Transformed by Nature

I was giddy from these events when Ann took me over to Morag's dressing table. There she applied some light makeup and fitted me with a short wig. I gasped as I glanced in the mirror because the image before me was of Morag. Our facial features were quite similar in any case. Still, now with the addition of the wig and cosmetics, I was, to all intents, her identical twin.

Ann handed me a pair of sandals. "Here, put these on while I get comfy."

As I put the footwear on, she took off the gym knickers she was wearing, picked up pair of Morag's white frilly knickers and put them on.

"That is so much better. Now we are both in nice sexy panties."

Ann took my arm, led me outside, and locked the door behind us without further preamble. As we headed down along the pavements towards town, I started to tremble and shake, unable to cope with the unfamiliar and unnerving sensations now threatening to engulf me, not least the fear of being recognised as a boy in a dress.

I clung tightly to Ann's hand and steadily calmed down while she reassured me. "Look, no one is giving us a second glance. They have seen Morag and Ann out together so many times before."

I looked around and realised Ann was correct. No one, even those nearby, was paying any attention to us. So, I relaxed and began enjoying the walk. Still, I could not help but feel very exposed. Morag's gear was flimsier and more revealing than my boys' wear; I was showing far more flesh than I had as a little boy in short trousers. Even then, my family jewels were better protected, not just encased in a flimsy garment that could be fully revealed to the world if the merest gust of wind lifted my skirt. These feelings of trepidation went sky-high when we entered the tennis arena and went to empty seats amongst the one hundred or so spectators. However, as before, people paid little attention to two more girls joining the all-female audience. I settled down and enjoyed watching what turned out to be an excellent set of matches. Moreover, seeing those players in their light tennis kit with their booty-hugging white panties on show most of the time made me realise that I was far from underdressed. In fact, by discrete people watching, I realised I blended in with most of the audience.

During an interval between matches, I was approached by a mother and her daughter.

"That is such a lovely dress. Where is it from? I would love to get one like it for my daughter."

The question caught me off guard, and I could have raised suspicions if I said I did not know. However, the stars must have been aligned because I remembered Morag's happiness when she got the dress. I will never understand why I retained that trivial fact, but thankfully I did and could tell the lady which shops it was from.

The daughter smiled when her mother said, "Thank you. We will visit there on the way home."

I was so relieved to have gotten through this encounter unscathed that the remaining matches were little more than a blur. Ann said as we left at the end of the tournament, "That was impressive. I did not remember where that dress was bought and could not have helped."

"A pure fluke. I have no idea why that information stuck in my mind, but I am so glad it did."

Only when I later reflected on things did I realise this was not a matter of chance? Deep down, I knew, understood, and cared more about my sisters than my apparent indifferent outer self would have suggested. The real significance of this non-macho behaviour would only become evident in the following months.

As Ann and I made our way home, my heart rate jumped when I spotted two boys from my school class heading our way, and it went through the roof when they recognised Ann as a friend of their sisters and came over to talk with her. I quivered like jelly at first but then composed myself once I realised I was just another girl to them, nothing more, nothing less.

As we chit-chatted, I saw that the boys were paying little attention to my face. Instead, they were obsessed with my blouse-covered boobs. Ever the minx, I noticed that Ann was playing to their fixation by getting her breasts to gently bob up and down. The boys were so mesmerised that they zoned out and became incoherent. Ann tipped me the wink to follow her lead, and to my great surprise, I found the boys were equally captivated by my bobbling titties; seeing their wide-eyed stares, I could not help but think of them as rabbits caught in my high-vis headlights.

I was pleased by my successful use of female wile and grateful to Ann for teaching me. But I was also bewildered. Although I was cross-dressed and playing a girl, underneath, I was still a boy, right. So, why was I so keen to learn and adopt female tricks to influence males? Did this suggest I had some hankerings to be a girl? I tried to shut down this idea because it was so against the societal dogma that boys are boys and girls are girls, and never the twain shall meet. However, given my great comfort and ease both dressed and acting as a girl, I could not entirely quell that thought.

Ann and I finally said our goodbyes to the lads. We headed home, where I reluctantly switched to boys' clothes and returned Morag's gear to its proper place. Ann was not, however, about to relinquish all her control of me. She took off her knickers and handed them to me.

