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JournalJournalCHAPTER I – THE DEVELOPING TEENHi. I’m Chrissy Parsomes. Many boys like myself got theirstart wearing girl’s clothes by stumbling into cross dressing byaccident. Many tried on their sister’s clothes when the familywas away from the house, or dressed as a girl for a Halloweenmasquerade party. My introduction to dressing came in a moreinsidious fashion. To make a long story short, my step-motherdecided that she preferred to have a daughter instead of a son,and in one year, she and her sister converted me from a boy to a12 year-old girl. Here’s how it happened.For most of my school career, I attended a small, privateschool in NYC. My mother was a noted archaeologist, and didn’tspend much time with the family. Most of the time, she spentmonths on end, digging in Africa for artifacts. My father was amild mannered secretary, and didn’t have a lot of parentingskills. As a result, mom enrolled me in this residential privateschool beginning in third grade. I usually saw my parents twice ayear during Christmas and summer vacations.During the fall of my eighth grade year, my father shockedthe family by announcing that he decided to divorce my mother tomarry Mrs. Locke, his boss at the company. I had met Ms. Locke afew times when I had to get report cards signed, and knew her tobe a dominant woman whose sickeningly sweet persona seemed toenvelope everyone who came into contact with her. Strange to say,it almost seemed like she treated everyone like a ten year oldgirl. “Sweetie this”, and “honey that”, she always commented howbeautiful my eyelashes were, or how attractive my school uniformlooked. Although I didn’t relish the thought of having this womanas a step-mother, I was sort-of excited about the prospect ofbeing treated in a feminine manner.Ever since I was eight years old, I had harbored secretdesires to live life as a girl. I spent October break of thatyear at my paternal grandmother’s apartment, since my parents hadbeen called out of town to a big anthropology convention. Shelived in a big high rise in central Manhattan. Since Halloweenhappened to fall on that particular weekend, my grandmother hadaccepted an invitation on my behalf to attend a costume party atone of her neighbor’s apartments. When my grandmother indicatedthat she didn’t have time to get me a costume, her lady friendtold my grandmother that her daughter had some pretty partydresses that would probably fit me, and that I could come dressedas a little girl. My grandmother thought this was a great idea,and borrowed everything that I would need to make thetransformation complete, Pink nylon panties, white lace trimmedanklets, Mary Jane shoes, rhumba over-panties with ruffles, afluffy bouffant slip with a form-fitting elastic top, and apretty pink satin party dress with long sheer sleeves and a pinkribbon sash that tied in the back. Although I was a bitapprehensive about dressing in the clothes of the opposite sex,my grandmother convinced me how wonderful it would be. We spentthe whole afternoon before the party playing dress up, completewith makeup, hair curlers, and fingernail polish. As soon as Idonned the first pair of nylon panties, I knew that I wanted tobe a girl. As a result, I had a great time at the party. I made aperfect specimen of a little girl, and no one figured out on thetrip over that I was a boy dressed in little girl’s clothing. Since this dress up session was our little secret, I never toldmy mom or dad about it, though the experience remained in theforefront of my dreams for years after. Soon after, mygrandmother passed away, thus putting an end to any possibilityof wearing girl’s clothes in the foreseeable future. When everpossible, I tried on my mother’s panties and slips, but theexperience wasn’t the same. My mother was an avowed feminist, andwore utilitarian cotton underwear. She never wore a bra orstockings, so I had to make do with what was available. As aresult, I didn’t have much of a chance to do anything about mywishes to learn to be a girl.Weird things started to happen as soon as I arrived home forthe Christmas break. Mrs. Locke (she refused to give up hermaiden name) refused to allow me to get my usual haircut. Shesaid that my hair was much too beautiful to cut, and that Ishould start to wear it long. She required that I wash andcondition it every day, and keep it neatly styled. Every morning,she brushed my hair into what to me looked like a girl’s style,and gave it a light coating with hair spray to keep it in place.Occasionally, she even placed a few curlers in my hair at nightto “help keep the hair out of my eyes.” I wanted to object,because my feminine desires had been a secret between mygrandmother and I, but I had a feeling that her sweet feminineexterior masked a dislike for males that could make my lifedifficult during the coming summer. Wanting to start myrelationship with my step-mom off on the right foot, I acquiescedto her demands.Due to my stressful academic life, I had always been a nailbiter. As soon as she noticed me nibbling on my fingers, shedemanded that I stop biting my nails, To help with this new rule,she began to manicure my nails, and kept them coated with clearpolish “to keep them from chipping.” Soon my nails resembledthose of many of the girls in my class. Even my evening attirechanged. Pajamas were out. In their place, I found Lanz flannelnightgowns to wear (she called them sleep shirts). Former vacations were spent hanging around with the guysfrom the old neighborhood. This vacation however, it seemed likeevery minute of the day was spent shopping for girl’s clothes forMrs. Locke’s many nieces, and I often had to hold the pendingpurchases while she looked for other items. This was great.Before, the closest I ever got to girl’s clothing was passingthrough the department on the way to the boy’s section. Now I wasable to closely examine the beginner bras, slips and dresses.Although I was excited to be able to touch such items again, Iwould have died if this had become public knowledge. Therefore itwas very embarrassing to be asked to hold dresses up against mybody, or to choose which color leotard my cousin Nancy wouldlike. Soon though, it happened so many times that I wasn’t evenembarrassed to carry nylon, ruffled panties, tights or slips tothe register for payment.The worst part of the whole deal came about when shesuddenly took me out of my old boarding school, and registered meat a place that I had never heard of called the Petite FilleAcademy. Not only did I have to spend my last week of vacationfilling out reams of paperwork, but I also had to go for aphysical exam with the school physician.After the usual array of questions, followed by the typicaltests that one expects during such an exam, the doctor told mystep-mother that I was suffering from a serious vitamindeficiency, and that starting immediately, she would have to putme on a year long, vitamin treatment program. The doctor gave mean injection right there in the office, and handed my mother aprescription for vitamins to be filled at the school pharmacy.The vitamins were unlike anything I had ever seen. They lookedlike big purple footballs.I entered my new school at the end of January, and settledinto a routine not completely different from my old school. ThePetite Fille Academy was a former girls finishing school, thatdecided to admit boys. Although a coed school now, most of thestudents were girls. The few boys, if you could call them that,looked like hippies, with long hair, and fair features. Most woreclothes that looked more like girl’s slacks and blouses than boyspants. No football