Rodeo Girl

Rodeo Girl

This romantic feel-good novella starts with a young man who is struggling with feelings of inadequacy since his father left home. His mother supports him as he gradually discovers an identity he feels comfortable with. A summer job at a ranch leads to an opportunity for him to be Cristina Jones full-time and see how it feels. Cristina rediscovers herself and in doing so finds love, happiness and acceptance with all those around her.

© All rights reserved, 2024 Cristal di Canta.

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1 Mom's Boy

It was just after my seventeenth birthday when my father left home. There were no tears, just a palpable sense of relief mixed with some financial worry. Still, to his credit, and despite the bouts of drinking and rage that had made him unbearable to live with over the last year or so, he had transferred the house to my Mom and provided an allowance for her to support me. He had been a good father in his day. Mom and I reminisced on happier times, especially our holidays, but whatever demons had turned him to drink had also eaten away his caring side and, when his mother died, he just upped and left to live in her old ramshackle house, happy to escape from whatever it was that kept him from being happy. Perhaps it was us. It certainly seemed that way, but we never knew.

We stayed living in Oakville. Mom worked in a large shop down-town as a beautician and the owners and her clients were very supportive, allowing her to change her shifts at short notice to help bring me up. She always put me first and as a result we never had much money. These were difficult years for any young man, but particularly difficult for a rather weak, nerdy, short, skinny and extremely youthful looking one like me. Angst and self-loathing were a feature of every day and filled my life with a certain dread. There were plenty of good times, far more than bad times, but it was those few occasions of bullying that outweighed everything and often left me quietly crying myself to sleep.

On my eighteenth birthday my Mom came home after a long shift and found me in tears under the bed sheets having had a particularly traumatic experience on what should have been such a special day. One of the nastier boys in the football team who nobody liked had decided to pick on me and cornered me in the wash rooms. He pushed me against the cold and clammy tiled wall and told me that I was a pathetic worm and would never have a girlfriend. Pressing on both my shoulders so I could not move he continued, adding that I was more like a girl than a boy with my stupid high-pitched voice, beardless face and weakling body. I shouted back, "I'm not a girl", but my fear had made my voice even higher than usual. He slapped me across the face making my cheek sting. I began to cry, I wish I had been stronger, but I wasn't. It was my birthday!

Instead of making him stop, my tears seemed to spur him on. "You keep quiet," he said, looking menacingly into my cloudy eyes. His expression changed into a twisted grin. "The only reason a cry-baby girl like you would be in the boys room, is if you want to see a cock."

I was still reeling from the slap. He reached down and undid his pants. I felt something brush against me down there and instinctively looked down and saw his disgusting penis. "See," he said triumphantly and, putting both his hands on my shoulders, pushed me down, saying, "go on, take a closer look!"

His thing was waving in front of my face. I watched it getting really hard and I was fascinated and terrified in equal measure. Fortunately for me he heard voices outside and quickly and quietly rearranged himself before disappearing. I stood back up, wiped my eyes and began to recover my composure. I bumped into some friends on my way home and ran through some made-up story as to why I was in such a state. I did not want anyone to know about these things that were happening to me. It was far too embarrassing and I felt that if I had been a real man I would have been able to deal with it. I felt so insecure. So hopeless.

Mom knew something was up as soon as I got in and I steadfastly refused to tell her what had happened. My made-up story was ridiculous though and her loving persistence and comforting hugs meant my crying started again and she refused to leave me until I had accounted truthfully for my state. I thought she would go mad, but she didn't. She just explained that the world was full of nasty people who just enjoyed picking on others and that I was a lovely boy, too lovely for my own good. I begged her not to go to the school and tell them, and she said she would think about it.

I went to bed early as I was emotionally exhausted, but I woke from a nightmare in which I was cornered in a room with boys all waving their hard cocks at me. Although I was frightened I also realised I was very excited, and that made it so much worse. Why was I excited? I rolled over and the sheets were damp. I must have groaned so loudly that Mom came in and got into bed with me and just held me. It was June and decidedly warm so I was naked under the sheets to keep cool.