"Put these on. From now on, you will wear my panties most of the time. The exception will be while you are at school; we cannot risk you being caught out by 'oh so sympathetic' boys, can we. I will make sure you abide by my rule. If I find you are not, Mum will learn about your predilections, and your bottom is very aware of what that will mean."

I was happy to abide by Ann's stipulation. I sighed with delight while her still-warm panties settled around my nether regions. To say what happened next was a shock would be a significant understatement. Ann picked up the drawers I discarded earlier and put them on.

"Hmm, not too bad. Nice and airy. Certainly, no worse than passion-killer gym knickers."

This move was incomprehensible. How could Ann consider my rough shapeless underpants as a reasonable alternative to panties? But she seemed to and was in good spirits as she chatted later with Mum and the girls. As the evening progressed, I grasped that the underwear switch was not due to her liking my undies. Instead, it was about strengthening her hold over me. We both knew she insisted I wear her knickers and freely took my drawers, but who would believe that if our secret were to come out. Everyone would be convinced I must have forced Ann to do this. I would be a pariah, and my rear would suffer unbearable pain. So, Ann now had all the power; she knew I would obey her without question and pander to her every need rather than risk the exposure of my pantie fascination.

In the weeks that followed, Ann strictly enforced her rule. Each day once we got home from school, we covertly exchanged our undies and wore them until we went to bed. In fact, I was so enamoured with knickers that I often kept them on all night before discretely leaving them in the laundry basket as I left for school. I always chuckled a little when I saw Ann smuggling my drawers in amongst the other undies in the hamper.

At weekends, Ann insisted I wear panties all the time. Indeed, no major chore for me. So, I would put on a fresh pair when I got up on Saturday and Sunday morning, wear them until mid-afternoon and then swap them with Ann as we did on other days. Everything was okay over the first and second weeks. Still, at the beginning of the third one, I noticed a significant change in Ann's demeanour. While she was happy and chatty after we swapped undies on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, she was instead quiet and introspective following our after-school exchanges on Monday and Tuesday. I did not have to be a rocket scientist to realise that the novelty of wearing my rough and ill-fitting boy's undies had worn off and was now only a chore. In fact, they were probably causing discomfort by irritating her sensitive coochie.

The easy way out of this situation was for Ann to stop our underwear exchanges. However, since they were started at her insistence, such a U-turn would cause so much loss of face that her inherent thrawn streak would not allow it. So, I realised I would have to do something to help Ann out of her self-made trap. I surreptitiously snaffled a fresh pair of her knickers that evening. Then I wore them to school on Wednesday instead of my standard drawers. I was on edge and nervous from the moment I reached the school, terrified that my secret would be spotted, but an event at lunchtime calmed my nerves.

Ken, a boy I knew in passing, came up to me and touched me on the shoulder. "I see that you are wearing panties today. Good for you. I am glad someone else is enjoying the buzz. I saw their unique outline through your trousers, but no need to worry. No other boy here knows enough about knickers to recognise the distinctive contour."

To further reassure, Ken undid his trouser fly a little, just enough to reveal a smidgen of the light green panties inside. I did the same in the spirit of goodwill, and he sighed at seeing my light blue ones.

After a few seconds, I spoke. "Wow, I am so pleased that I am not the only one. How did you start? How long have you been wearing them?"

"Curiosity about my sister Jane's panties got the better of me, and once I tried a pair on, I was hooked. Three weeks later, I am still beguiled by them. Luckily, Sis's knicker drawer has many multiples of the same style and colour, so if I borrow two or three different pairs and leave them in the laundry after use, Sis is none the wiser. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do."

"I do. I can hardly believe how happy panties make me feel."

Ken and I returned to our classes as the school bell rang. We did not become close friends but would occasionally have a discrete chat about our unique experiences whenever we bumped into each other at school. Sadly, despite his excellent care, he was caught out by his Mum, Wilma, around three weeks later and got the thrashing of his life. He never dared to try on Jane's knickers again.