players, or jocks here. All seemed effeminateto varying degrees. School uniforms were gray slacks and whiteshirts for the boys, and navy blue pleated skirts, white tights,white shiny blouses and black mary janes for the girls. If itwasn’t for the girl’s skirts, I wouldn’t be able to tell thedifference between the girls and many of the boys.Despite my adoption of a routine, the change of sceneryseemed to prompt a similar change in my personality. Despitetaking the vitamins every day, I felt sort of weak, and quite abit laid back. I originally missed the fact that PF Academylacked soccer, baseball and track, but after three weeks at theschool, I rarely thought about these male activities any more. Iactually began to enjoy the home ec, dance and baton twirlingclasses. I was spending a lot of time hanging around with thegirls on my hall, and soon fit in with the group as one of thegirls. Talking about boyfriends, makeup and fashions was muchmore interesting than sports, or cars.Before I knew it, summertime rolled around, and I wasexcited about the prospect of seeing all of my old friends backin New York. Unfortunately, my step mother had other ideas. Assoon as I arrived home, she told me that I was going to spend thesummer at her sister’s house in San Francisco, and that I wouldbe flying out of JFK the next morning. The next morning, I discovered that Mrs. Locke had alreadypacked my suitcase, and while she had packed toiletries, a Lanznightshirt, and a few other items, she neglected to include allof my clothes. For some reason, I had gained a lot of weight inthe hips that semester, and nothing seemed to fit. I told my stepmom before I arrived home about this weight gain, and she told menot to worry. She promised to take me shopping as soon as I gothome. When I asked about the missing clothes, she told me thatsince nothing fit, there was no point in carrying clothes on theplane. My aunt would take me shopping when I arrived inCalifornia.CHAPTER II – CALIFORNIA CHANGESWhen I arrived in California, Ms. Locke’s sister picked meup at the airport. Aunt Clara was the same age and had the samebuild as my step mother, but was considerably more domineering. Iquickly learned that she didn’t like boys very much, and was onlyletting me stay with her to give her sister a break from c***dcare chores. She informed me that she didn’t want me hangingaround all summer, so she had already arranged for me to get asummer job working for a friend of hers. She had alreadyscheduled an interview during the next afternoon, and warned menot to blow it. She told me that if I gave her any aggravation, Imight find myself in summer school instead of on vacation.Needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled, but went along with herdemands. I figured a job was a lot better than summer school. Iasked her when we could go shopping for clothes for me to wear,but she indicated that the shopping trip could wait. Her friendwould provide me with a uniform for work time, and she had a fewthings that would fit me in the interim.The next morning, Aunt Clara took me downtown for myinterview, which happened to be at a Doctor’s office. Dr JenniferNelson was a friend of Aunt Clara’s and needed someone to dobasic office work, and filing. Although Dr. Nelson kept asking mea lot of questions about my skills, and experience, I got thesense that the interview was just a formality. At the end of ourmeeting, she offered me the job, and told me to show up tomorrow,at 9:00 AM sharp. While I was putting on my jacket, Dr. Nelsontold my aunt that she could pick up my uniforms at the Angels ofMercy uniform shop down the street. Her secretary would take careof phoning in the style and size information so that the orderwould be ready that afternoon.CHAPTER III – MY NEW UNIFORMThe next morning, my aunt woke me up at 5:00 AM to get me readyfor my first day at work. My aunt told me that she wanted me tolook very attractive for my new boss, and that she had picked upeverything I needed when she paid for the uniforms during theprior afternoon. After climbing out of my nightshirt, my aunt ledme to a bubbly, lilac scented bath of steaming water. After agood soak, my aunt washed and conditioned my hair, and thenpicked up a pink girl’s razor. She told me that the new uniformswere very expensive and made of a very delicate fabric that wouldpull if I didn’t have smooth skin. Despite my fantasies of beinga girl, I had never had any part of my body shaved. When I pulledmy legs away from her, she grabbed them and told me that shedidn’t spend all that money on clothes to have me ruin them thefirst week. Within five minutes, my legs and underarms weresmooth and shiny, and I was out of the tub drying myself with afluffy pink towel. When I was dried off, my aunt wrapped my hairin a towel so she could make it ‘look nice’ after I got dressed,hung the wet bath towel over the rod, and stood me on the bathmat. I began to protest when she grabbed the scented, women’sbody powder, but she began dusting me with the sweet smellingpowder anyway. In a tone that indicated that she rapidly losingpatience with me, she said that perspiration would also ruin theuniform, and that the powder and extra strong deodorant wouldhelp to keep me dry. When I told her that I would prefer straightbaby powder and men’s deodorant, she snapped that she wouldn’twaste the money to buy me special toiletries when I was leavingin three months. Her things would have to do.She coated my underarms with her deodorant, and told me tokeep my arms up while the feminine lotion dried. She went intothe adjoining bedroom to get what I thought was my only pair ofboy’s underpants.When she returned, I couldn’t believe what she held in herhand. Panties! She walked over to the padded dressing benchacross from the tub in the bathroom, and proceeded to lay out abrand new pair of nylon girl’s panties, a package of shimmerywhite tights, a satin girl’s vest, and a boxed control brief forteenagers. I backed up toward the wall, and proceeded to tell herthat there was no way I was going to wear girl’s underwear. Itold her that women’s toiletries were one thing, but girl’sundies were another.”I wouldn’t be caught dead in clothes like those” I said.”Well you don’t have a choice deary! Dr. Nelson’s choice ofuniform material necessitates underthings that are slippery andshiny to avoid pulls and wrinkles. If you try to wear the uniformwith boy’s things, it’ll ruin the expensive material. Besides,you have to interface with the public in your new job, and willhave to look your best. You can’t look your best with a wrinkly,poorly fitting uniform.””Why couldn’t we take it back?” I asked “and exchange it formore durable material?””Because” she glared with her hands on her hips, “Dr. Nelsonpicked out the uniform herself, and that is what she wants you towear. Besides, it’s too late to do anything about it right now. You have to get to work.”She picked up the white panties, and began removing thetags. The panties were cut very high on the leg opening, and hada small, triangular shaped, lace panel on the front. The materialwas almost satin-like in quality, and as my Aunt guided my feetinto the openings and slid them up my smooth legs, the softmaterial caused my penis to begin to get bigger. “See, that’s whyyou need to wear a girdle dear” she giggled. “We can’t have thatbulging out of your pants.” She tucked my penis down between mylegs and finished pulling the panties up to my waist. I thoughtthat my weight gain would make me difficult to fit, but Idiscovered that the panties fit perfectly. Although I was veryembarrassed standing in front of my Aunt in a pair of prettypanties, I