Start at the beginning

I want to explain why I'm running for the state legislature, but that's the end of the story. How I got there isn't a straight shot, in fact it is quite an elliptical path.

Have you ever tried to explain something that seems so simple to your brain, but no matter where you start telling you find you have to jump back to something earlier in order for your story to make sense? For now, at least. I have to start by telling you why I'm fascinated by bras, so you can see it's just isn't as simple as you might wish. That's why I have to start with Ms Lubbers, my second grade art teacher.

Actually, Ms Lubbers was my art teacher from first grade all the way up to sixth. Not only did we get out of Mrs Halpurn's second grade class - she was boring! - but Mrs Lubbers made art downright fun. It was in second grade she taught us how to draw all kinds of shapes. Circles, squares, rectangles, triangles, rhombuses, even trapezoids. I really liked that word - trapezoid, but best of all were ovals.

Drawing ovals? Big deal you might say, but for me it was a big deal. There was something innately satisfying about the smooth curve of an oval. I doodled ovals, made chains of ovals, they took over my life for a while. It was just a short step from there to an ellipse, which is just a part of an oval. You can doodle some very interesting shapes with ovals and ellipses. Naturally, life moved on and I developed other fascinations, but I still was rather partial to ovals.

My shrink tells me I may as well admit it - I was obsessed with ovals. Obsessed with oblongs? Anyone reading this will be familiar with the concept of obsession - albeit for women's clothes clothes or feminine behavior - but I was too young to realize that I was obsessed.

Next, we have to move - I just can't help saying it - by an elliptical path to the next incident. I was about ten years old, and playing in the backyard with my neighbor Jasper. It was late on a summer's afternoon, warm and sunny as we played on the swing-set. Jasper wound himself up in the swing and started spinning around as the chains unwound. I really don't know what possessed me to start walking toward him as he spun around, but I did and his feet met my nose with a very solid whack! I ended up on the ground dripping blood in all directions while Jasper was vainly trying to extricate himself from the embrace of the swing. I was hurting and staring at the blood -my blood! - and realizing it really hurt. Abandoning any pretense of being a big boy I made a beeline for my mother.

At this point I find I have to make another side excursion in order to have the next part of the story make sense. My father had abandoned us when I was in kindergarten, leaving just me and my mother. I was finally old enough to understand what had happened by the time I was ten, even if it was a pretty simple understanding. In any case, it had been just me and Mom for quite a few years. No, I didn't grow up being treated like a girl, I didn't have bullies calling me sissy or anything like that. I'd like to think I was just a pretty normal ten year old kid - not a ten year old boy or ten-year-old girl, just a typical kid.

OK, back to the story. I was hurting and dripping blood and didn't care about the normal rules of privacy. I burst through the door to Mom's bedroom wailing like a banshee only to find her sitting at her makeup table in only her bra and panties as she got ready to go out to dinner with some of her friends. I'm sure that was not the first time I had seen her in her underthings, but that was when I was a very little kid and I didn't remember. She turned to me and I ran to her and whimpered my tale of woe and pain into her breasts.

Overblown prose, eh? My ten year old self didn't think so. So I was cosseted and led to her bathroom where I was cleaned up and calmed down. When I could breathe slowly and open my eyes, I saw my mother's back in the mirror. To my surprise, her bra described a perfect ellipse. I was stunned. Mom got to wear an ellipse every day when she got dressed. How cool was that? My suffering transmuted to jealousy, but before I could say anything I was escorted from her bedroom so she could remove her blood and snot soaked bra and get ready for the evening.

So now you know where my obsession with bras started Don't worry - it only gets better as time goes on.

 

I almost blew it. All kids are actors, right? I milked my injuries for all they were worth, to the point that Mom almost canceled her date and stayed home. I know, I know! I was only ten years old - in these days of helicopter parents and absolute, bubble-wrapped protection to keep our vulnerable children innocent and unspoiled leaving a ten year old home alone would cause institutional horror and investigations by a veritable alphabet soup of agencies.

Without actually admitting my current age, let us just say that I grew up in a place and time where kids rode bikes without helmets and swam in isolated pools of water without lifeguards and nobody gave a damn. Thus, once I had realized that Mom wore a garment that actually incorporated an ellipse I just had to investigate.

Now I had gotten the Birds and Bees lecture (in terms suitable to my age, of course) and naturally some of the more "advanced" guys had told some improbable stories about what could be done with girls, but at that point in my life it didn't really penetrate. I knew bras were something girls wore. However, I really hadn't started to notice girls as the opposite sex, but just as one variety of friend. Thinking about it, I realized that there were a few girls who had noticeable breasts even at ten years old, those were the ones the so-called advanced guys talked about. Actually, it seemed a bit creepy to me.

Be that as it may, once Mom was gone I went into the laundry room to further my education. There was Mom's bra hanging on a hook drying out after she had tried to remove the bloodstains. It was hanging by one strap and you couldn't see that inviting oval shape that way. Touching it, it was cold and soggy - not appealing at all. What a disappointment!

But wait! If I had a whole bunch of underwear so I had a fresh pair every day, then wouldn't Mom have a bunch of bras so she didn't have to wear the same one over and over without washing? Of course she did - she was wearing a bra when she went out, so that meant there were at least two of them. In fact, now that I was thinking about it, there were several of them hanging up to dry every washday. But did I dare…

I didn't dare. It just seemed rude to paw through Mom's clothes no matter how interesting they might be. With a sigh I turned around and noticed the laundry hamper was pretty full. It was Friday and Saturday was washday. Could I find a bra in there? I crept up on the basket and was just reaching in when the phone rang!

It scared the crap out of me. I wasn't doing anything really wrong, but it wasn't something I was going to boast about either. I ran to the kitchen and answered the phone. It was Mom, checking up to be sure I was OK.

I told her my nose was a little stuffy but otherwise I felt fine. She told me the stuff parents tell their kids, like be good and go to bed at the right time and all that icky stuff. I told her I would and she hung up. I wonder what she would have said if I told her I wanted to look at her bra. NOT!

It seems silly now, but to my childish brain it was just like Mom was reading my mind, spying on me when I was about to do something that wasn't exactly forbidden, but something I knew was not quite right. So I turned off the lights in the laundry room and found something else to amuse myself until she got home.

 

When I woke up the next day I had forgotten about my guilty conscience. I went over to Jasper's house and told him I was perfectly fine after meeting his foot with my nose, and no I wasn't mad. We got on our bikes and went off to terrorize the nearby park, then came home for lunch. His mom had turkey sandwiches for us. His Mom and my Mom had some sort of deal to keep an eye on us over the summer so I spent a lot of time at Jasper's place.

I had just opened my mouth to take a bite when I noticed that I could see Jasper's Mom's bra through the back of her blouse. Her bra had that same ellipse that my mother's did. Up until that very moment I had never cared that you could see a bra through the thin fabric of a pale blue blouse, but the sight brought back all yesterday's turmoil.

Not only that, but I was old enough to realize checking out your buddy's Mom's bra was pretty weird. The only time I had ever thought about bras when when those self-declared sex experts at school had commented on someone's breasts. Not that they called them breasts, it was always something like boobs or tits or honkers.

Fortunately, neither she or Jasper knew what was going through my mind. I finished my sandwich and Jasper and I fled the house to see what kind of trouble we could get into. We ran into some of the other guys and I managed to completely forget about ovals and ellipses and bras for the rest of the afternoon.

An elephant (or an obsessed kid) never forgets

Remember I said Saturday was laundry day? After lunch on Saturday Mom started on the laundry, since she was busy with other things during the morning. I had barely finished putting my dishes in the sink when Mom told me to be sure I had all my laundry down in the laundry room or it wouldn't be washed until next week. I'm usually pretty good about getting my stuff into the laundry basket, but last night I was a bit distracted so I knew my clothes were still in my room. So I went upstairs and collected everything I could find (so OK, there was more than just yesterday's clothes) and brought them down. Just as I got there Mom was unhooking her blood-stained bra from the hanging rack.

"You sure managed to make a mess of my bra, kid. I hope I can get the stains out."

"Sorry, Mom I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't honey. It's just the darn things are pretty expensive."

"They are?"

"Not something you'll have to worry about, but a good bra can thirty dollars or more."

"They can? What makes a bra so good that it costs that much?"

Thirty dollars? Why my trousers cost less than that and had a whole lot more material.

Mom started to laugh. "I never expected to talk about bras with my son - that's something mothers usually have to explain to their daughters."

"Well, you're kinda like mom and dad to me, so why can't I be son and daughter to you?"

"That's one of the most skewed pieces of logic I've ever run across."

"What's skewed mean?"

"Twisted, off center, maybe complicated."

"Like when you complained your bra strap is twisted?"

"You really noticed that?"

"You did a funny dance when you were complaining. Is that how you untwist it?"

A while back I said I hadn't really thought about bras before in my young life. Dredging this memory out of the swamp between my ears may have put the lie to that. Maybe I was interested in bras even then, but didn't want to admit it to myself.

"I can't believe I'm discussing this. If you really need to know, you usually stick your finger under the strap and slide it back until it untwists." She illustrated it by actually doing it.

"Sometimes the darn thing just won't untwist and that's when you do a dance trying to get your finger back far enough to make it straighten out. It's a lot easier if you're wearing a blouse with a wide neck."

"Cool, I must be the only boy on our block that knows how to untwist a bra strap."

"It's a lesson you may appreciate when you get older."

"Huh?"

"At some point you're going to get interested in girls. When you do, most boys get interested in how to remove a bra."

"I guess…"

"Enough of that - let's get this laundry sorted and in the wash. Since you have this sudden interest in bras, you can take the pre-wash and spray the bloodstains you put on my bra before we put it in the wash."

"Awww mom!"

"What? Too macho to handle a bra? I thought you were going to be both my son and my daughter."

"Does that mean I have to wear a bra?"

"With straps as twisted as your mind. Do it while I finish sorting."

So I did. Good grief! Mom actually asked me to handle her bra. It felt weird, stretchy in the back and and smooth on the front. You couldn't really lay the thing flat to spray it with the pre-wash because the cups were poking up. It kind of brought home that girls had breasts and boys didn't, in a whole new way.

That conversation may have been the start of it all - the idea of being both a son and a daughter. If I were a daughter then I would have a bra, right? That way I wouldn't have to look in a laundry basket to see one.

Nah! Crazy idea.

 

About an hour later the washer buzzed and Mom looked at me.

"So is my new half-daughter interested in learning how to do laundry?"

"Do I get an increase in my allowance?"

"Nice try, kid. You get clean clothes and learn new life skills. Someday you're going to have to do your own wash, so you ought to know how."

"You mean you won't stop by my house to do my laundry when I'm grown up?"

"You usually have a wife for that. While you're in college most boys just run around stinky and wear dirty clothes."

"Yuk!"

"Then you better learn how do do laundry. Follow me to your first lesson."

So I followed.

"The first load we did was the whites. We separate whites from the colors because sometimes the dyes in colored clothes leak out and you don't want pink or purple or dirty gray sheets and unmentionables."

"Unmentionables?"

"Some big, strong men have a hard time saying words like brassiere, panty or camisole; afraid they might have verbal cooties or something. So overly polite people started calling them unmentionables since they didn't want to mention them."

"That's silly!"

"Granted, but people get pretty silly about anything that borders on talking about sex. Since only women wear bras some people think it's too close to talking about sex."

"Like the Birds and Bees stuff?"

"Yup. Your father and I had sex and nine months later you came along. Someday you'll have sex with a woman you love and I'll end up with a grandchild."

"I don't know if I want to get involved with this sex stuff…"

"You're still too young. In a few years you'll change your mind and we can talk about it in more detail. This is not getting the laundry done, you know."

"OK, so what do we do?"

"In this load, everything but my bras goes in the dryer. You don't dry bras because the heat will weaken the elastic and they won't fit properly any more. I'll hang the bras and you put the rest in the dryer. Then we can load the washer with the colors."

So I did, but I was kind of disappointed I didn't get to hang up her bras. By the way, we did get the blood out of the bra. Apropos of nothing, wouldn't Blood On The Bra be a great title for an adult Western film?

Indecision

Have you ever wanted to do something but hesitated because you didn't want to disappoint someone or maybe get in trouble? That was me for the next few days. I still wanted to get a closer look at the oval in Mom's bra, but wasn't sure I should. I certainly knew that a boy shouldn't be handling a bra - unless he was helping his mother with the wash - although how I knew that I couldn't tell you. It's one of those things that you soak in through your pores as you grow up.

Certainly nobody had taken me aside and said explicitly that boys didn't mess with bras, their mother's or anyone else's for that matter. Well, at least not at ten years old. A few years later I would learn that messing with a girl's bra - at least while she was wearing it - was both a goal and something you didn't talk about. Mixed messages, depending on who was sending the message.

So it came to pass that in the middle of the week I noticed that Mom had left a bra on the top of the basket in the laundry room. I dithered, decided that Mom was out in the back yard and wouldn't notice, so I picked it up. I was destined to be disappointed, though. Instead of making a natural ellipse, the straps were sewn at an angle that made the back of the bra look more like a trapezoid. Big deal, so I put it back.