Thankfully, those events were way into the future, so they did not impact my experiences during my first school day in panties. Indeed, I was feeling quite pleased with myself when I arrived home. Ann was quite sullen when we met, but a broad smile broke out as I took off my panties and handed them to her.

"Oh my, you understand and are willing to take this risk for me."

"Panties are comfier and sensual than abrasive boys' drawers. I will not let you suffer and will do what is necessary to keep you happy."

Ann kissed me on the cheek. "You are a special brother and could be an even better sister."

Ann, bless her, then took charge; she hid a bundle of clean knickers in the bottom drawer of my unit and regularly topped it up. From then on, I put on a fresh pair every morning and put my drawers in my schoolbag, just in case. On days I had PE, I reluctantly donned the pair of drawers and put the panties in my schoolbag instead. After PE, I switched to panties and wore them until I got home, even if PE was the day's last class.

These arrangements worked well for me, and, despite a few near misses, other than Ken, no one at school had any inkling I wore panties. The same could not, however, be said for home. Isobel and Morag quickly twigged to the new closeness between Ann and me and, with sisterly resolve, soon got her to reveal the facts. Thankfully, they were enchanted by the arrangement between Ann and me, and both added pairs of their knickers to my collection. Moreover, Ann always told me how happy Isobel and Morag were when she told them I had worn their panties for the day.

Of course, my sisters' actions were not wholly benevolent. They now had almost as much power over me as Ann. Indeed, to emphasise this, they occasionally challenged me on non-PE days to wear one of their bra and pantie sets. Of course, this significantly increased my risks. Still, by leaving the cups empty other than for my small boy boobs and wearing a thick jumper, my secret went largely unnoticed except for some boys who, by chance, spotted the back strap. Fortunately, in an all-boys college, they had no reason to doubt my excuse that it was back support. Any girl would have known the truth straight away, as did Ken, who would sometimes discretely twang the back strap just to remind me to keep my guard up.

One day after a reminder tweak from Ken, I mentioned him and his situation to my sisters and to my delight, they all wanted to help him. Each handed me a set of bra and panties they no longer used to give to him. Ken's eyes lit up, and he smiled when he opened the package but quickly became downcast.

"These items are lovely, but I cannot wear them for fear of being caught again by Mum."

"You could just put them on as soon as you arrive at school and change back before you leave for home in the afternoon. With great care, no one at home will be any the wiser."

"Oh my, that will work. I will go and change straightaway."

A smiling Ken returned minutes later. He now had a visible pantie line and was standing slightly more upright with his shoulders somewhat pulled back. Still, those were differences no one else would notice. From then on, he was transformed; he became a happy schoolboy who worked hard and excelled at anything he did. On Friday afternoons, he returned the personal gear to me; I sneaked them into the weekend laundry and returned them to him the following Monday morning.

As a result of this shared penchant, Ken and I became close friends and started spending time together at weekends. We were happy nerds and filled our days doing school projects, playing board games, going on country rambles, and getting to know each other. Despite our ease with each other, Ken still shocked me one Friday afternoon as we walked home from school.

"I know from the tales of older boys that a girl in only her bra and panties is sexy and enticing, their words, not mine. While wearing these intimates under my boy's clothes feels nice and gives me a great thrill, I cannot help wondering if they are as alluring on a boy as they are on a girl or do they just look stupid or pervy? I need to know because it is beginning to annoy me. Mum and sis are away tomorrow. Would you model for me?"

I was taken aback by Ken's request, but I soon realised I was equally curious; without all the female attire, wig, and makeup, how would I look just in girls' underwear.

"Okay, I will if we both do it."

"That will be perfect."

So, early next morning, carrying a bag containing two identical sets of bra and panties, I headed off to Ken's house. He saw me coming along the street and let me in. We went to the living room and chatted for a while, unsure how to get things underway. However, Ken swung into action once I handed him one of the undie sets. He led me through to Jane's bedroom.

"You can get changed here while doing so in my room."

Jane's room was just like Morag's, the essence of femininity. So, it felt appropriate to quickly discard my boys' clothes and switch to bra and panties. Ken, even faster off the mark, was no slouch, so I was still adjusting my shoulder straps when he reappeared at the door. As I stared at him, my jaw dropped, and my heart skipped a beat, for Ken in bra and panties looked sizzling hot. I gulped and fervently hoped I was not a disappointment to him. Thankfully, I was not, and a broad come-hither smile soon broke out on his face.

