The Blossoming of a Butterfly
Chapter 1, the early years
By Erika Nicole West
My story begins in 1959, born just a regular kid, ornery as anything, 3 siblings, older sister, older brother and younger brother and raised in a normal household by normal parents. Life was normal, then 1965 hit. I don’t remember exact dates but the weather was warm. I was running around the school yard, as kids do, but this particular day, I deemed it a good day to run with my eyes closed. Well, lo and behold, the next thing I knew I was laying on the ground. I had inadvertently ran into a baseball bat being swung by an older kid! I don’t remember the actual impact but I do remember the results! As I lay there, gazing up, my teacher, my young, beautiful, sexy 1st grade teacher, Mrs Sparks was hovering over me, as well as several other people.
As I stared up, to my disbelief, there, Mrs Sparks, in all her glory, in her dress, as women wore back in those days, was exposing all of her under garments to me. She was wearing a white girdle with clips and the women’s stockings attached to them. I didn’t really think much of it at the time, probably because I was 6 and woozy from the home run blast I had taken to the head. But as I found out later, the story goes on.
Somehow they managed to get me back to the classroom, and to the dismay of my mother, had let me lay my head down on the desk and sleep for the next 2 hours. By that time I was starting to throw up, so they called my mother, who rushed up to the school, she was furious! She immediately took me to the local hospital, where they admitted me. I don’t recall is they actually gave me any treatment or just monitored me, but I continued to throw up for the next day or so. They were about to ship me off to Children’s Hospital when I finally quite puking up my intestines and my condition improved. After a week, I went back home. I was out of school for another week, and it was that week, that is the beginning of the blossoming of a beautiful butterfly!
That week, for reasons unknown for sure, but assumed on my part, were influenced by my wonderful view of the goods of my teacher who I had so admired as a child. So, I decided I wanted to wear those things too, so I proceeded to start wearing my sisters under garments. The first thing I remember wearing was a frilly little full slip, looked like a dress. I’m sure I looked like a lovely little girl in it too, RIGHT! I’m not really sure how many times I wore things back in that day nor how much my mother new about what I wore, but I do remember taking advantage of several opportunities pilfering through my sister’s panty drawer. My favorites were a pair of pink silky ones. I would also try on dresses and what not, but panties were my first and forever love.
Somewhere in the first or second year of my new found love, my mother decided it was time to put her foot down and stop my sickness that my warped, deviant mind had delved into. So, in all of her wisdom, and my mother actually was a very smart and wise person, but we’re talking 1966 here, she decided to try and embarrass me in front of my siblings. She gathered all 4 of us kids around and in front of them, tried to force a pair of my sister’s panties on me, my favorite ones no less. Of course I fought this kicking and screaming and my mother was not successful in her attempt to make me wear the panties in front of my siblings. She also was not successful in embarrassing me enough to quit wanting to wear them in private either. What she was successful in doing though was making me feel guilty enough about what I was doing to always be in hiding whenever I wanted to partake in this activity. So, now, at this point I had another plan.
My plan, instead of putting things on in my sister’s room, was to take things from her room and wear them in my room, then I would conveniently hide them under my mattress where no one in the world could see, or ever find them. They were in my own little safe lock box! This ploy worked until the first time my mother came in to make my bed, and my plan was foiled, the panties disappeared. So, me being as ingenious as I was as a kid, I re-stole my booty from my sister’s drawer and hid them in a place not even my mother would ever think of looking, under the mattress at the OTHER end of the bed! This plan was now perfect! This plan actually did work for a brief period but alas, mom found them again and back into my sister’s exquisite panty drawer they went.
The cross dressing as an adolescent continued on through my childhood years. Now, mind you, this was not an everyday occurrence but one of opportunity and need. I would go through periods of being my normal, ornery self, but then I began the need to feel pretty. As I got older, thing began to change, puberty. I remember I was in 5th grade, I was wearing a white frilly, lacy half slip with built in satiny panties to bed that night. I remember that night like it happened yesterday, I was dreaming about a girl in a lime green bikini at the beach. She was interacting with me, rubbing my back, things like that and all I can remember doing was staring at her. They next thing I know I woke up and I was all wet “down there”. I thought I had wet the bed, which, I embarrassingly admit, happened on occasion until I was 12.
Anyway, I was dumbfounded when I woke up the next morning when I wasn’t wet anymore but it was dried up and crust down there. It wasn’t until a couple years later that I realized that night had been my first wet dream. Kids received no sex education back then, I had no idea any such thing existed. I was so naïve’ as a child, but I would soon educated myself as I got older. I was in 8th grade before I ever masturbated for the first time.
One other event I remember from the 5th-6th grade years. I was laying on my bed, wearing my mothers long black satin nightgown. Yes, I had grown up and doubled my wardrobe by this time, sharing between my mom’s and my sister’s clothes. I was laying there, imagining a guy walking into the room, me laying there on my right side in my best sexual pose. My left leg was bent and my knee drape over my right leg and I actually whispered out loud, loud enough I could here anyway, the words “I’ve been waiting here for you” while imagining this stranger walking into my room. That was the point in my life where I realized I had an interest in guys.