Thanks to everyone who bought the story so far. If you can please leave a review. I just realized a preview for the story did not appear on Amazon, so here is the first chapter!:
Being a single mother can be daunting at times. It seems to be much harder for mothers with younger children. For me, my husbandAlan and I got divorced when our son Connor was 15-years-old. Alan moved upstate about 30 miles and Connor still saw him every other weekend when they were able to meet. My son lived with me in our suburban home. It was the same house that we raised him in and there were many memories in this household. Connor was 19-years-old when an important decision was made.
My marriage ended because of irreconcilable differences. Alan and I stayed on good terms and were cordial when we meet. I had been single since our divorce four years prior with only casual dating. I heard from Connor that Alan had a girlfriend around this same time. I wanted to start dating again, but had my standards and knew the type of man I wanted to date.
Connor was a sophomore at the local community college and planned to study Business Administration. While not at school, he was either working at his part-time job at Target, out in town hanging out with his friends, or in his room playing video games, or on the computer.
His generation seemed to need some continue guidance above the age of 18 unlike my generation where people got full-time jobs after high school and were able to move out easily. I understood that he meant well, as he’s a good kid, but cleaning having his mom clean his room at that age seemed a little much!
I didn’t mind it really, however one day I found something that I shouldn’t have... or maybe it was something I was meant to find...
One afternoon after I had gotten back early from my job where I worked in public relations at a fairly large electronics company, I decided to clean his sheets after weeks of asking him to do it ended with them remaining the same. Though while I changed the sheet, I noticed a flash of pink down the side of the bed, my curiosity got the better of me, so I investigated.
Pulling on the pink strap, I was surprised to see a rose pink satin bra, with delicate black lace trimming around the tops of the cups. Checking the size I saw it was 32B, much too small to be mine, even in my younger days. Picking up the other mysterious object, I discovered it was a matching high waisted pair of panties, with the same color and black lace trimming.
I tried to think back to the last time Connor had a girl over and couldn’t think of any recent times; he had been a bit slow in the girlfriend department, rarely having one at all let alone having it last for more than a few months.
Placing them down on the floor I continued changing the bedding until it was fresh and new, debating on whether or not to confront him about having a girl around without permission but decided he was 19 now and could make his own decisions. He would tell me when he was ready I thought, slipping the pair back down the side of the bed where they originally lay hidden.
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The next few days were quiet with life going by as normal. Connor mentioned to me that he and Alan were going to a baseball game that Sunday. I planned to visit my sister and her family at some point that weekend.
That Thursday I heard a lot of commotion in his room some reason. A lot of jumping around which was unusual since I thought the days of him jumping on his bed were long over. He had been in his room for several hours, and since I didn’t hear a loud TV, I assumed he wasn’t playing video games. The instinct inside of me decided to put down my glass of wine and pause Netflix to go upstairs and check on him.
A funny feeling came over me as I walked up the stairs. It was part nerves but also part curiosity. The door was closed, but turning the knob, I found it to be unlocked. This was when I received the shock of my life as I saw my son quickly turn towards the door wearing a curly blonde wig and pink chiffon dress with his bra stuffed.
Spinning around on his hose-clad feet his mouth, red with rather poorly applied red lipstick was wide open in horror as I looked at the scene before me in disbelief. Here was my son wearing a soft pink dress with a little glitter design on the shoulders and a cute bow belt design.
His chest puffed out a little clearly from wearing a stuffed bra while his usually hairy legs were hidden with white tights. Lastly looking up at his face I saw the amateur makeup job, involving mainly only lipstick over applied and mascara, the blonde curls framing his face, however, giving it a rather feminine appearance.
“Mom.... I can explain!” he eventually stammered, frozen in place like a deer in the headlights.
I paused for a moment before speaking, my mind racing but trying to remain calm, thinking of the best way to handle this situation. “I’m… sorry. I should have knocked, I just didn’t expect...”
“It’s… just for a bet! A few of the guys at work made a bet with the forfeit being crossdressing. Unfortunately, I lost.”
I looked at him strangely, because I could usually tell when he was lying. Part of me wanted to believe him. Given the circumstances, I didn’t know what to believe. I just said, “It’s okay honey...” and left the room.
Part of me was very confused, not so much embarrassment, but more of shock. I didn’t think Connor was gay, and nothing in his life made me believe he would be a crossdresser. I went back downstairs because it was time for more wine. The commotion in the room stopped, as I assumed Connor had stopped dancing and gotten back into his normal clothes. I didn’t mean to humiliate him if I did. Maybe I should have gone back right then and had a talk with him. Instead, I was confused on what to do so I quickly googled things like ‘found son in dress,’ ‘boy wears panties,’ and ‘boys who want to be girls.’
A few trans help blogs came up but after reading for a little bit, I thought it was unlikely he wanted to be a girl full-time. Next, I found a few crossdresser support sites and read a little of the information.
Learning that most crossdressers are straight and that it has no bearing on sexuality, I felt a little relieved. Though I would love him no matter what. One of the most interesting pieces was an article about a wife who caught her husband crossdressing she read through it reading about how she helped him and accepted him, buying him clothes and helping with makeup and hair. Thinking back to Connor’s poor makeup skills, I laughed a little at the image of helping him.
Closing the laptop, I finished the glass of wine for a little extra courage before again heading upstairs, this time knocking on the door before asking, “Connor? Can I come in and talk?”
After a brief pause, Connor said behind the door, “Sure...”
He was laying on his bed back in boy clothes as expected with gray sweatpants on and some black band T-shirt. He glared at the TV even when I walked in.
“Are you sure you are okay with what happened?”
Connor turned to me, his blue eyes a little full, perhaps from crying. “Yeah, again... Let’s just not mention it again, ok?”
I walked closer towards the bed, “Was it really a bet at work? Wouldn’t they have wanted you to dress at work rather than in your bedroom at home?”
Connor paused before admitted the truth, “Fine... they are my clothes. And I wanted to wear them...”
I was proud of him for admitting that to me, “That’s okay Connor. How long have you been doing this?”
“Maybe a year or so...”
“What made you want to decide to dress like that?” I asked.
Connor said, “I was just curious...”
“Where did you get the clothes?” I asked, knowing they aren’t mine. Something about my son wearing my panties is also a little weird so in a way, I was glad he got his own.
“I bought them online....” he answered still doing his best not to look at me.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, gently patting his leg. “And do you think you... should have been born a girl?”
He looked towards me finally, though as if I was crazy, “What the hell?! No, I just do it occasionally jeez Mom!”
“Right, of course, I thought so. Well, I did a little reading online, and I want to help you,” I offered, hoping he wouldn’t be too shy about it.
“Help? Like what?”
“I noticed your makeup was a little... Hastily done, I can show you a few things, tips!” I mentioned, finding the idea a little fun. Like when I was younger and helped with makeovers.
Connor squirmed a little, “That’s really kind of freaky Mom.... I don’t have ANY plans to go out like that in public, so I don’t think makeup skills really matter.”
“I’m just trying to help you sweetie,” I said as I patted his knee. I rarely called him sweetie, but it felt appropriate given the circumstances.
“Thanks Mom, but I would rather just drop it okay?”
Slightly disappointed, I got up and left the room. Considering it has been a year since he started this, I have a feeling this is far from over.
Fantastic story!!!!!! Hope you continue so we know what happens next to Connor
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