Warning: This is the fourth chapter in a long, sometimes slow, edgy and very kinky incest tale. Each chapter builds on previous chapters. This story contains topics such as small breast fetish, female and male domination/submission, cuckoldry, spanking, voyeurism, exhibitionism, cross-dressing, feminization, panty fetish, sissification, embarrassment/humiliation, masturbation, father/daughter, mother/son, and bi-sexuality. It is not intended to be a "Quick Read", but rather a shocking and detailed look at the way two kinky people find each other, the way their relationship blossoms and the experiences they enjoy and endure.
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When we got out into the mall, Patty steered me toward one of the upscale department stores at the very end of the mall; one of the well known anchor stores. Making our way through the store, we stopped once or twice to look at some dresses and skirts she liked. I saw some thin, gauze-like shirts which would be perfect for Patty to show off her little breast treasures. They had one style that had a low cut neck, but the one I really liked was very form fitting and would almost cling to her body, making her breasts very easy to see and admire by anyone that chose to look. I made a mental note to come back and pick one up for her. She saw the gleam in my eye while I looked at them and I think she was impressed I was thinking of her.
When we passed the Juniors section, there was a rack of tartan skirts on display, some of them red and white, and some of them were blue and white, and they reminded me of school girl or private school uniform skirts. Pulling her over to the rack, I held one up and said "Imagine this about eight inches shorter."
"You Naughty Boy!" She said, turning to slap my arm. "That would be totally indecent to wear."
With a grin on my face, I replied, "You mean deliciously indecent?"
I made another mental note to pick up one or two of these, too. "We're here to buy panties, remember?" She scolded. Then, taking my hand in hers, she made a bee line directly to the lingerie department.
Their lingerie department was nothing short of huge, and it was filled with all kinds of soft, stretchy, lacy and very sexy items. As we entered, the very first thing we came upon was a display of the sheerest bra and panty sets I've ever seen. They were almost transparent. You could even see the nipples of the mannequins showing through. I thought about how Patty's little breasts would look showing through a bra like that and the image in my head was tantalizing.
I stopped in front of the display and looked at Patty. "I like that bra." I said. "I bet your nipples would look extra suckable through one of those."
"Paul," she replied, "In case you haven't noticed, I don't wear bras. I think I might have maybe two at home, but, I almost never wear one."
"But," I answered, "those are so charming. You can see right through them.... I mean, they're sexy and would look so good with those see through panties, and maybe one of those shirts we saw back there..... and one of those school girl skirts."
"I see where this is going." She replied. "Okay," she said, with a smirk on her face, "if you insist, but, for every bra I get, you have to get one, too."
Now, that stopped me cold. Even though I've worn my share of panties, the only time I've ever worn a bra was at the hands of my mother the days she dressed me up as my sister, Sissy. I hadn't told Patty that part of my story yet, but I knew if she wanted to hear the whole account of my Mom and me, it would probably come out. I didn't know if Patty's comment was a test, or if Patty had something else in mind.
Now, just as an aside, I know the implications when a man wears a bra. Panties are one thing, but a bra is a completely different matter. A man might wear panties as a substitute for his regular underwear for many reasons: opportunity, comfort, desire, curiosity, fantasy, excitement, punishment, tradition, or even by request. A man who wears panties can normally protect his secret because his trousers cover them and he can indulge himself without anyone knowing. Basically, a man can wear panties as much as he likes with no impact what so ever to his masculinity. There are historic accounts from ages past to support the fact that a percentage of men definitely wear female underpants. That is a known fact which is indisputable.
A bra on the other hand, is a strictly feminine garment. When a man wears a bra, he is subjugating his masculinity in favor of femininity. What I mean is; a man doesn't put on a bra simply by 'mistake', or without considering the implications. A bra is made for breasts, which are (in most cases) exclusive to the female. So when a man wears a bra, what he's saying is that he's potentially willing to set aside his masculinity temporarily, or in some cases, permanently. One of the first things an experienced dominant female will do to a male submissive is put him in a bra. That makes the male incredibly docile and open to suggestion. The second thing they do is make sure a third party actually sees the man wearing the bra. Once that happens, the man's masculinity has been neutered. True, when the man sheds the bra, his masculinity can return, but, as long as the bra remains on, that submissive male can be trained to think, act and react in ways which are not influenced by his masculinity -- and he'll do so quite willingly.
And, all of that is exactly what was going through my mind just after Patty said "for every bra I get, you have to get one, too." It's a lot to comprehend and process at one time and I must have spaced out while trying to sort through everything after she said it.
"Paul?" Patty said, breaking me out of my trance. "Have you worn a bra before?" She asked.
"Yeah," I answered reluctantly but truthfully, "when my Mom dressed me up."
"Oh, now I'm REALLY going to have to hear the rest of that story!" Patty whispered to me.
"Later." I replied. "I told you, it's a long, long story."
"Well, let's see," Patty mused, "I guess I'm looking for a 32A. Or, actually a 32AA would be better if I can find one, but these stores don't usually carry bras that small."
Looking through the bras to find her size, she turned to me and asked, "What size for you?"
Luckily, there wasn't anyone around us - I looked to make sure. A woman and her daughter were a few racks away, but I don't think they heard her ask me what size bra I would wear. I cringed at the thought of some woman overhearing Patty and I discussing my bra size.
"38." I said softly.
I watched as Patty sorted through the rack, pushing bras back and forth and digging into the back to find matching bras in our sizes. Finally, she found two bras, 32A and 38A, and two panties, an extra small for her and a medium for me. She picked white, but there was yellow and pink, too. I breathed a sign of relief when she didn't pick the pink.
We looked through every table, rack and display of that lingerie department together, and for each pair of panties we got for her, she picked out a matching pair for me, in my size. By the time we were done, we probably had a total of forty pairs of panties for the two of us. She'd picked out a rainbow of colors for us, including many different shades of pink.
