Date: Thu, 28 Sep 2017 19:36:32 +0000
From: Michele Nylons <michelenylons@msn.com>
Subject: The Cottage - Part One TG Story

The Cottage - Part One

By

Michele Nylons

© Michele Nylons 2012

 Mike Harris was seventeen years old when the worst blizzard ever to hit
Chelmsford forest struck in December 1986. That is when this story really
begins. But first we need to learn a little about Mike Harris before that
fateful winter's day.

Mike's father had left the family home when he was still a baby. He lived
at home with his mother Doris and his older sister Charlotte. He had been
an 'accident' his mother said. He wasn't 'planned' and his mother made no
secret of the fact that she thought his arrival had been the final straw
that led to her husband leaving their already shaky marriage.

His mother worked as a secretary for a legal firm and what little spare
time she had from work she spent socialising with the staff from the
office. His sister pretty much ignored him as he was growing up,
concentrating instead on her small circle of girlfriends and of course her
many boyfriends who seemed to come and go with monotonous regularity.
Sometime during his adolescence he came to realise that Charlotte had a
reputation; and that she was what was unflatteringly referred to in those
days as 'the town bike'.

Not that lack of family affection particularly bothered him; he preferred
his own company. Nor was his upbringing totally loveless; his mom and his
sister readily showered with him with affection on his birthday and at
Christmas. They also took annual holidays together at the cottage that they
shared with the rest of the Harris family. It wasn't that his mom and
sister didn't love him; it's just that they didn't have much time for him.

Mike grew up a loner, he spent most of his spare time indoors reading and
watching television. He liked descriptive novels where the hero rescued the
heroine from the clutches of the villain. He liked movies and television
shows of the same genre. It wasn't until puberty that he realised he was
identifying more with the heroines in the stories rather than the heroes
and he begun to wonder why.

It was during his adolescence, around the same time that he realised his
sister was a slut, that he admitted to himself that he had a predilection
for women's underwear. But we will come back to this later.

The Harris clan was scattered across the shire, they were mainly working
class stock who only got together for special occasions. Family
celebrations were very much restricted to births, deaths and marriages,
they were the sort of family who seemed to be happy not living in each
other's pockets. They had one asset that they all shared and treasured. A
cottage deep in Chelmsford wood.

The small cottage was set on a modest plot of land next to a small lake. A
single dirt road wound three miles through the woods to the cottage and the
nearest neighbour was a good mile away. There was no electricity line and a
hand pump provided water from the lake. One of the more affluent families
had installed a small generator but most of the visitors to the cottage
preferred to use the combustion stove, which also provided hot water, and
the kerosene lamps were more than adequate to light up the small two
bedroom, one bathroom cottage.

The cottage had been in the Harris family for so long that no one really
knew when or how the family acquired it. The cottage was shared amongst the
five Harris families and an annual schedule was drawn up at the beginning
of each year ensuring that the most popular spring and summer months were
allocated fairly.

Mike considered it good fortune that his mother hadn't remarried because
then they would no longer be members of the Harris clan and would forfeit
their rights to the cottage. That said, because Mike's father had left them
so long ago, they were only begrudgingly given access to the cottage, and
their allocated periods seemed to be disproportionably in the autumn and
winter.

Mike loved spending time at the cottage. When he was younger he would go to
the cottage with his mother and sister and swim in lake, fish, hike and
ride his bike along the forest trails. It was the only place he took an
interest in the outdoors. As his sister got older she lost interest in the
cottage and Mike had to plead to get his mother to take him. By the time he
was thirteen his mother and sister had lost all interest in the cottage but
his mother allowed him to go there by himself now that he was a teenager.
The truth was that even though she couldn't give a shit about the cottage
she didn't want her side of the family to give up on something she thought
they had right to.

And so we return to Mike's penchant for ladies underwear. Living with two
women who ignored his presence to a great extent Mike grew up surrounded by
female paraphernalia. His earliest memories are of using a bathroom where
stockings, panties and slips were rinsed in the sink and hung up to dry.
The stockings eventually gave way to pantyhose and cotton panties and slips
became satin, rayon and nylon. They hung from the shower curtain and towel
rails like mystical talismans. He knew they were taboo; girl's things that
boys had no right to touch. Mike couldn't remember when he first lifted one
of the fascinating items down from the shower curtain rail and bought the
silky garment to his cheek, caressing his body with the sensuous nylon and
satin.

The sensation of the sleek fabric on his skin was like nothing he had ever
experienced in his short life. What probably also nourished his fetish was
the way his mother and sister dressed and behaved around him. When he was
twelve his sister was eighteen and she dressed in eighties kitsch. She wore
a lot of lycra tights and bodysuits around the house and tight pencil
skirts, satin blouses and tight-fitting jackets for work. These short
skirts were accessorised with silky pantyhose, high-heels, high hair and
heavy colourful eye makeup. His mother also wore tight-fitting business
suits, satin blouses, high-heels and heavy makeup. Sometimes Mother and
daughter even borrowed each other's clothes.

