L Is for Lucy

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Transgender themed stories which I hope will be of interest to those who like women, or would like to be a woman. Which includes me!
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This was it. IT! THE chance of a lifetime. The sort of evening I'd been waiting so long for. A couple of times I'd thought my chance had come but each time something had gone wrong, someone had changed their mind. Either Mum, or Dad, or Stephanie, someone had decided to stay in. Or decided that I should go out with them. But this time it was going to be OK, it was going to work.

Stephanie - well, no problem. She was away at college now. She was a year older than me. I was heading off on my own soon, just hoping to end up in some sort of accommodation which would allow - you-know-what.

Mum was away for the evening, probably for the night even. Some sort of planning for her summer school, I didn't know all the details. But the last two occasions had kept her out until well after midnight. She'd already said sorry to me and to Dad because this one was going to have to be the last, so it would last even longer. Maybe up until two or three in the morning, but she said it just had to be done. I didn't mind, not one bit.

And this time Dad was out too. With City playing in the Cup a long way up in the North-East, and all the after-match drinking and so on, they were going in a coach. I knew damn well it wasn't due to set off back until just before midnight, so he was out until about two as well.

So from 7 pm, when Mum had to set off for her drive to Oxford, I would be, to coin a phrase, 'Home Alone'. Did I mind? Hell I didn't. This was going to be - IT.

I knew about it almost three weeks in advance, just after the draw for the next round of the Cup. I had realised what it meant, and I'd put the plan I'd had in mind for about two years into action. Lots of it was sorted already, I had SO wanted the chance for this. I had to buy a few extras, raided my pre-college account in the bank a bit. I knew I'd have to do some extra overtime at the store to replace it pretty soon after so Mum and Dad didn't realise what I'd done. But it would be worth it, I knew it would.

I was also aware that there would be some hiding to be done afterwards, not wandering round the house in shorts, that sort of thing. I'd have to be careful not to reveal my hairless legs. I'd also have to work out something with my eyebrows. I was determined to pluck them, to look as good as possible. I was going to stand out, this night was going to be perfect.

The preparation started within a minute of Mum driving off, at exactly five past seven that Saturday evening. I'd warned all my friends I was going to be busy, made some excuses about helping parents with something and so on. I was sure nobody would call round, inviting me to the pub or out to a club. I had my own brand of fun in mind.

I went through the routine, fitting together all the bits I had done before, it was going to take me about three hours I reckoned. That with all the new aspects of my change-over, the extras I'd bought specially for that evening. Not cheap but, again, worth every penny. Breast-forms at over £200 the pair, but they looked so great, so realistic, I'd paid for quality. They felt good and looked good too, a very good colour-match to my own skin. And the latex multi-gaff, that's what it called itself, that had been expensive too but that was going to feel just fantastic. The colour and texture, even in its bag, looked just about right. I was so excited by the thought. My own vagina!

The shower took me twenty minutes, washing away my body hair, leaving a baby-smooth skin. The hair-removal gel was expensive but it did a great job. And yes, I had remembered to wear swimming trunks while using it. I didn't want to lose THAT hair, though I had trimmed it slightly in advance. It was going to be needed to curl round the edges and to make the gaff look good.

And it did look good. Why I was wanting to wear it I didn't know. I mean, all that area was going to be covered up, under my panties and my short skirt. But I needed to do it for the sake of 'completeness'. It stuck in place, with my penis squashed flat and padded round, to give as female-looking a shape as was really possible, with a thin tube leading from the condom-like fitment down between my legs to my 'vagina'. It tucked into place, the pubic hair covering the join.

The breast-forms too, I did those next. Again, stuck on, for the very first time. I'd worn them before of course, but only indoors when I was dressing up just for me for a couple of hours. And I'd never stuck them into place before. This time I did, and I spent ages on the make-up over the join. They'd cost me a packet, very best quality silicone and as near as made no difference matched to my own skin tones. The result was more than satisfactory, I just couldn't see the join. They felt good too, I imagined someone holding them, caressing them, getting aroused by the ...

'Calm down, Luke!' I thought to myself. 'You don't want to bust your gaff, do you!'

