Who Is Lucas Ryker O'Riley?

33. LUCKY

Waking, for the first time, to the luxuriously soft cooling sensation of silk, I found myself pleasantly stretching like a house cat after sleeping all night on its favorite pillow.

I awoke with a wide satiated grin on my face.

When I first found out that we were moving to Texas, I had anticipated a depressing, long and boring summer once we got here. So far, it's been, well, unlike anything I could have ever imagined, but it's alright. I'm glad it's turning out the way it is.

Okay, better than alright when you consider my transition to living as a girl. It's only been two days and I can't even begin to imagine what's still waiting around the corner.

Can't wait to find out, either.

I slipped on a pair of silk pajama bottoms and an open pajama top that matched the camisole, then plodded down the stairs around a quarter 'till nine to find mom carrying an arm load of clothes towards the laundry room.

"Good morning, sleepy head. Get you something to eat. There's cantaloupe cut up in a bowl in the fridge, if you'd like. When you're done, get dressed so we can go shopping."

Once mom had started the washer she went to change and get ready for our shopping trip. I continued to eat slices of salted cantaloupe for a few more minutes before heading to get dressed myself.

Standing in front of my closet, I began to understand women a little better. As a guy, I would have just grabbed the first tee shirt I laid eyes on and the pair of jeans lying on the floor from the night before, but now I found myself picturing myself in each outfit I considered and trying to decide if that's how I wanted to present myself in public today.

I ended up choosing one of my new, girly, fitted tee-shirts that would emphasize my breast and a pair of dressy looking, mid-thigh length shorts with turned up cuffs at the bottom.

After putting on my outfit, I modeled it in the mirror and discovered I could see my red bra through the shirt. Not only did I not like the idea of showing off my bra through my shirt, I knew Mom wouldn't approve either, so I removed the top and found a different bra that wouldn't show through the shirt.

I slipped the shirt back on and a thought occurred to me. My panties were red and matched the first bra, but now my bra was pale pink, the same color as my shirt.

Without another thought I exhaled and stripped off my shorts. I didn't even know where the idea came from, I just knew I needed to change my panties to the pair that matched the bra I now had on.

But why? I asked myself. It's not like anyone, other than maybe Mom in the dressing room, will ever know the difference.

I then shrugged as I retrieved the panties from the drawer and replied, I gotta do it. I won't feel right until I do.

Once I had my shorts back on and my belt fastened, I laced my sandals up my newly shaved legs, brushed my hair back, and once I had it secured with one of Mom's hair ties, I took a moment to admire myself in the mirror.

After changing out my hair tie three times, trying to find the color that looked right with my outfit, I was finally satisfied and ready to go.

I walked into my parents room to see if Mom was ready and found her at her dressing table, doing her makeup.

"Want some," she asked holding up a mascara wand.

"Sure?" I replied, hesitantly accepting her offer.

She sat me down in the chair and did more than just apply mascara. She brushed a small amount of powder on my cheeks, another shade of powder on my nose, and a little pink powder on my eyelids, just a hint.

I watched in the mirror as an even prettier girl began to appear.

Mom was about half done with my face when I asked, "Can we get me my own makeup today? I need to learn to to do this myself before school starts."

Mom paused and looked at me.  After a moment a smile formed on her face and she replied, "Well yeah, I guess. Sure, why not, lets do that, sweetie. Your dad's just gonna have to get used to it."

She then applied a clear gloss to my lips and had me blot them on a tissue.

Once Mom was done, I looked prettier than I did when we went to the neighbors house. I still was not wearing enough makeup for it to be very noticeable, yet there was a definite feminine softness to my face that wasn't there before she began.

She then gave me the same three-bracelet set to wear again and we were off.

This time, instead of the regular mall, Mom took me to an outlet mall that sold high-end brand name clothing at discount prices.

Mom made a beeline for the first store and began pulling items off the rack like a woman on a mission. She then pointed me in the direction of the dressing rooms and that began my day of trying on more clothes than I'd ever even owned in my entire life as a boy.

By the time Mom suggested we get some lunch, we had been in three stores and had purchased four pair of jeans (each pair very different from the others), several blouses, button up shirts, and tees, found a good deal on everyday bra/panty sets, which mom said I could never have too many of, and I had tried on fifty or more, different dresses. I'm not exaggerating, Mom was a woman obsessed.

Most all the dresses I had tried were nice, very nice, the kind of dresses I had always loved seeing other girls wear, it's just that I couldn't wrap my head around actually spending entire days wearing any of them. The thought of wearing a dress still made me uncomfortable and I wouldn't agree to Mom buying any of them.

I know what she'd already bought and I still don't know when I'll be ready for dresses and skirts.

After stopping in a sandwich shop for lunch, Mom suggested we find a store where we could get my ears pierced, if I hadn't already chickened out.

She knew the right words to say. If I had been having second thoughts, my mind was made up now.

You see, chicken was something you didn't call Dave or I, ever. Anytime one of us wanted to con the other into doing something, that's the word we used and it worked. Mom knew this all too well.

"No, Mom, I haven't chickened out. Let's go."

We continued to walk down the corridor until I realized Mom was no longer next to me. I looked around and found Mom heading into a store that sold everything you could ever want or need for bedrooms and bathrooms and more, everything except actual furniture, toilets, sinks, and tubs.

I followed her in and we weren't in there long before I spotted a comforter and sheet set I just had to have.

"Mom, I need this. It's perfect."

Just as I told her, it really was perfect. It was the same set as what I already owned except instead of a huge Dallas Cowboy Star surrounded by dark blue and black, the star was surrounded by Dallas Cowboy dark blue and bold, hot pink.

I may have been raised in California from birth until a few days ago, but I had always been a Dallas Cowboys fan.

"Mom, my room currently screams masculine. What if someone else sees it and starts asking questions," I explained, feeling a need to defend my decision. "Besides, this is representative of who I am, wouldn't you agree?"

"Sweetheart, you o