The Cabin
By Pamela
I live on a farm. It’s a hundred acres give or take. My mom and dad grow vegetables for farmer’s markets and fine restaurants. They earn a decent living. At the far end of the farm is a wooded section that abuts against a neighboring farm. In the middle of the small forest is an old cabin. It’s been there more than a hundred years, yet it’s in pretty good condition. The property line runs right through the middle of it so it’s neither owned fully by my family or the family in the adjacent farm.
When I was ten years old, during the summer between fourth and fifth grades, on a Sunday, after we had come home from church, I went out to play and happened to visit the cabin as I was wont to do from time to time. Did I mention that my parents keep a few horses and other farm animals so I can either ride my horse to the cabin or walk there depending on my mood. This day I walked there and went inside where there was a small table and two chairs in the center of the room. On shelves along the walls were some old kitchen utensils and dishes. A couple of built in cabinets next to an ancient stove were along one of the walls. A cot consisting of a metal frame holding a wire mesh and no mattress was against another wall.
I was looking out the window deciding what imaginary game I ought to make up to pass the time, when I saw a girl walking toward the cabin. She had obviously come from church the same as me since she was wearing the kind of pretty dresses that girls wear to church. I called out to her from the open window, “Hi!”
Startled she looked in my direction and I added, “Come on in!”
She opened the door and entered the cabin. “I’m Greg,” I said. “Who are you?”
The girl looked around the room and then turned to me. “Jane.”
She looked to be my age. Her face had a serious look about it and a sharp beauty. “I live on the farm.” I pointed back toward where our farmhouse was. “Where do you live?”
“That’s my parent’s farm,” she said pointing in the opposite direction.
“Oh, you’re my neighbor! I heard a new family had bought the farm.”
“Yes, it’s us.”
“You were in church? I guess not my church.”
“We’re Catholics.”
“We’re Lutherans,” I said.
Those were the two churches in town.
“I haven’t seen you at school,” I said.
“I go to Catholic school,” Jane said.
“I’m at the public school. Have you been to the cabin before?” I asked.
“Yes. I saw it last week.”
“I often come here to play in it. You know it’s sits on the boundary between our farms.”
“So we both own it,” Jane said.
“That’s true. I like to make up games while I’m in the cabin.”
“What sort of games?”
“Sometimes I’m the town doctor and a gunslinger is brought to me with a bullet wound!”
“What a silly fantasy,” Jane said.
“What is a better one? If you played with me then we could do it together.”
“I suppose I could play with you. You seem like a reasonable boy.”
“That’s great, Jane. What game would you like to play today?”
“I’ll be a famous surgeon and you’re a medical student who I’m training.”
“Cool. What do I do.”
“First of all we watch as the emergency people bring in our first patient.”
And so began a friendship that has persisted until the present day.
***
After our first meeting, Jane and I arranged to meet on Sunday afternoons at the cabin. It was the perfect time: after church, after the midday meal, and when our parents were happy for us to go off and play until supper time.
On our third Sunday together, I had been waiting for Jane for fifteen minutes and when she showed up I was so happy to see her I exclaimed, “I was so worried you couldn’t come today!”
“The minister blabbed on extra-long today. I wish I didn’t have to go to church but my parents believe it’ll be good for me.”
“At least you get to wear that pretty dress,” I said.
“Pretty dress? Are you kidding me, Greg? That’s the other thing. They make me wear this girly dress with skirts and even a crinoline underneath. I hate it.”
“But you’re a girl.”
“Whoop de do! I can be a girl without wearing frilly dresses.”
“Well, I don’t know why you don’t like pretty dresses, but I know that I like looking at them.”
Jane laughed. “If you’re so in love with pretty dresses, how about you wear the dress. I’d so much rather wear your neat pants and shirt.”
“There’s nothing neat about my pants and shirt as far as I can tell,” I said.
“How about we just switch clothes?” Jane said. “I’ll take off my clothes so you can wear what I’m wearing while you take off your clothes and I’ll wear them. Then we’ll both be happy.”
I stared at Jane trying to catch up with what she was saying. “You mean while we play in the cabin we switch clothes? Then we switch back when we leave?”
“Yes, exactly. Want to?”
“You don’t think that’s weird?”
“I don’t know why. You like my dress and I like your pants. Why shouldn’t we wear what we like!”
“Well, I guess it makes sense.”
“Good. We’ll turn our backs on each other, take off our clothes, put them on the table behind us and then we can put on the other’s clothes.”
“Okay,” I said nervously.
We faced away from each other on opposite sides of the table. I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off and then my undershirt, my pants, my jockey shorts, my socks, and shoes. I reached behind myself to put them on the table.
“Are you ready?” Jane asked me.
“Yep!”
I felt behind me and found her clothes. I put them on the chair in front of me. I saw her underpants and said, “You wear white underpants?”
“They’re called panties, Greg.”
“Right,” I said. I stepped into them and pulled them up to my waist. They were amazingly comfortable. The fabric was soft and thinner than my jockey shorts.
“I love your jockey shorts!” Jane exclaimed. “They’re so cool. So much thicker material than panties and I love the trap door!”
“I love your panties,” I said. “The delicate fabric is neat!”
Jane laughed. “You’re such a girl, Greg.”
“You’re such a boy!” I said.
Next to put on was a little, soft top that sort of looked like an undershirt but had some lace on it. “You wear an undershirt?” I asked.
“That’s my camisole. You wear that under the dress.”
I put the camisole on. “The lace is so cool! I’m sorry but my undershirt hasn’t any lace.”
“Thank God,” Jane said. “Lace is yucky.”
“I think you’re cuckoo!”
Jane had cute white socks with some embroidery that I put on. “I love your socks, too.”
“Your socks are so much better,” Jane said.
Next was Jane’s pretty white dress. I noticed that she had a fluffy, white thing that was inside the skirt. “What’s this inside your dress?” I asked.
“That’s the crinoline, silly. It goes on your waist after you put the dress on.”
“How do I put on your dress?” I asked.
“It goes on over your head. When it’s on I’ll zip up the back for you.”
I did as she said, putting my hands through the arm holes. I was taken aback to see Jane dressed in my shirts, pants, socks, and shoes. She looked like a boy. After she zipped up the back of the dress, she had me step into the crinoline and then watch as I put on her white shoes.
“I feel so wonderful,” I said. “How could anyone not want to wear such a pretty dress. It makes me feel so … !”
“Girly?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Ugh, Greg. I feel wonderful in your clothes! I love the feeling of your underpants and undershirt. How could you possibly want to give this up for a dress?”
“I guess we’re both lucky because we can get to be happy in the clothes we prefer!”
