Date: Mon, 24 Oct 2016 12:22:03 -0400 From: Full Name Subject: TS/Teen Chrissy Takes Her Panties Off (Revised) This is a revised, edited, and polished version of the original "Chrissy Takes Her Panties Off". It leans a bit more to the romantic side than most of my stories, but I think you'll find Chrissy's sexy dressing pretty arousing. I haven't referred to any of my star characters as "tgirls" in quite awhile. And I've never used "trannies", "shemales", etc. My "special girls" are just that, and that only. In my recent stories, you may have noticed all of my stars have been "bottoms" only. My intentions are for it to stay that way. All of this, I think, makes my "special" characters more feminine. Please note that I took some liberties with Kleinfelter Syndrome. This is fiction and fantasy, and please donate to Nifty. If you don't, how can you read other stories like this? http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html If it's illegal for you to read this for whatever reason, then don't. I welcome comments, and I respond to all emails: lovepinkpumps@excite.com Chrissy Takes Her Panties Off REVISED By PinkPumps Introduction Hello! My name is Chrissy Stewart. But I was born Christopher Stewart, 16 years ago. In the opening chapter, I'll tell you my story as my Mom told it to me. Beginning with Chapter 2, it's what happened exactly as I remember it, with Mom filling in details as needed. Chapter 1 During my one-year pediatric examination, the doctor noticed something that most doctors might have missed. And for this, I will be eternally grateful. He sat down with Mom to explain: "Mrs. Stewart, I want to say upfront that Christopher is very healthy and I can see you're doing a fine job caring for him. But there's something that concerns me, and I'm ill-equipped to properly make a definitive diagnosis. I would like to refer you to a specialists who can. Please don't be worried." That was easy for him to say, right? HIS concern made MOM even MORE concerned. Within a week, Mom and I were at the specialist's office. I was poked and prodded, sent through a series of x-rays, a CAT scan, an MRI, had blood drawn, et al. It took two weeks for the tests to be analyzed. So here we were, back again at the specialist's office. He started by saying: "You're very lucky the pediatrician made his catch. Christoper's condition is either misdiagnosed or misunderstood in many cases. But I want to assure you that your baby can lead a perfectly normal life. "However, if you choose to follow my advice and counseling, dramatic life-style changes will be required. Whether you follow my recommendations is left completely up to you. But I have every reason to believe your baby will be fine and happy. And so will you." He went on to explain DNA tests confirmed that I was born with Kleinfelter Syndrome, which means I have a double set of X chromosomes and one Y chromosome. I'm XXY, making me almost 70% female. The specialist said my testicles would never fully develop, and my penis would always be much smaller than normal. That underdevelopment is what caught the pediatrician's attention, even at my very young age. It was highly unlikely that I would ever produce very much sperm, and even if I did, the chances of creating little floaters would be almost nil. But I would learn, I'm pleased to say, my almost dry cums are intense. If they were more so, they might actually kill me. On top of that, I'm multiorgasmic. "Mrs. Stewart," he said, "I can see the concern on your face. Allow me to be more reassuring. Klienfelter Syndrome is very rare, but I've seen it and have successfully counseled parents. There is no `cure', per se. But in ALL of my cases, I'm proud to say, the children and parents are extremely happy with the advice I give. That is, if you choose to follow it. "Because the XXY babies are more female than male," he continued, "I recommend that they be raised as female. This is where my specialty lies. Those parents who choose not to follow my recommendations – and it's perfectly fine if they do not – are sent to a fellow specialist who deals with them." Mm asked, "What are the life-style changes if I choose to raise my son as my daughter?" He told her that I should begin a hormone regimen consisting of testosterone blockers and estrogen as soon as I was old enough, probably around 12, at the onset of puberty. At some point, I should be able to avoid the testosterone blockers altogether, since I would be producing very little testosterone on my own. And because of the estrogen, I probably would not need a boob job if I was lucky. I would be lucky. And because of the Kleinfelter's, I would have had a femmy voice and invisible Adam's apple even without the hormones. In high school, I sounded like an innocent sexy little girl, and the boys seemed very taken by it. "Your baby has dainty features, and I already see them developing nicely," the specialist said. "From the x-rays, I see your baby has unique bone structure for a one-year old – small hands and feet. That's good, if your choice is to raise your baby as female. "Your baby's facial features will be beautiful, I can say with confidence. Not unlike yours, if you don't mind my saying so. If you do decide to raise your fine baby as female, I have no doubt that she will be strikingly beautiful." Mom noticed that for the first time, he used the word "she." The doctor told Mom he would give her time to discuss things with my father, but the decision to raise me as male or female had to be made soon. He said some of the patients he counsels into young adulthood choose gender reassignment surgery. But that decision would be years down the road, and should be left to me. "Female," said Mom, without hesitation. "I choose female. I'm a lawyer and I'll begin the process tomorrow to legally change Christopher's name and birth certificate to Christine Stewart. Christine is my mother's name, and I think I'll call my little girl Chrissy." "Wouldn't you