SubscribeStar Story: The Flower Boy, Chapter Four

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Chapter Four

When they arrived back at the house, there was immediately a complication.

A car that Sam didn’t recognize had taken their spot in the driveway, and someone else had parked on the curb. He wasn’t ready for anyone to see him like this! Wasn’t all the wedding stuff supposed to be the following day? He hadn’t considered that Fiona might end up having company that wasn’t on the itinerary, since the bridesmaids were all friends and relatives of hers.

Naturally, Sophie was more amused than worried. “Oh, no,” she smiled, “You want to be ‘Samantha’ for the weekend, right? What if you’re seen in these silly boy clothes?”

He definitely didn’t want that to happen. While disguising himself as a girl was humiliating in its own way, a day or two of pretending to be the opposite gender was better than forever dealing with the ‘flower boy’ reputation at future family gatherings and other events. “Shut up,” he muttered, not appreciating the suggestion that he wanted any of this. It was all for the new car, and whatever bullshit about being a team player for the wedding. “Just find somewhere for me to change.” There had to be a store nearby with a public bathroom or something.

“Don’t talk to your older cousin like that,” Sophie said, “And we’re already here. Just change in the car. Here, give me a second.” She popped the trunk and got out of the car to look through the clothes they had just bought for him.

Sam started to protest, only to sulk in silence when Sophie closed the door behind her. He was in no position to argue, when someone might glimpse him from inside, or even come out to grab something from one of the other cars and head over upon seeing Sophie. The sooner they dealt with this, the better.

A minute or two later, his bratty sister circled around to the passenger side and handed him a pink skirt and a pair of plain white panties from the pack he had chosen. “Put these on,” she instructed him, “I’ll stand watch.” Noticing the hesitant look on his face, she scoffed and said, “Why do you think we bought all this stuff for you, Sammie? You have to wear it. Or do you not want to be Samantha any more?”

Another unfair use of ‘want.’ The flower boy thing was bad either way; Sam was just choosing the least painful option. Sophie was going to tease him relentlessly about this either way, and would no doubt take satisfaction every time she made him blush and/or every time he complained about what they both knew he’d end up doing anyway. “Don’t look,” he muttered, begrudgingly taking the skirt and underwear.

“At what?” she giggled, “Your little virgin dick? I doubt there’s anything to see down there. And I bet you’ll fit perfectly into those panties.”

Immediately failing at his resolve to not react in a way that entertained her, Sam looked absolutely stunned as she closed the door in his face. Sure, he had dealt with plenty of obnoxious teasing revolving around his height, but it had never been that crass or overt before. And though they weren’t blood related, it was still all kinds of wrong and inappropriate for his step-sister to reference that.

She wasn’t that far off, either. Sam was on the smaller side, like everything else when it came to his body, and hadn’t yet sealed the deal with a girl. He had gotten to second and third base a few times, but that was it. But that didn’t mean Sophie could insult him like that, lucky guess or not.

He wasn’t given a chance to express as much. True to her word, Sophie started standing watch, by leaning against the passenger door. Not exactly something he could complain about, when she had positioned herself in a way that blocked him from anyone who might be walking by or coming out of the house. It just doubled as a not so subtle means of making it so he couldn’t open the door, leaving him stuck with the task of changing into the feminine clothes. That, or awkwardly climbing over to the driver’s side if he decided to get out of the car on his own terms and bail on the ‘Samantha’ idea.

Opting for the former, since he knew he was on the hook for the flower girl role whether he leaned into it or not, Sam undid the button and zipper on his shorts. After double checking that Sophie wasn’t tricking him and setting herself up to turn around and take a picture or something like that, he lifted his ass off the seat and began working his shorts and underwear down. He had changed in the car before, though it was usually just a matter of doing so with his outer layers. Going fully bottomless was a bit more awkward, both because of the semi-public setting, as well as how his bare backside against the leather a few seconds later wasn’t too comfortable.

Using his removed boxers to cover his private area, he then slipped his feet into the leg holes of the panties. Normally, he would be a lot more hesitant to put on girls’ underwear. When wearing nothing below the waist, however, he was more inclined to cover as quickly as possible. Pulling the unfamiliar underwear up his legs, he shifted the boxers away and lifted up again in order to get the panties the rest of the way on.

Like Sophie had taunted him about, they fit perfectly. Not that crazy, considering they had picked out panties that were in his size. Even so, he cringed at the fabric that was more soft and thin than he was used to. When he was younger, he wore briefs. As it turned out, panties were nothing at all like that save for the vague color/cut.