“Let’s play a game now. I brought this ridiculous doll that my aunt bought for me. We’ll pretend the doll is our patient. I’ll be the famous surgeon and you’ll be the nurse! We have to do a difficult operation and you’ll help me.”
“That sounds like fun!”
“Nurse Greg!” Jane said. “It’s never fun in the operating room. Do you understand?”
“Yes doctor.”
“Good, don’t let that happen again. Bring the patient to the operating table and get her ready for surgery.”
“Yes, doctor,” I said. The large doll was of a young girl wearing a pink dress and had long blonde hair. I put the doll on the table. I removed her dress. It was reminiscent of the one I was wearing. I guess it’s sort of a princess style. Underneath were panties. “Should I remove all the patient’s clothes?” I asked Jane.
“Take off her panties. I need access to her spleen.”
I took the panties off the doll and said, “There’s a diaper underneath her panties.”
“Take that off too.”
I took it off the doll and said, “She’s ready.”
“Good. Now hand me my scalpel!”
“Shouldn’t I make sure the patient is asleep?” I asked.
“I thought you had already done that. Nurse Greg, sometimes I just don’t know about you.”
I took a close look at the doll and said, “She’s asleep.” Then I handed Jane a butter knife and she pretended to make a cut into the doll.
“Spoon, nurse Greg!”
I handed her a spoon and Jane pretended to operate on the doll with the knife and spoon. I leaned closer and used an old cloth to act like I was mopping up blood. “You’re doing a great job Doctor!”
“Be careful not to get blood on your uniform,” Jane said.
“Right,” I said and stepped back a foot.
“Great,” Jane said. “All done. Another successful operation. You may take the patient to the recovery room.”
I took the doll and laid it down on the cot.
“It’s such a nice doll,” I said. “Her face is so pretty and her hair is soft.”
“Greg, you can have the doll. I’ll never play with it.”
“I can’t take it home with me, but I guess I could leave it in the drawer and play with it in the cabin.”
“That sounds like a smart idea.” Jane went up to me and tapped me on the back and said, “You’re it!” She ran outside and I followed her. I chased her as best I could in the dress and her shoes but every time I got near her she’d run away. She was clearly faster than I was – at least while I was wearing a dress.
“I can’t catch you, Jane. You’re too fast for me! It’s not fair! I can’t run so fast in a dress.” It was true. I was apprehensive of doing anything that would hurt the dress. I couldn’t fall down or get tangled in bushes or touch a tree.
“You run like a girl, Greg. I love how you flail your arms like a girl. If you want to catch me you’ll have to run like a boy.”
“I can’t … I mean I’m doing the best I can, Jane. I don’t want to risk hurting your dress.”
Jane stopped running and I went up to her and tagged her. She laughed and said, “You’re so much fun, Greg. I love how you run with the dress. It’s nice that you don’t want to hurt it.”
“I’d feel terrible hurting a pretty dress.”
“I must admit it’s so much nicer running in your pants and shoes. It makes me feel so … in control I guess. Dresses make me feel like I have to always watch everything I do. Bleah!”
“I don’t mind at all feeling that I have to be careful!”
***
Some days after school I’d ride my horse to the cabin, take the doll out of the cabinet, and sit on the bed holding her. I pretended I was her mother and I’d make up stories and recite them to the doll. Inevitably I’d daydream about the coming weekend and that magic moment when I saw Jane’s dress and then knew that I’d soon be wearing it.
***
One Sunday, more than a year later in the fall when we had both turned twelve years old, I showed up wearing a flannel shirt like a woodsman might wear, workmen’s boots, and a leather jacket. Jane had asked me the week before if I had any clothes like that.
“Thank you, Greg. I love your outfit!”
Jane already knew that I loved hers. She was wearing a pink dress that she had first worn a few weeks earlier. She had complained that her mom was still making her wear what she called little girl dresses to church. I, on the other hand, was quite pleased with her mother’s choices.
We switched clothes as we liked to do and Jane was thrilled to be wearing the kind of clothes that a working man might wear. I was in my usual blissful state in the pretty dress and panties. This time Jane had new pink shoes with heels that matched the dress. Even more delight for me!
“The game today,” Jane announced, is you’re going to be my little wifey. I’ve had a long, hard day chopping down trees and I’m starving and you’re going to fix me dinner. And of course take care of the baby.” With that, Jane sat at the table.
“Yes, dear,” I said.
“In case you didn’t hear me I’m starving.”
“Yes, I’ll make you dinner as fast as possible!”
“You better get that baby to quiet down. She’s annoying me.”
“Yes, dear,” I said. I fetched the doll from the cabinet and held it against my chest and said, “It’s okay. No need for tears. Mommy’s here.” I patted the doll on the back and then held her on one arm while I found a pot and put it on the stove.
“What are you making for dinner?” Jane asked.
“Your favorite stew.”
“We had that two days ago. Can’t you make something new and exciting?”
“I’m sorry dear. I have the baby and you’re in a rush.”
“Look, don’t give me your excuses.”
“I’m sorry dear.” I rushed around the kitchen fetching plates and silverware and putting them on the table.
“Where’s my beer?”
“Sorry,” I said and ran to fetch a glass and put it in front of Jane. Then I pretended to get a beer from an imaginary refrigerator and I opened it up and poured it into the glass. Not being used to wearing heels caused me to stumble and I slowed down after that.
Jane pushed her chair back a bit from the table and said, “Come here.”
“I’m cooking and the baby needs me.”
“Come here.”
I walked over to her.
“Sit down,” Jane said indicating her lap.
I plopped my dress down over her lap and sat down. She put her arm across my back. “Yes dear,” I said.
“Your job is to be pretty, to cook for me, to take care of the house, and to take care of our daughter. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Jane.”
“I must admit that you are pretty. You look sweet in that dress and I applaud you for that. But your cooking is slow and I’m hungry and I don’t like the baby yelling.”
“I’m sorry, dear.”
“Instead of saying you’re sorry, get me my dinner and get the baby to keep quiet.”
“Yes, dear, I’m sorry dear.”
I got up and resumed my cooking, stopping every so often to take care of the doll. After a minute I said, “Dinner’s ready!”
I went to the table and ladled some imaginary stew into the bowl in front of Jane and did the same for myself. I put the pot back on the stove and said, “Go on and eat. The baby’s wet. I need to change her.” I took the doll to the counter and took off her panties and took off the diaper underneath and then put it back on and put the panties back on.
I got back to the table and sat down and pretended to take a bite of stew. “My stew is cold.” I said.
“Don’t complain to me,” Jane said. “I work hard all day long for you and I expect you to make my time at home to be supremely pleasurable.”
