Due to Betty's recent illness, most of Betty's sites are limited to members only, and no new registrations for memberships will be accepted at this time.

Trans News ~ Headline News ~ Science News ~ Tech News ~ Paranormal & Aliens
Odd News ~ Betty's YouTube ~ My other channel


The more you give, the
more we can give back!
There has been,

Hits to Betty's
Pubs since
Sept. 30th, 2004

Author Topic: Farm Girl  (Read 22555 times)

0 Members and 6 Guests are viewing this topic.

Alana

  • Winner of the Golden Panties Award
  • **********
  • Posts: 404
  • Karma: +607/-5
Farm Girl
« on: June 10, 2017, 02:19:37 PM »
I live and work on a family farm in upstate Oregon. I'm the youngest of four. I'm pretty much a regular teenaged boy except for one thing. Being as I'm the youngest, I have to wear mostly hand-me-downs. Which wouldn't be so bad.

Except that I have three older sisters.

Dresses. Lots and lots of dresses. In fact, the only clothes I own are some overalls and a shirt and socks and underwear. And some work boots. I get to wear them very rarely, and then they go right in the wash, and it's anyone's guess when I'll ever get to wear them again. It could be a week, it could be a month. My mother even made me grow my hair long, and she styles it for me. My name is Mark but everyone calls me Marilyn, even when I'm lucky enough to be wearing my overalls.

I should mention that my father died when I was very young, and from what I heard, he never treated my mother very well. I could never get the specifics on that, no matter how much I pressed for details. It made her something of a man-hater, so that may be why she so delights in humiliating me.

And yes, she does make me go to school in a dress. Often. The boys call me Marilyn all the time. They flip up my skirt and snap my brastrap. The worst part is gym class. I have to go in there and take off my dress and my slip and my bra, girdle, and pantyhose right in front of all the other boys.

Whenever the school complains, my mother just says that the farm is not doing very well, and she can't afford to buy me new clothes, as though that were a perfectly reasonable excuse to make your son dress like a girl almost constantly. I notice there's always enough money to buy Gloria a new dress whenever she wants one, dresses which I will most likely wind up wearing eventually.

But she's quite right about the farm not doing well. It's not even our farm any more, despite the fact that it's been in my father's family for generations. We had to sell it to a man who runs an insurance firm in the next town, a Mr. Bellam. He bought it with his inheritance. We live on the farm and do all the farm work, and we get half the proceeds from the crops, which doesn't amount to much. We have no contract with him, so he could throw us off the farm at any time and get someone else to do the work, which he always seems to be reminding us.

"Mom!" I said, one Saturday morning in August. "Where are my overalls?"

"In the wash. Put on that denim dress of Gloria's."

"Aw, Mom, not another dress!"

"You heard me. And put on some pantyhose. I don't want you freezing to death."

I got dressed, and she said, "Get your make-up on. You might as well look pretty."

"To do farm work?"

"Yes! And get your sister's high heels on. No daughter of mine is wearing work boots with a dress."

"I'm not your daughter. And I can't do farm work in high heels."

"Your sisters don't have any problem with it."

"Why are you always trying to humiliate me?"

"Oh, so it's humiliating, being a girl, is it? How is that?"

I could see I wasn't going to win this argument, so I shut up.

I went out to do some work, and I'd barely gotten done with feeding the chickens when a voice startled me.

"Excuse me, miss? Are you one of the Jones sisters? I don't think I recognize you."

I turned and found myself face to face with Mr. Bellam! And me in a dress! He'd only seen me once before, and I was lucky enough to be wearing overalls then.

"Y-yes," I stammered, in a voice which I hoped sounded like a girl.

"I thought I'd met all of you. Which one are you?"

I was so nervous, I didn't know what to do with my hands. I touched my hair. He was smiling, so I smiled back.


Alana

  • Winner of the Golden Panties Award
  • **********
  • Posts: 404
  • Karma: +607/-5
Re: Farm Girl
« Reply #1 on: June 10, 2017, 02:25:57 PM »
"M-Marilyn."

I just couldn't stand to have one more person laugh at me, today. If he wanted to think I was a girl, so be it.

A breeze floated by, and by reflex I reached down to hold my skirt in place.


Alana

  • Winner of the Golden Panties Award
  • **********
  • Posts: 404
  • Karma: +607/-5
Re: Farm Girl
« Reply #2 on: June 10, 2017, 02:30:24 PM »
There was no need. This denim dress wouldn't be fluttering in the wind.

"I came to ask your mother something. She said something about one of her kids getting high marks in a secretarial course. Suzanne, that's my secretary, Suzanne has a family emergency and needs a week off. I was going to get a temp, but instead I thought I'd come here and offer the job to one of you. You don't happen to know who she meant, do you?"

It was me. Well, they made me do most of the paperwork on the farm, and secretarial skills come in handy. I was about to admit it was me, but I wasn't quite sure it was a good idea.

"I don't know," I said.