The thought of being seen in panties was almost as bad as being caught fully bottomless. Once again using the boxers to temporarily cover, he unfolded the pink skirt and stepped into it.

This was the first time he had really looked at the garment. The skirt’s waistband was stretchy, so he could just slip it on and not worry about dealing with a zipper. That, and it was something Sophie could buy for him without having him try it on in a changing room to make sure it fit. Similar to the panties, the skirt sat on his waist in a way that wasn’t too tight or too loose. He blushed slightly at the lack of fabric between his thighs, like he was used to with jeans or shorts, as well as how he was showing a little more leg than before.

Now that he had dealt with the personal embarrassment of wearing panties and a skirt, he was going to have to suffer through Sophie’s amusement. Sam knocked on the window of the passenger door, since he wouldn’t be able to easily open it while she was leaning there. That, and her ass was kind of in his face on the other side of the glass, which he didn’t want to get an eyeful of.

Sophie turned around when she heard him knocking. She opened the door, immediately grinning at the sight of him wearing the pink skirt. “Oh my God, Samantha. That skirt is so cute. You’re wearing panties, right?”

Obviously. Were the shorts and boxers in his hand not telling enough. Sure, he could have gone commando, though doing so under a skirt would have been awkward. Either way, he wasn’t about to affirm what kind of underwear he had on, when pretty much anything he said would make his sister enjoy the situation more.

Rather than pushing it, since she’d find out sooner or later, Sophie merely said, “Anyway, the rest of you isn’t as cute. Wait here. I’ll get some more of your girl clothes.” Knowing he had no intention of getting out of the car while looking mismatched between the skirt and his shoes/t-shirt that he had been wearing all day, she went back to the trunk to grab a few more items from the shopping bags back there.

“Your new shoes,” she said, tossing the sneakers with various shades of pink onto the floor by his feet, “And your very first training bra.” Assuming he’d be hesitant to touch the undergarment, Sophie simply dropped it onto his lap. “It’s okay to be a late bloomer, Samantha. In the meantime, this will get you used to having boobs.”

He cringed at how she was talking to him as if he was a tween girl like Mia. Again, it was just the two of them. There was no reason for them to pretend at the moment, save for the ‘getting into character’ thing she said earlier. As if this was anything but her amusing herself by treating him like a girl. “I’m not wearing that,” he muttered. The shoes were one thing, considering sneakers were more familiar to him than a skirt. And he had worn underwear before, so panties were tolerable at some level. But he was a boy, and had never worn a bra in his life.

Sophie just sighed. “I bet Mia isn’t this much of a brat. We bought you training bras for a reason, Sammie. You need to wear panties and a bra for this to work. Okay?”

“But-” he hesitated. First of all, he wasn’t being a brat just because he didn’t want to embarrass himself. At the same time, he could only argue so much after being reminded that the whole point of this was to convince everyone that he was a girl. Even if that meant dealing with the discomfort of a bra and letting his younger sister boss him around.

“You’ll be fine, sis,” Sophie said, dismissing his would-be complaints before he could get to them, “I get the whole tomboy thing, but a few curves will make this a lot more believable. Now, are you going to put on your bra, or not?”

Did she really have to refer to it as his bra? Still, Sam knew that she was right. All it would take was one person noticing his boy-ish features for this whole plan to unravel; the more he looked like a girl, the less closely people would be looking at him. “Fine,” he muttered, “Close the door.” The other reason he wanted to just get on with it is that he was still worried about how Sophie just hanging out by the car would draw attention to her, or both of them if someone saw him in the passenger seat.

He started by taking off his shoes, delaying the inevitable while still feeling just as awkward about the girly footwear. Slipping his foot into the small shoe that would certainly add to the immature ‘tween’ image, he tied the dark pink laces while wondering if Sophie being taller than him meant that her girls’ foot size was bigger than his as well. If so, that was yet another thing he’d probably end up being teased about when she realized.

From the waist down, he was ‘Samantha’ after putting on the second shoe. His leg hair made him a little bit nervous, though it was barely visible. Sam didn’t have much body hair in general, and being blonde made his fine wisps nearly invisible. Someone touching his leg would be able to tell, but he couldn’t imagine why anyone would do that.

Sophie was once again leaning against the closed passenger door, giving him a little privacy to deal with the more daunting task. After glancing towards the house and the area nearby, he reluctantly removed his shirt. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to put on a bra, but it was either that or deal with another round of arguing with Sophie. There wasn’t a clasp or anything, so he just slipped his arms through the straps and pulled the white cotton garment over his head.

