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Desmond Darnley has finished his education. He left Wanchester College just yesterday and now he will embark on a career in the postal service. Or that is what he has in mind. What his mother has in mind is quite different, as he might have suspected from recent developments at home. The spare bedroom has seen lots of shopping arriving and is kept under lock and key, while his mother is forever on the phone to Grandma Nylon as she goes through fashion websites on her i-pad with worrying excitement. Perhaps the most worrying thing of all for Desmond is the latest change to their lives: now that he has left college, Grandma has sold her apartment and is coming to live with them. For other families that might be a nice thing. After all Grandma is young and she loves Desmond even though she can be strict, but what frightens him a little is the way she likes insisting that he wears some of her things when he goes to visit. What Desmond is afraid of is that she might start insisting again now that she is coming to stay with her daughter and grandson.
"I've brought you into Mommy's bedroom for today's very special dressing," says Pauline, laying the last of Desmond's clothing across the end of the bed. "I want you to wear some of Mummy's lingerie today as we talk about Grandma coming to live with us. Slip your hands through here my darling, there's my little angel."
Desmond cringes with embarrassment in front of his mother in her short night-dress. She turns him round and hooks together the back of her brassiere between his shoulder blades, then opens the top of each cup and inserts one, two, three, four pairs of her folded silky panties to give the poor boy two pouting breasts in snow white satin and nylon cups.
"We've been getting ready for this day for two weeks now, haven't we, precious? Trying pairs of my panties to see how nicely they protect your sex, then trying on Mummy's stockings held up with suspender belts, and Mummy's bras too. I've been very pleased to see how receptive your penis is, sweetheart."
Desmond couldn't catch a gasp before it escaped. "But I've been so ashamed, Mama: ashamed to be dressed in ladies' lingerie, and especially ashamed to be wearing - my own Mommy's p-panties - they are so personal!"
Pauline has a suspender belt open and ready for him as he turns his back for her to hook it all the way down with three rows of hooks, six hooks in each row. The suspenders dangle softly on his smooth thighs, two on each leg. "Darling tell me what you mean when you say Mommy's panties are so personal."
Desmond's hands clutch his mouth in an effort to hide his blushes. He manages to find his words. "I mean the middle part of your panties, Mama - between the legs - "
"You mean the gusset, pet."
"The gusset - it's so close to - " He knows his face is turning beetroot as Mummy looks into his eyes. She giggles a little.
"You mean the gusset of Mummy's panties rests in intimate contact with my ladies' parts. Here, give me your hand, darling." She takes his hand and leads it down the front of her nightdress, then underneath, to find the pyjama panty at the tops of her legs. then she draws little lines and circles over her personal parts with his fingertips through the nylon, smoothing, probing, then slightly and softly inserting his finger and some panty about half an inch or so, as her breathing becomes difficult to control. Their pulses are racing together. "Yes my darling," she says: "that is why Mommy wants her little darling to wear her panties, especially today, because Grandma will be here in just a few minutes."
She sits in her chair and plants him on her knee to roll her stockings up his legs. As Mama pulls the suspenders down and clips them tightly to his stockings, Desmond moans with unavoidable pleasure and clasps a spread of fingers over his lips in an effort to hide it.
"That's right dear," says his mother: "show your feelings. Grandma will look forward to that."
"But I will feel so ashamed."
"It's not something to be ashamed about darling - it's a wonderful thing to be girly. It's so important to show Grandma how feminine you can feel." She dresses him in a pair of her pink panties. He shivers as the cold satin slides over his stockings and cups his testicles and penis in its gusset, with white floral lace spreading prettily on either side across the tops of his legs.
"Grandma tells me she has dressed you in her panties," says Pauline, turning him on his feet as she remains sitting beside her opened panty drawer.
Desmond almost cries out with alarm. Surely Grandma hasn't revealed such a secret thing to Mama. He finds himself admitting to it. "Er y-yes, mama."
"And I believe she has also dressed you in her bra, and her knee-length full-slip."
"Y-Yes, Mama." His cheeks burn with guilt. He keeps very quiet about the day she dressed him in one of her high waist girdles with stockings clipped to six wide white suspenders. That was the awful day Grandma put him into her pink quilted nylon housecoat and one of her frilly aprons for helping her sort out the drawers of her closet - his penis had never ached so much in her apartment. It's so worrying that these dressing occasions are becoming more and more frequent: every time he goes to Grandma's house. His mother brings him back to the present.
"Now it's time for another pair of mummy's panties, darling," she says, and in her hands she opens a pair of pale blue floral panties with deep white lace all round each leg. They are so silky, so feminine - and Mama has him stepping into them so that he will wear them over the pink panties he is already wearing.
It reminds him of that day last week when Grandma put him into two of her pairs of panties, and her long line bra, and then had him sitting opposite her armchair wearing one of her silky nylon full-slips so that the lacy hem was below his knees. She looked at him in that strict way she has, her back arched, her nose held high, and a sort of smile on her thin red lips. She was so satisfied with him that day that she went on to have him wearing one of her blouses - in salmon pink satin with a waterfall ruffle all down the front, and one of her narrow skirts which she zipped up over his bottom. It reached almost to his ankles and had a sizzling lining inside, which would keep sliding and hissing on his under slip as she had him walking backwards and forwards in front of her, until - oh the shame still burns into his heart - he had a disgraceful accident into the gusset of her panties, into her slip, and even into her skirt.
Grandma was incandescent as she slid off his skirt, saw the state of the front of the slip and the still erected condition of his mortified penis. She spread her crisp lemon nylon apron across her pleated skirt and made Desmond stretch himself across it for her to peel up his slip and draw his panties down, then she spanked his bottom with her bare hand. To teach him self control he had to do fifteen minutes of corner time in a different petticoat and skirt: repeating: "I must show full respect to ladies' clothes when I am wearing them."
Back in Mummy's bedroom Desmond's second panties are followed by a third, in finest white silk-satin, gripping his legs in ruched elastic cuffs. As he is fitted with his third pair of panties, the doorbell rings and Mummy goes to admit her mother, leaving her wretched son to be seen wearing his mother's lingerie as his Grandma walks in.
"Very good, my dear, very good," she says, sitting where she has a good view of her grandson and taking off her hat and kid gloves. "I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to living with my new grand-daughter."
The tears well in Desmond's eyes and one leg slides with embarrassment across the other. "I know you have some lovely plans to initiate your 'grand-daughter', mother," says Pauline. "I think you mentioned body and facial treatments."
"And hair styling and beauty care, and of course some most enjoyable shopping trips." She looks very strictly at Desmond as she says: "We shall be buying personal lingerie for myself and mummy, so that my little girl can wear our lingerie and be all the more feminine as a result."
"I think you said Desmond can have your surname too, Grandma?"
"Yes indeed my pet," says Grandma, brightening as she looks up at Desmond: "you will change from Desmond Darnley to Daisy Nylon, my dear. Won't that be nice?"
It's all too much for Desmond; three very pretty pairs of panties are playing on his genitals, Mummy's face is so serious, Grandma's too, and his weakened penis can hold his arousal no longer as he spends his shame into the tightened gusset of all three pairs of his mummy's intimate panties.
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