like to consult first with your husband?" the doctor asked. "That won't be necessary," Mom said. She thanked a puzzled doctor and told him she would see him again soon. Mom already knew what the outcome would be if my situation was left open for debate: My father would see it as his son being taken away, only to be replaced by a freak. I'm not a freak, of course – I'm just special, and she didn't think he could handle it. That evening, Mom told him about diagnoses, the symptoms, and the decision to raise me as Chrissy. She was emphatic that this was the right decision; it the best decision; the ONLY decision. Mom was right: He couldn't handle it. The next day he was gone. I don't think she ever looked for him, not that she didn't love him – but my welfare came first to her. And she's financially independent and certainly didn't need child support, so what was the point? As you already know, Mom is an attorney practicing at a Colorado firm, and quickly rising toward full partnership. But Mom had always wanted to open her own practice, and she knew our neighbors would soon see that my father was gone, notice she was raising a little girl instead of the little boy they all knew about, and begin to wonder what was going on. The neighbors knew Christoper, but not Christine. There was a chance an unfair stigma would be attached to me as long as we remained. So we left Colorado and moved to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where she hung out a shingle and bought a big house. Chapter 2 Early on, I wondered why I didn't have a "Daddy" like the other children – I vividly remember that. She would simply say it didn't matter. That was plenty good enough for me. Before I go on, I should tell you about Mom. "Drop-dead gorgeous" doesn't come close to describing her. She has strawberry blond hair that cascades and flows past her shoulders. Her full but trimmed pubic bush is a little darker in color. And she has VERY green eyes. She's six-feel tall, and I've been told she's intimidating in court because of it. Mom was never interested in the pageant circuit, but I'm 100% certain she would have been a star if she had. Please remember that. It'll be important later. Instead, she concentrated on swimming, tennis, cross-country and track in high school, with a lot of cycling thrown in. She was actually on a swimming scholarship in college. She still runs, cycles, and swims regularly; in addition to aerobics, yoga, and tennis. The result of her hard workouts is the sweetest toned ass and legs east of the Rockies ... even west, too, probably. Mom has the perfect and plump upside-down heart-shaped ass women dream of. She has 36C titties, which actually look smaller on her six-foot frame. Please don't forget the beautiful bone structure the specialist noted. She's perfect, by any measure. On top of that, she's Mensa Society smart, and if there's a gene for that, it was passed to me. That'll be important in a bit, too. Mom hates pantyhose, so if there's an anti-pantyhose gene as well, that's another I inherited. She dresses in conservative business suits during the day, adding opaque thigh-highs and three-inch pumps. What else would a woman lawyer choose? But at night when Mom was going out, if she wore anything but sheer stockings with a garterbelt, or just-as-sheer lace-top thigh-highs, I don't know about it. And five-inch stiletto pumps or strappy sandals, of course. All of this is important for you to know. I dress at lot like her at now. Even hotter, people say I LOOK just like her. Chapter 3 Mom and I bathed together and slept together for years. We always slept in the nude. I was around six years old, I guess, when I began to notice Mom's boobies, and asked her why she had them and I didn't. Later in bed, she explained breasts grow as a woman approaches adulthood. Mine would, too, she said. I was too young to understand what the hormones would do – and she knew that – so she didn't get into it. "Okay. So you have big ones and I will, too. Someday. But what are they FOR?" I asked. "When babies are born, Mommies naturally have milk in their breasts for their babies to feed on," she said. That led to my obvious question: "You have milk in your bobbies! Can I have some?" She giggled and told me mothers' milk dries up naturally when Mommies have breast fed long enough for their babies to age and grow stronger. "It makes the babies healthier than bottle feeding," she explained. "But I can show you how I breast fed you. There won't be milk in them now, but I can show you how you sucked Mommy's boobies." And she did. I couldn't get enough of those things, and she loved it when I licked, sucked and lightly nibbled on her diamond-hard nipples. One night – I might have been seven; maybe eight – while I was sucking her titties, Mom moved her hand down to my peepee and used two fingers to gently pinch the tiny head, then stroke the pencil-thin shaft. Gosh, I liked that! After she'd done that for awhile, I tingled all over – especially on my peeny and in my tummy. She taught me about her sensitive clit and how to make her feel as good as I felt. I learned how to gently finger her pussy – I could actually get my little hand all the way in back then – and suck lightly on her clit. She showed me how to finger her pooper, as well. After awhile, I asked why she had a pussy and I had a little circumcised one-inch thingy between my legs. She just hugged me and said, "You can have what I have when you're old enough, if that's what you want." I had no idea what that meant. Mom can have any man she desires, but her dating was limited when I was young because she dedicated weekends to me. We ate out, shopped, went to moves, the beach, and all that. Still, Mom had her needs for a man, and a lack of fucking was never a problem for her. One of Mom's skills as a lawyer is gleaning information from a person without them even knowing it. And by being able to do that, she weeded out those who could not meet a certain