What made matters worse was that they had no compunction in getting around
the house partially clothed in his presence. His mother regularly turned up
for breakfast dressed only in slip, bra, panties and hose. Her makeup would
already be applied and she would eat her cereal dressed only in her
lingerie, putting on her heels at the table, stepping into her skirt and
pulling on her blouse and jacket just before leaving for work. Sometimes
she would even ask Mike to tuck the back of her blouse into her skirt and
zip it up or to buckle up her shoes if she was wearing sling-backs.

Mike's fingers would inadvertently come into contact with her silky slips
and blouses and her gossamer nylons while he did these tasks; and the
garments felt far more luxurious when filled with a warm perfumed body.

His sister was not quiet the exhibitionist that his mother was but she also
seemed to ignore his presence and often sat with her legs open or would lie
on the couch with her skirt riding high on her thighs. Charlotte had left
school at sixteen and had a job as a shop assistant in a ladies clothing
store. She didn't earn much but she loved the job because she was required
to dress nicely for work and she got good discounts on her clothes.

Mike figured it was no surprise that he was developing a fetish for
lingerie and hosiery being surrounded by it almost constantly. He knew that
boys should admire the women wearing these garments but he knew they should
not actually be obsessed with the garments themselves.

He didn't have an incestuous bone in his body and he did not lust after his
mother and sister but he lusted after the clothes they wore; the feel, the
texture of their lingerie and the smell of their makeup, powder and
perfume. In a subconscious way he was jealous. He wanted to wear the
pantyhose, the panties and the slips that they wore. Why couldn't he? Why
couldn't boys wear luxurious silky underwear instead of boring cotton
briefs and singlets?

And so it started. One day while his mother and sister were at work Mike
found himself in the bathroom staring at the array of panties and nylons
left hung up to dry by his sister and mother. He gently fondled the silky
soft objects that had become his obsession. Eventually his fascination for
the slinky garments became sexual in nature. He began masturbating with
them; rubbing them over his erect penis as he slowly bought himself to
climax. He found it immensely pleasurable to slide the leg of a pair of
pantyhose over his erection and then wrap a pair of satin panties around
his turgid member and slowly stroke it until he spent his issue in the
diaphanous tunnel.

Mike was terrified that his mother or sister would find out what he was
doing. He would carefully wash the semen-soaked garments and hang them back
up to dry where he had found them; praying his mother and sister wouldn't
notice that their lingerie had been defiled.

Then one day it was different; he wanted to feel what it would be like to
wear the objects of his desire; feel the luxurious garments against his
skin. He sat on the toilet seat and slipped his toes into a pair of his
sister's flesh-toned pantyhose and slowly rolled them up his calves; he
stood up and smoothed the nylons up his thighs pulling the gusset tight
around his buttocks and groin. He had seen his mother and sister don their
hose so he knew how to do it properly. The feeling of the cool sheer nylon
sliding up his legs and tightly but gently caressing his legs and his
scrotum and penis was incredible. It was indescribably erotic and
exotic. He was instantly hard.

He slid into a pair of full-cut rayon panties and smoothed them around his
buttocks, pulling the waistband high on his slim hips. The panties hissed
as they rasped over his pantyhose-clad legs; the rayon was soft and
slippery, sliding easily over the nylon hose. He gasped with delight and
pleasure. Oh how lucky it must be to be woman and be able to wear such
sensuous undergarments every day! He flooded the front of the pantyhose and
panties with scalding semen without even touching himself.

It wasn't long before Mike was wearing his sister's panties and pantyhose
every chance he got. Later he tried on their bras, filling the cups with
socks to make fake breasts; then he tried on a slip, first a half-slip,
then he tried on a full-slip. It was exquisite! He would dress in
pantyhose, panties, bra and slip and parade around the house while his
sister and mother were out. He was terrified that they might come home
unexpectedly and catch him; exposing him for the deviant he was. Somehow
the fear of getting caught added to the immense pleasure he found being
dressed that way.

He felt tremendous guilt and many a time he vowed that this would be the
last time but eventually he would return to the bathroom or the laundry
basket and help himself to the forbidden treasures. He knew he wasn't gay;
he didn't think about men when he wore lingerie; he just revelled in the
feel of the garments against his skin.

One day just before his sixteenth birthday he snuck into his mother's
bedroom dressed in his sister's pantyhose, panties, bra and slip. He wanted
to see what it felt like to wear high-heels with the lingerie. He had a
collection of girly magazines; just soft porn really, and almost all of the
women in the magazines wore high-heels with their lingerie.

