6 comments/ 65362 views/ 5 favorites Thomasina Ch. 01 By: frillypanty 1. Busted and forced to submit This is as near to being an autobiography as is consistent with writing a story – although it was my sister and a female cousin who confronted me, not two sisters. It was also a lot more than thirteen years ago! My sisters, both of them, burst into my room without preamble before our parents' car had had time to clear the city. Immediately they'd left the house I'd gone up to my own room to get ready to go out as, I'd assumed, had both Teresa and Tamsin. I was right at that, they had gone back to their rooms but not to get ready to go out but, in fact to remove all their clothes and wrap themselves in diaphanous robes that did very little to disguise their otherwise naked bodies underneath. Even though they are my sisters, I admit the sight of them both in their dishabille, Teresa two-and-a-half years older than me, Tamsin five years older (than me) save for one day, brought an instant response from my eighteen year old masculinity – tenting out the front of the boxers that I'd already reduced myself to. Their words, in chorus, had an equally rapid, but opposite, reaction. 'How long is it since you first started wearing our knickers?' Of course, I blustered and protested my innocence, feigning outrage at the mere suggestion of such an indignity. In truth, I could have answered them in minute detail – even down to the exact date on which I first plucked up the courage to obey a desire that had been growing within me for the best part of a year; ever since I'd first become aware of the straggly appearance of hair around the root of my cock. ********* Now thirteen years ago, five years and two-and-a-half months prior to the confrontation with my sisters, one month to the day after my thirteenth birthday, on the 29th January, being left on the house on my own for the first time – ostensibly to complete some school work that I'd already in fact finished – I entered Teresa's room to obey a desire that had been growing inside me for nearly a year; a desire gradually intensifying to the point of taking over every thing else I tried to think about or do. Since the onset of puberty shortly after my twelfth birthday, I had begun to take an increasingly prurient interest in my sisters' bodies, and in their clothes, particularly the more sophisticated underwear that Tamsin and, more recently, Teresa were beginning to assume. That interest soon included a nagging, niggling little thought, 'what would it feel like to actually wear my sister's panties?' Try as I might to dismiss it from my mind, that thought too increased and grew until it subsumed all else. So here I was, in my youngest sister's room daring myself to put an end to the torture. 'Just this once,' I thought, 'if I try some on this once, that'll be the end of it.' Little did I know! I decided that, if I was going to go through with this I'd better experience the whole gambit. First I removed all my own clothes, folding them carefully and placing them on the bed. Then, stark naked and with an increasingly insistent erection, I began to open and study my sister's underwear draws; I didn't want to be 'rumbled' and knew that the tidy Teresa would recognise any disruption if I didn't put everything back exactly as I found it. I sorted out three pairs of pants from the array in front of me: a pair of pail lilac school knickers, in interlock cotton with a gusset capable of withstanding a guided missile, let alone a set of exploratory male or female fingers; a pair of light cotton briefs, in a delicate printed floral print with a deep elasticated broderie anglaise trim around the waist and a matching narrow trim around each leg; and, a pair of fragile lacy, nylon panties the sight of which confirmed my twitching and jerking cock into a solid and stiff erection. In truth the school knickers didn't feel much different to my own discarded y-fonts, but they were the first pair of girl's knickers I'd ever put on and that fact alone was enough to make me caress my solidity through the heavy material. But I knew it wasn't enough. The light cotton briefs were better; the feel of the much more delicate material encasing my genitalia and the touch of the feminine trim around my waist and thighs inspired me to make my final experiment. As I pulled them up my legs around my flanks and thighs, and around my now throbbing and pulsing cock, the feel of those fragile lacy, nylon panties drove me to near ecstasy; I was unconscious of the movement of my hands downwards – but I became only to quickly aware of my plight as I caressed my cock through the delightful femininity into my first ever explosive orgasm, saturating the dainty lacy fabric with my outpouring! Trying not to panic, I thought it through. Retreating into the bathroom I removed my panties ... my sister's panties and washed them as thoroughly as I could in the wash basin using the available soap. Back in the bedroom, with own cock and thighs also washed, and dried, I sought out my sister's hair-drier and used it to carefully dry the garment. It was surprisingly easy, the flimsy material reacting swiftly to the hot blast of air As it became apparent that my brainwave was going to be successful I even had the nerve to reassume the delicate cotton briefs I 'tried on' before the panties! It didn't work of course; it wasn't 