criteria she began looking for. Finally, she found her man; a man who was totally open to me watching them fuck. Mom – for the most part a heels and hose lover, as I said – was completely naked that night. She told me in advance that she might cry out, but not to worry about it; it was just a sign that she was feeling very good. The first time I saw the man's big circumcised cock, I was mesmerized. So there I sat – right on the side of the bed! I was wearing only a pair of white, pink-lace trimmed cotton panties. And I was still as flat as a board, of course. But my bootie had a noticeable curve forming between it and my lower back. My asscheeks were filling out very well. In any other situation, I would have been a pedophile's wet dream, but Mom was certain this man was not that at all, or she wouldn't have allowed him near me. The man and Mom went through the whole routine for me – kissing, her sucking cock, him eating pussy, fucking, coming ... She even let him put his monster in her pootie. I couldn't believe that thing could fit in that tiny hole, but it did, and she went wild. I would realize later that she was showing me the joys of anal sex. Chapter 4 When I was in the first grade, Mom enrolled me in a private school with all the "fixins'," as we say in North Carolina. The girls wear red and blue plaid pleated skirts with white blouses. When it's chilly, we can choose between blue sweaters or blazers with the school crest. And we wear opaque white tights (ugh!) and white Mary Jane's with two-inch heels. We can move to white three-inch pumps in high school if we wanted to. I would want to, as I'm sure you can guess. Hell, I've pushed them out to four-inchers (and wear opaque white lace-top thigh highs!), and get away with it. I guess the male teachers like looking at a pretty teen with her boobies thrust out, and her hiney swaying enticingly because of the taller heels. You DO know heels do that to a girl, right? And the hems of my skirts have slowly crept higher and higher as well, exposing more and more of my LONG legs. If there were complaints from the women, I suppose the lustful eyes of men overrode them, huh? The boys wear khaki pants, white shirts with school-color ties, blue blazers with the school crest, and their shoes are tan "bucks." This is their attire for the full 12 years. Not that it's important – I just wanted you to know. The first few weeks of elementary school were terrible for me. I adored my teachers and they really cared for me, but none of my classmates would play with me. NONE. Mom and I were watching TV one night, and I snuggled up against her and started to cry. "Baby!" said Mom. "What's wrong?" I was crying so hard by then that I was gasping. "Are you hurt, Chrissy?" "No," I sniffled. "It's just that nobody will play with me at school." She let me compose myself, then said, "Honey, I know what's wrong. It happened to me when I was your age. You don't understand this now, but you will. The girls are jealous of you because you're so pretty. And the boys are shy because you're taller than they are. Just give it time. It'll be alright. I promise." And it really did work out fine for me, as you'll see, but I sure couldn't figure out how at the time. Needless to say, I couldn't play organized sports where I had to dress with other girls, so I went to soccer practice already in my uniform. I did the same in track, cross country, swimming and tennis. Even though I was tall, I never played basketball in middle school or high school because of the dressing-room deal. And while we're on the subject of sports – I don't feel like I have an unfair physical advantage. I have two X chromosomes just like a biological girl, and I actually produce less natural testosterone than they do. I got my height from my Mom, not my Y chromosome. But I DO have an advantage because I outwork every girl in school. What I have is more than earned. And by the time I was a senior in high school, I was two years younger than my teammates. (I'll tell you about that later.) So screw any thought that I have a physical advantage just because of some small amount of male DNA. Through athletics, I developed lean and firm muscles in places a girl wants them. Have you ever heard the term "a well turned leg"? It means "shapely; sensuous; defined" and mine definitely are. In heels, they're killers. And don't forget the perfect ass – that's another thing I got from Mom. But all that's to come ... Chapter 6 Mom and I lived next door to the McDonald brothers, and we attended the same school. Mark was eight, Andrew four years older than Mark, and Alex four years older than Andrew. Alex had a drivers license and a car! Well, it was a Jeep actually, which is great for the Outer Banks. One day when Mom was going to be tied up in court, she asked Alex if he minded if I caught a ride home with them after school. He was more than willing. And since they lived right next door, I'd already started playing with the brothers. They were really the only friends I had. The next fall, I started to ride to and from school with them every day. Mark and I – because we were the youngest – usually sat in the backseat. When he looked at me – even glanced my way – I would feel something in my tummy that I didn't understand; but not unlike my tummy flipped when Mom played with my peepee. The first warm Saturday of spring, our doorbell rang. When Mom answered, all three of the McDonald brothers were standing on our porch. Like a lot of the houses on the Outer Banks, our porch runs all the way around it, and the upstairs windows are gabled. The sea breeze on the Outer Banks flowing through them is so nice. But that's not all important to my story. Just wanted you to know. Alex said, "Mrs. Stewart, we're headed to the beach and wondered if Chrissy would like to come with us." I'd heard the doorbell and I'd just made it from my room to the head of the stairs when I heard Alex. I ran down the stairs screaming, "Can I