Date: Sun, 10 May 2009 11:57:38 -0700 (PDT) From: jimi jones Subject: Transgender/Teen/Jimis Secret Diary/ 02 dear diary: may 20, 1965 The following is a work of fiction and fantasy. 02 dear diary: may 20, 1965 thursday, may 20, 1965 dear diary last night i went to AH's house to help her in the attic. She had cryptically hinted at what was to come after dinner on sunday, referencing what i was wearing, and saying it would be okay to wear it again. i just knew that she knew, that she had correctly deduced or guessed my secret. yes, she must have felt the bra strap, must have felt the clasps and slides as she 'innocently' hugged me after dinner. she surely felt the elastic of reggie's panties hugging and shaping my bottom, too. her invitation to help out at her house wasn't a particular surprise to my mother. being the only male member of my family for hundreds of miles, i am often called on to help with the heavy work of lifting and carrying, both at home and at Aunt Helen's. in the past i have been called on to haul trash to the curb, unload groceries, move furniture, help hang drapes or whatever task called for a relatively strong and young back. what was a surprise to mother was the offer from AH to put me up for the night, to stay over, if the work went late. subsequently, mother had the foresight to drop off fresh school clothes for me on wednesday afternoon, before i arrived at AH's to help. mother was still there when i knocked on AH's front door. She let me in, in fact. we all had tea and biscuits and the women chatted for a while as i did my homework at the kitchen table, listening in at opportune moments for tidbits of gossip. finally, mother announced that she must leave so that AH and i could get the attic sorted out. they spoke in low voices at the front door as they made their goodbyes as i cleared the table and began to wash the cups and dishes. at last we are alone! said Aunt Helen as she entered the kitchen. she was radiant! her dazzling white smile and deep red glossy lipstick, her reddish brown hair was recently done in the latest beehive style. she wore pearls (she always wore pearls) even with her simple daytime attire, a friendly and bright green side-zip flaring plaid skirt, a dark green wide patent leather belt with oversize buckle, and a contrasting dark blue form fitting short sleeve blouse with bright turquoise sleeve trim and matching collar, which she wore 'up' at the back. the effect was to make the entire collar stand up, even at the front, which framed her pretty face. as i admired her necklace i noticed that, perhaps a tad immodestly, the top three buttons were now undone, so that if she leaned forward, her ample and plump and freckled alabaster cleavage would be visible, as would be the delicate white lace edges of her bursting brassiere. i did notice that before mother left, only the top button was left unfastened, and only a glimpse of her pearls showed, at her throat. now, by contrast, when one looked at the pearls, the eye was led to the center of the necklace, where her softest, jiggliest flesh was displayed. "oh, there you go again, doing the dishes. you're such a good gir -- ah, such a good boy, jimmy." i caught the 'slip' and blushed deeply. "never mind those dear," she continued, "we can do them later, after... so! should we get started in the attic, jim-jim? there is so much we need to go through." "certainly, auntie helen. let's get started." "auntie makes me sound so old, jimmy. why not just call me helen... when your mother's not around. it's okay to be less...formal... with me." "okay... helen," i replied, as casually as i could manage. was she teasing me? why the undone buttons? why the insistence that i stop referring to her as my aunt? i followed 'helen' up the stairs to the second floor, watching her full hips sway as she mounted the steps. the sound of petticoats rustled beneath the fabric of the flounced skirt in sighing hushes as she moved. i admired her legs, especially the dark and slightly old fashioned stockings, the kind with the seams at the back. she wore a pair of low heels, shiny dark green leather, which accented her calf muscles in a not-unsexy manner. her perfume was slight, very different from regina's. more grown up, of course, and probably a lot more expensive. we reached the end of the long second floor hallway and started to climb the final flight of stairs to the third floor. when we reached the top we proceeded down another hallway to the far end. a trap door in the ceiling marked the attic entrance. a long cord ran from the trap door and helen tugged it a few times, the door gave way and an extension ladder gracefully slid down and out. "be a darling and hold the ladder while i climb up, jim-jim? it's a bit rickety." i held the ladder as helen began to ascent. of course, it was an unavoidable sight! her flouncy skirt hem was like a bell, very wide at the base, tapering to the waist. i had a wonderful view of her petticoats, and the sight of the dark stockings in close proximity was enchanting. i strained to see if i could make out the color or style of her panties. alas. i could not. i was almost sure she was teasing me now. helen stood at the top of the opening and leaned over, looking down to me. of course, all i could see was the dark shadow between those coconut sized jiggly breasts and the lacey edges of the bra which held them. she stayed in this position, ostensibly steadying the top of the ladder as i climbed up. her breasts grew larger and larger as i ascended. "what do you think, jimmy. isn't this great!?" helen was referring to the attic, of course... at least i thought that was what she meant, though a part of me hoped she was asking for a critique of her bustline. in either case, i agreed that 'this' was great. she flipped a light switch. the room itself was unlike the attic i had in my mind: i imagined creepy cobwebs, dark and ancient junk, dusty shrouds, old rocking chairs, broken lampshades, etc. by way of contrast, this was more like a dressing room. there were racks of clothes, protected by dustsheets, a full length tilting mirror, a sewing machine, a couple of dressers, and the inevitable steamer trunks, souvenirs of a dying age. people flew everywhere now. it was, after