Even now I can recall the electrifying feeling of the soft warm satin material of her nightdress against my skin and the tickling of the lace edging against my thighs. I felt so safe in her arms that I relented and told her how I felt, how pathetic I was, how I had been told I looked like a girl, choking on my words as I forced them out. She listened and held me tighter and told me that I was a lovely kind boy who any decent girl would want and not to let these insults get to me. I knew these were just the loving words of my Mom, but that did not matter. I was being unconditionally loved and cared for by someone who really meant the world to me, and that was all I needed.

Her love and her embrace were so comforting I had the best night's sleep I had had for a long time and she had been so tired that I awoke to find her still spooned up to me, her arm draped over my side, clasping my chest, her warm satin covered body pressed against me. I could feel her breasts slowly heaving against my back in time with the soothing sounds of her breathing. I did notice something different though. Her nightdress had ridden-up and I could feel the naked skin of her thighs against my bottom and the soft cotton of her panties tickled me when she stirred. It was an extremely sensual feeling and I felt a bit ashamed as my body reacted accordingly. I lay as still as I could until I gradually fell back to sleep. When I woke again she had gone, leaving just the lingering smell of her perfume accompanied by the remote sound of clattering in the kitchen. I lay there, comforted by the sound of her at work, but also by the fact that it was women that really turned me on, even if it had been Mom.

I found her busy making breakfast. She gave me a hug and asked me if I was feeling better and tightened her arms when I said that I was and she had made all the difference. She told me she hadn't slept so well in ages and I said the same. Nothing else needed to be said. From that night on I often slept in her bed and never felt better. I loved cuddling up to her and being surrounded by her things. The femininity of her room, the soft materials, the pastel shades and all the scents that accompanied them were so comforting and soothing. I noticed that although being in bed with her made me aroused, it did not make me lustful, just calm and peaceful in a beautifully innocent way.

The summer holidays arrived early that year because once I had finished my exams there was nothing to do but wait and see if I had got into college. I found myself lying-in while my Mom went off to work. She had long stopped being embarrassed in my presence and, although she would use the en-suite to change out of her night clothes, she would wander around the bedroom in her panties and bra or camisole while she decided what to wear. It is hard to describe how erotic I found this, and because I could not bear to sexualise my mother, I sexualised the clothes she was wearing. I don't think she knew how frustrated it left me until I heard the front door close and could relieve the pent-up sexual tension she had left behind.

Looking back, it was inevitable that my fascination with her under-things would lead to something more. One morning, when she had overslept and left in a particular hurry, I picked up the panties and camisole she had slept in and dropped casually on the bathroom floor. As I went to drop them into the laundry basket, their warm, smooth and sexy softness felt so good between my figures that I scrunched them up in my hand. I felt an irresistible compulsion to keep touching them. I held them up to my face and inhaled my mother's perfume. I stood there for an age, a strange aura of serenity surrounding me. I was unable to put them down, and then, all of a sudden, I had an intense craving to put them on.

As I pulled on her panties, the feeling of the satin material running along my skin was erotic and beautiful in equal measure. How could I forget it? I slipped the camisole over my head and felt it brush against my nipples, sending tingles down my spine. My heart was racing, afraid of what I was finding myself doing and that I would be discovered, but the sensation of the soft panties and the strappy camisole top encasing my soft ivory skin was so amazing that it overwhelmed all of those fears.

Seeing myself in the full length mirror was a revelation. I spun around admiring how it looked and felt. Pandora's box had come in the guise of a laundry basket and there was no going back, new feelings had been unleashed that were so powerful I knew they would prove irresistible. It was a defining moment. It felt so good, so comfortable and so right that I could barely believe it. It was as if the clothes were embracing me and, I have to confess, it felt completely natural and quite sexy too. When I relieved myself that morning, still wearing her things, I had one of the most amazing body shaking orgasms ever, but once I had come, feelings of guilt rapidly took over. I quickly pulled off her things and put them in the laundry and reverted back to being the embarrassed nerdy boy, now with a shameful secret.