Mom!!!?? Can I go to the beach with them!!!??? Please!!!" Mom said it was fine, but told the boys to be sure I was buckled in for the ride. Mom said that every single time I got in Alex's Jeep. "Chrissy, go upstairs and change into the white tank suit we just bought," said Mom. "Put one of the sundresses you like so much over it and grab some beach towels." I love bikinis and look good in them, but there's something about a tank I love just as much. A tank lifts your ass and makes it more prominent; even more so if it's cut high on your hips and low in back. I made a mad dash upstairs, stripped off my clothes, pulled on my tank, grabbed a pretty pale yellow mid-thigh-length sundress and slipped it on. I was downstairs in a flash. So off we went for the first of many "Beach Days" together. We were all excited since it was the first time we'd been to the beach that year – the first time I'd been with them, period – and it was still fairly early in the morning when we arrived. I don't have to tell you chasing, and being chased, by super-athletic older boys all day is exhausting! By the time we packed up for home at sundown, I was curled up in a beach towel, fast asleep. Alex picked me up and we headed for the Jeep. He didn't want to wake me, so he didn't put my sundress back on. I was still asleep when we got to the car. Alex buckled me in, and Mark joined me in the backseat, as usual. I was so out of it and leaning so far forward, I was about to slip out of the seat belt. "Chrissy can't ride like that," Alex said. "Mark, pick her up and put her on your lap and buckle up together. That's not the safest thing to do, but it's better than her sliding completely out of the seat belt." Mark reached over, unbuckled me and pulled me onto his lap. He told me later I wrapped my arms around his neck and I kissed him on the cheek, then fell back to sleep. He also told me later he got a stiffy when I inadvertently wiggled my little ass against his crotch getting comfortable. A seven year old's cute ass did that to him! Still asleep when we got home, Alex carried me upstairs and laid me on my bed. Mom had left a note saying she would be home late, and asked one of the brothers to stay with me. Being the youngest of the brothers, Mark was stuck with the boring task. Or maybe not so boring. You'll see. So Alex and Andrew left Mark with me. Alone together. In bed. I woke up long enough to realize Mark was beside me. I laid my head on his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck again, looping a long bare leg over him. (Thanks for leaving off the sundress, Alex!) Mark was getting sleepy, too. He told me he tried SO HARD to stay awake, but sleep won. The next thing he knew, Mom was shaking him gently. "Mark, wake up, honey. Wake up. It's time to go home. Your mom's holding dinner for you." Mark realized where he was, who he was in bed and tangled up with, and went into full-panic mode. "Mrs. Stewart, it's not what it looks like! I swear!" he pleaded. She laughed at first, then teased him a little: "So what does it look like, Mark?" "Well, I'm old enough to know I shouldn't be in bed with Chrissy. I hear my brothers talk sometimes. It's not like that at all!" "Mark, sweetie, calm down," Mom laughed again. "When the day comes that I can't trust you with her, we'll move. You know we'll NEVER have to move." Mark managed to unwind from me and stand. Mom placed her hands on his cheeks and said, "Mark, Chrissy feels like your little sister sometimes, and she feels safe with you. Is that okay? I love knowing you care about her and would protect her." Whatever Mark said to her left no doubt he would. Chapter 5 Three years and what had to be 100 "Beach Days" later, we arrived at my house to find another note from Mom. She said she would be late, but it was okay for Mark and me to walk down to the pier if we wanted. So I dashed upstairs to take a quick shower. Mark showered in the guest room, then pulled on some shorts and a polo shirt he had in his gym bag. I put on a training bra and cotton panties. I was wearing training bras then only because the other girls my age were and would have teased me if I hadn't. I wasn't dressing with them – I told you that – but you could see through our white blouses enough to tell who wore them and who didn't. But I had NOTHING to put in it because I hadn't started on hormones. I was so excited, I forgot to put on a clean sundress. I made it to the bottom of the stairs before I realized it. I looked at Mark, who was doing his best not to stare. What a gentleman, right? But how could he miss the fact that there I was in just my undies! Tears began flowing – I was so ashamed – and I tried to cover up with my arms and hands. Mark walked over, wrapped his arms around me and said, "Chrissy, how many times have I seen you in a bikini? How many times have I seen you in a sports bra and little running shorts? This is no different, so don't be embarrassed." We hugged for awhile. Damn, I was loving it so much I kissed him on the cheek again. It was just impulsive. I couldn't help it. He turned SO red. Sort of trying to defuse the situation, I said, "Thanks, big brother." Then I hustled upstairs and pulled on a short baby-blue sundress, remained barefoot, and ran back downstairs. Mark told me later that me in a short sundress – my long tan legs and bare feet exposed – was actually a very sexy look. I guess I looked innocent but hot. Quite a feat, huh? So we headed for the pier, and I reached for his hand. This time it wasn't an impulse, and I could have helped it. He didn't pull away. Chapter 7 One day later on, Mark and I were alone at my house watching a movie. He slid his hand over and took mine, even though he knew his friends would tease him unmercifully if he got caught holding a 10-year-old girl's hand. We looked into each eyes, really for the first time ever. His eyes are so blue! He told me later my green eyes are "dazzling." I broke the silence: "Mark, when you saw me