Thomasina Ch. 01

1. Busted and forced to submit

This is as near to being an autobiography as is consistent with writing a story – although it was my sister and a female cousin who confronted me, not two sisters. It was also a lot more than thirteen years ago!

My sisters, both of them, burst into my room without preamble before our parents' car had had time to clear the city. Immediately they'd left the house I'd gone up to my own room to get ready to go out as, I'd assumed, had both Teresa and Tamsin. I was right at that, they had gone back to their rooms but not to get ready to go out but, in fact to remove all their clothes and wrap themselves in diaphanous robes that did very little to disguise their otherwise naked bodies underneath.

Even though they are my sisters, I admit the sight of them both in their dishabille, Teresa two-and-a-half years older than me, Tamsin five years older (than me) save for one day, brought an instant response from my eighteen year old masculinity – tenting out the front of the boxers that I'd already reduced myself to.

Their words, in chorus, had an equally rapid, but opposite, reaction.

'How long is it since you first started wearing our knickers?'

Of course, I blustered and protested my innocence, feigning outrage at the mere suggestion of such an indignity. In truth, I could have answered them in minute detail – even down to the exact date on which I first plucked up the courage to obey a desire that had been growing within me for the best part of a year; ever since I'd first become aware of the straggly appearance of hair around the root of my cock.

*********

Now thirteen years ago, five years and two-and-a-half months prior to the confrontation with my sisters, one month to the day after my thirteenth birthday, on the 29th January, being left on the house on my own for the first time – ostensibly to complete some school work that I'd already in fact finished – I entered Teresa's room to obey a desire that had been growing inside me for nearly a year; a desire gradually intensifying to the point of taking over every thing else I tried to think about or do.

Since the onset of puberty shortly after my twelfth birthday, I had begun to take an increasingly prurient interest in my sisters' bodies, and in their clothes, particularly the more sophisticated underwear that Tamsin and, more recently, Teresa were beginning to assume. That interest soon included a nagging, niggling little thought, 'what would it feel like to actually wear my sister's panties?' Try as I might to dismiss it from my mind, that thought too increased and grew until it subsumed all else.

So here I was, in my youngest sister's room daring myself to put an end to the torture.

'Just this once,' I thought, 'if I try some on this once, that'll be the end of it.'

Little did I know!

I decided that, if I was going to go through with this I'd better experience the whole gambit. First I removed all my own clothes, folding them carefully and placing them on the bed. Then, stark naked and with an increasingly insistent erection, I began to open and study my sister's underwear draws; I didn't want to be 'rumbled' and knew that the tidy Teresa would recognise any disruption if I didn't put everything back exactly as I found it. I sorted out three pairs of pants from the array in front of me: a pair of pail lilac school knickers, in interlock cotton with a gusset capable of withstanding a guided missile, let alone a set of exploratory male or female fingers; a pair of light cotton briefs, in a delicate printed floral print with a deep elasticated broderie anglaise trim around the waist and a matching narrow trim around each leg; and, a pair of fragile lacy, nylon panties the sight of which confirmed my twitching and jerking cock into a solid and stiff erection.

In truth the school knickers didn't feel much different to my own discarded y-fonts, but they were the first pair of girl's knickers I'd ever put on and that fact alone was enough to make me caress my solidity through the heavy material. But I knew it wasn't enough. The light cotton briefs were better; the feel of the much more delicate material encasing my genitalia and the touch of the feminine trim around my waist and thighs inspired me to make my final experiment. As I pulled them up my legs around my flanks and thighs, and around my now throbbing and pulsing cock, the feel of those fragile lacy, nylon panties drove me to near ecstasy; I was unconscious of the movement of my hands downwards – but I became only to quickly aware of my plight as I caressed my cock through the delightful femininity into my first ever explosive orgasm, saturating the dainty lacy fabric with my outpouring!

Trying not to panic, I thought it through. Retreating into the bathroom I removed my panties ... my sister's panties and washed them as thoroughly as I could in the wash basin using the available soap. Back in the bedroom, with own cock and thighs also washed, and dried, I sought out my sister's hair-drier and used it to carefully dry the garment. It was surprisingly easy, the flimsy material reacting swiftly to the hot blast of air As it became apparent that my brainwave was going to be successful I even had the nerve to reassume the delicate cotton briefs I 'tried on' before the panties!

It didn't work of course; it wasn't 'a cure'. Nor did it stop at panties.

One foray into my sister's wardrobe wasn't enough! With increasing regularity I manoeuvred occasions to be in the house on my own so that I could once again adorn myself in my sisters' underwear. Nor did I content myself with using only Teresa's clothes; soon, I was 'trying on' Tamsin's and even my mother's exotic sets of lingerie. Slips and half-slips, bras initially padded out with handkerchiefs but later with balled up pairs of panties, suspender-belts (garter-belts) and stockings all became grist to my mill; as on the first occasion, I schooled myself to be extremely careful to replace any and all of the clothes I used in the position in which I found them. After that first time, too, I was always extremely careful to avoid 'coming' into any of the panties, briefs or knickers I wore, ensuring that, at the first indicative feeling of 'pre-cum', I eased my cock out to continue 'wanking' it until I exploded into a large 'wod' of cotton wool that could then be flushed away.

