While my father showered I got dressed quickly so I could be out of the room and back in the guest room before he was gone. I found a pair of gym shorts that rose high up my thigh but were quite loose enough for my liking. I slipped on one of my dad’s t-shirts, once again going braless, and made my way back to the only place I could avoid people, the guest room.
I killed time on my phone for an hour or so while I waited for my brothers, sister, and mom in my body to go to school. When I knew the coast was clear I headed down stairs, becoming annoyed by the jiggling of my breasts when going down stairs. Still, the annoyance wasn’t enough for me to want to wear a bra. After eating breakfast I spent most of the day lying around watching TV, ignoring my body completely, except of course when I had to use the bathroom. At around 3 o’clock I received a text from my mom.
“Gonna be late, playing Call of Duty with Brian. You’re making dinner, right?” It read. I wasn’t happy to get this text because A. I didn’t realize I was expected to make dinner and B. my mother was going to ruin my reputation at Call of Duty. I knew there wasn’t much I could do so I sent back
I got to work making dinner, keeping it simple with spaghetti. When my siblings got home they got a kick out of me making dinner, but didn’t bother me too much, thankfully. Dinner was almost ready when my mom got home, greeting me in the kitchen.
“Look at you, lady of the house making dinner for her family.” She teased, good naturedly. I was in no mood.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Oh relax” She said, embracing me in a motherly hug, made strange by our reversed rolls. “I’m only teasing you. I know you’re still my hansom son on the inside, even if he could use a bra.”
Soon dinner was ready and the family convened around the table. My father came up from the basement looking frustrated, but assured us that she should have it figured out tomorrow night after he gets home from work. The conversation was tense over dinner. I tried my hardest not to speak and nobody knew exactly what to say. One thing I noticed was that my younger brother, as well as my mother and my father kept looking at my chest. I knew they were looking at my nipples, I could feel them poking through the fabric. I wasn’t going to say anything though and I prayed they wouldn’t either.
“Hey David…” My mother said to me,”Is it a little… cold in here?” Trying to throw me an obvious hint.
“Umm…” I said, my face getting red as my older brother and my sister giggled.
“If you feel cold maybe you should put on a sweater… or a um…” She said softly. I put my fork down and got up.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” I said.
“Try not to fall in again!” My sister giggled as I left, she and my brother then erupting in laughter. I groaned out of anger again, and I heard my mother chide them, “That’s enough you two!”
I went to the bathroom and did my business. When I came out I saw my mother in the hallway waiting fo me.
“David, can I have a word?” She asked gingerly.
“Sure, why not?” I responded sarcastically. My mom led me to my parents room where her clothes were.
“Can you get those two to cut it out? They’ve been like this all day!” I said to her as soon as the door closed.
“They’re doing it because of how much it bothers you. Its your attitude that’s the problem. The more uncomfortable you are the funnier it is for them.”
“Yeah? Well what do you suggest I do?”
“Do what I did, embrace it! You don’t see me walking around in a dress and heels? Nope, I’m dressed for my body.” She said.
“But you like it, clearly. I don’t.”
“I don’t like it anymore than you do, but as long as we’re stuck like this we might as well see the bright side! You’re a woman now, try BEING a woman!”
“So what? I should put on a bra is what you’re saying?”
“Look, I don’t care if you wear a bra or not, at least not at home, but I think its kind of making your father and brother uncomfortable.”
“Oh, they’re uncomfortable?? They should see it from my perspective. Plus Dad keeps checking me out, if he’s uncomfortable that’s his problem, cause it’s making me way MORE uncomfortable.”
“I’ll talk to him, but can you blame him? You’re one hot mama!” My mother joked as I rolled my eyes.
“I can blame him for getting me in this situation in the first place!” I said, crossing my arms and pouting.
“So what are you going to do? Wallow around feeling sorry for yourself, or are you going to put on your big girl panties and show that it’s no big deal?”
“Okay, fine! Whatever, I’ll put a stupid bra on, just stop talking.” I said.
“Excellent! I’ll pick one out!” She said, rummaging through her bra drawer. “What panties are you wearing? I want to find something that matches.” She asked.
“I’m, uh, I’m not wearing any.”
“Seriously? Hmm… I take it you’re not interested in a thong then?” My mother asked cheekily.
“No thanks.” I said firmly. A moment later she handed me a white bra that looked huge in my small hands and a pair of white panties. My mother waited excitedly for me to put them on.
“Some privacy?” I asked.
“Jeez you’re difficult.” she said, turning around.
I took off my loose clothes and slipped the panties on first, surprised at how smooth yet snug they were. The bra took me a moment as I struggled to clasp it.
“Need help?” My mother asked.
“I’ve got it.” I asserted, taking a few more tries at clasping it before finally succeeding.
“Okay.” I said as she turned around. She showed me how to adjust my breasts so they fit in the cups better and I did, albeit with an attitude.
“Happy?” I asked.
“How does it feel?” She asked
“Just peachy.” I said sarcastically.
“Let me fix your hair!” She said excitedly.
“Seriously? You said just the bra and panties!”
“Come on, it’s a mess! It’ll only take a few seconds.”
“Fine.” I agreed as she took a spray bottle and a brush and began fixing my hair.
“It’s so weird looking at my body from outside of it.” She mused as she combed my bangs.
“You can say that again.”
A few moments later I saw myself in the mirror and saw that my mother had friggin made me pretty. I felt totally stupid sitting there in a bra and panties, and even stupider to know I fit in them. I especially hated all the dots and lacy bits.
“One more thing!” My mother said, opening a small drawer, taking out a string of pearls and putting them around my neck.