It's time – time to grow a pair!

There’s two meanings here – one for boys … get a pair of macho-type balls OR … grow some breasts.

This is an Alys-500 story for anyone to borrow and grow

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There’s two meanings here – one for boys … get a pair of macho-type balls OR … grow some breasts.

I want BOTH. I’m going to stay male, active so to speak with girls AND I want to dress in the sort of clothes I enjoy and prefer.
Has your stuttering brain caught up yet?

Being a modern boy is SO unfair. I can’t wear anything pretty, anything soft, anything pastel, anything that girls can wear is somehow forbidden to me.

But if you really want something – then, eventually, you have to get on with the getting. Sitting at home just ‘wanting’ something … well, nothing happens does it?

Sitting at home, wearing what I wish, the panties, bra, slip, dress, garter-belt, stockings of course, 2 inch heels, lipstick and, y’know, all the pretty things (and a small spray of Lovely-Girl’. That’s as far as I go. I don’t go out, I just wander the house ….
Oh fuff. I’m going to go out. I want to go out. I SHALL go out. I’m in the hallway – check, check, check, is anything amiss?

OKAY ...... To the door, keys, purse.
OKAY ...... To the car, careful with the heels and away.
OKAY ...... To the shopping-centre, no, veer right into the high street. There’s some shops I want to try.

I went past the Nailbar – later for you. Past the hairdressers, later once I was dressed to my new desired level of satisfaction. M&S – to buy new panties and bra for daily use. The girl there was very matter of fact, she asked if I knew my size. Then she added, the training course I’ve just been on reminded me to ask if you were fitted at the correct time of the month since so many women have a different size at times.

I think my expression gave me away. She smiled – but some don’t worry about that. You’re a 38 C maybe? I can sell you something pretty.

I strolled away, the happy possessor of a bag full of pretty undies and two lovely satin-type blouses, one in dark red with black trim (to match one set) and the other in mid-blue with green trim (nothing to match – just my favourite colours).

Then to the dress shop. This was a high street that still had such. Sadly, not a corseterie, nor a bridal-shop nor any variety of the very specialist shops to be found in a much larger town. But they had clothes that suited me – and they were pleasingly tolerant.

The owner was called Maddie. We had talked a few times and she knew quite enough about clubs and a rather unusual group called the BigSisters. I was due to go on one of their weekend events soon. Maddie had helped me choose a lovely evening frock for their Saturday night.

“You’re going to have to get a better pair for this dress, y’know.”

“How big, I’m usually C.”

“Then at least D. Yes-no, darling?”

“eerrgh, another new bra, eh? D, golly.”