| Dolly, Part 2 (As usual, a fantasy story for responsible adults only.) The story so far (though you should have read chapter 1 first) is Amanda gets quite a gift from her old aunt's will... an old-fashioned dolly who turns out to be a little girl. There was a condition to me loving Dolly. A small but significant "but" in Aunt Esther's will. I suppose there is always a ‘but’ in everything, yet this one surprised me. Miss Holt, her gown now well and truly open so her black underwear was on show and with little Emma sat on her lap, read out the small addition to the will. "It wouldn't have been appropriate to mention it at the reading," she said gravely, despite Emma working her hand into her the top of her teddy, feeling her big lover up. She must have been used to this toying as she didn't waver from her official-type duties. The woman cleared her throat, adjusted her glasses (and I heard Dolly chortle a little at her schoolteacher look) and read out the detail. "In so far as I, Esther Hermione Louise Webster, being of sound mind... blah, blah," said Miss Holt dismissing the legal stuff, "do hereby as an adjunct to my will, read earlier at the offices of Sanders, Sanders and Layton as per my instructions, require my niece Amanda Juliet Brooks to please, nurture and assist my own lover, Dolly, in my place. To do this my niece must adopt my first name and to all intents and purposes be me, including how I dress. All my clothes must be made available to Amanda Juliet Brooks for her to wear in the presence of Dolly at all times. Signed, this day of... etc." I gaped at Miss Holt who studiously took off her glasses, put down the paper, gave her little lover a kiss and then looked at me. "So, there you have it, Amanda. The condition." The impact of it slowly worked into me. I was going to be an old woman! "You mean... I have to... That I dress up as my aunt? But that's ridiculous and completely un–" "No it's not," interrupted Dolly appealingly, sat next to me and holding my hand. "Esther had some lovely clothes and you look like her." "Yes, she's right," said Miss Holt, wriggling slightly as Emma's hand found her nipple. "You do. It's odd as you shouldn't, but in some ways you look like a younger version of her. And, as Dolly has been required to be the little Victorian girl out of the bedroom, I can only applaud your aunt for wanting you to be more old-fashioned." I felt myself colour up. "But you don't wear old-fashioned things!" I nodded at Miss Holt's sexy underwear. I could imagine my aunt not having anything like that in her wardrobe. "No, but I am not your aunt," said Miss Holt. "I am not Dolly's lover. Was not at any time, and am not required to be. So if you do not wish to concur with this request – which I have to say may be unusual but not outrageous or putting you at any risk – then I will be required by the will to take charge of Dolly and find her a suitable home. And school." "No!" squeaked Dolly, aiming a 'rescue me' look at me. "But if you did find her some place to live, the women there don't have to dress up as... old fashioned widows." I was still aghast at what was being suggested. "Whoever we find for Dolly without you isn't meant to be Esther," the woman said seriously, "but you are." She paused, ignoring what Emma was doing to her. "Esther believed that proper behaviour, dressing sensibly, being decorous and polite, was the pinnacle of civilised life. She liked to embody that." The woman paused again, gave way to the pawing of her bust, had another peck kiss from her lover, and resumed: "You are very much like your aunt, and I am confident the clothes will fit. Oh, of course Esther had grey hair, but no one expects you to go that far and colour yours. Unless you want to, for Dolly's sake." The child next to me grinned. I could tell what was on her mind. "Esther's clothes," said Miss Holt, "are in Dolly's room upstairs. If I were you I would at least look at them before making a decision. They may, shall we say, surprise you a little if only by Dolly's reaction." She smiled as she said that and I felt a new, more intense buzz between my legs. I was also aware of Dolly's big, wide grin. --- There was something odd about being with a small girl in one bedroom while down the hallway another mature woman was no doubt already in bed with another little girl. I hardly dare think about what Miss Holt and Emma were doing. But unlike Miss Holt I did not have on anything sexy right now. I had felt ashamed as I stripped off in the small bedroom (at Dolly's insistence, I have to say) and blushed as I revealed my dull grey bra and panty set. What had possessed me to wear such unattractive undies on this day? Why hadn't I gone for something I might want to be seen in? Dolly was smiling as I took my clothes off. She seemed genuinely pleased I had, after much agonising and self-debate, listening to all of them tell me how natural it was for an older woman to love a small girl, finally consented to go upstairs with the girl. She even held my hand as we climbed the stairs, a confident little