“I’m sorry dear,” I said. I got up from the table, ran to the bed, and cried.
“Why in the world are you crying?” Jane said.
“You treat me so badly,” I said.
“I don’t want to have to smack you, Greg,” Jane said.
We were silent for a while until Jane continued, “Wow, that was weird.”
“You wouldn’t hit me in real life, would you?” I asked Jane.
“Of course not, Greg. I don’t hit girls.”
***
My Sundays with Jane were the highlight of my week as month after month passed. When one of us was away on a trip or was ill, we’d skip a week. She no longer consistently wore pretty dresses. Sometimes she showed up in a skirt and blouse or even a simple sundress or something of that ilk. But all of her skirts, blouses, and dresses were fun to wear.
Every so often Jane wore a leotard with her skirt. Those were special days because I was entirely smitten by leotards. I loved the sleek look and the way they accommodated the bust. When Jane saw me in the leotard she said I must have been a ballerina in a previous life. That pressed me to ask her if we could sometime play a game where I was a ballerina. Jane thought that was a great idea, so the days she wore a leotard she’d bring a crinoline I could use as a tutu as well as ballet slippers and tights. I’d take to hopping around as if I knew how to dance and she and I had so much fun.
One notable weekend during seventh grade when we were thirteen I knew that Jane was up to something special from the moment she showed up hardly able to contain herself from giggling. I was accustomed to her taking the lead in our time together and I eagerly looked forward to finding out what she had in store for me this day.
I thought the surprise would be that Jane had invented a new game, but when we did our normal clothing exchange I was ecstatic to see that there was a bra among her clothes.
“Oh, my God, Jane, a bra?” I said excitedly.
“Yeah. My mom says my boobs are starting to come in. Yet another wonderful thing about being a girl,” Jane said sarcastically.
“You’re crazy. I think it’s so neat that you get to wear a bra. And it’s such a pretty bra, all lacy and pink!”
“Yes. Once again my ridiculous mom insisted that a girls’ first bra had to be especially pretty. I told her I didn’t want lace and she laughed at me. She said that when I grow up I can wear any old ugly plain bra I want, but as long as she’s buying my bras and panties they’ll have to be pretty and feminine.”
“I love your mother.”
“You have some screws loose in your head! Anyway, I knew that you’d flip out with the chance to wear a bra,” Jane said.
“I guess that’s true!” I said as I reverently held up the bra to examine it. “The tag says it’s a 34A.”
“My breasts are barely an A cup. A year from now you might have to be wearing my D cup bras!”
I took that as confirmation that we’d still be playing together in a year and I was pleased to know that.
“I don’t know how to put on a bra,” I said.
“My mom showed me a few days ago. I can tell you how. Just listen to everything I say.”
“Okay.”
“You see the cups?”
“Yeah.”
“You see that the boobs fit in one side and the other is the outside?”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“You see the end straps with the little hooks on them?”
“I guess so.”
“Hold the bra end with your left hand and reach behind you to get the other end of the bra.”
I was lost to say the least. “I’m sorry Jane, I’m all confused.”
“Wait a second, this isn’t going to work. Put on my panties and skirt and I’ll finish dressing and help you.”
I reached for Jane’s panties and exclaimed, “Oh my God, Jane. There’s a pad in the panties!”
“Oh yeah, that’s the other great thing. Just as my boobs start to come in I’m having my first period.”
“There’s a little blood on the pad,” I said.
“It’s okay. The bleeding is light and almost over. If I get any blood in your underwear you can wash it out later.”
I put on Jane’s panty with the pad in place. “I don’t mind the pad at all. It’s kind of nice to know that it’s there to get the blood.”
Jane laughed. “That’s one thing I love about you Greg, you’re incorrigible!”
“I have your panties and skirt on,” I said.
Jane came over to me and took the bra and put it around me so my hands were holding the ends to be clipped. I clipped them and she showed me how to swing the bra around and put my hands through the shoulder straps. “There you go, Greg. It fits you nicely. Right now our boobs are about equal in size. When mine get bigger you might want to get some falsies to put in my bras.”
“How do I get falsies?”
“Right, I better do that for you. When I get my first B cup bra I’ll get some small falsies that fit that and later if and when I get bigger I can get bigger falsies.”
I put on Jane’s blouse and then her socks and low heels.
“You always look so adorable, Greg,” Jane said.
“And you always look like such a guy!”
“Listen to me carefully, Greg,” Jane said. “In gym class do you wear a jock strap?”
“Yeah.”
“Does it have a hard cup to protect your wiener?”
“Yeah. There’s a pocket for it if I want to use it.”
“Good. Next Sunday I want you to remember to wear your jock strap with the protector.”
“Sure. You want to pretend …”
“Exactly, Greg.”
***
The following Sunday I made a point of wearing my jock strap to our time together. When we were exchanging clothes I heard Jane gasp with excitement and she said, “Oh my God, I love this thing. It’s so cool.”
“I think you’re crazy,” I said while struggling to put on her bra. I had done my best to memorize what Jane had done the previous week. After some effort I got it on.
“I can hear you loving my bra!”
“It is so pretty. It’s really nice to wear one.”
“With the jockstrap I brought a pair of socks to put in there,” Jane said.
“Weird.”
We were dressed and turned around to face each other. Jane looked mannish in jeans, flannel shirt, and leather jacket. As always, the opportunity to wear Jane’s clothes gave me a deeply satisfying feeling.
“You brought something for today’s game?” I asked, noticing a canvas tote bag that Jane had set next to the door.
“Yes. Today you’re going to be pregnant and I’m going to be the doctor delivering your baby.”
“How can I be pregnant?”
Jane took a blouse out of her bag. “Put this top on. It’s a maternity blouse.”
I took off the blouse she had worn to the cabin and replaced it with the maternity blouse.
“Here’s your baby,” Jane said. She took a cushion out of her bag and slipped it under the front of my blouse. “Voila, you’re pregnant.”
“Is my baby a boy or girl?” I asked.
“It’s a girl, trust me. The first thing is you start getting labor pains and we rush you to the hospital.”
I walked around the cabin a few times rubbing my large belly. “Any day now I’m going to have my baby. I wish it would come. It’s so hard to walk around with all this extra weight. Oh, oh, what was that?” I sat down and held my belly. “Ouch, I feel it again. It must be a labor pain. I better go to the hospital!”
I pretended to be entering the hospital and Jane came up to me, “Are you in labor?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m having pains.”
“I’m Doctor Jane. How often?”
“Every few minutes.”
“Have you contacted the baby’s father?” Jane asked.