all, 1965, the jet age. in addition there was a beauty-parlor style hair dryer and work table nearby and some pretty comfortable looking easy chairs, hooked rugs over the wooden planks... and a made-up double bed, complete with pillows and top sheet. over the footboard was draped a colorful striped beach towel. hovering low over the center of bed was a large reflector with an equally large silver-colored lightbulb in the center. i stared at it, wondering what it was for. "my chamber of horrors! don't worry darling, that's a tanning bed, jimmy, not a torture device. i take short treatments under that as summer comes so i won't look like a ghost at the swim club. it really works, too, as long as you're careful. people with white skin, like our family's, need to be very very careful and not get too much sun too quickly. scientists say its healthier to build a tan slowly. i read that in the saturday evening post recently." "cool. can i try it sometime, helen?" "anytime you wish, baby... we could even do it... together. would you like that? summer begins in just a few weeks now." oh god! would i!!!? the image of lying in bed with my favorite aunt, each dressed in nothing (but a beach towel?) shot through my brain instantly. but instead of a sexy answer, all i could manage to say was 'yes'. "wonderful. it will be such fun!" "but here's what we need to do tonight, jimmy. there is to be a jumble sale at the church and i thought it would be good idea to go through this stuff (her hands indicated the racks of clothing and dressers and trunks) and see what i should finally get rid of. of course, i don't want to unload everything, just the things that i don't need or want anymore, or that we think will sell." "how can i help with that?" "well, you're young. you have a certain 'flair' for what looks good. i think a young person with your tastes would be very... useful, don't you?" i nodded. "now take this trunk, for example," she said, opening the lock and pulling the sides open. Inside were several mens sports jackets. they looked to be from the 1940s... wide lapels, dark colors, rather old fashioned overall. "this belonged to my husband." "but i thought..." "yes, well, it didn't last very long. like your own father, he didn't stick around. we were married less than a year. it's almost as if i never married, which is why you probably think i'm just an old maid." "oh no, aunt.. oh no helen. that's not how i think about you at all!", i protested. "i think you're beaut-". i stopped short, embarrassed. "what dear? you think i'm what?" summoning up all my courage i said, as calmly as i could, though my pulse was racing... "i think you're beautiful. i think you're gorgeous. (a long pause).... "sexy." she beamed. "you do? really?" "yes. i think you know i do." she cleared her throat and stammered... "so. anything here interest you? the clothing, i mean." she WAS teasing me! "i think you should get rid of bad memories. give all that stuff away." "quite right. okay,that was easy!, she said, closing the trunk's sides and locking it. "now, how about this other steamer trunk... maybe you'll like some of this... more?" with that, she pried open the other steamer trunk, separating its two halves. inside were racks of women's clothing. dresses, skirts, blouses, all very stylish and expensive looking, yet a bit dated, probably from the same era as her former husband's wardrobe. on one side was a miniature chest of drawers, probably for underwear. i examined the clothing more closely. silks. satins. summery items. a young woman's wardrobe circa 1950. she held a slinky silk floral patterned dress up in front of her. it may have fit long ago but would be too small for her now. it was low cut, with padded shoulders and long pleats from waist to hem. a very pale shade of pink, nearly white, it was almost translucent. very daring, i thought. "do you like this, jimmy?" "yes. yes i do, helen. it's beautiful." "good. it's yours." "wh-what?" "i said, it's yours." "what do you mean, helen?' "i mean, it's yours to keep. give it to 'reggie'... or wear it yourself... if you want to. "but..." she closed on me and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, and brought me in for a long tit to tit hug. "it's okay, honey, i know." "you know?" "yes. i have had an idea about you since you were three but sunday night clinched it. you were wearing a bra and panties under your clothing." "y-yes." "are you wearing them again tonight? as i requested?" "yes." "good. you won;t have to strip completely to try on the rest of the stuff i have for you then. unless you want to try on some of this stuff, too. she slipped open the steamer trunks dresser drawers. inside were row upon row of vintage silk and satin panties and soft cupped brassieres and camisoles. in the drawer above that were garter belts and fine silk hosiery. there was even a long line 'merry widow' bustier. midnight black with pink trim. "all of this is pre-war, honey. no junky nylon or polyester or poly-anything. pure silk or satin. don't you just love it?" i stood, transfixed, staring at this princess' treasure cave. i could only nod in the affirmative. "now, let get you stripped off baby, i want you naked." she stood and watched as i undid my school shirt and removed it. she sat and watched from the easy chair as i removed my shoes and belt. she leaned forward to view as i stepped out of my trousers. she stood again and actually peeled off my teeshirt. she beamed again. i stood there in reggie's pink bra. "now the undershorts, honey." i turned my back and lowered the undershorts, revealing reggies pink panties. i had a three-inch erection. "the argyle socks look ridiculous, jimmy. better take them off too." i did as requested, standing in my pink bra and panties, my hands covering my crotch. "lose the panties and bra, jimmy. i have better things for you." i struggled out of the bra and pulled down my panties, my back to her. i was naked. "turn around darling. let me see you." i turned to face helen, who was now facing me, on her knees, holding open the beautiful pre-war 100% pure silk panties. my cock was sticking straight out at her. "you're the beautiful one, jimmy. i could eat you alive." continued. comments: jimiboygirl@yahoo.com