'a cure'. Nor did it stop at panties. One foray into my sister's wardrobe wasn't enough! With increasing regularity I manoeuvred occasions to be in the house on my own so that I could once again adorn myself in my sisters' underwear. Nor did I content myself with using only Teresa's clothes; soon, I was 'trying on' Tamsin's and even my mother's exotic sets of lingerie. Slips and half-slips, bras initially padded out with handkerchiefs but later with balled up pairs of panties, suspender-belts (garter-belts) and stockings all became grist to my mill; as on the first occasion, I schooled myself to be extremely careful to replace any and all of the clothes I used in the position in which I found them. After that first time, too, I was always extremely careful to avoid 'coming' into any of the panties, briefs or knickers I wore, ensuring that, at the first indicative feeling of 'pre-cum', I eased my cock out to continue 'wanking' it until I exploded into a large 'wod' of cotton wool that could then be flushed away. I soon found out my likes and dislikes, too. From the first I didn't take to tights (pantyhose); the constriction of the garment around my body precluded any movement of the other underwear I'd appropriated underneath and thereby obviated the soft pull of the delicate, lacy, silky material across my supercharged nerve endings. To this day, I can't understand why some women (and some men) like them. Neither did I like thongs (gee-strings) that were incapable of accommodating my cock in the front and worked their way into the crack of my behind at the back. I did and do like French knickers, particularly those with deep layers of lace on the loose leg that, if you lie on your back, falls away leaving a froth of lace around the root of a rampant erection. Arrayed in different sets of underwear, caressing my body through the delicate femininity, I paraded around the bedrooms admiring myself in whatever mirrors were available and always, eventually, masturbating myself to climax. I even adopted the habit of wearing a pair of either my sister's or my mother's high heeled shoes – fancying that they pushed my buttocks out into a more feminine shape – and became quite adept at moving around with the shortened step of a girl. Strangely looking back, until my sisters confronted me, I never progressed beyond wearing underwear – I never dressed fully. Also looking back on it all, it's seems a little surprising to me that I managed to keep my secret for as long as I did. ********* My sisters didn't take any notice of my protestations. 'Don't be silly,' Tamsin commented, almost wearily, 'we know you've been wearing our underwear.' Reaching forward she gave the legs of my boxer shorts a tug, sending them cascading down around my ankles. Before I could recover, or even protest, she twisted her fingers into my deep auburn pubic thatch. 'We've both found traces of these in our knickers!' She added. 'But ... but it's your own,' I spluttered, 'your hair is much the same as mine; your pubes must be the same, too.' Silently both my sisters unfastened their robes and shrugged them backward off their shoulders to reveal their naked glory – two slender necks and pairs of shoulders, two pairs of pert bullet tipped breasts, two slender waists and shapely hips, two pairs of trim legs and two clean pink slightly mounded pudenda; both of which were shaved completely clean. I know it's wrong to desire your sister, or sisters, but in the highly charged circumstances my cock again rose to full erection. 'Mum shaves as clean as we do,' Teresa said. 'She told us dad likes her to; he doesn't like getting hair in his mouth. Anyway, she's unlikely to borrow our clothes; certainly without telling or asking us. And dad's hair is black. That leaves you little brother ... or maybe I should say little sister!' Busted! I waited sullen, red faced and silent for their next move. 'Well, since you obviously want to be a girl,' my elder sister continued the conversation, almost as it was normal for the three of us to be standing stark naked talking about me appropriating my sisters clothes, 'we've decided to give you the chance. We, the three of us, are going to have a 'girlie' weekend; for the rest of the weekend we're going to help you to be a girl.' It was the Thursday before the Easter weekend; our parents wouldn't be back from visiting our maternal grandparents until the following Tuesday; I was on holiday from school, Teresa was home from University, Tamsin was off from work; for the rest of that day and the next four I was to become a girl – Thomasina, a supposed cousin. My sisters lead me into the bathroom and took me with them into the shower unit, a unit large enough to contain two in comfort and the three of us with a deal of intimacy I'd never shared with the two of them before – at least, not since I was about three. They not so much supervised my ablutions as proceeded to wash me thoroughly, all over; washing themselves and each other at the time. It was the first time I'd ever showered with girls and the fact that they were my sisters did nothing to abate the arousal brought about by the experience of watching water flowing freely down over such pleasing femininity, coursing over their shoulders and the slope of their breasts, watching it drip from their pert rigid nipples and running on down over their flanks and thighs and the soft sweet swell of their shaven pudenda; having their naked flesh pressing against mine, and being brushed by those same delicate but firm breasts and erect nipples. The two of them inspected my stalking erection with approval. 