suddenly realized how nice they looked and feltagainst the hips, made chubby by the starchy school food. Thehigh cut leg opening showed a lot of my leg, and the stretchysatin really made my bottom look….well….pretty. A smile creptover my face as I surveyed myself in the mirror.”Enough admiration dear. We have a lot to do.”She led me away from the mirror and over to the bench. Isuddenly noticed something interesting. The stern, domineeringdemeanor that initially characterized her attitude that morninghad melted into a doting, mother hen-type personality, thatseemed to increase with every garment that I put on. Instructingme to put my hands over my head, she picked up the white, satinvest and lowered it over my clean shaven body. The edges of thevest were lined with a small, frilly lace, and a shiny bowadorned the bodice at the neckline. She tucked the end of thevest into my panties, and sat me down on the bench. She nextpicked up the white tights and began removing them from thepackage.Aunt Clara said that shimmery tights were a lot shinier thanplain stockings, which would help keep my uniform nice and new.She took the white garment from the package, rolled up a leg andplaced the toe over my arched extended foot. She helped me to myfeet, and soon the stretchy top covered my pretty white panties.”Don’t you love the way pretty stockings make your legs lookso shapely? That’s why girls wear them dear. You’re going to lookfantastic in your uniform.””Yes Aunty” I replied like some zombie from a late nighthorror film. The material did indeed glisten in the light fromthe vanity mirror. I felt like I was in a dream world. The sweetaroma of the bath powder coupled with the soft caresses of my newunderthings took away all of the misgivings I had about dressingup in front of my aunt. I suddenly looked forward to trying on mynew uniform and joining the ranks of the working world as a youngwoman.”I know you do dear. You just wait to see how much fun weare going to have in the next couple of months. I know you’ll behappy that you decided to stay with Aunty Clara. Now then, letstry on your first girdle.”She looked at me with a wry look on her face. “I rememberwhen my mother bought me my first girdle. Normally girls your agedon’t start wearing girdles until they are teenagers. Your onlyeleven right?”I nodded, transfixed by her voice.”I am sure that your mother wouldn’t mind you starting earlythough. This is so pretty and will give you such a nice smoothoutline under your uniform. See, it’s designed especially foryoung teenagers just like you!” She took out the garment, andhanded me the now empty box.I blushed when I looked at the picture of the teenaged girlmodeling the girdle. She too was wearing stockings, but she alsowas wearing lots of makeup and a girl’s bra over her young,developing figure.The box read:”The perfect first panty girdle for today’s modern teen.”It was written as if the advertising women were talking to ateen’s mother or aunt.”Helps her stay smooth under all of her fashions. Satinfront panel gives firm support to the just developing figure.Lycra spandex blend provides cool, comfortable support in school,at home or out on the town. Ideal for p*****ns just starting toshow.”I giggled nervously.”Maybe I need to start wearing a bra too?” I looked sweetlyinto her eyes as she removed the tags from the girl’s girdle.”Tsk Tsk Tsk. I really don’t think you’re quite ready for abra yet dear. After all, boys don’t have much to put into one!”I suddenly awakened from my dreamy state, and rememberedthat I was a boy dressed in panties and tights. I felt veryembarrassed with the comment and tears started coming to my eyes.”It’s ok dear. Don’t cry honey.” She put her arms around meand buried my face in the nylon of her lacy blouse.”All boys would love to do what you are doing, but they justdon’t get the chance. I promise that I’ll take you shopping for abra when you’re ready.”Her smile made me relax, even though I couldn’t tell if shewas k**ding or being serious. On one hand, I wanted to fantasizewhat it would feel like to be the girl on the box, wearing asatiny training bra. On the other hand, I was a boy, and wasgoing along with this uniform to stay out of summer school. Sheturned to me with the girdle in her hand and lifted my chin.”Would you someday like to play dress up with Aunty, and wear adress like a real girl? Maybe then Aunty can teach you aboutmakeup, hair styling, slips, and dresses. Would you like thatdear?” Her gaze melted into my heart. I nodded, wiping the tearsfrom my eyes.”I’ll bet you’d look beautiful in a pretty petticoat andheels.” She dropped my chin and held up the new girdle, andsquatted down next to me. “Anyway, we have to get moving if we’renot going to be late. Step into the legs dear.”I did what I was told, and soon, the tight, elastic garmentwas in place covering my male appendage. With the girdle, therewas no bump or bulge to give away the fact that I was a boy ingirl’s clothes. Despite the fact that many of the girls in theupper grades of my school always complained about the girdlesthat were mandatory attire for female students over the age of13, I enjoyed the feeling of security that the garment provided.My cute buns that suddenly chubbed out during the last year atschool, looked firm and toned under the white elastic. I secretlyhoped that I would be able to wear my new girdle all summer, evenunder my boy’s clothes. It was almost as if she read my mind. “Now then. There’senough underthings in your dresser to carry you for the week.There’s no point in buying any boy’s underwear since you will nothave a need for it five days out of seven. You’ll have to wearyour panties and vest on weekends. You don’t mind do you?”I was back under her spell. “No ma’am. Can I wear my girdletoo?”She responded “Of course dear. I didn’t buy socks for you soyou’ll have to wear tights. Tights stay up so much better with agirdle. Next summer, you’ll be old enough to wear a girdle withgarters and stockings just like Aunty. Besides you have to keepworking on that figure!” She laughed as she led me out into thebed room. She sat me down on the bed, picked up the dry cleaningbag, and unzipped the plastic covering. That’s when I got myfirst look at my uniform.Dr. Nelson choice was obviously designed for a girl. Theslacks were white polyester like those worn by most nurses. Theyzipped and buttoned in the back, and had been tailored to mywaist measurement since there was no elastic in the waistband.The top was a plain, white polyester blouse, with buttons in theback. The material was very similar to the nylon on the front ofmy panty girdle, all shiny and slippery. My aunt unbuttoned theblouse, and after helping me into the sleeves, buttoned up theback. Unfortunately, there was a problem.”Hmm. This won’t do at all. I can see your vest rightthrough the thin fabric of the blouse, and it looks terrible. Thevest is too clingy. You look like a little girl. I guess you’llhave to borrow one of my camisoles. She left the room, and soon,returned with a plain nylon camisole with spaghetti straps. Offcame the blouse and vest, and on went the camisole.”Much better dear” as she buttoned up the blouse again. “Fornow you can borrow mine, but this afternoon, I will pick you up afew at the store.”Next came the slacks, which she helped me pull up over myhips. When zipped and buttoned, the slacks fit over my chubbyhips like a glove.”These slacks fit you much better than your boy’s jeans. Youhave hips just like a teenage girl.” She picked up the whitenurses shoes and began lacing them up onto my feet. She noticedmy blushing embarrassed look and took my hand.”Don’t