Dolly Part 4
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Dolly - Part 3 free porn video
The next morning I woke to the smell of coffee. I could hear Mummy
downstairs. I got out of bed and read the instructions about using the
epilator. Then I carefully used it. It was surprising that it found a few
hairs that I hadn't noticed. There was a little prickling sensation as
each hair was removed. Each time, it felt as if the epilator was removing
a bit of my maleness. This was quite a pleasing idea, but I realised that
it would be rather painful if the epilator was able to grab a lot of
hairs at the same time. Clearly I would have to use it every day to avoid
this possibility.
I removed my sleep bra, noticing that my boobies were still firmly
attached to my chest. They felt rather heavy without the bra spreading
the load to my shoulders. I had a close shave and then stepped into the
shower. I enjoyed the sensation of soaping my tits; I just wished they
were real. I went back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around me.
Mummy was waiting for me. She dried my feet and then applied nail varnish
to my toes. Then she told me to finish drying myself and to put my bra
and knickers on. She spent several minutes using the Velcro rollers in my
hair again. She helped me with my make-up and then helped me put the
suspender-belt on, allowing me to tighten and then tie the laces myself.
She checked that the nail varnish on my toes was dry, and then told me to
put on a clean pair of stockings. She helped me into the dollie dress I
had worn the day before. "You should put on clean knickers and stockings
every day," she said. "You should wash them every night before you get
into bed and leave them to dry overnight in the bathroom. I let you off
last night because you were obviously very tired. You can wash your used
things now before you come down to breakfast."
After breakfast we had another day shopping. I bought even more knickers
and some skirts and blouses. Mummy bought me a teen bra. I could see from
the illustration on the pack that it was meant for girls who hadn't yet
developed breasts. "You can wear it under your male clothes during the
week," she explained as we left the store. "It won't give you a girly
shape, but you will be able to feel that you're wearing a bra, even if
no-one else knows." She bought me some items of make-up and we had a
light lunch before returning to her house. "Well," she said a short while
later, "I think that playtime is nearly over for this weekend. I'd better
help you get ready to go home."
We went to my bedroom. She helped be out of my dress and I took my bra
off. I stood in my knickers and stockings and heels while she used some
solvent and a little cotton wool to carefully unstick my boobies. I
watched carefully. "You might want to sponge off your chest now," she
said. I went to the bathroom to do this, and also to remove my make-up
and brush the curls out of my hair. When I returned to the bedroom I
brought my washed knickers and stockings, which were now dry. "Good
girl," said Mummy approvingly. She helped me on with the teen bra,
adjusting the straps to ensure a good and comfortable fit. "Now this is
your everyday bra," she said. "You are my dolly now and my sissy dolly
has to wear a bra everyday. If you are at home wearing a skirt, you can
wear your normal bra and pad the cups out with something to give yourself
the shape of a bust. But this bra is what you must wear when you're
pretending to be a boy. Is that clear?" I nodded. "You need to say it,"
she ordered. "Yes, Mummy. I'm your sissy dolly and I must wear a bra
every day." She smiled sweetly. "That's a good sissy. And of course, it
goes without saying that if you are wearing a bra you must also be
wearing knickers." She looked at me. "Yes Mummy, I will wear a bra and
knickers every day."
"I expect you'd like to keep your suspenders and stockings on," she said,
clearly not expecting me to disagree. She left the room while I put on my
shirt and trousers, returning with a carrier bag. "You can take most of
your things home with you," she said. I expect you might like to play
dressing up on your own in the evenings. But you can't take your boobies
and the dress you've been wearing today. They're just for me to play with
you in. She put my nightie, epilator, make-up and shoes into the carrier
bag along with the washed items.
"Come on," she said. "I'll walk with you. You'll need some help carrying
all your shopping home." She was right. There were a lot of bags to
carry. And in addition, many of the bags bore the names of the stores we
had visited. Stores specialising in ladies wear and lingerie. If I'd been
struggling to carry them all on my own, people in the street might have
realised they were all things for me to wear. Perhaps they would then
have noticed that I was wearing a teen bra. Or caught a glimpse of a
nylon-clad ankle...
Once back at my place Mummy helped me unpack and to put things away.
"There's not enough room in these drawers to put all your new underwear
as well as all your boy pants," she said. "I'll take the boy pants away
with me. Then there will be enough space for all your knickers." She
clearly didn't expect me to refuse. And I didn't. "You'll have to think
about making more space in your wardrobe as well, "she went on. "There's
probably loads of things that you don't wear very often. You could store
them in a suitcase or something if you don't want to throw them all out.
But your nice new skirts and dresses should be hung up properly so they
don't get creased."