I settled down and set to getting on with my transformation. I sneaked into my mothers' bedroom, actually I don't know why I was being so careful since nobody else was around, nobody was due back for hours and hours yet. Taking the black bra and panties my father had bought her the previous Valentine's day, I slipped them on, pulling the tiny thong up tight over my new 'cunt' and tucking my boobs into the cups of the uplift bra. I'd got the size right, I guessed I was about a 36-DD then, tightly held in by the 36-CC silky bra.

I hurried through the next bit, this was so easy and so much fun. Again I raided Mum's lingerie drawer for her black suspender belt, another present from Dad of course, she rarely wore it herself. I'd bought my own stockings, sheer and black and seamed, and luxuriated in the experience of gently and carefully sliding them up my smooth legs and clipping them to the belt.

Usually at this stage I slipped a skirt on but, with the increased confidence I'd got from the effects of my prosthetics I decided on the wig next. It had taken some finding but it had been worth it, I'd always got a buzz before from wearing it. My mother has always been my role-model, in common with lots of other trannies, I think. And I'd sought out a wig of the same length and a very similar colour to her own natural hair, or at least the colour she wore most of the time.

I turned to look at myself. Again I became aroused, I was looking in the mirror at my mother! Even, to an extent, without the make-up the effect was remarkable. OK it would need make-up to do the job properly but this was so close. Yet again, I tried to calm down, I needed to relax and to continue.

Eventually, nearly an hour later, my change-over was complete. Luke was gone, Lucy had arrived. Mrs Lucy Masters, wife of Peter, mother of Stephanie and Luke. I stared open-mouthed at the final, overall effect. I was looking at my mother! At Lucy! Well, not quite Lucy. Despite deliberately going over the top with the make-up to give myself some sort of older-woman look, extra mascara and eye-liner and so on, it wasn't quite right. But it was so bloody close! A somewhat younger, tarted up version, yes, but there were so many similarities. And I did so like thinking of myself as my mother when I dressed up.

It really was going even better than I'd hoped. Wearing clothes similar to what my mother often wore, indeed some of them were hers, made up in a style very like her own, though with the sheer stockings and my own very high-heeled black spiked heels and of course Stephanie's tight leather micro-skirt - I could easily have been my own mother! I moved around a bit, leering at my reflection in the tall mirror, posing, watching myself feeling my boobs, lifting my skirt and sliding a red-taloned thumb along the inviting reddish line between my legs - my own vagina! - it really did look as if I was watching my mother playing with herself With her cunt! I shivered. It was surreal really - I'd never really had any sort of Oedipus complex. I loved my mother of course but not in THAT way.

I tried to calm down again, pulling my skirt down and carrying on with my admiration of my reflection. I really DID look like a slightly younger version of her. Well, if I was going to actually BE her for a couple of hours, there were another couple of ways I could enhance my fantasy. I found her best shoulder bag, plain black soft leather with a gold clasp and a long gold chain. I slung it over my shoulder. And then I went into her jewellery tray, got some items I'd always liked the look of but never actually dared take.

But this time, I dare. Two gold chains, the thick gold bracelet Dad had bought her last Christmas, four of her 'dress' rings, not real gold but good-looking. The earrings were a disappointment, only then did I realise all Mother's were for pierced ears - of course they were. But then I remembered something, and crept back into Stephanie's room. Again, I don't really know why I was creeping, no-one else was in the house. I hunted a little through her dressing-table drawers and found what I wanted, the big pair of gold-effect dangling clip-on earrings she had got before she had her own ears done. I clipped them on too. I shivered a little, I wanted to see the full effect now.

For quite some time I'd been dressing up, not fully you understand, just an item or two. Always in secret when the rest of the family was out for some time. Always in my bedroom, safe behind closed doors just in case someone came back early. And, of course, always alone. But I wanted to extend my fantasy, to go further into the realm of womanhood somehow. First off, this one I had thought ahead about, I could go downstairs into the kitchen and the lounge, be a sexy wife or something like that.

I looked carefully into the long mirror. Yes! I could do this.

I switched off the bedroom light and carefully made my way downstairs. This was new territory for me, as 'Lucy' anyway. I'd closed the downstairs curtains at the front of the house before starting on my dressing activities. I put on the lounge light and steadily walked forward, careful on my sky-high stilettos. I was shivering, tingling, excited, terrified, all at once.