A little while later, Jasper and the gang ended up at the local swimming pool on a warm day. As I sat for a while just enjoying the sun, I realized that the girl's swimming suits were just fancy bras that they wore without any clothes to hide them. Suddenly I was able to actually study how the bra was made. To my surprise, the backs of the bras (or bikini tops, if you like) had a whole bunch of different ways they were made. Naturally, I liked the ones that had a nice ellipse shape with the straps flowing from the band, but there were some that were just strings tying in the back and around the neck, some with all kinds of little straps crisscrossing, some with that trapezoid shape, some with lace, some with those little hooks to hold them together and some that didn't.

Naturally, Sam caught me looking at girls and gave me grief about it, so I stopped looking and started swimming; but even as I was swimming I was thinking about bras. What would it be like to wear a bra?

Naturally, I had to find out.

Naturally, after I had decided I wanted to find out what wearing a bra would feel like I didn't get the chance.

When I got home from the pool, Mom was there so I wasn't going to be investigating the laundry hamper that evening. Nor would I be able to for quite some time as Mom was home several days in a row.

Then I had play-dates (Don't you detest that word? It seems to mean mostly free babysitting.) A week later she was gone on Sunday for a few hours, but since we did the laundry on Saturday there was nothing in the basket for me to investigate. It was over two weeks before the stars aligned and I was home alone and there was a bra in the hamper. As soon as I was sure I was alone I tried it on.

Talk about your disappointment! I was ten years old, fer cryin' out loud, and skinny at that! Mom was much bigger than me, it just didn't fit. I tried sort of folding the cups together in front and looking in the mirror to see my back, but all I got was a neckache.

It wasn't too much longer after my unsuccessful experiment that school started and I didn't have too much time to think about bras, as least bras on me. I did find I was pretty much aware of bras on girls, which should come as no surprise, but it was more the bra that interested me, not the girl.

Along with my fascination with bras came a gradual fascination with the clothes girls wore. At school, the girls mostly wore the same things as we boys wore - jeans and T-shirts - but they sure looked different on the girls. The girls - at least some of them - had breasts and hips, we didn't. Then there were things like the cheerleaders wore - very short skirts and panties that you could see half the time. The head cheerleader's panties were a heck of a lot more interesting than the quarterback's ass, no matter how well muscled the guy was. Besides, the cheerleaders wore bras, not any quarterback I had ever seen.

When it came to dressing up, the girls had it all over us boys. Bright colors, clothing with a suppleness that no lousy suit could match. Girls flowed, guys chafed under neckties. I was jealous. Most of the time I was content with my lot, but every so often I longed to be able to find out what the girls felt like. As far as I could see, there was no way for me to find out, so I just kept being the same old me.

That all changed a couple of years later.

Time Cures Many Problems

Nothing much happened for quite some time. Really, there wasn't much in my life that was all that exciting or worth reporting. I had friends that were both boys and girls, none of this boys do XY and girls do XX business made any sense to me, even if the girls got to dress better. Maybe it was being raised by a single mother. You know the cant - no male influence, lack of role models, the collapse of Society.

That's pure BS and I don't buy it. I had some very good role models. My mother, of course, but there were men like Jasper's dad, my uncle, some of my teachers and Coach Reiter at Saturday morning baseball. But there were plenty of women, too, like Jasper's Mom and some of Mom's friends. You'd have to be seriously mired in sexist crap to say I didn't have any role models growing up.

That said, my early interest in bras was still there under the surface. It had sort of broadened to a general interest in girl's clothes and girls in general. So few girls of my acquaintance wore skirts that when I saw one it attracted me.

I wondered why only girls wore skirts when there were loads of pictures in history class of men in robes and tunics from way back when. Wasn't it obvious that a tunic was just a dress by another name?

But I went with the flow and kept such musings to myself. About the only time they surfaced was when Mom hung her bras up to dry in the laundry room and I got a good look at them. Whenever that happened I still wanted to know what it would be like to wear a bra. Problem was, my body wasn't cooperating. I was still the smallest boy in my class. Puberty had landed very lightly on me. I had hair on my legs and privates, but not very much. My voice had hardly changed, it was maybe a little deeper, but I still sang alto in music class. I had stalled out at five foot seven. Mom was still noticeably larger than I was.

Actually, I was almost fifteen before chance took hold of my frustrated bra fascination. Or maybe I should say Ryan Mondalmi took hold of it. He also took hold of Caitlyn Brumby's gym bag.

By this time I had confirmed my mother's prediction that I might have an interest removing a bra from a girl. Mom had recently given me a much more detailed description about sex. We were both a little bit embarrassed to do it, but as a good parent she was not going to let me plod on in ignorance and get myself - or some girl - in trouble.

A pretty confused and nebulous interest, to be sure, but there was something about the curves that the bras supported that did funny things to my insides, and Caitlyn had curves to spare. I certainly had enough boy in me to appreciate such things, but I was starting to realize that I had more than a little girl in me. It was confusing, but aren't all teenagers supposed to be confused?

It was a fine Saturday morning in early spring. I was on the ball field at the sports complex with a bunch of other guys, waiting for our parents to pick us up. I did enjoy baseball, but I wasn't good enough to play on the school team. The sports complex near us had a baseball program that emphasized the fun aspect rather than the win-at-all-costs that some school programs had. That was fine with me, I wasn't too much of a jock; I just liked baseball.

Since I lived close enough to walk I was just hanging out with the guys for the fun of it. We were wondering where Ryan had gone when he sauntered up carrying not one, but two, gym bags. Completely out of character for the macho Ryan, one of them was pink.

"Hey Ryan!" hollered Otávio, you gonna play in both leagues now?"

"Nah. They won't let you play wearing both a jockstrap and a bra."

"That's so unfair! Sex discrimination, that's what it is."

"Hey, I have a great deal of discrimination when it comes to sex, I'll have you know."

"So do the girls, which is why you ain't had no sex."

"Even with the way he fills out his jockstrap?"

"Maybe, but he sure ain't gonna be filling no bra, bro."

"He ain't got no bra to fill."

"Ah, my fine lads," smiled Ryan, "that's where you're wrong."

"Where'd you get a bra?"

"He shoplifted it. No girl is going to let him have hers."

"When I get done with them the don't have any choice."

"That can get you a long time in the can, asshole. Rape is no joking matter."

"Who said anything about rape? You guys have dirty minds."

"Not dirty enough to imagine you wearing a bra."

"Gross!"

"I don't intend to wear a bra, doofus, but I do have one in my possession. Caitlyn left her gym bag and I picked it up. Wanna see Caitlyn's bra, boys?"

"You wouldn't!"

"Sure he would!"

"She'll have your ass, Ryan."

"Maybe we can trade? I sure wouldn't mind having her ass."

"Would your jockstrap still fit if you had her ass?"

"In my hands, you asshole."

"And what are you going to do with her asshole?"

"Ain't her asshole I'm interested in. You some kind of pervert?"

"And pawing Caitlyn's bra doesn't make you a pervert?"

"It makes me a jock, unlike some of you wimps."

So saying he opened the zipper and started digging. With a shout of triumph he pulled out a blue bra and dangled it from his fingers.

"Not bad, eh?" he asked smugly. He started waving it around like a flag.

"What size is it?"

"How would I know?"

"Look at the tag, dummy."

"Jeez - they write small on these things… Is that 34D."

"Thirty-four? You'll never get that thing around you."

"Ain't going to be filling those cups, either."

"Who cares about the cups, it's how she fills them that interests me."

"Good luck with that."

"Hey, what about the panties? Do they match?"

"Let me look… Don't see nothing else blue in here. Wait a minute - white panties. Shit, they feel slippery."

"Probably Rayon or Nylon," I told him.

"How the hell would you know that?

"I do laundry at home. You need to know what fabric you're washing so you don't wreck your clothes."

"Well, la-te-da! You'll make a fine housewife someday."

"Better put that stuff back in the bag, I see your father coming up the drive."

He hastily stuffed the unmentionables back in the gym bag and set it down before getting in the car. A few minutes later I was the last one standing, so I picked up Caitlyn's gym bag and took it with me so I could give it back to her.

I could also take a close look at her bra.

 

Yeah, right. I had been wanting to try a bra for two years and never found the chance. Then one fell right into my lap - figuratively speaking - and I was pretty sure that Caitlyn and I were pretty close to the same size, at least if you didn't consider that she had real breasts and I didn't. The only problem was my mother had pretty sharp eyes.

Not that she would need x-ray vision to spot a pink gym bag along with my own green one.

"You starting a bag collection?" she asked when I got home.

"Nah. Caitlyn left her bag behind so I grabbed it to get it back to her."

"That was thoughtful."

If she only knew!

"I figured that someone would swipe it if it got left behind."

"I wouldn't doubt that for a minute. Where does this Caitlyn live?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know her that well."

"So how are you going to get it back to her if you don't know where she lives?"

"I figured I'd bring it with me to school on Monday."

"And leave the poor girl wondering if her clothes have been stolen?"

"Well…"

"So who do you know that would know her phone number?"

"Wow! My Mom is a Sherlock Holmes."

"No way. I would never smoke one of those silly pipes and I'd look really stupid in that hat he wears."

"Maybe a sombrero with a pineapple sticking out of it?"

"Kid - don't even think of becoming a milliner."

"What the heck is a milliner?"

"A person who makes hats. Good taste is an absolute requirement."

"You don't wear hats much, anyway."

"You noticed. My son is aware of his surroundings."

"Like the sarcastic mother in the room with me?"

"Yup. You think of someone you can call?"

"I could try Chip. His sister hangs out with Caitlyn's gang."

"Give it a go then."

 

Trying to track down Caitlyn was not an easy task, especially as I was looking at her gym bag all the time I was doing it. Maybe x-ray vision would have come in handy as it was obvious I was not going to be able to open it up until I was alone.

So I talked to Chip, who gave me grief about wanting to talk to his sister Leila. Then I talked to Leila who was very suspicious of the guy she barely knew wanting the address of her girlfriend. Such a suspicious world we live in! So I told her I had Caitlyn's gym bag and suspicion turned to outright accusation.

"You dirty rotten scumbag! Why did you steal my bestie's clothes? I ought…"

"Whoa! Wait a minute! I didn't steal her clothes, I want to return them for cryin' in the sink!"

"As if. Steal her things and then try to make like you're the good guy!"

"Well screw you, then. If you're going to be that way then she can wait until school on Monday and I'll leave them in the office. You have a nasty mind, Leila!"

So I hung up on her and grumped my way to the kitchen, telling Mom what had happened.

"Well, you tried, that's the important thing. I guess she'll have to wait until Monday. How about setting the table and I'll have dinner ready in a few minutes.

So I set the table, still grumpy about how Leila treated me for trying to be a nice guy. Mom jollied me out of my mood while we ate, so when we finished the dishes we settled down to watch a movie together. We haven't been able to do that much lately as we both have been pretty busy - me with schoolwork and mom with work and the occasional date.

It still seems weird to have a Mom who is dating. Sure, Dad left a long time ago so I suppose she deserves someone to enjoy life with. We had just gotten to the exciting part when the doorbell rang. That didn't happen too often, so I went and answered it while Mom paused the movie.

"Caitlyn!" I cried when I opened the door. I was trying to get ahold of you but Leila was being a bitch. Oops!'

I didn't see her mother standing there at first.

"Oh, hi Mrs Brumby."

"Mom, this is Lucas, the one Leila says found my gym bag."

Gee - she didn't sound mad.

"I did, it's up in my room for safekeeping. Please come in."

"Thanks."

So we did the introduction thing again with Mom and I took Caitlin upstairs to return her bag while Mom and Mrs Brumby talked.

"Your mom isn't going to freak about you being alone with a girl in your bedroom?"

"I don't know. You're the first girl I've had in my bedroom unless you count my three-year-old niece."

"No 'hands visible and feet on the floor' stuff?"

"I think she's be more worried about missing clothing or stuff like that. You aren't planning to become a stripper in the next ten minutes, are you?

"You should be so lucky."

"I think we ought to know each other a little bit better before we think about things like that. Besides, we came up here to give you your gym bag back."

"Yeah. Just how did you end up with my bag?"

"Uh, someone else said he found it."

"Which is bullshit. He stole it from in front of Coach Barros' office while she was talking to me. No way I just lost it."

"I'm not surprised considering who had it."

"You're trying to be nice and not naming names. I know it was that bastard Ryan Mondalmi who swiped it. One of my girlfriends saw him with it."

"Jeez - I know he's a macho idiot, but I didn't think he would take a girl's stuff."

"He didn't…?" She kind of ran out of words.

"Yeah, he did."

"What did he do with my stuff?"

"Uh, well he… kinda took out some of your… well…" My turn to run out of words.

"He actually handled my bra, didn't he?"

"And your panties."

"Gross! Yuccch!"

"I know. If its any comfort, he's been known to use other guy's jockstraps as a slingshot."

"I'm never going to wear that bra again. Give me my bag!"

So I did and she opened it up and took out her bra. With a look of disgust she wadded it up and tossed it in my garbage can. Her panties quickly followed.

"My Mom says bras are pretty expensive. You sure you want to do that?"

"I'm never going to wear a bra that that slime Ryan was handling. It would feel like his ugly paws were holding on to my breasts every time I put it on. No way!"

"Gross! If you're sure, then we better go back downstairs or our folks will wonder what we're doing in my bedroom."

