Right, so I lost a lot of my work and haven’t been into writing for awhile because of it. I found out not everything was on the drive that went kaput, so I touched up the stuff I’d done on this series of vignettes and added it. I did lose the work in progress on the one I was doing as a 4-parter (the Cheerleading one in the other section) so I don’t know when/if I’ll finish it.
Here’s the original one, you sort of need it for context:
Going Twinsies - Princess Party
Probably the most unexpected event involving Kirsten and me was her little sister’s, Megan’s, seventh birthday party. I didn’t expect to be invited; I wasn’t a girl even if Megan and I were kind of friends. I treated her better than Kirsten did but I expect that Kirsten was only hard on her because of sibling rivalry. I didn’t have any siblings so I didn’t really understand how that worked. Anyway, for her birthday, Megan decided she wanted a full princess-themed party and, along with the invites she sent to half her first-grade class, she sent one to me.
I pretended to not care about it, especially since the invitation was all frilly and such. My mom chuckled when I said I’d go for Megan. Inside, however, I was touched and emotional about it. I didn’t have any siblings and getting the invite made me feel closer to the whole Weaver family.
Mom even drove me down to pick out Megan a present. I got a decent allowance, and I always kept enough saved, but mom insisted we go halves even though I could afford it (if I spent everything I currently had). I think she just thought I was too conscientious for a ten-year-old. I bought her a Bratz doll and some accessories because, although Kirsten had some, I knew Megan wanted her own. We got it wrapped at the store and, soon after, I was dropped off at Kirsten’s house, wearing slacks and a polo shirt, ready to celebrate my girlfriend’s little sister’s birthday.
What I hadn’t planned was that Kirsten and Megan would immediately usher me inside and up to Kirsten’s room.
“What’s up?” I demanded, barely having time to set my present down. I was surprised I was the first to arrive. The party was supposed to start at noon and I was only here ten minutes early.
“We don’t have a lot of time!” Kirsten said, as she shoved me into her room.
“Hurry,” Megan said, dancing behind her.
“What’s going on!” I demanded, digging my feet in.
“It’s a princess party, right?” Kirsten said. “It won’t be any fun unless you can play princess too.”
“Yeah! You gotta be a princess.” Megan agreed emphatically.
“None of Megan’s friends know about you, so if you switch into girl stuff, you can play with us.” Kirsten added while Megan agreed. “But they’re coming soon, so we gotta to do it quick.”
I heard the doorbell ringing downstairs as Megan looked back and forth from me to the door.
“I’ll fix him, Megan.” Kirsten promised as Megan turned and ran downstairs. That just left me and my girlfriend alone in her room. She was rooting through her clothing drawer.
It’s not that this hadn’t happened before. In fact, I probably should have expected it. Today I had just planned on being… mature and masculine and this caught me by surprise. I’d picked my best slacks (I only had one pair) to wear today. I sighed, resigning myself as I started pulling my polo shirt over my head.
Kirsten held out a dress in light blue satin. The tule skirt underneath pushed out the satin top in a wide arc. The pattern had crescent moons in silver with stars dancing across it. I looked at in dismay. This was the most girly thing she’d ever had me put on.
“Kirsten…” I whined.
“Come’ on, this was mine from… last year” Kirsten admitted, blushing, that she owned a princess dress unrelated to the party. She continued: “It’s Megan’s party and she invited you and everything.”
I nodded. It wouldn’t be fun for me to back out now. Besides, her little friends wouldn’t know. I’d managed to get away with it around Kirsten’s friends, surely seven-year-olds would be easier to fool.
Karen produced a pair of blue satin panties she’d said she’d gotten to go with the dress, along with blue socks with little moons on them to. I turned around so she wouldn’t see my privates as I stripped off my slacks and undies and put on the panties and socks.