He tried to get his feet into a pair of his mother's high-heeled pumps but
they wouldn't quiet squeeze in. Then he found a pair of high-heeled sandals
and although they were a tight fit he was able to adjust the straps so he
could wear them. He got up from his mother's bed where he had sat down to
try them on and unsteadily made his way over to the full-length mirror in
the corner of the room. He was amazed at what he saw.

He stood so that his head was not visible in the reflection in the
mirror. He could easily have been looking at the image of a slim young
girl. His build was very slight but his legs were well defined. He turned
around and was rewarded with the view of a magnificent, tight, well-formed
arse. His senses of sight and touch were being stimulated; maybe one more
thing? He tottered over to his mother's vanity and selected Poison, her
favourite perfume and liberally sprayed himself. God he felt so sexy!

He walked back to the mirror. Mike regularly masturbated looking at
pictures of models dressed in lingerie in his girly magazines and now he
stared at his own reflection and furiously masturbated. He pulled his penis
over the waistband of his pantyhose and panties and stroked himself until
his issue spurted forth spraying everywhere. He was so engrossed in
pleasuring himself that he didn't think of the consequences.

The slip, panties and hose were splattered with ropes of sticky semen.
There were even gobbets of spunk on his mother's shoes and all over the
floor of her bedroom.

Then he heard noises from downstairs.

"Mike? Mike? Are you home?" he heard his mother calling.

Mike panicked; he was going to be caught dressed in his sister's lingerie
and his mother's shoes and to make matters worse he was soaked in semen!

"It's ok; he's not home," he head his mother say and then heard the ominous
sound of high-heels clattering on the stairs.

Mike quickly pulled down his panties and kicked them off; he hurriedly
wiped up as much of the semen as could off the floor. The floorboards were
still a little damp but you would have to look carefully to see the
stain. He walked as quickly and as quietly as could to his mother's walk-in
wardrobe and pulled the door too just as she entered the bedroom. Mike
looked through the slats of the shuttered door and found he had a decent
view of the bedroom. His mother held the hand of a man Mike recognised as
his uncle Steve and she pulled him through the door.

"We have to be quick; Mike's probably out on his bloody bike again but fuck
knows when he'll come home," she pulled uncle Steve into the room and
closed and locked the door.

"This is just so fucking naughty Doris; fucking my sister-in-law in her own
bedroom!"

Mike knew his mother was no angel but fucking uncle Steve! Fucking her
sister-in-law's husband! What on earth was she thinking? Mike knew that
uncle Steve and aunty Joyce were the closest relatives they had, but he
never dreamt that his mother and uncle were having an adulterous affair. He
had to admit to himself that he found it quite exciting.

If he weren't hiding in the wardrobe dressed in his sister's underwear,
scared shitless of being caught, he would probably be immensely turned
on. His mother was wearing a snug black mini-dress, a pink satin blouse,
black jacket, black open-toed heels, and what appeared to be a pair of
ivory coloured pantyhose. It was a simple outfit that showed off her legs
to good effect. She was also wearing her usual heavy makeup and lots of
cheap jewellery.

She took off her jacket and threw it on the chair near the vanity. Mike
breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't taken the time to hang it in the
wardrobe; the same wardrobe he was hiding inside dressed in pantyhose, bra,
slip and high-heels, holding a pair of his sister's come-soaked panties.

"Come on Steve do me quickly!" his mother panted and held out her hand.

He fingers were bejewelled with rings, her fingernails painted a deep
crimson; cheap gold bracelets jingled on her wrists. Steve heeded her
beckoning and moved in even closer. His mother opened her legs wide apart
and kissed him.

"Come on; I know what you like and you know what I like, now lets do it!"
she panted.

Steve pushed up the hem of her short shirt, he exposed the entire front
part of her waist right up to the waistband of her sheer white hose.

"No panties Doris? You naughty girl," he marvelled, his hand moved to her
pubis.

"I hope you don't go out like this all the time?" he joked.

"Only when I'm meeting you," his mother smiled back.

Mike felt an erection begin to grow. He couldn't believe his mother spoke
and behaved this way! It was shocking but it was also very exciting. He
noticed he was gripping the come-soaked panties very tightly and he
unclenched his fist and opened up the panties so he could press the damp
satin against his hose-sheathed penis.

His mother fell back on the bed, pulling uncle Steve down on top of
her. Mike had a perfect view through the small aperture. His mother lay on
her back; her skirt hiked up and her legs wide apart.

"Come on; do me Steve, we don't have all day!" she demanded.