"When we get to know each other better then we'll see what happens. I'll give you my mobile number."

"Cool!"

And that's how I got my very own bra.

Confusion

Caitlyn and her Mom went home, Caitlyn grinning from ear-to-ear because she left her bra and panties in my room and knew that I couldn't tell anybody about it. I have to admit I was thoroughly distracted as we watched the rest of the movie.

"You seem restless," Mom observed when the credits started to roll.

"Yeah. Caitlyn and I were talking and I'm confused."

"What? A teenage boy talking to a teenage girl and he's confused? How shocking!"

"Mooooom!"

"Want to talk about it?"

"I dunno."

"You could maybe do a dramatic presentation, like Charades?"

"Mooooom!"

"Just a thought."

"It might get to be R rated, or maybe even X."

"Now wait a darn minute! Just what were you two doing up there?"

"All 4 feet were on the floor and our hands visible at all times."

"Yeah, but just where were your hands?"

"On the ends of our arms, of course."

"Smartass!"

Seriously, Mom. Let me tell you what happened."

So I told her. She is a good listener and when I got done she gave me a big hug.

"I can see why you're confused. What did you think about the way Ryan acted?"

"I thought it was lousy. Why do some guys have to be that way about girls?"

"If I knew that answer I'd be rich. I'd be selling books and videos to every woman on the planet."

"If you figure it out, can I get a new car for my eighteenth birthday? A Ferrari maybe?"

"I think I'd go for a limo with a good looking chauffeur."

"Can I borrow it for the Prom?"

"Of course, as long as your date doesn't leave her bra or panties in the back seat."

"Nah, I've already got a set."

"And do you have any plans for them?"

"Uh…"

"Cat got your tongue?"

"We don't have a cat."

"But you do have a bra. A fairly substantial one, since guys your age always think bigger is better."

"Mooooom!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed you have been very interested in bras for the past little while. Not that that isn't normal for a teenage boy. So are you interested in the bra or what's in the bra that interests you most?"

"Uh… Maybe both?"

"I don't think very many men would be able to admit that, especially to their mothers. I'm proud you can be honest about something that screws up so many people.

"You noticed?"

"I know my son. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Did you know your uncle Sander used to sneak my clothes when we were kids?"

"He did?"

"It was OK until he got big enough to stretch out my panties, and I told him to buy his own. Talk about having a red face!"

"Uncle Sander?"

"Yup. Him and a lot of other men. So now you have your girlfriend's bra what are you going to do with it?"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"You could do worse. I like her mother."

"Well, I like her but I don't really know her."

"Did you get her phone number?"

"Yeah."

"Fast worker, eh? So give her a call and invite her to the movies or something."

"Mooooom!"

"OK, enough of this silliness. Go on upstairs and try on your bra, although I never understood why Sander or any man would want to wear a bra."

"Mooooom!"

Satisfaction

I went up to my room one confused kid. My mother had - not for the first time! - left me dazed with how she could read me and my deepest secrets. All this time I had thought I had been able to cover up my interest in girl's bras. I tried to be careful not to stare, not to be a pig and make any girl nervous, but Mom knew! Not only did she know, but she wasn't pissed. And my own Uncle Sander had done the same thing!

Then she goes and tells me straight out that I should take Caitlyn on a date! Up until a few minutes ago she had told me that I had to be at least sixteen before I could start dating.

Not only that, but she lets me know it's OK if I want to try on Caitlyn's bra. What was going on here? Was I dreaming or maybe losing my mind?

So I'll answer the easy question first. A few days later I learned that no, I couldn't go on a date by myself until I was sixteen, but going out with a group was OK. Then I got the I trust you lecture. All I had to do was get up the nerve to actually ask Caitlyn, or any other girl, for a date.

The harder question was should I actually try on the bra? Sure, I had been curious for a long time, but to actually do it? I dithered while I got ready for bed, and finally got under the covers, leaving the bra where it sat in the wastebasket.

That lasted maybe five minutes. I swear I could hear the thing calling to me, singing a siren song and pleading with me to put it on. I threw off the covers, skinned off my PJ tops and padded barefoot over to my desk. There it was, powder blue and waiting. I picked it up and felt it; it was some smooth, shiny fabric that felt really good. There was lace on the shoulder straps and a silly little bow where the cups met in front. Sure enough, it was my favorite kind, with the oval or ellipse at the back where the straps were.

I looked at it, wondering if I could get the snaps done up behind my back. I knew it would fit, since I took a size 34 shirt and Ryan had told us it was a size 34 bra. I suppose any real woman reading this would laugh at me, but I just put my arms through the straps and pulled it over my head. For a while I thought I was the first one to invent the sports bra - you know, the kind with no hooks - but I was a rather naive teenager

It was certainly stretchy enough that it wasn't a problem. A little wiggling and tugging at the back of the band to get it untwisted and I was finally wearing a bra.

I really don't know what I was expecting, all my thought had gone into just looking at bras and imagining what they would be like. Sometimes I had wondered what it would be like to have breasts and really need a bra, but I never really thought about what I would do if I actually got ahold of one.

About all I can say is that it felt right. It felt comfortable. I had to go into the bathroom and see what I looked like. The first thing I saw was that the cups were just hanging there and flopping. Not surprising since Caitlyn had D cup breasts. I knew from looking online that meant her breasts were four inches larger than her chest.

Now four inches isn't much for a guy to boast about when he measures the body part that most guys want to measure, but for a girl - it's certainly impressive. Anyone who has looked at Caitlyn can vouch for that.

Look at it this way - as an oval lover I knew that the human torso is pretty much an oval, with a 3:1 width to depth ratio, at least according to the all-knowing Internet. I certainly knew the formula for calculating the circumference of an oval. (It's complicated, so just take my word for it, OK?) So a 34 inch bra band would means a roughly 5.1 inch depth and about a 15.3 inch width.

Got that so far? Please don't ask me why I went to so much trouble to make these calculations, I was (and still am) a bit of a nerd. Now, if you add four inches of breast to the depth you end up with 8.5 x 15.3.

Now we know the axes, it's easy to find the area of the oval. The area = π times the minor axis radius times the major axis radius, if you want to know. After all, ovals are where this whole thing started. That ends up with an area of 61.28 for the band and 102.14 around the breasts. In other words, there's almost twice as much girl at her breasts if she has D cup breasts.

That's something a guy will notice.

My lack of D cup breasts to put in my new bra was also pretty noticeable, the fabric just sort of hung there. So I experimented, and after a while I found it takes a whole lot of socks to fill those cups and they look lumpy. But the bra still felt good on my body, so I put on my PJ tops and got into bed once more.

Surprisingly, I slept soundly and woke to the new and pleasant feeling of still wearing my bra. I liked the feeling so much that I didn't want to take it off, so I threw caution to the winds and left it on; after all Mom did know I wanted to wear it and didn't seem too upset. I did remove the stuffing in the cups.

I wore a really loose shirt with a high neckline and couldn't see anything through the fabric. I wore it the rest of the day and it didn't take long before I mostly stopped noticing it. Every so often got a delicious feeling when I realized I was wearing a bra. Life was good.

As I went upstairs to bed, Mom called out "Don't forget to put your bra in the hamper. You don't want to have it get all smelly. You can hand wash it sometime during the week if you want to wear it again."

"Uh… OK, Mom."

"Sleep tight, honey."

How do mothers know this kind of thing?

Caitlyn's Revenge

Friday after school I finally decided to hand-wash my bra and hang it up in the laundry room. I eventually figured why not? since Mom had even told me to do it. It still felt weird to have her knowing her son was wearing a bra, but she didn't say a word about it.

Nothing much interesting happened until baseball practice on Saturday. The practice was nothing spectacular, but the real action happened while we hung out after, waiting for our rides. Ryan Mondalmi was doing his usual boasting when Caitlyn came over and lit into him.

"Yo slimeball!" she hurled at him. "Coach Barros showed me the video from last week. Bet you were too stupid to realize they have security cameras in this place, weren't you?"

Ryan sort of gobbled something that wasn't too clear.

"Yeah! You didn't, did you? There are some nice pictures of a big stupid oaf picking up my gym bag. That big stupid oaf was you, you big stupid oaf. You do know that the cops would call that misdemeanor theft, right? As in perp walk, mug shots and your name in the paper for something besides playing with your balls.

"Oh! Sorry - I meant playing with baseballs. I have a feeling your balls are so small that it would take an electron microscope to find them. You know, those scientific instruments that they use to look at atoms and molecules and things too small to see with your naked eye."

By now she had everybody's attention. Big time!

"Just what did you think you would do with my clothes, big man? Did you want to wear them, maybe?" Dramatic pause. "Nah, you're too big to fit anything I wear." Another dramatic pause. "Oh wait! Maybe you could wear my panties since I have big hips and we have already established you have microballs. Do you realize that you could have gone out and bought your own panties, even gotten frilly panties in some nice pastel colors and not have to take the chance of spending a night in a cage."

Ryan's face had long passed pastel and was bright red. He still couldn't find much to say.

"I bet you didn't realize there are cameras out here, either. Like the ones that are filming us right this second. Thanks to you, pervert, everybody knows I was going to wear a blue bra after playing, but I had to go home in my sweaty sports bra since you were waving mine around like a signal flag. Did you get a microboner while you were fondling my bra? I couldn't tell from the film. What I could tell was you were trying to read the label on my bra. You can read, can't you?"

Silence.

"I guess not, you would have to wait to take it home so Mommy could read it to you, you illiterate creep." Another dramatic pause. That girl had some really good timing. "I guess that wouldn't work since you stuffed it back into my bag after you fondled my panties. Do you need to fondle lady's panties to get yourself revved up, maybe?"

By now several of the girls had come over to watch, along with just about everyone still there. Caitlyn was still on a roll and no one wanted to stop her.

"If I could offer you some advice, you'd be better off fondling some poor girl's panties in someplace less public. I can't imagine how you'd get any girl to take them off near you, let alone give them to you like the way a normal guy would do it. I guess you aren't normal, are you?"

"C-C-Caitlyn…"

Finally, Ryan broke his silence, for all the good it did him.

"At least there was one guy here who had the common decency to make sure my gym bag got back to me. Lucas here went to a lot of trouble to find me so I could get my things back, and I bet he didn't go pawing through them or waving them around on the street corners."

Well, not on the street corners, anyway.

"I'm going to be nice to you, slimeball. Heaven knows why I should, but I'm not going to prosecute. I'm going to be even nicer to Lucas since he's a gentleman, unlike some I could mention. Come on, Lucas, let's stroll off into the sunset together and leave this looser to sulk. If you play your cards right I just might let you do a little reading of some small print."

So saying, she took my arm and we walked away.

Revelation

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, will you?" I said, cautiously.

"Don't get on my bad side, OK."

"That's a promise! Of course I don't think you have a bad side."

"Flatterer."

"I try. You ever think of doing improv?"

"Nope. I spent all week rehearsing once Coach told me who swiped my bag."

"Then maybe a scriptwriter."

"I do like to write."

"And perform. I was tempted to shout 'Bravo!' a few times but I didn't want to distract you."

"Brava is the female version."

"Then Brava to you. Uh, where are we going?"

"I don't know. I just know a good exit line when I hear it."

"I suppose we could go to my place, it's walking distance."

"Sounds good to me. I hope I didn't embarrass you, Luke."

"Nah! If anything the guys are going to be jealous as hell."

"I suppose so. I don't usually walk off with random guys as a rule, but then you're hardly random."

"Thanks. Want to stay for lunch?"

"Sure. Just let me call my Dad and tell them where I am. I was going to take the bus home."

 

"Hi, Mom!" I hollered as I came in the front door. "I brought company with me."

"Oi vey!" came the reply from the kitchen."

"Where did that come from, we're not Jewish?" I asked as we joined her there.

"I spend too much time watching Broad City, I guess."

"Maybe we need to limit your TV time, Mom. Bad influences and all that."

"Oh, it's Caitlyn. That's fast work, Lucas."

Caitlyn was looking lost.

"Mom was telling me I need to ask you out for a date once you left the other night, even though I'm not allowed to date until I'm sixteen."

"What?"

"My Mom has good taste, but she can be pushy."

"Is this a date?"

No, I just invited a friend over to visit. You should have seen her, Mom! She took that slimeball Ryan apart in front of everybody. That's the guy who stole her gym bag."

"Was there much blood? I hope you did it outdoors so they can use a hose to clean up."

"Oi vey!" cried Caitlyn.

"You stole that from my Mom."

"Are you two always this crazy?" she asked.

"Nope. We save it until we have an audience, Caitlyn." My mother answered. "If we're alone this smartass kid can out-think me half the time. He does keep it under control in front of potential girlfriends."

"Mooooom! She's not my girlfriend."

"I said 'potential,' didn't I? She gets to decide if she wants to be a girlfriend."

"Is there a time limit? Can I call a friend like on that TV show? And what's the prize?"

"That would be me, but I only have a million dollar smile."

"Not to change the subject, but where's your bathroom?"

"Down the hall just past the laundry room."

"I'll be back."

"I like that girl!" Mom said once she was gone.

"I kind of like her, too."

"Feel free to invite her over any time."

"I like that idea."

We were interrupted as Caitlyn came back.

"All right already, Luke. Is that my bra I see hanging in your laundry room?"