girl with such a perfect smile. And she wasn't amused by my underwear, compared with what she had seen on Miss Holt. But she was being patient with me as she did want me to do something. She said it would make her happy if I was like Esther all the time. Given that the room was filled with photos of my aunt and the little girl, it made sense in a way. Photos I should hastily add that were completely innocent. Images of the older woman and the child on a beach in their swimming costumes, getting ready to go to some party and in matching frocks, standing by some statue in London, smiling as they hugged on a settee. A party picture, with the two of them blowing out candles. Happy and full of life. A time together she would always treasure. They were just photos of an older woman and a child, innocent unless you knew as I now did. They were a little too close, a little too touchy-feely, the way they held hands. If you knew you could see hints. And in one picture Dolly was stood, pressed into my aunt's body, a relaxed looking moment but if you understood you could see Dolly had her hand between the two bodies and it just seemed to be inside my aunt's button-front dress at her hips. But like I say, you had to know. I felt terribly embarrassed that I was finally naked and slightly alarmed how I could see myself in the pictures of my aunt and Dolly. I hadn't got grey hair but then I had to admit it suited Aunt Esther. Made her look sensible. I stood awkwardly in front of Dolly, feeling there was something surreal about all this and it wouldn't have been hard to walk out. Dressed as me, of course. Dolly had thrown open the doors of the big wardrobe. "Esther's clothes," she announced. "Please try them on!" I gulped as I looked. There were not only blouses and skirts and dresses (even the same blue and red flower button-front dress in the photo on the wall) but also underwear. Mature, sensible underwear. All controlling panels and satin and lace sewn into the bra cups. The sort of underwear that so many older women use to bolster their figures. "Dolly, I am not sure–" I began. She interrupted as she grabbed what was a white corselet. With suspenders for heaven's sake! "Please put this on, Mandy. I loved Esther is this." "I see," I said. I wasn't sure what to do. "They aren't dead women's clothes," said Dolly, and the statement made me start. "Miss Holt said I had to tell you. Esther wasn't... she wasn't wearing any of this when she passed away." "No," I said, astonished that the child could be so able to tell me. "Of course not." I reached out and took the garment. It was surprisingly heavy but smelled faintly of a pleasant perfume. I recognised it as Esther's. The one I always liked on her. Dolly watched as I pulled on the corselet. My aunt was slightly heavier than me but the corselet – the white one piece – was still tight on me. But as it slid up, as I made sure my boobs were in the cups and it sat properly on my hips I felt a certain sensation. Not spooky, but that I was being helped somehow. Now, I am not psychic and don't believe in such things, but as someone once told me, until you get that type of feeling you have no idea. You can never tell anyone about it so they'd understand, but you know there's something going on. So it all felt sort of natural, like it was meant for me. Dolly sprang up from where she had been sitting and insisted on fastening my suspenders: I had picked up a pair of stockings from the wardrobe. And having a child's hands rolling the nylons up your leg carefully and then attaching the clips to the stocking tops to the tops was... well, strange but just about perfect. "So how do I look, Dolly?" I asked, standing with hands on hips, legs apart. Despite my misgivings I was quite proud of how I had managed to get this old-fashioned outfit on. "You look like Esther!" the girl bubbled. I could see Dolly was delighted, and it made me feel good that she was happy. In fact, it made me feel more than good. For some reason my naked pussy (the corselet was of the open-bottom variety) was starting to ooze. Dolly must have noticed it and giggled in a nice way. "Now the knickers," she said, going into the wardrobe. She produced a pair of beige old- fashioned high sided kickers. "Angel, those don't match my outfit," I said and blushed at once. My outfit? And since when did it matter that the effect was right? Dolly laughed. "That's what Esther said," she chortled, and went to get some white ones. Before long I was dressed as Esther would have been. The corselet was covered by a full- length white stain slip with deep lace at the bust and hem, a pink blouse and a grey mid calf skirt. I caught sight of myself in the mirror in the door of the wardrobe and for a moment believed it was my aunt looking back at me. "You look lovely," said Dolly, clapping her hands. "Now the necklace." The child rooted in a jewellery box on the dresser and produced a string of large pearls. She insisted on fastening it for me and the necklace felt heavy on my neck and chest. "Esther loved these," said the