Steve stroked and rubbed Mike's mother through the translucent fabric
covering her privates; he must have been hitting all the right places
creating the most wonderful friction Mike thought as he rubbed his sister's
panties on his cock. Then Steve lowered his head and began to lick his
mother, it must have felt exquisite against her clit because the wet spot
on the gusset of her pantyhose began to spread.

Doris lay back and closed her eyes, arms thrown up over her head as she let
her brother-in-law have his way with her. His hands continued to stroke her
thighs and buttocks, he kissed and licked all along the length of her cunt,
drinking in the scent of her arousal. Biting with his teeth, he made a
small hole in the crotch of her hose and proceeded to make an opening just
large enough so he could access her naked clitoris peeking forth from its
hood.

Her feet rose up and she clamped her thighs around Steve's face.

"Please don't stop," she softly begged, glancing down to the top of his
head.

"I'm so close, please..."

She didn't have to worry. Steve was like a man possessed, intent on nothing
more than the feeling of her hosiery beneath his fingers and the nubbin of
her clitoris beneath his tongue. There was no mistaking her body language,
or the way her increasingly desperate gasps suddenly gave way to open
grunts, announcing her climax. Mike was amazed that it was not only he that
had a fetish for nylons but his uncle Steve definitely did too.

Now that his mother had come it was obvious that Steve wanted some
action. Mike rubbed his sister's panties harder against his cock as he
watched Steve rise up from his mother's sopping cunt, he quickly stood up,
kicked off his shoes and shucked out of his shirt and pulled down his
trousers and underpants. His uncle's penis was fully erect, the glans was
purple and it looked like it was throbbing; almost angry. Mike couldn't
help but stare at that impressive erection, his own penis was throbbing and
leaking pre-seminal fluid into the tight gossamer hose.

Mike watched his uncle take each of his mother's legs in his hands, he
removed her heels and placed her nylon-clad feet against his broad
chest. Closing his eyes, he moved her soles back and forth, revelling in
the sensations. He took each foot in turn and kissed and sucked on her toes
through the nylon, which his mother obviously found extremely arousing
judging by her whimpers and moans. His hands glided along the undersides of
her calves and thighs, elevating her legs so that they rested completely
against this body.

He hugged her hose-clad limbs close to his chest and Mike watched with
fascination as he proceeded to thrust his cock in the space between her
thighs. Steve's face was one of unadulterated rapture as he fucked Mike's
mother's thighs, and Mike stared fascinated at the obscene sight of his
uncle's engorged glans appearing and disappearing from between his mother's
legs.

"Does that really feel good Steve?" she asked.

"You have no idea," he rasped; sweat breaking out on his skin as he moved
his hips ever faster, creating the most intense friction on his cock
between the pale white nylons.

Uncle Steve nuzzled and kissed her feet, then held her legs firm once more
as he redoubled his efforts, the smears of pre-seminal fluid wetting her
pantyhose an unmistakable testament to the level of his arousal.

"Are you going to come like that," his mother asked with a quivering tone.

"God, yes," he replied, thrusting his hips hard into her thighs.

Mike was now furiously rubbing the sodden panties against his highly
sensitive penis; the friction of the satin panties against the nylon hose
was exquisite and he was close to his own orgasm.

Steve suddenly shuddered and Mike witnessed his uncle ejaculate. He was
literally standing on his toes, riding each wave of his orgasm clasping his
mother's legs to his chest, shooting long streams of warm semen onto her
skirt and blouse; the final spurts dribbling down the insides of her
pantyhose-clad legs. His uncle fell on top his mother and kissed her
passionately and she rubbed her sodden hosiery on his body as they kissed
and cuddled for a minute or two.

Mike had his second intense orgasm of the day watching his uncle spray his
seed over his fully clothed mother; his semen flooded the gusset of his
pantyhose, soaking into the slippery satin panties he was frenziedly
rubbing on his cock. The smell of his mother's Poison still lingered on his
body and as his orgasm wracked him he found the sensation of hose, bra and
slip against his sensitive skin heightened the experience tenfold.

What he realised as his orgasm began to subside was that during the throes
of his climax he had not identified with his uncle; he had imagined that it
was he lying on the bed, taking his mother's place. That he was the one
dressed in black miniskirt, blouse, heels and makeup being splattered by
scalding semen. He shook his head to clear the image from his
subconscious. What a silly idea! It was just the sensation of wearing his
sister's lingerie that had bought on that notion surely!

"Ok lover let's get into the bathroom and clean up this mess, then I need
to get changed and get back to work," his mother giggled and pushed uncle
Steve off her.

Mike watched as his uncle, naked except for his socks, chase his fully
clothed and semen spattered mother into the ensuite bathroom.