Oops. I hadn't thought of that when I invited her over.

"I suppose it was your bra at one time," Mom said.

Mom was enjoying this far too much!

"So why is it hanging in your laundry room?"

"Because I washed it?"

Mom was really enjoying this.

"And why did you wash it? I mean it was actually you who washed my former bra?"

"Because a certain slimeball had contaminated it and then it ended up in my garbage can."

"I may have to become a dentist, this is like pulling teeth. So why did you think it needed washing?"

"Mom told me it was an expensive bra. It seemed like a waste to just throw it out. We could give it to the Goodwill or some needy orphan."

"Can I watch when you give a bra to some strange girl that's built like me? It ought to be interesting. I could maybe call an ambulance when she decks you."

"I knew you were a kind person."

"And you're some kind of nut. Do you actually know the proper way to wash a bra?"

"Hey! I do laundry all the time. In a mesh bag, gentle cycle, cool water, never in the dryer. I do Mom's bras sometimes."

"He actually does, Caitlyn. I showed him how a while back when he bled all over my bra before I went out with some friends."

"Is there something stronger than oi vey that I can say here? This is one seriously weird conversation. So OK, tell me just why you were bleeding all over your mother's bra, Lucas."

"Well, it was this way…"

So I told her all about it with Mom providing the color commentary.

"So did you get the bra clean?"

"He did. I wore it until it wore out sometime last year."

"How in the world did I end up talking about bras with a boy?"

"I suppose it's better than talking about jockstraps, although I suppose they're both support garments."

"Enough!" cried Mom. "Time to change the subject. What are we going to do for lunch?"

So we helped Mom get lunch ready and found other things to talk about. Caitlyn and I spent an enjoyable afternoon and the subject of bras did not come up again. She stayed for dinner and we took her home, so I got to meet her parents. In fact, we stayed more than an hour just talking together, her folks have a way of including everyone in the conversation.

Mom Knows

From then on, Caitlyn and I hung out together quite a bit. We went to each other's ball games and she would often come home with me after ball practice and stay until dinner - or sometimes later. As Mom had predicted, I was interested in girls for reasons my ten-year-old self would not have understood.

We studied together, and did actually study. We talked sports, she was an avid baseball player so we had that in common. Her family were dedicated campers, something Mom and I had never done. In other words, a friendship was developing.

The only downside was that instead of being able to put on my bra after baseball practice, I had to wait until bedtime if I was hanging out with Caitlyn. I did wear it to bed every night because I just plain liked wearing it. I made sure to hand wash it on Friday mornings so it had time to dry before bedtime. Mom just gave me a funny look when I did, but didn't say anything much.

This went on for a few weeks until spring break arrived. That Friday at dinner Mom uttered the words every kid never wants to hear: We need to talk.

With the usual guilty conscience of a fifteen year old boy, I tried to think of what I had done to get in trouble. I came up blank, but Mom is good at reading me.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Lucas. Unusual maybe, but certainly not wrong."

"Uh, OK?"

"You've watched the news shows with me fairly often, so you know what is going on in the world, right?"

"Different people are killing other people than got killed last week. The politicians are being idiots, climate change will kill us all, the Democrats will bankrupt the country, the Republicans hate women, gays, trans and the Federal budget. Is that enough?"

"More than enough. So you know about transgendered people, then."

"A little bit. Maybe I should know more, since you know I like wearing a bra."

"Since you've been washing it regularly, I figured you must like it. Funny - when I was a girl I couldn’t wait to get my first bra so I could be a big girl. I never thought I would be talking to my son about his first bra, but there it is."

"I know its weird, but I really like it. I'm not hurting anyone so I don't know why anyone should care if my own mother doesn't"

"I wouldn't say I don't care, but I do want to be sure of what's going on. You've never taken after your father and tried to be a manly man - something I am very grateful for - but you seem to be comfortable with both boys and girls. You like your hair long and I've noticed you have been reading my so-called women's magazines.

"Just remember there's no right answer to this question: Is it that you think you're really a girl or do you just like the clothes - or the bra in this case. "

"I don't think I want to be a girl; I like being a boy OK and, well, I like Caitlyn. Boy-girl kind of like."

"That's honest. How far do you want to go? I know she left her panties, are you wearing them?"

"No, they're too big."

"Only because they're too big, or would you wear panties if you had them? How about dresses and skirts? High heels?"

"Sometimes I think about it when I'm daydreaming, but since I don't have anything like that I haven't tried."

"They may kick me out of the PTA for this, but would you want to try spending break week as a girl?"

"What!"

"Just what I said. You could try out living as a girl and see if it's something you really want to do. It's a way to find out if your daydreams are just daydreams or something more substantial. I've tried not to say anything about it, but you really do have the looks to do it."

"You really think so?

"We can only try. Are you interested?"

"Sure. I can't believe…"

"Your mother is well aware of how her child is feeling. Daughter or son, I still love you. If by the end of the week you still think you want to be wearing a bra then we can find out where there's a gender-type doctor we can talk to."

"Doctor?"

"Shrink. Someone who knows more than we do about the subject. Now, there's something you need to know."

"OK, what?"

"A girl your age needs more than one bra, and ones that fit properly. Would you be too embarrassed to go shopping for a few training bras tomorrow? And panties that fit, of course. That way you can wear clean underwear all week during the break, as least when you're around the house."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. We'll go shopping a ways away so there's less chance of meeting anyone you know."

"Wow! That's crazy!"

"And my son wanting to wear a bra isn't?"

"When you put it that way…"

"How well I remember. When I was a girl I didn't have a clue. Your grandma explained about how my body would change as I grew up, but I think she did it too early because I just didn't understand. I was nine when my best friend started to develop early, and she was very excited to tell me she was wearing a bra one day. We were walking down the hall that first day she wore it and these two boys came up behind us and tried to snap our bra straps.

"I heard the snap on Lisa's bra just as I felt something on my back. Of course I wasn't wearing a bra and the guy was frustrated. Lisa turned around and slapped her guy on the face and left a big red splotch on his cheek. The guy behind me didn't know what to do and just stood there. Lisa growled 'Try that again and you'll never need a jockstrap again' or something like that.

"Lisa actually had to explain what happened, I was clueless. When I told my mother about it she started laughing her head off. She said 'Maybe it's time to get you a training bra' and the next weekend she took me off to her favorite lingerie shop. My mother didn't really like malls and we seldom went into them. I don't suppose anyone's tried to snap your bra strap, though."

"Mooooom!"

"Actually, it turned out I was ready to start wearing a bra, but hadn't realized it. You know about cup sizes?"

"Jeez Mom. Every boy knows about cup sizes."

"So they do, I suppose. Anyway, I was almost an A cup but not quite. Since my mother took me to a specialty shop the lady there showed us how to use a pair of enhancers to finish filling the cup. Wiggly, jelly kind of blobs that could make your breasts look bigger. I was utterly embarrassed, but …"

"But what?" I asked.

"The green-eyed monster. I was jealous of Lisa because she was growing up faster than I was, once the whole thing clicked in my mind. With those enhancers I was able to catch up with her. I assume you've been stuffing the cups like any normal teenage girl would do. You seem to have skipped over the beginning of the alphabet and grown up overnight."

"Mooooom!"

"You should start with an A cup, you don't need to compete with Caitlyn."

"As if I could. She told me sometimes she wishes she wasn't so big."

"Really? She was comfortable talking about her cup size with a boy?"

"She was giving me grief about washing her bra. She thought it was funny that I knew how to do it the right way. We talk about a lot of things that I guess most boys wouldn't be interested in."

"I'm not going to ask! Do you think she knows you're wearing her bra?"

"I don't know. She's awful smart, maybe even smarter than me. Maybe that's why she feels comfortable talking about girl stuff with me. She hasn't said anything, though."

"And you actually like wearing a bra."

"It just feels good. It feels right!"

Well then, if you were born my genetic daughter I would expect you would grow into maybe a B cup, like most of the women in my family. You're lucky, you get to choose."

That's when Mom got a real funny look on her face, the kind she gets when she's planning something she doesn't want me to know about. I was about to say something when she came back from wherever she went.

"Hold on a minute, Lucas. I just remembered something that I have to do right away."

She pulled out her phone and tapped away for a little while, then she had a big smile on her face as she pushed a button on the screen and put her phone away.

"Sorry about that, but I just made the deadline. Now where were we?"

"Picking a cup size. I suppose it's best to start small and see if I like it."

"Good decision. What say we go out for breakfast and then you can have your first bra fitting.."

"Do I really need to? I know I'm a 34, my bra fits comfortably, even if the cups are kinda floppy."

"Do you have red lines on your body when you take it off?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Then it sounds like the band is the right size. Once you have proper underwear we can talk about dresses and such. Completely up to you if you want to. You may be able to wear some of my old stuff if the old lady fashions don't gross you out. I never throw anything out."

"I know. Someday you'll lose ten pounds and they'll fit again."

"Five pounds, you little twerp!

"If you say so. You're the best, Mom."

"And don't I know it. Now spend some time with the Great God Google and learn about transgendered people, but be prepared for a lot of porn. I didn't appreciate a lot of what I found on the subject. I don't understand why so many men want to post pictures with lacy bras, hairy bodies and dangling participles."

"Dangling participles, is it? How literary."

"Be good, try to find some reasonable stuff once you've investigated the porn."

"Mooooom!"

Decision Time

Sunday morning. I suppose some folks would be getting dressed for church, but that's not what happened in our house. Mom hasn't got much use for religion. When I noticed that people like my buddy Jasper went to church on Sunday and we didn't I asked Mom why. I was pretty young then, so she just said something like she didn't believe in god.

That satisfied me until I was a bit older, but eventually I was curious as to why she wasn't a believer. This was a difficult question to answer, not so much as to theology, but because she didn't want to run down my dad. I had seen him maybe three times since I was old enough to remember; he had written us out of his life. Even so, she was determined not to say bad things about him.

While they were still married they did go to church, but a while after I was born, dad started cheating on her with a woman from the church. He didn't hide it very well, so Mom went and talked to the pastor. To her dismay, the pastor started quoting verses about wives obeying their husbands and being tolerant. Basically, he tried to sweep it under the rug. Mom hasn't been to church since.

That's when I acquired a very personal definition of the word hypocrisy. It also helped me to understand why Mom was able to handle my thinking about being a girl with such grace. She never got infected by fundamentalist BS I had to cope with in later life.

Be that as it may, Sunday morning I woke up, or maybe it would be more accurate that I stopped trying to sleep. I kept waking up and thinking about going shopping for a bra. With my mother.

How weird was that?

After a few weeks wearing Caitlyn's cast-off I knew I liked wearing it, even if it tended to slip up while I slept and it took half my underwear drawer to fill the cups. It would be nice to have one that fit my body.

That wasn't what kept waking me up, though. It was the question Mom asked last night: Do you think you're really a girl or do you just like the clothes?

I had been asking myself the same question, even if not so clearly or directly. I knew that normal boys didn't want to wear bras. I also knew from the Great God Google - no relation to the one from the church we don't go to - told me that there were plenty of men who liked to wear women's clothes. If I decided I wanted to try dressing up in more than a bra I would certainly want to look good.

But did I want to? Part of me said YES! but part of me was just plain scared. I knew that if I could wear Caitlyn's bra I wasn't too big to be convincing. In fact, more than once strangers had thought I was a girl without me doing anything out of the ordinary.

My hair was about shoulder length, not too unusual for the boys in my school. Some guys had brush cuts, some had hair down to their ass - I was in the middle range. My hair is also red, which does make me stand out. I have steadfastly resisted getting hung with the nickname 'Red,' but people still tried. Would that make it more obvious who I was if I was actually trying to look like a girl?

Could I do it? Did I want to try? I was interrupted by a knock on my bedroom door. A fast spurt of guilt as I was still wearing my stuffed bra, but I threw caution to the winds and said "Come in, Mom."

She came in and grinned. "I suppose that answers my question, although Caitlyn looks better with big breasts than you do."

"Yeah."

"Should we try to make you look more like a girl so you won't look out of place in the lingerie section?"

"I guess that makes sense."

"I'm not going to examine that statement too closely. Get dressed - I suppose a pair of jeans wouldn't be out of place on a girl your age, that way we don't have to worry about shaving your legs. You can wear a pair of my socks and one of my old blouses but most of your T-shirts wouldn't help the illusion one bit."

"Right."

"I'll see what I can come up with. Then we can play with your hair and nails. No makeup, though. Believe me, you'll appreciate that before the day is through."

"Nails?"

"We'll paint our nails with matching color. Not something every boy would do, eh?"

"Not anyone I know."

"Maybe you need a wider circle of friends," she said, but she left before I could answer.

So I washed my face, got dressed, combed my hair and then Mom was back. She had a soft, dark gray sweater that would fit me pretty loosely. I put it on and she started brushing my hair. She finally settled for pigtails, a style no boy would wear. Then she started on my eyebrows.

"Ouch! Why did you do that?"

"I need to clean up your eyebrows. Just a few stray hairs over your nose. Nobody would notice them on a boy, but on a girl - people will whip out their magnifying glass and count them."

"That's weird."

"Fashion is weird. Hold still."