girl. "It was a birthday present from me to her." I smiled. They were old fashioned and middle aged and perfect and they suited my new outfit. "I love you Mandy," grinned the girl as I stood in front of the mirror and rolled the pearls through my fingers. "And will you wear some of Esther's make up, please?" It was impossible to say no. I had, in the space of thirty minutes, almost become my aunt. I could see her like this, and so could her little lover. I sat at the dresser, putting on my aunt's foundation, her lipstick and a little blusher. Dolly found some clip-on earrings to match the necklace and helped me clip them on. But it was time for some honesty. "Dolly," I said turning to her. "This is fun but you know I am not Esther, don't you? I may look like her in this, but... I don't think I can be like her. Not in everything." Dolly's face fell a little, but she rallied. "Mandy... I know. But there was one thing she did for me that... Well, I'd like to try." I was puzzled. "What do yo–" Without warning she flung her arms round my neck and planted her little lips on mine. Surprisingly passionately, I have to say. I was startled but it would be stupid to say I wasn't thrilled. I put my arms round the girl in the Victorian style doll's dress and kissed her back. Hard and with my tongue in her open mouth, my hands on her little firm bum. If there was one thing about dressing up like this, it was having it all removed. Dolly opened my blouse slowly and deliberately, peeled it off me, got the skirt off and slid down my slip before she dragged my knickers down. The rest stayed and she pushed me on to the bed and began to play with me through my solid-looking corselet. I lay back and allowed it: this I imagined was what my aunt had to put up with. Small and eager hands on her tits, inside the cups, between her legs... and then Dolly's tongue lapping at my very wet slit as I lay back and let her just do it. I was in heaven, and the child was good at this. We made love, Dolly and me, with me helping her out of her dress and knickers and we shared so much on that narrow bed. It was heaven, and I knew seeing me and Dolly like this – doing all this – would have made her happy. She also wanted me to try on other clothes afterwards, and I was happy to do it. And every new thing I wore seemed to take me closer to my aunt, make me feel closer to Dolly. Finally I sat in the same button-front blue and red dress Esther wore in the picture on the wall and Dolly showed me what she did to my aunt the day it was taken. I had to stand for this, leaning against the wall and it was, as Dolly threaded her little hand in and found me inside one of aunt's heavy corsets, utterly breathtaking. I was captivated, and deliriously happy as I came for the third time that day. --- Miss Holt is a good friend, and Emma a charming companion for her as well as a cheerful visitor with her older lover to our modest house, but I am glad I have Dolly all to myself now. We live in a comfortable if small house in a quiet area, enjoy each other and I have a large and growing wardrobe my aunt would be proud of. Indeed, Dolly and I often go shopping and while it may seem odd seeing a younger woman shopping for clothes suited for the older woman, no one seems to mind much. Better still I have found a wonderful shop that makes foundation garments in the traditional way and ones that impose some restriction for a woman of my size and age, though I am trying to put on a little more weight to please Dolly. Dolly simply loves it all and, having found a way inside all that elastic and straps and zips and hooks and satin, rewards me generously. Of course not all women – particularly young women – have any desire to wear old-fashioned clothes like I do and I can appreciate that. Women's Lib and new fabrics and ideas in the design of female underwear has gone long way to making women feel more free underneath, and even more accessible. But for me, there was something innately alluring about being trussed up firmly beneath my classic-looking clothes. And even if getting dressed and undressed is a time-consuming event these days at least Dolly is there to be helpful! As you may have expected, I have changed my name: I am Esther Amanda now. Miss Holt saw to that for me. Oh yes, and my grey hair really looks the part now I have started to go to my aunt's hairdressing salon. Dolly sits in her little doll outfits and watches me have my roots done and smiles with pleasure. But then I would do anything for my Dolly. She even nods with approval as the hairstylist who always attended to my aunt takes a little longer with me and slips her hand in my blouse on down my dress to see what I am wearing (though she knows full well) and little Dolly chuckles at me sitting there sighing contentedly as I get felt up by an older woman. Well, the woman who does my hair must be 25 but compared with what I get at home, that's old. But nothing can beat being felt up by a small girl like Dolly. My very own pretty Dolly, loving me with her clever hands and busy tongue. The end |