“My husband can’t come. He has to harvest the celery before it’s too late.”
“Of course. He should come when he can. We have to get you to the labor room quickly!”
Jane led me to the bed where I lay down. She moved over a chair and she had me spread my legs apart. She looked up inside my skirt and snaked her hands up through the top of my skirt and underneath my blouse to the pillow.
“The baby is starting to come out! You’re almost ten centimeters. I can see the baby’s head!”
“Owwww, owwww,” I said.
“Keep pushing, Greg. I know you can do it!”
“I’m pushing as hard as I can!”
“That’s it. Ten centimeters and the head is starting to move out. Your baby has a lot of hair!”
“It hurts so much!” I said.
“Don’t stop pushing, Greg. You’re doing wonderfully. You’re such a courageous girl. Your baby is almost out. The head is just about out and now one shoulder. Push hard, push hard.”
“Owwwww!” I said.
“Here’s the baby! Good job! You’re now a brand new mommy! You’re the mommy of a baby girl!”
Jane produced a small, naked baby doll from underneath my skirt and handed it to me. I sat up and cradled the baby in my arms.
“Mother and daughter. What a pretty sight,” Jane said. “What are you going to name your baby?”
“I was thinking of Pamela.”
“That is a very pretty name,” Jane said. “The nurses will take over now. A lactation expert will be showing up soon to help you with breast feeding.”
“Thank you doctor.”
“That was so much fun,” Jane said.
“I almost feel like I really did have a baby. I would so love to be a mommy for real.”
“That’s such a cute thought, Greg,” Jane said. “I think I’d go crazy staying home with a baby.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” I said.
“Now I’ll be the lactation expert, visiting you in the hospital before you go home with the baby.”
“What exactly does she do?”
“He. Your lactation expert is a he.”
“Right, sorry.”
“I’ll help you make the right adjustments so your baby can breast feed successfully. So, let me first look at your breasts.”
Jane sat on the edge of the bed next to me. She lifted up my maternity blouse revealing my bra.
“First of all you’ve got to buy some nursing bras.”
“Right.”
“They’re bras that let you unclip the top of the cup so the baby can get at your nipple. I’ll just unhook your bra for right now.”
Jane reached behind me and unhooked my bra. She lifted it up in the front to expose my nipples.
“You’ve got nice plump, hard nipples that Pamela is going to love feeding from. If all goes well little Pamela will easily latch on to them and suck them. The sucking makes your breasts automatically produce milk. We’ll help your milk production by squeezing a bit on your breasts, to remind them to start producing. Here I’ll show you how,” Jane said.
Jane placed her two hands on my meager breasts, gently squeezing them and otherwise massaging them. She tweaked the nipples every so often. I felt myself rhapsodizing about how nice her touch was.
“See what I’m doing?”
“Yes.”
“Let me watch you do it to yourself.”
I imitated Jane’s touch of my breasts.
“Very good, Greg. Now hold Pamela up to your nipple and see if she’s inclined to suck on it.”
I held the doll with its mouth over my nipple.
“I think she might be sucking on it,” I said.
“Very good, Greg. You need to be careful so she doesn’t clamp down so hard as to hurt you. Or you could get a sore nipple from chaffing.”
I continued to nurse the baby with Jane supervising me. After some time I put the baby down. “I loved this game.”
“It is one of the more pleasant ones,” Jane said.
I rehooked my bra. “I wish I could have a real baby one day. I wouldn’t mind the pain of childbirth if I could have the baby.”
“Many of the girls at school could really relate to that. Me, on the other hand, wish that I could have all the freedom a man can have.”
“It’s too bad for you that your mom wants you to be feminine,” I said, “but if it weren’t for her I’d never have the opportunity to wear pretty clothes.”
“I wonder if she’d be willing to take you in as a daughter in place of me!”
“Very funny. You could be the son my dad never had.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“My mom is pretty good at stopping my dad from saying what he really wants to say, but I’m pretty sure that I know what’s on his mind. He thinks that I’m too passive, that he’s disappointed that I’m too delicate to help him with real farm work.” I laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“Once he had me join him in putting up a fence in one of our pastures. We got up super early and drove out to the field with a truck full of wooden posts, tools, and wire. I was supposed to dig the holes for the posts, but I wasn’t strong enough to use the post hole digger. Then he wanted me to lift the posts into the hole and I wasn’t able to do that. Then he wanted me to string the wire, but it was too heavy for me and I couldn’t use the staple gun. I heard him under his breath on our way back say something like I was only good for doing women’s work. I pretended I hadn’t heard that. Let’s face it, he doesn’t really know what to make of me. I’m not his kind of man.”
“Don’t ever forget that you’re my kind of man!”
“That’s so sweet of you!”
“I’m not my mom’s kind of woman. When she tried to get me to sit down and help her make a quilt I ran from the room. I did help my father put up a fence. He was thrilled that I could be useful.”
“I hate disappointing my dad.”
“I love you exactly the way you are Greg. I love that you like my dresses and you want to have a baby. It makes for so much fun in our games.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing about you either,” I said.
“When I leave home, like if I go to college, then I can get all the same freedoms that boys get.”
“You’re going to college?”
“Probably. What about you?”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
“You sound sad.”
“I guess I never thought about being separated from you.”
“Don’t worry, Greg. I don’t want to be separated from you. We’ll probably figure something out when the time comes. No sense in worrying about it now!”
“You’re right. I’m sorry for worrying.”
“You’re very much a teacup, Greg. A delicate girl and I’ll always take that into account.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
I felt a large pulse of affection for Jane. She was far savvier than I was about how the world worked. It meant a lot to me that I could depend on her to use that knowledge to keep me safe from harm. Little by little each week Jane and I were getting ever closer with me as her girlfriend and she as my boyfriend. I loved that I could confide in her my desires to be feminine. I had never kissed a girl, and I knew that I would never have the courage to initiate a kiss. But I was sure that Jane wouldn’t at all be afraid to kiss a boy if she wanted to. Maybe one day she’d want to kiss me.
***
Jane and I were nearing fifteen, in tenth grade, and in the full bloom of puberty when Jane announced one Sunday that she’d thought of a new game for us to play. She called it the “kissing game.” For some time now Jane had been wearing B cup bras which meant that I had a modest chest after we exchanged clothes. I not only enjoyed the fact that I was wearing either a pretty dress or skirt, but it was great to have a real chest that I could be proud of. In fact, Jane brought falsies with her to make sure my bra was well filled out. Pantyhose was also part of the outfit. Jane had introduced me to them some months earlier, and I was adept at putting them on.
