The Door Left Unlocked Pt. 01

Bryan was spending a leisurely morning in his bedroom. He'd gotten up early and had a bowl of cereal, then retreated to his bedroom for some solitary time. His computer was open and his screen showed one of the half dozen tabs he planned to use for today. The camera was already checked for direction and level, so when he got to that point he could just start the app and record. His time. Alone time. Without the step-sister who seemed intent on making his life miserable.

Their parents were gone on a 14-day cruise. With travel time to the port, that gave them most of 16 days home alone. They didn't need to work, since her father made enough to pay for their college tuition. At least, what was left of tuition after good grade scholarships and dad pulling strings at his alma mater. Bryan didn't like going to college with his nasty step-sister, but he hardly ever saw her at school and it did mean he could lounge all summer.

School had let out just a couple of weeks ago, but he felt pressed to enjoy life before the fall semester and his senior year began. Becky would also be a senior. Because of that "step" relationship, it was possible for two siblings to be only four months apart in age. She was older, and she rarely let him forget it.

They had lived together now for almost five years. Her father had divorced a promiscuous alcoholic mother. His father had died of cancer just before he started high school. Their surviving parents had met through a dating service for single parents and just before the wedding Bryan and his mother had moved to the larger house, owned by a successful accountant, Becky's father.

He was glad his mother was happy, and there did seem to be an honest and deep love between the parents, but he had been forced to give up his house, with all its memories, his friends, and his school, even his home town, and in return he gained a good father and a step-sister who harassed him from the day she met him.

She usually slept in late whenever she could, used to an easy life that he still was not fully comfortable with. That, and the fact their parents were gone, as in not coming home if they forgot something, for two weeks was the reason he chose today to indulge in his hobby. He didn't know what else to call it. He certainly spent enough time researching it.

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted by Becky's voice, being shouted from somewhere. It got closer and he rolled his eyes. Just two of them in the house and she had to shout. What was her problem? He bent forward when he suddenly heard words clearly, and they sounded like, "... and then we can go to the coffee shop and ..."

He realized she was talking to him, coming toward his room. His eye caught the door. The lock was not turned. He had assumed she would sleep late and he would be out by the time she woke up. But surely, she would at least knock first. The voice had continued and now the door flew open.

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Becky had her two weeks all laid out. She and her useless step-brother were going to go out shopping, then swimming, then visit her friends, and he was going to follow her lead all week. After all, it was her house, her neighborhood, and her friends. He had even dated a few of her friends, but college had broken that up. With her parents gone, she was the oldest and she was in charge.

She decided to do something different and get an early start so she could be mostly done shopping before calling her friends to join her at the food court in the mall. She ate, showered, and decided it was time to find Bryan. Since he was nowhere else in the house, he had to be in his bedroom.

She called out, letting him know her plans for the two of them, and kept talking as she approached the door to his bedroom. His sanctuary, he called it. She laughed. There was no sanctuary from her in this house. She grabbed the handle and strode into the room, freezing after two steps, still holding the door handle.

Bryan stood in front of his dresser, slightly bent forward, the back zipper of the dark green dress he wore open enough to show her had a black bra on. His hair was brushed into a different style than his usual ponytail, falling gracefully to his shoulders, a little longer in back than to the sides. His mouth was wide open, as was a container with makeup on the dresser.

He broke the uncomfortable silence. "Shit, Becky, don't you ever knock, or ask, or, damn, I just wanted some privacy and you come rolling in here like you own the place."

Phrases shot through her mind, things like, "I do own it" or "Why should I knock?" or "Why should I do what you want?" Instead, what came out of her mouth was, "Bryan, what are you doing?" It sounded like a sincere question and they were both surprised by it.

"Can you at least close the door?" Bryan was looking for an escape route, but realized it went right past one of the last people he wanted seeing him like this.

Becky was beginning to recover from her surprise. "Bryan, it's just you and me in the house. I'm here now. What difference does the door make?"

She was right, but he still said, "Please?" and to his surprise, she closed the door. She was now inside his room, but at least the door was closed.