The nails were more than I bargained for. I do keep my nails trimmed, but apparently what is OK for a boy just won't do for a girl. She started filing and squishing my cuticles, then painted them a pearly pink. It smelled like the chemistry lab in my room before she was done. While my nails dried she painted hers. Finally we were ready, and this is what I looked like. Mom went and took this picture before I was ready, but I have to admit I did look like a girl.

So, having been properly brushed and painted, we went downstairs. Mom picked up her purse from the table by the door, then handed one to me, too.

"Here - put your wallet and whatever is in your pockets in this purse. That's how girls do it"

"OK."

She started out the door when I asked "Hey! Where did that box come from?"

"Amazon. Says so right on the box."

"Mooooom!"

"It came early this morning while you were lazing in bed."

"So what is it?" I asked.

"A surprise."

"Mooooom!"

"I'll tell you later when the time is right."

And that was all I could get out of her.

 

I may have looked a lot like a girl, but I didn't feel any different. I know in a lot of the stories I've read the first time a boy goes out the door dressed like a girl he is afraid or upset or freezes up. I just got in the car with Mom and we went on our way. Of course I knew Jasper was at church and wouldn't be able to see me, but that wasn't really on my mind.

As we drove, we dithered about where we should go for breakfast. Or should we call it brunch, since by the time we left it was almost eleven. I wanted bacon, Mom wanted something with veggies. I didn’t want fancy, but it should be someplace better than McDonalds. Actually, we both liked McDonalds breakfasts, but since it was after 10:30 we were too late. We finally settled on the Golden Corral, where I could pig out on bacon and Mom could have a veggie omelet.

Funny thing - it wasn't until I was filling my plate that I noticed I had painted nails and it hit me that people really would think I was a girl. I tried to look around to see if anyone was upset, but everybody was far more interested in the food than in me. All except one guy my own age, and he seemed to be checking me out. Seriously. I know because I've done the same thing with a good-looking girl. Did that mean he thought I was a good-looking girl?

Very strange.

I ignored him and concentrated on breakfast. It was after noon before we were done. How did it get to be that late when I got up early? I know the jokes about women taking too much time to get ready, but really!

We finally got to the mall, which is a story in itself. Mom is not a mall person. To hear her tell it the prices are inflated and most of what they sell was stuff that no sane person would want. If you haven't guessed, Mom isn't into high fashion.

Wait a minute! If we were at the mall to buy me a training bra, did that mean I wasn't sane?

That was a hard one to answer.

We scored a great parking space right next to the doors, always a good omen. Once inside I gawked at all the stores, I didn't get to see places like this too often. Mom consulted the directory and we set off. I was busy gawking when Mom came to a sudden halt. I didn't and bounced right off of her. Embarrassing.

We were in front of Claire's. I suppose I have to explain a bit. Mom is an earring freak. She has like five racks of earrings in her bedroom and she's worn every pair there. What brought her to a state of arrested motion was the earring display at Claire's. This wasn't the first time I had to wait while she examined every darn pair in the place.

But it was the first time her daughter waited for her. I looked at the collection from a new point-of-view. If I could wear a bra, why not earrings?

Because I didn't have pierced ears. Boys don't wear earrings, right?

Only in ancient history. Maybe a quarter of the boys in my school had pierced ears and wore earrings. Just like long hair, things have changed and you can't be so free with the stereotypes. By the time I had worked this out, Mom had maybe five pairs of earrings in her hands.

"Hey Mom, is it OK if I get these?" I asked. There was a pair on the starter rack that had shiny green stones that I really liked.

"You want to get your ears pierced?"

"All the girls are doing it, Mom." I said, trying for wide-eyed innocence. I don't think it worked.

"I suppose you're old enough to decide. You do know it's addictive?"

"One look at your bedroom answers that. Sure."

"Then let's do it, daughter."

So they held a gun to my head and I had pierced ears. They itched, but I was happy.

The next stop was one of those big-name stores that are at the end of the mall. It was easy enough to find the girl's section, after all they have those big signs hanging from the ceiling.

As much as I have always had a fascination with bras, I had never been deep in the lingerie section before. I hadn't even looked too hard because I was always in the store with someone like my Mom and didn't want anyone to know what I was thinking. My poor heart went pitter-patter at the sight of racks of bras hanging right there in the open. This time I was supposed to be there and I was supposed to pick out a bra.

I hadn't a clue. Just how was I supposed to know what to pick. Mom came to my rescue.

"You need a couple of everyday, plain white bras for sure, then I'd pick out one fancy one. You know, colors and lace and such. Don't worry, you can't really make a wrong choice. The best choice for the plain ones is from the boxed bras. You can't go wrong with Playtex for comfort when you're wearing it all day."

So I picked out two boxes that said 34A and put them in the cart. The fancy one was a lot harder. I was glad they were sorted by size, one less thing to have to figure out. I dithered. Some were very pretty but looked awful flimsy. I guess that they were supposed to be the sexy ones, but I was just starting to appreciate sexy in a girl. I figured I ought to find something that wouldn't wear out too fast.

Then I realized I wasn't going to be wearing my bras so much that they would wear out, so I picked one with a bit of lace and a powder blue like the one I got from Caitlyn. Go with what you know, right?

While I was making my selection, Mom was over in the panty aisle and came back with a package of twelve panties in assorted colors.

"Do I really need that many?" I asked.

"Maybe not, but six won't last all vacation so I got the twelve pack. Why don't you find a pair of panties that go with your pretty bra, then you can try them on and be sure they fit properly."

"Try them on?"

"Of course. You don't want to buy something that doesn't fit, they won't let you return it. Some state law or something."

"What the law about a guy in the girl's changing rooms?"

"Guy? What guy? All I see is my daughter."

"Mooooom!"

What else could I do? We walked over to the changing booths and mom opened her purse and handed me a small package.

"We talked about these last night, so I ordered a pair from Amazon. Now I bet you can guess what's in the box. I'm sure you can figure out what to do with them. I won't embarrass you. See if the bras fit; if they do then take the tags off one of them so we can pay and wear it when you come out.

"Just remember you'll have to adjust the straps until it feels comfortable and for heaven's sake don't make the band too tight or you'll regret it. You should be able to get your finger under the bra band without too much trouble."

"Yes, Mom."

"Well, at least you aren't whining 'Mooooom!' at me."

Everything fit. Her mystery package contained a pair of small enhancers that fit nicely into the bra cups. The gave me just a little bit of shape and looked natural when I put the sweater back on.

Nice!

I thought we were done, but Mom had other ideas. I got to pick out a nightgown and a dress. Mom explained that since I didn't really have any hips it would be easier to wear a dress than a skirt. By this time I was really getting into being a daughter and was perfectly happy to buy clothes that were purely girly. I didn't quite have the nerve to wear the dress in public, though.

We wandered around the mall for a while, then decided to see a movie. Afterward we went out for dinner. Other than itchy ears, it was a very nice day. Having Mom treat me like her daughter was a bit strange at first, but it soon became normal.

A funny thing happened on the way home. When I strapped on my seatbelt, the shoulder strap settled right between my brand-new breasts, outlining them very clearly. Sure, they were small, but they looked like real breasts, right there on my body. Looking down, I was able to see the ellipse of my breasts quite clearly. Ellipses on both front and back - what more could a girl want? My first day as a girl was a complete success.

Of Course It Isn't That Easy!

After all the excitement the day before, I slept in. Being a Monday, Mom had to go to work so I was home alone. As soon as I got out from under the covers I realized I was wearing a nightgown and not my pajamas. That brought back what happened the day before and I just had to smile. I hadn't been so sure when Mom suggested I could try being a girl over the vacation, but I had certainly enjoyed being Mom's daughter yesterday.

And I could be her daughter all day today if I wanted.

I wanted. I took care of the bathroom stuff, hung my nightgown on the hook in the closet on top of my pajamas and took my dress off the hanger. I opened my dresser drawer and took out a pair of blue panties that would go with my blue bra. The cotton panties didn't feel all that much different than my Y-fronts, but were made of a lot lighter material.

Having overheard girls talk about the dreaded VPL I realized that was why. Actually, as a guy I rather liked seeing the outline of a girl's panties, but looking in the mirror there was the outline of something that shouldn't be there on a girl. I had no idea what to do about that.

So I put on my dress to cover it up and brushed my hair into the pigtails I wore yesterday. Looking in the mirror I was impressed by the change once again, that is until I saw my legs. I didn't have much hair on my legs but I did have some. I certainly knew that girls shaved their legs and realized that if I was going to look like a girl I had to shave mine.

So off came the clothes and back to the bathroom. I didn't have a razor of my own - no need to shave yet - so I hoped Mom wouldn't be too upset if I used hers. I was pretty clumsy but eventually got rid of what hair was there. I only cut myself once, and fortunately it was high enough on my leg that the dress would cover it.

Watching the blood drip down my leg was gross, though.

With that done I had a problem - what to put on my feet? Yesterday my sneakers were fine with my jeans, but they just didn't look right with the dress. We never thought about shoes when we were shopping. I finally decided my bedroom slippers were the least bad choice, so I just kept them on my feet.

With all that done I was getting hungry, so I went to the kitchen and had a bowl of cereal. Part of me loved the feel of the dress brushing my legs but another part of me was not too happy with the breezes that blew up my skirt. I played a game or two on my phone while I ate, but once I was done I wondered what to do. What do girls do when they're home alone?

Well, I could ask Caitlyn, I just didn't have to tell her why I wanted to know. So I called her up and we talked for a few minutes, then she invited me to come over and hang out at her place.

Conflicted again! I wanted to go but I wanted to stay in my new dress. Can't do both so I stammered a bit and then told her I'd be over as soon as I got dressed.

I didn't lie to her now, did I?

Off came the dress once more, out came the enhancers and back into their little case. Off came my bra. I decided that I could leave my panties on, Caitlyn and I had not approached the stage where she would be able to tell. Un-braid the hair, brush it into a pony tail. On with the jeans and T-shirt. That felt different with shaved legs, not bad at all! Sneaks on my feet and I was on my bike and on my way. Oh yeah, leaving a note for Mom to tell her where I had gone.

The hug I got from Caitlyn made it worth all the effort.

"You got your ears pierced!"

"Yeah. Mom stopped at Claire's for more earrings and I decided I wanted to have my ears pierced, too."

"They look good. You have good taste."

With that she leaned over and nibbled on my ear. We're the same height so it was easy for her to reach.

"Whoah! What was that for?"

"I wanted to see if you taste good, too."

"So do I?"

"Let me check."

She nibbled the other ear.

"Yup. Not bad at all."

So I screwed up my courage and nibbled on her earring.

"You, too!"

"Whoah!" was all she said.

"Feels pretty good, doesn't it?"

"You should know."

We settled down in the living room and tried to decide what we were going to do. After a couple of minutes Caitlyn gave me a funny look.

"Lucas, why are your fingernails pink?"

Yup, I had made a tyro mistake; I had clean forgotten about my painted nails in my hurry to change.

"I mean, it looks cute and I love the color, but I don't think I've seen a boy who painted his nails before."

"My Mom did it." I stammered.

"Cool! But why did she do it?"

"Because it matched her nails."

"So why did you want your nails to match hers?"

"It's a mother and dau… child thing, I guess."

"Wait a minute. Did you almost say 'daughter' there? Pink nails, pierced ears, washed bras. Are you wearing my old bra? Be honest."

I knew that Caitlyn was smart, but right about then I kinda wished she was a little less perceptive.

"Not right now."

"Are you now or have you ever worn my old bra?" she parodied some of the silly questions from the congressional hearings on TV.

Oh hell!

"Yes. It's a mother and daughter thing."

"That's… interesting?"

"You were going to say weird or stupid or…"

"I was thinking it, I didn't say it."

"Go ahead. I know it doesn't make any sense."

"I didn't say that. Are you her daughter?"

"I looked like it yesterday, OK?"

"You looked like it?"

"I can show you if you want."

"Show me?"

"Mom took pictures. They're on my phone."

"All right - show me."

"Mom took that at lunch in the mall."

"That is you. You're cute!"

"Yeah, mom thinks so, too."

"And you were at the mall?"

"Yeah, we did some shopping and I got my ears pierced."

"Wait a minute. Let me see that picture."

I handed her the phone. She made swiping motions and grinned.

"Tell me that's not a bra strap peeking out of your right shoulder."

"Damn, she had good eyes!

"Uh, well…"

"You were wearing a bra!"

"Didn't I just tell you I did? Do?"

"That wasn't my bra, was it?"

"Did it look like I had breasts like yours? I was wearing the bra that Mom just bought for me."

"Your mother bought you a bra?"

"Because yours didn't quite fit?"

"But why would you want to wear a bra?"

"Because it feels good."

"Only someone with no tits could say that a bra feels good. There are days when my shoulders just plain ache because I have big boobs."

"I'm sorry."

"Like hell you are. You like my big boobs, even if you're gentleman enough not to stare at them all the time."

"Maybe I just better not say anything right now."

"No, you’re going to tell me all about being your mother's daughter."

So I did. Sometimes she laughed, sometimes she gave me a look that defies description, but she listened. She tried to understand but, since I didn't really understand, I don't know how much I was able to convey.

The one thing I did know was she wasn't outraged or upset or disgusted.

She was the kind of girl - no make that the kind of person - who was a treasure to know.

