My Sister Ivy Part 8 (Patreon)

Ivy's in big do-do!

My Sister Ivy Part 8

Standing over me, I can feel Ivy's intense judgment of my every move. I’ve been practicing my makeup every night, yet she still doesn’t trust me to do it myself.

“Like this…?” I ask, slowly and carefully sliding the mascara brush over my eyelashes.

“More wiggle,” Ivy answers firmly.

“I am wiggling it!” I reply in tired frustration.

“Not enough, Jordan,” Ivy says impatiently, folding her arms tight. “I knew I should have just done this look myself.”

Feeling my blood pressure rising, I stop applying the maraca. Slowly sliding the cap to the mascara back on, I place it gently onto her vanity desk.

This was supposed to be fun. I get to crossdress and feel good, she gets a model for her makeup looks. This has deffo gotten all too serious!

“What are you doing Jordan?” Ivy scolds, picking up the mascara. “You know we need to get this shoot done quickly. I told you I’ve gotta get down the gym!”

Turning in my seat, I look up at Ivy. I can see the frustration written across her face.

“What's so important about the gym Ivy?” I ask, having to brush long hair from my eyes. “You’ve gone every day this week and you won’t tell any of us why it’s so important.”

“Nothing to do with you,” Ivy answers, unable to hide the angry tone in her voice. “I just need you to hurry up and finish your makeup, then pose for me like a good girl without all these questions!”

“I’m doing my best Ivy,” I reply innocently, getting a little upset with her lack of patients with me. “Look at my hair for goodness sake. Do you know how many questions I get in the boy's locker rooms at the moment! I’m making so many sacrifices for you and your followers!”

Ivy tuts, folds her arms tight, and looks away. I just stare at her in disbelief, unsure why we are arguing so much. I’m doing my best to keep up with everything that’s happening! I thought she’d be more understanding—having been the person who discovered this side of me.

“If only you knew what I’m going through,” Ivy says bitterly, under her breath.

“What?” I ask, scrunching my face in confusion. “Is there something you want to tell me, Ivy? Clearly somethings bothering you!”

“Shut up Jordan,” Ivy says, reacting petulantly.

Stunned, my mouth drops at her attitude toward me. I’ve spent all morning with her doing my hair, and makeup and getting into moms old cheerleader outfit and this is how she talks to me?

“Why are you being like this?” I ask, holding back the tears. “I’m just trying to find out why you’ve been so snappy recently. Why aren’t you being supportive anymore?”

Ivy looks down at me and I can see the rage brewing in her eyes.

“You don’t think I’m being supportive!?” she growls. “I’ve been the only one in this family supporting you! If it wasn’t for me, you’d have dropped all this after that first conversation with dad!”

My lip quivering, I continue to hold in the tears.

“Ivy!?” I whine, having to look away from the fury in her eyes. “I…h-hate it when you’re like this! You’re not supporting me…you’re just being mean!”

“Oh do you?” She responds with condescension.

I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say and with all the weight I’ve lost in my arms, I don’t wanna have a tussle with her either.

As awkward seconds pass, I start fiddling with my freshly patined nails. Waiting for her to calm down.

“You know what?” Ivy says, breaking the silence. “I’ve had enough of this! I’ve had enough of feeling guilty!”

Just as I turn to ask her what she feels guilty about, she throws the mascara in her hand across the room. As it smacks against the wall, Ivy storms out of her room, slamming the door behind her.

“Ivy..,” I say, jumping up from the stool to follow her “IVY…wait! I’m sorry!”

Throwing open the door, I see her rushing downstairs. Chasing after her, I bundle down the stairs after her. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I have to swipe her from my face and pull down the short skirt of my cheerleader uniform.

As I regain my composure, Ivy is standing at the front door putting her trainers on.

“Ivy..,” I say desperately trying to gain her attention. “Where are you going? What about the photo shoot?”

Ivy doesn’t reply. She finishes sliding on her shoes and opens the front door. Just as she’s about to leave the house, she stops and looks back at me over her shoulder. I can see the tears in her eyes and the sadness behind them

I want to tell her to stop, but I’ve never seen her look so upset. I feel so guilty I’ve upset her after everything she’s been doing for me.

“Don’t follow me,” Ivy says regretfully, unable to look at me for longer than a second.

Before I can even say a word, she storms out of the house and slams the door behind her. I’m left standing in the hallway, in my mother's cheerleading outfit, stunned.

“Jordan…?” Mom says, appearing behind me. “What's all the commotion? Is Ivy making up stories again about cats following her?”

Slowly turning on the spot, tears now bubbling behind my eyes, I shake my head. “I…don’t know what I did.”

Mom looks up at the door, then glances back down at me concerned. Running her hand through my long hair, she soon turns her attention to her old uniform adorning my male body. She touches the skirt, then touches my sides.

Looking at the obvious mounds on my chest, made more realistic by my bra, she frowns.

“Do you’re nipples still itch Jordan?” She asks.

They do. So, I say nothing as mom continues to study me. She moves her hand to my chin and gently feels my skin with her fingers.

“So soft,” she remarks, then lifts my face to look at her. “I think we need to have a chat Jordan.”