I felt the thrill of each step as my sheer nylon stockings smoothly glided past each other at the top of my thighs. I wondered at the sensations I was feeling as my 'boobs' gently bounced with each step, and as my long red hair swirled past my ears and cheeks. And I gazed in amazement at the reflection of my long lithe female body in the dark glass of the full length windows.

I stood, staring, sliding my hands down my tight plunging top, past the belt and over my skirt towards my stockings. I shivered in excitement. I smiled. 'Lucy' smiled back at me. Could life be better? Yet I wanted it to, to be even better. I wanted to be my mother, to lead the life she led, to have the chance to wear clothes like these, to wear make-up and extra-high heels, instead of my own unbelievably boring shirt and trousers and so on. I looked towards the clock on the wall. I had time, hours yet. More, I wanted more.

I walked, more steadily now as I became accustomed to the heels, towards the kitchen. In the top drawer of the dresser I found what I expected there. A pack of Mum's cigarettes. No, actually, I thought. My cigarettes. After all, I was Lucy now, wasn't I? I went back into the lounge and poured myself a drink, a small gin and tonic. I knew there would be problems if I had too many. Mum or Dad would notice if the level in the gin bottle went down much, but I knew I'd be OK here. I sat on the sofa with my cigarette and my drink, feeling every inch the woman. I crossed my legs, imagining what just would happen if someone came in, if ....

No! I felt myself becoming slightly aroused.

'Calm down, Lucy,' I told myself. 'Have another gin.'

So I did. Then I did something even more daring, OK it wasn't really, but I was going further than ever before. Women - especially attractive women, 'like me' I thought, didn't usually like to go out alone. Usually it was with a man. Well, that wasn't on. But I was feeling so good - what about it? Go out, I mean. Actually BE my mother. I'd thought about it before, but this time. I'd gone so much further than before, and I felt SO good. Yes! I NEED TO DO IT.

Within a minute I'd assembled what I'd need. My mother's mock leather jacket, a little money - I had a couple of fivers, that would do me, mother's handbag, the black leather one with the gold chain. And I hesitated, but not for long. Mother's car keys. Since she'd gone with a couple of friends to her planning meeting, her little car was still parked at the side of the house. That was the reason for the hesitation.

Though I wasn't too sure about some of the things I'd done I didn't think that up to then I'd actually broken the law. But I was about to. I mean, no insurance, no driving licence, if I got caught there would be hell to pay somewhere along the line. But the gin-and-tonic I'd had was clouding my judgement. I did consider the 'drink driving' aspect of what I was thinking of but – I'd only had the one.

I slipped the coat on, grabbed the keys and - went out of the front door! It was late Saturday evening, and I knew there would be very few people about, certainly none of the neighbours. Deliberately I didn't switch on the light outside the garage. I had to fumble a bit in the dark with Mum's keys but I did get it open, slid in quickly and closed the door. I was a little relieved when the interior light switched itself off. I pushed the key into the ignition. I turned it. The engine started first time. I breathed in deeply a few times, struggling a little to clip on the seat belt over my bulging breasts.

I took some doing. OK so I'd had a dozen or so practice driving lessons with Dad, but only once in the dark. For the first couple of hundred yards, up to the end of the road that is, everything went OK, but then I realised I was going to have problems. The foot-pedals I managed fine, I didn't have any problem at all driving in the high heels, in fact I think I coped better than usual. But everything else, the lights, the gear changing, steering, doing all those things at once, quite quickly I knew I was going to be in big trouble. I had to get out of it, and quick.

So I turned left onto the superstore car park just past the end of our road. I'm glad it was to the left, there were a few other cars around, if I'd had to turn right I might well have hit one of them. I pulled up to a halt not far from the store entrance. I hadn't intended stopping there. I'd been thinking more of going to somewhere smaller about half a mile away but I knew that wasn't really on. It was this or nothing. I switched off the ignition. I sat there for half a minute. Thinking.

Why was I so hesitant? Well, this was MY store. Where I worked, part time at least, Thursday and Friday evenings usually, filling up shelves and taking away boxes, that sort of thing. The usual student jobs. Being paid a pittance but it was work, it was money, it was better than nothing. Heck, it had paid for my heels, and for my tits and my pussy come to that.

