Thankful For The Boys

 I know I post on Fridays, but I wanted to post another Thanksgiving-themed caption today. So this is also my Friday post. See y'all in December :)

Roommate's Thanksgiving

 

Old Memories

Harlan parked his car outside his childhood home, shutting off the engine, staring at the warmly lit house. The exterior hadn’t changed in a year since his time away at college, and both a sense of familiarity and pity filled his chest. Familiarity with a sight he’d grown up seeing for 18 years, and pity that accompanied his parents' inability to evolve or change. They remained stuck in the past, not bothering to change anything; they were too stuck in their ways. His father said they’d change the exterior siding when he was away, and by his next visit, it would be a different color, but like most ideas, it remained only an idea. 

Harlan grabbed his bags from the trunk, pulling his sweater hood up to cover his ears. The temperature had dropped sharply since the sun went down, and Harlan failed to dress according to his situation. It didn’t matter as he searched towards the doors and rang the doorbell. The clinging and clanging of pans and pots being put away ceased before a hurried figure made its way to the door. Wiping their hands on themselves, they opened the door. His mother smiled, opening her arms for a hug, which Harlan reciprocated. 

“It’s nice to see you, honey,” she said as they unembraced. “Your father is out getting some things for Thanksgiving. Take your stuff upstairs and get settled in. He should be back shortly.” 

Halan walked up the stairs as his mother closed the door and returned to her task. The familiar creeks accompanied the photographs on the wall of their family. Even a few solo pictures of Harlan and his sister, who would be coming back tomorrow from college. He walked down the narrow hallway past the shared bathroom, his sister's room, and finally his room. Harlan opened the door, and a whiff of musty, stagnant air hit him. His room was just as he had left it a year ago. It was oddly calming walking in, seeing everything as it was, nothing moved or touched since he’d last touched it. 

Harlan dropped his bags on the bed and went to change. He closed the door as he rifled through old drawers of clothing for something to sleep in. He found some old gym shorts and put on a tee. Before he left, he truly wanted to know if everything had been left alone. He walked over to his TV, which sat on a broken dresser. He opened the middle drawer and pushed some boxers to the side. Buried in the corner were a pair of PINK panties, balled up and shoved with other panties. They looked untouched. 

Visions of his mother discovering his panty stash came to mind. She’d be looking for something, and where would someone guilty of a crime hide evidence? Their underwear drawers. She’d be going through it and see various panties in various styles in the corner. More than what a boy should have, especially a boy who hadn’t had a girlfriend yet, should. He imagined her shock when she would discover it, growing confused, then concerned over the drawer's contents. Luckily, they’d remained untouched until now. 

Harlan grabbed a pair and took them out, letting the fabric unball itself into a purple fabric, and a bikini style. He remembered this pair; it was the first he’d ever try on. In high school, Harlan knew he wasn’t like other kids. He was obsessed with panties. It started young when he saw a panty slip on a YouTube video, and to this mind, this was golf. He’d never seen something so intimate, so forbidden as a child. He began seeking out other forms of media that had panties but not adult content. He eventually found a blog of feminized men, men who would be in varying scenarios where they’d be forced to cross-dress. 

Harlan is a straight man; he has no desire to be with a man, but those stories brought him hours of fun and pleasure. Sometimes during school, he’d think of various situations like the captions he’d read. That helped with his panty obsession from desperately looking around for any classmate panty slips. Eventually, the reading didn’t bring the same satisfaction as it once did, so he decided to elevate it; touch some panties. 

His sister had extracurriculars, so when Harlan was alone, he snuck into her room. He knew his sister wasn’t neat but knew if anything was out of line, she’d know. He opened drawer after drawer before finding her panty drawer. Dozens of panties lay in there from varying styles, colors, and manufacturers. Harlan’s heart throbbed in his chest as he carefully pushed pairs to the side, enjoying the feeling of the various fabrics running between his hands. The smooth, enchanting feeling of lace. The soft, cool feel of cotton. The cold, sleek feel of satin, he was in heaven. He went towards the bottom, figuring if he took anything off the top, he’d be discovered. From the pit of his sister’s panty drawer, he withdrew a deep purple cotton bikini. He was mesmerized by the look, the feel, and the rush of excitement to try it on. Harlan figured that since it was at the bottom, it must be a pair she didn’t wear often, so if he tried it on, then she wouldn’t know. 

Harlan scurried to the connected shared bathroom and dropped his pants. His heart was still beating rapidly, and he slid the pair up his leg, the smooth cotton rubbing up his legs as they lifted into place. He adjusted his crotch in the tight-fitting panties, admiring himself in the bathroom mirror. The cotton felt weird; they weren’t the same as the rough interior of his boxer briefs. They were soft, but firm. He felt everything contained and secure. They felt better than his male underwear. Harlan slipped on his shorts over the panties, secretly wearing them for the rest of the night. That became his nightly pair to wear, going as far as to do his own laundry so no one would know. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. 

