A night out on the town results in an ordeal of cross-dressed humiliation as Alex learns that some boundaries should never be crossed.
When sixteen year-old Alex Fairfield finally decides to defy his Aunt Julie's domineering influence, he discovers the price of liberty may be more than he could possibly afford.
Crossing the Boundaries 2.
"Hold it RIGHT THERE young man!!"
Alex Fairfield froze in shock, eyes swivelling towards the living room door. A cold finger ran the length of his spine: he knew that tone, recognised the naked anger in his Aunt's voice. It was a tone he'd come to fear over the past three years, one he'd learnt to treat with the utmost respect. His pulse leapt into overdrive as the adrenalin hit his bloodstream. He was in trouble this time.
Literally breathless with surprise, Alex turned to face the tall, green-eyed virago looming in the doorway. Julia Conway stood with her hands straddling her wide hips, face simmering with rage and relief. Relief because her wayward nephew had finally arrived home; rage because it was two-thirty in the morning.
"Where have you been?" Julia demanded, her words slicing the air like a razor. Alex flinched like a frightened child, his mind whirling with panic. Aunt Julia wasn't just angry. She was utterly furious. Her eyes sparkled with emerald fire, her mouth was a taunt red line. Alex could almost feel the heat radiating off her in blistering waves. He wavered before that scalding gaze, frantically searching for an excuse, an escape route; some pretext by which he could evade imminent justice.
Nothing much came to mind.
She'd caught him red-handed, after all. All his lies and schemes and covert little deceptions had come to nothing: she'd snared him with an almost contemptuous ease, laying her trap with the confidence of long experience. What had he been thinking, sneaking in through the back door like some rank amateur? She was a barracuda trawling the depths, he was a minnow frolicking in the shallows. He'd under-estimated her intellect, and the mistake was going to cost him.
"I assume you know what time it is," Julia said, striding into the hallway with a menacing, determined step, "I've had the police out looking for you since midnight, Alli!"
"The police?!" Alex cried, his voice high and thin, "Aunt Julie, you didn't -"
"Yes I did. They weren't terribly impressed - and neither was I. I've warned you before about your curfew. Ten-thirty by the latest - no exceptions." She halted two paces from the boy, her slim, pantherish figure framed in a rectangle of fluorescent light. Her glare could have felled a Minnesota Bull. Alex wilted in open dread, knowing what was coming next.
"B-but it w-wasn't my fault, Aunt Julie", he stammered, falling back from that livid, unforgiving gaze, "I just d-didn't -"
"I don't CARE what your excuse is," Julia cut him off, her voice rising by at least two decibels, "if you're late, you call home! That's the rule, Alli - and you know it!!" Which was true. She had drummed this precept into him every week for the last three years, ever since he'd first come to live with her. There was no room for misunderstanding under Julia Conway's roof. Lower lip wobbling in dismay, Alex found himself reduced to the status of a pleading child.
"Please Aunt J-J-Julie," he began, desperate to avoid the punishment he could feel looming over his head, I'm ruh-really s-sorry -"
"Not as sorry as you're going to be!" Julia interrupted, dismissing the boy's apologies with an impatient wave of her hand, "I think it's time you were reminded who sets the rules in this house. Now - up to your room and change out of those clothes. I'll be along to deal with you in ten minutes."
Alli's mouth flopped open. The verdict had been reached, his worst fears confirmed.
"No, no, PLEASE Aunt Julie," he wailed at the top of his lungs, "I don't want a SPANKING!!"
"Well, a spanking is exactly what you deserve," Julia replied, her expression literally blazing with threat, "Now GET UPSTAIRS and GET CHANGED. You know what to do."
"Aunt Julie -"
"RIGHT NOW!!" Julia roared, stabbing a lean (and rather muscular) arm towards the staircase. She'd had it up to HERE with his disobedience, his dishonesty, his malicious, lying deceit. Here he was, skulking around the house at TWO-THIRTY in the morning, crying innocent and reeking of Jim Beam. Did he think she was an idiot? Came down in the last shower? By God, she was going to teach him the lesson of a lifetime!!