Once I had the dress on, I turned around to find Kirsten had almost put on her own dress as well. She finished getting her head through the neck hole and grinned at me. Her dress was white, bone white and, honestly, a little less princessy and a little more Victorian. I think she wanted to look more grown up and it worked. I thought she was gorgeous as she tied to pink ribbon (the only hint of color on it) behind her, cinching up the dress.
She then sat me down at her dresser and applied some clip-on earrings and a star-speckled hair clip to put my short hair up a little. As always, the accessories did wonders to complete the look. She even used a little hairspray to make my haircut look more girly than it was.
I had naturally rosy cheeks so, even though Kirsten didn’t have access to make-up that day, I looked the full princess once she added a little glitter to my cheeks. I wondered how I was going to explain that to mom if it didn’t come off. It was rather embarrassing although, I reluctantly admit, it did make me feel kind of special. Next thing I knew, Kirsten had grabbed my hand and we ran down the stairs into a throng of six and seven-year-olds.
We were almost a head taller than most of the kids but it didn’t matter. The main room had been turned into a faux Camelot, along with the backyard, and girls were giggling and all wearing princess dresses. There were games setup but none of the adults had started corralling the kids yet.
I remember being uncomfortable because my manhood (well, boyhood) was not used to the satin-texture of Kirsten’s panties and that novelty had resulted in an erection. Of course, at that age, erections were just uncomfortable and I wasn’t at all sure why it got like that. I just remember being oddly concerned that, somehow, it would show through the dress even though in retrospect, with all the puffy tule, it would have been completely impossible.
So, uncomfortable from both being an incognito boy and from my erection, I red-facedly stuck close to Kirsten’s side as the activities started. There was face painting (I got a dragon on my face), kiss the prince (a variation of pin the tail on the donkey), find the slipper, and other cute little games. It definitely kept us occupied while the cake and presents were setup for the main event.
My “situation” down there made me more acutely aware of my bodily needs and, as such, I got to the bathroom quite early when I had to go. A decent departure from my normal, quick-draw bladder antics. When I came out of the bathroom the second time, everyone was being called over for cake.
I managed to get a seat next to Kirsten who was clearly having a blast. Like, the girl was super excited. Although, in all fairness, that might have been thanks to the punch.
Kirsten, I found out as we dated (well, more hung out as friends seeing as our “dating” consisted of hand-holding), had a problem with sugar. Problem might be a little understated because Kirsten got wired super easy, in juxtaposition to Megan, her little sister, who could handle sugar pretty well.
Long story short, Kirsten tended to go ape-shit when she had too much. For that reason, her mom rarely had sugar or real sweets around the house. Fruit or natural stuff was okay in moderation but the processed stuff got to her bigtime. Possibly, that’s problem why Kirsten got so old before she learned to tolerate it: sugar was never around. Of course parties come with treats and, by the time I sat down next to her, Kirsten had downed quite a few glasses of sugary punch and had packed away more pixie sticks than I could count.
She was so off-the-walls that she was acting more immature as her little sister’s friends, squealing with delight at the activities, jumping up and down about everything and hanging all over me. I liked the latter part though and, thus, declined to say anything.
“Cake, cake, I love cake!” Kirsten sang in my ear as she draped an arm around me in a half-hug, sipping at the sugary fruit punch that was in her free hand. We were seated at the big picnic bench in her backyard along with the rest of the kids. The other kids seemed pretty excited too though and, at six or seven, they don’t notice big kids acting differently too much. Megan noticed, but she thought her sister was fun like this.
Unable to sit still, Kirsten jumped up from her seat and frantically ran around the perimeter of the back yard before plopping down breathlessly next to me again and asking if I’d seen how fast she was.
“Bet you didn’t think I could run that fast in a dress, huh?” Kirsten demanded, through gasping breaths, as she practically vibrated in place by fidgeting on the bench next to me.
“That was pretty quick…” I admitted, butterflies jumping in my tummy as she hugged me.
“You gotta run with me!” She demanded, still hugging me, as she stood up and tried to pull me off the bench.
