Lost Luggage
Keywords: Lost, Luggage,
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As usual my mum took great delight in telling my new girlfriend the lost luggage story. I took Clare to her house for Sunday lunch and told mum specifically not to embarrass me with any of my childhood stories or old photographs. She was on her best behaviour during the meal but afterwards as we sat down in the lounge for coffee she was true to form. She quickly began talking about my schooldays and previous girlfriends and egged on by Clare, keen to learn my past mum was soon showing those embarrassing baby and early school photos.
The holiday to Spain was inevitably mentioned and I shivered with apprehension. Why she had to keep choosing that story I never knew. If only she could remember how I scored a goal in football, was top of my class in maths and English, caught the biggest fish at the young anglers competition or how I was incredibly popular and liked by everyone. No, she had to rake up the Spanish lost luggage story.
With her old holiday photo album on Claire's knees, mum began flicking through the pages as if we had just returned despite it being over fifteen years ago.
I tried to stop her but it was hopeless.
'Who's that?' Clare asks pointing to a photo of two cute young girls on park swings in pretty summer dresses.
'Why shame on you. Can't you guess? That's Lucy,' mum says pointing to the little girl in canary yellow. '...And the beautiful girl in bubblegum pink is...' she paused as if gathering dramatic effect, 'someone very close to you.' Mum looks at me and grins proudly. A hot sweaty feeling washes over me and I turn beetroot red. I look towards Clare dejectedly as a paralysing sense of decorum stops me from defending myself in anyway.
'You're kidding me?' Clare squeals. 'That's you, all pretty in pink.'
I nod, blush and consider bolting for the door but if left alone there is no telling what my mum will tell. Clare's intrigued and holds the album closer for a better look.
'My goodness,' she says, 'you do look like sisters. I can see its you easily now.' she giggles sweetly but to my surprise Clare doesn't laugh meanly as most of my girlfriends had done in the past but touched me reassuringly on my arm and smiled.
'Yes,' mum explains excitedly. 'I knew the moment he was born that he should have been a girl. '
I wince and wish she would shut up but to my amazement Clare seems genuinely interested and her eyes egg my mum on.
'The dress is gorgeous. I would have loved to have worn it myself.' Clare gushes. 'You must have felt so special, like a princess.'
'I felt a total prat,' I grumble but the ladies weren't listening.
'I have to ask,' Clare says turning to mum as if I wasn't there, 'how on earth did you manage to get him to wear this beautiful dress.'
She laughs. 'It wasn't easy despite the obvious look of joy on his lovely face. The dress was his sisters,' mum adds flicking casually through the album pointing out all the other shots of me wearing her clothes. I squirm forgetting she had taken so many. There was me in short skirts, pleated skirts, underwear and tops and countless pretty dresses. They even had a picture of me playing on the beach in a flowery bikini. Not one picture showed me unhappy. In fact I looked totally comfortable in my new wardrobe and knew I was going to have some serious explaining to do.
Mum taps a photo of me in a pretty sleeveless dress that finished just above the knee that made my legs look incredibly long and slender. 'We where lucky in a way that his sisters clothes fitted otherwise we would have had a problem.'
Clare looked confused and went to ask a question but mum continued.
'I stupidly put everyone's things in separate cases. Mine, Lucy's and his, three cases in all. I thought they could help carrying them. The airline stupidly lost his case on the way out. Things have improved now but back then it was a miracle anything arrived at all. They promised to forward it on to our hotel when it was found. I assumed it would only be a day and I couldn't afford to buy him a new wardrobe.' She looked at me like a mother does to a son. 'To make matters worse he had spilt dark chocolate ice cream all down his only pair of trousers on the plane so he had to borrow something from Lucy. I wasn't going to sit in our bedroom waiting for his things when we where only there for a week.'
Clare smiled understandably. 'When did your case turn up?' she asked.
'It didn't.' I growled, 'not until a week back in the UK and...' I wanted to explain more but
Mum laughed and cut me dead. 'That's why there's so many pictures of him in Lucy's lovely clothes. He spent the whole week as a gorgeous young girl.' She sighed. 'He took to it like a duck to water and he assumed another personality altogether.' She sighed as
every tiny detail came flooding back like the morning tide. 'It wasn't all plain sailing. He behaved like a spoilt little girl initially. He stamped his feet and yelled so loud I thought the hotel might complain. But once in that dress and he felt the skirt brush against his thighs and the cool air blew round his legs he was a convert. He not only dressed as a young girl his total persona changed. I do believe for the seven days we where in Spain he mentally became a beautiful young girl. He spoke sweetly like girl, walked daintily like a girl, played gently like a girl and of course dressed beautifully like a girl.