Harlan smiled, putting the pair back and going to his closet. Buried in the back was a container, and when it was opened, it contained various articles of women’s clothing. He’d secretly bought them from various vendors, and when he was home alone, he’d put them on. He’d spend hours trying on various outfits and admiring himself in the mirror. He’d imagine he was a girl, and how a girl would react to what he was wearing. It oddly gave him confidence, and he felt sexy wearing women’s clothing, even if a slight sense of disgust was lingering in the background, with worry that this would balloon into something more. 

Harlan managed to find some bits of clothing his sister didn’t wear frequently that still fit him. He’d spend time on those weekdays alone trying on her clothes, and he liked the way it felt and looked. Crossdressing gave him confidence he’d carry forward, but it also gave him thrills beyond his wildest comprehension. The rush to go against societal views, mixed with the risk of being caught in an intimate and vulnerable position, made these cross-dressing adventures highly pleasurable. He felt guilty for loving this so much, even guiltier hiding this from his current girlfriend. He didn’t know how she’d react if she found out, but Harlan could only guess and not accept. 

He took off his shorts and put the purple panties into his hand. Harlan’s heartbeat was rapid as he did what he knew would happen. He slipped the pair up his leg, getting the same rush from all those times before. The smooth cotton dragged up his leg and into place, the same crotch adjustment to make sure everything fit properly. He admired himself in the mirror again, the feeling of déjà vu. Harlan felt bliss looking at himself in the mirror, wearing the panties, as he slid up his shorts to cover them. 

His phone vibrated, and a message notification from his girlfriend appeared. 

“How’s it going?”

“Good, reliving old memories.” Harlan texted back, sitting on the bed. He knew his grandparents would be at dinner later this week, and they always gave $20 to him and his sister. The sudden nostalgia, and maybe a bit of blood loss to the head, made Harlan wonder if he could pick up some pairs for college? To wear when he is alone or sleeping at night. While waiting for his girlfriend to reply, Harlan jumped from website to website for Black Friday deals on panties. Could we go in and get them this week? 

“Awe, that’s nice,” she wrote back. “Any cute stories?” 

Harlan didn’t know how to reply. They’d only been dating for six months, and she was unable to go to Thanksgiving with him this year. She hadn’t met the family yet. He didn’t know how to reply, so he decided to test the water on his new, resurged obsession. 

Harlan wrote about a story when he was younger, his mother washed their clothes together and misplaced his sister’s pants in his pile. So, he confidently went downstairs wearing them, to the surprise of his parents and the giggling of his sister. While the story is partially true, he did borrow a pair of her pants; no one else was home, but the mailman who Harlan opened the door did get a little giggle out of him wearing bright pink pants, so it was partially true. Not really, but the vision of a young, innocent Harlan doing this seemed cute. 

“That is funny,” she texted back. “Wish I could have been there to see it.” 

“Maybe one day you’ll be able to,” Harlan thought. Being home made him excited, and part of him wanted to crossdress again secretly. It would be harder with the family around, but currently, it’s only him and his family around. Unless it was right now. 

Harlan quietly opened the door and sneaked down the hall to his sister’s room. Her car wasn’t in the driveway yet, so she’s not home yet. Opening the door gave the same odor as his, with the stagnant and musty air. He knew his sister, over the years, had been very deliberate with her placement of stuff and would know if things were moved. But she might chalk up minor misplacements to their mother cleaning. Being in her room for years, he knew exactly where her discarded clothes were. In the corner of her closet.

Harlan opened the doors quietly, seeing various hanging dresses and tops. In the corner, in a depressing garbage bag, there were various tops, bottoms, and dresses. Harlan, feeling the rush of adrenaline, grabbed an orange dress from the bag and closed the closet door. He couldn’t wait anymore, trying to throw on the dress as quickly as possible, but becoming entangled in it. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted the straps, put them properly into place, and pushed them down. 

Harlan admired himself in the mirror, striking various poses to see himself from different angles. He smiled at what he saw, reliving those glorious memories, one more time. He imagined someone seeing him wearing those purple panties with the orange dress and snickering about the absurdity of color choices. The fleeting thought of a boy seeing him wearing that, all with female anatomy, made him blush at how confused the boy may be. Or even how turned on he’d be at the sight of a feminized Harlan wearing purple panties and an orange dress. 

The sudden sound of a cheerful voice downstairs and the hurried sounds of footsteps calling after him broke Harlan from his fantasy. 