“Kirsten, relax.” Her mom said, shaking her head and trying not to laugh as she set the cake on the table in front of Megan. “It’s song time!”
Kirsten couldn’t, of course. Her whole body was bouncing with energy, and she joined the girls and the parents as everyone went into a round of “Happy Birthday.” Megan was glowing with happiness as she blew out the candles in a single go. Kirsten was looking everywhere, and was way more touchy-feely than usual. I was usually ecstatic with hand holding and now she was everywhere and, half of that time, draped on me. Kirsten sang and clapped loudly; it was fun to see her so animated, too.
That was, until sudden dread appeared on her face. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed she was sitting on her foot (a habit she had when she had to pee) but I’d just been too absorbed in her other antics. I did, however, know the look she had when she peed herself accidentally. It was an uncommon occurrence; usually she wore pull-ups if she was feeling like she wanted to wet. But, once at girl scouts (why I was there was another story) and once at school I had seen that expression. She took it pretty hard when she peed in front of people she didn’t really know; at the girl scouts she’d barely reacted but, when it happened at school, she’d almost broken down in front of everyone.
Her whole body shivered as her mom started slicing the cake just a foot away. I felt her hand grip my wrist, hard, in desperation. Then the fidgeting suddenly stopped. With all the kids, it was far too loud to hear the pattering that was probably happening on the ground beneath the bench but it was obvious from everything else that she was flooding her panties.
She was quietly hyperventilating now, as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. I think the overload of sugar coupled with the accident just broke her emotionally. It was obviously taking all her willpower not to just break into sobs. Her mom handed the first slice of cake to Megan and suddenly locked eyes with her daughter.
“Kate, can you cut the cake, I gotta go fix something real quick.” Ms. Weaver said, handing the knife to another mother.
“I’ll be back in a sec, Megan.” Ms. Weaver added to the birthday girl before motioning to Kirsten. “Can you help me?”
Kirsten nodded gratefully and I stood up next to her, covering for her by walking right behind her as we quickly headed into the house. Kirsten immediately followed her mom back inside to the empty living room. Now that we were up the damage was obvious: Kirsten’s bone-white dress was stained a pale yellow in a big circle around her bottom. She shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“I can’t believe this!” Her mother admonished, though it wasn’t that harsh. “It’s like you’re five. I told you not to drink all that punch.”
“I didn’t –mean– too.” Kirsten replied pathetically, glancing at me with a blush.
“Well, we gotta get back out there quick. Stephen, can you get me another outfit for her?” I nodded, pounding up the stairs to Kirsten’s room as fast as my legs could carry me. I grabbed the jeans and spaghetti-strap navy-blue shirt she’d been wearing when I arrived and ran back downstairs.
In the living room, the white dress was already set off to the side, a pair of yellowed panties on top of it, and Kirsten, naked except for a pull-up which Ms. Weaver was finishing helping her into, standing in the living room. Her mom finished tugging it up and I handed out the jeans just as a little girl, one of Megan’s friends, walked into the living room.
The kid stared wide-eyed at the scene before her. It took only a moment before she processed the event and ran back outside shouting “Megan’s big sister had an accident!”
Kirsten reddened again at the cries of the kid as she began to pull the shirt on. She looked at me, humiliated, as if asking me what she should do.
Immediately, I pulled off the blue satin dress and handed it to her. I thought nothing, at the time, of standing there in nothing but moon-speckled socks and blue satin panties, which I’m sure did not obscure my erection, little as it was. Looking back on it, I can remember receiving an odd look from Ms. Weaver as I handed the dress over.
Kirsten got the idea though and happily put the dress on as I put on her spaghetti strap top and jeans. Ms. Weaver helped get her head through and I tried to pull the jeans on.
Now, the satin panties were uncomfortable, but added to that the tightness of Kirsten’s jeans was unbearable. I’m sure today I’d process it as pleasurable now but, at the time, all that pressure on my boy parts was just processed as pain.