Although Ken and I were by now good friends, his next move was completely unexpected. He walked over, took me in his arms, and planted a kiss on my lips. To my great surprise, I was not repelled by this sudden boy-on-boy move. Instead of struggling or trying to break free, I fell under his spell; I leaned in, clasped him tight and settled into a breath-taking snog.

I was astounded but delighted when my little breasts began to firm up and tingle as I got turned on. This reaction prompted me to unhook both bras and swipe them away. I gasped and sighed with sheer delight as my sensitive titties and Ken's smooth chest waltzed together in cosy harmony. As we savoured this erotic joy, our panties touched, and Ken's boy bulge quickly stirred into life. Soon, his undies were tented while mine remained unperturbed.

This stark contrast in our immediate, intimate reactions indicated that Ken and I were interested in girls' wear for entirely different reasons. For him, girls' underwear was sensually exciting, and his considerable thrill from wearing them fed into and boosted his male libido. In contrast, their eroticism kindled and fostered deep feminine instincts and feelings in me while suppressing my sense of masculinity. I should have stopped things once I realised this, but it was too late; sexual hormones were surging, and our curiosities for each other were unstoppable. Besides, if horny Ken was about to treat me as his girlfriend, I was more than keen to have that experience.

Ken and I remained in a deep smooch while he folded back the duvet on Jane's bed, lifted me into it and pulled the covers back over us. I entered a daze, engulfed by strong female fragrances from the bedclothes. Still, my torpor did not last as we quickly started canoodling and tumbling together in a hands-everywhere frenzy. No surprises there, given that neither of us had shared a bed with anyone before and were more than desperate to share and enjoy every sensual delight this intimate opportunity afforded us.

Ken was on top, busily pleasuring my breasts and nipples with his fingers, when I realised his rampant was still trapped, desperately struggling to get out of his panties. Without further ado, I reached down, pushed his panties away, and clasped his dick with my hand. My intention was to provide relief by wanking Ken off. However, as the shaft eagerly wriggled and squirmed in my tight grip, an alternative idea sprung into my brain, arising from a long-forgotten schoolyard tale. So, I pulled the waistband of my knickers down below my crotch, spread my legs a little and then pushed Ken's cock down into the space between my thighs. As I released the waist elastic, it snapped back, dragging the dick's shaft into the v of my crotch. When I finally trapped it in that position by closing my legs, the shaft began to writhe in its warm tight cocoon, and Ken quickly got the message. Fortunately, as he pulled back for the first stroke, some pre-cum lubricated the area around my perineum because the groove would be pillaged many times by his rampant rod shuddered like mad and shot its load of cum. My genitals did not stir during this excitement, but as my sensitised taint was finally coated with cum, it quivered for a few seconds, and a brief wave of pleasure spread throughout my crotch.

Ken and I rested side by side for a short spell before lust rekindled the fire. We began making out as enthusiastically as before and soon had me sighing with delight as he caressed my breasts. But that was nothing. When his hot lips latched onto and eagerly suckled each nipple, he took me to such levels of bliss that I almost fainted. He began to wriggle and sigh when I reciprocated by suckling his small but prominent teats. Then, his dick came to full attention while my hands caressed his buttocks. Soon, Ken was off to the races and had me gasping for breath as, for several minutes, he hungrily humped my v groove before coating it with lashings of spunk. As before, while my genitals remained asleep, joy spread out from my taint as it was doused with cum. I remember thinking that being Ken's 'girl' was not too bad

.

We cuddled together and rested briefly before I got up and headed to the laundry. I removed and washed my very sticky knickers and left them to dry. Then, I picked a pair of Jane's bottle-green school knickers from the laundry basket and put them on. While they were frumpy, I knew their greater thickness and absorbency would help deal with the generous deposits Ken would be making over the remainder of the day. I did not fully understand why our intimate coupling induced joy in my groin and overall well-being. But, for sure, I wanted more and intended to encourage Ken to keep up the excellent work. Not too difficult a task, methinks.