Alana

  • Winner of the Golden Panties Award
  • **********
  • Posts: 404
  • Karma: +607/-5
Re: Farm Girl
« Reply #3 on: June 10, 2017, 02:34:55 PM »
"Oh, Marilyn, is so modest! She'd be glad to help you out, Mr. Bellam. You couldn't ask for a better secretary."

Mom's voice startled me. I turned around and looked at her, angrily. Then I turned back to Mr. Bellam.

"I'm sure I'm needed here on the farm."

"Oh, we can do without you for a week, Marilyn," she said sweetly. "And you can get some work done when you get home, before bed. It will be fine."

"Well, I don't want to force her into anything. I'll pay two hundred dollars a day."

"Two hundred a day!" I said.

"Let me know. If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the office."

He politely turned down her offer of a cold drink, got in his car, and left.

"Mom! You can't make me do this!"

"Sure I can. We could use the money."

"But he thinks I'm a girl!"

"No one told you to say your name is Marilyn. If you want to tell him you're a boy, go ahead. But you're still going to work in a dress and high heels. You can't wear overalls to the office."

"Can I at least use some of the money to buy some boy clothes for me?"

"We'll see."

That meant no, of course.

When Gloria was told I'd be wearing her dresses to work as a secretary, she threw back her head and laughed.

"Oh, that's too much!" she said. "He really thinks you're a girl? He'll be slapping your ass and slipping his hand up your skirt all day long! I wish I could be there to see it!"

I felt sick.

Monday morning, Gloria picked out a very tight blue floral dress for me to wear. Her dresses were quite grown-up looking. Well, she was a few years older.

I drove out to the insurance office in our old Buick. In this town, no one knew I was a boy. When I entered the office building I realized I'd be the only woman there. Well, the only one who LOOKED like a woman, anyway. The men all noticed me, in fact I don't think they took their eyes off me until I was out of sight in Mr. Bellam's private office.

"Welcome, Marilyn. That's a very lovely dress you're wearing."

Alana

  • Winner of the Golden Panties Award
  • **********
  • Posts: 404
  • Karma: +607/-5
Re: Farm Girl
« Reply #4 on: June 10, 2017, 02:39:34 PM »
"Thank you, sir."

"Please, call me George. I notice it's a little tight. I hope it's not going to be too tight for you to work in."

"Well, if it is, it's too late now. I don't plan on taking it off, if that's what you're suggesting."

He laughed condescendingly, as grown-ups do.

He showed me my desk, and I got right to work typing and filing. One of my very important duties was to go get coffee for my lord and master, because he couldn't possibly be bothered to do that himself. He didn't have a coffee cup. He preferred to drink if from a Styrofoam cup, which I thought was a little strange, but who am I, a boy in a dress, to be calling someone else strange? So several times a day I had to leave his office and go to the coffee room on the other side of the building and bring him back a cup of coffee.

I began to think it was just so the men could get a look at me as often as possible. Whenever I headed for the coffee room, all conversation would cease. The first time I didn't dare glance in their direction. I just knew every eye was on me, and it made me tense.

Alana

  • Winner of the Golden Panties Award
  • **********
  • Posts: 404
  • Karma: +607/-5
Re: Farm Girl
« Reply #5 on: June 10, 2017, 02:44:02 PM »
The next time, I thought to myself, why shouldn't I look at them? If they're allowed to stare at me, I can certainly look at them. So I did.

Alana

  • Winner of the Golden Panties Award
  • **********
  • Posts: 404
  • Karma: +607/-5
Re: Farm Girl
« Reply #6 on: June 10, 2017, 02:48:27 PM »
You never saw more heads snap back into place in your life! I'd caught them staring at my legs, and they were embarrassed and afraid to look in my direction.

I figured they'd have to stop staring, eventually. Yes, I'm wearing a dress, I have legs, I'm a girl.

Except I wasn't, but they didn't need to know that.

The third time going for coffee, I was accompanied by the familiar silence, so I knew they were staring. Hadn't they ever seen a girl in a tight dress before? Well, there was nothing I could do about it, so I might as well try and have some fun. I didn't look in their direction until I was almost at the coffee room, then I turned and gave them a little wave.

 

The more you give, the more I can give back.

The dots in the map below represent every person who visited Betty's since May 17, 2020. Blinking dots show people currently here. However if you haven't clicked on anything in a couple minutes your dot won't blink until you click on something again.

























Web
Analytics

Hits to Betty's Pubs since Sept. 30th, 2004

eXTReMe Tracker

Website, forum design, software, & security on this site is copyrighted. It was made personally by Betty Pearl, of Betty Pearl's Pubs, Sissy Stories, buffalobetties, pearlcorona. Betty's Pub is a non-profit organization & support group for the transgendered, & Fetware community. We don't sell anything, & we don't data mine your personal information & habits to sell like MOST other sites do. We respect your privacy & won't sell it out for a few bucks.

Site for: Sissy Stories, ABDL Stories, Sissy Art, Crossdressing, Transgender