Crossing Texas – Chapter Four

Crossing Texas – Chapter Four

I had barely finished shaving and showering when I heard a knock on the door.

“C’mon, Pamela, let’s get going. I don’t want to be up all night with you.” It was Sara. Hurriedly I donned the lavender slacks and white blouse, then opened the door.

“Hurry up, Pamela,” said Sara, as she grabbed Amanda’s sandals and grasped my hand, then pulled me out into the night.

“I don’t know why I got stuck with this job, but I did. Now please don’t embarrass me.”

I slipped on the sandals as Sara drove south, towards the city.

“Sara, I’m really sorry for what I did last night,” I said, trying again to apologize.

“Oh, just drop it. It’s too late. You did what you did, now you have to live with the consequences. Just don’t cross Mandy, cause she will have you arrested, you know.”

“OK, but really, Sara, you surely don’t expect me to., you know.”

“No, what?”

“You know., wear girl clothes.”

“Haven’t you noticed? You already are wearing girl’s clothes.”

“But please, Sara!”

“No, Pamela, no. My job depends upon Amanda’s happiness. So, we will both do just what Mandy wants.”

“Sara, my name is Michael.”

“No. Your name is Pamela, because Amanda says it is. Hey, it’s not my fault that you raped me. You shouldn’t drink so much. But believe me, Pam, you do not want to end up in the Dallas County Jail, especially now that you have no body hair. The men there will., you know.”

Sara pulled her car into the parking lot of a Mervyn’s clothing store.

“Let’s get this done, Pamela, and again, please don’t try to embarrass me, OK? I don’t want these people to think I like, well., a pansy.”

I followed Sara into the store. Don’t embarrass her? Gosh, what about me?

Sara led me directly to the lingerie department. A cute high school girl approached; she had dark hair, a shapely build, and deep blue eyes. Her name tag read “Jennifer”. Jennifer stared at me as if I were a lunatic.

“May I help you,” she asked Sara as she stared at the embroidery on my blouse.

“Yes, please,” Sara said, then turned towards me, “He needs to buy some new clothes.”

“Ah., women’s clothes?”

“Yes. Women’s clothes.”

“These clothes are for him?” Jennifer said.

“Yes,” Sara replied, rolling her eyes so as to convey to the clerk how ridiculous she thinks I am.

“Yes, he wants to wear girl’s clothes. Maybe you can help him pick some out?”

“He really wants to buy lingerie?” Jennifer continued to address her questions to Sara, as if she were a mother shopping for her young daughter.

“Well, OK, I suppose., you know.,” Jennifer grinned as she looked me over.

“May I ask your name, sir?”

“Pamela,” I replied.

“Pamela?”

“Yes., Pamela.” Again I noticed Sara rolling her eyes. Clearly she was not enjoying this shopping trip.

“Here,” Sara said to Jennifer, “I have a list of things he needs.”

Jennifer took the list and read from it aloud.

“Let’s see., hum., several pairs of lacy panties., two panty girdles.. Several feminine bras., several sexy skirts with matching blouses., maybe one or two pretty dresses. high heels. lots of pantyhose. a purse. makeup, including bright red lipstick and nail polish. perfume, slips. a sexy nightgown. and anything else a young lady would love to wear. Wow, Pamela, that’s quite a list!”

“Yes, it is,” I said, flustered. Apparently Amanda had drawn up a full shopping list for me.

“I noticed it says you want to purchase “sexy” clothes, sir” said Jennifer.

“Do you mean sexy in a guy way, like Bruce Willis, or in a girl way, like, say, Brittney Spears?”

“Well,” I stammered, “in a Brittney Spears way.”

“So you want to dress like Brittney Spears, the teen pop diva?”

“Yes, please.”

“Jesus!” she said, “I’ve never done this before. This isn’t a sexual thing, like, you know, you’re not gonna get excited and, you know, do what guys do, you know.?”

Seeing that the shopping trip was stalled, Sara spoke up.

“No, it’s not like that. Believe me. Pamela will behave or else. He just doesn’t feel he fits in as a guy so he wants to be a girl. I know it’s stupid. But heck, if he prefers to wear short skirts, that’s his problem.”

But wearing girls clothes won’t make you a girl, Pamela. There’s more to it than that, you know,” Jennifer said, still unsure of my motivations.

“Please, Miss, just let her buy some clothes, OK?” Sara said, exasperated.

“Pamela’s not a real guy. Not a guy like you and I think of guys. Pamela is a girl. Think of her as just another girl.”

“Oh., OK., I suppose you’re right.” Jennifer then turned toward me.

