Pretty Like My Sisters

"I think I might tell Andrea and Emily. I'm going to have to tell Katey, at some point, but I don't know if I could ever tell Mom." Sarah nodded her agreement.

"There," she said, proudly, "your gross hair is now, for the first time in ages, semi-clean." I laughed. While I had kept my hair long, I didn't bother to wash it nearly enough. Sarah helped my out of the tub. Showing me how to wrap a towel around my hair, as well as one around my chest, rather than around my waist, as I was used to. She had me sit at the vanity, eyes closed, as she began to curl my now orderly hair. After about half an hour, Sarah let my open my eyes. I almost gasped. My light brown hair hung around my face in soft, bouncy curls. I couldn't believe it. I usually just wore it in a ponytail, tied in the back with a rubber band. But, now, with it framing my face, I began to feel very... pretty. It was nice. I dropped my towel, and re donned the black lace bra and panties, with the white lace and little white bows. As I examined my appearance in the mirror, with my pretty underwear, and beautifully done hair, I looked excellent. But, my eyes were drawn to my flat chest. There was nothing I could do about that. Sarah followed my eyes and realized what I was thinking. She disappeared into the big closet that she and my other sisters shared, and emerged a moment later, carrying two silicon breasts.

"Where did you get those from?" I asked.

"Well," began Sarah, "These were Andreas. She didn't develop boobs until she was almost your age, so, she used these." We both giggled for a moment, looking at the realistic, B or C cup breasts. "But," Sarah added, "Don't tell her I told you that." I inserted them into the bra. They gave me a perky B-cup. That was more than sufficient. With a person of my size, having tits any bigger would've looked fake. I posed in the mirror for a few minutes. Except for the small bulge in the front of my panties, I was almost passable as a girl. "What am I supposed to call you now?" Asked Sarah. "I can't call you Everett when you look this good." I thought back to our childhood games. There was the name that Andrea had chosen for me. It was the name that I loved, but pretended I hated. It was the name that I called myself, when I was alone.