We spent the morning together, but no matter what we did the conversation kept coming back to me being a daughter. She wanted to know the details of my clothes, but since I had very few of them it wasn't a long story. When I told her that I was wearing my bedroom slippers with my dress she was outraged.

"You have got to be kidding. No girl would wear slippers with a dress!"

"Hey! I'm just learning. I don't have any girly shoes and my Mom has the wrong size feet to borrow hers."

"What size do you wear?"

"An eight."

"What's that in women's sizes?"

"How would I know?"

"By looking it up, silly.

Since I had my phone in my pocket I looked it up.

It says a women's nine and a half."

"Whoopee! I wear a ten, you can borrow my shoes."

"I can?"

"Girlfriends trade clothes all the time. Lucy can wear a pair of my flats when she's wearing her dress."

"Lucy?"

"I can't call you Lucas in a dress, can I?"

"I don't know if I want you to see me in a dress."

"Who says you have a choice?"

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Let me check with Dad and maybe I can come over and help Lucy cook dinner for your Mom tonight."

"Wait! I…"

She was off and running. She was gone long enough for me to get nervous, but she came back with a pair of shoes in one hand and a shit-eating grin on her face."

"Here - try these on."

"Now?" I asked.

"No, when the moon is full and the werewolves are howling."

"You're weird."

"Takes one to know one, Lucy."

They fit.

"So what are we making for dinner?"

"I was planning on stuffed peppers. We should be back at my house by two o'clock."

"Will you have time to change?"

"Just like a girl. Always wanting to change her boyfriend."

"Poof! You're my girlfriend now."

"That's derogatory. I am not a poof. Watch your language."

"I stand corrected."

"You're sitting."

That's when she hit me with a pillow. There was no intelligible conversation for some time, but she did end up in my lap, breathing hard.

"Who won?" she asked.

"Who cares?" I answered.

"You did that just to lure me into your lap," she accused.

"You started it."

"I finished it, too. I like being in your lap."

I nibbled on her earring, just like she had done earlier. She took a deep breath and her chest expanded. She had a lot of chest to expand.

"Mmmmm." she purred

"Yeah. Feels nice."

"We should be going."

"I guess." I let her go. She didn't move.

"Are you ticklish?" I asked.

She moved.

 

I took the time to text Mom before we left:

Hi Mom

Just wanted to let you know that Caitlyn is going to help me make dinner tonight. Long story, forgetful daughter. Tell you when you're home.

Lucy

P.S. Blame the name on Caitlyn.

I was pretty nervous when we got to our place. I left Caitlyn downstairs and went up to change. I fixed my hair, put on some jewelry and put on the dress for the third time that day - with all the practice I was getting I would be an expert by the end of the week. I was checking myself in the mirror, looking at Caitlyn's shoes. They were certainly better than my bedroom slippers, but then I had an idea. I remembered I had a pair of sandals somewhere in my closet.

I didn't wear them often, but not only would they look better than my bedroom slippers, but they would show off my painted toes. A little digging and there they were. As I bent over to strap them in place I felt my enhanced breasts touch my legs. What would it be like to have real breasts? I guess that was something I would never know, so I just had to be satisfied with what I had.

Everything was in place, so I had to go down the stairs and let Caitlyn see the new me. Showing her pictures was one thing; showing my girlfriend that I looked like a girl was a whole different thing.

She was paging through the newspaper (yes - we still got an actual paper paper) when I entered.

Caitlyn, meet Lucy

"Hi Caitlyn. You wanted to meet Lucy."

Her eyes got wide, then she smiled.

"Hello Lucy. You're not what I expected."

"Should I go up and change back?"

"No! I just… Damn, you look cute!"

"That's what Mom said. I didn't know if I believed her."

"She's right and I'm jealous."

"Jealous? Take it from me - you're beautiful. I'll settle for being cute. I'm the one who should be jealous. You're not mad or grossed out or anything?"

"No. A little confused, maybe. I mean - I've seen those shows about transgender - is that the right word? - and sort of wondered why anyone would want to do that. I never expected…"

"You'd have a boyfriend that has a lot of girl in him?"

"Yeah."

"I'll let you know if I figure it out. After all, this is the first time I have worn a dress."

"Jeez!"

"We should start getting supper ready. It has to simmer for an hour or so once we finish making it."

"OK. My grandmother used to make them, but Dad doesn't like peppers so we never do."

"Do you like bell peppers?"

"They're OK. I guess. Like I said, we don't eat them at our house."

"Grab an apron and I'll get the stuff out. You can make the stuffing while I start the peppers. The recipe is on the card on the counter."

"Let me see… Half a pound of ground beef, half a pound of ground pork… Why use both?"

"Mom says the flavor is better. She's the expert."

"You got a bowl?"

"I'll get it."

"Uh Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

"When you're wearing a short dress you should squat down and not bend over. You have blue panties."

"Oh!"

"Didn't you mother teach you about modesty?"

"Smartass. She taught Lucas about the kind of modesty he needed. Lucy hasn't had any lessons."

"Well, you just had one."

"I guess I need some help if I'm going to do this right."

"Funny - it's usually the guy who wants to see my panties."

"Did I say I didn't? I'm too much of a… Is there a word for the feminine of 'gentleman'?"

"Lady, I suppose. Nah, that doesn't quite cut it."

"This isn't getting dinner ready."

"Right. One onion, finely chopped. Cutting board?"

"In the cupboard right in front of you."

"Does it matter which one I use?"

"We use the wooden ones for veggies and the plastic ones for meat. Don't want cross contamination."

"As opposed to cross dressing? Keep that knife away from me."

"I'm only slicing peppers.

"Yeah, sure. Meat and onion are in the bowl. One third cup of rice. Where… Oh, right there in the canister that says 'rice.' "

"Very observant."

"Panties aren't the only thing I look at. Salt to taste. I always hate that when it's in a recipe. Everybody has different tastes. My brother practically pours salt on everything but Mom hardly uses any."

"Try half a teaspoon. Measuring spoons are hanging over the sink. To taste for the Italian seasoning is about a teaspoon."

"Right. How many peppers are you going to use?"

"Four big ones is just about right for this recipe, one of each color."

"They come in colors?"

"Green, yellow, orange and red like my face when I flash my panties."

"Get over it. It happens. Besides, flashing your panties can be a potent weapon in our feminine arsenal."

"One you've used?"

"As if! No way Dad would let me out of the house in a dress short enough to flash my panties."

"Darn!"

"Too bad I'm wearing jeans. Your time may come."

"Uh…"

"Boyfriends get special privileges. Wait and see. Those peppers look like Christmas tree ornaments."

"I don't think they'd last very long hanging on a tree."

"Now two eggs. In the fridge, I assume?"

"Yup."

"It says combine and mix well. How do you mix this stuff."

"Stick your hand in and start squeezing."

"Yucch!"

"Just like a girl!"

"You want to be a girl, then you do it."

"Does that mean if we get married I have to make my own stuffed peppers?"

"Slow down, tiger," Caitlyn laughed. "We aren't even going steady yet."

"Do you want to?"

"With Lucas or Lucy?"

"It's a two-for-one package, although I don't know how often Lucy will be around."

"I do if you do."

"I thought you were not into saying 'I do'." I said.

"You're getting to be a pain. Yes, we're going steady."

"Then here, hold out your hand."

I took off the ring I got at Claire's and put it on her right hand. A cheap ring, but it's the thought that counts. Neither of us had class rings to exchange."

"Wow! It fits!"

"We wear the same bra size, why not the same ring size."

"That doesn't make any sense. Your turn."

She took off one of her rings and put it on my right hand. It also fit.

"I guess I should use my left hand to squeeze the gooey filling."

"You're so romantic, girlfriend."

So I mixed up the filling and filled the peppers. I put them in the pan and poured tomato juice all over them, then put them on low heat. With that done, we made good use of the love seat for the next half an hour.

Wearing a dress is a distinct advantage when it comes to cuddling with your girlfriend.

"So did you learn to cook because its something girls do?" Caitlyn asked.

"No way. Mom thinks that any kid, son or daughter, needs to be able to cook, sew, do laundry, mow the lawn and change the oil in the car."

"You can change the oil in the car?"

"Easy! We get in the car, drive to the five minute oil change place, roll down the window and tell them to have at it."

"You!"

"Can you really see my mother crawling under the car and letting dirty oil drip all over her?"

"Not your mother, but my Aunt Sophie changes her own oil and even replaces brakes."

"Not one of my talents."

"No urge to race fast cars or drive monster trucks over school buses? Bungee jumping over the Grand Canyon? Blowing thing up in giant fireballs?"

"I can't even drive yet. How could I be doing the Monster Truck thing?"

"Good, you're still on my list as boyfriend material. Now about the girlfriend part…"

"Is this a test?"

"Yup. You get several free passes for doing laundry and cooking. Did you pick out that dress you're wearing all by yourself?"

"I found it but I did ask Mom if it looked good on me."

"Definite girlfriend material. No guy would ask his mother if a dress looked good on him."

"Most guys wouldn't be wearing dresses."

"Which means you’re not most guys. Have you ever thought about how you move when you're running the bases?"

"No, I just run and hope they can't get the ball to the bag before I get there."

"Next game I'm going to shoot some video of you and some of the other guys. They pump their arms and bend forward. You're graceful when you run. You're faster than most of them, too."

"That's not the first time I've been told I run like a girl, but it never bothered me. I got where I was going so who cares?"

"Again, not your typical guy. How did you learn to sit like that?"

"Like what?"

"With your legs crossed and knees together. Most guys just sprawl."

"I never thought about it. Maybe it's because I watched how my mother sits and do it that way."

"You use conditioner in your hair?"

"Of course."

"Also not a guy thing. My brother Zane is the original frizzhead; just won't take care of his hair properly."

"Jeez, with fine red hair using conditioner is not a choice."

"Only if you want to look good. Don't get me wrong, but you were more than halfway to cute girl before you started wearing a bra."

"I suppose so. Sometimes I daydreamed I was a girl."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But if Mom hadn't brought the subject up I would have just kept dreaming.

We cuddled a little bit more but, strangely enough, we started to get bored. Both of us were the type of people who don't like to do nothing for very long.

Now don't laugh, but I suggested a chess game and Caitlyn readily agreed. We set up on the dining room table and were deep into the game when the back door opened.

"Hello, I'm home," Called my mother. "Smells good in here. Hi Caitlyn. I see you've met my daughter."

"You could say that. I was just telling her how cute she is."

"Don't give her a swelled head. She'll never get that dress off tonight if you do."

"Mooooom!"

We adjourned to the kitchen, where us three woman chopped salad and put biscuits in the oven. (We cheated and used those biscuits in a can that go POP when you peel back the label.

Mom drove Caitlyn home later, young girls shouldn't be walking alone at night. I suppose that includes me these days.

I really enjoyed the day, and having Caitlyn be cool with me as Lucy made it even better.

The Next Day: The Protest

I woke up to the wonderful feeling of being in a nightgown. I often woke up with my pajama tops pushed up almost to my chin and my belly uncovered. I guess I'm a restless sleeper. With the nightgown I didn't have that problem. An unexpected side benefit from my girlie tryout.

I heard Mom moving in the kitchen, so I put on a robe and joined her before she left for work.

"Good morning, sunshine," she greeted me.

"Good morning to you, too." I answered.

"Any plans for today? She asked.

"Just getting dressed up, maybe calling Caitlyn."

"My, my! What a surprise."

"Mooooom!"

I dithered a minute selecting what cereal I wanted, then sat at the table and started eating."

"I think I'm jealous," Mom said.

"Jealous. Of who?"

"You, princess. I have to go off and toil in the vineyards while you lounge around in your nightgown and eat. To quote one of your favorite lines: 'It ain't fair!' "

"So I should quit school and get a job?"

"Not where I was going with that. Wait until you're old enough to support your aging mother before you do anything like that."

I was going to make a smart remark but my phone started singing She's My Kind of Girl'. That was Caitlyn's ringtone. I put it on speaker so I could continue eating my cereal.

"Good morning, may I speak to Lucy?"

Mom stuck her tongue out at me.

"She's not awake yet," I answered.

"Then get her lazy ass out of bed. There's something she needs to see."

"Her - uh my - ass is not lazy."

"Of course it is. I grabbed it enough yesterday."

"Caitlyn, my mother is listening."

"Hi Mrs Bailey."

The girl had no shame!

"Hello Caitlyn. Should I be concerned that you two are playing grab-ass?"

"Just making sure Lucy had her panties on straight."

"So you were performing a public service, then."

"I can say that it was a private service, not public."

"We can skip the details. Just remember I trust you."

"You can trust us. Really. Anyway, have you seen the news today?"

"The paper is still on the porch."

"Then google 'State Leg' on your phone, Lucy."

"Politics? At this hour of the morning."

"You need to see the story."

"All right, let me look… s-t-a-t-e l-e-g… Why those…"

"Your mother is listening!"

"...sanctamonious, hypocritical, transphobic…"

"I told you that Lucy needed to see the news. They vote on an anti-trans bill Friday. We can't let them get away with it!"

"Caitlyn, we're too young to vote."

"But we're old enough to go down to the capitol and wave protest signs and let them know they are just plain wrong!"

"But the capitol is more than a hundred miles away."

"Mom said she'll take us and anyone else who can come. Lucy, you need to be there."

"Lucy!?"