'Makes the next bit that much easier,' Tamsin said taking my rigid cock in her hand, as Teresa reached out of the cubicle for a tin of shaving foam and a razor. I supposed I'd anticipated it and had to admit to myself that my elder sister's use of the razor, in the deft removal of both my pubic and underarm hair, was exemplary. 'If you're going to wear our clothes,' she added as she shaved me clean, 'in future we don't want any more strangers left in our knickers!' Before we left the bathroom they inspected me critically for any other body hair, but didn't find enough to worry about; although they did make me shave my cheeks and chin. We all three of us have the pale slightly freckled complexion that accompanies auburn hair, none of us had ... or have any body hair worth speaking about. And my face is such that, even now, two shaves a week are enough to keep me respectable; three are enough, given my slender frame, to maintain a more than adequate femininity. Showered, shaved, dried and dusted with feminine smelling talc, I was then taken into Tasmin's room and the girls proceeded to dress me, and themselves, in my new persona. ********* A pair of neat breast forms lay on the bed amongst an array of female underwear, Tasmin and Teresa had obviously planned the enterprise in some detail in advance. After fitting me into a delicate lacy nylon bra', the girls slipped a form into each cup and, for the first time, I had a proper looking bust-line – not one contrived of balled up handkerchiefs or panties. And, under their expert guidance and adjustment of the shoulder straps hands, my new bosom was perfectly placed. And for the first time the weight of the breast forms gave me an understanding of the different neck, shoulder and back muscles that girls have to use in supporting a pair of breasts. 'Stockings, or tights?' Teresa mused, more to herself than out loud, as she picked up a pair of matching, lacy panties. 'Stockings,' I said without thinking, 'I can't think why anyone would ever want to wear tights in preference.' My sisters looked at me quizzically. 'Oho!' Tasmin exclaimed. 'So you've had experience of both; and you know what you like. Well, I suppose you're allowed a say in what you wear – to a certain extent, at least. Stockings it'll be.' Teresa put down the panties and picked up the corresponding suspender-belt and that too was fitted around me, again properly adjusted for the first time, for the length and set of the stockings that were the next thing added. The continued proximity of the deliciously naked bodies of my two sisters and, I admit, the prospect of my body being once again wrapped in delectable femininity did nothing to assuage the ever more urgent and increasingly obvious arousal of my body. If I expected and desired either of my sisters to order me to lift a foot to step into my panties next, I was disappointed. Instead the both stood back and viewed me critically. Then, sitting me on a stool in front of the dressing table, they proceeded to experiment with make-up; applying different shades of foundation, blusher, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick until they were satisfied with what appeared to me be a rather understated result. Then, with equal intent, they addressed my hair until they'd achieved a satisfactory feminine sweep in my short locks. Next they turned their attention to my hands and applied cream and filed and buffed my nails until, again, they were satisfied. The image that now greeted me from the dressing table mirror was astounding. It was Thomasina's reflection, not Thomas's, that stared back at me. Even when I started to my feet the incongruity of a rigid, shaven, thrusting cock – framed over the top by the lacy panel of my nylon suspender-belt, at the sides by the satin straps of my suspenders and underneath by the lacy welt of my stocking tops – enhanced rather than detracted from the femininity of the image. The two girls, who had so far remained naked, now addressed their own costume. The lingerie my sisters had supplied for me, inclusive of the panties I still awaited, was in a delicate shade of lemon. There were two similar sets on the bed in pale green and a soft silver blue. Tamsin started to dress in the green set, Teresa in the blue. As they had with me, they dressed themselves in bra', suspender-belt and stockings and sat to apply make-up and dress their hair. Still pantyless, like me, they stood and, moving one each side of me, guided me to the large mirror on the wardrobe and there was reflected the image of three slender young woman, all auburn haired, much of a height, pale slightly freckle dusted complexioned, dressed alike in delicate lacy nylon – even if the one in yellow still sported a raging erection. Well, I suppose that the image of the central figure was not quite so much that of a young woman as that of one of the pretty, feminine Thai ladyboys that you can see on the internet. 