Return Home (ff)

[Hell №2 (GUEST)]

The Return Home
by
Daphne





(I wrote this and distributed it online several years ago ... it"s a bit dated and has hints of autobiography within ... I"ve rewritten it a bit, fixing this and that ... still, it is a sweet story, and I hope you enjoy it.)




David frowned as he listened to the voices in the living room; the corners of his mouth turned downward with the sound of each laugh, with each giggle, and the pain of frustration forced his lips to tremble and his eyes to water. He tried to ignore his feelings as he prepared the tea tray, but his efforts did little good. Laura was in the living room with his stepmother, and he didn"t like the way things were going.


It had been nearly two years since he had left home, and of all the places in the world he could have been, he couldn"t figure out why he was back. He"d wanted to leave this place behind forever -- along with its memories, both good and bad -- but Laura had insisted they visit, if only this once. She said it would do them both good; she didn"t want to pry into his life, but she wanted to know more about him and, in order to do this, she argued, she needed to meet his stepmother.


Why couldn"t the past stay in the past? David thought to himself. I"m nineteen years old, I"ve got a part-time job, I"m living on my own ... and I"m even going to college. Isn"t that enough?


Even though he was pouting as he arranged the cups and saucers on the tray, for an instant he felt a faint wave of pleasure -- as subtle as a summer breeze -- as the china rang together in a musical clatter. The additional chiming of the silver spoons reinforced the unwanted smile, and he suddenly remembered how that sound affected him when he was a little boy; it always meant something special was going to happen ... something that he had little if any control over. Now that he was so much older, it brought back a flood of forgotten memories. His face flushed as he thought of the number of times he had done exactly what he was doing at that very moment and how, as much as he now hated to admit it, he had so enjoyed himself.


His smile faded slightly as he turned toward the kitchen door. The women"s voices were quiet now; maybe things weren"t as bad as he suspected. He thought for a moment. Could he really trust Margery not to say anything that might embarrass him? She"d made a promise, but somehow her promises never seemed to work out the way he wanted.


Nervous and frustrated, the youth tried to force another smile as he picked up the tray and began walking toward the door. He swallowed long and hard before proceeding into the dining room. Beyond there, his stepmother and his ladyfriend would be sitting together in the living room, talking and waiting for him to bring the tea. He trembled slightly and wished for this day to be over.


As he entered the living room, David saw the two women sitting together on the sofa, side by side, chatting as though they were old friends. The ringing of delicate china against china announced his entrance, causing the two women in his life to look over and smile at him in a way that he found frightening.


"There he is," his stepmother said, her voice dripping like honey. "My favorite boy, right on cue."


"Our favorite boy," Laura added with a sweetness that rivalled her companion"s.


David marvelled at how, after all these years, his stepmother looked the same as always; dressed up in an expensive yet conservative dark suit, her hair done up in an elegant sweep and with just a hint of jewelry, she remained just as intimidating as he remembered. Laura, he noticed for the first time, was similarly attired. In fact, he realized just then how much the two looked alike. It was mostly in their smiles, he thought; mischief and trouble seemed to flow from their lips and eyes.


Beautiful and lovely, Laura was more than eight years older than David, closer in years to his stepmother than to him. He had met her in psychology class at college and they immediately became close friends. Recently divorced, she had returned to school to finish the degree she had started before marrying. He found her very easy to talk with, mostly because she didn"t intimidate him like girls his own age. More importantly, she told him that he was a fascinating person; she was very sincere about this, and he was touched by her gentle interest and compassion.


Because of the trust that grew between them, it wasn"t long before he confided part of his terrible, shameful secret with his new friend. What he told her wasn"t completely the truth, but it was the only version of the truth that he thought she would accept. Her reaction, surprisingly enough, was one of complete understanding and their relationship seemed to grow even stronger. While David hadn"t noticed it at first, this was the same kind of acceptance he had gotten from his stepmother once upon a time.