"Ok," Becky said after a deep breath, "so, what's up? Costume party? Your clothes are all in the wash? You decided that you can't get it up so .. oh, no, sorry, I didn't mean that last one. Bryan, what's going on? Shit? Have you got falsies in there?"

He had turned around, surprised that she wasn't making fun of him, and realizing she had actually stopped herself as she began to make fun of him. Her question made him look down and he was reminded of the forms he had put into the bra to give him a B-size appearance. "Uhm, yeah, they're silicon forms, like cancer survivors wear, only these were cheap." Why was he telling her?

She took a step closer to him, her head tipping a bit. "Ok, zip up and let me see what you've got so far. No makeup on, but you seem to have the clothing in place."

He hesitated and she nodded, telling him to go ahead, so he zipped and stood looking at her, feeling defeated.

Becky moved a little to each side. He was no muscle man. His arms showed muscle, but it was more definition than size. He really did look like a fit girl. His hips swelled a little from his thin waist. The scoop neck didn't hint that the breasts were anything but his. She now noticed he had nylons on, and his legs looked amazing in them. A pair of 3-inch heels was on the floor near his feet. Finally looking up at his face, she realized he had soft features and his blond hair kept his closely shaved beard from making him look too manly. They were both about five and a half feet tall and she realized he would probably fit into her clothes, though the chest might be a bit baggy since her bust was a C size. With his hair brushed from the side instead of parted in the middle, he really did look quite feminine. She really wanted to see him in makeup.

"You've seen it, so can you please leave now and go tell your friends and ruin my life?"

"Not yet." She shook her head. "I mean, I'm not going to leave yet, not the rest of it. Why do you think I would ruin your life?"

He tipped his head. "Maybe it's because you usually do? You've interfered with my relationships, tried to control me, treated me like some second class moron, and barged into my bedroom without knocking." He put his hands on his hips, which he immediately recognized as a bad idea and put them back at his side. "So tell me, which would shock you more, seeing me like this, or seeing me naked watching porn."

She walked up to him, causing him to back up against the dresser. "Naked watching porn would probably be worse, because you'd probably be petting the snake. Oh my god, where IS the snake? You do have one, right?"

The urge to scream at her was strong, but he realized she was just asking, and it wasn't the jab she usually threw at him. In fact, since she had seen him, she had been behaving strangely. "Yes, I have one. It's tucked. A bulge in a dress would look ridiculous."

"What does tucked mean? Where is it?" Becky seemed honestly curious.

Bryan hissed a, "Shit," and lifted the hem of the dress to show the pantyhose over the panties and a slight bulge between his legs. "Tucking is bending it back and pushing things up into the soft areas as much as possible. And trust me, trying to get stiff like this is really painful." Good grief, why had he said that?

She reached out an arm. "May I? Oh my god, this is weird, but I'm curious how you hide it so well."

"Are you serious?" She nodded and he sighed as he spread his legs. "Should I turn my head and cough while you're down there?"

She stopped. "Huh?"

"Sorry," he replied, "male humor. That's how they check for hernias." He felt her hand run along the nylon and then between his legs. He tried to figure out why he let his evil step-sister touch him there.

She was running her hand along his cock and balls and saying, "Wow, you aren't tiny Tim for sure, and you got it all hidden away. How long did it take to learn how to do that?"

"There are guides online, so it only took a couple of tries. It's a lot harder, no, more difficult without the pantyhose, though. And a lace thong looks stupid with the tape holding... it ... oh shit, why am I telling you all this?"

Becky took her hand away and stepped back. There was no smile, no sneer, nothing but her normal face. "Maybe because I'm honestly curious. I mean, I knew a guy in college who wore dresses, but never got the details about tucking and boobs and shit. You are amazing, Bryan. But I really almost hate to ask."

He crossed his arms, making his "breasts" stand out more. "Ask what? You're already really confusing me by being nice."

She tipped her head again. "Wow, I AM being nice, aren't I? This is really awkward, but I just have to ask. What do you DO when you dress up?"

"Oh shit, there's history there, but really, I just enjoy the sensations. That feeling of 'I'm wearing a dress and women's clothes' kind of forbidden fruit."

