Charlotte's Niece
by Pamela
Chapter 18
I continued skipping around the room looking back at Linda. I nearly collided with Sandy and finally stopped and stood still gazing at Linda from across the room. I walked slowly toward her while she steadily eyed me. The music stopped and the other girls glided to a halt and Mrs. Williamson dismissed us. The girls raced to the door chattering loudly. I wondered if I'd ever be able to find my clothes again after the storm of girls hit the dressing room. I nervously fiddled with the skirt of my tutu, first pushing the stiff fabric down, then grabbing it and pulling it up.
"Aren't you precious, Greg. Such a pretty tutu!" Linda said in a syrupy tone.
"I'm not Greg, I'm Vickie!" I said in a whisper, looking to see if anyone had heard Linda, "Please?"
"All your talk about experimenting and really being a boy. A lot of baloney!"
Linda was upset and talking too loudly, I had never seen her look so beautiful. Her figure in the leotard was close to perfection.
"I can understand that you hate me, Linda. And I wish that somehow I could be Greg. But I can't. I'm Vickie. Greg is gone now. I'm afraid, Aunt Charlotte..."
Linda looked at me sadly. "You're afraid what? That you've become gay?"
"That wasn't what I was going to say. I don't think I'm gay. I don't know what I am. I'm afraid that Aunt Charlotte and I agree that its best that I be Vickie."
"Charlotte again. Everything revolves around Charlotte. What do YOU want?"
"I would like to be your girl friend, if I could. Aunt Charlotte says you're too old for me to play with, but maybe she won't mind."
"That's so stupid, and insulting." Linda turned away and made as if to start doing a warm up exercise on the barre. As an afterthought she said, "I know it all revolves around Charlotte. You're just her little toy. She turned you into a girl. Its scary and disgusting."
"She's not like that!" I said.
"If not, then you'll come by my apartment."
"I could come as Vickie?"
"What in a tutu? In Charlotte's girdle? What other silly costume?"
"I'd wear a dress. Charlotte only wants me..." I stopped short realizing that it was not what Linda would want to hear.
"Charlotte only allows you to wear dresses?"
"Not allows, I guess, Charlotte has never really said I can't wear jeans. Its just that Vickie, I mean me, is the kind of girl who prefers dresses and skirts."
"So I have to introduce you to my parents as Vickie? Wearing a dress?"
"I'm sorry Linda."
Linda thought for a moment. "Who knows, maybe Greg can return under a little coaxing."
I didn't know exactly what that meant. But the thought crossed my mind that it might be something that I should hope for.
Mrs. Williamson came over to us. "I didn't know you knew Linda," she said.
"She lives in the same building as my Aunt Charlotte, and we became friends."
"I'm so glad. Linda is one of our great stars."
"Don't tease me Marion," Linda said.
Mrs Williamson smiled at her and then her face turned more serious and she said, "Vickie here made quite a debut today. Not only does she dress like a prima ballerina, she shows natural talent. She should be dancing everyday. In no time she'll be in our best classes."
I saw Linda looking at Mrs. Williamson as if she were crazy. Still, I blushed scarlet. "Mrs. Williamson how could that possibly be true. I felt like a dinosaur dancing today."
"You need to have self-confidence," Mrs. Williamson said, "you have to believe in
yourself."
"Its just that the other girls were younger."
"There is no such thing as a modest ballerina," Mrs. Williamson said. "To go out on stage in front of thousands and balance on pointe takes courage, fearlessness and supreme self-confidence. I think I'll have to beat that into you!"
"Mrs. Williamson..."
"Now go on to the locker room and change" she cut me off. "Class must begin!"
Linda and I exchanged parting glances, and I hoped that my eyes communicated that I was glad that she had kept my secret.
In the dressing room, chaos reigned like I had thought it would. I had to squeeze my way through the twenty girls squirming out of their leotards and into their shorts, skirts and tops. I held my stiff skirt up against me as best I could, lest it get caught on someone. It was so difficult to move through the girls, that I had to laugh, and the girls around me laughed too. It was like a Marx brothers movie as I inched step by step to where I had left my dress. I noticed that only some of the girls were wearing bras.