Approaching the two women, the teenager tried to ignore his fears and he smiled with what little confidence he had remaining. That is, he smiled until he saw a huge photo album laying face down on the coffee table, as if someone had only just finished looking through it. Of course, David recognized the book immediately because it was his own, a record of his past, the story of his childhood; the mere sight of it was enough to cause him to upset the tea tray.


"David, darling, please do be careful." Margery smiled sweetly as she took the tray from her stepson and set it on the coffee table. "Surely you haven"t become more clumsy since you"ve gone off to college?"


She whispered to Laura and they both giggled good-naturedly. David stood silently staring at the satin-covered book that lay on the table, his mouth dry, his eyes wide with fear. His stepmother frowned with concern and she took his hand and pulled him closer to the sofa.


"Come here, dearest, and sit down between us girls." Margery began pouring tea before he settled down on the sofa. "I"ve just had the nicest talk with your ladyfriend, and I must say that I think you are a very lucky boy." She smiled her knowing smile and turned to his friend. "Sugar, Laura?"


The younger woman nodded as she took the cup. Laura then patted the quiet youth on the knee and her eyes studied him with a most disturbing intensity. David refused to return his friend"s look, and instead, he continued staring at the book.


"What"s the matter, darling? Is something wrong?" Laura started to put down her cup, but the older woman gestured for her to drink her tea.


"Laura, dear, you"ll just have to ignore his behavior," Margery said with a smile. "It seems that he"s forgotten so much since he left home. I think his manners were the first thing to go when he abandoned me."


The teenager wanted to say something so badly; he wanted to shout, to get up from the couch, grab Laura, and run away forever. Most of all he wanted to know what his book was doing out for just anyone to see, but he was afraid to ask. Maybe if he kept quiet no one would say anything. Then he would be safe.


Margery continued. "You see, darling, he used to be such a joy to have around. Taking care of him was like caring for a little doll." She smiled at her stepson"s horrified expression. "Oh, calm yourself, Daphne, darling ... I don"t know what you"re so worried about."


David"s heart stopped for a moment; he hadn"t heard that name for almost two years, and now ... the sound of it sent a chill through his body. His stepmother, of course, continued without missing a beat.


"Your Laura understands you better than you think. Isn"t that right, dear?" The younger woman smiled and placed her hand on his, holding it tightly as his stepmother continued. "I was worried about David when he left me. Of course, there wasn"t anything I could do, but I was so afraid that he would meet up with the wrong people." Margery smiled. "He always needed someone to care for him, you know. Even in high school he had trouble taking up for himself."


"Well, let"s talk about something more pleasant," Laura suggested. She set her cup down and she moved closer to David, picking up the old album and turning it over so that she could see the pink satin cover. She began to open it, but seeing that he was upset by her movements, she closed the cover and placed the book in his lap instead.


"Honey, why don"t you go through the album with me and tell me all about it? Your stepmother let me take a quick peek, but she said that you might prefer that we all look at it together." Reluctantly, David looked toward Laura and her expression surprised him; she was smiling in a way that told him that he had little choice in the matter.


She knows, he thought nervously. She knows everything!

He swallowed with difficulty as his friend gestured toward the book, and he felt an odd, frightening warmth spread through his body as he made his decision.

David looked at the pink satin cover, shivering as he saw the all too familiar "Daphne" embroidered in the fabric, decorated with tiny ribbons and white velvet roses. Just looking at the delicate name before him sent his mind reeling, and he struggled to compose himself as the two women moved in closer, surrounding him, forcing him to continue. He opened the album, turning to the opening page.


The first photograph caused him to smile involuntarily. It was a simple snapshot of a very young child. Holding a paper bag with "trick or treat" written on the front, the youngster wore an old-fashioned flower print dress, the skirt of which was so long that it gathered on the floor in a pile. The cherubic face was painted with makeup, enhancing the child"s features for the camera; lipstick and rouge made the mouth and cheeks look plump, and dark mascara magnified the shining blue eyes. A huge feathered hat and costume jewelry completed the elaborate costume. David felt himself fall backward twelve years as he studied the small photograph. He wanted to say something to the child wearing the dress, but Laura interrupted his thoughts.