be embarrassed dear. All members of this family havebig hips. There’s no real difference between boys jeans andjunior jeans, except in the hip area. You really should wearwhat’s comfortable. Don’t you agree that you do fit better inthese slacks?”I nodded my head. She stepped behind me and put her hands onmy hips.”See, they hug your hips smoothly, but also fit your smallerwaist. Boy’s jeans are the same width from the hips up. Your ownpants are tight in the hips and baggy in the waist. You even toldme yourself.”She took me by the hand and led me over to her dressingtable. After a bit of hair spray, some work with a curling iron,and some powder and blush for my cheeks (to absorb oil andprevent acne she said), she pronounced me ready for work. Weclimbed into the car, and drove me to the office promising topick me up by 5:00 PM.CHAPTER IV – FINALLY WORKINGWhen Dr. Nelson arrived, she immediately complemented me onmy uniform and overall dress. She told me that my aunt had done agreat job with me, and that I looked very professional for myfirst day of work. I commented that I thought I looked toofeminine, but she reassured me that all medical office helpdressed this way. She said that it calmed the patients. She evencomplemented me on my camisole indicating that it looked morestylish than girlish.Soon I was busy at work, greeting patients, sorting files,and stuffing envelopes with bills. By the end of the day, I hadalready become a functional part of the office staff. All of thesecretaries and other nurses agreed that I was a perfect additionto the office. The good news was that by the end of the day, Iwas on a first name basis with everyone. The bad news was thatthe chief secretary had introduced me as Chrissy to a patient,and the name stuck. After trying to straighten out the mistake, Ifinally gave in, and started introducing myself as Chrissy.My regime of vitamin taking continued. By this time, Dr.Nelson had taken over my therapy, and along with administeringthe shots, advised continuation with the pills.Things were also changing at Aunt Clara’s house. When I gothome from work, I would change out of my uniform, and help Auntycook dinner. Then after washing the dishes, my aunt wouldmanicure my nails (to make sure they were presentable to thepublic).”Dirty chipped nails are not sanitary in a doctor’s office”she said, and would spend 1/2 hour per night removing cuticles,filing nails, and applying two coats of clear nail polish as aprotector. I kept my nails long on account of my step mother’sattempts to stop my nail biting, so by the end of the week, mynails were as long any woman’s.When I asked Aunt Clara to cut them, she forbid me to touchmy nails because I would surely mess them up, and told me shewould cut them in time. “Besides” she said, “office girls needlong nails to work with all that paper. You do want them toconsider you to be one of the girls don’t you?” As a result, mylong nails stayed.CHAPTER V – FROM BOY TO GIRLThat Sunday night offered the first inkling that my aunt wastrying to change me into a girl. All week, I had been wearing myLanz night shirt to bed, and lately had noticed that the flannelfelt weird against my shaved skin. The cotton really itched, andI couldn’t get to sleep. I complained to my aunt about it, and onWednesday, she bought me some pink cotton panties, hoping thatthe soft cotton would reduce the irritation. It didn’t work. Theyfelt canlı bahis şirketleri too much like my boy’s underpants.By Sunday night, my aunt had lost all patience with me. Mytossing and turning all week had kept my aunt from getting a goodnight sleep, and my her domineering attitude had returned inspades. After a thorough bath, leg shaving, and powdering, shesat me down in my panties and nightgown and began to work on mynails. That’s when the problems started.”Did you get the clear polish that I asked you to pick upwhen you went to the d**g store?.” She stopped filing and lookedup at me.I looked at her blankly and responded “What polish? You onlytold me to get Kleenex and Shampoo.” After last night’s dinner,my aunt had sent me to the local d**g store.”I told you to get clear polish for your nails. I used thelast of it yesterday, and told you to pick up some more. How didyou forget?” I sensed that she was getting angry.”I’m sorry aunty. I didn’t mean to forget. I’ll walk overtomorrow after work to pick some up.””So what am I suppose to put on your nails tonight, dearie?Unreal! Sometimes boys can be so stupid!” She looked up at mewith disgust.”Well, nothing I guess. Tonight we can skip the polish andI’ll be extra careful not to break a nail.” I sensed that I hadbetter find a way to quickly end this argument.”And ruin a week’s worth of my work? You really are stupid.I’m not going to let you out of this chair until you have a coaton those nails.”A sinister smirk crossed her face. “I guess I’ll have to usePink.” She reached for a bottle of Marvelous Mauve polish andgrabbed my hand.”Please aunty, I’ll be the laughingstock of the office. Ican’t wear pink. Please!””Pink will match your beautiful new pink blouse I bought youthis afternoon. A femme boy like you will love it. It has lacearound the collar and is very see through. All the women will beable to see your new camisole!. You’ll be so pretty when you goto work on Monday! Now hold still or I’ll send you to work in adress.”She locked my hand to the table, and soon, all tenfingernails and toe nails were painted a beautiful shade of pink.When they were dry, she sent me up to my room to get ready forbed.Then things got worse. That evening, my cotton nightgownreally felt uncomfortable. For some reason, my breasts were verysensitive. Perhaps it was due to the extra-close shaving that myaunt performed on my body, or perhaps I was upset over thefeminine manicure. I kept tossing and turning and couldn’t fallasleep.After yelling at me three times to quiet down, Aunt Clarafinally lost her temper. Turning on the lights, she stormed intothe room.”Well sissy boy. Don’t like your night shirt hmm? Wellperhaps nightshirts are too masculine for sissies like you!”She jerked me out of bed onto the floor. Off came the Lanz,and cotton panties. Leaving me naked, she stormed back to herroom with my night clothes. Soon she returned.”If you’re going to whine like a girl, then I’m going totreat you just like a little girl. Put this on for aunty,precious.”She held out a mound of pink satin. When I held it up, Irealized it was a pink baby doll nighty with matching ruffledrhumba panties just like little girls would wear.”Put these on first.” She threw a pair of plain, pink satingirl’s panties, and a pair of pink, shimmery tights into my face.”Please aunty, I promise I’ll be good. Just bring back mynight shirt” I begged her to give me another chance.”You’re giving me so much trouble that I think I’ll send youto work tomorrow in a dress. Just like a little sissy.” Shesmiled at the tears running down my face.”Ok. Ok. Please not that. I’ll do as you say.” I ran over tothe bed, and quickly donned the panties and tights.”Now, pull the lacy panties up over the tights. Aren’t theyprecious honey? So feminine for such a pretty little girl.” Shepicked up the rhumba panties from the bed and handed them to me.I immediately pulled them over my tights. Next, she picked up thenighty and dropped it over my head. As usual, she had picked mysize, and the puffed sleeves hung perfectly over my body.”Such a pretty little princess. You look just like a fairy.From now on, this is how you will dress after dinner to get yournails done. Tomorrow, I am even going to buy you new baby dolls,so you never have to wear those awful night shirts