I felt selfconscious wearing a padded bra that me seem so much more endowed. Girls bumped me with their arms and banged into me as they hopped into their shorts.
When I finally got to my corner I saw that Jessica was changing there. My dress was where I had left it, though it had been tussled up.
"I didn't know that you know Linda?" Jessica said.
"Yes, she lives in my building.
"She's a great dancer. Sometimes she teaches our class!"
"Really?"
"Yeah, when Mrs. Williamson is busy."
Jessica was wearing white panties and a tiny wisp of a white bra. Looking around, I saw that most of the girls just wore plain white panties. With some trepidation I slipped out of the tutu exposing my ruffly panties and padded bra. It looked to me like all eyes were gazing at me.
"Gosh those are pretty panties!" Jessica said.
"Thanks," I said.
"As my mom would say, you really like the frou-frou!"
I blushed.
When I got back to the apartment Ethel was getting ready to leave for her trip. She asked me how the class went, and I told her that I had loved it. The girls were nice, but they were kind of young for me. She didn't seem perturbed by that and I just let it go.
Ethel was anxious to tell me what I needed to know about fixing dinner for Charlotte and for taking care of the apartment. The dinner that night was shrimp fettuccine, which I thought was too ambitious for me to prepare correctly, but Ethel had done most of the preparations, and I would only have to steam the shrimp, make the pasta and combine them with a sauce she had already made. Besides that was the salad that I would make myself.
At 5 O'clock Ethel left and I felt more than a twinge of sadness at the thought that she wouldn't be around for a few days. I couldn't dispel from my mind the recent memories of Charlotte whipping, and hurting me and humiliating and embarrassing me. But I was determined that as long as I believed I was Vickie that I would be safe. She would never hit a girl - particularly her own niece. There was some predictability in that.
With time on my hands, I took a bubble bath, and when I got out of the tub feeling relaxed and smelling pretty, I realized that I didn't want to put on the bra and panties I had worn while dancing, since they were sweaty. But Charlotte hadn't left out clean underwear for me and I was in a quandary as to what I should do. If I put on the dirty underwear she could very well yell at me for being dumb. But if I put on clean underwear she could yell at me for defying her. I decided that a way out of the dilemma was to put on my nightie and wait until Charlotte came home to find out what bra I should wear. So I put on one of my pink nighties and the fluffy pink slippers and went to the kitchen and made the salad. Then I sat down in the living room to wait for Charlotte's return.
I opened up one of her lingerie magazines and went to the table of contents, looking for an interesting article to read. "Making the most of your bra," "What is too much lift?," "24/7 bras," "Lace, lace, lace," and "Bra and panty envy." The last of these raised my curiosity and I opened to the article. It was about little girls envying their older sister's bras and panties, or about girls who weren't yet wearing bras being envious of those who did, and how it caused tension in girls locker rooms. The topic was so close to my questions of Ethel that I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. According to the article, since the end of the "burn the bra" decade in the 1970s, girls have been wearing bras at younger and younger ages. It was the inevitable result of bra envy. While it was good for the manufacturers, it was not necessarily good for little girls. Just because your older sister wears a bra, doesn't mean you have to. Your day will come soon enough. You can be just as feminine as any girl even without wearing a bra. Just another unfortunate consequence of the age of instant gratification. I read on the last page of the article: little boys can also suffer from bra envy. Perhaps they see mom and dad's attention devoted to their older sisters developing bust, and they find themselves envying big sis. They may also spend a lot of time with mom as she gets dressed and they want to be like her. Particularly if they have her all to themselves during the day and after school before dad gets home. The treatment is the same for boys as girls. It is important to be firm but gentle. You don't want to hurt their self-esteem. Make it clear that bras are for older girls who need to protect their breasts, and that boys are lucky since they do not have breasts that need to be protected. If he continues to suffer from bra envy, you can do the same as with a younger sister. Buy him a pretty bra but only if he agrees to play with it following your rules. For example, he should only wear his bra when dad is at work and only in the house or yard. Not when he plays with his boy friends; only with his own or his sister's girl friends. This will help teach him responsibility and the virtues of compromise and self-control.