I soon found out my likes and dislikes, too.

From the first I didn't take to tights (pantyhose); the constriction of the garment around my body precluded any movement of the other underwear I'd appropriated underneath and thereby obviated the soft pull of the delicate, lacy, silky material across my supercharged nerve endings. To this day, I can't understand why some women (and some men) like them. Neither did I like thongs (gee-strings) that were incapable of accommodating my cock in the front and worked their way into the crack of my behind at the back. I did and do like French knickers, particularly those with deep layers of lace on the loose leg that, if you lie on your back, falls away leaving a froth of lace around the root of a rampant erection.

Arrayed in different sets of underwear, caressing my body through the delicate femininity, I paraded around the bedrooms admiring myself in whatever mirrors were available and always, eventually, masturbating myself to climax. I even adopted the habit of wearing a pair of either my sister's or my mother's high heeled shoes – fancying that they pushed my buttocks out into a more feminine shape – and became quite adept at moving around with the shortened step of a girl.

Strangely looking back, until my sisters confronted me, I never progressed beyond wearing underwear – I never dressed fully.

Also looking back on it all, it's seems a little surprising to me that I managed to keep my secret for as long as I did.

*********

My sisters didn't take any notice of my protestations.

'Don't be silly,' Tamsin commented, almost wearily, 'we know you've been wearing our underwear.'

Reaching forward she gave the legs of my boxer shorts a tug, sending them cascading down around my ankles. Before I could recover, or even protest, she twisted her fingers into my deep auburn pubic thatch.

'We've both found traces of these in our knickers!' She added.

'But ... but it's your own,' I spluttered, 'your hair is much the same as mine; your pubes must be the same, too.'

Silently both my sisters unfastened their robes and shrugged them backward off their shoulders to reveal their naked glory – two slender necks and pairs of shoulders, two pairs of pert bullet tipped breasts, two slender waists and shapely hips, two pairs of trim legs and two clean pink slightly mounded pudenda; both of which were shaved completely clean.

I know it's wrong to desire your sister, or sisters, but in the highly charged circumstances my cock again rose to full erection.

'Mum shaves as clean as we do,' Teresa said. 'She told us dad likes her to; he doesn't like getting hair in his mouth. Anyway, she's unlikely to borrow our clothes; certainly without telling or asking us. And dad's hair is black. That leaves you little brother ... or maybe I should say little sister!'

Busted!

I waited sullen, red faced and silent for their next move.

'Well, since you obviously want to be a girl,' my elder sister continued the conversation, almost as it was normal for the three of us to be standing stark naked talking about me appropriating my sisters clothes, 'we've decided to give you the chance. We, the three of us, are going to have a 'girlie' weekend; for the rest of the weekend we're going to help you to be a girl.'

It was the Thursday before the Easter weekend; our parents wouldn't be back from visiting our maternal grandparents until the following Tuesday; I was on holiday from school, Teresa was home from University, Tamsin was off from work; for the rest of that day and the next four I was to become a girl – Thomasina, a supposed cousin.

My sisters lead me into the bathroom and took me with them into the shower unit, a unit large enough to contain two in comfort and the three of us with a deal of intimacy I'd never shared with the two of them before – at least, not since I was about three.

They not so much supervised my ablutions as proceeded to wash me thoroughly, all over; washing themselves and each other at the time. It was the first time I'd ever showered with girls and the fact that they were my sisters did nothing to abate the arousal brought about by the experience of watching water flowing freely down over such pleasing femininity, coursing over their shoulders and the slope of their breasts, watching it drip from their pert rigid nipples and running on down over their flanks and thighs and the soft sweet swell of their shaven pudenda; having their naked flesh pressing against mine, and being brushed by those same delicate but firm breasts and erect nipples.

The two of them inspected my stalking erection with approval.

'Makes the next bit that much easier,' Tamsin said taking my rigid cock in her hand, as Teresa reached out of the cubicle for a tin of shaving foam and a razor.

I supposed I'd anticipated it and had to admit to myself that my elder sister's use of the razor, in the deft removal of both my pubic and underarm hair, was exemplary.

'If you're going to wear our clothes,' she added as she shaved me clean, 'in future we don't want any more strangers left in our knickers!'

Before we left the bathroom they inspected me critically for any other body hair, but didn't find enough to worry about; although they did make me shave my cheeks and chin.

We all three of us have the pale slightly freckled complexion that accompanies auburn hair, none of us had ... or have any body hair worth speaking about. And my face is such that, even now, two shaves a week are enough to keep me respectable; three are enough, given my slender frame, to maintain a more than adequate femininity.

Showered, shaved, dried and dusted with feminine smelling talc, I was then taken into Tasmin's room and the girls proceeded to dress me, and themselves, in my new persona.