"I expect you'd like to come round and play again?" said Mummy. I nodded.
"I'll ring you and tell you when you can come. It won't be every weekend.
I do have other things I need to do at weekends and I expect you have
too. But it won't be too long, I promise you". She gave me a little hug
and then looked at me expectantly. "Thank you, Mummy," I said. "Good
girl," she replied and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. She also
fondled my bottom as if to remind me I was wearing knickers. "Now make
sure you have a glass handy in each room," she told me. "Just in case you
need to squirt any sissy juices. And if you do, make sure you swallow it
all. It will make you feel more girly. Always remember - good girls
swallow!"
After she had left I took off my boy clothes. I removed my teen bra and
put on my full size one. I stuffed the cups with some pairs of knickers.
It was rather disappointing. I had the shape of a bust, but not the
weight of one. It didn't feel part of me. I put my little black dress on
along with my heels. At least I could show off my nyloned legs - the hem
of the skirt was several inches above the knee.
But I missed my tits.
Even though I was disappointed with the "home" version of my bust, I
found it was necessary to use the handy glass to relieve the pressure
that had built up as a result of wearing the little black dress around my
home. I did have the presence of mind to remove my best dress before
dealing with the swelling. And I remembered to swallow. Like a good girl.
I washed my worn undies and stockings before going to bed in my nightie.
As I was Mummy's obedient sissy dolly, I wore my teen bra under my male
clothes when I went to work on Monday. Nobody seemed to notice. But I
could feel it all the time. The straps gripped gently, not uncomfortably,
but insistently enough to keep reminding me that I was wearing a bra.
And, at least some of the time, to wish that I had real tits. Also, of
course, I was wearing silky knickers. I didn't have any other underwear
now. They felt different from boy pants too. Deliciously different. The
smooth fabric sliding against the cheeks of my bottom as I walked. I
could feel the gently elasticated leg-holes around the tops of my thighs,
helping to contain my bits; my hairless balls nestling in the double
gusset...
After work I did some food shopping on the way home, then changed into a
blouse and skirt. I left my teen bra on, but wore my suspender belt and a
pair of stockings. I was surprised to find that the buttons on the blouse
were on the opposite side to male shirts. I wondered why. But when the
buttons were fastened you didn't really notice the difference. The blouse
was tailored and fitted snugly around my waist. It was rather looser
around the area where my bust should have been, but it struck me that if
I wore a tie with it, and a jacket over it, no-one would notice. I tried
it and looked in the mirror. It looked fine to me. At least the upper
part of my body looked like a male office worker. If you ignored the
skirt and nylons. And when I wore a blouse to work later in the week, no-
one seemed to notice. I decided to get some more blouses. Now that I knew
what size I needed.
Each time the phone rang at home, I felt my pulse quicken. Would it be
Mummy calling to invite me to be her dolly at the weekend? But no. By
bedtime Friday I realised that my hopes of having bouncy tits again that
weekend had been dashed. It didn't stop me wearing a skirt and heels to
do my housework, with a bust shape provided by stuffed bra-cups. But...
Mummy didn't call the following week either. But she did call the
following week and so I had a wonderful weekend with bouncy boobies
attached. More shopping - blouses, nighties, dresses. And a housecoat to
wear when I was doing the hoovering or ironing. Mummy's expert fingers
helped me relieve the swelling on more than one occasion. But it was sad
when Sunday afternoon arrived and I had to remove my lovely tits.
It seemed like the routine would last forever. Once every few weeks, I
would spend the weekend at Mummy's house, being her sissy dolly and
enjoying the special pleasure of bouncy boobies. In between I would go to
work in bra, knickers and blouse. And sometimes suspenders and stockings
as well. All hidden under male outer attire, of course. In the privacy of
my home, I changed into a dress or skirt, often (but not always) with a
stuffed bra. But whether I wore my teen bra, or a normal bra padded out
with knickers, I would be anticipating the next visit to Mummy. And
having my bouncy tits stuck onto my chest.
But then I got another phone call from Mummy. She told me the next
weekend visit would be the last. "I'm getting married," she explained. "I
won't be able to play dollies with you any more. I'll have my husband to
look after." I wondered what she meant by "look after". Did he know what
that might mean? She went on to say that he would be moving in with her
in a week or two's time, and that the wedding ceremony would be a couple
of months later. "I'll send you an invitation, of course." she promised.
"But I'll make this weekend special for you. Come round at 11 o'clock on
Saturday morning."
I knew that when she said 11 o'clock she meant exactly 11 o'clock. Not
later. Nor earlier. On the dot.
Brandy
- 04.08.2021
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