For our game, Jane said to imagine we’re at either a school or church dance. I was with a group of girls sitting on the sidelines and eyeing the boys to see if any of them would ask me to dance. Jane brought with her a small battery powered radio and she tuned it to an oldies station. After a few minutes, when a slow song came on she came over to me.
“Would you like to dance?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said. Looking up at her dressed as a boy and acting exactly the way a boy acts, the feminine feelings I felt from wearing a dress and girl’s underwear were amplified. My mind saw the legitimacy of believing that Jane and I were boy and girl, respectively.
Jane held out her hand and I took it in my own and stood up. She immediately took the boy role: right hand around my waist and held my right hand in her left hand. I placed my left hand on her shoulder. For the first minute we danced I accustomed myself to Jane taking the lead. In my previous few times dancing with a girl I had taken the lead and stumbled through the dances never quite figuring out what I was supposed to be doing. Jane’s hand on my back smoothly exerted her control over my movements and we danced nicely in sync with each other. I smiled to myself with the realization that I was always meant to have the girl’s role when dancing.
While we danced Jane asked me, “I’m Jane, what’s your name?”
“Greg,” I said.
“I’ve seen you at school.”
“I’ve seen you too.”
“I noticed how pretty you are, Greg. You stand out, and when I saw you sitting with the other girls tonight I thought finally I can introduce myself to you.”
“I’m glad you did. You’re a very good dancer,” I said.
“You are too,” Jane said. “I was wondering …”
“What?” I asked.
“A girl as pretty as you probably has a boyfriend, right?”
“No, I don’t have one. Not too many boys have asked me out.”
“I bet it’s because you intimidate them.”
“Really?”
“Yes Greg. You have a beautiful feminine aura that makes boys nervous. I had to summon up all my nerve to ask you to dance.”
“Gosh, Jane, I was sitting there thinking that none of the boys find me attractive.”
“Don’t be crazy. Evey boy here would want to be your boyfriend!” Jane said.
“They would? Why?”
Jane laughed, “Well, one good reason is that boyfriends get to kiss their girlfriends.”
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” I asked.
“Of course, I do, but surely a girl as pretty as yourself wouldn’t want to be my girlfriend.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “You’re quite handsome.”
“Oh, my God, Greg, will you be my girlfriend?”
“Yes, I’d love to.”
“You’ve made me so happy!”
“Are you thinking about kissing me?” I said.
“Here’s my answer,” Jane said.
Jane encircled my waist with both arms and pulled me in close to her and she leaned in and kissed me. Our very first kiss! Jane held it for a few seconds and gently broke it off. She looked into my eyes and we smiled at each other. We might be playing a game, but we could see that a seismic change had just happened to our friendship.
We resumed dancing and I rested my head on Jane’s shoulder and closed my eyes. This was like a dream. I would treasure my kiss with Jane forever. My first kiss. A girl had kissed me. A girl whom I adored. I loved that Jane understood that I would respond to her overture by doubling down on my femininity. Dressed in my pretty outfit with pantyhose, and my modest bust, I could see that Jane felt she had a real girl in her arms who she loved to kiss.
***
The kissing game became a favorite of ours. The more we played it the shorter the dancing part became until our impatience to kiss got the better of us and we deleted the dance part entirely. To enable us to kiss comfortably we had brought a small sofa into the cabin. Our kisses lasted longer and increased in passion from week to week.
On one Sunday when we were in eleventh grade, I noticed that the bra I was putting on was 36D, no longer the C cup bras that Jane had been wearing for most of the last year. “You have a new unbelievably pretty bra and it’s a D cup,” I said. “You’re no longer C cup?”
“Yeah, I’m now officially D cup, which is where I’ll probably end up. My mom is D cup and so are both of my grandmas. This new bra is over a hundred dollars. My mom thinks that by wearing such a fancy well-made bra that I’ll get over my inhibition to being feminine.”
“Well, will you?” I asked and laughed.
“Very funny.”
“It’s such a nice shade of pale pink, and I can see that the lace is special. How did your mom know to get a D cup now?”
“My C cup bras have become tight and there was spillage. I’ve got too much boob trying to fit into the cups. The D is much more comfortable. I tell you that these boobs are wasted on me. There are so many girls in my class who would like nothing more than to have D cup boobs like mine and yet the one girl who wouldn’t mind being AA cup gets stuck with them.”
“You can feel sorry for me too,” I said. “I’m the one boy in my class who would love to have D cup breasts, or even A cup breasts but I don’t have them.”
“Maybe we can find a doctor who will give you my breasts!” Jane said.
“Gross! Anyway it’s a very nice bra, but my C cup falsies won’t be big enough to fill the cups, will they?”
“You’re right, so I brought with me a pair of D cup silicon breast forms. They’re much better than falsies since they have the same consistency as real boobs. Put them in your bra.”
After I put on Jane’s bra I saw the breast forms in a box on the table and took them out and inserted them. “Whoa, so cool,” I said. “They look like real breasts. It’s like I’m almost a real girl now.”
The dress that Jane had worn was summery with a light fabric and floral print. I was especially pleased to be wearing it. Jane was in her element wearing the masculine clothes that she insisted I wear to our playtime.
“Are we doing the kissing game today?” I asked.
“Maybe. Right now I’ve got a better game. You’re my girlfriend that I’ve been dating for a long time. In this game I take you out to a fine restaurant for dinner.”
“That sounds like fun.”
We sat down and Jane said to an imaginary waiter, “Your finest cabernet if you don’t mind.”
“You’re splurging tonight,” I said.
“It’s a special occasion.”
“Really? What is it?”
Jane looked at me funny, stood up next to me. Suddenly she got down on one knee in front of me and produced a little jewelry box and opened it up to show me a ring inside.
“Oh, my God,” I screeched and held my hands with fingers spread open against my chin to indicate excitement. “Don’t tell me!”
“Greg, we’ve known each other now for many years. I love you. I’ve given a lot of thought to whether the time is right to make a commitment to you, and there really is only one answer that agrees with the way my heart is feeling. Will you marry me?”
I stared into Jane’s eyes my heart pounding. Her eyes showed such sincerity and love for me that I felt tears coming on and in a husky voice with wetness beginning to pour out of my eyes I said, “Yes, Jane, I love you more than anything. I will marry you! I will!”
Jane took the ring out and I held out my right hand and she slipped a beautiful antique ring with a small diamond onto my ring finger.
“It’s so pretty, Jane. It’s perfect. I love it so much.”
“It’s been in my family for generations.”
“I’ll treasure it!”