The summer that Lei got her first bra, I must have developed bra envy. Then it was reinforced every time Charlotte visited and gave Lei a new bra or panty. If only my mom had known the truth. She could have gotten me my own bra to play with and then I'd probably had an answer when Charlotte made me..... When Charlotte made me what? What had Charlotte done? I wasn't sure if Charlotte had made me buy panties and then become Vickie, or if I had done it by myself because I was under the spell of bra envy.
I heard the key enter the front door lock and I jumped up and ran to greet Charlotte. She came in bustling with energy and an outdoorsy smell. I stood expectantly next to her and then excitedly gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Charlotte said, "why are you in your nightie?"
"I came back from ballet class, which I really really loved and I had been all sweaty, and then after Aunt Ethel left, I took a bath and then I knew you wouldn't want me to put on my sweaty bra and panty, but you hadn't left out a clean one and I didn't know what one you wanted me to wear. So I put on my nightie!!"
"Well I suppose in this situation it is OK if you pick any of your bras and panties to wear," Charlotte said.
"I wasn't sure Aunt Charlotte, and I didn't want to be too forward!"
"Yes I can see that picking out a bra for yourself is a daunting task.
Perhaps you are too young for that. Here let me find you a bra and panty."
There was a trace of sarcasm in her voice.
I followed Charlotte to my room where she proceeded to open up a dresser drawer and pick out a bra and panty for me.
"I want you fluffy tonight. Put on your white petticoat and the pink skirt and the white peasant top. You know which ones I mean?"
"I think so!"
"Good, but before you go, I'll have my martini! And take care of my shoes!"
"Of course, Aunt Charlotte!"
We went back to the living room and Charlotte sat in her usual seat and I knelt down and took her shoes off her stockinged feet and carried them to just inside the door of her room. I then went to the bar and mixed her a martini and brought it to her.
"Now run along now and get dressed."
I went back to my room and put on the bra and panties she had selected and took out the petticoat, skirt and top that she had referred to. I was not sure if they were what she wanted so I ran back to her wearing only the bra and panty and showed her the clothes. "Is this the petticoat and skirt you wanted me to wear?"
"Yes dear, but you'll have to wear an apron so you don't get them dirty. And you'll have to put on stockings." As I ran back to my room she called to me, "how long until dinner?"
I stopped and said, "when the bell goes off, Aunt Charlotte, in just a few minutes!"
I continued on my way back to my room and got dressed. First I put on stockings and then pulled the soft white petticoat up to my waist followed by the pink skirt with an elastic waist which I placed over my head and slid down over my bust and down to my hips and spread the skirt evenly over the petticoat. I put on the blouse and tucked it into my skirt. I could hear the buzzer going off in the kitchen and I ran to the mirror, looked myself over and ran back out to the kitchen. "Sorry, Aunt Charlotte!"
I turned off the oven and took out the dish with shrimp and pasta. I put on my apron, and then went back out to the living room. "Aunt Charlotte, dinner will be served!"
After I had cleaned up the dishes and table, Charlotte asked me sit with her in the living room. It was eerily quiet, just the two of us together, sitting side by side with the occasional sound of a bus or car horn outside and the ticking of the clock in the dining room.
Charlotte put her arm across my front and rested her hand in my lap, and I turned to look at her.
"Yes, I like my Vickie fluffy," Charlotte said, "you look good."
"Thank you, Aunt Charlotte," I said.
"There are two types of girls in the world. Those who are fluffy and those who are not."
Full well knowing the answer, I said, "you're not fluffy, are you, Aunt Charlotte?"
"Of course, not. Obviously, Ethel, Lillian, Lei, none of us are fluffy, only you are!"
