After breakfast, I went to the bathroom and smeared shaving foam over my cheeks and chin. I gave myself a good close shave before rinsing and washing my face properly. After brushing my teeth I removed my pyjamas and found my new hairless body. Being free of all body hair from the neck down looked really strange, like I’d regressed back to being a prepubescent whilst my body remained fully grown. My arms and legs look longer and slimmer than I’m used to, and as I began washing myself with a hot soapy flannel, I quickly realised just how sensitive my Underneath had become. I dried myself off, donned my dressing gown and exited the bathroom.
Mother told me she’d be doing my make-up before I got dressed, so I went straight downstairs. “All clean?” Mother asked. I sheepishly nodded and smiled through pursed lips. Mother asked if I’d put my underwear on and I said I’d wait until later. “Why don’t you put it on now?” she asked.
Knowing an instruction when I hear one, I turned and went to my room. Mother must have laid my clothes out whilst I was washing myself as on my bed lay my new flat-bra and my new control knickers. Next to these she laid my blouse and my skirt. Reluctantly I picked up the knickers, opened my bathrobe and stepped into them. They were unlike any other pair of knickers I’d worn. I had to sit on my bed in order to squeeze my hips through them. I arranged my tackle as best I could inside them, before turning to the bra. I’d worn cropped vests before, which were essentially a training bra, but this was a whole new ball game. I struggled to fasten it and shamefully had to shout downstairs and ask Mother to come and help.
“How do the knickers feel?” she asked as she helped me into my bra, “They look nice.” she added. I told her that they felt ‘really’ tight. Too tight in fact. “They’re control knickers Andrew.” she said as she stared at my Underneath. “You don’t want your boyish bulge showing when you’ve got your skirt on do you?” she asked as she adjusted the shoulder straps. “How does that feel?”.
“Tight.” I replied.
I wasn’t surprised when Mother told me that it’s supposed to be tight. “You don’t want it riding up your chest.” she said. I pulled on my bathrobe and followed Mother to the kitchen. A chair waited for me, along with Mother’s big vanity case. Vincent was just finishing clearing up after breakfast. He cast me a reassuring smile as I sat myself down. “Oh show Vincent your underwear Andrew!” Mother chirped.
“Oh Mu-um! Do I have to?” I whined. Mother insisted, so I stood up, unfastened my bathrobe and held it open for a brief moment so my brother could have a look. He said it looked nice, but clearly felt some pity for my predicament. I fastened my robe and sat back down.