again. Now goto bed little one. Give aunty a kissy.” She walked out of theroom, and turned out the lights.The next morning, Aunty allowed me to dress myself in theusual panties, white tights, and girdle. As promised, I kept mypink nails, which did indeed match my new blouse and matchingpink camisole. Aunty said that she bought me a pink camisolebecause she didn’t want my lingerie to show under the blouse. Thematerial was so sheer however, that I knew everyone could easilysee the lace trim and satin bow on the front. Luckily the dayproceeded uneventfully. All of my fellow secretaries commentedhow nice my nails looked, and how impressed they were that Iwanted my nail color to match my new blouse. I figured that theywould object to having a boy dress in such a feminine manner, butthey told me that they appreciated my aunt’s efforts to make mefit in with the rest of the staff.CHAPTER VI – FAIRY FOR A WEEKThe rest of the week flew by. Every day, my aunt would dropme off at the doctor’s office, and would pick me up after work. On Friday, my feminization really shifted into first gear. WhenI was cleaning up my desk at the end of the day, Dr. Nelson toldme that Aunt Clara had called, and had asked her to drive mehome. Aunty told Dr. Nelson that she was entertaining a friendand couldn’t come to pick me up. I grabbed my new purse that myaunt had bought for me to hold my powder and climbed into Dr.Nelson’s car.On the ride home, I really felt grown up. Dr. Nelson told mehow much the other secretaries liked having me as an officeassistant. She told me that initially, she wasn’t sure how well Iwas going to fit in with the all-girl office, but after seeing mework, she was happy to see how much effort I expended to getalong with everyone. She told me that “the girls” especiallyliked the new additions to my wardrobe, and they all hoped that Iwould continue to wear such pretty clothes with my uniformslacks.”The girls are very conscientious about their appearance”Dr. Nelson said, “and were concerned that you might clash withtheir clothes.” From these comments, I could only assume that Iwas really becoming one of the girls. Instead of feelingembarrassed about my pink nails and see through blouse like lastnight, I now felt proud about how well I was getting along withmy co-workers. Not proud enough though, to meet my Aunt’s frienddressed in such a feminine manner.When Dr. Nelson dropped me at the end of the driveway, Iquietly entered the house through the back door, and creptupstairs. I changed into the single pair of ill-fitting boy’sjeans, and my old gray sweatshirt, and proceeded to wash off themakeup, that made me look so much like a girl. I headeddownstairs for supper.When I rounded the corner into the dining room, I couldn’tbelieve what I saw. There, on the dining room table, amidst thecoffee cups and raspberry danish crumbs lay my rhumba panties,tights and baby doll nighty.”Well look who’s home from work. Our own fairy princess.Chrissy dear, say hello to Mrs. Morgan. I was just showing heryour pretty panties, tights and nighty, and telling her how muchyou love dressing up like a cute little girl. Isn’t that right?”I couldn’t respond. I was shocked that my Aunt would betraymy confidence to the outside world.”Mrs. Morgan is putting on a play at the girl’s club, andher head fairy is sick. I’ll bet you’d love to take her place!” All I could do was shake my head. My mouth was frozen shut. Howcould this be happening? Mrs. Morgan got a doubtful look on her face. “Gee Clara,Chrissy does appear to be the right size, but I honestly don’tthink he would look anything like a girl.”My aunt smiled and quickly responded. “Well, why don’t yousee for yourself. I am sure Chrissy would love to model herpretty new things. She always did want to go to modeling school.””Aunty, please no.” My eyes pleaded for leniency from myAunt’s strange sense of humor. Unfortunately, Mrs. Morgan seemedto warm to the idea of seeing a boy dressed up as a girl.”Clara, what a great idea. I would love to see Chrissydressed in her baby doll and panties. Can I give you a hand?”My aunt grabbed my hand and started to lead me up the stairsto the bedroom. “Grab Chrissy’s undies, and lets get started.”Mrs. Morgan picked up the panties, tights, and nighty, and thetwo women herded me upstairs.I tried to fight them as they dragged me toward the bedroom,but the two women were much stronger than I. By the time I got tomy Aunt’s bedroom, I had no strength left in my body. Mrs. Morganpulled the sweatshirt over my head, while Aunt Clara, unbuttonedmy jeans, and pulled my underpants down to my ankles. By thistime the sweatshirt was over my head, holding my arms frommoving. Someone pushed me down onto my back, and in one fellswoop, I was naked on the bed.”I’m going to throw these boy’s clothes in the trashcompactor. Since I dressed him last night, I’ll let you have thehonors tonight.” My aunt headed down the stairs carrying the lasttie to my masculine life. Considering the circumstances, Idecided to plead for clemency.”Please Mrs. Morgan. I’m so embarrassed. Just tell Auntythat I am the wrong size, and let me go. Please? Can’t youunderstand how humiliating it is to wear these things?” I pointedto the pile of satin in her hands. Suddenly, this hateful lookcrossed her face.”Of course. That’s why I want to take part in making youAunty’s pretty little princess. I already know that you’ll fitinto Melissa’s costume, but I’ve always wanted to dress a boy asa girl. Now I have the perfect opportunity to do as I wish withmy own little boy! And let me tell you sister, if you think thatthis is bad, you just wait. You think you’ll just be able to wearyour costume over your jeans? Guess again. I am going to doeverything I can to make you into a proper little girl. Just wait’till dress rehearsal. You do know why they call it dressrehearsal don’t you?!”I shook my head.Well you’ll find out soon enough. Now then, unless you wantme to tell your aunt to send you to work in a dress, I wouldsuggest we get started.” She picked up the plain panties, kneltin front of me, and held open the waist. “Let’s see how Chrissyputs on her satiny panties.”Resigned to my fate, I lifted my shaved leg, and pointed mytoe toward the floor. Mrs. Morgan put the opening, first under myright foot and then under my left, slid the panties up my legs,and covered my private parts.”See dear. Don’t these feel so pretty? Much better thanthose nasty briefs. Now, lets get your tights.” She picked up thepink Danskins.”Oooh, shimmery tights. Aunty really knows how to make herlittle boy pretty.” She rolled the toe of the stockings over myfeet, and carefully pulled them up over my bottom.As the tights reached my waist, my aunt reentered thebedroom.”Doesn’t he make an adorable niece?” my aunt gushed as shesurveyed her nephew, once again clad in panties and pink tights.”Absolutely. You know you were right. This IS much betterthan having a daughter.” She picked up the lacy, rhumba panties,and held them up to my aunt.”Where on earth did you get these? They are so adorable? Ididn’t think that anyone sold these anymore.” Not waiting for ananswer, she pulled them over my tights before my aunt couldrespond.”The Proper Princess in Santa Clara of course. Theproprietors are a couple of elderly women who remember just howprettily girls dressed back in the sixties. They have factoriesin the Orient that make old fashioned petticoats, rhumba panties,bouffant slips, girdles, garter belts and sweater bras, all forgirls from 5 – teen. Of course, they also stock things forspecial boys like Chrissy. You should see some of the Nylon partydresses that they have in the shop. Chrissy would