Boy Chick -3- Mom (Patreon)

Mom had no shame. We went directly to my sister’s room and Mom began opening closets and pulling out drawers.

Right away, she went through Joanie’s lingerie drawer and handed me a pair of silky pink panties with ruffles on the back and lace on the front. “These are size 3,” she said. “She may think she can still wear them, but they’re two sizes too small. They’re yours, put them on.”

I didn’t hesitate, my boy shorts came down and the ruffled pink panties went up. To guard against anything happening, I folded Carlita so she pointed backward and pulled the panties snug to keep her there. Her two companions easily went up inside me. I did that a lot, even when wearing boy undies, but never with such a pretty pair of panties.

Mom handed me some bangly bracelets, a necklace of beads and a clip for my hair and I put all those on too. I loved the rattly sound the bangles made. She went through the recycled cottage cheese container in one drawer that held Joanie’s collection of dying lipsticks and picked two of them out for me. 

I had done this before myself but it had been a few weeks. I took the one labeled, “Glistening Plum,” and used the mirror to help me put it on. My hands were steady, it was only my insides that quivered. Mom was helping me, how cool was that?

Mom looked me over and nodded. “You won’t embarrass me, grab your bag and we’ll go down to SanDee for a day of it. You do have a bag?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I agreed and dashed back to my room to snag it, mauve and purple striped nylon with a long strap. Joanie had discarded it after the strap separated from the body but I had repaired it with some dark nylon thread and superglue. You could hardly see the repairs. Joanie had lots of other bags, but she was just lazy. It was a perfectly usable bag.

I got the giggles just about then, from sheer excitement I guess. Better to get them out of the way before going out in public so I let them rip, such a bunch of high-pitched hees and yips, you don’t hear every day.

Then I joined Mom in the car, still giggling under my breath, and soon we were headed south on I15. We wouldn’t go all the way to the city but there were plenty of malls in North San Diego, ones we didn’t usually shop in because Escondido was closer.

But I should explain where we lived. If you start north from downtown San Diego on the inland route, you’re still in the city for half an hour. Then when you take the exit for the Wild Animal Park, turn left instead of right, drive along the lake and in five minutes you’re in Ramsay Shores. It’s not part of Escondido even though on a map it looks as if it is. I guess they call it ‘Shores’ because of the lake but the water is like more than a mile away.

It’s a nice place to live, a little humid on hot days in the summer with the lake so close but there were picnic areas, tennis and basketball courts and a public pool in a little park not far from our house. One of my daydreams was to go to the park in a bikini, with flip flops and a big pink straw hat and a towel to lie on where the boys could see me.

Mom kept glancing over at me after we got out of our subdivision. Finally, while we were waiting at a red light, she said. “You look just like Joanie did three or four years ago.”

I grinned at her. I wanted to look like Joanie. She was beautiful and popular and all the guys wanted to date her.

Then she hit me with the zinger. “You’re just as flat-chested as she was.”

“Mom,” I squealed and she laughed. She made the turn onto the freeway ramp and we were zooming south toward the city. Well, I say, zooming, but really, Mom always drove the speed limit because it would embarrass my dad for her to get stopped.

After a moment Mom asked, “Do you want us to get something to help with that? Being flat-chested like a boy? How much of a girl are you wanting to look like?”

I squirmed a bit. Yes, I was being a traitor to the whole male race (okay, I know being male is not a race, but also, almost nothing else is either), still I wanted to look like any other girl. Well, any other pretty girl. I didn’t want to be a skag! And being flat-chested was definitely skaggy.

“Please,” I said. “Joanie was younger than me when she got her first training bra.” And don’t think I didn’t notice. That’s when we had to stop sharing a bedroom.

Mom nodded. “Why haven’t you stolen one of those? You’ve gotten at least one of everything else.” She laughed.

“Mo-om!” I said. “Bras are underwear. By the time Joanie stopped wearing them, they were old and worn out and…and stinky. I didn’t steal any of her old panties, either!”

She laughed even harder and I started giggling, too. “I gave you a pair,” she pointed out. Traffic was light so she could glance over at me and grin.

“Uh huh, but you were right, they had hardly been worn at all. They must have been too small for her when she bought them. So I need my own,” I suggested. “Bras and panties?” I still couldn’t believe this—Mom was all right with me wanting to dress like a girl even down to underwear? It sure seemed so.

She was nodding, an encouraging sign. “We’ll do that first then,” she said. “So you can be wearing a padded bra when you try on clothes. For the fit.”

Try on clothes? I couldn’t sit still. This just kept getting better and better. My squeal must have gone hypersonic.