'We're going to have to do something about that before you can put your panties on,' Tasmin said, with reference to my throbbing and insistent erection. So saying she squatted down in front of me with her legs apart, thus offering me an uninterrupted view of the sweet slightly parted lips of her vagina with the discernable swell of an engorged clitty showing through. The first time I'd actually seen one 'in the flesh', so to speak. Careless of my fascinated gaze, my sister took my cock in her hand and, opening her mouth, guided it in. My first 'blow job'! Expertly, my sister began to suck, sliding her teeth, tongue and lips on the barrel and tip of my shaft until I exploded in a massive outburst that, continuing to suck, she swallowed with every appearance of relish. And still she continued to suck and manipulate my cock until she'd drained me completely – and my now completely deflated masculinity lay limply between her lips. 'Should be okay now,' she said, as she stood up. The two girls led me back into the bathroom where they carefully washed and dried my genitalia, and liberally powdered me with the same talc they'd used before; and Tasmin washed her mouth out. Only then did they lead me back into the bedroom and finally add the matching lacy nylon panties to my ensemble – adding their own to theirs at the same time. Always before, the assumption of panties pulled deliciously up around my thighs, flanks and genitals had been a signal to my body for renewed arousal. This time my deflated cock lay completely dormant, not even a twitch, so complete had been my sister's ministrations. The signs of careful preparation persisted. My sisters added matching slim, lace trimmed short half-slips to our costume, then long sleeved, high necked cotton blouses in stripes of white pale and yellow, blue and green respectively; then slim fitting linen skirts, that reached to just above knees, in a darker shades of our basic costume; and, finally, three inch 'court shoes' the colour of our skirts. Three linen jackets, a match for each of our skirts, were all that now remained. After critical appraisal, and some adjustment of the set of my skirt, my sisters pronounced themselves satisfied. Teresa picked up the jackets and, between the two them, they shepherded me to the top of the stairs. Here-to-fore I had always confined my fantasy femininity to the bedrooms and bathroom; now I was confronted with the prospect of entering 'en-femme' into the outside world. My confidence was about to be tested to the utmost, but there was nothing for it – Thomasina was about to make her debut. Tasmin and Teresa were ready to face the great outdoors with Thomasina; Thomasina wasn't quite so ready! Thomasina Ch. 02 Thomasina: a Story of Transformation, Chapter 2 by frillypanty 2. Early adventures As indicated in Chapter 1 this is as near to being autobiographical as is consistent with writing fiction; most of these were real experiences, exaggerated perhaps and certainly set in a different time. Chapter 1 describes how Thomas's two older sisters confronted him with the knowledge that they knew he had been wearing their underwear, and with their decision to change him into a girl for the Easter weekend. Here-to-fore I had always confined my fantasy femininity to the bedrooms and bathroom: now I was confronted with the prospect on entering 'en-femme' into the outside world. My confidence was about to be tested to the utmost, but there was nothing for it -- Thomasina was about to make her debut. Tamsin and Teresa were ready to face the great outdoors with Thomasina; Thomasina wasn't quite so ready! For more than five years now I had been dressing myself in my sisters and, occasionally, my mother's underwear and high heeled shoes and disporting myself in front of their bedroom mirrors; with the necessary trip to the bathroom to clean myself after the resultant climax. In all that time I'd never even ventured down to the living rooms in the otherwise deserted house; I suppose that, subconsciously at least, I'd always thought that if I heard someone come in below I'd have time to lock myself in the bathroom, strip off my feminine finery and bury it deep in the linen basket, and plunge under the shower -- acting surprised if I subsequently encountered anyone on my way back to my bedroom. I could always clutch any shoes I'd been wearing and bring them out of the bathroom claiming to have discovered them 'in there'. Also, in all that time, I'd never attempted to try my hand at make-up or hair styling, or put on any exterior female clothing, contenting myself with dressing in the luxurious lacy lingerie that my two sisters and my mother had in their respective wardrobes. Now, having been challenged by my two sisters on the matter of their discovering my pubic hair in their knickers, I found myself totally transformed into a girl, by my sisters, and obviously about to be led into the 'great outdoors'. No wonder Thomasina wasn't quite as ready to make her debut as her sisters were to help her make it! The initial trip inland in Tamsin's car, to a favourite pub of our family, for a lunch that the girls had already booked was okay; at least in the car and travelling at normal driving speeds no-one could differentiate who the passengers where -- other maybe than three young women. It was when I stepped out of the car to enter the pub that the feeling started. I thought initially that I was feeling naked then I realised it was more as if all the clothes I wore, each different layer, had become successively transparent allowing everyone who saw us to know exactly