9 Girls

 

There were nine girls, including Miss D and Miss C on stage dressed in white, and many of them with tattoos. They had changed into their outfits right in front of Panties without any of the self-consciousness had there been a m*n present. After, there were hors d’oeuvres and berry pie and wine. Miss D walked Panties around and introduced her to the girls who were extra-friendly. Panties met Miss M, tall and exotic, and chatted with Miss V and Miss CY. Miss D laughed when she heard Panties making plans to meet with Miss CY later in the week. “You knows all about you,” said, “You thought she was making plans for a romantic date with you, when she was actually making a date for you to come clean her house.”

Miss D With a Handsome M*n

 
Miss D met Miss R Friday night for drinks and to catch up. It was a crowded, underground space almost the whole basement space of the building, probably. Panties sat drinking her sissy drink, looking about demurely, and passively as she must whenever her girl friends bring along along a real m*n. Panties sat in her short skirt and V-necked as one of three wearing panties and a bra. She thought about the contrast with the guy, who was smart, nice and dressed in rough, masculine clothing. Later, Miss D observed how Miss R probably didn’t connect the last time Panties had been in the same room with her dressed “in costume,” (that is, in her attempt to pass as a m*n with her), and how every time since, Panties has been dressed in women's clothing. “She probably doesn’t see it (as punishment for) your unladylike behavior, (but instead) thinks this is just who you are now and how you always dress.” She said that Miss R would probably not ever see Panties in costume ever again.

Wet But Protected

 
Like most girls, Panties would be mortified to wear her pad immodestly under her bikini or one-piece. Miss D is less insistent on tampons, but when Panties is menstruating, she certainly needs some form of protection if she wants to go in the water. She is grateful how very considerate is her new trainer, remembering a day in Miami where she was directed by Miss J to bend over (away from several girls tanning in the Miami sun) with a white string hanging, “fashionably” from the back of her pink bikini bottom.

Silly Sissy

 
“Hug her close to you. I want to see you pet Surf Barbie over and over mindlessly, so I can see what a sissy you are. Maybe you can do a crab impression. You know how much I like crabs. Put your arms out to the side, your fingers to the floor, stretch your legs out almost in a split; bend your knees and spread out your toes and try and crawl sideways. That way you know I think of you as a silly sissy.”

Swimsuit

 
“What I find interesting is I didn’t want to have to put on a cold, wet bikini, I threw it in the sink for you to wash, and I took your bikini which used to be my bikini since the closest intimacy you’ll ever have is to wear my old panties and bikinis, and I knew it would fit (and wore the bikini)... I had a wonderful time watching the crabs. While you swam in the pool in your pink bikini.”

Leaks

 
Panties was in her nightie lingering over the last thoughts of the day when she remembered it was the final day of the month. She did not exactly jump out of bed to put on her pad and sanitary belt, nor did she look forward to the extra time in the morning dealing with her first heavy flow. She was grateful it didn’t come earlier, like the night Miss D caught her in a moody moment and asked her to reenact something she had heard Miss J had enjoyed. “You should understand that I’m a very empathic person and I pick up on other’s moods, so the last thing we do tonight, I want you to put on the pink polka dot date panties (Miss C) made you buy and then you’re going to lie on your back and spread your legs and kick your legs up in the air like a cockroach (that can’t get up). Then you’re going to flip over on your belly and crawl like a slug and touch your nose to the glass.” She thought a moment and continued: “Then I want you to come up on your hands and knees, table top and shake your hips and do a panty dance for me. Then you’re going to bark like a dog.” Panties was emphatic about not giving her this to remember forever, but she pressed on: “Come on, I know you can do it. Lie down on your back. Come on.... Otherwise I’ll pour wine on you. I’m sure you’d rather do it without having to clean up the mess.” Anyone passing in the dark, tropical street below the balcony might have heard her clear, gay laugh.