Gram Calls Me Ruth Part 2

Grandma and I spent all morning going over makeup dos and don’ts, hair, and clothes. Gram had laid out a matching bra and panties set, white thigh-high stockings, and a floral sundress.

I stood naked before grandma, covering my boy parts with my hands. Grandma used an adhesive to attach my breast forms. I put on the bra and nearly fainted when I looked in the mirror. “They’re not even,” I exclaimed.

“They aren’t supposed to be even,” she reprimanded me. Then she cupped her own, “mine sure as heck have never been.”

I blushed. Grandma then brought over something that looked like an athletic supporter. She told me to stand on the chair facing the mirror. She took her cloth measuring tape and measured the distance between my legs. “Since last summer I have done some research on tucking,” grandma explained, “Do you know what tucking is?”

I nodded yes.

“I think you should try it,” grandma reasoned.

She had cut three strips of cloth from one of the sleeves of an old shirt and sewed it to an elastic band, thus making a sort of hammock. Grandma started to move my hands away from my groin.

“Hold on Gram,” I cried out and almost stepped off the chair, “what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to help,” Grandma said earnestly. “Some girls say you need to push your little berries up first.”

“Who says?” I asked not believing I was having this conversation with my grandmother.

“The girls in the videos online,” Grandma explained.

It took me a moment to wrap my head around the fact that my grandmother had been watching DIY tucking videos. Once I recovered, I asked, “can I see these videos?”

My grandmother scowled at me, “grammar, Ruth, grammar.”

“May I,” I corrected myself, “see them?”

“Of course,” she said, standing to leave the room. Moments later, she returned with her tablet.

We watched several and they were very informative. Grandma really was trying to help but things went wrong almost from the start. Too many hands in such a small area, I think.

The result was that after 30 minutes we were both frustrated and I was a bit sore down there. “OK, Gram,” I said frankly, “I’m going to try one more time and if it doesn’t work then I think we should forget this for now.”

“That seems fair,” agreed grandma, “many of the girls did say it takes a bit of practice.”

I took a deep breath and as if by magic everything slipped into place. I smiled at Grandma and said, “I think I’ve done it.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I replied impatiently, “quick, grab one of those gaffs.”

“Don’t you want to try the tape first?” grandma asked.

“No,” I responded trying to keep my voice ladylike. It didn’t work. Grandma gave me a critical look. “Sorry, Gram,” I said through gritted teeth. “What I meant to say is no thank you.” Grandma seemed mollified, so I went on, “let’s try the gaffe first, please.”

“Now that’s better,” grandma complimented me as she lifted the gaffe like the lady on the video had done. “Is that too tight?”

I pulled my hand out and prayed everything stayed where it was supposed to. It did. With a triumphant grin, I looked down at grandma and said, “I think we’ve got it.”

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” she asked.

“It feels weird,” I admitted, “but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” grandma remarked.

I very carefully got off the chair afraid I would come springing out at any moment. I walked over to the bed and very carefully stepped into the panties grandma had laid out for me. I turned to her desperate for reassurance. I asked, “how does it look?”

“Oh my,” grandma put her hands to her face, “you look great.”

I moved closer to her, “really?”

Grandma gave me a turn-around gesture. I turned. “It looks perfect,” she said enthusiastically, “I can’t see anything.”

Grandma’s face turned gloomy. “What’s wrong?” I asked a little scared.

“We are going to have to get you some new swimming suits,” grandma said starting to smile, “I only got ones with skirts. I assumed they would be the best, but now that we know we can hide your, you know, we will have to get you some more girly ones.”

I couldn’t contain my joy any longer. I took both of her hands in mine and started bouncing up and down. I could not wait to see how it felt to wear a bikini. Thankfully, the gaffe held. Which made me even happier. Grandma walked over to my bed and brought me my dress. “There will be plenty of time for shopping later,” grandma said as I finished dressing, “now, let’s go downstairs and see what else you remember about being a girl.”

Twenty minutes later, grandma was sitting on the living room sofa watching me walk around the room and shaking her head. “If you had taken a blow to the head, you would have told me, right?” Gram asked pinching the bridge of her nose. “Or surely your mom would have said something?”

“What?” I asked.

Gram covered her frowning face with her hands. When she removed them, she was all smiles again, “It’s Just that it seems like you have forgotten everything I taught you last summer,” grandma explained.

“I’m sorry Gram,” I apologized and resumed walking, “I’m just so distracted.”

“By what, child?”

“Mom.” I confessed, “I’m just so worried about mom. I mean I know she said she was OK with this but it seemed like it was all she could do to get me off the phone the other day.”

“Your mother was never good with change,” grandma said patting the cushion next to her. “She just needs some time.”

I came over to the sofa and sat. When I sat, it was with an erect posture and both legs together. I then pulled the hem of my dress down to ensure my panties were covered. I then held my chin perpendicular to the floor and didn’t speak. Grandma smiled and said, “well you at least remember how to sit.”

“Thank you, Gram, and might I say how lovely you look today?” I responded in a falsetto that made my voice sound girly. Gram got up and pulled me back to my feet.

“OK,” she looked me over, “you remembered how to speak like a girl too. How is your curtsy.”

I curtsied.

Grandma clapped politely, “well done.”

“Thank you,” I said as I curtsied again.

“OK,” grandma said, “don’t get cocky.”

“I would never dream of doing that, Gram,” I responded deadpan.

Gram walked over to the bookshelf and came back with a thick book. She placed it upon my head and ordered, “march.”

I started walking. I managed to keep the book on my head, but grandma criticized my walk with almost every step. “Shorter strides…move your hips more…glide more…now you’re moving your hips too much…that’s it…better…if that book falls, you’ll be cleaning the kitchen with a toothbrush.”

“That’s not much of a threat, Gram,” I fired back, “your kitchen is already cleaner than most operating rooms.”

“Thank you for the compliment, young lady,” grandma said beaming, then the drill Sergeant returned, “I didn’t say stop.”

After another dozen circuits around the room, she called a halt to my strolling, “Stop, halt,” grandma said throwing her hands up in mock annoyance, “You’re making me dizzy.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, gram,” I said.

“So, it would seem you finally, remember how to walk,” grandma said as she took my hand and put it on her shoulder. She then took my other hand and called out, “Hey Alexia, play Come Away with Me.” She then turned to me and said, “Let’s see if you remember how to dance?”

We waltzed around the living room and then did a fox trot into the dining room. We did a two-step around the kitchen and cha cha-ed back to the living room. How High the Moon began to play and grandma and I danced slowly arm in arm.

“Thanks, Gram,” I said a little choked up.

“For what?”

“Everything,” I answered.

The doorbell rang and grandma exclaimed, “Who, could that be?”

Grandma went to the door and I sat down on the sofa. Grandma then returned with a package in her hand. “I have something here for a Miss Ruth Green from a Miss Susan Green,” grandma announced.

I grabbed the package and began to tear it open. In the package was a box. In the box was a set of butterfly earrings made with a rainbow of gemstones. I looked at the handwritten card and began to weep. Grandma took the card out of my hand and read it aloud, “Dear Ruth, I saw these and thought of you. Butterflies are a symbol of transformation. Love, Mom.”