"There aren't many girls who are fluffy?"
"There used to be a lot more, particularly girls who wanted to be feminine
to please men. Now girls are a lot smarter than that"
"Do you think I'm dumb, Aunt Charlotte?"
"You're not dumb dumb, but you aren't the kind of girl who can think for herself."
"I like math, Aunt Charlotte!"
"Not not as much as a pretty petticoat and skirt. Mathematicians don't worry about having a large bust and showing it off. And they don't fall into a quandary worrying about which bra they should wear."
Her words stung me, and I thought about what I could say in my defense. Finally, I said, "I do love this skirt, Aunt Charlotte. I thought you would be mad at me for picking out a bra on my own." I felt tears coming on and stopped talking. I sat up tall in the seat and adjusted my skirt and smoothed down the petticoat underneath.
"Don't worry about it, Vickie. Some girls are meant to give, and that can be a full time job. Other girls are meant to be taken care of by girls like you. You have to learn to listen to them to find out what they want from you."
"Is it better to be a girl who gives, Aunt Charlotte?"
"Neither is better than the other, as long as you understand which side you belong to."
"I'm a giver aren't I?"
"I saw that in you from the start. I'm glad you're seeing yourself for what you are."
"What can I give you, besides making you a martini and dinner?"
"Just being a fine girl is a good start. But there are many other things."
"Like what, Aunt Charlotte?"
"You'll have to be taught. For example, how to be affectionate. How to give love and to make another person feel cared for. Do you want to learn?"
"I should, shouldn't I?", Aunt Charlotte?"
"Either you do or your don't."
"I do, Aunt Charlotte."
"OK. I think you're old enough to understand."
"Is it something only grown up women can know?" I let out a yawn and muffled it with my hand.
Charlotte smiled. "You must be very tired, what with your dancing and everything."
"I guess I am sleepy."
"Do you want to lie down on the sofa with your head in my lap."
"Really?"
"Yes really, now go on, do it!"
I did as she said. I lay fully extended with my skirt and petticoat gathered neatly under and around my hips and my head resting on Charlotte's lap. Looming over me were her breasts encased in bra, slip and white blouse, just like in the cab ride. Charlotte was sitting up erect and her face was partially hidden from my view by her right breast.
"Comfortable?" Charlotte said.
"And how, Aunt Charlotte!"
"Lets play a game."
"What sort of game?"
"Its called 5 answers. I'll ask a question and you have to give me five answers. Want to play?"
"Sure, Aunt Charlotte!"
"Good. So I'll go first. Tell me five things you love about me."
"Oh!" I said caught by surprise. I guess I had been thinking the questions would be about whales or something like that.
"Can't answer it?" Charlotte said.
"Of course, I can, Aunt Charlotte. What I love about you. Well, I love how beautiful you are, your hair and face and everything."
Charlotte was looking down at me. I wanted to say I loved her breasts but decided I had better not. "And I love how nice you are to me, and that you have given me a nice place to live. That's three, just two more." I scrunched up my face in thought. "I love you for getting me a pretty dress yesterday and the bras and panties." I looked up at Charlotte's face, she was now looking across the room. Her breasts seemed so inviting. I thought of touching them, and then suddenly realized how that kind of thinking could get me severely beaten, if not thrown out of the apartment.
"One more," Charlotte said.
"I love you for, for..." I was stuck and I knew it and then I blurted out, "for making me Vickie."
I saw Charlotte smile. "Very nice answers honey. Now your turn to ask a question."
"Could you tell me five things that you love about me?"
"Are you sure you want that question?" Charlotte said.
"Is it a bad question, Aunt Charlotte?"
Charlotte laughed. "Is that your question?"
"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."
"OK. What I love about Vickie. I love your weakness. I love your dependence. I love your helplessness. I love your devotion. I love you for worshiping me."
I was so shocked I couldn't speak.
"You asked the question," Charlotte said. "Part of the game is you have to be willing to hear the answer."
