Busted

Growing up without a male authority was great. There was nobody to
yell at you if you did anything wrong. Yes, life was grand. Sleep in on
school days, watch cartoons all morning, and best of all, mom was always
away working during the day, so I had the whole house to myself.
Now I have to say for the purpose of understanding, I was around 8
years old during the time of this story. It was now five months into the
school year, and the initial excitement of being in third grade had worn
off. I stayed home that day from school "sick". Mom had come up to my room,
kissed me on the forehead and said she would see me when she gets home. As
soon as her car pulled out of the driveway I was up and ready to take over
the house.
I always liked being home alone because it gave me a chance to
explore the areas of the house that mom would yell at me for if she was
there. I always went into her private bathroom because there was so much
neat stuff that weren't in my bathroom. She had lady's razors, funny
looking bath gels, and frilly pink towels. What did she need her towels to
look pretty for anyway?
In front of the mirror there was a whole array of make-up,
lip-sticks, brushes and pads that I had once or twice seen her rubbing and
scraping her face with. I got curious and walked over to the stool and sat
down. Mom would really wonder what I was doing if she saw me doing this. I
opened up the lipstick and put some on my lips. I laughed as I missed most
of my lips, and ended up with a pink moustache. I wiped the lipstick off
and tried again, this time more carefully. Perfect. I dabbed my lips on a
tissue as I had seen my mother do so many times, and looked in the mirror.
It was strange. Being only eight, I had no facial hair, and my face
resembled somewhat of a tomboy, with my hair still cut short. This
intrigued me, and I began to put on some of that skin colored stuff that
comes off like powder. This took a few minutes but when I was done, I
couldn't believe my eyes. Looking back at me was myself as if I had been
born a girl. Again, besides for the hair. This was too weird. I wiped off
the lipstick and washed my face with one of her pink frilly towels. I
retired to the living room to watch cartoons and eat breakfast. I spent the
majority of the day plopped out on the couch just watching tv. My mom
pulled into the driveway around 4:00, and I quickly jumped up and into the
kitchen, remembering I was supposed to get supper started.
She walked through the door, and put her stuff down and came over
to ask me how I felt. She felt my forehead to see if I was running a
fever. As she was reaching her hand out, she made a funny look like
something was wrong. I asked what was wrong, and she asked if I was wearing
makeup. My face turned three shades of red. I tried denying with a no, but
she persisted, and wiped some remains of the makeup off and showed it to
me. I was busted. How could I deny it with some of it on her fingers?
I tried explaining but she wouldn't let me finish. She told me that
what I was doing was perfectly natural. She was not mad, and she would help
me in any way she could. She even started by taking me up to her bedroom
and laying out some clothes she thought might fit. She said it would be fun
to play dress-up, as she didn't have a daughter, and wondered what it would
be like to have one. I was completely shocked. I was just experimenting,
and here she was making it a big deal. I decided not to upset her and just
play along, it would all pass.

She started telling me how she had always wanted a little daughter
that she could dress up and go shopping with. Not that she was disappointed
with me, but without my father around, it would be kind of difficult for
her to have another child. When my father left her many years back, she
went through a long stage of depression, and I was the only one there for
her during that time, so I feel that is where we developed that close
bond. But where was this bond leading? Now she has me sitting in her bed,
while she rummages through her closet to find the perfect outfit for ME! I
sat there just looking around, trying to act as casual as possible, while
inside my head I was overcome with emotions. I didn't know whether I was
excited or nervous, probably a little of both.
I snapped out of it when my mother had appeared to have selected
the perfect outfit from her closet and laid them down next to me on the
bed. Nervously, I glanced over at her selection and was shocked to find
that she had been rather extreme with her selections considering this was
the first time I had ever done anything like this. I know she was letting
me explore, and trying to be helpful, but in a strange way it felt like she
was trying to punish me.
"Mom, I can't wear that. There's NOOOOOO way!" I tried to protest.
"Nonsense. It will look great, just give it a chance." she said as
she brushed her hand against my face.

I couldn't believe I was actually going to do this, and in front of
my own mother for that matter! There next to me on the bed, she had laid
out a black garter belt, black stockings, a dress she wore when she was
little girl, and a pair of Mary Jane shoes to complete the outfit. Since I
was 8 years old, there was no need for a bra. She told me that she would
fix my make-up after I had got into the dress because she didn't want to
get any on the dress. I actually agreed with her when she said this, and
she gave me a little smile and told me to take off my clothes so we could
get started.
Hesitantly, I removed my pants and then my shirt. As I sat on her
bed in just my socks and underwear, she said, "Oh, I almost forgot! A
little girl can't be walking around in a pair of boy's underwear, can he?"
My face turned three shades of red when she said this. She wasn't going to
actually make me wear panties was she?! Sure enough, she handed me a pair
of pink panties and told me to take off my underwear and put those on. I
cringed as I removed the last bit of boyhood and stood there fully naked in
front of my mother.
"What are you just standing there for? You surely don't need my
help putting those on."
I sighed and grabbed the pink panties and began to step into
them. I was shocked as I slid them up my legs at how smooth they felt, so
much different then boy's underwear. I think I may even have had a little
smile on my face as I pulled them all the way up, encasing my penis in a
harness of silk. It was the closest thing to ecstasy I had felt in all my 8
years. I think my mother could tell this too, as she stood there smiling at
me, even giggling as I stood there staring down at my newly found joy.
"You're going to need my help putting these on." she said as she
motioned towards the garter belt. Just then she changed her mind, and went
back to her dresser. She returned with a pair of white tights.
"Little girls don't wear garter belts. I must have gotten caught up
in the moment." she said as she chuckled and looked at me to see if I'd
laugh with her. I couldn't laugh, but just wonder who was enjoying this
more. She had me sit down on the edge of the bed, while she slowly rolled
them up my legs. I can't describe the feeling I felt then, except to say
that my legs became alive. A tingling sensation began in my toes and shot
straight up to my thighs as she finished pulling them up. I stood up and
pulled them the rest of the way up, carefully, as she instructed. I ran my
hands over my legs and got goose bumps. I would have never guessed that
this could feel so good.
"Hands up in the air, little girl." Mom told me.
She put my arms through the holes and brought the dress down over
my body. She made sure to smooth it all out and make sure it looked perfect
before she stepped back to check on her work. The dress came down to my
knees, and looking down at myself, I was a girl. There was no questions
about it. I felt a sensation stirring inside me that I had never felt
before. Almost a tingling, but much better. Next thing to do was to put on
the shoes. Thank god the shoes didn't have any heels on them. I'm not sure
how I would have handled learning to walk in heels while also taking in all
these new sensations.
Mom placed them on the floor in front of me and I stepped into them
one by one, and she fastened them in for me. They didn't feel like my
sneakers at all, especially now that I was wearing tights. I took a few
steps around the room, and was surprised to find that it wasn't
uncomfortable at all like I had expected it to be. I'm not sure if it was
the shoes or what, but I was even starting to imitate the girls I had seen
at school, and how they walked. Mom picked up right away on this and said,
"Well, I guess that's one less thing I am going to have to teach you." and
then she gave me a quick wink.
What did she mean by that? Wasn't she just allowing me to
experiment? Now it sounds like she is planning the rest of my life out for
me. I gave her a quick smile so she wouldn't feel bad, and walked back over
to the bed. She came over and gave me a kiss on the forehead and said,
"Your such a pretty little girl. Let's do your make-up so we can get
going?" My eyes opened wide at that comment. Where did she plan on going,
and why would I be going with her dressed like this?