what I was wearing, down to my lacy nylon panties, but being able to discern the obvious masculinity beneath. My poor cock, already suffering from the results of that first comprehensive 'blow job' given to me by elder sister, shrivelled up even more. Inside the pub after the landlady greeted Tamsin and Teresa and glanced inquiringly at me -- an inquiry that neither I nor my sisters reacted to -- and led Tamsin and I to our table, red faced doing my best to disguise my trembles, I tucked myself into the most inconspicuous seat. Teresa stayed at the bar to order drinks and brought them across where I was trying to make sense of the gibberish that the familiar menu had become. In the end, fortified somewhat by a couple of mouthfuls of the white wine spritzer that Teresa had supplied me with, I was able to order myself a seafood platter when the waitress appeared -- in as quiet and feminine a voice as I could manage. By the end of the meal I was beginning ... just beginning to feel slightly less of a spectacle. I nearly made a fool of myself by making automatically for the 'gents' toilet before we left, but was saved from that embarrassment by Teresa's hand in my back guiding me in the direction of the 'ladies'. Even there I still didn't think things through properly. Standing in the cubicle, I carefully hauled my skirt and underskirt up, slid my panties down far enough to free my cock and let go the stream. Above the noise of my discharge I could suddenly hear my sisters giggling. 'For heavens sake' Tamsin said, as we washed our hands, 'You're lucky we were the only ones in here! Think where you are! Girls don't make that racket when they pee. Remember you're a girl now, at least for the moment, and sit down! Apart from that, you're doing fine,' she continued. 'You're managing to move like a girl and you certainly don't look in anyway out of the ordinary except that, I have to say, you make a rather pretty girl at that, one whose bound to turn a few heads. By the way,' she added, almost as after thought, 'when did you learn to walk in heels?' It was then, as we departed from the pub and climbed into the car that I admitted just exactly how long I'd been dressing myself in their underwear and that, from an early stage I'd liked to add high heels to my ensemble. Now in a mood for confession, I also confirmed what they already strongly suspected that this was the first time I'd ever completed -- or rather, had been forced by them to complete -- the feminine transformation and ventured outside the security of own home. From the pub Tamsin drove us back out to Exmouth and managed to secure a parking spot along the sea front. Still with some trepidation I joined my sisters on the pavement for a walk along the esplanade. Buoyed up somewhat by Tamsin's previous encouragement I found that, gradually, I began to relax. People weren't staring at me and sniggering as I'd thought they would. Indeed, any looks I got were of a more interested and speculative nature. Perhaps my sister was right, maybe I was being regarded as 'a pretty girl'; if so it was as one of three for certainly both my sisters could be regarded as 'easy on the eye' -- worth at least a second look. A now it struck me that the choice my sisters had made for my costume, for my first outing, hadn't been purely fortuitous. Quite deliberately they'd decided that I should be one of three. We all wore slim fitting linen skirts that reached to just above our knees, with jackets and court shoes to match, over lacy nylon lingerie and stockings under candy striped blouses. My costume was in shades of yellow, Teresa's in blue and Tamsin in green. Altogether, from the approving glances we received, it became apparent that we presented a pleasing spectacle. But there is security in numbers, the three of us together rather inhibited any approach; it wasn't likely that anyone would try to 'pick us up'. With the feeling of relaxation I became aware of another sensation. Life was beginning to return to my cock! For the first time since I'd put them on the drag of the lacy nylon of my panties across it was stimulating arousal -- the reaction I was used to when, alone in an otherwise empty house, I'd dressed myself in delicate femininity; a reaction that I'd been missing till now due to Tasmin's earlier ministrations. I hoped that the weight and cut of my skirt would be sufficient to obviate any tendency to bulge if my erection grew much stronger. We finished our walk with a quick visit tom the railway carriage café that stood on the sea front, for coffee and carrot cake then made our way back to Tamsin's car. If I expected to be transported back to the relative security of home again, I was disappointed! Instead of stopping back in Exeter we continued on down to Totnes. The girls had booked seats for that evening's production of 'The Tempest' at Dartington. In other circumstances I would probably have enjoyed the production far more; played out in the round with a cast of graduate Exeter University students the comedy was both unusual and slickly performed. But, despite my sisters encouragement, I was still far too conscious of my situation to feel enough at ease to concentrate. At least when I visited the toilet I remembered to go into the ladies and to take the advice ... direction I'd been given, and sat down! ********* We finally arrived home at nearly midnight. 