"But, Aunt Charlotte?"
"Yes?"
I felt like I should get up from where I was, but as soon as I started to move Charlotte said, "stay."
"Now its my turn again," Charlotte said. "What do you think about my vagina?"
"I'm embarrassed Aunt Charlotte!" The direction the game had gone was frightening.
"Answer the question."
"I guess I love your vagina. I respect it."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know, Aunt Charlotte."
"You have to answer truthfully and intelligibly."
"I'm sorry, Aunt Charlotte."
"Go on."
"I love knowing you wear pretty panties. I mean that your vagina is in the pretty panties."
I racked my brain trying to think of something. "And I love that I got to wear your girdle. The same girdle which you wore and that must have held your vagina."
"That's three," Charlotte said.
"Let me see. I love worshiping your vagina. I wish I had your vagina."
"Good, good, Vickie. One more."
"I can't wait to kiss it again tomorrow morning!"
"See how fun the game is. Now its your turn again."
I could not think of anything to say. Finally, I tried, "how can I make you happy?"
"Good question, Vickie. Let me think for a minute."
Charlotte rearranged her position a little on the sofa, and as she did so she held my head and lifted it slightly so it brushed against her breast.
"Well, one way to make me happy..." Charlotte drifted off into a reverie. After a minute or two she began unbuttoning her blouse from the top button down and then pulled the lower part of her blouse out of her skirt, and undid the last couple of buttons. Then she leaned forward and took off the blouse so she was now just in her slip and bra. Wordlessly, she pulled the straps of her slip off her shoulders and then pulled the slip down around her hips. I smelled a floral scent which must have come from her dresser drawer sachet. I continued looking up at her face and then stared at the massiveness of her filled out bra, suspended inches from my face.
"You can give me pleasure. That's the first way a girl giver can give."
"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."
"Do you want to give me pleasure?"
"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."
"If I take off my bra, will you suckle me gently?"
"Yes, I will Aunt Charlotte."
"Its a form of giving."
"Yes, Aunt Charlotte." I examined every detail of her white bra. As she bantered with me, it seemed like her nipples grew increasingly distinct behind the fabric. They poked at the material now.
"So you are truly a giver?" she said.
"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."
"Good, now I'll let you give." Charlotte reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, and I watched as her breasts first rose with the bra and then fell back against her chest as she pulled it away.
I opened my mouth expectantly as Charlotte looked down at me. She straightened her back and sucked in her stomach and I watched her breasts jut out menacingly over my head. The hard nipples pointed out invitingly. Her arm slid underneath my head, lifted it slightly and then held it, and she leaned forward slowly aiming her left nipple toward my mouth. When it was just an inch away she stopped. I couldn't see anything more than her two breasts.
"You can suck on this gently. Very gently. Understand?"
"Yes, Aunt Charlotte."
"Good," she said.
The next thing I knew the nipple brushed against my lips and then I started sucking on the hard rigid warm skin. Almost immediately I tasted a few drops of sweet liquid and then some more every now and then.
"You are such a baby," Charlotte said. She moved her hand so it was lying on my skirt over my penis. Small pulses of pleasure radiated through me.
"Not so hard!" Charlotte said and I eased up on the pressure. It seemed that the harder I sucked the more I could taste the sweet liquid. I felt intoxicated by the flavor.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Charlotte," I mumbled.
The sweet liquid came out sporadically from her breast. Her fingers slid up my leg underneath my skirt and petticoat and settled again on my penis. Charlotte stroked it slowly.
"NOT, so hard!" Charlotte said sharply.
"I'm really sorry, Aunt Charlotte!" I said with desperation.
Charlotte pulled the breast away and moved her other one in front of my face. I latched on to it and immediately felt a small flood of her milk. Charlotte's hand stroked my skirt as if to smooth it down.
"Gently, Vickie," Charlotte said and then let out a small moan.
I swirled my tongue over the nipple and flicked at it a couple of times.
"Suck gently," I heard Charlotte say and I obeyed her.