*********

A pair of neat breast forms lay on the bed amongst an array of female underwear, Tasmin and Teresa had obviously planned the enterprise in some detail in advance. After fitting me into a delicate lacy nylon bra', the girls slipped a form into each cup and, for the first time, I had a proper looking bust-line – not one contrived of balled up handkerchiefs or panties. And, under their expert guidance and adjustment of the shoulder straps hands, my new bosom was perfectly placed. And for the first time the weight of the breast forms gave me an understanding of the different neck, shoulder and back muscles that girls have to use in supporting a pair of breasts.

'Stockings, or tights?' Teresa mused, more to herself than out loud, as she picked up a pair of matching, lacy panties.

'Stockings,' I said without thinking, 'I can't think why anyone would ever want to wear tights in preference.'

My sisters looked at me quizzically.

'Oho!' Tasmin exclaimed. 'So you've had experience of both; and you know what you like. Well, I suppose you're allowed a say in what you wear – to a certain extent, at least. Stockings it'll be.'

Teresa put down the panties and picked up the corresponding suspender-belt and that too was fitted around me, again properly adjusted for the first time, for the length and set of the stockings that were the next thing added.

The continued proximity of the deliciously naked bodies of my two sisters and, I admit, the prospect of my body being once again wrapped in delectable femininity did nothing to assuage the ever more urgent and increasingly obvious arousal of my body.

If I expected and desired either of my sisters to order me to lift a foot to step into my panties next, I was disappointed. Instead the both stood back and viewed me critically. Then, sitting me on a stool in front of the dressing table, they proceeded to experiment with make-up; applying different shades of foundation, blusher, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick until they were satisfied with what appeared to me be a rather understated result. Then, with equal intent, they addressed my hair until they'd achieved a satisfactory feminine sweep in my short locks. Next they turned their attention to my hands and applied cream and filed and buffed my nails until, again, they were satisfied. The image that now greeted me from the dressing table mirror was astounding. It was Thomasina's reflection, not Thomas's, that stared back at me.

Even when I started to my feet the incongruity of a rigid, shaven, thrusting cock – framed over the top by the lacy panel of my nylon suspender-belt, at the sides by the satin straps of my suspenders and underneath by the lacy welt of my stocking tops – enhanced rather than detracted from the femininity of the image.

The two girls, who had so far remained naked, now addressed their own costume. The lingerie my sisters had supplied for me, inclusive of the panties I still awaited, was in a delicate shade of lemon. There were two similar sets on the bed in pale green and a soft silver blue. Tamsin started to dress in the green set, Teresa in the blue. As they had with me, they dressed themselves in bra', suspender-belt and stockings and sat to apply make-up and dress their hair. Still pantyless, like me, they stood and, moving one each side of me, guided me to the large mirror on the wardrobe and there was reflected the image of three slender young woman, all auburn haired, much of a height, pale slightly freckle dusted complexioned, dressed alike in delicate lacy nylon – even if the one in yellow still sported a raging erection.

Well, I suppose that the image of the central figure was not quite so much that of a young woman as that of one of the pretty, feminine Thai ladyboys that you can see on the internet.

'We're going to have to do something about that before you can put your panties on,' Tasmin said, with reference to my throbbing and insistent erection.

So saying she squatted down in front of me with her legs apart, thus offering me an uninterrupted view of the sweet slightly parted lips of her vagina with the discernable swell of an engorged clitty showing through. The first time I'd actually seen one 'in the flesh', so to speak. Careless of my fascinated gaze, my sister took my cock in her hand and, opening her mouth, guided it in. My first 'blow job'!

Expertly, my sister began to suck, sliding her teeth, tongue and lips on the barrel and tip of my shaft until I exploded in a massive outburst that, continuing to suck, she swallowed with every appearance of relish. And still she continued to suck and manipulate my cock until she'd drained me completely – and my now completely deflated masculinity lay limply between her lips.

'Should be okay now,' she said, as she stood up.

The two girls led me back into the bathroom where they carefully washed and dried my genitalia, and liberally powdered me with the same talc they'd used before; and Tasmin washed her mouth out.

Only then did they lead me back into the bedroom and finally add the matching lacy nylon panties to my ensemble – adding their own to theirs at the same time.

Always before, the assumption of panties pulled deliciously up around my thighs, flanks and genitals had been a signal to my body for renewed arousal. This time my deflated cock lay completely dormant, not even a twitch, so complete had been my sister's ministrations.

The signs of careful preparation persisted. My sisters added matching slim, lace trimmed short half-slips to our costume, then long sleeved, high necked cotton blouses in stripes of white pale and yellow, blue and green respectively; then slim fitting linen skirts, that reached to just above knees, in a darker shades of our basic costume; and, finally, three inch 'court shoes' the colour of our skirts.

Three linen jackets, a match for each of our skirts, were all that now remained.

After critical appraisal, and some adjustment of the set of my skirt, my sisters pronounced themselves satisfied. Teresa picked up the jackets and, between the two them, they shepherded me to the top of the stairs.

Here-to-fore I had always confined my fantasy femininity to the bedrooms and bathroom; now I was confronted with the prospect of entering 'en-femme' into the outside world. My confidence was about to be tested to the utmost, but there was nothing for it – Thomasina was about to make her debut. Tasmin and Teresa were ready to face the great outdoors with Thomasina; Thomasina wasn't quite so ready!