"Do you go out?" She was trying to feel her way through this situation.

His eyes widened. "No, I don't go out. This is my personal, well, shit, now OUR personal secret, if you keep it that way. I just dress up when nobody is home and walk around for a while. I thought you would go out and I'd have the house to myself while you hung out with your chick friends."

Now she pointed at him. "My chick friends? Really? You put on a bra, pantyhose, and a dress and call them chick friends?"

He threw his hands up. "Ok, you're right, it's not a good term. Shit, I didn't expect you of all people to ever find out and here I am and you own my ass so what are you going to do with it? Let's just stop playing around and get to the part where you rip out my heart or something."

She pouted. "Bryan, you're right. I've been a bitch to you. I can't tell you what that dress has done, but, damn, you look good like that. You're still a guy, but you look good like a girl. I'm not going to tell anybody, but I'm going to encourage you to open up if you think this is you."

"Open up? You mean like tell people? Come on, Becky, you know how people look at guys in dresses."

She got a little angry. "So what the fuck are you doing all tucked and dressed and sporting those fake boobs? Come on, do you just like a little air on your balls, are you trying to get laid, looking for some cock to suck, what the FUCK are you doing this for?"

"I, oh shit, Becky, can we go down and get a coffee in the kitchen?" He was fidgeting now and really just wanted to change back to Bryan.

"Not until you finish your makeup. I want to see you as you planned to be, and I'll help you if you want. Look, I know I've been a bitch, and you have no reason to trust me, but I'm being as sincere as the daughter of a cheating alcohol drinking mother who could lie her way out of almost anything can be. I want to hear your story. And I'll be honest, part of it is you look like the sister I always wished I had. If I push too hard, I give you permission right now to shut me down." She paused for breath. "Now, makeup, then coffee. I want to see lipstick on two cups."

He did his makeup while she watched, only making a few comments and pointing out they were just suggestions, but he tried them and agreed they made him look better than his own attempts. By the time his makeup was done he was nodding approvingly. He got up to follow her down for the coffee when he paused.

"Erm, Becky, I planned to do this before, so please don't say anything." He started the video on his computer and slowly turned around. Then he stopped the video again. "I don't know why. Maybe it's to try to get it better."

"Come here, brother." Becky hugged him, feeling the sensations of the fake breasts, his hair hanging free, and his tucked manhood. "Let's get that coffee and talk. Again, your secret is safe with me, even if you don't believe it. But I think it's a secret that needs to come out."

He resisted her pull to the door. "And how would your dad see it?"

She turned again. "Yeah, that's a fair question. My dad, your mom. Shit, we're a messed up family, aren't we? And you throw this at me and I have to face myself in the mirror and think, great, my step-brother is a cross dresser. What do I do with that? And then on top of it all I think, is that all he is?"

He understood her statement, didn't like it, but had to accept it. A half hour later they were sipping coffee at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. It seemed strange that she was in jeans and a t-shirt, he was in a dress. It was awkward.

"So, when did you start putting on dresses? And why do you do it?"

Bryan moved uncomfortably in his chair. "I guess I started actually buying dresses to wear when I was a senior in high school. First wearing, well, it's complicated. When I was 12 or 13, I was told to take care of the laundry and as I held up one of my mother's dresses I suddenly had this urge to put it on. She was just a little taller at that point, and I was always kind of skinny, so it fit. Well, it fit about as well as possible for a grown woman's dress to fit on a teenage guy. The waist and arms fit. And the bottom was open. I pulled up on the hem and bent over, felt how it moved, thought about watching girls bending, and it was somehow exciting."

He took a breath. "Besides, it feels different, kind of sexy in an odd way." He saw her eyebrows go up. "Ok, like this. I wear briefs, right? They go down my legs a little, up to my waist, you know how they fit. When I just wear panties, skin that's normally covered is suddenly exposed. I can feel the dress moving on my hips, on my belly. It's just so ... I mean, it's like something lightly brushing me where nothing is supposed to be. I guess, gee, I guess it feels naughty."

"Gonna get a boob job?" She moved the cup to her lips right after saying it.

