Nandita To Nandini
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Compulsion And Replacement free porn video
Compulsion and Replacement.
A short story featuring my usual niche subject - rainwear
A young man left alone for a day explores the spare room and a box of old
clothes, the results of which are catastrophic or entrancing depending on
your point of view
John was rooting round in the spare room when he came across a box of old
clothes. They must have belonged to his grandma and forgotten when she
passed away. In a desultory way he looked through the contents amused by
the unfashionable garments and faintly disgusted when a few pairs of red
rubber incontinence pants came to light formed like Victorian bloomers
with frills below where the knee would be. The box also contained old
lady corsetry, petticoats, dresses and coats. He wondered why on earth
anyone would wear this stuff. He turned to repack the clothes when he was
struck by an unaccountable desire to try the things on. That would be
silly he reasoned but the urge stayed.
His parents were away and they trusted the 16 year old to look after
himself, he was quite a big lad and, truth be told, quite a bully at
school. Given that no one would know what he was up to, he gave way to
his odd impulse and began to select an outfit . First he chose a pair of
the odd bloomers, he could not have explained why, he just had to. This
was followed by a rigidly boned corselet, which moulded his shape into a
feminine configuration, with a narrow waist pushing displaced flesh up
into the integral bra and compressed his strangely excited member flat
against his abdomen and the smooth rubber of the bloomers. A silky
camisole slipped over his head and was joined by a stiffly skirted
petticoat. Inevitably he chose a mid calf full skirted dress in black
satin to complete the ensemble. The room had a full length mirror which
gave John the opportunity to admire himself as he twirled and flounced in
this old fashioned outfit. Something however was not quite right, of
course, his hair.! He quickly scoured the box contents recalling feeling
something hairy and sure enough there was a grey wig in an old lady
permed style. Standing in front of the mirror again he donned the wig,
fussing with it until he felt happy and then stood back to review the
effect.
John was amazed and pleased at the sight, just a few more additions and
his impulses would be satisfied. First footwear, the box provided some
heavyweight knee length silk stockings and patent leather black 3" block
heeled shoes. With some difficulty because of the rigid cosetry John had
to sit in an old overstuffed armchair to pull up the stockings and trap
them under the ruffles of his bloomers. The shoes too proved a trial but
eventually he managed. Once again he paraded the entire outfit before the
mirror and was entranced by what he saw. In his eyes he had become the
very model of an elderly lady in a fashionably elegant outfit. Looking
closely he thought he detected facial wrinkles appropriate to the age he
had assumed. Also, his mouth felt strange and when he inspected his teeth
he found they were improbably white and suddenly. realised they were
dentures! He reached up to check his wig and discovered it was no longer
a wig but his own hair. These revelations did not have the devastating
impact on John one would expect, oddly he took them in with insouciance
and revelled in the other changes he discovered, his breasts were real
and fortunately well supported by the bra, he was much smaller and
frailer, his voice was high pitched and slightly quavery. It seemed that
his manhood no longer pressed thrillingly against the bloomers but rather
a different, moist needy void had replaced it.
The spare room seemed to have changed into a fussy, frill bedecked
bedroom. Out of the window he noted that cars parked in the rainswept
street were much older styles than normal and he determined to go outside
to investigate further. He checked the wardrobe which had appeared in the
new decor looking for a suitable coat to wear, hanging up were many
dresses, coats and raincoats. He rejected a translucent PVC mack as too
plain and a glossy red PU one as too brassy and settled upon a pair of
thin rubber lined nylon silk ones, one red and one black. He chose the
black one which he donned luxuriating in the feel of the smooth lining as
it slid up his arms and caressed his body swishing around his legs,
buttoning it securely and cinching the belt tight. He lifted the black
hood carefully over his permed gray hair and tied its ties in a neat bow
ensuring the turnback of the voluminous material was evenly arranged.
Stepping confidently out of the room, his mack deliciously sussurating
over his satin skirts and petticoats with a harmonic rustle from the
bloomers as he descended the stairs. He stopped by the front door to pick
up the post and amongst the usual advertising rubbish was a letter
addressed to Mrs. Joanne Rushbury. Rushbury he knew was his mother's
maiden name but he didn't know a Joanne, then it struck him, it must be
his grandmother's name. Apparently she had lived with his parents until
she died, a year or so before he was born. Intrigued, he opened it and
found it was a confirmation letter for his grandma's placement at a Care
home some 20 miles away from here. Mystery! John had not realised she was
in a Care home. Still puzzled John opened the front door and saw his
former next door neighbour Mr Dawkins rushing in to his porch out of the
pouring rain. Mr Dawkins paused to shout a greeting, "Morning Joanne,
filthy weather eh?"
John automatically responded, "It certainly is, Robert. You look after
yourself."
Moving on to the drive, John realised that Mr. Dawkins had died 5 years
sgo and he hadn't known his first name. Furthermore he had called him
'Joanne'. In a way that was a relief that be hadn't been exposed as some
cross dressing wierdo but what on earth was goin on?
After a few steps down the drive, John turned to look back at the house
and noticed that the windows and front door were no longer double glazed
which they. had been for John's entire life. The garage door was ajar but
no light was on. He paused in his mission to check the street and went to
investigate . Inside the darkness of the garage he heard someone moving
around, so he fumbled for the light. He was astonished to see an image of
himself dressed in his usual casual clothes.
"Hi John," said the apparition, "glad that you found all the clothes I
left for you, I must say you look very smart and that mack suits you
beautifully, you must take the others with you to the Home, you will be a
sensation.
I suppose I'd better explain, you see I was very hurt and angry when I
found that your parents planned to shuffle me off to that home because
they wanted to have a child and didn't want the bother of an old lady
around as well. My anger fuelled a curious magical rift in time so that
if I was able to get you to try on my clothes in your time I would be
able to take your body in exchange for mine and transport you back to the
point I was to enter the Care Home as me. When you found the box of my
old clothes, I compelled you to put on my clothes, you hardly put up any
resistance, rufty tufty bully boy John happily puts on his grandma's
clothes, what a laugh!
Now you are going to be a good little old lady and enjoy your very few
remaining years in the company of old dears, being cared for by well
meaning staff who know what is best for you. You won't make a fuss
because you are really a weak minded submissive and have already happily
embraced your new role as me. Your short life will be spent rustling
round in rubber incontinence pants under fussy petticoats, old lady
mackintoshes and rainbonnets and you will love every minute of it .
You'll need the rigid corsetry you now relish to ease your back and
support your saggy boobs.
As for me, I'm going to enjoy taking over your life and transforming John
from the thuggish bully boy into a sensitive M2F transgender, destroying
your parents hopes and ambitions for you.
Ah! Here comes the Care home transport now so off you go Joanne, I
promise to visit ......your grave.
Cheryl
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