Mommy's Boy?


"Hi honey, how was your day?" My mom called out her usual question as I came in through the side door, and tried to quit sniffling. In vain -- I still had the hiccups from my recent crying jag, and my nose was running. I'm sure my face was red too.

"F-fine," I hiccuped. Obviously, it hadn't been fine.

"Oh, hon, did those boys tease you again? They're so rude."

"Why do they keep calling me a girl, mom? It's so mean! Just 'cause I don't play sports..."

In truth, it was more than that -- I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

My name's Jake. I'm 18, but you wouldn't think it -- most people take me for 15, tops. I've never had to shave a day in my life -- I barely have leg or arm hair, even, and only a fluffy tuft "down there." To say I didn't play sports was really an understatement -- I'd have gotten creamed. I always hated playing rough, and hated getting dirty at all; I guess you could say I was a bit prissy. Add to that the fact that I was quite sensitive and wore my straight blonde hair down to my shoulders, and I think you can see why all the rest of the kids at school teased me about being a girl.

My mom poured me a cup of tea to calm me down, and gave me a cookie. I was a senior in high school, but she still treated me like a little kid. I liked it, though -- it made me feel warm and loved. I liked being mommy's little boy.

As I munched on my cookie and sipped the tea, I looked up at my mommy. She was so beautiful. She had lovely soft, round, brown eyes and long blond hair. Her big breasts bounced and swayed whenever she moved, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't watch them whenever I could. She wore an apron over her skirt and blouse, and her gorgeous long legs always ended in high-heeled shoes that clacked as she walked. A real knockout, one any man would be proud to call his own.

She looked thoughtful now, resting her chin on her right hand as she gazed at me. I felt a bit apprehensive -- sometimes she got the craziest ideas, and they were always preceeded by that thoughtful look. She was up to something.

"You know, hon," she began, "words only hurt if you're afraid of them. What could we do to help make you less afraid of the words these silly boys use?"

"I dunno, mom. It's not like I can just get bigger and beat them all up."

"No, you probably won't be doing that anytime soon," she said, the hint of a giggle in her soft voice. "But there might be another way. Finish your cookie and tea, and we'll talk about it."

When I did, she asked me to follow her to her bedroom. I was surprised by this, as that was usually off limits to me. But of course I followed her. When we got into the room, she walked over to her closet and threw it open. It was quite a large walk-in affair -- mommy definitely liked her clothes.

"Now, honey, you might not be sure of what I'm about to do, but I promise, it's for your own good. Promise mommy you'll do what she says?"

"I promise, mommy. Whatever you say."

"Good, good."

She began to open drawers and rummage about. I couldn't exactly see what she was doing, but I caught glances of black silk and pink lace and ruffles, and quickly figured out that she was going through her lingerie. For a boy as smitten by his mother as I, this was terribly arousing. Suddenly she spun around.

In her hands was pink silk. It was lacy. It looked so soft and sensuous and feminine. It was a set of pink panties and a pink bra. On the front of the panties -- a bikini style with high-cut legs -- was a pink bow. The legs were all ruffles with a pink ribbon running through them. The bra had pink ruffles around the cups, and a bow between them. And there was something else, that looked kind of like a belt; I didn't recognize it. I was in heaven looking at my mother's lovely, sexy lingerie. I was also terrified. I was also very, very erect.

Well, as erect as I could be. I had never been much of a "grower" -- my penis was only three inches long (I measured it once), and barely thicker than one of my fingers. I always changed quickly for gym, praying no one would see.

"I want you to put these on, honey," my mom purred.

"I... I... I..." I stammered. I was overcome.

"Now now, no fuss -- remember what you promised your mommy. Come on, pants down," she said as she put the lingerie down, grabbed my belt buckle, and began to undo it. "Let's just get these off."

My erection was not the largest ever recorded, but it wasn't invisible, and the proximity of the mother's face to my crotch was not helping matters at all -- a fact my mother quickly discovered.