I was feeling serene and got lost in my thoughts. I wished her hand would resume stroking over my penis.
"OUCH!" Charlotte screamed. "God damn it, I said be careful!" She shoved my head away from her breast and before I could raise an arm in defense, her hand came down and smacked me on the cheek. "I told you to be careful!"
I burst into tears and tried to soothe the sudden intense pain on my cheek. While I cried, Charlotte put her bra and slip back into place. I was sobbing uncontrollably and saying I was sorry.
"You're a naughty baby!" Charlotte said with venom. "With sharp little teeth!"
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Aunt Charlotte. I forgot what I was doing." My jaw ached so hard I wondered if Charlotte had broken it.
"You have to be a gentle nurser and pay attention to what you are doing. Or I won't be able to nurse you anymore. I'll get a real wet nurse who won't be as patient as I!"
"I won't do it again, Aunt Charlotte, I promise."
Charlotte looked at me sternly, but I saw that her anger had passed.
"Tomorrow we'll try it again."
"Thank you, Aunt Charlotte. I won't be bad any more."
"Its bedtime for you. Tomorrow is a big day. You start work with Angela, she's running a fitting at Macy's Herald Square. I'll escort you there tomorrow and make sure you get off to a good start. We'll have to get up early."
Charlotte followed me into my bedroom, and while I was getting undressed and putting away the skirt and crinoline and taking off my bra, I said, "Aunt Charlotte, you never said how else I could make you happy."
"I'm not sure that you can make me happy, at least not the ways I was thinking. You're too young."
I put on my negligee and hopped onto bed and got under the cover. "Please give me a second chance. I'm sure that if I try really hard I can do whatever you want, Aunt Charlotte."
Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed. "You have to believe that my pleasure is the most important thing in your life. If you felt that way, you wouldn't have bit down on my nipple. Your pleasure has to come from giving me pleasure."
"It makes me happy to give you pleasure, Aunt Charlotte. It makes me happy to make you happy."
"Is there anything more important in your life than my pleasure?"
"No, Aunt Charlotte."
"What about mathematics?"
"No, Aunt Charlotte."
"Linda?"
"No, Aunt Charlotte."
"Really, nothing else?"
"No, Aunt Charlotte."
"Your mom and dad?"
Like a hot poker going through my heart I thought of them. Charlotte scrutinized me and I saw the beginning of a smirk in her lips.
"No, Aunt Charlotte. You're happiness is more important. Its most important to me!" I wanted desperately to cry again, but I managed to hold it off.
"I do believe you are sincere Vickie. So I will tell you one way to make me happy."
"Thank you Aunt Charlotte."
"You will be my little vagina princess."
"What does that mean, Aunt Charlotte?"
"I'll tell you. You'll be in charge of the vaginas in the apartment. The ones belonging to whatever women are here. It will be your responsibility to take care of their needs."
I wondered what the needs could be, and as if reading my thoughts she said, "There are three needs. One is pleasure, and I'll teach you how to give pleasure to a vagina. The second is as the source of new life, and I'll show you how to make sure that a vagina is comfortable during its monthly menses. The third is not glamorous, but it is necessary. A vagina is from whence women pee and you'll have to make sure that it is kept clean."
I was entirely confused. It was not remotely what I was thinking. "I don't see how I would know when or how to do anything, Aunt Charlotte," I said.
"No need to worry. Any woman who wants your services will raise a finger to you. One digit means you give pleasure, two means that you'll help them change their tampon or pad, and three means that you'll accompany them to the bathroom, where you'll help clean them up after they go."
My eyes widened at this last remark and Charlotte added, "you are strictly the princess of vaginas. Nothing else."
I wanted Charlotte to explain to me how this gave her pleasure, but I kept silent. She knew more than I did. That was clear. I supposed I was lucky. If I tried to do each job well, she'd probably be very kind to me. The thought of seeing so many vaginas was not an unpleasant thought, and this is the one I held onto as I fell asleep.
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