'Enough is enough for today,' Tamsin said. 'We decided we wouldn't go out 'clubbing' tonight. It's time for bed.' And the girls supervised my preparation for that event, too! Under their supervision, I undressed to my skin, disposed of my clothes into various draws, wardrobes, and the linen basket, as directed, sat down at Teresa's dressing table to remove my make-up, visited the bathroom to complete my ablutions and returned to Teresa's room where I was presented with a diaphanous, chiffon 'shortie nightie' and matching panties -- which I was informed would be the form that my nightwear would take for the duration. To do my sisters justice, at each stage in the proceedings they echoed my actions and, again, I was treated to the sight of their delicious, nubile nudity. At each stage, that is, until I was handed my nightie and panties. They, it seemed, intended to sleep naked as, I realised later, was their habit. Furthermore, they obviously intended to share a bed whilst I, for that first night at least, was sent to my own room. Wearing a nightie and panties to bed was another new experience. I'd never before contemplated doing so, even on those rare occasion when, more recently, I'd been home alone over night -- and my corresponding periods of wearing my sisters underwear had been accordingly protracted. Initially, as I lay in bed, the material that I was wrapped in felt almost non-existent; I could as well have been naked too. Initially but, as I lay there gradually relaxing and re-living my experiences, I became aware of a gossamer drag every time I moved that set an electric like shock to the supercharged nerve endings of my skin. In no time I had a stonking erection that Called for only one method of relief; as quietly as I could I made my way to the bathroom and wanked myself furiously to a massive eruption. After cleaning myself carefully and flushing away the traces, I set out to return to my room but was distracted by a noise from Teresa's room, a slight muffled groan in the back of a throat. Her door was partly open, pausing outside I peered through the opening only to be greeted by the sight of my sisters, both still naked, the bedclothes thrown back writhing on the bed, in a 'sixty-nine' position their faces buried in each others crotches. As I watched in fascination, my cock again incredibly solidifying and strengthening despite the recent massive climax I'd manipulated, the two girls ... young women raised themselves up on their knees facing each other, their bodies touching only at the bullet hard tips of their breasts and at their lips, and shared a long and tender kiss. My fascinated gaze continued and was rewarded by the sight of a glistening flow running down their chins. It was only then that I realised they were sharing the mouthfuls of honey musk that each had gleaned from the others vagina. Their kiss at last completed, their own body nectar shared, Teresa sat back slightly onto her haunches and bent to take the extended stalk of Tamsin's right nipple between her lips and teeth. As I watched it also became apparent that Teresa, the younger but the slightly taller and marginally heavier of the two, was the more proactive partner in their relationship. After gently kissing and caressing her older sister's breasts, shoulders and upper arms for a while she guided Tasmin to lie on her back, assisted her in spreading her legs and, with her fingers, eased the lips of her shaven vagina apart to give her access to apply her lips, tongue and teeth to her perineum, her clitty and the inner labia and the well of her maidenhood. I'm not sure how long I stood there, my erection now fully re-established and tenting out the front of my chiffon panties and nightie, watching my sisters make love in only the fashion that two women can, but eventually I left the scene and returned to my own room to lay back in bed and gradually drifted off to sleep my cock clutched firmly in my hands through the light gossamer caress of my nightwear. ********* For a few moments the next morning I had difficulty registering exactly where I was and why I was clad in such gossamer femininity; then I recalled the events of the previous day. I rose with anticipation, wondering what my sisters had in store for me that day, Friday, Good Friday. The two of them where already stirring and, even as I climbed out my bed, they entered my room -- both still naked and glowing from their shared night of passion. 'Come on little brother ... or should I say little sister,' Tamsin addressed me, 'time to get up and get moving. Morning service starts at ten-thirty and there's the parade of witness first at ten past.' I was more than a little startled. Had our parents been at home for Easter our mother, at least, would have expected us to attend church but, in the circumstances, I'd rather expected that church would be off the agenda. Not so, apparently. I assumed, that now being the case, my transformation would be 'on hold' at least until our return at the end of the morning. Wrong again! Teresa helped me strip off my nightie and panties and the girls led me into the bathroom. Tasmin squatted on the toilet to relive herself first, followed by Teresa; then they looked at me pointedly. Dutifully, I too relieved myself -- a necessity anyway -- being careful to squat on the seat, just as they had. As on the previous day, we shared a shower as they supervised my ablutions. As on the previous day, too, the proximity of their naked femininity in that confined space acted on my libido and, in no time, I was sporting a fine erection. Dried and dusted with feminine smelling talc I was led into Tamsin's room. There on the bed lay an assortment of underwear; three bras' and matching panties in delicate cotton print, trimmed with broderie anglaise, one half-slip that matched one of the bra' and panties sets and three pairs of tights. My disappointment must have shown in my face. 