Confessions

It was late, a little after ten p.m., when I heard Tim come downstairs. Mama had gone to bed and I was lying on the couch, watching TV alone.

I saw him walk pass, behind the couch and into the kitchen. I got up and headed to where he was and found him in the kitchen, looking in the refrigerator.

"I'll heat up some leftovers for you," I offered.

He turned and looked at me. Smiling, he closed the refrigerator and sat down at the table.

"Thank you."

We didn't say anything else to each other during the time it took for me to heat a plate of meatloaf, potatoes, and corn on the gas stove that was fuled by a giant propane tank that sat on thr side of the house, but I did notice he kept sneaking glances at me from the corner of his eye.

"Milk, water, coke, watermelon soju?" I asked as I placed the heaping plate of food in front of him.

Bamboo soju was something we always requested whenever one of us was asked what we wanted to drink. We didn't really have any, it was just an inside joke between the four of us brothers, that we could share in front of Mama and she had no clue what it meant.

Long story short, about six months ago, Tim aquired (read: shoplifted) a bottle of the bamboo-filtered Korean liquor from the alcohol cooler in her back corner of the local grocery store and all four of us boys shared it. We didn't get a buzz or anything, it was just enough to satisfy our curiosity as to how it tasted. (Like rubbing alcohol poured a lawn mower carburetor.)

Anyways, I said it at this time to get a smile, any reaction out of Tim, but it didn't quite work. All I got was, "Damn sure is a lot of food. Do I look like an elephant."

"No, really? But you did sound a lot like a jackass earlier," I snidely replied.

"Water," he sharply snapped before giving me a quick slap on my butt as I turned towards the cabinet to retrieve a glass.

What the hell, I thought, but didn't show any visible reaction.

After roughly plopping a glass of cold ice water down in front of him, I smiled and in the sweetest, most feminine voice I could muster, I told him to enjoy, then I left to finish getting ready for bed.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I was still bothered, or was it intrigued, by the little exchange in the kitchen. Either way it was confusing. What did that slap on the rear mean? Sure the four of us did things like that and worse, all the time but at that moment, in that situation was it as innocent as my soju comment or something else?

About half an hour later, Tim walked in on me through the half open door of what had unofficially become my bathroom. I had removed my makeup, brushed my teeth, washed by face, and was about to apply a cold cream mask.

Ma had told me I need to start doing that every night, to make my skin soft and supple.

Embarrassed, I turned my eyes away from his and looked into the large mirror over the vanity.

"Oh, I thought you'd done gone to bed already and just forgot to turn the light off," he murmured unconvincingly.

I looked over at him through the mirror as he continued to stand there, making no attempt to leave.

Having removed his shirt somewhere between the kitchen and here, he was now shirtless in his unbuttoned jeans. Timmy stood a foot taller than me at 6' 1", clean-cut, muscular, unshaven, tan, a real good-looking guy. I had always looked up to him and often wondered if I'd look as good as him when I matured.

He looked at me and I quickly refocused my gaze back at my own reflection: a slender, petite, feminine-looking boy, with wavy hair below my shoulders and tendrils of feminine curls draped down one side of my face.

Without makeup and a dress I obviously looked like a boy and not a girl, I thought, even though I had on panties and an A cup padded bra.

Tim stammered as he awkwardly tried to start a conversation. "What do, I mean . . . is-is this w-what you want? Why, why are you doing this?"

He stared down at the bathroom rug, avoiding eye contact. I continued to apply face cream.

"I never asked for this. I didn't choose this on my own. I-"

"Then why are you doing it?" He interrupted.

"It's Mama. She's worried about us, all of us. She's afraid no one will take care of us when she's gone. She sees me as the most like her and the most likely one of us to take care of domestic things. You're too busy with your studies and your job. She needs you to be the man of the house and take care us financially, so she's looking at me to take care of us domestically."

"Yeah, okay, but do you have to become a girl to do it?"

I turned to face him.

"She thinks this is the best way to do it, because it'll remind me of my role in the house, and you guys will be more likely to respect me in that role if I'm a delicate female and not just another one of the boys."

"What about you? What do you want?" Tim inquired of me.

"Does it really matter what I want? There's more to think about that just my own desires. It's just like you. You don't want to have to go to school full time and work a full time job then spend all your money on the family, but you do it because you love us. Besides, I'd do anything for mom if it makes her last days easier, she dying and much, much too worried about us. We don't need her to worry."

"But . . . w-why now? Didn't the doctor say her treatments would give her many more years of life?"

"She wants to make sure she has time to teach me everything she thinks I'll need to know. And-"

I paused, not sure if I should continue or not.