"Who"s that? She looks adorable." Laura looked at David, waiting for his response; the youth squirmed with discomfort. Laura then looked over to his stepmother. "Margery?"


"Oh, that"s our little Davy, all right." The older woman smiled a warm smile. "Didn"t I tell you he was a doll?"


"That"s Davy?" Laura looked at her young friend and giggled. "Why, he"s absolutely adorable!" She turned back toward Margery. "How old was he when this was taken?"


Margery seemed pleased with Laura"s reaction. "Oh, this was when he was still in the second grade, so he was only seven years old."


Laura looked at David with an amused expression. "Go ahead, dearest. Go on to the next picture."


David shivered as he turned to the next photograph. It was quite large, taking up the whole page. He remembered this one all too well as images of a past long-forgotten filled his thoughts.







The child before him was laughing and smiling, posing in a sheer lemon yellow dress that was decorated with lace sewn into the skirt. The boyishly short dark blond hair was set off with a huge yellow velvet bow atop the child"s head, and shiny yellow patent leather shoes contrasted nicely with lace-trimmed anklets. The photograph was very clear, very colorful, and very professional-looking.


"I was nine years old when this was taken." David cleared his throat as he spoke; his mouth was painfully dry. "This was the dress Mother and my music teacher made me wear in the school Christmas play." He swallowed, his throat tightening. "I had to sing in the girls" chorus, so they made me dress up." He looked to his stepmother for confirmation, but she only smiled and shook her head.


"Now, David! That"s not true and you know it!" The woman turned to Laura and sighed. "Honestly, Laura, I really don"t know why he says those things."


"Mother ... please ...?" David"s protest was quelled by a sharp pinch on his knee. Laura gave him an equally sharp look and then put her finger to her lips.


Margery picked up the album and touched the photograph, tracing the image of the youngster in the frilly costume with an elegantly manicured forefinger. "He had such a beautiful voice when he was little, and he loved to sing anything and everything. Mrs. Gilbert, his teacher, couldn"t keep him quiet in music class, so she kept him busy with special projects."


"I wish I could have heard that," Laura said, smiling girlishly at a blushing David. Margery nodded as she touched the throat of the laughing child in the picture.


"It was a wonderful time for us all. Odd thing, though ... when his music teacher asked him if he would sing in the girls" chorus in the Christmas play, he told me all about how he was going to have to dress up and be a girl. Of course, I gave little thought to it, assuming that this was his teacher"s idea, but I should have known better. Later I discovered that David had told Mrs. Gilbert that it was my idea to make him wear a dress! I never understood why he went through such a charade. I mean, he even threw a little tantrum when he thought he wasn"t going to get his picture taken with the rest of the girls in the chorus!"


"Imagine that," smirked Laura.


"Of course, this picture is special for one other reason," said Margery. "We sent a copy overseas to my husband, along with a note from "Daphne," our new daughter. It was just a little joke ... that was just before they told us he had been killed."


There was a long silence, and then Margery cleared her throat and pointed to the next page, which contained a series of snapshots.


"This is Davy and his pretty little girlfriends on stage. And here they are after the play." In each picture the child was smiling and laughing, moving with a swirl of skirts and ribbons in every pose. Margery smiled at her stepson. "You sure didn"t want to take off that dress, remember?" Turning to Laura, she shook her head and giggled. "I had to let him wear it every day after school for a month."


Laura looked at David for a long, quiet moment, studying his blue eyes with doubt. "Is this true, David? I thought you told me that you hated dressing up as a girl."


"Hated it?" Margery looked at her blushing stepson and laughed. "Is that what you told her, sweetie? Why in the world would you tell her something like that? "


"That"s what I"d like to know." Laura sighed and took a sip of her coffee, her eyes locked on David"s. "He said that you used to punish him by making him wear skirts and dresses. He even told me that you whipped him whenever he refused to do as he was told."