But - actually going into the store? Dressed like that? Well, I thought. Why not? Late on a Saturday night, I didn't think there would be any of the staff I knew in there at that time. With the 24-hour opening and all that, all the staff were on shift-work, even the full-timers. None of my colleague shelf stackers, Keith and Mary-Ann and Tina and Gemma, none of them would be there. I knew for a fact that none of them worked Saturdays. Gemma did Fridays and Sundays, I couldn't properly remember the rest. But not Saturdays, none of them.

And as for the more permanent staff, the Manager and the assistants and so on, none of them knew me very well. I was totally sure that even if someone I had worked with saw me, in no way would I be recognised. Not dressed like that, nicely 'made-up' looking really female I thought. It was a risk but a calculated one.

And there would be yet another vicarious thrill walking into Fresco's in a short tight leather skirt and a top, in high heels and long red wig. I just had to. So I opened the door and swung my legs out, standing carefully in the 6" spikes, and turned and locked the car door. Then I set off on the twenty-yard walk towards the entrance. The feeling was almost beyond belief. All the things I'd been imagining, the coolish breeze on my nylon-covered legs, the tightness of the skirt, the swinging of my 'long hair' – the whole thing was just – amazing. My heart was going nineteen-to-the-dozen as I approached the automatic door. I slid open and I was in.

I had forgotten - not that it mattered. The video cameras! I was being filmed on the security system. Either John or Larry or one of the other security team might be upstairs now, watching me on the cameras. My heart fluttered just a little but I managed to stay calm, to gently stroll over towards the kiosk in the corner. It was the experience, the shopping thing, that was what I'd come for. I didn't care one bit what I bought, I just wanted to see and be seen. I really didn't want to go all the way round the store, basket in hand, picking up beans and butter and stuff like that. I had decided as I walked in that the easiest thing to do was to go to the lottery kiosk.

I headed towards it, recognising very vaguely the girl behind the counter though I didn't know her name. I was safe, she wouldn't recognise me at all. I handed the five-pound note across to her.

"Five lucky dips, please, for midweek."

Not much of a first, that. Not much of a memorable first sentence for the new 'Lucy Masters', first-time-out-as-a-woman. But it worked. I had managed to keep my voice quiet, hopefully to blend into the surroundings in a rather female way. The girl accepted my money and pressed some buttons on the terminal, handing back to me my printed-out tickets. I smiled and muttered a quiet 'Thank you', opening my handbag to slide them in as I turned. My heart really was thumping by then, I should have taken more care ....

And I bumped, quite hard, into someone standing right behind me. The tickets went flying, as did several items from my handbag, my lighter, my cigarette pack, a comb, something else....

"Oh my, sorry madam. Here, let me help you."

And the guy I'd bumped into bent down and quickly collected together my strewn items. He stood and offered them to me. I was standing there, in front of him, in front of a man. It must have been the gin, I just giggled. Not a lot, not loudly, I took the proffered items and looked at him.

It was Larry McNeal, one of the security staff. And one who, according to my friend Gemma, was not averse to a bit of playing round with the female assistants. I looked down again towards my bag, sliding things in, suddenly not too keen to look him in the eye. Then I realised what it was he was looking at, it was the other item I'd dropped. It was one of Mother's credit cards, one she didn't use much, one I'd taken with me just for some comfort, maybe for some sort of ID. Obviously I had no intention at all of using it.

"Really, I am sorry - Mrs Masters?" he said.

He'd looked at the card. He'd seen my mother's name and come to the obvious conclusion. But then....

"Lucy Masters? Do you know Luke, Luke Masters? He works here sometimes, you must be his sister."

I looked at him. As an actor, he was bloody awful. So transparent. He knew damn well I wasn't Luke's sister, he was - hell - he was hitting on me! On Luke Masters' mother!

Before I had time to reply, he moved in, slightly towards me.

"Look, I'm really sorry, that was my fault entirely. Please, can I get you a coffee?"

I was tempted, really tempted. But, despite the drinks and the sheer ecstasy of the whole event, of being mistaken for my mother, I decided against it. Larry was standing there waiting, I just tucked my things into my bag and smiled weakly at him.