It’s an odd thing but neither of us could claim that what had just transpired was merely a Sunday game. It was as if a spell had been cast over us making our engagement real. We didn’t want the spell to be broken. Much better to leave it in place and worry about the consequences sometime later on. For my part I believed that I was engaged to Jane – she had given me a real ring after all – and I hoped that she felt the same way.
The event of that Sunday permeated my life from then on. It’s a powerful life milestone to become engaged – to know that another human being has such a love for you that they’re willing to make the commitment of marriage. Whether interacting with my parents or in school, always in the back of my mind was the thought that I was engaged to Jane and would one day be a bride at my wedding – for surely that’s what Jane would want. She’d get a chance to wear a tuxedo and I know that thrilled her.
***
Near the end of eleventh grade when we were seventeen years old, we had driver’s licenses and in many ways were fast leaving childhood behind. Adulthood was beginning to stare us in the face. The next year we’d be seniors in high school and then having to plan our futures. Our bodies had reached maturity. Jane was a beautiful woman but you’d never know it from her preference for wearing my clothes. I, on the other hand, though my body lacked breasts or female hips, never bulked up into the masculinity of my dad. Thankfully, I retained a more modest frame that remained a reasonable basis for the feminine clothing that suited my inner self.
One Sunday around this time was another of those occasions when my spidey sense told me that Jane was up to something mischievous. When we did our usual clothing exchange and I was expecting Jane’s pantyhose, instead there was a pair of stockings and a girdle. I knew enough about women’s underwear to recognize a girdle when I saw it. “Wow, Jane! You’ve got a girdle and stockings,” I said.
Jane laughed. “I knew you’d get excited. It’s a panty girdle with garters to hold up the stockings.”
“It’s such a pretty thing,” I said, admiring every aspect of the white girdle. It was made of a fabric with a floral design and a lacy diamond-shaped panel in the front. A thin line of lace decorated the waistline and the leg openings. “Why are you wearing a girdle?”
“Because of the mauve dress!” The dress Jane had worn that day tightly framed her figure and was one I’d never seen before. “I wore it to my cousin’s wedding where I was a bridesmaid. My mom said that for a dress this tight I should wear a panty girdle so that men won’t get fixated on any pudgy areas that show up around my rear end and thighs.”
“You have pudgy areas?”
“I know, ridiculous. But my mom is old school. She learned to use girdles from her mom and so she insisted that I wear one also.”
I put on the panty and then stepped into the panty girdle and pulled it up to my waist. “Oh, God, Jane, your panty girdle is the greatest thing ever. I love how packed in I feel. Such a nice secure feeling.”
“I knew you were going to love it.”
“You’ll help me with the stockings? I’ve never used a garter before.”
“Sure, Greg. I’m almost ready.”
I put on Jane’s bra and the D cup breast forms. The mauve dress slipped on tightly over my head.
When Jane came around to help me she was laughing.
“Am I funny looking?” I asked
“No, not at all. I’m laughing because I have another little surprise for you today!”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s get you dressed first.” Jane showed me how to put on stockings and affix them to the garters on the panty girdle. Her shoes had higher heels than any she had brought before and I was fascinated by how I felt walking in them.
“This is so nice Jane. I love this outfit. Girdles are wonderful! Oh my God the stockings and heels and my large bust make me feel so grown up!”
“You’re almost a woman now, Greg,” Jane said laughing, “and I’m almost a man.”
“How’s that?”
“Look!” Jane said. She unbuckled the belt of her pants and lowered them revealing a jock strap that held what looked to be an erect penis.
“What in the world Jane?”
For the longest time Jane had been using rolled-up socks to give herself a male bulge between her legs. Whatever was there now was not a pair of socks.
“Want to see what’s in there?”
“I guess so.”
Jane lifted the side of the jock strap to reveal a lifelike dildo containing a penis and balls. “I finally got the nerve to go to the adult book shop. You know the one that’s just outside the city limits? You have to be eighteen but they didn’t check my age or even care. You won’t believe how many penises they sell there. I bought this relatively small one …”
“Small?”
“It’s just six inches. They had like ten inch ones! Unbelievable. They had ones that I could attach so that I didn’t need the jock strap to hold it. I felt tempted to buy one of those but that’s for another day.”
“What would you use that for?” I asked.
Jane laughed. “Do you have to ask? You’re the one who will love it!”
“I will?”
“For as long as we’ve known each other you’ve wanted to be the girl and I’ve wanted to be the boy, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And we’re still very much engaged to be married, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“My point is that it’ll always be my responsibility as husband to supply a penis for your enjoyment.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“The same way you supply breasts for me to enjoy.”
“True. And I have to supply you with a vagina?”
“Of course, Greg.”
“Can it be imaginary?”
Jane laughed, “Depending on the situation.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s all right, Greg. When we’re older we can figure that out. For now let’s just enjoy ourselves in whatever easy way comes to mind.”
As always Jane was more mature than I was. She seemed to know more about how we might interact sexually than I was aware of. As long as she loved me and still wanted me as her bride, then all was well.
“You’re comfortable wearing the penis?” I asked.
“Yes, and you’re comfortable wearing breasts?”
“Sure.”
“It’s nice to walk around with a boner,” Jane said.
“Why?” I asked.
“It reminds me of my power.”
“Over me?”
Jane laughed, “Of course, Greg. As the male I’m naturally more powerful than you. That doesn’t mean I’d ever harm you. You’re my girl, I’m always going to take care of you, protect you.”
“I know that,” I said.
“Good. Let’s play the kissing game!”
Jane and I sat down on the sofa and she enveloped me in her arms and kissed me. She had introduced me to tongue kissing which was supremely enjoyable. Now that I had prominent breasts, Jane spent quite a bit of energy feeling them up. Both outside my blouse and inside on my bra.
I knew that Jane’s passion for feeling me up was connected to her assumption of the boy role. That’s what boys tended to do in this situation. By that logic, I should have an interest in Jane’s penis and I asked myself if the girl within me wanted to explore her body in that way. I was contemplating what I should do until Jane whispered to me in the midst of our passion, “Stroke my dick Greg, don’t be shy, I know you want to.”
“Oh,” I said, “right.”
I gingerly undid Jane’s belt and jeans and reached down into her jock strap and encircled her penis with my hand. It’s hard to describe the emotions running through me, but I’m certain that I was feeling the same way any girl would feel the first time she touched a boy’s penis. Considering that I had one of my own, this was a fascinating insight into how far emotionally I had transitioned into being a girl.
If I stepped back and took a look at all of my feelings, however, I would be lying if I didn’t also have strong desires to fondle Jane’s breasts and vagina. Among the complicated sexual feelings that coursed through my mind I no doubt retained some degree of my boy self. And as far as Jane was concerned, I wondered if she retained a desire for my physical penis.