Alex fled up the stairs, choking back his tears like a little girl. Julie was going to SPANK him: pull his pants down and paddle his bottom the colour of a maraschino cherry. He knew from prior excursions over her knee that the pain would be excruciating. His aunt was a world-class spanker, having had years to perfect her technique on his smooth, defenceless hynie. Hardly a month went by when she didn't turn him over her knee and tan his errant young cheeks with her wide, steely hand. The knowledge of his impending punishment had him weeping with fright. Could there be anything worse than a hot, throbbing bottom?
Actually, there was. As Alex had discovered on numerous occasions since he'd first moved in, three years before.
Aunt Julie was a most formidable woman; strict, uncompromising, and completely self-assured. Undisputed mistress of her domain, her decisions were both ruthless and intractable, particularly where matters of discipline were concerned. She had established a strict regimen of conduct governing the boy's behaviour, under which the slightest transgression would be met with the most HUMILIATING of penalties.
(Alli. she called me Alli)
Yes, there was something far worse than a well-smacked bottom, something he detested from the very core of his being. The paddlings were bad enough, an embarrassing, juvenile form of correction that he sought to avoid at all costs, but he would have gladly endured a DOZEN spankings if he were allowed to face them like a man ... so to speak.
(GET UPSTAIRS and GET CHANGED!!)
Sobbing with apprehension, Alex burst into his room and made straight for the bed, his large, blue eyes moist and glistening. His mind was groping for a way out of this nightmare. Even now, with his punishment only minutes away, he still clung to the hope of a suspended sentence. A slender hope at best (virtually non-existent, in fact), but better than none at all. Maybe an outright admission of guilt would sway his Aunt's irreversible judgement. Maybe a heart-felt, tearful confession would lead to some less severe alternative. Maybe Granny Fairfeild's prize porker would sprout wings and fly to Wisconsin for the summer.
All hope evaporated as Alex approached the bed and saw what had been left for him. A warm, moist flush engulfed his belly as he stood looking down at the dainty, fragile things laid out on the duvet. He should have known what to expect, should have seen this coming. He knew his Aunt well enough to have second-guessed her, at least in this regard.
The bed was covered with girl's clothing.
Alex backed slowly away, his head reeling with adolescent misery. It wasn't enough to turn him over her knee like a naughty five-year old, not by a long shot. Aunt Julie believed that humiliation was the best deterrent. Subsequently, his spankings were a treadmill of disgrace; a degrading, shameful ordeal few boys his age could even imagine. She was determined to leave him without so much as a shred of masculine dignity, to shatter his ego like some fragile, scintillating mirror.
(she called me ALLI)
And Alli was not a boy's name. It was the name she'd given him. The one he'd been forced to accept after he'd moved in with her. Along with the dresses and tights; the bangles, blouses and lacy white girl-socks. There was the truth of it: three years of brief red miniskirts and sheer yellow sun frocks had transformed him into a mincing little sissy. Julia had coerced and manipulated him over the past thirty-six months, gradually eroding his frail, teenaged psyche until he'd begun to doubt his own gender.
It was so unfair, so unjust. So wrong. He hated being treated like a little girl, hated having to dress up in the gleaming, satin underthings Julie insisted he wear beneath his day clothes (even if it sometimes left him gasping with excitement, something which occurred far too frequently of late), hated the lipstick and the make-up and the endless platoons of barbie-dolls lining his closet shelves.
More than anything else, he hated the spankings!!
Embarrassing beyond description, they were the ultimate act of submission, a complete surrender of his incipient manhood. If only he had the courage to stand up to her, summon up the nerve to defy her commands. He often fantasised about casting off his shackles; facing her down and emerging triumphant in this incessant battle of wills.
Unfortunately, Alex knew that was never going to happen. Refusal was not an option, never had been. The mere threat of a hot, throbbing bottie was enough to reduce him to tears. She was so much stronger than he was, so confident and powerful. He'd come to accept her dictatorial presence in his life years before (just as he'd accepted her love and sometimes amazing generosity). The spankings were inevitable, unavoidable, a consequence of his own natural timidity. He would simply have to live with them.
Whimpering in dismay, he took off his denim jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt. She's given him ten minutes to get ready, he couldn't afford to delay a moment longer. He had to be sitting obediently on his bed by the time Julia arrived; a sorry little girl awaiting a well-deserved spanking. If she caught him wearing so much as a stitch of male clothing, she'd be sure to add an extra minute or two to his sentence.