"Who else. You're the prime target of those bast… Well, you know what word I didn't say."

"You didn't tell your mother about Lucy, did you?"

"No, but I'm sure she isn't going to freak out or anything. Mom and Dad are both Liberals with a capital 'L'."

"But… I just started…"

"You looked good to me yesterday. You were out all day Sunday with your mother. Besides, if you get clocked it's a freakin' trans rally, there will be plenty of people who don't look as good as you do."

"Somehow that isn't quite as reassuring as you think it is."

"Caitlyn," my mother cut in, "This may be a little much. Lucy was planning to spend a few days getting used to her new self. It's a fine cause and we both can support it, but I'm concerned for Lucas' safety if word gets out at school or around town. These bills are only one aspect of the hate-mongering that is sweeping the country."

"I guess I never thought of that."

"That's a parent's job. Your job is to whip up the enthusiasm, my job is to temper it with reality."

"Blecch!"

"Look, I have to go to work. Let's think of this a while and then we can discuss it later."

"You can talk to my Mom when you get a chance. I'll give you her cell phone."

Mom put it in her phone and left for work.

"Can you come over to our place, Lucy? You should meet my Mother if we're going to do this."

Oh joy!

"Didn't we just say that I don't want friends and neighbors to know about Lucy?"

"Yeah, you did." She sounded disappointed. "Then come over and you can change when you get here."

"I don't know…"

"You can do it, Lucy."

"But I don't have a thing to wear!"

"Wow! You really have the girl thing down pat."

"I mean it. I have that dress and Mom's old gray sweater with my jeans. That's it."

"You poor thing!"

"Pfffftt."

That's as close as I can come to spelling the raspberry I gave her.

"Seriously. We can go shopping for you."

"I don't know. That can get expensive."

"We can go to the second-hand stores. You can get some good stuff if you have patience. You said your Mom gives you a clothing allowance."

She gives Lucas a clothing allowance."

"So how much do you have?"

"I have a couple of hundred bucks left."

"Girl, we can get you looking good for less than fifty."

"You can?"

"Not that you didn't look pretty good yesterday, but a girl needs choices!"

"What if we meet someone who knows me? I don't look all that different when I'm trying to look like a girl."

"We do what your Mom did, we go far enough away that that won't happen."

"And how do we get there? It would be a pretty long ride on our bikes."

"You are badly in need of sneaky little sister lessons. My big brother - the one with the car - owes me. He'll be home this afternoon and we'll live in luxury with a chauffeur."

"Right. You're nuts, you know."

"But you love me anyway."

"I think that may be true…"

"Cool! Get your cute little ass over here."

Lucy Goes Visiting

So I put my bra, enhancers, jewelry and Mom's sweater in my backpack, along with the flats Caitlyn gave me. I decided to walk to her house, partly to give me practice walking like a girl does. The Internet is full of good advice. The other part was hoping that if Caitlyn came back to our house we could walk holding hands.

I got a hug when I arrived, and Caitlyn's mother gave me a cheery hello. I stammered something back to her, realizing that she was going to see me as Lucy. Strangers were one thing, but your girlfriend's mother!

"Mom," Caitlyn began, "remember what we were talking about this morning?"

"I'm not so old that I'm loosing my memory yet, kid," she replied.

"No, I mean about the anti-trans crap."

"That I do remember. Someone needs to go up there and knock some sense into those intolerant idiots."

"I couldn't agree more! Give us a minute and I want you to meet someone who really agrees with those sentiments."

"Really?"

"Yup. C'mon Lucas."

I was led out of the kitchen and towards my doom.

OK, so that was overblown prose, but I wasn't very sure of myself as Lucy back then. Caitlyn shoved me into the bathroom to change, and then took me to her bedroom to complete the transformation.

She brushed my hair back into pigtails, rubbed something sweet-smelling on my face that she said would do wonders for my skin and pronounced me ready to meet her mother as Lucy.

I wasn't quite sure I believed her.

 

"Mom, I want you to meet my friend Lucy. She has a personal interest in the anti-trans bills they're trying to ram through."

"Who?" She turned around and saw me. "Well I'll be damned!"

"I hope not," I replied.

"I suppose this was your idea, Caitlyn," her mother remarked.

"No, it's me that wanted to do this," I replied for her. "Caitlyn has been very understanding."

"I'll bet. So understanding she's pushing again. I know my daughter."

"Mother!"

"No, she's offered to help me, but she isn't really pushing."

I think…

"OK you two. Let's sit down while you tell me all about it."

So we did and I think I gave a much clearer story having organized my mind to tell Caitlyn yesterday.

And you want to go all the way to the Capitol to protest the anti-trans bills, right?"

"Yes!" We both answered together.

"And how do you intend to get there? The Capitol is a good four hours away."

"I was going to ask Zane to take us." Caitlyn answered.

"You are out of your little, tiny mind if you think I would let you and your brother run around that far away from home without any adult supervision."

"Zane's an adult!"

"Zane has reached the age of consent. Zane is not an adult quite yet. You two are far too good at creating situations for me to approve something like this. Then you add in going with your boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever…"

"Don't you trust me?"

Damn! That girl could do wide-eyed innocent like no one I have ever seen.

"In a word: No. N. O. No."

"But it's important!"

"That it is. That's why I think I'll be the one to take you. It might just keep you out of jail."

"Mother!"

"We're going to have to clear this with your mother, Luca… Lucy."

"Of course."

"We can talk to her after work tonight," offered Caitlyn. "Why don't you invite her for dinner? That way we can figure out what will work."

"I'll send her a text right away," I told her Mom.

"Do you young people ever talk to anybody any more? Always with the texts."

"They don't like her getting phone calls when she's working unless it's urgent."

"I suppose that makes sense. So what are you two going to do today?"

"We're going shopping. Zane will take us after lunch."

"Do I need to have bail money ready?"

"Mother!"

"So if Zane is going to have lunch when he gets home, you two girls can help me get it ready."

"OK, Mom."

She didn't sound particularly enthusiastic, but we did make lunch. I grew nostalgic for the days before everyone had a camera on their phone 24/7, even if I never lived in those days. Was it really necessary for Caitlyn to take this picture?

Actually, a couple of others she took came out very nicely, even if my bra strap is showing on one of them. That's Zane of the unconditioned hair in the first one. I have to think Caitlyn was exaggerating a bit about how he cares for it.

I still get a kick out of looking at the second one, once again I was caught with my bra strap showing. Actually wearing a bra was still new enough that it gave me a thrill.

As you can tell from the pictures, we put together a rather fancy lunch. Caitlyn figured as long as she was bribing her brother for taking us shopping we ought to give him a perk or two. Just in case you were wondering, the fancy wine glass is full of cranberry juice. You didn't think Caitlyn's mother would let us get away with wine, did you?

I'm not going to go into detail about our shopping trip, but Zane made his annoyance known and Caitlyn made dark hints about who she would tell and what would happen if he finked out on us. I have to say, that girl can keep a secret, which boded well for her keeping my secret. No matter how I asked she wouldn't reveal what she had on her brother. She just smiled and looked smug.

One other thing needs mentioning. While Zane slouched around trying to project his best put-upon-big-brother attitude, he did watch us pretty closely. Early on in the selection process I was trying to decide between two dresses. Holding one in front of me I noticed Zane give a little shake of his head. When I held the other one up he gave me a very subtle thumbs up. Caitlyn was looking through another rack and didn't notice, but I was pleased. The big faker was enjoying this and was even a fashion critic.

I guess I missed a lot growing up an only child.

The score at the end of the afternoon: four dresses, three skirts, five blouses and two pairs of shoes with heels higher than I thought was reasonable. We hit a half-price sale day so the total cost $49.76. Caitlyn was right about the prices.

When we got back Caitlyn made me change and took a picture after much fussing and stage directions. Actually it came out very well.

Permission and Planning

By the time Caitlyn got done with posing me I was almost comfortable about being Lucy with other people around. I mean like other people who aren't strangers. Naturally, since the two of us were the cause for the upcoming dinner we had to help prepare it.

This time I got to chop green beans while Caitlyn peeled onions - a quite equitable division of labor from my point-of-view. Once Caitlyn was done I learned how to caramelize onions - which just means frying them carefully until they turn dark brown. That takes some care so they don't burn.

The pork chops got sprinkled with ground fennel. I had never heard of it but Mrs B was a lot more adventuresome in the kitchen than Mom. We chopped potatoes in cubes and coated them with olive oil, turmeric and several other spices so they turned yellow, put them on a baking sheet and baked them. Pretty fancy dinner, but Mrs B wanted to make something special since she had guests.

When Mom arrived Mrs B pan-fried the pork chops and finished the steamed green beans with soy sauce, butter and sesame seeds. She even had black sesame seeds to mix with the white ones. I decided I wanted her to teach me how to cook some of those interesting things. The two lovely waitresses served dinner while ignoring Zane's commentary. We all enjoyed it very much.

After dinner the waitresses became the dishwashers while the parents talked, but at least Zane was included in the kitchen so it wasn't sex-based segregation. Having the adults discussing us started my nerves working again. What were they saying and how would it affect us?

I had really enjoyed my time as Lucy, but did I want to drive for hours and get into politics because if it? Maybe; it might be interesting. Of course, there was the plus that I would be spending that time with Caitlyn.

Do you have any doubt as to my decision?

 

The only thing that kept me from chewing my nails was the paint on them, I didn't want to mess them up. So we just sat at the kitchen table and tried to make small talk. Well, actually it was mostly Zane tossing zingers at us for causing such a kerfuffle.

At last the conference was over and we filed in. Caitlyn couldn't hold back.

"So can Zane take us to the capitol?" she asked.

"No, came the answer."

Caitlyn took a breath to protest, but I saw the look on Mom's face and knew something was up. Before she could speak I said "No but?"

"We can all go. Consider it an educational field trip," grinned Mr Brumby.

"Yes!" crowed Caitlyn.

"Do I have to go?" whined Zane.

"All of us women," corrected Mrs Brumby.

For a second I was incensed to be left behind but then realized 'all of us women' included me.

"Now the plan is to take the RV on Thursday and stay in an RV park near the Capitol so we can be there early Friday morning. It sleeps six so we should have plenty of room. We have bunk beds so Lucy and Caitlyn won't have to share a bed."

Mom stuck her tongue out at me. Such a model of adult behavior!

At that point in my life I had no burning desire to share a bed with Caitlyn, we were still getting to know each other. I suppose Ryan Mondalmi would sneer at me for being a goodie-two-shoes, but I didn't give a damn about Ryan.

So that's how I got to go on my first road trip as Lucy.

This Is Camping?

Remember a while back I said that Caitlyn's family likes to go camping. That's certainly true, but I had no idea just what they meant by camping. I was thinking summer camp - tents, campfires, stuff like that. Camping, right?

Wrong!

To the Brumbys, camping meant a honking great trailer with a separate bedroom for the adults, bunk beds for the kids and a fold-out couch for guests. It had a complete kitchen, running hot and cold water, refrigerator, stove, microwave and even a bathroom. Oh yeah, don't forget the TV and stereo system. When they went camping they took their house with them.

So that's why I ended up in the back seat of a pickup truck with Caitlyn (Mom got to ride shotgun) for more than four hours. Mom and I packed more than the two days since one of my first lessons in being a girl was that you need a lot more clothes than you expect to use.

Mom got the time off because she had a great boss. Of course she spent a lot of time on her phone while we drove, talking about things that were so much gobbledegook to me. That was OK since I had Caitlyn to talk to when we weren't playing games on our phones.

We pulled into this big RV park, where Caitlyn and her Mom set up the RV. This involved finding a level spot, which we couldn't. Caitlyn got out a big piece of wood from the pickup and her Mom backed the trailer onto it. That made the thing level side-to-side. Once the RV was unhitched from the pickup, they pressed a button and the thing moved in the front until it was level back-to-front. They even had a little bubble levels stuck on the sides of the RV so they knew where to stop.

Everything was done early enough that we got to go and wander around a botanical garden. That was kind of cool, especially since I was wearing a dress. It was fun to watch the little kids try and touch the big goldfish in the pond. Don't tell anyone, but I tried to do it myself. They were faster than my hands.

Mrs B did all the cooking that night, since the kitchen was too small for anyone else to be in there with her. Caitlyn and I still got stuck washing the dishes by hand, though. The trailer wasn't big enough for a dishwasher.

Getting ready for bed was complicated. Each of us got to go in the bedroom, take a shower and change into our nightclothes. This took some time as the hot water tank was small and we had to wait between showers to let it heat up again.

We may have looked like we were all girls but the parents knew better. I was nervous about having everybody see me in a nightgown, but it was OK. (I did put on a pair of panties for the night, something I hadn't done before.)

Actually, seeing Caitlyn in her nightgown was very interesting. (She wore panties, too. The parent's nightgowns were heavy enough that I couldn't tell.) I tried not to stare at her breasts, which wobbled freely without being in a bra. I knew they were big, but… This brought on some strange, new and interesting feelings in my body. I tried hard to think of myself as a girl and not do or say something dumb.

Following right on the heels of that thought I started to wonder what it would be like to actually have breasts. I certainly liked wearing a bra for some reason, but what would it be like to actually need to wear a bra?

Then there was seeing Caitlyn's mother in her nightgown. My first pajama party as a girl sure was interesting.

