprisingly given her good looks and attractive figure, there had been
several hopeful suitors. "I haven't found the right person yet," she
said.
She reached across me to pick up the doll. She cradled it in her arms as
if it were a real baby. She was now sitting very close to me and I could
feel the warmth of her body. "Do you remember when we used to play
dressing up?" she asked. I turned to look at her, feeling a little
embarrassed at the question. "I used to dress you up like this, didn't
I?" She lifted up the doll's skirts and I was amazed to see that although
it was dressed as a little girl it was definitely a little boy doll, with
the unmistakable outline of a little cock and balls in its pretty
panties. "I bet you're a bigger boy now," she giggled, "with hairy legs
and things." I could feel myself blushing at this intimate turn in the
conversation. "I hope we can keep in contact now we've met up again. We
could play dressing up again if you'd like," she went on. "But I'd like
to see you again anyway." She got up from the settee and went across to a
cupboard. She reached out a package and handed it to me. "It's depilatory
cream," she said. "Bring it back tomorrow morning about 11.30. If you've
used it, I'll know that you would like me to dress you in pretty things.
But if you haven't used it I'll know that you don't and we'll go out for
a walk or something. It's perfectly fine either way, but I would like to
see you again. You don't have to tell me now, have a think about it and
only use the cream if you would like to feel girly."
I went home, hardly noticing what was going on around me, What was I
going to do? The only shop windows that I noticed as I walked past them
had displays of women's clothes or underwear. I hadn't realised how many
there were in this part of town. All that evening my head was in a whirl
at the way my cousin was proposing that we picked up our childhood
activities again. Not just that I might want to wear items of women's
clothing. But that she was offering to dress me up in pretty girly
things. How should I react? I was now an adult. Why should I want to go
back to my childhood? But she was undoubtedly an attractive young woman.
And her suggestion had stirred up some almost forgotten memories. I
prepared a meal and ate it while on auto-pilot. Finally I went to bed and
drifted off to sleep, still undecided about what I should do the
following morning.
When I opened my eyes the next morning, there it was. The pack of
depilatory cream. I sat on the side of the bed and read the instructions
on the pack. How to spread the cream with the applicator. How long to
leave it on. All about washing it off if you feel a tingling sensation.
Did I really want to use it? It had only been a suggestion. Only if I
wanted to be dressed up like a doll. To play dressing up with my cousin
like I had done years before. Many years before. And I wasn't a little
child any more, was I?
But in fact I was already feeling a tingling sensation, even before I had
opened the tube of cream. And a few moments later, even though I hadn't
answered my own questions, I found myself in the bathroom spreading the
strange-smelling cream on my legs. There was plenty of cream left in the
tube, so I spread it on my underarms as well. My chest wasn't very hairy,
but there were a few dark hairs around my nipples so I spread the cream
there as well. In the mirror I could see the reflection of cream spread
in two areas where my breasts would be if I were female. The thought
struck me that the cream might make me grow my own breasts. This idea (I
realised) was rather unlikely but nevertheless I felt a slight stiffening
of my cock. And this of course reminded me of the one hairy area that I
hadn't put any cream on. So I used most of the rest of the cream there.
My lower stomach and groin, my balls, and the whole area between my legs
and between the cheeks of my bottom. By this stage my cock was semi-
erect, so I made sure the shaft was well coated too.
I stood there in front of the washbasin with my legs apart while I shaved
my face, waiting for the cream to do its work. The cream had by this time
been on my legs for the recommended time, but there was no tingling or
burning sensation. I left it a bit longer to ensure that the cream would
have enough time to work on the other areas. Especially the parts I had
covered last.
I stood under the shower. It was only necessary to rub the treated areas
gently for the hairs to become removed and flushed away. I was surprised
how much hair went down the shower drain. Now my only body hair was what
was on my head. It suddenly occurred to me that my head hair, being
fairly long, was as feminine as the lack of hair on my legs. I used some
shower gel, partly because it claimed to be moisturising, but mainly to
cover the strange smell of the depilatory cream.
I dried myself on a towel, noticing how smooth my legs were now. Not just
because they were hairless, but the cream treatment left the surface of
the skin as smooth as glass. My balls were soft and smooth like a baby's.
Well, a bit larger than a baby's. Or even than a little boy's. But
certainly as soft and hairless as those of a little boy being dressed up
in pretty knickers by his cousin. I remembered the little boy doll with
his little cock and balls tucked into his panties...
I got dressed, still thinking about that little boy doll in a dress. And
how my cousin had shown it to me. And then I remembered how conveniently
to hand had been the pack of depilatory cream that she had handed me. Her
invitation to use the cream if I wanted to feel girly. I told myself that
I hadn't consciously decided that I wanted her to dress me up as her
little doll again. I had used the depilatory cream because it was there.
I hadn't ever thought of buying any for myself. I didn't have to go round
to my cousin's if I didn't want to. And even if I did go, I didn't have
to take the tube of depilatory cream (that was now almost empty). I
didn't have to tell her that I'd used it. I didn't have to let her put me
in a dress and knickers, to pretend that I was a little girl.
But by about 11 o'clock I realised that I would be going to her house.
And handing her the used pack of depilatory cream.
And what would happen then?
Miracle
- 22.09.2020
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