Mike quickly cleaned the closet floor and took off his mother's high-heels
and wiped them clean of his semen. He couldn't remember exactly how the
shoes had been arranged in the jumbled mess on the floor the closet. Was
there a method to her madness or were her shoes just thrown on the floor in
a heap? He didn't have time to worry; he dropped them on the floor and
quickly padded away down the hall to his own bedroom.

As quietly as he could he stripped himself out of the semen-stained
lingerie. He waited for his mother and uncle to dress and leave the
house. He looked out the window and saw them drive away in Steve's little
car. He buried the stained underwear at the bottom of the laundry basket
and changed into his own clothes. He went back to his mother's bedroom and
noticed that his mother had changed her bed linen. He also noticed a
streaky wet stain where he had cleaned up his own semen off the polished
wooden floor.

He almost fainted. His mother had obviously noticed the stain and mopped it
or wiped it with a damp cloth. He bolted for the built-in closet and flung
open the louvred doors. Sure enough, another damp patch belied where his
mother had cleaned away the semen stains he had left behind.

"Fuck!" he sighed.

The next few hours were the most terrifying of his life. He was dreading
confronting his mother when she came home from work and even considered
running away from home.

"Have you been mooching in my bedroom Mike?" his mother asked him later
that night.

He fervently denied it of course; but guilt was written all over his
face. His mother surprised him by giving him a wry smile.

"Well I better not find out that you've been up to shenanigans in my
bedroom Michael Harris," she said sternly, but her face held an amused
expression.

Mike blanched and shook his head.

"Never mom; I promise," he whimpered.

"I think the little perv plays with our knickers while we're out!"

Charlotte chuckled and punched him playfully in the shoulder.

His sister was joking, but she was awfully close to the truth and Mike
vowed never to touch their lingerie again. It was bad enough that his
mother rightfully suspected he had spied on her and uncle Steve having sex
in her bedroom; but if she or his sister found out that he had been
dressing in their lingerie he would die!

"Ok Charlotte; I think Mike knows now that he better not ever go into our
bedrooms without our permission," Doris said sternly; her face now very
serious.

"He might see things there that he was never meant to," she finished,
eyeing him sternly.

It was the closest he ever came to being caught; and he repeated his vow
never to touch his mother's or his sister's lingerie again. He did not
however vow to never wear lingerie again, just not his sister's or his
mother's.

Mike waited a few weeks to see if his mother was going to bring up his
indiscretion again but she never did. The compulsion to dress in women's
underwear built up until it became undeniable. Mike was far too scared to
ever dress up at home again; he was terrified of being caught, but he had
to dress up somewhere. Then an idea came to him! But first he would need to
buy his own lingerie.

Mike was very frugal, he saved his pocket money and the few bob he made
from a paper route. He had a saved a reasonable sum of money and now he
decided to put it good use. Mike's only form of transport was a
twelve-speed bike he had been given for his fourteenth birthday. He rode it
everywhere, including on his paper route; that was one of the reasons why
his legs were so well defined and his body so slim.

He started taking regular bike rides to Luxton, the closest big town to
Chelmsford. It was far enough away that he would be unlikely to run into
anyone from his school or any other family members. It was fifteen miles
from Chelmsford but Mike made the round trip on his bike with his large
rucksack on his back without too much exertion. He found a big department
store where he thought he could buy lingerie without being too
conspicuous. He blushed with embarrassment when he was approached by the
matronly shop assistant in the lingerie section. He used the excuse that he
was buying something nice for his girlfriend for her birthday and she took
pity on him and helped him pick out a nice panty and bra set with a
matching slip.

Then he went to a few different stores ready to use the same excuse if
needed but in most cases the lingerie section was unattended and he just
helped himself to what he wanted and steeled himself for any inquisitive
glances he might receive from the checkout staff. Most of the counter staff
were bored with their job and took no interest in him or his purchases and
just rang up his purchases and gave him his change.

Pantyhose were easy to buy at the supermarket; he just made his selection
and put them in with some innocuous items in a shopping basket and no one
asked him any questions. He had decided to make a special purchase and he
went to a specialist lingerie store and bought an expensive satin and lace
garter belt and a selection of fifteen-denier fully-fashioned stockings. He
couldn't wait to try them on and he nearly fell off his bike riding home.

He stashed his lingerie away in a secret compartment he had built in the
back of his wardrobe. Then he executed the second and most important part
of his plan.

"It's our weekend at the cottage isn't it mom?" Mike asked innocently
enough.

"Yes Mike but it's bloody freezing out and me and your sister have a lot on
this weekend," his mother replied, not even looking up from the book she
was reading.

She was sitting in her big overstuffed chair with her legs curled under her
and Mike couldn't help staring at the dark reinforced toes of her stockings
and then tracing her shapely nylon-clad calves with his eyes until they
disappeared under her skirt.

