MOTHER TURNED MY PANTY FETISH INTO A WAY OF
LIFE
“Take these panties out of the box and put them on the table with the other
panties,” said Valerie. It was Thursday, the day that all the clothing recently
donated to the thrift shop came back from the laundry. I was the only boy
working in the shop; all the others were ladies from our church, which is
the sponsor of the charity shop. I was there because my mother was in charge
of the store, and she had me help out several days each week after school.
However, mother never was in the shop on Thursdays. It was her day off, and
Valerie was in charge when mother wasn’t there.
I took the box over to the lingerie table and turned it upside down so the
panties fell out in a heap. “Oh, no!” exclaimed Valerie, running over to
the table. “You have to sort them according to size and then display them
attractively.”
I didn’t like the idea of having to arrange a huge stack of girls and women’s
panties on the table. I looked around and saw that the panties already on
the table were all in a mess. I asked Valerie why I should bother sorting
the new panties that had been in the box.
“They’re mixed up because customers go through them and often leave them
in a jumble,” she said. “You will just have to tidy all of them up.”
I went back to the table and began to sort the panties according to size.
They were in assorted styles and made of various fabrics. I had to pick up
each pair and look for the tag inside to find their size. As I did so, I
noticed how soft and delicate panties are. I liked how they felt in my fingers,
but I didn’t want anyone to notice I had any interest in them. Once I had
all the panties sorted by size, I arranged them on the table by color and
style with the smallest panties at one end and the largest at the other end.
Then for each size, I arranged them in an overlapping diagonal so each pair
of panties lying underneath would peek out a little for the customers to
see. After that, I had a box full of brassieres to sort and arrange, and
I worked hard to make them into a nice little display on the next table.
I set them out in little rows and was proud of the how I made them look.
Valerie complimented me on the fine job I had done and then had me sort and
display a box of slips and nighties that had recently arrived. I spent the
afternoon unpacking other boxes, but I kept thinking about the nylon panties,
how good they felt to handle and how they excited me. I was still thinking
about girlish panties when I went to bed that night with a raging boner in
my pajama pants.
The next day I went with mother to the thrift shop early in the morning until
it was time for me to go to school that was nearby, and my mother noticed
how neat and tidy the lingerie tables were. “Who straightened up all the
lingerie?” she asked.
“Your son, Luke, did,” said Valerie. “I think he has a talent for handling
ladies’ lingerie. He did an especially fine job with the panties,” she said
with a laugh. My mother laughed too, and I burned up blushing.
The following Thursday there weren’t any more panties that came into the
shop, but Valerie told me to tidy up the lingerie table anyway. This time
the feel of nylon panties on my fingertips was even more exciting. That night
as I lay in bed I began to wonder what it would feel like to wear a pair
of girls’ panties. The next few days I kept thinking about what it would
be like to wear silky panties all the time like woman and girls do. When
my mother walked by I tried to visualize the panties she was wearing under
her dress.
Then on Sunday afternoon, she went to visit an elderly member of our church,
and I found myself alone in the house. I went into my mother’s bedroom and
located her lingerie drawer. As I opened it, I got a whiff of a heady perfume.
In the drawer, I could see neat piles my mother’s slips, brassieres, girdles,
and pantyhose, and a garter belt and stockings on one side, but what stole
my attention were the perfectly arranged stacks of her carefully folded delicate
panties. I held up one pair and then another. Each pair seemed more wonderful
than the last. I finally chose a pair of pink nylon panties that had a lace
trim on the sides and leg openings. I closed the drawer and with my heart
pounding, tiptoed out of the room.
I went down the hall to the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I quickly
got out of my clothes and I slipped on my mother’s panties. I tried to see
how I looked wearing panties by climbing on top of the toilet seat and peering
into the mirror on the medicine cabinet, but I couldn’t get a good view.
My mother’s bedroom had a full-length mirror, so I screwed up my courage
and decided to go back in there. I unlocked the bathroom door, listened for
a moment, and then scurried back down the hall. I walked into her bedroom
and turned to look at the full-length mirror. There looking back at me was
a boy wearing only a pair of lace-trimmed nylon panties. That boy was I!
I turned one way and then the other to get a more complete view. I began
to wonder what it would take to look like a girl. Maybe if I had long hair
and wore a brassiere, I thought.
The following Saturday I was again alone in the house and decided to try
it again. This time I knew my mother would be gone all day. I went to her
bedroom and took off all my clothes. This time I picked out a pair of blue
nylon panties to wear and quickly put them on. Then I went back to the lingerie
drawer and started looking through it again. A blue nylon slip matched the
blue panties I was wearing, so I decided to try it too. I had some trouble
getting it on, but I finally gathered it together and pulled it over my head.
It came down over my skin in a cascade of feminine softness. I spent most
of the day in the slip and panties. Mostly, I watched television in the living
room. When it was time for lunch, I fixed a sandwich in the kitchen, still
dressed in the luxury of feminine lingerie. When it was time for my mother
to return, I changed back to my regular clothes.
The next afternoon my mother left to visit one of the shut-in members of
our church, and as soon as she was out the door I went back to her bedroom,
took my clothes off and slipped into the blue panties that I had on the day
before. This time I had the idea to go a step further and wear a brassiere
and nylon stockings under the slip. I held up my mother’s garter belt to
get a better view. It was white with delicate lace trim. Then I looked for
the gartered stockings to go with it. Mostly, she had pantyhose, but there
were also three pairs of nylon stockings too. I held up a pair of neatly
folded nylon stockings and watched them unfold before my eyes. I had never
before imagined that anything could be so lovely and feminine.
As I held up the stockings to examine them more closely, I heard a noise
behind me. I turned to see my mother standing in the doorway to the bedroom.
She had forgotten some literature that she had intended to take along and
had come back for it. So there she found me, rummaging through her lingerie
drawer dressed only in a pair of her nylon panties, preparing to put on her
garter belt and nylon stockings.
She stood there looking at me with her mouth open. I stood frozen looking
back at her. Then she spoke. “So you really do like panties, eh? Well, if
you want to be a girl and wear pretty panties, that’s fine with me.” She
walked across the room and picked up my boys’ briefs I had left on the bed.
“I may as well get rid of these as you’re not going to need them anymore.
Now come with me.”
I followed her out into the living room still wearing only her sleek panties.
As we sat across from each other, she explained that she would be donating
all my boys’ undershorts to the thrift shop. Tomorrow after school, she said,
I was to come to the shop and she would select a panty wardrobe for me. In
the meantime, I could go on wearing her panties until she could assemble
for me a stock of girls’ panties in my size.
I was crying as I said, “But I don’t want to wear girls’ panties all the
time,” I told her. “I’m sorry; I was just trying them on.”