Aggie
by PlatinumIce
Copyright© 2025 by PlatinumIce
Coming of Age Story: Young Aggie Preston reveals her knickers while practicing handstands in front of her older cousin. Another glimpse into the innocent joys of childhood.
Tags: Teenagers Heterosexual
CRASH!
Ian Bradford paused at his computer, glancing up at the ceiling in growing irritation. What the hell was Aggie up to now? He had a research paper due next Monday and she’d been bumping around upstairs all afternoon. The constant pounding was wreaking havoc with his concentration; he’d just written the same paragraph four times. God, he wished he could afford his own apartment. His life had descended into chaos since his precocious young cousin moved in. He turned back to the keyboard, shaking his head in mounting annoyance.
CRASH!!
“HEY!” Ian yelled, almost leaping out of his skin. Another concussion, loud enough to rattle the windows this time. What was going on up there? She couldn’t have been jumping around on the bed again: not even that could’ve have made so much noise (unless the legs gave way, which was entirely possible). Then again, what else could it be? Mom had told her off about that last week, so she should have known better. Evidently, she’d suffered a relapse. Aggie tended to act up whenever Mom wasn’t around to regulate her behavior, particularly when she was seeking attention. Oh well, the hell with it. He had more pressing concerns than playing hall monitor for a hyperactive eight year old. Shifting his chair closer to the computer desk, Ian placed his fingers on the keys and started typing.
A third, catastrophic detonation, shaking the foundations beneath his feet: CRASH!!!
And Ian saw finally red.
Pushing back from the desk, he stood up, saved his file and stalked out towards the staircase. Any more of this and the roof was likely to collapse. Aggie was - without exception - the most exasperating child in the universe. For all her endearing qualities (and there were many), she could be insufferably naughty when it suited her. Well, enough was enough. Time for some direct intervention, so to speak. Ian started up the stairs, heavy brown boots announcing his approach.
Aggie’s quarters were at the far end of the first floor landing, a spacious, skylit bedroom with a slanting attic ceiling and cedar paneling. Ian loped down the hallway, listening for the tell-tale sounds of tortured bedsprings. He drew a deep breath, willing himself to be calm. Truth be told, he didn’t mind her jumping on the mattress, he just wanted her to keep it down to an acceptable level. He strode down to her room and stuck his head in the door.
“Aggie!” he barked, a little louder than he intended.
Framed a hazy shaft of afternoon sunlight, Aggie Preston was a pretty little girl with rose-petal lips and curly blonde hair spilling down to her waist. Her petite, babyish figure was outlined by a red cotton sun frock, so translucent that Ian could see the ghost of her underwear. She was standing before a large cheval mirror (an heirloom passed down from their mutual grandmother) with her arms raised over her head. She looked like a high diver about to catapult from a springboard.
“What’re you doing? You’re making enough noise to wake the dead!”
Aggie lowered her hands and looked over at the door, her face as bright and open as a summer morning.
“I’m practicing,” she told him.
“Practicing? Practicing what?”
“Handstands.”
Yeah, that’d be right, he thought ruefully, serves me right for teaching her how to do forward rolls yesterday. He shook his head incredulously. When would he ever learn? Next it’ll be cartwheels and backflips.
“Why don’t you go practice down in the backyard?”
“I want to watch myself in the mirror,” she replied, gesturing towards the cheval, “only I can’t because my dress keeps getting in the way.”
Ian rubbed his temples in disbelief. Was that why she’d been thumping around like a goddam elephant for the past two hours? Surely not.
“Well, put some shorts on, then.”
“But I want to see what I look like wearing the dress.”
“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” Ian commented wearily. The conversation was getting loopier by the second. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Five thousand words due next Monday and here he was, talking gobbledygook with an eight year old. No, sorry - an eight year old who likes turning handstands in front of the mirror. Wearing a dress.
Aggie lifted her hands over her head once again.
“Can you watch me to see if I’m doing it right?” she asked, oblivious to the mayhem she’d wrought in his work schedule. That was Aggie Preston all over. Not content with simply ruining his afternoon, she expected him to stand around praising her gymnastic abilities to the skies. All the same, Ian felt inclined to capitulate for the time being. She’d probably lose interest if he indulged her whims for a few minutes. He sat down on the bed, resigning himself to the inevitable.
“OK. Show me what you’ve got.”
Aggie turned back toward the mirror, paused for several seconds, then dropped over onto her palms. Her dress fluttered inside out, allowing Ian a generous view of her fresh, white underpants. She arched her spine for balance, feet waving precariously in mid-air. Ian noted her locked elbows, the subtle curve of her belly. Not bad, for a beginner. She held her legs up for about five seconds, then fell back on to her feet.
“How was I?” she asked, eyebrows raised enquiringly. Her dress was still rucked up over one hip, holding on by a thread and a promise. A sliver of cheeky white panty peeked out from under the scarlet hem. Ian didn’t bother trying to cover it up; the lesson wasn’t finished yet.
“Not bad,” he replied fairly enough, “but you’re supposed to keep your feet together when you go up into your stance.”
“Into my stance?” she asked uncertainly.
“When you’re upside down,” he explained, reminding himself how young she was. Aggie’s face lit up with understanding.
“Oh, right. Like this,” she said, and sailed over once more. Her skirt fell across her face, hanging almost to the floor. Pristine cotton panties went on open display, tightly stretched across her pudgy, round bottom. Aggie wavered at the height of her arc for maybe two seconds then started to topple backwards toward the bed. Ian caught her in his arms before she hit the floor.
“That’s better,” he nodded, setting her back on her feet, “just don’t come crashing down that way. Feels like an earthquake.”
“I want to try again,” she chirped eagerly, “can you hold my legs, Ian?”
“Yeah, OK,” he agreed, rising laboriously from the bed, “come over here.” His academic responsibilities were swept aside in the torrent of Aggie’s excitement. She had that effect on everybody. Reaching down, he took her under the arms and hoisted her up to his shoulder. She wrapped her legs around his waist, eyes glittering with innocent pleasure.
“Lean backwards and put your hands on the floor,” Ian instructed, lowering her carefully towards the carpet. Her frock began to invert, exposing her creamy thighs as gravity snatched at the hemline. Ian glanced down to make sure she was bracing herself properly. Her panties were trimmed with pink lace.
“You ready down there?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” she piped back, voice shrill with expectation.
“All right, here we go.”
Holding her firmly by the ankles, Ian dangled Aggie upside-down facing the mirror, then allowed her to take some of her own weight. Careful to maintain his grip, he paused to check her stance. The reflection showed a little girl standing on her hands with her legs slightly apart. Her frock was trailing on the floor, completely covering her arms and head and upper body. Ian floated his gaze over her smooth tummy, her glaring white panties, her supple thighs. The dress continued inching southward, exposing more of her ivory flesh. An impudent little belly button pouted out of an alabaster torso. By this time, Ian was completely engrossed; all thought of his impending assignment had vanished from his mind.
“OK,” he said, “bring your feet together. And point your toes at the ceiling.”
“Like this?”
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