in my undies that day, it wasn't the same as seeing me in a bikini, or a sports bra and little shorts, was it?" "No," he said. "Would you like to see me in my undies again?" "Very much." So I slipped off my sundress while he stripped down to his tighty-whites. He didn't ask if he could do that, but he knew me well enough to know I wouldn't object. I crawled onto his lap. "It wasn't the same for me, either. My tummy felt funny. I don't feel like that unless I'm with you. I'm not just your little sister anymore, am I?" "No, you're way more than just my little sister." I laid my head on his shoulder and said, "Mark, I know you're going to girl-boy parties now and kissing the girls your age. I think that's great! I'm happy for you, really. Do you like to kiss girls, Mark?" He hesitated a moment, then said, "Yeah, it's nice." "Would you teach me how to kiss?" I whispered. "You're two years older than me, so if you don't want to, it's okay" He didn't say anything, but I knew the answer to my question was yes. I straddled him and he wrapped his arms around me and gave me my very first tongue kiss. It was sloppy and awkward on my part, I admit. But oh, fuck! So this is what it's like! Chapter 8 A couple of years later – I was 12 and Mark 14 – our little game started to evolve. While straddling Mark, we would grind our pelvises together. Almost always, I'd have a dry cum. And ... ah ... when Mark came, it definitely was NOT dry. It was a rush to realize a 12-year-old special girl could make a make a 14-year-old blond blue-eyed hunk soak his tighty-whities. I was letting Mark touch my little titty bumps through my bra now (yup, started hormones!), but he'd never actually seen them. I was even letting him put his hands down the back of my panties to feel my bare bootie. But I told him before letting him do that if he ever tried to touch me between my legs – even in panties – that was the end of it. He knew I meant it, too. I told him I wanted to wait before anyone saw me undressed completely. I also told him I wanted him to be the first when the time came, but that was a long way off and a lot could happen. But it was time for a LITTLE more, okay? I knew we were both getting close coming, so I just blurted out, "Would you like to see more of me?" He said, "Is this a trick question?" Remember that line from Sigourney Weaver's "Dana Barrett" in the first "Ghost Busters" movie? I did and giggled. "If you get to see more of me, I get to see more of you, right?" "Right," he said without hesitation. "Okay, get out of those tighty-whites, stud-muffin. I'll be right back." I went up to my bedroom and took off my undies. I put on very tiny pink cotton panties, a pair of pink four-inch patent-leather pumps, and walked back downstairs. The stairs were an adventure to navigate, even though Mom had started helping me walk in heels. Mark was naked and had a raging hard-on. It was beautiful! And six circumcised inches. Pretty nice for a 14 year old I'd find out later. Neither of us spoke, as I wiggled onto his lap, grinding onto his cock. I kissed him, then whispered, "Feel my boobies, please Mark. They're not much, but they're soooo sensitive!" He did, and very gently. My nipples hardened into granite. He placed his mouth on one and sucked. Then moved to the other. I came, and it was so easy! I moved off of his lap and began stroking his cock until he was about to cum, then I stopped. "If you like what we're doing now, we can do even more," I said. "You can feel my naked bottom and boobies all you want, but you still can't try put your hands in the front of my panties, and I won't take them off. Deal?" "Deal," he said. So I moved onto my knees and took his cock in my hand, examined it, then kissed the purple head. After I teased the head for awhile, I moved on to his shaft and cradled his balls. I looked into his eyes the whole time. After watching Mom that time, I sort of knew what to do. And even though this was my first cock to suck, Mark seemed lost. Bliss? After licking my way up and down the shaft for a minute or two, I took as much of his cock in my mouth as I could, and began to slowly bob up and down on it. It was a noisy, very wet suck job. When he was close to coming, he tapped me gently on the top of my head to let me know. I guess he was afraid to cum in my mouth, but I never stopped and he squirted several big ropes. I didn't quite swallow all of it, and some dribbled onto my chin and boobies. After a few seconds, Mark grabbed his polo shirt and cleaned me off as best he could. I moved back onto his lap. "Good ole safe Mark. Caring for his little sister again," I giggled. After about 15 minutes we started round two. That boy can get it back up with the best of them. Chapter 9 By the time I was 16 and Mark 18, the panties/heels/topless sessions began to evolve yet again. When I added lace-top thigh-highs to the combination, they became more intense. When I wore a garterbelt and stockings with the combination, they became atomic. My favorite set of lingerie included opaque white lace-top thigh-highs with pink bows at the top, and pink satin pumps (five inchers now!). I also like a black-lace garterbelt, sheer black stockings, and five-inch strappy stiletto sandals. I've even gone so far as to dress like a prostitute for Mark, and he likes it. I wear red seamed fishnet thigh-highs that are held up by what looks vintage ruffled red and black garters, even though they're attached to the fishnets. The shoes are strappy red seven-inch stripper heels with two-inch clear-plastic platforms. I guess I've just confirmed once again how much I love lingerie and heels, huh? Halloween night this year, Mark talked me into wearing the red fishnets and stripper heels to a costume party. My ultra-tight red Spandex dress was soooo short – dangerously short, if you catch my drift – it didn't cover the fake garters. And I added a devil's horns headband. Very much the whore look ... When Mark picked me up that night, he