look great in aparty dress. I even saw some satin, sanitary napkin belts forteenagers there. Talk about sugar and spice and everything nice!”Without looking up from the task of adjusting the fit of mylacy overpanty, Mrs. Morgan continued with the conversation.”Wow. You don’t see those things around much any more. Ialways thought belted napkins were much more feminine than thosestick in kind. Did you buy Chrissy one? She might be having herperiod soon!” Both women burst out laughing.”No not yet. I think it is still too early for Chrissy tomake the transition from c***dhood to young womanhood. All in duetime thought. I did tell them about Chrissy, and they thoughtthat having a nephew who really wanted to be a niece was divine.They told me to bring our Chrissy in anytime to start building awardrobe suitable for an eleven year old.”By this time, Mrs. Morgan had lowered the baby doll over myhead, and was fluffing my hair.”Well, are you going to take her shopping?” I looked up inhorror, waiting for the answer that might determine my futurefate.”Well, maybe. It depends on whether or not Chrissy behaveshimself.” Aunty looked at her friend. “See, didn’t I tell youthat Chrissy would make a perfect pixie.”Mrs. Morgan looked at me and spun me around to get a goodlook at my new clothes. “Chrissy. I never would have believed it,but you look absolutely exquisite. Just like a ten year oldgirl.” She reinforced my humiliation by patting my panty cladbottom. I felt sick to my stomach, and slumped onto the bed.Mrs. Morgan went on.”Let me tell you about the production dear.” She sat downnext to me on the bed. “I am the director of a play being stagedby the Carlisle Academy Girls Theater Company. It’s called “TheFairy Princess in Pixieland”, and it’s all about this little girlwho dreams that she travels to the land of Pixies, and is changedinto a fairy princess. The play opens in one week, and one of ourhead pixies has come down with a dreadful case of stomach flu.The problem is that we have already ordered all of the costumes,and none of the stand ins are the right size. I happened tomention our little problem to your aunt, and she mentioned howmuch you enjoyed your school theater group, and how much you’dlove to join our little production. And guess what? You reallyARE the perfect size for the costume. Now I know that we have anall girls theater company, but you shouldn’t have any trouble.After all, in your nighty, you really do look just like one ofthe girls.”She continued. “Now the part is real easy. There are nolines to memorize or anything. All you have to do is sit there,and smile pretty. You’ll even get to wear stage makeup like agrownup!” She seemed to enjoy the fact that I couldn’t blush moreif I tried.On one hand, I really wanted to say yes, but would bemortified to go out in front of people dressed like that.Besides, I was so angry over this intentional humiliation at thehands of my aunt, I had no intention on cooperating. I took twodeep breaths, and responded.”Thank you Mrs. Morgan, but I don’t think so. I have to wearthese pajamas because I am allergic to the cotton nightshirtsthat my mom bought for me. I don’t really want to be one of thegirls.” Things were proceeding so fast, that I was terrified thatthis “one of the girls” thing was getting too far out of hand.Suddenly my aunt dropped a bombshell. “Well dear, if youaren’t one of the girls, then why are you wearing pink nailpolish? Perhaps you’d also like to show Mrs. Morgan your newpanty girdle.” She turned to Mrs. Morgan. “How many boys do youknow who wear teen panty girdles? He even asked if we could goshopping for a training bra.”Aunt Clara surveyed my satin-clad body. “Perhaps we should.Do you think he is ready for his first bra? He’s only eleven youknow!”Mrs. Morgan looked at my aunt and smiled. “Clara, you reallyare still living in the sixties. A training bra is veryappropriate for an eleven year old. Some girls in our theatertroupe who wear them are only ten years old. Now then how aboutit Chrissy? Do you really want to go shopping for your first bra,and be in our production?” Darn! I forgot that my nails were still pink from lastnight’s session. It was obvious that this was a set up and that Icouldn’t get out of this mess. Sensing victory, my aunt didn’twait for me to respond.”Of course Chrissy would love to be in your play. When doesrehearsal start?” She shot a triumphant look in my direction.Mrs. Morgan turned to me and held my hands. “Marvelous.Final rehearsals start on Monday at 6:00 PM. I’ll bring over thecostume tomorrow afternoon to see if any alterations arenecessary. Otherwise, have her there at 6:00 on Monday.” Mrs.Morgan’s face was beaming.”As far as a bra goes, we’ll have to see how developedChrissy is when I bring the costume over for her to try.” Mrs.Morgan winked at my aunt, and began gathering up her things.I tried to muster as much masculine determination aspossible. “I am not a her, and I don’t need a bra!” I stood upand crossed my hands in front of me in an attempt to hide myfeminine fingernails.”Let us be the judge of that young lady.” Both womengiggled. “We can’t have your boobies bouncing around under yourpixie costume, now can we?” The giggles turned to laughter asboth women headed for the door.As Aunt Clara bid Mrs. Morgan good-bye, I sat back in thechair, too weary to contemplate my latest humiliation.”I’m not doing it. I am not a girl, and I don’t like beingcalled one. Who do you think I am? Your niece? Get real!” Iturned away with disgust.”Enough of that impertinence young lady. Let’s get somethingstraight.” She grabbed my chin tightly in her hand, and looked mestraight in the eyes. “If I tell you that you are a girl, thenyou will be a girl!. I can easily send photos of you in yournighty to your mother, or your friends at school. I can dress youin skirts, and send you out for a quart of milk. What I say goes,and you’d better do EXACTLY as I say. Otherwise, I’m going tomake this 1000 times worse for you!”She released my chin, and sat down on the bed. “I told Janethat you would help her out, and you are going to follow throughon that promise.What choice did I have? I already knew how much she enjoyedhumiliating me. If I refused the part, she would make sure thateveryone knew that I was a sissy boy, a femme, or a fairy. If Idid go along, I might be able to keep this humiliating summerunder wraps. Besides, despite what Mrs. Morgan threatened,costumes did go over your original clothes, and I probably couldwear my boy’s underpants and socks to cement my status in frontof these other girls. Aunty would HAVE to go along with that.And the bra stories? Probably just designed to scare me intogoing along with the deal. What did I have to put in a braanyway?”all right, I agree. But as long as you promise to cool thegirl stuff from now on!””Of course dearest, your the sweetest!” She kissed me on theforehead. “I’ll even let you wear your nightshirt tonight,instead of your baby doll. See, I know that you want to beAunty’s little man.” She strode over to the closet, opened thedoor, and lifted my nightshirt out of the laundry basket.”Oh, I’m sorry Chrissy. I didn’t wash your nightshirt. Youdon’t mind wearing your baby doll to bed do you? I promise towash it tomorrow.” She kissed me again and hugged me to her body.Mrs. Morgan ‘the bitch’ was gone, and the sweet, loving motherfigure had returned. She was being so sweet and all, that Itotally believed her words.”No aunty. I don’t mind.” Besides, the nylon did feel muchbetter than the cotton.”Perfect. Now go brush your teeth, and I’ll see you in themorning. You’ll have to find something to keep you busy tomorrow.I have a long