“Well, come on, girl, let’s find some pretty lingerie for you to enjoy.” Apparently it eased her mind, and her confusion, to refer to me as a girl, and as “her” rather than “him”.

Jennifer beckoned me to follow her. We went to a large area filled with an enormous assortment of women’s panties.

“So, Pamela, “you’re a big fan of Brittney Spears?”

“Yes,” I lied, “I have all her videos and CD’s.”

“Well, you’re not alone. A whole lot of young girls like to imitate her in dress and style and makeup. Now that I understand who Pamela admires,” Jennifer continued, turning to address Sara, “it’ll be easy to select several outfits for her. She may need to shop in the Juniors section, though.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Sara replied, again rolling her eyes.

“Pamela acts like a teenage girl, so she should dress like a teenage girl.” Jennifer was busily holding up panties for me to inspect, then selecting for me only those that were flowery and feminine.

“You know, Pamela, you seem just a tad too old to be so into the Brittney Spears scene. How old are you,” Jennifer asked.

“I’m twenty.”

“Well, I guess that’s Brittney’s age, too. But you know, I’m eighteen, and I grew out of that stage several years ago. I mean, it’s none of my business, but none of the girls at my high school are into her music and style.”

“So? Maybe Pamela prefers to act like a middle school girl,” Sara interjected, apparently annoyed by Jennifer’s meddling.

“That’s her problem, isn’t it?”

“OK, OK!,” Jennifer said, “What about bra size, Pamela? What size are your breasts?” She giggled at her joke.

“I don’t know.” I looked to Sara for help.

“Jesus, do I need to hold your hand all the time, Pamela?, Sara said with obvious exasperation.

“I would really like to get this over with!”

“But Sara, I don’t know what size bra to buy.”

“OK, fairy, OK. Jennifer, please select her size 36B, underwire, and pick out the most feminine bras you have. And anything you can give her for padding, until Pamela’s able to grow, or buy, her own tities. Then, Pamela, you and I will go into the dressing room to get you fitted. I mean, really! You’re not my daughter. I shouldn’t have to dress you.”

“So are you two, like, a couple? Or girlfriends?,” Jennifer asked as she began to select my brassieres.

“No Way!,” Sara exclaimed, “I’m not into dating sissies.”

“I’m, well., I’m her cousin,” I blurted out, hoping to end Sara’s increasingly negative tone.

“Yes,” Sara said, “Pamela’s my sweet adorable gringo cousin. Like, our whole familia is just so proud of little Pammy,” Sara mocked.

“Well, you sure should be. It probably takes real courage for Pamela to be herself,” said Jennifer.

“Yes, it takes real courage for my cousin to buy himself panties and bras.

Yea. Real manly courage.”

Strange, I thought, how Jennifer was now supportive of me while Sara was becoming ever more rude. Maybe, I thought, Sara was angry about the rape. Or maybe she just wanted to go home instead of spending her evening with me at her employer’s behest. Perhaps, I reasoned, Sara was not actually angry with me at all, but was pissed at Amanda and simply was taking it out on me. I hoped this was the case, as I was truly smitten with the young lady.

Between them, Jennifer and Sara had soon gathered a pile of girl’s intimates, including bras, panties, slips, half-slips, pantyhose of various hues, and even a couple of frilly nighties. Sara then sent Jennifer to select some outfits for me, “nice, teenage, colorful and feminine,” she said, “and absolutely no slacks.”

“Amanda says she wears the pants at the Paradise View,” Sara whispered to me as she pulled me towards the ladies dressing room.

“Now strip,” Sara ordered, “and let’s hurry!”

“In front of you,” I protested.

“Yes, dear cousin. After all, I’ve seen what’s in your pants, remember?”

Soon, with Sara’s help, I was wearing pantyhose, lacy rose colored panties with matching brassier, and a sheer slip. I felt totally foolish as Sara stuffed the bra’s cups with several old pairs of pantyhose which Jennifer had provided for that purpose. I couldn’t help but gaze at my reflection in the full length mirror as, under Sara’s guidance, my body morphed from male to that of a slender, half-dressed girl.

“It’s a good thing, my dear cousin, that God made you fairly petite. Just think how ridiculous you’d look if you were stocky and muscular.”

“I don’t consider myself to be petite, Sara,” I protested meekly.

“C’mon Pamela, you certainly are petite! Jesus, I didn’t mean that as a put down. Actually, you look rather sexy in lingerie.”

“Sexy? You mean like a sexy guy,” I asked hopefully.

“Don’t be silly. Don’t be a silly sissy,” Sara added, laughing.

“Pamela,” Jennifer called from outside the dressing room, “come out and let me see how you look.” Before I could resist, Sara grabbed the front of my slip and pulled me out of the security and privacy of the dressing room.