The older woman sighed pleasantly, shaking her head from side to side. She turned the page to another series of photographs.


"Well, I can"t say that I ever actually punished Davy by making him put on his pretties," the older woman smiled coyly. "I must admit, I did get after him with the strap every now and then, but that was only when he got a little too rambunctious for his own good, and never while he was wearing his little panties and skirts. You see, darling, I was never able to have children, but I loved Davy as my very own and I tried my best to treat him as such."


"He never said you didn"t love him," Laura whispered softly.




Margery sighed. "I know that. Now, at first, I suppose he did resent it when I tried to balance out some of that rough and tumble boyishness with some lessons in good manners. But we made a game of it. We often played "pretend" together, holding little tea parties and such for practice. Then, one day, we dug into an old trunk of clothing for costumes. Sometimes we dressed up as mother and daughter, just for fun, mind you, and Davy would call me "Mommy" and I would call him "Daphne" and we would hold our little tea parties as if that was the most natural thing in the world for us to be doing."


The older woman sniffed, her eyes shining with nostalgia. "I suppose, if anything, I may have encouraged him to dress up more often than he probably wanted at first, but he accepted it all in good grace, don"t you know. Oh, you should have seen him, Laura, running around the house in his little dress and apron, and such a scowl on his face! It was precious! Of course, once he began to appreciate his pretty things it was out of my hands. In fact, I often had to threaten to take his pretties away if he didn"t behave properly."


"What about when your friends came over to visit?!!!" blurted David, red-faced and tearful. "You always made me dress up so you could show off your little girl! That wasn"t my idea!" he said in a strangled voice.


"Well, that may be true," Margery smiled coyly. "On the other hand, darling, you must admit that you never did protest very much. Here, Laura, look at this and tell me if it looks a little boy who"s being punished."


She touched a snapshot showing the same youngster blowing out candles on a birthday cake. Surrounded by several smiling children, all dressed in gaily colored costumes, the child was attired in a bright blue party dress that consisted completely of ruffles and lace. A bright ribbon rested atop the blond head, a smattering of bangs just brushing above a pair of smiling blue eyes. There were ten candles on the cake.


Laura shook her head. "It doesn"t look like a little boy at all to me."


"Well, it most certainly is." Margery giggled as her stepson trembled with embarrassment. "We had such a wonderful time at that party. And look here, Davy had just turned twelve when this was taken. Isn"t he just precious?"


She pointed to a snapshot of the same child, now slightly older, reclining in a bathtub filled with soap suds past chin level; this time the blond hair was apparently long enough to be up in curlers, and the young face was smiling with the same delight displayed in the earlier photographs.


"Poor thing," sighed Margery. "He tried his best to be like other boys, but he couldn"t help it. Especially after his father passed away. I know that"s what did it. After that, well ... he hated playing "war" and baseball and such rough games... instead, he spent most of his time helping me around the house." Turning to Laura, she wiped away a tear and smiled. "You should know that Davy is a wonderful cook and he was a born seamstress."


She turned to a photograph of a very pretty teenager standing in a flower garden; the child wore an old fashioned pink party dress, and the dark blond hair was brushed out and fluffed and the feet were bare. Again, as in the other pictures, there was that smile of childish delight.


"We made that dress together," the older women noted. "Daphne... I mean, Davy, did most of the work."


Margery slowly turned the pages of the album, passing by dozens of pictures of the pretty teenager and his happy smiles. The clothing he wore was as varied as the scenes themselves; there was one photograph of him standing in front of a church in a fancy Easter outfit, another showed him working in the flower garden dressed in a dainty sunsuit, and still another had him helping in the kitchen with a ruffled pinafore over a frilly dress. There was even one picture of the youngster posing prettily on a beach towel in a girlish bathing suit; Margery lingered by this one for a moment, shook her head fondly and sighed before continuing.