'Come on,' Tamsin said shortly, 'being a girl isn't all about strutting around in sexy knickers and suspender-belts. The clothes you wear have to suit the occasion.' It was then that it suddenly dawned on me that I was going to taken to church 'en-femme'. 'Er ... if we are going to church shouldn't I be dressed in my normal clothes?' I asked. 'If by "normal clothes" you mean Tom's normal clothes, the answer in no!' Teresa's reply was short. 'As far as Thomasina is concerned these are your normal clothes!' So saying, I was handed the matching set that contained the half-slip and, as before, the girls helped me into my bra, adjusted it properly and inserted my breast forms, before allowing me to don panties, tights and half slip. They then put on their own bras', panties and tights before they led me downstairs to breakfast -- the three of us thus arrayed. After breakfast they again applied my make-up and dressed my hair, and completed their own, before we assumed our outer clothes: blouse, skirt, woollen jacket and court shoes for me; neatly cut jeans, blouses, jackets and flat shoes for them. For a while, as I had anticipated, wearing tights that pressed my light underwear against my masculinity stifled any arousal. But, as I walked in procession from our church to the chosen venue for that year's Good Friday combined service I became conscious of a different kind of arousal -- that of knowing that those around me in the parade, and the curious passers-by, assumed I was the girl I appeared to be, completely unaware of the unconventional secret I concealed in my panties. The thought had powerful aphrodisiac properties. My sisters had been greeted all around as we climbed out of the car and many curious glances had been taken in my direction, as I tried to retreat somewhat into the background. They introduced me as 'Thomasina, our cousin', which brought several remarks about my likeness to my cousin Tom. 'Certainly is ' my younger sister retorted. 'In fact we've said before, "Dress Tom in a skirt and a pair of knickers, and give him a pair of false boobs, and he'd be the spitting image of Thomasina".' This brought a few rather disapproving looks but a lot of chuckles from the assembled congregation. I did my best to join in the chuckles. The arousal raised by my perception of the thoughts of the assembly, had they only known my secret, made it extremely difficult for me to concentrate on the theme of the day. But nothing lasts forever and eventually we left the church and made our way home. After a light lunch my sisters proposed a trip to Dartmoor without any expectation that I would, or could, in any way demur. Their one suggestion was that I change our footwear for a pair of reasonably stout flat 'lace-ups', like the ones they'd worn that morning, and that we all three wore heavier jackets. We drove out to Belever Tor, a favourite place of ours with walks by the river, through the woodlands and up onto the open moor to the top of the tor itself. We were not the only people there that fresh but bright Good Friday afternoon. And, as on the parade that morning, I was very aware of my secret identity -- an identity opposed to that which those we met [hopefully] assumed I was. The thought was quite pleasing and, as before, arousing and before long I found myself trying to control a raging 'hard-on' under my assumed femininity. I think, looking back, that my efforts at concealment weren't as successful as I hoped; certainly my two companions glanced at me from time to time with looks of vaguely concerned amusement. At that time, thirteen years ago, both of my sisters were taller than me and. For women, rather more robustly built. They still are. As I've already said, Teresa is the tallest and biggest of the three of us, I am the shortest and slimmest. But, slenderness for a man is a different proposition to that for woman -- even then, and more so now, their clothes fitted me quite satisfactorily, given the need to adjust the odd bra' strap or suspender length. I still have the 'photo of the three of us taken that on Tamsin's camera, by someone we encountered on the top of the tor, and it shows three young women of obvious family relationship -- two in jeans, one in a skirt -- all three pleasing to the eye; the most feminine of the three being the one dressed in a skirt. I think it was posing for that picture that confirmed in me a real delight and consequent enthusiasm for the masquerade that my sisters had manoeuvred me into. From that moment on the top of the tor I was suddenly, wholeheartedly involved in the enterprise; a willing participant in the weekends pretence. ********* That night I shared a bed with my sisters and they included in their lovemaking. Both naked, with me again dressed in a diaphanous short nightie and panties, they tutored me in the arts and mysteries