“Harlan, are you up there?” as the sound of heavy footsteps climbed up the stairs. What to do now?

Thanksgiving Dinner With A Friend - Story

A bronze amulet sat intertwined in Giuseppe’s fingers, dangling as he stared at the shimmering bronze. Apparently, this amulet had the power to swap genders of the user, and while the thought of becoming a girl excited Giuseppe, the idea of erasing who you still lingered—wearing the amulet became a moral choice, as Rowan stared at him, mouth cupped by his hands in anticipation for Giuseppe’s decision.

“It’s up to you,” Rowan said through cupped hands. “I don’t want to force your hand, but this is a very square deal.”

Giuseppe knew this was a square deal, even if one side slightly benefited more. It would be as fair as you could get; maybe it was a rectangle deal. Giuseppe looked down at the amulet, which now swung from his nervous shaking; a decision of this magnitude shouldn’t illicit shaking, but it did. Giuseppe, who hadn’t experienced a family thanksgiving in years after being disowned by his family for choosing a college degree they felt didn’t suit him, now wondered if submitting to a request of another was right. His family requested he do the degree, and he failed to submit, which led to disownment and a lack of familiar support. But, if he submits to Rowan, would that taint his moral stance on being independent and unwavering to outside influences? The loophole created centers around what if Giuseppe wanted to wear the amulet and transform prior to Rowan's influence. Would that be a violation of internal morals? Giuseppe shook his head, fearing he truly was spending too much time thinking about this problem. Your life is already written by an author who controls your every action and the gut, a sense no one can truly explain. Sometimes, it is that nudge to continue the story, and right now, his gut is telling him to do it.

“What’s the line?” Giuseppe asked. “Like intimate actions.”

Rowan looked surprised by this question, confused but embarrassed it became the topic. “Draw the line at hand holding, with maybe one kiss on the cheek. To, you know, show that we’re still together.”

“One kiss, cheek only,” Giuseppe replied firmly. “If you try anything else, the amulet comes off, and your family will know the twisted lie you’ve been telling them.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. “I doubt we’ll have a lot of time to be a couple anyway. Mom has been talking about you in the kitchen helping with the other ladies for weeks.” A nervous expression fell over Giuseppe’s face; he didn’t know how to cook well, and he’d probably burn water. “And they know you’re not a good cooker, don’t worry.”

“What am I wearing?” Giuseppe asked, curious about what Rowan had up his sleeve.

“I have some of Sara’s clothing from before we broke up. She hated me so much, and she said I could keep the clothes because she didn’t want to see me again, so I have everything from daily wear to intimate wear.” Giuseppe’s eyebrow cocked up in surprise. “Yes, I have her intimates still. In a drawer with the rest of her stuff, and no, it hasn’t been opened since we broke up.”

“Fine, give me the clothing, and I’ll change,” Giuseppe agreed, not wanting to dwell on the thought of Rowan using any of the clothing. “How does this amulet work?”

“Simple. You’ll put it on, and as long as the amulet remains around your neck, you’ll be transformed into a girl. The whole ten yards.”

Giuseppe looked at the amulet, then back at Rowan's hopeful and thankful face. “This year would be different,” Giuseppe thought. “This year, I’ll be accepted and among people who love me, or at least love the person I’m pretending to be.”

The clothes were given to Giuseppe, who, after cocking another eyebrow, got a mildly irritated assurance Rowan had never worn the clothing. Locking the door behind him, Giuseppe stripped and, with solid eye contact with the mirror, opened the hook on the necklace and locked it together once around his neck. At first, nothing changed, but closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Giuseppe was surprised to see a woman standing where he once was. In fact, he was now physically a woman—dirty blonde hair poofed from his head, with noticeably big breasts accompanying his new transformation. A knock at the door snapped Giuseppe’s amazement away as the sound of Rowan’s voice filled the room. “All good?”

Nervously, Giuseppe spoke, “Yes.” A feminine voice emitted from his vocal cords, not the frail, unconfident sound his male voice emitted. Rowan screamed yes while finishing by telling Sara, who was the name Giuseppe would be using this evening, to hurry up. Giuseppe looked back at the mirror, the moral question coming into mind. Was this morally correct? He couldn’t offer any substantial counterpoint beyond whether it was ethical for a family to disown a child they’d raised because of his degree choice. If that, in the eyes of some, was within their right to do, then surely wearing a magical amulet and pretending to be Rowan's girlfriend would not be morally incorrect. Or perhaps both are, but Giuseppe didn’t bother trying to figure this out as he slid on the panties and tried to hook the bra on properly. He was now responsible for being Rowan's girlfriend and fulfilling the task at hand.