said, "Hey, babe! What's your price?" I giggled, "More than you can afford, hotshot!" Mark had asked me on several occasions to wear g-strings when we fooled around, and obviously I couldn't. I didn't have much, but in a g-string he would surely feel what little I had. But that night, I DID wear a red butt-flosser under my Halloween dress, and bent over enough during the party so that ONLY Mark got a glimpse of my naked bottom ... just to let him know his g-string wish was my command. I was a hit at the party, and easily won the Best Costume award. More importantly, I was a hit with Mark. He was as horney as my headband. Chapter 10 When we got home later, I went up to my bedroom and the safety of a pair of panties. That leads me to two other outfits I want to tell you about that I wear for Mark. I guess it goes without saying I really, really want Mark to fuck me, but I just couldn't let it happen yet. I still had issues when it came to baring all for him ... but I was working on them VERY hard. For the first one, let's start from the bottom up and move up, shall we? Then I'll tell you all about what it led to before I get to the second. The heels are strappy 5½-inch stiletto sandals in baby-blue. The stockings are extra special, too – sheer white with a big baby-blue satin bow on the backs of the lacy tops. Tiny baby-blue bows, spread about six inches apart, run down the backs of each. And they're REAL satin bows! NOT stenciled on. I wear white-lace panties and a faux-leather baby-blue micro-miniskirt. And finally, I wear a very sheer white ruffled halter top that teases my nipples and makes them rock hard. By the time I'd navigated the stairs in the tall heels, Mark was completely naked, and his now-seven-inch cock was on red alert. I gave him the very best suck I could. Mark came in my mouth and I swallowed every drop. Then it was my turn: I straddled Mark just like always and began to hump. He untied the halter straps on the back of my neck and let it fall, exposing my 32B-and-still-growing boobies. (Thank you hormones!) As he gently sucked, it wasn't long before I had an orgasm. Mark unlatched from that nipple and I moaned, "No, baby! Don't stop! Switch boobies! Almost there again!" The next orgasm was harder than the first, and I was actually shuddering. Mark held me ... almost in fear for my health until I told him how amazing that second cum was, and that I was going to live through it. It took less than 10 minutes for Mark to erect again, and we went at it. Okay, to the second one outfit ... as this one took all of my courage to wear the first time. I have an orange-vinyl spanking dress – naked pantyless ass exposed – but my front is safely covered. Still, no panties was asking a lot from me. But I had to start making some progress, or I'd never get to where I dreamed to go with Mark. The dress is almost ankle-length, with no slit. Needless to say, it was almost impossible to walk in ... especially when I added black six-inch stiletto pumps. Try it sometime if you don't believe it. Mark would never spank me, nor would I ask him to, but we both loved the feel of my bare bottom on his hard cock. After sitting on his lap for awhile, I would turn my back to him, place my stilettos on the floor and grind. Maybe one day I could make my living giving lap dances. Just joking ... Anyway, as I ground on his cock, I would let it slide into my asscrack, but certainly not into my hole. But god I wanted to! When Mark came, his warm love juice would bath my pooper-hole. As good as it felt ON my anal ring, I had sweet dreams about how great it must feel to have it deep IN me. I had to do more with Mark soon. A lot more, but actually doing it TERRIFIED me. It wasn't that I was ashamed; not at all. I just didn't think I could take it if Mark rejected me ... even worse, HATED me. Chapter 11 I'd managed to skip the sixth and ninth grades (that Mensa gene, remember?) and Mark and I were both seniors. We became an official item. As if there was any doubt left among our mutual friends. And I happy to say I finally found some female friends. Three thing that will be important later: 1. I decided to give up soccer, even though I loved the hell out of it. Because of my height, I'd become the goalie from hell. You can laugh, but I swear it's true. But the soccer season conflicted with football season and Mark was headed for football greatness – a true football hero. Even though football had evolved to one-way players – and that was pretty much the norm – Mark played both offense and defense. Running back on offense; bad-ass linebacker on defense. I'd been a cheerleader since middle school, and was elected head cheerleader my senior year. Our school is pretty small and the cheerleaders actually travel on the same bus with the football. So you can see my reasoning for deciding not to play soccer. I couldn't get enough of being close to him. 2. Before Mark and I began going steady, we were both in demand. I did the usual dating with other boys – the things you'd expect a high school girl to do, but I saved the big stuff for Mark ... proms, etc. 3. And then pussy. As in Mark getting some. Plenty of it. Believe it or not, I wasn't jealous at all, and even set him up several times. I wanted Mark to fuck as many girls as he could. Being special with a much tighter hole, I knew it was going to hurt, if and when and if I gave it up to Mark. I didn't want to be fucked like he was a horney rabbit with a big cock. I wanted a gentle touch the first time. I wanted him to have experience, if that makes any sense at all. I was also homecoming queen and most beautiful. If you think the football hero and the head cheerleader, homecoming queen and most beautiful is a fairy tale, just wait. I guess it was somewhat because of the most-beautiful thing that I started doing some modeling for a department store catalog. I didn't enjoy it very much. In fact, I hated it. I guess I feel the same way about modeling as Mom