“It hurts,” I whined, involuntarily, gripping my privates. Trying to zip up the fly. Kirsten was only a smidge, if at all, smaller than me but girls jeans are cut different.
Ms. Weaver gave me the oddest look which, at the time I thought was because she was confused about boy parts but now I know for certain that she was trying to contain a body-shaking laugh. Instead, she just took a deep breath, handed me a second pull-up and told me to change into that in the bathroom. I agreed and, by the time I had done so, Kirsten was already handing me a skirt through the door that matched the top.
In just under six minutes we managed to return to the party. Some kids were muttering to themselves and glancing at Kirsten but, after Kirsten and I took our seats at the bench (after I ‘dusted’ it off for her with some party napkins), most acted as if nothing had happened.
“What happened?” Kate, an adult, asked Ms. Weaver quietly as she got back. I only knew her by what Ms. Weaver called her.
“Oh, Stephen got tired of wearing Kirsten’s dress and she wanted to wear that one instead anyway.” Ms. Weaver noted, immediately halting as she realized she’d said my name. Immediately I blushed as Ms. Weaver said my name, my eyes meeting with Kate’s. She looked over my top and skirt, appraising me.
“Stephen?” She asked. I’d been hanging with Kirsten so no one had really asked me my name yet.
“Yeah,” I choked out quietly.
“He’s Kirsten’s boyfriend,” Ms. Weaver chuckled, trying to cover for me like it was normal. “My daughter likes to dress him up.”
Kate just scrunched up her face, but I could tell when an adult was laughing at me on the inside. I took the predictable course of action: I sulked. My arms folded across my chest as I sat there, fully aware I was wearing a skirt and spaghetti-strap top.
Luckily, Kirsten was still all giddy with sugar, somehow able to forget that she’d come within inches of getting caught peeing herself in front of a bunch of six and seven-year-olds. Now she laid onto me, giving me a hug, and instantly I just didn’t care so much about her wanting to dress me up. I mean, she was my girlfriend and I still felt butterflies when she hugged me or held my hand even though we’d been dating for months.
“Hey, you know what?” Kirsten asked her knees bouncing up and down as she took large bites of cake. Her face was still a little red from the little bout of tears before she got changed.
Suddenly, there was a tap on Kirsten’s shoulder and she turned to see the little girl that had walked in on us about five minutes ago, along with another flanking her. They stared at Kirsten in wonder.
“Did you really pee your panties?” The second girl asked. Her tone was a combination of disgust, awe, and morbid curiosity.
“I told you, I saw it!” The first girl demanded, turning to Kirsten. “Tell her.”
“But she’s a big girl,” The second girl continued, still having trouble processing it.
Kirsten was now in a conundrum. She was full up on sugar, she didn’t like lying, and anyone’s guess would have been as good as mine to her next move.
“She didn’t!” Megan answered for her to her friends, cutting Kirsten off. Kirsten just shrugged and went back to her cake. I had forgotten that Megan had more to preserve socially that her big sister. After all, having a big sister who wet her pants wasn’t going to help Megan’s popularity. And, now that I think about it, while they went to a different part of school, some of those kids might have known kids or had siblings in our class. Regardless, the others decided not to fight the birthday girl and, thus, Kirsten got away scot free.
By the time the party wound down, Kirsten had been bouncing off the walls for an hour and was pretty much ready to collapse. She insisted I carry her around, which I was glad to oblige, giving my princess piggy back rides around the backyard and the house, just loving the feeling of her laying against me. The other kids had all left and Megan came over to play with us now that all her friends were gone.
“Hey!” Megan said, coming into the playroom where I was giving Kirsten a pony ride. She spurred me on with her legs and giggling as I did laps around the playroom. Frankly, I was getting pretty tired but from the few experiences with sugar, I was trying to keep my girlfriend happy. She got weird, especially in the come-down.
