I was never an athletic kid. I was smaller and more frail than the other boys in the neighborhood. I remember playing catch with my step-dad the ball came at me and I moved out of the way. It hit my nose and I started crying and bleeding. My dad was ashamed of me. We never played catch again.
Soon after that my mother started calling me her "special little guy." This made me feel good at first but then I started to think that "special" might be code for something else. Did mom think I wasn't normal? That I was special in that way?
I would get haircuts every three months at Aunt Judy's. She wasn't really my Aunt but just a good friend of the family's. When we missed two appointments I asked mom why I hadn't gotten a haircut and she told me that she liked how it was looking as it got longer. When we finally went to Aunt Judy's again, I learned that I was getting a "special cut." There was that word again.
Not only did she trim my hair (just a little), she colored it a little. She even helped cut and shape my finger and toe nails. I felt so good being pampered like that.
Mom told me that fashions were changing and that to look good in the fall when I went back to school that I should start wearing more pastels and lighter shades. She bought me new outfits to wear that felt a little strange at first, the way they hugged my body in different spots than I was used to.
One day when I got home from Sunday School mom told me that we were going to spend the whole day together. "Just me and my special little..." she said, trailing off.
She wanted to play dress up with me and asked if it'd be fun if I dressed up like her. I thought it sounded more funny than fun but went along with her. Surprisingly, she had clothes picked out for me already and they were all my size; a short skirt and blouse. I went to take them into the bathroom to change and she stopped me.
"No, no, I have more for you. Take off your clothes right here."
I stripped down to my tighty whities and she corrected me, "No, that won't do. I even have new underwear for you!" I blushed at the idea of being naked in front of my mom but I knew she had seen it all before.
After I stripped off my shorts she held aloft a pair of light pink panties as if they were a trophy. "Try these on for size," she told me. This felt like we were playing into dress up a little too hard but I took them from her and slid them on.
It felt like something in the world shifted. There was something soft about the material against my skin that felt like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I never thought that something like a flimsy pair of pink underwear could make such a difference.
"How does that feel, baby?" she asked me.
The words caught in my throat. I coughed and managed to croak out the word, "Fine." My own voice sounded unfamiliar to my ears. It sounded higher and lighter.
Mommy smiled and purred, "Oh, good. I'm so glad."
She turned and came to me with a pink brassier. I raised up my arms like I had seen Mommy do when she put on her own bra and felt her put the straps around me.
There was a tightness that enveloped my chest, bringing the world into focus even more. It felt like Mommy was hugging me tightly as the clasp clicked into place.
"Now we can put on this skirt and blouse, baby," she said, satisfied with how I was responding to playtime. After Mommy had put the skirt on me, my knees stated feeling weak. And after the blouse I felt swimmy again. Things started to go dark around the corners of my eyes when Mommy had me sit in front of her vanity and started putting make-up on my face. When she had me turn to admire her handiwork I didn't recognize myself.
"Who is that?" I heard someone say in that same light, high voice.
"That's you, silly. That's my special little girl."
With the world "girl," everything started to fall into place. It was like the last piece of a puzzle had found its home.
I remembered the strange doctor's appointments Mommy had been taking me to and the shots she stated giving me. I thought about the way my body had been changing. I saw again the way Mommy put me to sleep every night by waving a pocket watch in front of my eyes. I had been having errant thoughts but they always came with a voice that sounded like Mommy's, not my own.
"Do you want to be my special little girl?" she asked me.
"Yes, Mommy," I said, realizing that voice is now mine. Taking possession of it.
"Oh, that's good. I have so many plans for you."
As if on cue I heard the front door open.
"Oh good," Mommy said, "Daddy's home."
Those last two words lit something inside of me. I turned toward the door and got to my knees, my eyes down, my knees spread, my mouth ajar.
My dad.... my Daddy came through the door. "Is it done?" ha asked.
"It's done," she assured him. "She's all yours, Daddy."
My heart lifted at her words. I felt small, delicate, and completely submissive. I felt like I was in the place that I belonged. Daddy didn't want a boy. He wanted a girl. A good girl. A special little girl. And that was me.
He came to me and I instinctively reached up to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his pants. He unzipped his pants and I moved to fish his cock out of his pants. Feeling it, seeing it, smelling it, I admired his manhood, seeing what a real man looked like. Kissing it, tasting it, sucking it, I felt his power over me.
Mommy was at my side, watching intently, giving me pointers. Encouraging me to make Daddy feel good. Encouraging Daddy to fuck his girl's throat. He began thrusting into my mouth, his cock cutting off my air.
"Daddy is too much for me," Mommy told me as I gagged on his cock. "And you're no good as a boy so decided to make you our little girl. Our special little girl." I began working Daddy's cock more vigorously, wanting to show him how much I needed to please him.
He moaned and this sounded like beautiful music to me. I took him deeper, feeling truly complete, knowing that I was pleasing Mommy and Daddy for the first time. I was their good little girl and would finally be what they wanted.
A wave of pleasure coursed through me as I heard Daddy grunt before filling my mouth with the warm wetness that came out of him. It tasted salty and strange but I swallowed it anyway, reveling in its newness and my new place in the world.