The clock could not be turned back. I slowly took it further, spurred on by all sorts of help and guidance from the internet that helped me get over the guilt and alienation of doing something so taboo. It was not that I just felt sexy, I felt far happier and comfortable in girl's clothes. I was very careful to keep it hidden as I saw that society still struggled with those who were different, and especially those who wanted to change their gender. In many ways I was happy with that as I was in no hurry to be one person or another, I was simply happy that I had this new 'place' I could escape to where I felt so content and good about myself.

By the middle of that summer I was not only dressing completely, but I had let my hair grow and could adopt a page-boy style with some clever use of gels. I had also begun to use make-up and when I looked in the mirror a sweet and sassy girl looked back at me. I created new social accounts and began posting pictures on the internet, some were even a little racy, and before I knew it I had a thousand followers. I was convinced that my mother must know about my experimentation, but she gave nothing away. There were certain little things she said or commented on that were otherwise inexplicable, but nothing that indicated she had a problem with me. It was a comforting and accepting form of denial.

Of course moms see everything in their children and, to be honest, mine would have been quite a dreadful mom not to have noticed the way I had changed or found signs of some of my less than perfect clear-ups. She was most definitely not a dreadful mom, so she must have known. We carried on sleeping in the same bed as it had become so natural and we both loved hugging and our kiss goodnight.

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2 Bringing out my Inner Girl

Now I was older Mom had been doing extra hours at the store in the evenings and, as a reward for getting good exam grades and being selected for a place on a highly contested art and media foundation year, she used that overtime money to get me my own laptop. I was thrilled, but there was more. She had done so well selling one brand of cosmetics that she had been rewarded with a day at a spa for two and she wanted to take me with her! I so wanted to go, but I made all sorts of excuses and kept saying that surely she would rather take a girlfriend. She was clear. She wanted to go with me and she knew I would love it. There was a certain way that she emphasised that last part which made me blush terribly and finally acquiesce. The whole thought of it made little shivers run up and down my spine and I hugged her so hard she told me she couldn't breathe.

It did not take me long to realise that this was her way of telling me that she knew about the other me and this was my chance to be honest. The whole day at the spa was utterly fantastic, especially the manicure, pedicure, facial and body massage. I relaxed completely and loved that I was dressed exactly the same as Mom in a white utility dressing gown and matching slippers. The technician applied clear nail varnish to my fingers and toes, and on inspecting my legs, which were only really slightly hairy on the lower half, recommended I have those hairs removed as it would look better. I glanced at Mom who smiled and nodded her approval. Finally she asked if I would like to have my face done. I looked at Mom, who was looking absolutely gorgeous, and nodded although I must have looked rather worried as the technician assured me it would be very subtle and not overly feminine. I suddenly felt very brave and whispered that I didn't mind at all and that I wanted to look as pretty as my Mom. I felt myself trembling and my heart was racing. Suddenly I felt Mom's hand softly grasp mine and squeeze it gently. The technician relaxed me with the most beautiful smile and got to work. Mom's hand slowly pulled away and I felt so calm and full of bliss, knowing that with no words passing between us, she not only knew, but was completely happy for me.

Only girls who have had their feminine beauty revealed by a talented makeup artist will know that feeling when you look in the mirror and have to pull faces just to prove that it's really you staring back from the looking glass. Mom was laughing as well as complimenting me. I gave her a massive hug, and she warned me to be careful not to ruin all that hard work. I laughed. Mom said we'd be late for lunch and the two technicians worked as a team brushing out my hair and applying various gels and sprays to create a short but rather sexy style. It was only as Mom started saying thank you and goodbye to them that the reality of the situation dawned on me. Mom sensed my nervousness and pulled me back in front of the full-length mirror. I'll never forget that moment as I looked at us and she said, "Come on daughter. Let's grab something to eat honey, I'm starving!"

