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Curiosity Killed The Boy

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Curiosity Killed The Boy

It was a Thursday afternoon, July 14th. I remember because we lost power, and my life changed. Without the computer or television to entertain me, I became bored. Looking for something to do, I noticed the laundry basket full of Sis’s lingerie. To this day, I could not tell you why I was curious.

Curiosity Killed The Boy 8

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Eight

All week I thought about sleeping in the night gown. Now it lay next to me on the bed. Mom knowing what I liked to do, and being OK about it, should have been a relief. I should be embracing her acceptance. Instead, I sat hesitant. What if I want to go back? What if I never want to go back? I thought about what she said. Do I enjoy wearing girl’s clothes? Yes. Do I enjoy pretending to be a girl? Is it pretending? I know I am a boy. Correction I have a boy’s body. I had many questions and no real answers.

Curiosity Killed The Boy 7

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Seven

I checked my closet. The bra and panty I hid in a bag on the closet shelf were still there. I wanted to go into the spare bedroom and look in the dresser drawer for the night gown. Either Mom or Sis changed the sheets. Neither acted unusual nor treated me different. I assumed it had to be Sis; Mom would have said something to me. I paced the room wondering what I should do.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yeah,” I didn’t open the door.

“If you are looking for the night gown, I put it in the top drawer."

Curiosity Killed The Boy 6

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Six

Dad was late arriving on Saturday. He was supposed to pick me up by noon, he didn’t show until three. He took one look at me and stated, “What’s with the hair?” I told him I was letting it grow out. Mom saw an opening, “If you sent the money you owed maybe I could afford to get him a haircut." Dad shook his head and told me to go. Mom wanted the last word, “See if you can have him back on time."

Curiosity Killed The Boy 5

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Five

“Starting next week you have to spend two weeks with your father,” Mom stated as a fact.

“What, why?”

“It is part of the divorce settlement,” Another cold fact.

“Is Sis coming?”

“No,” I see her minor shake of the head with a frown. Her way of saying, I’m sorry when delivering bad news.

“Why not? Why do I have to go and not her?” I once again get screwed.

“I have a job. I can’t get off."

Sis looked happy stating that fact. “I don’t want to go,” I was afraid of him.

Curiosity Killed The Boy 4

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Four
It had been three weeks since the day I wore my first outfit. I’ve started making some minor modifications to my daily routine. I took baths, long hot bubble baths, instead of showers. I’ve been shaving my legs, armpits and private area. I started wearing panties. I slept in a night gown. Part of me thought I was making too many changes to fast. The joy I felt each day only encouraged me to go further.

“Mom. Did you use my lip stick?” Sis asked.

“No,” Mom looked at Sis. “Why?”

Curiosity Killed The Boy 3

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Three

I sat on my bed wearing an aqua baby-doll night gown and panty. The cotton balls were stuffed between my toes. I shook the bottle of red nail polish, thinking about the risks. I didn’t think it likely that Mom or Sis would ever see my painted toes. It would only be for a few days. I was confident I would never be caught. I found it exciting to have a secret. Like when I wore panties for the entire day. Mom and Sis never knew. I knew, every time I stood or sat I felt the panties caress my bottom. It made me feel naughty, and I found that exhilarating.

Curiosity Killed The Boy 2

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Since the divorce things have changed. Sis and Mom work more, and the house isn’t as tidy. Mom is more stressed. She complains about money all the time, and my good-for-nothing father. Some changes have been for the better. Mom and I haven’t received a thrashing; her for being a whore, and me for being a dumb ass. I was growing my hair long.

Curiosity Killed The Boy 1

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Curiosity Killed The Boy

My older sister always had more clothes than I. Her closet and dresser were full. The closet in the spare bedroom was packed with outfits that didn’t fit her or were deemed out of style. There were boxes of her old clothes on the floor of the closet. Since Monica took care of her clothes, Mom had a habit of saving her stuff. “You never know when they may come into use,” she would say.

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