-          -

The drive north was filled with getting Giuseppe up to date with family affairs and the scope of their relationship. Whether it be when they started dating, when Sara first met the family, or the secret names they had for each other, the two-hour trip covered it all. To Giuseppe, it felt more like an examination preparation for school than a relaxing Thanksgiving dinner. Still, he could tell Rowan was panicked about this new interaction, so he went along with attempting to memorize the small details. Giuseppe learned of the uncle’s second marriage, the aunt's new child, the brother's recent promotion, and the parent's soon-to-be retirement. There were smaller pieces in between, but Giuseppe, being the beautiful blonde he was, could surely play dumb if needed.

While Rowan drowned on about other smaller, unimportant behaviors, Giuseppe stared out the window at the endless farmland, which turned a mute brown colour with the accompanying autumn filter. Everything seemed duller out, maybe it was because of the darker shade of the leaves or the lack of vibrant nature colours, but the season seemed to have its filter applied. It was truly beautiful, despite the perceived negative thoughts, and Giuseppe got lost watching the environment around him, pressing his head against the cold glass.

In one sense, Giuseppe missed his family’s Thanksgiving, as discombobulated as it could be, but maybe this would become a new chapter in his life. Giuseppe didn’t know the full extent of the amulet's powers, nor whether the sudden feeling of living his life as a girl was a result of animosity and hatred towards his genetic family was a result of a desire to belong, but the thought filled his pretty little head. He hadn’t fully met Rowan’s family, but still, the potential of a warm and loving family, as described, filled Giuseppe with hope, joy, and love. Before long, Rowan pulled into his neighborhood with a sprawling front yard and a traditional New England house sitting on top of the hill.

Rowan turned the car off, placing his hand on Giuseppe’s exposed thigh. “You’ve got this babe?”

While Giuseppe may be filled with these positive and warm emotions, he still knew deep down he was a guy and surely didn’t want to interfere with the actions between the two friends. Aggressively, he removed Rowan's hand. “Holding hands and one kiss on the cheek.”

Rowan laughed. “There’s the Sara I don’t miss.” Opening the door allowed the cool autumn wind to grab at Giuseppe’s exposed legs, which caused goosebumps to form. He took a deep breath, his lungs being filled with the cool air, which slowed his rapidly beating heart. Rowan grabbed Guiseppe’s hand and guided the stunned girlfriend up the walkway to the warm house. From outside, Giuseppe could hear the clinging and clanging of the food preparations inside, accompanied by the smell and warmth of Thanksgiving food. Before Rowan could knock on the door, it swung open, and a shorter woman with brown hair opened her arms and hugged Rowan, then Giuseppe.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, grabbing Giuseppe’s arm and dragging him inside. “I can see my son hasn’t learned punctuality in college. I need you to help with the mashed potatoes, dear.”

Rowan threw his hand up as a wave before shaking a heavier family member’s hand as Giuseppe disappeared into the kitchen. Inside were four other women, varying all in age, but still Giuseppe was the youngest.

“Sara, it’s so nice to see you!” the other young woman greeted, taking a moment to hug Giuseppe. The quick embrace filled Giuseppe's heart with love and warmth, unseen and unfelt in years. “I hope I didn’t get anything on your white shirt; I’m afraid I’ve been on cranberry duty. Assuming I haven’t, I love the outfit!” The other women, who Giuseppe figured out were the two aunts and the grandmother, all waved and greeted Giuseppe. Idle talk filled the woman who gossiped about family drama, complained about the men in their life (Giuseppe did partake in this discussion), and general holiday talk while he skinned potatoes.

“School must almost be done for you,” Rowan’s mother commented. Giuseppe nodded.

“Soon, only one more semester,” Giuseppe acknowledged, remembering Sara and he had the same graduation year. “Then it’s off to the workforce in some capacity.”

The women nodded. “Have you and Rowan talked about moving back up here?”

Giuseppe froze. This wasn’t something they had discussed. “Briefly,” he lied. “It comes down to where we’re at at the moment. I still have a little bit of time to think about it all.”

The mother nodded. “Well, I hope you two come back up this way. We’d love to see you more often around the house.”

The topic of post-graduation came to a complete halt when the doorbell rang, and a male voice answered with, “You should know to come on in Sara; you’re practically family.” Giuseppe froze mid-slice, making eye contact with Rowan’s sister, who wore a confused look on her face.

“I know, Uncle Hector, I just didn’t want to be rude. I also brought pie; I hope she won’t be too upset.” Turning to his right, Giuseppe made eye contact with the real Sara, who looked back at Giuseppe, her jaw dropping to the ground. “Who are you?”

Thanksgiving Dinner With A Friend

 

You’ve Changed So Much