"I'm not going to the shitty cottage," Charlotte whined.

She was lying on her back on the lounge staring at some inane soap opera on
the television. She was wearing a little A-line skirt and her long legs
were bent at the knees with her platform shoes flat on the cushions; her
skirt had rode up almost to her waist and Mike could just see her red satin
panties under the gusset of her flesh-toned pantyhose. God these women made
him horny! He wanted to dress just like they did!

"Can I go up on my own then mom? I'll ride my bike up and back and it'll
get me out of the house for the weekend," he asked.

"Sure you can son," Doris replied turning a page and reaching for her
obligatory glass of wine.

A quick recollection flew into his head depicting his mother lying on her
back fully clothed while uncle Steve fucked her white-stockinged legs and
he shook his head to remove it.

"Thanks mom," he beamed and bounced up the stairs to his room to pack his
treasures for the weekend.

And so Mike's regular excursions to the cottage by himself began. And of
course while he was there alone he could do whatever he wanted.

He enjoyed parading around the cottage dressed in lingerie and did it
whenever he could. The solitude and privacy of the cottage set deep in the
woods meant he could dress in lingerie all day and all night if he wanted
too. He found a hiding place in the cottage where he could hide his girly
requisites and added to them and replaced items as they became worn out. He
also added to his magazine collection and stared endlessly at the
seductively clothed models contained in their pages. His compulsion to
dress like a woman kept developing until eventually it was not just
lingerie that fascinated him. He wanted to wear high-heels and maybe try on
a nice mini-skirt and sexy blouse. He loved skirts. He even loved the word
'skirt'! It evoked images of his mother and sister's tight little skirts,
hems wore high on the thigh, rustling against their nylon-clad legs when
they strode around the house on their high-heels.

Mike thought about it for a while; he knew his lingerie sizes from trial
and error when trying on his mother and sister's panties, bras and
slips. But what dress size was he? What blouse size? What woman's shoe
size? This was before the days of the Internet and books that converted
ladies sizes to men's sizes were just not available; where would one get
such a book anyway?

Besides; he couldn't walk into a department store and just ask to try on a
few skirts and blouses and he certainly couldn't just take a few items off
the racks and take them to a checkout. That would raise a few eyebrows!

Then one day he was riding around Luxton when he rode past a big Oxfam
depot and when hit him! Problem solved! He could buy second hand ladies
clothing from Oxfam or other charity shops and if it didn't fit he could
simply throw it away; it wouldn't cost him much and the staff there were
less likely to care what he bought; they just wanted his donations.

So Mike summoned up the courage to enter the Oxfam shop and after thirty
gruelling heart-stopping minutes he had a nice collection of skirts and
blouses. He even found a nice business suit skirt-jacket combination that
he thought would fit him. It was almost exactly like the suits his mother
wore to work. Sure enough the little old lady at the counter couldn't give
a toss about his purchases, she just added up the total and took his cash.

A few days later he returned, early in the afternoon when the store was
quiet, and quickly kicked off his shoes and tried on four pairs of
high-heels. Three of the four pairs fitted him and he took them to the
counter. This time the little old lady did give him an inquisitive look but
she didn't say anything, she just gave him a knowing smile and handed him
his change. Mike blushed, his face turned a deep crimson and he bolted from
the store with his purchases.

And so Mike continued to go to the cottage and dress up in lingerie,
skirts, blouses, hose and heels but he still looked like a boy in girl's
clothes.

He looked good dressed as girl; that is he had a good body and great legs
but it was still the face of teenage boy that was reflected in the
mirror. It was time to take the next step!

He rode into Luxton and he bought a makeup case, explaining to the shop
assistant that it was a birthday present for his cousin who was only just
beginning allowed to wear makeup. The shop assistant was very helpful and
helped Mike select some nice shades of lipstick that his 'cousin' might
like. She also advised him that girls love perfume and Mike purchased a
bottle of his beloved Poison perfume 'because he liked his cousin so
much'. The shop assistant was happy because she though she had fleeced the
young naïve teenager of his cash and Mike was happy because he had
acquired all of his makeup and perfume requisites at one shop with no fuss
or embarrassment at all.

He bought some cheap jewellery and clip-on earrings at a department store
and then returned to the Oxfam shop where he found two good quality
wigs. One was a shoulder-length dark brunette bob and the other a
honey-blond, which came just below his shoulders.

He took these purchases home and couldn't wait to get them to the cottage
so he could undergo his first transformation from Mike Harris to Michele
Nylons; the enfemme name he decided to call himself. A few months after his
seventeenth birthday and one week before Christmas his mother dropped the
bombshell that she was going to Majorca for the Christmas holidays with a
friend from work.