Clare now laughs but not in a cruel way and again she touches me reassuringly.
'I'll never forget it.' mum continues, 'He was beautiful. They complemented each other so much. It was like having two pretty daughters.'
I cringed at the memory and looked at Clare who to my horror was sparkling with interest like a student at her favourite lecture.
'He didn't like it at first.' mum continued. 'The first evening meal was the most painful. I had to literally force him into a dress. He put up quite a struggle, yelled real loud and cried like a baby but I managed eventually and dragged him kicking and screaming downstairs.'
As mum talked I began to recall the events. Slowly at first, but as she went on more and detail became clear like a lifting fog and with the clarifying memory my cock began to stiffen with excitement. I remember vaguely feeling reeled in, like a fish exhausted by its battle against the angler.
Mum points to another photo of me holding an ice cream, wearing a light green A-line dress and tiny-heeled sandals. I have a huge smile on my face and it wasn't because of the ice cream.
'Lucy, his sister didn't help either she was most put out having to share her clothes with her brother but after a day or so she grew accustomed to him in skirts and they played together quite happily.'
Clare looked at mum aghast. 'You kept in skirts for days? The hotel didn't notice and the other guests said nothing?'
She grinned almost proudly. 'Why should they. He looked so angelic and pretty. In fact from what I can recall Lucy and Beatrice, as that's what I called him, made lots of little girlfriends and they where both incredibly well behaved. I got loads of lovely comments from other parents. I can remember one family who had two little boys; the mother was so envious. She kept cuddling Beatrice, telling me how she wanted girls instead of boys. I almost told her about Beatrice's real gender but I decided it wasn't fair on him. Besides it was our holiday secret.' She laughed and throws me another smile. 'But can you imagine her face if she had known the truth. I wonder to this day what would have happened if she had dressed her two young ruffians in dresses.' She laughed again, this time louder. 'What would they have thought?' She poured us all another coffee and I put my head in my hands in dismay.
'It was a real adventure and I have to admit I didn't want his lost case to turn up. I liked him as a girl. Having two daughters was fun. It was a new experience for me as it was for him.'
Clare nodded as if in agreement and I felt beaten and unable to comment.
Mum oblivious to my discomfort went on and on in painful detail, nauseas detail recounting how I experimented with her make-up, wore her high heels and paraded about like a little madam as my confidence grew and grew.
Clare was fascinated and asked question after question extracting intricate detail. Wanting to know what I wore when, what I looked best in, how I wore my hair, what colours suited me and whether I showed my knickers in public. I couldn't believe she asked so many questions and as the evening came to a close I saw her in a frighteningly new light.
Clare was particularly interested in how I reacted when back in the UK.
'He was a little awkward at first.' mum recalls. 'The first night, he wanted to wear a night-dress and the following day as he and Lucy got ready for school he begged me to let him wear one of Lucy's pleated skirts.' She smirked. ' I couldn't of course, I don't think his all boys school would have approved but as a compromise I let him wear her frilly party knickers under his school trousers.'
Clare stared at me aghast her jaw almost touching the floor.
'I couldn't remember such detail. It was a long time ago.' I stutter.
'And when he got home,' mum added, 'he ran straight upstairs to Lucy's room. Then while I was getting tea ready unbeknown to me Lucy helped him undress and wear her uniform. The full works - skirt, blouse, tights, tiny bra and even her school knickers. Lucy thought it was hilarious. And from what I remember he found it terribly exciting.' she raised an eyebrow and the two women smirked knowingly.'
I blushed and my cock began to twitch as I felt blood rush into it like a raging river.
'Weren't you worried?' Clare asked.
'No, not really.' I explained that he couldn't wear a dress because he was a boy. I felt guilty for dressing him up like a girl on holiday but again I did sympathise.' She sighs and plays with the hem of her own dress. 'You must know how nice it is to wear pretty feminine things, to be treated as special and to flirt.
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Keywords: Lost, Luggage,