 

I was laying in the top bunk, trying not to think too much about Caitlyn in the bunk below me. I wasn't getting too far when I heard Mom start to snore on the living room couch.

"Lucy, are you still awake?"

"Yeah. Been an exciting day."

"So, do you like looking like a girl?"

"It's different, but still the same?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean I really like the clothes and the way people treated me, but I'm still the same person under it all."

"Would you still think that if Ryan started waving your bra around?"

"As if I would be wearing it anywhere around him!"

"I wasn't wearing mine when he started waving it around."

"And aren't you glad of that. No way that jerk is going to get anywhere near my underwear drawer and I'm certainly not going to be taking my bra with me to the sports center."

"I guess I mean what if someone treated you like an idiot just because you're a girl?"

"Yeah. I guess it would sort of be like when they ride me about being a small guy. I don't like it very much, but it seems the people who give me grief are people I don't care very much about."

"True, but I can't tell you how many times some guy has taken a look at me and decided I'm stupid just because I have big breasts. Really!"

"That's stupid as far as I'm concerned. I've been thinking a lot about breasts lately."

"I can't imagine why. Just because you've started wearing a bra and seem to like it."

"I don't know why, but it feels good."

"You don't intend to get into any size competition with me, do you?"

"Uh…."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. There are some girls who think that filling their cups is a contest."

"Not one I'd expect you to lose."

"Smartass. You must be half girl, no way I thought I'd ever be talking about my boobies with a boy."

"Do girls use words like boobs and tits and honkers?"

"We sure do. Also prick and sausage and dick and…"

"Now wait a minute. If you don't like guys judging you by cup size then is it fair to speculate about how we're endowed?"

"It may not be fair, but it is fun. Too bad you guys aren't as obvious about your endowment as we girls have to be."

"It can get embarrassing if we display such things."

"I bet. I've seen it happen more than once. Have you ever…"

"Not really. It's only recently I've gotten interested in such things."

"Seriously?"

"Well, you're my first girlfriend."

"That's kind of nice. You're my first boyfriend, but I have always had a crush on you."

"What!"

"Careful! Don't wake your mother - or my mother."

"Right. You had a crush? On me?"

"Well, for one you're awful cute, whether you're trying to be a boy or a girl. You're smart but you don't act like you're better than everyone because of it. I know you've helped a couple of kids that were having trouble with math."

"I do like math. You noticed I was helping, did you? I tried to keep it low key so I didn't embarrass anyone."

"I noticed that part, too. Then there was how much effort you put into finding me to return my gym bag. Lisa gave you a hard time when all you were doing was trying to help."

"She sure did. I'm glad you came over."

"So am I, otherwise I wouldn't have a boyfriend."

"Or a girlfriend?"

"Or a girlfriend. You know, there were times this evening that I completely forgot you weren't a girl. You just seem to fit in."

"After spending the day as a girl with my mother, I decided that if I was going to be a girl I had better be good at being a girl. I try to watch how my Mom or any of the good girls at school behave and do like them. That includes you, girlfriend, but it doesn't seem strange to discuss things like breasts and penises with you. I wonder what it would be like to have real breasts, not just enhancers."

"Too bad I can't share mine with you, I have more than enough."

"Good thing Mom's asleep or she could get the wrong idea about that."

"Maybe someday, but we need to be together a bit longer before…"

"Right. I'm an understanding girlfriend and a patient boyfriend."

"You told me you've been interested in bras for a long time, and I don't think it was for the usual reasons a horny teenage boy is interested in bras."

"You're going to think this is silly, but that's because I like ovals. And ellipses."

"No way!"

You've heard the story before, so I won't repeat it. We finally had to stop talking and try to sleep since we were going to be up early in the morning.

It took a little while.

A Capitol Idea

Morning was the reverse of going to bed, with each of us getting dressed separately in the bedroom. Breakfast was simple, cereal and toast, and we were on our way. There was even parking near the place, so we walked over to the Capitol building. The grounds were huge and had several monuments here and there. We stopped at one and read the plaque.

"You've got to be kidding me!" exclaimed Caitlyn.

"Nope, the people who put this thing up were racist to the core," her mother replied.

"But those yahoos were Confederate leaders! Traitors!"

"And proud of it. Their descendants are now legislators, my dear. They can't screw blacks so easily any more, so they just pick another target. Like transgenders."

"Are they going to get away with it?"

"Almost certainly. The troglodytes have the votes. The liberals can obfuscate and delay, we can let them know what we think of them, but don't be too disappointed when we lose."

"Then why bother?"

"Because it is never wrong to do the right thing, even if it isn't the popular thing."

"I guess…"

So we headed for the main building. One thing for sure, the guys that built these palaces sure didn't give a hoot about helping the handicapped. Every entrance had about twenty steps to get to it. There was one forlorn little wheelchair sign with an arrow pointing to the back, where the modern addition had a door that someone in a wheelchair could use.

Servant's entrance in the back, right?

So we climbed the steps to be greeted by a trooper with an automatic rifle. He pretty much sat on the balustrade and vaguely acknowledged us.

"No matter how nice the guy is in greeting us," Caitlyn's Mom said, "having that weapon sure sends the wrong message to anyone wanting to talk to their legislator. Then again, when the legislators told everyone they could carry guns whenever they wanted and to hell with things like permits, I guess they didn't want to be an easy target."

"At least he isn't in all white like the Star Wars troopers," Caitlyn observed.

"Yeah," I said, "Then we wouldn't have to worry about his gun. Those guys never hit their targets."

Then came the metal detector, which I passed (I guess the hardware on my bra wasn't enough to set it off.) and the purse inspection, which I also passed. That done, we walked down halls with so much marble they must have been digging it out of the ground for decades. There was enough dark wood that they must have leveled three forests. Sure was impressive, though.

We finally made it to the center of the building, where we could look up at the dome. We later learned that the architects had orders to be sure that our dome was higher than the dome in Washington DC. Yup, the pettiness of our legislators was there right from the start.

Our parents had found out that several of the groups who were protesting the anti-trans laws had managed to reserve a room to gather in, which is something that I found odd. Why would they let people who opposed their bigoted laws have a place to gather? I never did find out why.

In any case, Mom asked one of the numerous troopers (not one toting a big, ugly rifle!) how to find the room and off we went down a long hall. The hall was lined with portraits of grumpy old white men in dark suits. I suppose they were trying to look distinguished, but to me they just looked grumpy. They were just as welcoming as the gun-toting troopers.

I was starting to feel pretty insignificant walking along that long, high ornate hall with those disapproving stares when Caitlyn took my hand and suddenly I felt much better. She whispered "Now I know what if feels like to be a bug in a collection!" and I had to laugh.

The glare of those old buggers made me think of the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz, and I couldn't help it. I started skipping and singing We're Off To See The Wizard just to spite them. Caitlyn caught on quick and sang along while our mothers looked at us like we were crazy. Maybe we were.

We finally made it to the reserved room and went in. I don't know what I was expecting, but the crowd already there was about as diverse as anyone could imagine. My eye was immediately drawn to two Goth girls - spiky hair, lots of black makeup and black everything else. Their black corsets highlighted two pairs of lily-white breasts that would have been right at home in an English ballad. They made my modest and well-concealed inserts seem insignificant!

They certainly stood out, but there were young men with wispy beards, middle aged women who looked like suburban housewives, dudes in suits, kids our own age in T-shirts and jeans, even old geezers with pot bellies and gray, bushy beards. Caitlyn and I just sort of blended right in to the milling crowd.

Eventually a young guy who would have been right at home as a summer camp counselor stood up and asked for quiet. He explained who was sponsoring this gathering and what they hoped to accomplish. Actually, accomplish was too strong a word. About all we could do is observe and hope sanity and justice prevailed.

Right - that day reinforced the strong streak of cynicism I already had.

They had a slide show of some of the people who had a history of trying to goad trans supporters into making fools of themselves, along with a bit of their history. They had counselors to help if anyone got too upset at the legislative circus. Mostly they warned that it was going to be boring!

Boring? How could something so important be boring? If you can ask that question you've never watched a legislature at work. After spending that day at the leg, I think you are wonderfully lucky if you never have the opportunity.

Firstly, the trans bills were not expected to be voted on until later in the day, there was a whole bunch of other stuff first. The camp counselor guy explained that this was a day devoted to voting on the bills they had already debated, so there wouldn't be much debate until the trans bill, which was still controversial.

So the meeting broke up with up with a warning to stay away from the people in purple shirts who were going to "protect our children" by denying them medical care. We were also warned to refer any reporters to one of the group leaders, as there were some of them just itching to make headlines by tripping one of us up.

When the meeting broke up, we ended up next to someone who was named Quincy. Quincy was an enigma. About my height, but big boned (not an euphemism for fat, just built wide) wearing quite a bit of leather but baby-faced and with a high voice. From my vast experience in watching bras on girl's backs I realized there was no bra to watch but from the front there were bumps maybe about as big as my own. Of course, on Quincy's body they were not very noticeable.

Oh the irony! Here I was, a boy trying to be the best girl I could be at a gathering to support transgendered people and I couldn't decide if Quincy was a boy or a girl. It bothered me that I was bothered by not knowing. Could feeling like this be why those people in the purple shirts were so upset about transgendered people? Quincy seemed to be happy being Quincy, so why did it bother me?

It was much later when I found Quincy was FTM, but by then we were friends and it didn't matter.

We headed off to observe our legislators in session, where I found out everything I thought I knew about the place was just plain wrong. I think it was Mark Twain that observed that 'People who love sausage and respect the law should never watch either being made.' I actually did get to watch sausage being made on a class trip to one of those colonial village places. Not a pretty sight, we lost several classmates who had to run for the toilets. At least I wasn't one of them. Oh, and the sausage tasted good!

Law, on the other hand…

First, I was expecting to see an impressive chamber for the lawmakers. I had only seen pictures of the US congress, with the curved rows of seats surrounding a dais. Not here, the chamber looked for all the world like my study hall, if you tripled the size and put a balcony around it. Really, it was full of study tables with laptop computers on them and there were people in suits chasing all over the place. On the front wall was what looked like a bingo scoreboard, but it had all the representatives names on it with red or green lights to tally the votes.

Second, I thought those guys spent their days debating. Nope - remember this was the day devoted to voting. One after one the bills came up, someone read the title and made a brief statement and then they voted. Red and green lights lit up and someone whacked a gavel and said if it passed or failed.

Much of it I didn't understand, being technical amendments to various laws or subjects about which I knew nothing. Guess what - it was boring! Other than watching a dozen or so purple shirt people nothing exciting happened, so we left after a while to have lunch.

Someone had reserved a section of the cafeteria for us, probably to keep us isolated from the purple shirt gang so no fights got started. I got to talk to several people during the break and learned I wasn't the only boy there who liked being a girl. In fact, I don't think anyone figured out I was a boy. By the time lunch was over I realized that no matter what clothes people were wearing they were people.

 

The afternoon was a little different. We gathered in a room that was for all the world a small theater. I still don't know how the group managed to get such accommodation when we were protesting the high-handed actions of the bigoted legislature. There we watched the legislative session on the screen, which was much better than being there live. You could see who was talking and hear them clearly.

Finally the anti-trans bill came up and we all shut up to listen. The Good Guys came out of the box protesting, starting with the name of the bill, making it clear that this would harm trans kids, not protect them. Then the sound shut off - only the floor debate would be broadcast, "internal communications" were private. I suppose that, considering the level of BS so far in the day, it wasn't surprising that they would want to hide just what they were doing. And that's how it went, a few sentences, a challenge, then silence.

Two hours later we gave up and went back to the RV, disgruntled and tired. Listening to the news, nothing happened for the rest of the day. The bill passed the following day, to no one's surprise, and trans people in the state were told they were not wanted and could just die and go away.

The hate didn't affect me directly, since I was not taking any medication or anything, but if I did find out there was more to this stuff than just wearing the clothes I was going to be in a world of hurt.

Since we were in the state capitol, the parents decided we should spend the day seeing the sights and being tourists, then go back home on Monday. No objection from Caitlyn or me, we got to run around in our pretty clothes and have fun and our parents let us skip school. Who were we to argue?

So, Did I Want To Be A Girl?

Dumb question, huh?

So that's it, before my first week as a crossdresser was finished I was told I was crazy and didn't deserve any treatment even if I needed it. It didn't stop me from dressing, and Caitlyn and I spent a good deal of time as girlfriends until the end of high school. After that, you can be sure we went to college out of state in a place that had sane people running it.

Well, that may be overstatement, but at least I could get the medical treatment I needed. I'm full time these days, living as a woman and with an understanding partner. No, it isn't Caitlyn, we remain friends but live several hundred miles apart. I'm in politics these days, and running for the state leg. If I win, I'll be the first trans member, so I'm going to give it my all.

Author's Note

Warning: political plug.

While the story carefully does not identify Lucy's home state, the scene at the legislature actually happened here in Texas, with the exception of me being fifteen years old. My wife and I were there to protest, for all the good it did. It didn't drive me into politics, but my wife is hip deep in organizing a protest at the Texas legislature. Reverend Barber's Poor People's Campaign plans to show up at every state capitol on March 2, 2024. I hope anyone reading this will consider joining us if you don't like what has been happening to our country.