"You two are old enough to look after yourselves now," she said
dismissively when she gave her son and daughter the news.

Charlotte was the first to chime in.

"Can I have Ben over for Christmas then?" Ben being her latest beau.

"You mean can you bend over for Ben at Christmas!" Mike sniggered and both
of the women gave him a steely look.

"It's ok mom and Sis; I'll go to the cottage," he added quickly.

"Don't know what you want to go to cottage for in the middle of winter for,
but sure ok," his mother answered.

"So he can stroke his little peeny-weeny all day long," Charlotte teased.

"Jesus! I'll be glad when I'm on that plane," his mother sighed.

And that is how Mike happened to be in the cottage when the worst blizzard
ever to hit Chelmsford struck in December 1986.

Mike arrived at the cottage just before it started to snow and he was so
excited that he didn't even notice when it began. He opened his rucksack
and laid out his recent purchases and started preparing himself to learn
how to become a transvestite. He knew what a transvestite was; a man who
dressed in women's clothes and looked very much like a woman when
transformed. He was going to become Michele Nylons for the first time and
he was very excited about it.

He got the generator going and lit a blazing fire in the open fireplace; it
warmed the cottage and soon the hot water system was piping hot. He had
very little body hair but he painstakingly shaved his chest, stomach and
legs and then the fine hairs on his hands and arms. He shaved his face and
felt his skin; it was smooth and supple.

Then he opened a pot of hair removal cream and after reading the
instructions he applied a thick coat of the smelly cream over the hairs in
his crotch and buttocks making sure that he got into all of the
crevasses. He watched with amusement as small clumps of his body hair
disappeared down the drain when his rinsed it off in the shower. He was
amazed at how smooth and sensual his shaved body felt and he decided to
keep his body permanently hairless from now on. Its not like anyone would
notice.

Now came the difficult part; learning how to apply makeup. Mike sat down at
the dresser in the small bedroom and arranged the contents of the cosmetics
case in front of him. He was fascinated with the cosmetics. Long tubes of
mascara, eyeliner and lipstick, bottles and pots of foundation and
nailpolish, palettes of bright coloured eyeshadow, blush, rouge and
finishing powder.

He opened up a magazine featuring pictures of overly-madeup models and
selected one of favourites and decided to try and duplicate her makeup; his
first ever attempt at applying cosmetics. The foundation, finishing powder,
blush and lipstick were not too hard to get right with a little practice
but it took several attempts to get the eye makeup anywhere near as good as
the girl in the picture. After two frustrating hours was reasonably astute
at getting his eyeliner and eyeshadow right. Applying the mascara was not
quite so difficult, but the first few times he slipped and smeared some on
his eyelids. Also it tended to clot on his eyelashes; but he eventually got
the hang of applying a nice thick even coat to his upper and lower
eyelashes.

When he had the hang of putting on the makeup he washed his face completely
clean with warm soapy water and applied some moisturiser so he had a clean
palette for his very first full transformation from Mike to Michele.

What Mike didn't know was why his mother was going to Majorca. It was
because of a developing family scandal. Aunty Joyce had found out about his
mother's illicit affair with uncle Steve. Doris was running off to Majorca
to avoid the disgrace and uncle Steve had packed a bag and moved out of his
home at the insistence of his wife. He had nowhere to go so he decided to
spend a few nights at the Harris cottage until Joyce either got over her
anger and took him back or he found somewhere permanent to live. He was
driving down the highway towards Chelmsford forest when it started to snow
heavily.

"Hope I get to the cottage before this fucking snow cuts off the access
road," he said to himself.

Mike had been experimenting with how to make more realistic breastforms
rather than just stuffing socks into his bra cups. He now had a tried and
true method that did the job. He opened a packet of pantyhose and cut the
legs from the gusset. He filled the feet of the pantyhose legs with rice
until he had the desired size and then doubled the legs over and tied them
off with a couple of overhand knots. The knots made nice imitation nipples
when the breastforms were placed inside his bra cups.

Mike sat down at the dresser and applied foundation and finishing
powder. He worked on his eyeliner next, concentrating on getting it just
right from the inner corner to the outer corners of both top and bottom
eyelids, gradually thickening the line. Next he went to work on the
eyeshadow using a combination of light blue, purple and pink; blending it
as close as possible to resemble the eyes of the model in his fashion
magazine. He rouged his cheeks with blusher and applied another coat of
finishing powder. He painstakingly mascaraed his eyelashes and reached for
the plum red lipstick and carefully applied three coats, biting down on a
tissue to set the lipstick just like he had seen his mother and sister do.