“Wow,” Jennifer exclaimed. I stood still, frozen with anxiety and, I admit, shame. Jennifer had gathered two other girls, also clerks, to help her. They giggled as Jennifer approached me, touched my forearm in a sisterly manner, and addressed her friends.

“So, what do you think? Can we get Pamela looking like Brittany Spears?”

“He already does,” said her friend Katie.

“I don’t think I should be out hear wearing only underwear. May I go back into the dressing room, Sara?”

“Not underwear, Pamela. Lingerie! Your lingerie. Now ask again, correctly.”

Red faced I said, “Please, Sara, I shouldn’t be out here wearing only my lingerie. May I please go back into the ladies dressing room? Please?”

“Oh, don’t worry, boy,” said Katie.

“It’s almost closing time. There’s hardly any customers in the store.”

“Please, Sara!”

“OK, Pamela, but take the clothes with you and finish dressing. I’ve got to get going!”

The girls had soon handed me all I needed to complete my “outfit”, as Katie called it, and I returned to the safety of the women’s dressing room. With difficulty, I began to dress. Why, I wondered, do females choose to dress as they do? It all seems so difficult, with layers of underwear, zippers inaccessibly located in back or on the side, buttons reversed. While I worked at dressing, I could overhear Sara fielding questions posed by the three high school girls, none of whom, apparently, had ever encountered a male in female clothing. Sara took my lie about being her cousin and ran with it.

“Has your cousin always liked girl things,” Jennifer asked.

“Oh yes! That cousin of mine.., you can’t imagine! I remember once when we were just kids, I think Pamela was in the fourth grade, and his mom brought him to visit. His mom and mine went shopping, leaving Pamela with me. I was in my room with my girlfriends when this boy comes into my room and begs to wear my clothes.

“I’m a girl, too,” he said, “just like you are!” I was just soooo embarrassed, as you can imagine. We tried to kick him out of my room, but he started crying. Well, before long my girlfriends had Pamela all cutied up. They put my easter dress on him, pink with lace everywhere, and put my black patent leather shoes on his feet. They put bright red lipstick on him. Then we all walked to the shopping center. He stood out like crazy, wearing an easter dress in mid-summer, but we couldn’t stop him. He even bought Barbie doll clothes that day, telling my friends that he had a Barbie doll at home. It was really embarrassing.”

“What about high school? Did Pamela go to high school,” I heard Katie ask.

“Yes. He was a boy then. I attended the same school, although I didn’t tell anyone that he was my cousin. I remember once Pamela nearly got expelled because he snuck into the girl’s locker room after school, and somehow got dressed in a cheerleader’s uniform. I guess a cheerleader had left her uniform out.”

“He didn’t,” exclaimed Jennifer.

“It’s true! So there he was, wearing a short pleated skirt which barely began to cover his shaved legs, when the entire girls track team enters the locker room. They laughed and taunted him, and even took all his boy clothes. He had to walk home, three or four miles, wearing the cheerleader outfit. Things like that.., well, you girls are in high school. I’m sure you can guess how girls teased him after that.”

“So,” I heard the third girl ask, “Pamela must be gay?”

“Well, he should be,” said Sara.

“No girl would want a guy that steals her clothes so as to play dress up.”

“That’s true,” the girl added.

“I wouldn’t want to ever see my boyfriend wearing panties!”

“You said it,” Sara continued, “but no, I doubt that he’s gay. Although I did hear a rumor at school., well, maybe I shouldn’t repeat rumors.”

“C’mon, tell us,” giggled Katie.

“OK, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. Anyway, after that cheerleading incident, I heard that some jocks had a girl “donate” a short dress. Then, after gym class, the final hour of the school day, those jocks cornered Pamela and made her put on the dress. And then they made him suck a boy’s penis.”

“Right in front of everybody,” asked Katie in awe.

“Yes! Not only in front of the jocks, but the jocks also invited their girlfriends to the big “event”. So there was my sissy cousin, wearing a short dress, kneeling on the floor sucking a penis, right in high school! But I didn’t really see it happen, you know. I heard it from friends who heard it from others that supposedly were there. They could be exaggerating or lying.”

“Wow,” said Katie.

“Right inside school,” added Jennifer.

“What a sissy,” exclaimed the other girl.

“Yes, believe me, I was really embarrassed to be his cousin during high school. I never admitted to anyone that we were related, nor did I ever speak to him when at school. Luckily, with him being gringo-looking and me being Hispanic, few people ever put two plus two together.”

The End of Crossing Texas – Chapter Four.

The story originally came from: https://www.dailydiapers.com/content/stories.html

If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index

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