***
As our senior year arrived and we were crossing eighteen, we knew that time was rapidly passing that would take us to our last summer and then some change in our circumstances. Our lives after that were as yet uncharted. Would we be going to college or would we work on our farms? Would we be together? Would our engagement lead to marriage? What kind of wedding and subsequent marriage would we have?
At some point during this time we realized that as enjoyable as our Sunday afternoon games were – where we enacted our cross dressing and gender reversing fantasies – the powerful physical delight possible from each other’s real bodies was irresistible. The bottom line was Jane could not overlook her desire for my penis and I could not overlook my hunger for her breasts and vagina. The two worlds came together as one by thinking of ourselves as being bisexual. I was a boy pretending to be a girl who enjoyed both boys and girls. And Jane was a girl pretending to be a boy who enjoyed both girls and boys. In this way, a happy equilibrium was established and we spent a summer with our cabin rocking on its foundation as we did what any other red blooded eighteen year olds would do given the opportunity!
One Sunday in the spring of our senior year in high school, when we were sitting together in the cabin, Jane said, “I heard back from my college application.”
I looked at her nervously, “What did they say?”
“I was accepted.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I said while inside I felt a rising distress. We had never discussed whether I’d go with her to college or not.
“I’ll study horticultural and plant science, so I can take over and improve my parent’s farm.”
“That’s so neat.”
Jane laughed. “Greg, your expression is priceless. You’re doing everything you can do to try and look happy and supportive, and I appreciate that, but on the edges you look like you’ve been stabbed in the heart.”
“Being apart from you scares me, but I know it’s best if you go to college without me. We’re too young to be thrust together like that every day.”
“I love that about you, Greg. You know what’s best even if it rips you up inside. The fact is that I haven’t forgotten that I asked you to marry me. I still want you to be my bride. Nothing that has happened since then has shaken my belief that you and I are perfectly suited to each other.”
“Just knowing that I will marry you some day will allow me to get past anything!”
“It’ll be good for us to spend some time apart. Not to fall in love with someone else, but to build our character. We need to be able to have some separate experiences in the world so that we can appreciate each other even more than we already do. Trust me. You’ll cry a little bit but then you’ll get involved with what you’re doing and then have so much to share with me when I come back at Christmas time.”
“You’re right.”
“When I’m gone I want you to enroll in the community college. They have classes in family and consumer sciences that I know you’ll love. They’ll teach you about raising children, cooking, and other domestic skills. When I come back from the fields I’ll need you to make me a nice stew!” Jane laughed.
“Oh my God, Jane, I remember that game! You were going to hit me!”
Jane faced me and took my hands in hers. “Let’s set a wedding date, Greg. That should give you enough peace of mind to get you through the next year.”
“You mean we could marry next summer?”
“Sure, why not?”
We picked a date in late June. “A little over a year and …”
“And?”
“I was thinking that when I become a Ms. I’d like to take on your last name, is that okay?” I said.
Jane laughed. “Of course, you should. One thing we have to do is let our parents know we’re engaged and that we have picked out a wedding date. Also …”
“Also?” I asked.
“We need to let them know that I’ll be the groom and you’ll be the bride.”
“Oh, oh, I’ve been dreading that!”
“It’s one of those things where they’ll be shocked but then they’ll get used to it. Eventually they won’t even notice that anything is unusual.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Anyway, we have no choice. I won’t go through my life afraid to be myself,” Jane said.
“If you’re with me I can survive anything!”
“We could get our four parents together and make the announcement!”
Our parents knew that Jane and I played together and were good friends. There even had been a few times that the families had gotten together for barbecues with a number of other neighbors present. At those times Jane and I kept our special connection under wraps. Our parents formed a congenial group which we hoped would work out in our favor when we dropped our bomb on them.
***
After Jane and I graduated from high school we arranged for our parents to assemble together at Jane’s farmhouse for dinner. I think my parents suspected that Jane I were going to make an announcement of our engagement though I didn’t let on that that was our purpose.
I went over to Jane’s house ahead of time with my parents to follow later. When they arrived, Jane and I would greet everyone in our clothing of choice.
“This is not a time to be halfhearted,” Jane told me in her bedroom. “We must go all out. Don’t hold back. Pick out the prettiest dress in my closet as well as a bra and panty. Wear the panty girdle and stockings if you like.”
I had brought with me the masculine work clothes that Jane loved. Her intent was to appear every bit as masculine as our fathers. Her hair was now shorter than my own. I had been slowly growing mine out sneaking past my parent’s radar. Jane had instructed her hairdresser to take a bit more off each time she had it cut.
I got dressed slowly and carefully trembling the whole time. Jane had been the only one to ever see me wearing a dress and I couldn’t begin to imagine how my parents would react. I chose to wear a stunning ballroom gown that Jane had worn to a cousin’s wedding. It had been picked out by her mom. White two inch heels went with the dress and brand new hose that I expertly attached to my panty girdle. There was no mistaking my large D cup chest for that of a well-endowed girl. I put on make-up including lipstick and a dash of perfume. I risked being more feminine than my own mother but would be dressed in exactly the kind of outfit that would please Jane’s mom.
When we heard my parents arrive and the two couples exchanging greetings it was time for us to make our entrance. “You look so handsome,” I said to Jane.
“You are adorably pretty, Greg,” Jane said. “I know you’re worried but trust that I’ll keep this evening sane. Your parents will begin the process of accepting who you truly are. Besides, I would never let my future wife be treated poorly!”
With that Jane took my hand and we left her bedroom and walked out to the living room to meet our parents.
***
Jane and I walked into the living room to face our parents. Their faces told the whole story. Mouths agape eyes bugging out they stared at the two of us.
“We’re so pleased that you are present to celebrate Greg and my engagement to be married. Greg hold up your hand so they can see your engagement ring!”
I lifted up my hand with the pretty ring displayed.
“As you can see, we have a somewhat unorthodox take on marriage,” Jane said. “I’m to be the husband and Greg will be my wife. This is a consequence of the fact that Greg makes a very attractive and feminine girl who loves to wear pretty clothes. I, on the other hand, am naturally a rugged and masculine boy who’s ready to take on manhood.”
The room was uncomfortably silent until Jane’s mom said, “That engagement ring was to be for you, Jane.”
“It belongs on Greg’s finger. He’s to be the wife,” Jane said.
My mom said, “Greg, that’s really you? In a dress? With makeup, heels, and stockings?”
“Yes, Mom,” I said.
“A bosom bigger than mine?”
“Yes, Mom,” I said.
My father’s expression had turned from astonishment to a kind of crazed look of bewilderment.