did. BUT, it did provide me with some cash of my own ... which Mark and I promptly spent on beer. And not just for parties. We loved to go down to the beach alone at night, start a fire, drink beer, and snuggle under a blanket. We never did anything sexual on the beach except kiss, believe it or not. No girl wants sand in her crack, right? We just savored the sea breeze and the sound of the breaking waves. Sounds corny, huh? But don't criticize the sensations unless you've felt them. I modeled just the normal school clothes and all, but an agent noticed me and asked if I was interested in modeling wedding dresses for a layout in bridal magazine to be called "The Virgin Bride." I agreed to do the shoot. The money was just too good. More beer money! The magazine is located in New York, and the agency flew Mark and me up. While the shoot was going on, I could tell Mark was getting bored. It lasted for three days! I modeled the standard fair of full dresses; with and without and trains; with and without veils, etc., for soooo long! The last wedding dress I wore is what pushed us both over the edge. It was the simplest gown in the shoot – more like a satin and silk floor-length sheath than anything. The dress billowed very slightly just below my knees, and I couldn't have walked in the four-inch white patent-leather pumps I was wearing without it. The thin chute accentuated my bootie rather nicely. And the tight strapless lace bodice squeezed and lifted my 32Bs. There was a very conservative amount of cleavage showing – it was a wedding dress, after all, for a "Virgin Bride" – but it was noticeable. My long strawberry blond hair really stood out on my bare tan shoulders. As I walked out and started to pose in the simple dress, despite all the strobes going off, I could see Mark. What I saw on his face was a look I'd never seen before. I already knew Mark loved me; that look showed me just how much. I loved him just that much, too. Mark and I both knew it: Time to take my panties off. Chapter 12 We were in the car headed home after our flight from New York, and I was very silent; deep in thought. Why wouldn't I be? I was scared to DEATH about what was to come SOON. As Mark walked me to the door, he said, "Chrissy, if you're having second thoughts ..." "No, Mark, it's not that at all!" I sighed. "You've been so patient. "But I want to talk to Mom first. Please don't ask why. You've trusted me all our lives, and there's no reason for you not to trust me now." All Mark said was, "Chrissy, it's time for you to trust me, too," He kissed me, then went over to his house. Mom was waiting for me. I'd phoned her from the airport on my cell as soon as we landed to tell her "it was time." She knew what I meant. We sat on the couch and Mom poured us each a glass of wine. "Chrissy, if you're having second thoughts ..." "No, Mom, it's NOT that. I had to go over the same thing with Mark. But I'm SO scared." I paused for a few seconds then said, "I'm scared he'll think I'm a freak and hate me because I kept my secret from him!" "Chrissy, Mark is never going to hate you, or think you're a freak. Even if he doesn't accept you as you are, he still won't hate you. He'll always be your friend." I managed to say, "If he doesn't want me, it'll break my heart. I've been in love with him for too long. There will never be another Mark." Before going to bed, I called Mark and asked him to be over here at 6 the next evening. Mom would let us have the house to ourselves. Chapter 13 Mom did EVERYTHING for me the next day. First, a bubble bath, then she washed and conditioned my hair. She even shaved my legs and around my little strawberry-blond landing strip. Done with that, Mom dried my and rolled my hair. Then she went to work on my makeup and used darker eyeliner and shadow than I normally wear. She added a little more blush than usual, too. Next, she took the rollers out and suggested I wear my hair it up. Normally I let my hair flow down my back, but I wore it up once at a prom, and Mark liked it. Mom wove a strand of pearls and white ribbons through it. That created a nice and noticeable contrast to my hair color. She painted my fingernails and toenails in light pink to match the lip gloss. I put on a pair of sterling-silver shoulder-brushing earrings and Mom snapped the catch on a double strand of pearls around my neck. She rolled sheer white stockings into doughnuts and eased them up my legs, then helped me with the straps of my lacy white garterbelt. After spritzing on perfume, I pulled a matching pair of tiny panties up my legs, and over the garterbelt. You know the significance of "over", right? I stepped into five-inch white-satin pumps, but I decided to remain topless. I'm really proud of my natural boobies, I guess you know by now. Maybe they would serve as a distraction away from ... ... oh, who the hell am I kidding? This was about what's in my panties. NOBODY outside of Mom and the doctors had EVER seen what that was. And tonight I was taking my panties off for Mark. Mom gave me an enema, a scented douche, and a soft lube job, and now the rest was up to me. She guided me into the bedroom, lit the candles she'd spread around my room, dimmed the lights, kissed me on the nose, then turned and walked out, closing the door behind her. I heard the doorbell ring and voices from below. I head the front door shut, and now it was just Mark and me. Then footsteps on the stairs ... the door opened ... Mark walked in ... the door closed ... time to show all ... Chapter 14 Mark stood there a moment, then said, "You're beautiful." But I was too scared to respond. We stared at each for what felt like a lifetime. I motioned for Mark to sit on the bed, then walked over, stood before him and kissed him lightly on the lips. I turned my back to him, slowly slid my panties down and stepped out of them. I turned again to face Mark – on full display before him for first time. He said nothing. NOTHING AT ALL! I burst into