The final photograph in the book was a studio portrait of the youth posing with an older woman, the two subjects sitting close together and holding hands. The woman was expensively dressed in a plain purple suit, with only a hint of jewelry showing; her makeup was impeccable and her hair was up in an elegant sweep. The teenager wore a delicate-looking skirt and blouse ensemble; the skirt was of a bright red wool and the blouse soft white silk. Knee stockings and saddle shoes completed the outfit. The short blond hair was brushed out in a boyish style and the lipstick and makeup were hardly noticeable. A pale blue bunny rested contentedly in the youngster"s arms.


"Daphne was barely fifteen when we had this made." Margery looked at David with a sympathetic smile. "High school was particularly hard on my little darling. Like I said before, he wanted so much to be like other boys, and every now and then he would tell me that he had grown out of his dresses and skirts, and I would put them away where he couldn"t find them. But no matter how hard he tried not to, he always came back to me and begged for his pretties to be returned." The older woman looked sad. "No matter how badly things went at school, he always knew he could come home and play "dress up" ... and be himself."


David"s body burned with shame and he felt a strange dizziness sweep over him. There was nothing he could say to deny his stepmother"s words. Everything she said was more true than not. He thought sadly about how much more there was to be told ...

... he remembered the terrible whippings he used to get, and how his stepmother promised they would never be repeated as long as he was good and did as he was told. It didn"t take much for him to swallow his boyish pride and give up his sneakers and jeans for those silly dresses and aprons ... for part of him, it was as though this was how things should have always been.

... he remembered the Saturday mornings when he would wake up to find a pair of panties pinned to his pillow and a dress hanging on the bed post. Without being told anything, he would slip into his pretty clothes and play with his dolls for hours on end while his friends were all outside playing football or riding their bicycles. Sometimes they would knock on the door and ask if he could come out and play; standing just out of sight, he would clutch his skirt in terror as his stepmother explained that no, David couldn"t come out and play because he"d been a bad boy.


...he remembered the tears burning in his eyes as his GI Joe and all of his wonderful accessories were gathered up and tossed in the trash. "No more guns in this house!" his stepmother had ordered. "No toy soldiers, no forts, nothing of the kind, NEVER, EVER AGAIN! I won"t have it!" It was a few weeks later that he"d learned his father had been killed in the war overseas.

... he remembered how he lost himself in his secret game as he grew older, the powerful excitement of dressing up; the joy of getting a new dress and putting it on and showing it off to his stepmother; how she would praise him and hug him and love him and promise to never leave him ... not like his father had done ...

... he remembered how, in the guise of a girl, he would accompany his guardian on rare but wonderful shopping trips to visit her mother and sister, and how he would be showered with love and affection for his daring; how he would go with them shopping for clothes and dolls and visits to the ice cream parlor ... and how no one would suspect that, beneath all the ribbons and lace, he was a boy. It was almost like being a spy!


... most of all, he remembered the nights when he would steal into his stepmother"s bedroom and borrow her gowns and panties to sleep in; the afternoons alone when he"d try on her lingerie ... the longline girdles, the brassieres and slips ... standing in before the dressing mirror for hours on end, admiring the seductive reflection before him ... and then exploring his young body and masturbating until until it hurt.


The mortified youth looked at Laura, hoping that what he was about to say would make things better. Judging from the expression on her face, nothing could make things worse.


"Laura, I"m sorry I lied to you. I didn"t tell you the entire truth. Just part of it. The part I wanted you to know." David could feel sweat running down his back. Laura remained silent, waiting for him to continue. He turned to face his stepmother, giant tears burning his eyes.


"Mother, I"m so sorry. I told her how you used to spank me and make me dress up. But I didn"t tell her everything. I didn"t tell her how ... how I didn"t mind. How much I loved being ... pretending to be ... your daughter." He thought he was about to lose control of himself. "But I was afraid if I told her the truth, she"d misunderstand." He tried to laugh as he turned to face Laura. "I mean, none of my friends ever understood me, so why should you bother to try? Who wants to be around somebody like me?"


Hearing the tremor of truth in his voice, Laura allowed her emotions to thaw, to turn warm and sympathetic; she wanted to believe him, but how far should she go?