“About Ivy?” I ask, wiping away my tears of guilt.

Letting go of my face, Mom steps past me. “No,” she answers, “Please, come into the kitchen. I want to ask you a few questions.”

My shoulders sagging, I reluctantly follow mom into the kitchen and perch myself onto a counter stool. The skirt I’m wearing barely covers my legs and I can feel the cold metal of the stool through my thin underwear.

“I’m….,” mom says, but pauses as she stands on the overside of the counter, looking directly at me. “Not sure how to bring this up with your Jordan, so I’m just going to say it.”

Now extremely worried I’ve upset mom too, I look away from her stare and down at my skirt.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the changes to your body Jordan,” Mom says, her voice tainted with worry. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

Not expecting that, I look up at her in fear.

“W-what do you mean?” I ask, pulling out the strap of my bra to show her. “My chest is not real mom—it’s a push-up bra.”

Mom rubs her face. “It’s not just a bra though is it Jordan?”

Sighing, she leans against the counter and looks down at the floor. “I saw you getting out of the shower the other morning.”

“Oh,” I answer as she looks up at me concerned.

“What I saw really frightened me Jordan,” she explains, looking deep into my eyes. “My little boy’s body is changing. You’ve lost weight mass from your shoulders, yet gained it around your thighs and backside. Your voice is softer and lighter and your skin is so delicate. That’s not to mention the obvious budding chest.”

I let go of the bra strap knowing she’s not wrong. I’ve been desperately trying to hide my body from her and everyone, but Ivy.

“Look,” she says sternly, reaching across the counter to touch me gently on the arm. “We all know about your crossdressing Jordan. I hoped you’d come out to us in your own time, but I have to step in now. I don’t see my little boy anymore. I see a young girl sitting in front of me.”

They Knew!?

Tears start streaming from my eyes. I do my best to swipe them away, but I can’t control my emotions anymore. I don’t know what to think anymore! It’s all too much!

“Look at you Jordan. You wear that uniform better than I ever did,” mom says gently. “You look incredibly feminine! Tell me the truth. Have you been secretly taking hormones?”

No way can I tell her the truth! “N-no…,” I sob.

“Jordan,” Mom tuts in response. “I need you to be honest with me. I don’t think you understand how dangerous it can be unsupervised by a doctor. Breast tissue doesn’t go away. Once it’s there, it’s always there.

I feel my jaw tense up and hurt as my emotions get the better of me. Tears now streaming down my face, and I can barely talk.

“Sweety…,” mom continues to talk, gently touching my arm. “I can see how upset you are. Just tell me the truth and I can help you.”

Rubbing at my sore eyes, I look up and just give her a single nod.

“Hunny,” Mom gasps in reaction. “You silly little thing—look what you’ve done to your body! Where did you even get them from?”

I don’t wanna tell her Ivy’s been giving them to me. No way do I want Ivy to be mad at me, especially after our fight just now. So I just shake my head.

“Jordan,” Mom says, her voice stern and uncompromising.”I need you to tell me. The more I know, the more I can understand what you are thinking.”

“Ivy…,” I squeak, feeling a deep sense of betrayal toward my sister.

“Your sister?” Mom asks, her voice slightly raised and angry. “Is that the truth…Ivy’s been giving you hormones?”

My shame won’t let me answer. I’ve just thrown my sister to the wolves. I just give mom a single nod.

“That girl is in so much trouble!” Mom screams, slapping the table with her palm. “I thought she’d been acting suspicious recently. That explains why she’s at the gym so much—I bet that's where she’s getting them. Am I right?”

Looking up at my mom through the tears, I see the anger written across her face.

“I’m going to get her right now!” Mom exclaims, slapping the counter again. “She’s in deep do-do!”

“M-mom…,” I squeak, desperate to stop her. “I….I…..I…..,”

“What is it Jordan?” she replies impatiently

I throw back the stool and stand. As it hits the tiled floor, I grip the marble counter tight with my fingers.

“I wanted this mom,” I shout in an emotionally filled rage. “Stop thinking I don’t understand what's happening to my body! It’s my body and my choice!”

A little taken back, mom’s mouth drops as she leans away from me. “What are you saying Jordan?” she asks.

“I’m telling you this makes me happy!” I growl, allowing the tears to fall from my face. “Yes Ivy tricked me into taking hormones at first, but I’m not stupid mom. I soon realized what was happening and I’m ok with it! Please don’t blame Ivy!”

“Jordan…,” mom replies with a stressful exhale.

“Blame me!” I plea, as my heart, thuds deep in my chest. “Blame me for not telling you all about how I really felt as a boy! I hate being me, mom! I want to be like Ivy!”

“You hate…..being a boy?” Mom asks, compassionately. “Oh, sweety. Why didn’t you say anything! I thought I was being a good mother, waiting for you to come out on your own about your crossdressing.”

She rushes over and embraces me tight. Throwing her arms around me, I can’t help but feel better as I press my face into her shoulder.

“I don’t blame you,” mom says, holding me tighter. “I only blame myself for not having the courage to talk to you about it. I’m gutted I didn’t see this sooner Jordan! I’m so so sorry!”