I am going to share a little secret with you. I just love to dress my nephews. Actually, anyone for that matter. I know it’s a little shocking, but that’s just the kind of girl I am.
The first time I do so is usually for punishment of some sort. Perhaps a transgression, either real or imagines, but I have the excuse. I usually do something like tell them that to learn respect they must wear something of my daughters – perhaps these lovely pink panties that I have conveniently to hand. An hour or so of that will give them the chance to consider their misdemeanors properly.
I hand them some silk lacy panties from a draw of her things which I’ve kept since she moved out to go to university. They take them, looking nervous, and then always look at me with those big eyes of the totally subservient. I’ve done this many times though. They will find no pity there. I know precisely what I am doing.
They take them, usually a little unsure, and then one of two things happen. Either they take them and run upstairs and put them on or they drop their pants and slip out of their underwear and slide them on.
I will then generally tell them to pull up their pants and that I will let them know when they can change back. Of course, I have a terrible memory and promptly forget. Or so they think.
The next time I decide to do this I will usually insist they wear tights as well. I have several pairs pink and white tights, they look very girly. I do so love the way they look. I can usually tell that my nephews are a little excited by the prospect.
The second time I rarely go very much further, preferring the poor little scamps to get used to it. And they do. I have sent the little monsters to my daughters room as a punishment before, only to surprise them after a few minutes and find them trying on her skirts or a blouse.
By the third time it’s usually evident that they’re not only excited by the prospect, but secretly craving it. That’s usually when I insist on calling them by a nice feminine name. Gerald becomes Geraldine, or Jeanie. Phillip becomes Phillipa or Pippa. I know they love that. The blush on their cheek tells me so.
I do wonder what these little seedlings will grow to be. I do know that they will bring great pleasure to their friends, though. And in the end, isn’t that what it’s all about?
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