report to write for work on Monday, and I can’t bedisturbed. Now I suggest that you hit the sack. It’s reallygetting late.”After I brushed my teeth, she led me over to my bed, andtucked in the covers around me. “Isn’t Mrs. Morgan nice?” sheexclaimed as she turned out the lights.As I closed my eyes, I said to myself “Yeah. Mrs. Morgan isperfect….as a witch.” Secretly, I was enjoying the opportunityto fulfill many c***dhood fantasies about becoming a girl, but mytransformation was proceeding along much too fast. I hoped thatsoon, things would get better, and this girlish stuff would slowdown. I didn’t know how wrong I was.CHAPTER 7 – THE COSTUMEDue to all the stress of the previous evening’s activities,I hoped to sleep past my usual weekend wake up time of 9:00 AM.Unfortunately, I didn’t count on my aunt’s plans. At 7:00, myaunt breezed into my room, pulled up the shades, leaving meblinking in the strong sun.”Wake up dearest. Today’s costume fitting day! Mrs. Morganjust called and came up with a great idea. She suggested that youattend this weekend’s afternoon rehearsals to get a feel for yourpart. Since I have work to do, Mrs. Morgan suggested that youcould stay with her for the weekend, and she would take you tothe theater. Isn’t that sweet of her?””Indubitably.” I tried to muster as much sarcasm aspossible. Somehow I knew that this would not be as simple as alift to rehearsal, but I didn’t see that I had much choice in thematter. She pulled off my covers and headed for the bathroom. “I’llrun your bath, and while your in the tub, I’ll lay out yourclothes. Mrs. Morgan lent you some boyish slacks and shirts thatbelonged to her daughter. I told her about your chubby hips, andshe thought that these would fit you instead of buying brand newclothes. I’ll leave your undies on the chair.”Resigned to my fate, I took off the baby doll, panties, andtights, and after putting them in the laundry basket, I grabbed afresh towel and headed for the bathroom. As I hung up the towelnext to the hot, steaming tub, I noticed the usual pink nylonpanties, and one of my girdles. Instead of tights and a camisole,I found the girl’s satin vest that I tried on during my first dayat work, and a pair of white, opaque, shiny knee high stockings.I turned toward the door, and yelled down the hall”Aunty, where are my tights and camisole, and how come Ihave to wear these other things?”My aunt poked her head into the bathroom. “Because silly. InDr. Nelson’s office, you have to fit in with a group that is mucholder than yourself. At Sunday’s rehearsal, you be with girls whoare younger just like you. Besides, Mrs. Morgan sent them alongwith the slacks and shirts. Now hurry up. Mrs. Morgan isexpecting you in 3/4 of an hour. Make sure you shave your legstoo. They are getting stubbly. Don’t bother with your hair. Youdon’t have time this morning.”I didn’t see any stubble, but did as I was told anyway. Infifteen minutes, I quickly completed my bath, took care of mylegs and underarms, and quickly rinsed off the suds from thebubble bath. I hopped out of the tub, dried my smooth body,dusted myself with bath powder, applied deodorant, and slid onthe undergarments laying on the dressing bench. I hurried into myaunt’s bedroom.There on the bed, lay a pair of pale blue stirrup pants, asoft pullover sweater and a lavender blouse with buttons on thefront. I pulled on the pants, pulled the stirrup under my feet,buttoned up my blouse, and pulled on my sweater. My aunt combedmy hair with a part in the middle, and after a few dabs of facialpowder, we were ready to go. We hopped in the car, and droveacross town to Mrs. Morgan’s neighborhood. With a kiss on theface, she dropped me off in front of the house, and drove away asI rang the bell. Almost as soon as I pushed the doorbell, thedoor opened.”Good morning Chrissy. How did you sleep in your prettynighty last night? Do you like the clothes that I dropped offlast night? They fit you marvelously.”I blushed at her comments, and offered a reserved thank you.If someone else was listening in to this incredible conversation!I would have melted into the ground.”Well don’t just stand there, come inside. As soon as I getrid of this coffee, we can get started with the costume. I knowyou’ll like it since it’s much prettier than your baby dolls!”She closed the door behind me, and led me through the living roomand into the kitchen where she rinsed out her cup.”You know, your aunt told me all about your wanting to be agirl. She said that your step-mother found pictures in the familyphoto album of you dressed as a girl for a Halloween party whenyou were 5. She said that your grandmother use to love making youpretty. Was that true?”I couldn’t believe that my grandmother had betrayed ourlittle secret. I also was kind of disappointed that someone elsein my family who had seen the pictures didn’t pick up wheregrandma left off. In spite of these feelings, I was terrified ofhaving anything to do with dressing up around an obviousstranger. I shook my head, and started mumbling about Halloween.Mrs. Morgan quickly cut in. “Well, I hope that you can learnto like being a pretty girl because it will be a lot easier onyou if you do. If you choose to fight me on this, it will be 1000times more humiliating than if you cooperate. Do you want me totell all the neighbors the newest pixie is really a fairy littleboy? Hmm? Wouldn’t it be a lot easier if everyone thought thatyou were just another girl?”She had a point. I didn’t relish the thought of wearing atutu, tights and makeup while looking like a boy. I wanted toavoid attention to get the whole mess over with. The humiliationof being crossdressed in public was a lot worse than getting thechance to fulfill my dreams again. Mrs. Morgan’s voiceinterrupted my train of thought.”Besides, if you enjoy being made a girl as much as everyonesays, we can have so much fun together this weekend. I’ve alwayswanted to dress a pretty boy as a girl, and you’d make aperfectly darling new daughter. I promise I won’t tell anyone aslong as you tell me not to. It will be our little secret.” Shesmiled and waited for my answer.Well, the syrupy sound of her voice worked its magic, andthe soft touch of her hand erased all fear of public exposure. It brought back all of the fantastic memories of my last visit tograndma’s house six years ago.”Are you sure that no one else will find out?” I whispered.”As long as you do exactly as I say, no one will ever findout. I’ll bet you’d love to wear all kinds of makeup wouldn’tyou? Did your grandmother put makeup on you?” She picked up myhand, and looked into my face.I nodded sheepishly, while a broad smile crept across mylips.”Well, if you canlı poker oyna want, I can put makeup on you too! Well, whydon’t we get started making my new daughter pretty.” She pickedup my hand and led me upstairs into the master bedroom of thehouse.There were clothes laid out all over the queen sized bed,and I started to shake when I began to suspect that my new auntybought all of these pretty things for me.”Mrs. Morgan, I thought I was just going to try on a pixiecostume.” I pointed to all of the clothes on the bed. “Who arethese pretty things for?””Why you dearest.” She started unbuttoning my blouse. “Firstoff, you need the proper underfashions for the pixie costume tolook right. Second, you’re going to need something to wear to getyou over to the school for rehearsal. These clothes are much tooboyish for you. You don’t want to look boyish do you dear?”She took my shoes off, and began working on my blouse.”And since you’re my new daughter, you can quit with theMrs. Morgan stuff, and call me aunty!”It was almost like falling