I should have been a complete bag of nerves, but instead I felt wrapped in a protective cocoon and completely at ease. We eat lunch at a table on a patio overlooking the lush garden. We were still in our utility gowns and slippers. The gentle breeze found its way through every gap in the loose clothing and felt like an electric touch. I barely touched my food and Mom said nothing. She knew how I felt. We shared a bottle of prosecco as Mom had cleverly driven us over the state line and I could drink legally. There's something special about a sparkling glass of wine when you are full of joy with someone you love. As Mom was driving, I had more than my fair share and that whole day set the bar very high for me in terms of what a good date was. It was probably just as well I was so tipsy as otherwise leaving the spa dressed as a grungy boy, but looking like a beautiful princess would have completely freaked me out.

It took almost two hours to get home and I was so overwhelmed by everything that I slept the whole way. When we arrived she woke me gently and she sat me in the living room before ordering a pizza which was my absolutely favourite food. I was feeling hungry enough to eat a horse! She knew how much I had enjoyed myself at the spa, but apart from that single word 'daughter', nothing else had been said. When she came in she was clutching a brightly wrapped present. I stood up and hugged her.

"Oh Mom!" I said, a lone tear running down my cheek. There was so much emotion, meaning and understanding between us. She wiped the tear away with a tissue and placed her other hand under my chin, raising my face towards hers. Her eyes were also weepy, but she had this enigmatic smile playing on her lips which I can still visualise today. Her serene and happy countenance told me that my secret was no more, that she was happy with me just as I was, and that everything was going to be so much better.

"Aren't you going to open your present?" She whispered, her eyes shining in anticipation.

We sat down and I carefully undid the pink paper, my heart fluttering as it revealed its contents. A beautiful set of lacy bra and panties in ivory with nude stockings were lying on top of an electric blue dress. I looked up at her. I wish I could have seen my own face. I was not smiling because I was fighting back the tears, but I could feel my face telling her how much I loved her and how amazingly special she was. She told me to stand up and I let her undress me. She pulled up the panties, strapped on my bra, padding it with some tissue, and then rolled the stockings up my legs. She helped me step into the dress and zipped it up before revealing a pair of black patent court shoes with a three inch block heel and guiding my feet into them. The dress was so pretty with short puff sleeves and reached down to just above my knees. I loved how the material felt, so soft and silky it felt as if the clothes were caressing me! I stood there brushing the dress down and adjusting it. I realised afterwards that although it felt so sexy, I wasn't hard at all, my excitement was showing through a tingling warmth that had filled my whole body.

As I got accustomed to the wonderful outfit Mom handed me a box. Mom's job meant that she had the most ridiculous amount of makeup and she even had several wigs that she used at work to make sure 'her hair' always looked perfect. It was de rigueur that as a beauty consultant you always had to look fabulous. She always did! The box contained a blonde wig, necklace and some clip-on earrings. She helped me adjust the wig and brush it out before clipping on the hoop earrings and placing the silver chain necklace around my neck. She placed a towel around my shoulders and began to apply makeup to my face. I loved the feeling and the fragrances. She told me to go look at myself in the hall mirror. I almost twisted my ankle as I was not used to walking in heels, even block heels, so Mom held my hand and told me to roll my feet, place one foot in front of the other, and focus on my balance. She reassured me that with practice it would all become completely natural, but honestly I found that hard to believe.

When I stood in front of that mirror I could simply not believe what I was seeing. I looked just like a girl, and a very pretty girl at that. My mind flew off in so many directions I just stood there staring at myself, completely spell-bound. I eventually smiled, and the beautiful reflection smiled back at me, only to be joined by another as Mom appeared behind me. The heels made me taller than my Mom now and I felt so elegant. She reached up and put her hand on my shoulder and as she did I felt I wanted to cry.

"Don't cry honey, it will ruin your make-up!" Mom laughed, sensing my emotional state! I laughed back and turned to hug her. It was a lovely warm hug and the magic returned, only to be taken away by the sound of the doorbell.