"David, why did you tell me anything at all?" she asked. "You could have kept quiet, and then you wouldn"t have had to lie to me."

He shrugged. "I had to tell you something. I don"t know why, but I did. Especially after I got to know you. I wanted to share something with you that was special to me, and dressing up and pretending to be a girl was the most important thing that ever happened to me. But, because of the way everybody else treated me, I didn"t want you to think it was my fault, so I made up that story about Mother being mean to me."

He felt so ashamed. He placed his hands over his face and he began to sob. "I"m really sorry. I promise I am. I"ve tried to change. I thought I would be able to leave everything behind me. I really thought I could."


After listening to all this, Margery finally interrupted. "Davy, darling, listen to me. You"ve never done anything to be ashamed of and I really don"t think you have anything to worry about. As a matter of fact, you may be a lot luckier than you suspect. Why don"t you give your friend here a chance?" The older woman set her tea down on the tray, stood up, and brushed the wrinkles from her expensive dress. "Come along and see whether I"m right."


The nervous teen followed Laura and his stepmother through the old house, and he felt weak as familiar images appeared in his thoughts, sparked by the sight of various objects as he made his way ...


... there was the old stairway where he used to play with his dolls; at the top of the stairs was the window seat where he used to sit around in his pretties and read fairytales and daydream; beyond that was the giant hall mirror in front of which he used to stand and pose, giggling in his girlish costumes for hours at a time; over there was the doorway to his parents" bedroom behind which he learned so much about dressing up by simply watching his stepmother go through her daily routine of being a woman; and finally, there was the door to what had been his old room, closed, mysterious, inviting.


He felt challenged. Margery stopped at that doorway, turned to face David, and then she quietly opened it, allowing both her stepson and his ladyfriend to enter the sweet, musty smelling darkness.


He blinked for a moment as he turned on the light, and then he looked around his old bedroom and he marveled at what he saw. It was hard to believe. Everything was the same. Nothing had been moved or touched. Everything was in its proper place. It was amazing; his stepmother had kept all of his old things, everything, just as he left them over two years ago. The frilly old canopy bed, the vanity, his dolls and his stuffed animals, all exactly as he remembered them. He started toward the wardrobe, but Margery stopped him by touching him on the shoulder, turning him to face a large framed portrait hanging over the old-fashioned four-poster bed. He looked up and gasped.


"Do you remember this?" his stepmother asked. Entranced by an onslaught of forgotten memories, he nodded and wept.

He was seventeen when his stepmother took him for this final portrait. Freshly graduated from high school and bound for college, he had promised himself that this was to be the last of his pretty pictures ...

...as always, Margery wanted everything to be perfect; David even let her talk him into letting her give him a permanent, but he secretly promised himself that he would cut all his curls before leaving home. The dress was bought from the boutique where he shopped as a young boy for pretty things to wear; the manager had always been sympathetic when it came to outfitting the youngster in girlish things, and she became even more understanding now that he was nearly eighteen years of age. The dress she found for his final portrait was quite simple in its elegance; it was a creation of white organdy and crinoline, with a ruffled collar, long puffed sleeves, and a modest hemline. Both stepmother and son were very pleased.

... the day of the photography sitting was filled only with excitement and happiness. He got up extra early that morning, impatient because his hair had been set the night before and he was dying to see himself with his new curls. Following a quick breakfast, he took a long, luxurious bubble bath, after which he covered himself with talcum powder and sprayed himself thoroughly with perfume. Then the teenaged boy put on a complete set of frilly feminine underthings, including a pair of skimpy lace panties and a matching training brassiere, a long, snug-fitting girdle, a slip, and a pair of sheer silken stockings; he took his time as he fastened the stockings to the garters, one by one. After that, David slid his stockinged feet into an expensive pair of white high-heeled pumps which set off his shapely legs very nicely, and he stood before the dressing mirror for a while, savoring what he saw.