Hastily kicking off his baggy blue Levis, Alex took down his shorts, shivering more from dread than cold. The enormity of his punishment filled his mind; he could already see himself spread over Aunt Julie's lap with his buttocks raised and his underwear banded 'round his knees. His delicate, lace underwear. The image literally dominated his consciousness. Alex could think of nothing else: he was going to be SPANKED in girl's panties!!
Tossing his jockey-shorts into the corner, Alex turned back to the bed, pausing to study his reflection in the dressing-table mirror. Stripped of his denim vestments, he was a slender, petite youth with a slight figure and fine, blond hair cascading down to his waist. His soft, babyish features were so effeminate that he could easily have passed for a girl of thirteen. This ethereal appearance was further reinforced by melting blue eyes and lush, pouty lips. Julia had once described him as the prettiest boy she'd ever seen. This was no exaggeration; visually speaking, Alex Fairfeild was poised on the absolute cusp of gender.
It wasn't simply his delicate bone structure which lent Alex his girlish characteristics. His body had developed a number of androgynous features in recent months; faultless, translucent skin the tone of snowy alabsaster, sleek, curvaceous hips and a waistline Kate Moss might have envied. He even had a pair of tiny ripening breasts, little more than rudimentary nubs protruding from his chest, but virtually perfect in shape and proportion. They were his most closely guarded secret. Alex had gone to extreme lengths to keep them hidden from everyone he knew, particularly at school. If his classmates ever found out, the mockery - the harrassment - would never cease. He'd have to go live in a cave and grow turnips.
(needless to say, it was impossible to keep any secret from Aunt Julie, whose intuitive powers bordered on the supernatural. As a matter of fact, she hadn't been even vaguely surprised by this bizarre quirk of biology. Had almost seemed to be expecting it, truth be told)
I'm NOT a girl, he wept silently, looking away from the mirror and returning his attention to the articles on the bed. He was running out of time; his aunt had sent him upstairs to get changed, to slip into a dress and assume his other identity. He could hear Julia moving around down stairs, calmly preparing for the early morning fanny-smacking ceremonies.
(She called me Alli. Twice)
Knowing precisely how the evening was going to end, Julia had laid out a spray of flimsy nylon undergarments on the bed-cover. Stark naked and sobbing with anxiety, Alex leaned in to inspect the shimmering, lace fragments she'd left there for him, a token of his subordinate, feminine position within the domestic hierarchy.
Neatly folded near the lower corner of the bed was a pair of 'liquid satin' panties; glistening high-cut briefs covered with floral trimmings. Glaringly white and gossamer thin, they seemed innocent, pristine and achingly virginal. The very sight of them set Alex's head spinning with a conflicting blend of shame, guilt and ... something else. Something he simply couldn't admit to feeling. Even to himself.
A matching white brassiere had been placed next to the underpants, a skimpy little underwire with adjustable straps and transparent lace cups. Julie had started him on a training bra shortly after his thirteenth birthday, he'd recently graduated up to an A-cup as his pseudo-feminine physique had continued to develop.
Next to this was a bright pink halter-top and a black cotton mini covered with flaminco-style ruffles. Alex felt a moist heat suffuse his cheeks as he imagined himself wearing that garish ensemble: a layered salsa dance-skirt over shining white panties. He could almost feel the gauzy fabric clinging to his hips like a second skin. His belly tightened with unwilling excitement, his heart beat accellerated with guilty delight. Blushing to the roots of his platinum blond hair, Alex covered his mouth with both hands: what's WRONG with me?!
Before he could pursue this chain of thought any further, his reveries were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Sharp, clocking footsteps, to be precise; glossy red high-heels ascending polished, wooden floorboards. Alex's eyes widened with horror, a bolt of near-hysteria tore through his system. His time had run out, Aunt Julie was coming up the stairs. Coming up the stairs to take him over her knee and SPANK his impudent young bottom!!
Footsteps, stern and unrelenting, echoing ominously up the hall: click-clock, click-clock, click-clock.
"No!!" Alli cried in sudden terror, reaching for her panties, "no, no, no NO!!"
To be continued.
Copyright Transfemme, 2003. All rights reserved.
TG crossdressing, teenager, adult themes, spanking. Rated R.