"Oh, now I see," she giggled. "A little excited, are we? Well, I suppose that's to be expected. Take off your underwear and shirt and come into the bathroom with me please." I did as she commanded, my tiny member eagerly leading the way. Once there, mommy asked me to face the toilet, and knelt behind me. She rubbed my bum, caressing my curves (I had something of a bubble butt, too). "Mmmm, mommy hasn't seen her little one in quite a few years. Do you know how this works?"

Of course I did, and was delighted when she took me between her thumb and forefinger and began stroking. I sighed in extasy, and suddenly noticed that she was rubbing my butt crack as well. That was unusual -- certainly I'd never done it before (I wasn't gay, after all!). But slowly, and then more and more forcefully, I began bucking against her, helping her to rub this wonderfully sensitive new area. "Oh, mommy," I sighed, "yes, yes please!" And then I came, feeling better than I ever had before. It had only taken a moment.

Mommy stood up and washed her hand, and fetched the lingerie she'd selected. "Come now, on with these," she said, a stern edge chasing away the earlier giggles. "A girl needs to enjoy her first bra and panties."

Girl? What did she mean? I was a boy! I was mommy's boy! But I practically jumped into the panties, shivering as I pulled them up my nearly hairless legs. The soft, sensual fabric felt so good sliding along my skin, cradling my little manhood, now shrunk even more after its recent excitement, caressing my newly-tingling bubble butt.

The bra I and more trouble with, so mommy helped me snap it shut behind me. Then she brought out two small, rubbery-looking things. I couldn't figure them out at first, and looked at her quizzically. She chuckled, and slipped them into the bra -- my bra -- and suddenly I had breasts!

"But mommy, they aren't as big as yours! I want big ones like you!" I was really jealous of my mom's big, swinging breasts.

"Don't worry, darling -- perhaps someday mommy's girl can have bigger breasts. But we're just starting out now, and we can't have big breasts all at once. Now, just a few more things." And she held up the belt-looking thing I'd seen before. "Do you know what this is?"

I shook my head no.

"It's a garter belt. It will hold up your stockings. I think you'll like it a lot," she said, and looped it around me, fastening it at the back. The straps dangled down my legs. She walked back to the drawers in the closet. When she returned, she was holding a pair of white stockings, with lace ruffles at the tops.

"I'll help you put these on -- we don't want to rip them! Come sit on the bed." I did just that, and again savored the feeling of sexy, soft fabric climbing up my leg. I was almost giddy with the joy of it; a feeling of girly glee washed over me. Mommy clipped the stockings in place. I began to grow again.

And suddenly I realized that this couldn't be her bra! The cups were far too small. She must have bought it just for me -- must have bought all of this just for me! She'd been planning this for a while!

"Mommy!" I managed to gasp, before needing to sit down, my head spinning.

"Ah, you're catching on." That giggle again; I could never resist her giggle, it was so warm and infectious. "Yes, I've been planning this for quite some time -- all summer, really. I knew those boys would keep teasing you, and the more I thought about it, the more interested I became in seeing you dressed as a girl. I know you'll be really cute -- you look so much like me already! And so I hatched this plan. Are you sad about that? Do you want to stop?"

I sat there for a moment, stunned. I tingled all over. My chest was heavy. I felt the perpetual soft hug of the bra, comforting me. I felt the sexiness of the stockings clinging to me legs and shivered again at the thought of it. And I felt the pink silk of my first pair of panties delicately caressing my ass, stroking my erection. I felt the girly happiness of getting dressed with mommy. And I knew I never wanted to stop.

"Please make me your girl, mommy," I said softly. "That's all I want -- to be mommy's little girl."

A tear rolled down my mom's cheek as she smiled wider than I'd ever seen her smile before. And a tear rolled down my cheek as we hugged, me in my lovely pink lingerie, a new girl. Mommy's girl.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous02/17/18


I wished it'd been one of my parents who had helped me be the girl I always knew I was. Instead first it was my mother's cousin then our best friends father.

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by Anonymous01/21/18

A sissy to

I was 12 when my mom dressed me as her little girl it felt so good

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