... finally, Margery joined him, and the tiny hair curlers were carefully removed and the blond locks were brushed, styled, and sprayed into place. His face was lightly painted with rouge, eye makeup, and lipstick, and his nails were polished a bright pink. The boy then stepped into his frilly new dress, trembling with impatience as his stepmother adjusted the fit and closed the fastenings. A delicate gold chain was draped around his ruffled throat, suspending a heart-shaped locket, and a tiny gold ring with a similar heart was placed on his finger. With makeup, manicure, and jewelry, his appearance set the illusion of an attractive young debutante awaiting her escort. In his special costume, seventeen year old David felt more alive and more happy than ever before...


Laura was stunned. She stood there and studied the portrait for a long time.


"This is beautiful! Is this why your hair was so short when I first met you?" David nodded sheepishly. "Well, to be quite honest, I think I prefer you this way. Perhaps if you dressed this way all the time, you wouldn"t have reason to lie me."


Laura then turned to David"s stepmother. "The first time I noticed your son, he was wearing an old leather jacket and boots. He didn"t seem as tough as he looked when I talked with him, and I suspected he was trying to be something he really wasn"t... but I would never have guessed..." She looked at her young friend and she smiled as he bit his lip. "You never should have been allowed to wear trousers. What a waste. What a pitiful waste."


Margery smiled. "It doesn"t have to be, my darlings." She giggled. "It doesn"t have to be ... never, ever again ..."



* * *


David smiled as he listened to the voices in the living room; the corners of his mouth turned upward with the sound of each laugh, the pain of concentration forcing his lips to tremble and his eyes to squint. He drew the lipstick across his mouth with great care, working hard not to ruin his hard work with a momentary slip of the hand. He smiled, puckered, and he smiled again.

He felt content; he had finally gotten the chance to look in his old wardrobe, and for some reason he wasn"t at all surprised to see that it was still filled with all kinds of pretty clothes, from the tiny dresses and costumes that he loved to wear when he was little, to the last few feminine outfits he wore as a teenager. Even the dresser drawers still contained old nightgowns and underthings. The only things absent were his boyish school clothes; his stepmother had thrown all those things out after he left home, but for some reason he didn"t seem to mind.


What truly amazed David was that many of his pretty clothes still fit him; even after nearly two years he hadn"t changed as much as he thought, and there was plenty for him to wear. The youth smiled dreamily as he thought about how nice it felt to be shed of his rough denims and boots, and he wondered why he had ever wanted them so badly.


Carefully, gingerly, he stood up, trying his best not to fall down in the high-heeled pumps, and he walked over to the huge dressing mirror that dominated one corner of the bedroom. The rustling of the dress and the tickling of lace against his legs excited him. His pulse quickened as he approached the looking glass.


The young girl in the mirror opposite him smiled, welcoming him home. Nearly twenty years of age, she was clad in a simple, yet elegant frock of organdy and crinoline, the hemline reaching just above her stockinged knees. David was fascinated with how familiar she looked; her face was soft and pink, her huge blue eyes accented by shades of mascara and eye shadow, her mouth made larger by the bright-colored lipstick coating her lips; her hair had been curled and teased and lacquered into place; her fingernails were coated with pink lacquer. As he breathed in the fragrance of her perfume, he felt himself becoming aroused ... physically, emotionally ... spiritually ...


Beyond the mirrored image of the young girl stood two women, both smiling with pride at the feminine creature before them. The oldest of the two approached the girl from behind; in her hands was a thin gold chain suspending a locket in the shape of a heart. David watched as the chain was draped over the girlish head and the locket fell into place below the frilly collar; the boy shivered with excitement as something tickled his own neck. The younger of the women took the girl by the hand, and a delicate ring was slipped over a pink painted nail, sliding up to fit the feminine finger perfectly. With tears of release, David looked down at the girl"s fragile hands and he saw that they were his own; he had finally returned home, and he knew that he would never leave again ...


The End


Back To Daphne"s Home

[Бек (GUEST)]

Даешь перевод!!!

[Ириша]

Есть перевод!

http://forum.julijana.ru/index.php?topic=3600.0