“Jane, since when are you a man?” Jane’s father said.
“What’s wrong with you Jane?” her mother said. “What’s gotten into the two of you?”
“Exactly,” my dad said. “Are you two on drugs?”
“This just shows the four of you how little you’ve paid attention to your kid’s desires all these years,” Jane said. “Mom, you’ve dressed me in girly clothes ever since I was little. No matter how many times I complained about it, you kept on insisting that I wear feminine dresses and fancy bras and panties. I never wanted them!”
“Yeah, dad,” I said. “You’ve wanted me to be manly and help you with the physically hard tasks on the farm and you’ve seen yourself that I just don’t have the strength to do them! You’ve also known that I’ve always like helping mom with the things that she does – what you call women’s work – but you never acknowledged that.”
“We were just acting like any parents would who loved their kids!” Jane’s dad said.
“We’re not blaming you. None of you made us the way we are. This is just who we are!” Jane said.
“A son who is more feminine than me! I think my mind might explode,” my mom said.
“Is that really such a bad thing?” Jane’s Mom said to my mom. “Look at how sweet Greg looks in that dress. He’s like a little angel!”
My mom made a quiet grunting sound and Jane’s mom added, “Come here, Greg!”
I walked over to her and my mom joined us. Across the room I saw my dad joining up with Jane. I overheard my dad say, “You’re tough and strong?” and Jane nodded. Her father joined the two of them.
“You really like wearing girly dresses and being feminine?” Jane’s mom said to me while carefully scrutinizing me from head to toe.
“Yes, I do.”
“You want to be a girl?” my mom asked me.
“Yes, mom, I hope I haven’t hurt you!”
“I don’t know about hurt. This is such a shock, but you’re my son, well my child at least, and I want to understand you.”
“How long have you wanted to be a girl?” Jane’s mom asked.
“As long as I can remember. I loved looking at girls wearing pretty dresses,” I said. “I’d make up fantasies in which I was surrounded by dozens of girls wearing puffy dresses. Often times I’d be sitting in a school bus and everyone in it was a girl in a pretty dress. That was way before puberty. Eventually I decided I wanted to be one of those girls. I wanted to wear a dress like they did.”
“So you grew up envying girls?” my mom said.
“Yeah, I think that’s what my fantasies were about. Jealousy. I’d see a girl wearing a cute dress and I just wanted to be her. Jane finally let me be a girl!”
“You’ve answered so many questions for me,” my mom said. “As you well know, for the longest time your father was disappointed in your lack of masculinity. He and I knew that you seemed to gravitate toward me – doing what I do and being with me. I was always happy for your affection but I was also sensitive to your father’s frustration.”
“This is so fascinating,” Jane’s mom said. “Greg sounds like everything I ever wanted in a daughter. Had he been my son I might have ended up dressing him up as a girl – I mean helping him to live his fantasy. But Jane was the opposite of a girl. She hated the pretty dresses, panties, and bras I bought for her, but I never gave up hoping that one day she’d blossom into a beautiful, feminine, woman.”
“How long have you and Jane been together with roles reversed?” my mom asked.
“Since we were ten,” I said. “I admired the pretty dress she had worn to church and she let me wear it.”
Jane’s mom laughed. “You mean all those years you were wearing the pretty dresses I bought for Jane?”
“Yes.”
“And what about her lingerie?” my mom asked.
“When Jane got her first bra, I got my first chance to wear a bra. As she developed to a D cup, so did I. That’s why I wear D cup bras now.”
“Taking Jane to get her first bra was torture,” Jane’s mom said. “How much more pleasant it would have been taking Greg for his first bra!”
“I always loved having a son,” my mom said, “but I also was a bit sad that I never had a daughter. Had I known about Greg’s predilection, just like you said I would have probably ended up dressing him like the girl he wanted to be. Of course, his father wouldn’t be too happy about it!”
“I hope more than anything that from now on I can be your daughter,” I said to my mom. Turning to Jane’s mom I said, “And I want to be your daughter-in-law!”
“You’re so sweet Greg,” Jane’s mom said. “I think you’re going to be the perfect wife for Jane.”
“You should know that us women must always support each other,” my mom said.
“I agree,” Jane’s mom said. “Your mom and me will always be available for you to lean on. Any marriage problems or feminine issues you would like to discuss, we’re here for you!”
“Living with a man is not always a bed of roses,” my mom said. “Even when they’re kind and considerate, they’re incapable of seeing the woman’s perspective on things.”
“I really appreciate your kindness. I want to be a perfect wife for Jane and it’s a real comfort to know that you’ll help me make that possible!”
My mom hugged me and then Jane’s mom hugged me. I shed a few tears.
“I would love for both of you to help me pick out a wedding dress,” I said to my mom and Jane’s mom.
“Thank you, Greg,” Jane’s mom said. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy that will make me.” She laughed and added, “I had never imagined that I’d ever be able to get Jane to a bridal store. I imagined her getting married wearing white coveralls!” The three of us laughed.
“She’s such a man,” I said, “which is one reason I love her so much. I feel so well protected by her. Jane will always treat me nice!”
Across the room Jane and the two dads were talking and gesturing to each other as if they were buddies. It made my heart melt with love for Jane. That she was able to bring the dads on board with our plans!
Jane saw me looking at her and she and the two fathers walked over to the moms and me.
“What have you men decided?” Jane’s mom asked.
My dad laughed and said, “Jane is the son I was always harping about. She’s strong and capable. Do you know that she can singlehandedly put in fences? She can repair a tractor. I can easily see her managing our farms.”
“She’ll make a fine husband for Greg,” Jane’s dad said. “I don’t know how I could have been so blind to who Jane truly is. When I think back on our useless attempts to get her to sit still and help her mom, it would have been smarter to just let her be herself!”
“Same with Greg,” my dad said. “He was always wanting to help his mom and I couldn’t accept it.”
“Are you and Jane planning to have children?” Jane’s mom asked.
“Definitely,” I said. “I want to be their mom, though of course Jane will have to go through childbirth.”
“Well, I think the future looks bright,” my dad said. “Greg and Jane can eventually take over our farms and combine them.”
“Then we can retire!” Jane’s dad said.
“Travel the world,” my mom said.
Jane and I looked at each other and she came over to me and enveloped me in her strong arms. I knew a hard year was coming when we’d be apart, but I also knew that I’d be very busy working with my mom and Jane’s mom in planning the wedding that would come next June. Picking out the right bridal gown would take some thought. I had to get it exactly right. Also I would have to consider what sexy negligee I ought to wear on my wedding night. These were the kinds of questions that are so nice to have.
The End