I LOVE panties.

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I LOVE panties.

Eventually, you want more - and sometimes there's people to hinder, sometimes they help.
This an Alys-500 story with exactly 500 words of text. Anyone can take this and grow it; acknowledgment would be kind and polite.


I’d been wearing panties for a while. My younger sister Ellie had noticed once and then deliberately tried to catch me out – too many times successfully. But she kept quiet about it. And last birthday informed me that I had to go to town with her to carry the shopping. Somehow, ha, I had been force-helped to buy three sets of bra and panty and extra panties too for myself. Tucked away at the back of her chest-of-drawers.

My older sister Tanya didn’t know, I think. My mother obviously didn’t know nor did my dad.

I was 17, not a macho-monster. I had some muscle from the judo I was still doing after 6 years. My name’s Richard Roden Dale-Dalton. For rather obvious reasons I got nicknamed R2D2 then Robot then, after a few years someone invented StarBore. I still think that was unfair – and hurtful.

But now I had access to those pretties – life became both more wonderful and much less comfortable. How? You ask.

It was wonderful to be able to wear the panties often and the bra as often as possible. But the wonderfulness came with the much greater risk of discovery.

As a sort of joke to myself, I called my girl-part Roberta. Close to ‘robot’ – I knew that. But I was happy with the choice. It’s one of the few things a new-girl really has a choice about – what name to adopt.

I’d gradually learnt some of the jargon about trans, cross-dressing, and all that. Most important I’d learnt ‘There were others like me’. And I’d learnt that a key to being accepted was being comfortable with who I was.

Somewhere I’d read ‘Passing takes Confidence’ and as I approached time to go to college, I began planning. What would I feel most comfortable wearing when I went out … yes, I had told myself WHEN not IF.

I had started growing my hair – and looking after it a bit – maybe not as much effort as Tanya or Ellie – but better than most boys ever did. I looked at clothes on the web, and girl-watched while out.

The calendar rolled towards September. I would be in a flat with 2 other first-years, separate rooms, in a quiet cul-de-sac. I would set myself up as metrosexual ambivalent androgynous. It was much more possible now as we approached the year 2000.

I was NOT expecting my mum to ask ‘When I post you anything will it be to you or your sister Roberta’.

Speechless – oh no – far beyond that. Stunned, Shocked and Gasping.

“I’m your mum. I used to have eyes in the back of my head. Did you truly think I didn’t know. I am a bit sad I’ve never got to meet you properly. Now that you’re getting over the shock – d’y need any help. What sort of clothes you need to take, for example.

I heard a giggle. Tanya said ‘Can I help – please?”

And another, from Ellie. “You need more than just panties.”

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Comments

You Can't Fool 'Em

joannebarbarella's picture

They say mothers always know. Do they? I think I fooled my mother, but then I'll never know, will I ?

There's stories about them all ...

the ones who know and wait, the ones who know and support, the ones who know and hate and the same set of three who suspect and the ones who don't know. There's probably some really good stories as well as some true-tales.

I think I can safely say . . .

Emma Anne Tate's picture

my mom never had a clue. She had some difficulty seeing past herself. But this is a lovely tale in the “love and acceptance” camp. Thanks, Alys. :)

Emma