When I was little, my mother was always fussing over me. She would caress and brush my hair and gently dry me after my daily bath. She loved to lay out pretty lace panties for me to wear and I loved the silky smooth feel of the nylon against my skin. Whenever she dressed me up as a girl in pretty dresses, I was thrilled at my appearance. No-one would guess there was a boy under all those frills and petticoats. This happened many times as I grew up. Then one day she said to me: "I think you are ready to become a big girl. It's time for me to dress you up as my pretty teenage daughter." First, she bathed me in perfumed water and shaved my legs. When I was dried off, she fashioned falsies by hooking me up into an uplift bra and breast forms. From her top drawer she produced a panty girdle to flatten out my V and a pair of her most gorgeous pink lace panties which she had me wiggle into. They looked like they were made just for me. Next came a garter belt with six garters and a pair of nude seamed stockings. I slowly peeled them up my smooth legs and fastened the tabs. The hose felt tight and taut and I could tell my legs looked incredibly sexy. Next came the makeup ritual. Foundation, contours, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, blush and a pair of bright red, pouty lips. Mother stood back, pleased with her handiwork. "No-one will ever know," she decided. Now she lowered a silk slip over my head, smoothing it out as it drifted down. "Next comes a pretty frock." She rummaged around in her voluminous wardrobe and came out smiling: "This will do nicely." It was a beautifully made red designer dress made from brushed cotton. The bodice had two rows of running lace and the sleeves billowed out from the shoulders narrowing at the wrists, fastening with white buttons. The skirt was pleated and quite swishy. After I had slipped it on, it felt a bit snug but my mother said it looked perfect and that she had lots of dresses she would fix up for me. On the top shelf of the wardrobe was a row of wigs. "I think you should be a blonde", she decided, selecting a coiffure of bangs and long, curly locks cascading down the back. Hooped earrings and silver bracelets on my wrists completed the styling. Now came the piece de resistance: my shoes. I slipped my stockinged feet into shiny red heels, stacked, open toed with five-inch stiletto heels and at first I could only totter around the room. With practice, I soon mastered the toe-to-heel gait and I felt it giving me a sexy hip-sway. Mother now stood me up in front of the cheval mirror. "Look at yourself, you gorgeous creature." I was entranced, thrilled at the amazing transformation. I had become to all intents and purposes a very pretty girl. Mother just grinned: "How do you feel, honey." "I didn't know I could look so beautiful," I told her. "Then it's time to show you to the world." And so, a pair of gorgeous, glamorous women - mother and daughter - strode out into the bright midday sun. It was off to the mall.
Fin
Cute gorgeous