of feminine lovemaking -- showing me how to pay court to their whole bodies; not just to concentrate on breasts, nipples and vagina. They showed me how to kiss and caress, with the lightest of touches, all parts of their bodies from the top of their foreheads to their toes and the soles of their feet, and from finger tips to finger tips, back and front; and how to increase both the pressure and intensity of the kiss or caress as they built up anticipation in their bodies. They showed me how to work with my lips, teeth and tongue on their most vulnerable and erogenous areas and, at last, how to address my attention to the stimulation of their labia, clitty and vagina, to bring to fruition the climactic orgasms that the preceding foreplay had propagated. Thomasina Ch. 03 Thomasina: a Story of Transformation, Chapter 3 by frillypanty 3. Saturday girls As indicated in the earlier chapters, this is a fictionalised autobiographical story. As a teen-ager, my older sister and a female cousin (not a second older sister) discovered my addiction to cross dressing and compelled ... encouraged ... assisted me (I didn't need much compulsion or encouragement) in developing my feminine persona to an extent that enabled me to comport myself, in public, as a girl, without arousing any suspicions. I've compacted their training and our early adventures into a single, long weekend -- and it all took place much longer ago than my setting. Chapters 1 and 2 describe how Thomas's two older sisters confronted him with the knowledge that they were aware that he'd been wearing their clothes, and informed him that he was to be a girl for the rest of the Easter weekend. I apologise to any one who's been waiting for this latest episode (of Thomasina), I've had some health problems recently which have somewhat delayed things. I awoke to the unaccustomed feeling of sharing a bed with my two sisters; further, two naked sisters. Teresa the younger of the two, still two-and-a-half years older than me, lay in front of me, my body wrapped into hers, my arm around her with her breast clasped in my right hand. Tamsin, five years my senior, lay tucked in behind me, her breasts pressed against my back, her arm circulating my waist with her hand thrust down inside the waist-band of my panties grasping my cock -- and its consequent stalking morning erection. Early on, during our shared night together, my chiffon nightie had been abandoned; not so my matching panties. I'd retained them throughout my tuition into the secret arts of lesbian love making, rewarded eventually by my eldest sister taking my cock in her hands, chiffon panties and all, and taking my virginity -- riding me to explosive climax. In consequence, of course, my panties were now encrusted, inside and out, with the dried residue of both my own pulsating eruption and my sister's flooding climax. Tamsin is bi-sexual, Teresa not so. From the first, and in all my subsequent intimacy with my younger sister, our relationship has been one of a loving, sharing, caring but strictly lesbian affinity -- happy to repay my reverential lesbian homage to her femininity by fondling, caressing and even fellating my masculinity, she has never allowed me or any other man to possess her; in that respect she remains virgin. Tamsin on the other hand is happy to accede to, and is usually the instigator of, either homosexual or heterosexual intimacy ... or both at the same time. She delights most in the three of us sharing our bodies in every conceivable manner, subject to Teresa's refusal to allow the final act of heterosexual copulation. Tamsin's first act on awaking, was to give my cock a tweak and then to withdraw her hand from inside my panties. 'Hmm,' she commented, twanging the elasticised waist band, 'these could certainly do with washing!' So saying, she yanked the offending pantries down over my thighs, down over my legs and off my ankles. By now Teresa was also awake and watching the operation with interest and Tamsin sent us all scampering bollock naked ... well, me bollock naked at any rate, my sisters were displaying some rather more feminine attributes ... around the house picking up any discarded clothes and other items, for laundering. After the previous two days experience feminine underwear seemed to account for a pretty large proportion of the eventual load. The washing machine loaded and started we scampered back upstairs for our now accustomed mutual shower where, in the rather restricted cubicle, our naked bodies brushed up against one-an-other and I found myself increasingly stimulated and aroused by the constant contact of my sisters wet streaming breasts, nipples, thighs and buttocks. It's a strange thing but women, when they shower, are inclined to turn inwards towards the shower head as though to protect their vulnerability. Men, on the other hand turn outward -- displaying their potency? In my new role as a member of the opposite gender, I found I was copying my sisters and turning inwards. Anyway, shower completed, suitably dried and dusted with feminine smelling talc and wrapped in light, virtually transparent, lace be-decked negligees, we repaired to the kitchen for breakfast: after which Teresa and I were sent out into the back garden, still in our dishabille, to 'peg out' the now completed laundry. Again, the preponderance of feminine underwear was readily apparent.