He painted his toenails and fingernails with matching plum red
nailpolish. Coating the fingernails of his left hand was relatively easy,
but Mike found it awkward using his left hand to paint the nails on the
fingers of right hand. When he was happy with his makeup he reached for a
wig. The shoulder-length brunette bob sat perfectly on his head, the fringe
level with his eyebrows. He brushed it out until it was sleek and glossy.

He was amazed at the transformation; he looked very attractive. He looked
as good as some of the models in his magazines. Mike took his homemade
breastforms and fitted them inside the cups of a red satin and lace
brassiere then he opened a packet of flesh-toned Pretty Polly sheer to the
waist pantyhose. He carefully fitted the toes of the pantyhose around his
feet and admired the lustre of his nailpolished toenails through the
reinforced pantyhose toes.

The next task was a little uncomfortable but essential if he wanted a
woman's silhouette. He tucked his penis and scrotum under his crotch and
taped them in place. He had found the tape in a shop that specialised in
actor's accoutrements and stage makeup. The stage makeup was not suitable
for his purposes but when he saw the gaff tape, which actors used to affix
prosthetics, he had an idea how he could use it and bought a couple of
rolls.

He smoothed the small wrinkles out of the pantyhose as he drew them up his
legs. The luxurious feel of the silken hosiery on his shaved legs was very
sensuous. He stepped into a pair of red bikini-cut satin panties. The
panties hissed as they slid up his nylon-sheathed thighs and as he adjusted
them to fit snugly around his buttocks, he once again marvelled at the
opulent feel of the satin and nylon against his body. He selected a white
rayon half-slip, the cool sleek material fluttered like the wings of a
butterfly against his legs when he stepped into and eased the garment up
his legs and adjusted it so the hem sat high on his thighs.

It was about this time that Mike began to think of himself as Michele. He
was no longer Mike, the skinny teenage boy with a feminine figure; she was
Michele Nylons, transvestite vixen!

Michele stepped into a navy blue A-line skirt and then buttoned herself
into a mauve satin blouse. She tucked the blouse into the waistband of her
skirt and closed the zipper. She adjusted the waistband of her skirt around
her midriff, and smoothed the skirt down her legs so the hem just covered
the lace edging on her slip. The skirt was tight around her buttocks and
thighs and the hem sat high up her long legs. Perfect!

Someone had bought an old full-length dressing mirror to the cottage and it
had stood in the corner of the bedroom, disused and fly specked. Mike had
cleaned it up during his many visits and regularly made use of it; putting
it back in the corner and covering it with an old sheet before he left. He
pulled the mirror into the centre of the room where the light was best.

Michele looked at herself in the mirror and saw exactly what he was hoping
to see: a young, attractive, slightly slutty-looking, young woman. She
stepped into a pair of black high-heeled sandals then sat back down at the
dresser and accessorised herself with the jewellery. She sprayed herself
liberally with Poison, her favourite perfume, and then stood in front of
the mirror once again.

She pirouetted, curtsied, lifted her skirt, lowered her skirt, blew kisses
and posed seductively and then lewdly in front of the mirror for the good
part of an hour as the snow continued to fall heavily outside. She was
amazed at how seductive and sexy she looked. She never heard the car pull
up outside of the cottage.

When Steve drove up to the cottage he was quite surprised to find smoke
coming from the chimney and hear the hum of the generator. The lights were
on and there were obvious signs of occupation.

He looked through the various windows of the single story structure trying
to see who was staying at the cottage. He eventually he saw movement in one
of bedroom windows. Steve couldn't believe his eyes. A young coquette was
posing in front of a full-length vanity mirror; vamping it up and putting
on a show. She was dressed in skirt, blouse, hose and heels and wearing
heavy makeup. She wore her hair in a brunette bob and was very
attractive. She was sexy as hell and he stroked his hard cock through his
jeans as he watched her prance and pose in front of the mirror. He
particularly liked her long, well-toned, nylon-clad legs.

Steve had been looking at the girl though the window for about thirty
minutes mesmerised by her performance when he realised that if he stayed
outside much longer he would probably get frostbite. He went back to his
car and rummaged around in his duffle bag until he found his Polaroid
camera. He made his way back to the window where the snow was now beginning
to drift quite significantly and took several pictures of the young woman
as she posed in front of the mirror.

Maybe his excommunication from the family home might not be such a bad
thing? He was alone in the woods with a sexy teenage girl who had legs that
went on forever. He looked at the Polaroids he had taken, they were pretty
good; he had a couple of the woman front-on reflected in the mirror and a
few of her brazenly lifting her skirt. He didn't recognise her; but there
was something familiar about her that he couldn't quite fathom. He stuffed
the pictures in his pocket. It was time he went inside and introduced
himself.

The snow began to fall harder; the snowstorm was developing into a
blizzard.

To be continued......................