“Faster, faster!” Kirsten demanded as I stopped. I was out of breath.
“I’m too tired.” I said, dropping her off on the couch before flopping down next to her.
“Nooo!” Kirsten whined, moving her arms and legs on the couch like a toddler having a tantrum. Ms. Weaver came into the room in time to see her eldest’s display.
“You, young lady, have been a absolute terror all day.” She said to Kirsten. “Did you wet yourself again?”
“No.” Kirsten said petulantly, folding her arms.
“So, if I check, you’ll be dry?” Ms. Weaver asked.
“Yes…” Kirsten agreed, yet more hesitantly.
“And, if you’re not dry, you should probably go take a nap to even out and let that sugar out of your system and I can take Stephen home.” Ms. Weaver continued. Realization dawned on Kirsten.
“Nooo!” Kirsten cried, jumping up. “I’m not tired. You said Stephen could stay all day!”
“I just said if you were wet; you’re dry right?” Ms. Weaver continued calmly; it was patently obvious to all of us at this point that Kirsten wasn’t. Megan and I had given her some space as both of us could sense that breakdown was imminent.
“Yeah…” Kirsten stammered.
“Okay.” Ms. Weaver agreed. “Come here so I can check.”
“No. I’m not a baby!” Kirsten screamed, the sound of her high-pitched angry voice piercing the room.
“Do not yell. And I didn’t say you were a baby.” Ms. Weaver said in an iron-cold voice. “Come here and let me check your diaper.”
“NOO!” Kirsten yelled.
“NOW.” Ms. Weaver shot back with force. Kirsten face bawled into a red, wrinkled fold of impotent rage. She hiked up that blue princess dress, ripped the side of the pull-up and, in one quick motion, threw the sodden mass into the center of the room, where it thudded to the floor. Silence pervaded the room for just a moment.
“I peed like a stupid baby, okay?” Kirsten challenged her mother. “Okay! Let Stephen stay!”
“Honey. You’re exhausted.” Ms. Weaver replied, exasperated. “You’re throwing a tantrum in front of your boyfriend. Look at this.”
Kirsten looked at the soaked pull-up on the floor, then at me, then at Megan. Then she began bawling. Tears streamed down her face as she realized how completely she was humiliating herself. I’d actually been wondering if she was going to flip out, she’d seemed on edge since she first wet her dress.
“Stephen, I’m just going to go put Kirsten to bed, then I’m going to take you home, okay?” Ms. Weaver asked. I nodded calmly, not knowing what to do to comfort Kirsten.
Ms. Weaver led Kirsten upstairs while Megan and I played quietly in the play room. Just ponies or something. It was subdued, both of us were worried about Kirsten. Ten minutes later Ms. Weaver was back with my undies, polo shirt, and slacks, and I changed back into them (from a dry pull-up, I just hadn’t felt like using it) and Ms. Weaver, me, and Megan got into the car and drove back to my place listening to Disney tunes.
“Ms. Weaver, ask Kirsten if I can come over to play next week and tell her I hope she feels better.” I said as we pulled up in front of my house.
“I sure will Stephen; I’m sure she’ll be fine. I should’ve made sure to limit her sugar but, at ten, I keep thinking she’ll be able to handle it herself next time…”
“Thanks for inviting me Megan, I had a good time!” I added.
“Thanks for the Bratz, Stephen!” Megan said, “I’m glad your Kirsten’s boyfriend.”
I jumped out of the minivan and headed inside. On Monday at school Kirsten showed up and I acted like the whole thing hadn’t happened. Other than a blush and a muttered apology she never spoke of it either. Frankly, I thought the whole thing was super-cute, not everyone got to see their girlfriend have a tantrum like a two-year-old but she’d have been even more humiliated if I’d told her that.
I found out later that she’d ended up staining her nice, white dress too; it ended up only being worn for play-stuff after that. She was a little bummed about it but, when her mom got her a new one, she just made a point of always wearing a pull-up under it.