tears. "Mark, I'm so sorry. I know you think I'm a freak! I know you hate me! Please don't hate me!" Mark stood, took me into his arms, sat back on the bed, pulled me onto his lap, and let me cry myself out. Well, at least that proved he didn't hate me. Maybe we could still be friends. "Chrissy," he said, "you're not a freak. I don't hate you. I could never hate you." "But I should have told you before we got this far!" I began to sob again. "Listen," he said. "I know you're a genius, and all that, but I'm pretty smart, too. Do you think we could do the things we did with me naked and you wearing as little as you did and me not feel something down there? Mark explained that he'd started surfing the net, trying to figure out what that was all about ... how someone as feminine as me could have a thingy. He discovered Klienfelter's, and why I was raised as a female. And as luck would have it, he also discovered a website called "Special Lolitas". He said that site hooked him on special girls, and how sexy we are. Sort of knowing – even hoping – I was like those little hotties made him want me more than he ever had. They don't call us special girls for nothing, right? "I couldn't say anything when you took your panties off because I was stunned; stunned by how much sexier you are than any biological girl I've ever seen," he said. "And I've seen a lot of them, thanks to you. "You're a girl, Chrissy. Don't you know GIRLS envy your beauty? Don't you know BOYS will envy ME because you're mine now?" Then he sort of laughed: "I know your boobies are the real deal. I've felt them and sucked them so many times I KNOW. They're perfect. And you've had a sweet ass and long legs since you were eight." Dammit! I started crying again. "Then why didn't you tell me you knew?" Mark said, "Because I wanted you to tell me when you felt the time was right." "Thank you," I managed to say. "So you really do love me? You're not grossed out? I can have gender reassignment in two years. I can have a pussy!" "If you want to have gender reassignment surgery, it's your call," he replied. "But as for me, you're perfect just the way you are." I giggled, "Thank you, stud-muffin. Now lat back." I knelt between his spread legs and took his cock into my mouth. When he was close – believe me, I know when he is – I took my lips off and said, "In me, baby. In me." We swapped positions and I spread my legs as he aimed his cock at my virgin fuck hole. I wrapped my legs around him. "Mark, we both know it's going to hurt, so slide in fast. But don't stop, even if I scream and cry." He said, "Then let's not do this. I don't want to hurt you." I giggled, "Okay stud-muffin, it's like pulling a Band-Aid off – just do it fast. It's going to hurt no matter what. "But, Mark, make love to me. You can fuck me hard later, I promise. Just show me you love me." He didn't exactly slam into me, but we was in up to the hilt in two seconds. And it hurt like hell! I screamed ... I cried ... more tears. "Chrissy, I'm going to ..." "Please don't say `pull out'! We're doing this tonight. We've waited too long. Stay in me please, just give me a second." I took some deep breaths relaxed my pooper muscles. After a few seconds, I said, "Now." Mark began to slide is cock in and out. It didn't take long for me to be able to move back. It felt soooo good! As we both moved, I relaxed my anal-wall muscles as he went in, then tightened as he pulled out. He moaned, "Chrissy, I've never felt anything like this. It's so much better than ..." I giggled and finished his sentence: " ... pussy! Glad to hear it big boy, especially after all the pussy holes you've been in." I guess one thing Mark learned over the course of so many years was to control himself until I came. And he did again. In fact, I had three screaming, earth-shaking, angle-weeping orgasms before he filled me with his sweet creamy cum. After he went soft and pulled out, his cum gushed from me. "Look down, baby," I said. "Look at all of your love juice pouring out of me. I asked you to show me how much you love me, and you did. Thank you." Then Mark rolled off took me in his arms. We kissed for awhile, and I could feel him start to erect again. "Excuse me for a minute, sweetie," I said, then giggled, "But don't lose the stiffy." "Hell, I may be hard for you for the rest of my life," Mark laughed. I went into my bathroom and closed the door. I sat in the toilet, peed, expelled as much of his cum as I could, and gave myself another scented douche. Then I did something I knew would surprise – even sock – my love. My Mark. I put on my red hooker lingerie, stripper heels and red devil's horns headband. I walked out – he was shocked – and said, "You asked me my price, remember?" "Yeah, and you said more that I could afford," he replied. "Well, hot shot, you just earned a freeby," I giggled. A Short Final Chapter Over the course of the rest of the night and next day, we fucked a dozen or more times in different positions. Sometimes we fucked hard; others we made love. I changed lingerie and heels each time. I even let Mark fuck me doggie style in my spanking skirt. Before we knew it, graduation was upon us. I was valedictorian ... and believe it not, good ole Mark – my big brother; my lover – was salutatorian. I told you how good Mark is in football, and he's accepted a scholarship to a major school. I had scholarship offers in both tennis and cross-country at smaller schools, but turned them down. After I did, Mark's university offered me a full academic ride and we'll be together in the fall. I guess I could have tried out for the tennis, cross-country and soccer teams, but I'd run into the dressing room problem again. And, of course, I couldn't join a sorority for the same reason. BUT, I'm going to run for cheerleader, and I'll damn sure make the squad. Take that to the bank! I told you earlier that you would think this is a fairytale – and it is – but it's true ... thanks to Mom, my doctors and my sweet Mark.