His eyes got a look of panic. "Oh, shit no. Hey, I'm a guy who likes the feel of a dress. I don't want to actually BE a girl."

Becky put her cup down, banging it maybe a bit harder than necessary. "Something wrong with being a girl?"

He was ready for this argument. "Not if you ARE a girl. Hey, I get that there are guys who don't want to be guys any more and I wish them well. Me, I kind of like all the stuff I have and how it works. With girls. I don't want lesbian sex, I want to, uhm, you know, how men and women do it."

"You want to fuck girls. Oh, get the surprised look off your face. Yes I know the word. It's crazy. I wanted a little sister. Don't panic, I'm not saying I want you to be my sister. My friends were getting little brothers or sisters, and I was all alone. I asked my parents to bring me a sister. I didn't know until years later that dad made damn sure mom took her pills. She was already drinking and running and why dad stayed with her I don't know. I was 5 or 6 when they had a big argument. At the time, I didn't know what fuck meant, but dad insisted mom should only do it with him and she insisted she could do it with anybody she wanted."

She took a sip and he was silent, waiting for her to continue. "Fast forward some years, and I had a successful father married to a woman who everybody knew would spread her legs for any guy who bought her a couple of drinks. I should be a complete basket case, but dad took care of me. He was always there, always listening. He didn't divorce mom as much for her actions as he did because she ran off with somebody and he was having trouble finding her."

Bryan sat, hands on his cup on the counter top. "I hear a but coming."

A little of the snarl, the sneer was back on her face. "Yeah, but then you came along. Your darling mother, who my dad fell for. Suddenly he wasn't there any more. My mother had run off, and now my dad had another girl in his life and when I needed to cry he wasn't always there to hold me. And he married her and YOU came into things, a boy invading my kingdom." She paused a moment. "A boy invading my world, his mother taking my dad away from me."

She looked into his eyes and leaned forward. "I still have a mother out there somewhere. Probably under a man with a line of guys waiting their turn, but she's out there. Your dad is gone. You don't wake up at night wondering if he's safe, or drunk, or what's happening."

Bryan had to control his breathing, and his temper. He took some time to choose his words. "That's cruel," he said softly.

Becky laughed, but it wasn't a humorous laugh. "Yes, it is, isn't it? I'm still the fucking bitch of the house. Maybe one day I'll start drinking a lot and then I can be the bitch of anybody who wants one, just like my mother. Maybe all I am is a cruel bitch destined to be a whore." By now tears ran down her cheeks and she was looking at her cup again.

"Is that why you hate me so much? You're envious that my dad is dead? That your father loves my mom? You think I've got my shit ... together. Oh, now I see. You find me in a dress and now you think I'm all messed up and you feel better about yourself again."

"NO!" She stood up and walked in a circle, running her hands through her hair. "No, no, NO! I found you in a dress and you look good. You look damn good, and you have the courage to say, I just want to wear a dress. Nothing fancy or complicated. I understand why you hid it, but you want to be a man in a dress. That sounds so fucking liberating. I want to hate you even more for it, but you're doing something, being something, people say is all wrong and you're ok. I suddenly see you for you. You're just a normal guy with a little different interest. And me, I'm totally nuts."

This was really uncomfortable for Bryan. He had never seen her this agitated, and he felt he needed to do something. He thought quickly about things she had said and jumped in with both feet. "Becky, you wanna fuck me?"

That stopped her. Mouth and eyes wide open, she bent toward him from the waist. "You dare ask me that? We're supposed to be brother and sister. We can't do that."

He got up and walked toward her. "We aren't really brother and sister. We're sort of in-laws. There's nothing in the law that says we can't fuck every day if we want to."

She was backing up and finally hit the kitchen counter behind her. "Ughh! I can't believe you even talk like that. No, we are NOT going to fuck. Period. Now stay away from me."

Bryan smiled. "Gladly. And I think you just found out that you're a long way from being a whore." He went back to his seat and took a gulp of his now-cold coffee.

As it sank in what he had done, a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "You are an absolute bastard, you know that? I was beginning to think I would have to fight you off."

He looked shocked. "Not a chance. This is a new dress and I don't want it getting torn in a catfight."