Tim stepped forward and wrapped an arm around my shoulders in a show of support.

"And what? Spit it out."

"Mama made me promise I wouldn't say anything."

"What is it? Come on. We can't have secrets. We've never had secrets between us. Besides, if it's about ma and her health, I have a right to not be kept in the dark, a need to know."

I began to realize just how comforting his muscular arm were, tightly wrapped around me. I had never imagined a guy, any guy could make me feel as safe and secure as this.

What was happening to me?

I sighed and swallowed the lump in my throat, then began to explain what only I knew, "At Mama's last doctor's appointment we found out, on top of everything we already knew, they've discovered a cancerous mass in her lungs, too. They've shortened the time they think she'll live."

"What! No, no, no! Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't she want me to know? Why did you think this was a good idea to keep secret from me?"

"She didn't want to worry you more. You've got enough to worry about. She needs you to remain strong and not have to worry too much so you can continue to provide for us."

"Thanks for telling me," he said. "But, don't tell the boys."

"Of course. They already know more than they should have to."

Tim rested his head against mine and we just looked at each other in the mirror, not saying anything.

After a long pause, Tim finally brought the conversation back to my situation.

"So this really was all mom's idea?"

"Yeah, it was."

"And you're okay with it?"

I shrugged. I really was conflicted about it, but as I continued to grow accustomed to it, I found myself starting to become one more comfortable and oppose it a little less, each day.

"You don't know? But what do you think, aside from not wanting to hurt mom?"

"It's okay. I mean. Maybe Ma's right, Tim. If this is what's best for all of us, then maybe it's my destiny."

"You don't think it's weird?"

"What do you think, Tim?"

"Well, it's definitely weird, but I can be a little more supportive and try to get used to it."

He picked up the hairbrush from the counter.

"Can I -," he shyly asked, holding the brush up.

"Sure," I replied, willing to do whatever it took to smooth over our relationship.

He moved a half a step back and began to run the brush through my hair. Feeling it catch and pull as the bristles flowed through my hair, I leaned my head back and to the sides with each brush stroke, closing my eyes momentarily, savoring the luxurious sensations. This felt better than when mom did it.

After several more strokes, I realized it felt so good, not only was my stress melting away, but I was starting to become aroused below.

To get my mind of it and hopefully stop the redirection of blood to my groin, I broke the silence with a question, "What were you thinking at dinner? You stormed out? Why? Were you disgusted by how I looked?"

He stopped brushing and replied.

"No . . . It, ah, it made me . . . uncomfortable. You've had the hair and makeup, and painted nails for a couple weeks, and I was finally starting to get used to it, but seeing my brother in not only all that, and in a skirt, plus tonight you had on panty hose, heels a-and."

"Not high heels though, only one inch."

"Yeah, but still, they were heels and they made your walk look more girly, and you-you had . . ."

He reached around and poked one of my bra cups. "You looked like you had . . . . . . real boobs."

"It made you so uncomfortable you couldn't eat?"

"Yeah, it was too much to uh, to process at that moment."

The room fell silent and he began brushing my hair again.

The silence was awkward. Was this how it was gonna be from now on? Was he going to be able to come to terms with my new look and persona? For that matter, was I?

We were best friends at one time, but now, is this what I want? I didn't want to hurt Tim and lose my best friend. I didn't want to hurt mom either? She just wants what's best for us, to know we are going to be okay. The thought came to mind that maybe I could just do it until mom is no longer with us then go back to being Kevin.

I began to think about how I had felt moving around the kitchen; my chest comfortably hugged by the bra, the breast forms swaying as I moved, the tail of my skirt brushing across my nylon-covered thighs causing a tingling sensation to travel up my back.

The hardest part about my time in the kitchen had been the anticipation of how my brothers were going to react to seeing me dressed so much more feminine than before and what they would say.

Honestly, I actually enjoyed it, aside from not knowing what they would say. Thinking back, the best part had to have been wearing hose. The only way I could think to describe the sensation was, incredibly, intensely satisfying and something I look forward to doing again.

As I continued to think about the evening, I began to think about how the thing that weighed on my mind the most as I cooked dinner, was how important my older brother's acceptance was. So far, he had given me the cold shoulder and I had been afraid his storming out was the last straw. Although, I had held out hope that things would be different.

It had really hurt to have him storm out like that.

About that time he nervously spoke, interrupting my thoughts.

"You ah, youuu," his voice trailed off.

What, Tim?"

He stopped brushing and rested his forehead against the back of my head. I heard him swallow hard before admitting, "You make a pretty girl. "