Thomasina Ch. 02

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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 sex hikayeleri 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 porno hikayeleri 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 seks hikayeleri 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.

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