Training bra, indeed. The stretchy material had the slightest bit of weight on the cups and, most noticeably, would make it appear as if he had two small mounds on his chest while wearing a shirt.

It only dawned on him after putting the thing on that Sophie had just given him shoes and a bra. No shirt. Sam wasn’t about to let her see him in the skirt/bra combo, so he hastily put his own shirt back on before knocking on the window like before.

His dark top wasn’t enough to hide the new curves underneath. The moment Sophie opened the car door and took in the sight of him, she giggled. “Looking good, sis! Just tell me how old you are, and I’ll get you a top to round out the outfit.”

He might have been more resistant if this hadn’t already dragged on for several minutes, on top of the embarrassing trip to the store. “I’m twelve,” he said.

“Your voice is almost as flat as your chest,” Sophie smirked, “Come on, like you mean it. Everyone’s going to know you’re a boy if you say it like that.”

If Sam were actually a girl, he might’ve been offended by a teasing/catty comment like that; no amount of ‘getting into character’ would be enough to make him feel self conscious about not having boobs. Of course, there were plenty of other things to feel self conscious about. “I’m not talking like a girl,” he said. As if the same logic Sophie had used thus far wouldn’t work just as well on that point.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Better hope nobody talks to you all weekend long. Anyway, at least tell me how old you are.”

“I’m eighteen,” he said. Wearing all the feminine clothes he had already put on was overwhelming enough; there was no need to pretend to be Mia’s age just yet. “I’ll be a girl and act younger and whatever when we go inside. Okay? Now get me a shirt or I’ll get one myself.” He was dressed, mostly, so leaving the car would probably be fine.

“Such a brat,” Sophie rolled her eyes, “You’re not eighteen, Samantha. For the rest of the weekend, you’re twelve years old. And, as your older sister, it’s my job to keep you in line. Now be a good little girl and wait right there.” To emphasize the demand, she closed the door in his face before going back to the trunk to grab a top for him to change into.

He begrudgingly did as he was told. The alternative would be getting out of the car simply for the sake of being petty and contrarian, which would give Sophie another excuse to call him a ‘brat.’ Putting aside the tween girl disguise, it was just as absurd being referred to by that term when his step-sister was actually the younger one. This was a lose/lose moment either way, since staying put made him a ‘good little girl’ per the other obnoxious way she had described him.

It didn’t take long before Sophie was back with the final piece of the simple ensemble. “Here you go, Samantha,” she said, obviously enjoying the feminine version of his name. Similar to how she dropped the training bra on his lap, she tossed him a white tank top to change into. Generally, it’s better to wear a nude bra underneath white, though that’s not something every tween knows right away. This was Sophie’s way of subtly giving credibility to the false age.

Once Sam had the same cover as before, between his sister and the closed door, he peeled off his shirt and put on the tank top. It wasn’t that different from the ones he wore in the summer, save for the fabric being a little lighter than he was not used. Not quite as dramatic as the difference between panties and briefs, but enough for him to notice.

This time, Sophie didn’t wait for a knock. After giving it twenty seconds or so, she turned around just as he was getting the top settled over the training bra. She opened the door without any warning, beaming down at him and being annoyingly enthusiastic as she ‘complimented’ his new look. “WOW. You look so cute, Sammie! Pink and white is a really good combo for blondes, by the way. Anyway, ready to head inside?”

Not really. The rearview mirror wasn’t currently angled towards him, and he hadn’t thought to check his reflection at any point throughout the arduous changing process. Part of him wanted to know how ridiculous he looked, although ignorance was arguably better. Not that he could fully ignore how he looked, when he could see plenty of himself below the neck.

He had already gone through the effort of dressing up, and letting Sophie see him like this was more embarrassing than some bridesmaid he didn’t know. Of course, he still had to suffer through Fiona and Michelle seeing him as ‘Samantha’ for the first time. Wearing the flower girl dress didn’t really count, since that was more ‘boy in dress’ than his current image with the headband and youthful, girly outfit Sophie had picked out for him.

“Grab your new clothes, Samantha,” Sophie said, in that same amused lilt he had heard countless times over the last hour, “Unless you have a boyfriend around to carry your shopping bags, that’s your responsibility.”

Not dignifying that with a response, and grateful the plastic bags from the store weren’t more feminine like a shopping trip at the mall would result in, he retrieved everything from the trunk and headed towards the house without a word.

Maybe he could find a way to sneak upstairs to delay anyone seeing him. Knowing Sophie, however, she was bound to announce their arrival in a way that would make it impossible for him to get away with that.

Hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, he quietly opened the front door.

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