down the rabbit hole into afantasy world. My new aunty was going to make me pretty, and noone would know our little secret. She finished with the lastbutton on the blouse, took it off my shoulders, and pulled downmy stirrup pants.The tights, panties and vest followed, until I was naked.Her sweet attitude had totally removed any fear or concern on mypart about what lay ahead for the weekend. I actually loved thefact that I was standing with no clothes on in front of thisstrange woman, awaiting my transition from young man to youngwoman.”Now for this costume, you need special panties. You reallyneed to wear a girdle to keep you from bulging under the clingyfabric, but a girdle would show under the short puffy skirt.That’s why I got you something that should keep you all snug downthere.”She picked up a bag, tore open the plastic, and removed awhite, elastic garment from the bag.”This is called a dance belt.” she explained as she held upthe garment in front of my face. The belt looked like a pair ofvery-high cut panties without backs. The front was a plain,heavy, satin-like material, triangular in shape, with light lacetrim around the edge, and a bow at the waist. In the crotch area,the heavy material narrowed down into a very strong elasticstrap, that went all the way up the back to the waist. The waistband itself was a similar kind of white elastic strap that satlow on the hips, but was only 3/4 of an inch in diameter.She picked up a powder puff, and dusted my private parts tokeep them dry and comfortable. Next, she had me place my legsthrough the loops, and pulled the belt up to my thighs. Shereached over to the bed, and picked up what looked like asanitary napkin that was much thinner than the ones that I saw inmy mother’s bathroom.”Now I know how excited young boys can get when they get towear frills and lace, and we can’t have you messing up yourcostume now can we? So let aunty put this panty liner into yourbelt to keep you nice and clean. Ok?”Mesmerized, I nodded agreement. She unpeeled the stickyback, and stuck the liner into the front of the belt. She stoodup, stepped behind me, and worked the belt over my hips whiletucking me into the front of the garment. As she pulled the beltinto place, the back elastic strap disappeared between my cheeks.”There. Perfect. Next we need tights.” She picked up thepackage, and removed the stockings. The tights were the standardshimmery kind, except this time they were powder blue in color.Since I had been putting on tights for the last two weeks, I tookthem from my new aunty, and pulled them up over the dance belt.”My aren’t you an expert! Have you been dressing up insecret?”I shook my head. Turning me around, she surveyed theabbreviated panty line under the tights.”You know, if I took a picture of you from the waist down,you’d look just like a girl. I can’t even tell you have a peepee.”As I looked into the mirror, I could tell that she wasright. My tights and dance belt made my penis totally disappear.”Now dear, the skirt on the costume is very short, so theaudience will probably be able to see underneath, so we are goingto wear these lacy panties to give them something pretty to lookat! See, these are just like your pink ones that you wear underyour nighty.” These rhumba panties were even more frilly than the ones myaunt picked out. They were made of what my aunt called taffeta,and had an inch of soft, net-type ruffles around the leg opening.Rows of lace were sewed every inch or so across the rear. Thewaist band was hidden in the taffeta, while two white bows gracedthe hips of the garment.”What’s a petticoat?” I asked as I pulled up the fancypanties.”Have you ever worn a half slip dear?”I shook my head. I knew what a slip was, but I wanted her totell me herself. The way she talked to me made me feel just likeher daughter.”Well, a half slip is just like a nylon skirt with anelastic waist. It gives you modesty under a sheer skirt to keepthe boys from seeing your legs. It also protects your stockingsand panties from the rough wool or cotton material. A petticoatis a fluffy slip that helps to hold your skirt out nice and wideso that you look like a ballerina.”She held up a white skirt of sorts that looked like it wasmade of layers and layers of material.”See? we ordered one with each costume.”The outside layer was a thin, see through, lightweighttulle, which lay over four alternating layers of taffeta andnylon net. The outside layer of taffeta had been embroidered withlace rose flowers which were faintly visible under the tulle. Alarge nylon bow accented the front. The edges were all linedwith lace trim.Mrs. Morgan motioned me to put my arms over my head, andlowered the petticoat over my head until it hung over my chubbyhips. I looked into the mirror and discovered that she was right.The edge of my panties did indeed peek out from underneath theshort slip.Mrs. Morgan walked over to the door, and picked up a garmentbag that had been hanging over the edge. She unzipped the bag,and removed the most beautiful pixie costume I had ever seen. Itwas prettier than anything I ever dreamed about. So pretty infact, that I felt woozy just thinking that I would soon bewearing such a dance dress. The skirt was made of the same lightblue sheer tulle as the outer layer of the petticoat I was nowwearing. It was obvious that my pretty petticoat would showthrough the skirt. The bodice of the dress looked like a clingy,very shiny lycra leotard with sheer sleeves.Mrs. Morgan unzipped the back of the dress, and took it offthe hanger. Without any prompting, I put my hands over my head.She guided my hands into the sleeves, and lowered the skirt overmy petticoat. I could barely stop shaking as she zipped up theback, and adjusted the dress covering my body.”Oh aunty! It’s beautiful. It feels incredible to be wearingsuch pretty things! I want to be your daughter forever!”I pirouetted in front of the three sided mirror and felt thesatiny undergarments sliding over my nylon encased legs. This wasbetter than anything I had ever imagined.”You look just like an angel! Your aunt was right that youwould make a perfect pixie! With the right hair style, andmakeup, you’ll be the prettiest pixie in the show! Let me look atyou.” She sat down on the bed, and made me walk in front of her.I felt like a fashion model on a runway as I tried to emulate thesteps of a typical female model.”Do I really look good?” I wanted to hear how pretty I wasover and over again.”I knew you’d be the right size honey. The costume fitsperfectly. Just think, you will be wearing this costume for dressrehearsal on Wednesday and Thursday, and for performances onFriday night, Saturday Afternoon, and evening, and SundayAfternoon. Aren’t you a lucky duck!”I stood mesmerized as I stared at my feminine form in thefull length mirror. Here I was, dressed like a pixie, in acostume that I would have to wear for six whole performances. Mywearing a dress again convinced me that I didn’t want to be a boyanymore, and I was glad that I would be spending a lot of timeover the next week with Mrs. Morgan. Suddenly, I felt her handpulling down my back zipper.”I know you don’t want to take off your pretty costume, butwe have to get you dressed and make it to the theater forrehearsal by three. Take off your things, and hang them up neatlyon the hanger. Leave your dance belt on, and put on these suntantights. I’ll help you with your leotard.Mrs. Morgan was right. My costume was so pretty that Ididn’t want to take it off, but not wanting to be late, Icarefully removed the dress, petticoat, overpanties and tights,and hung them on the special hanger. Mrs. Morgan had bought medance clothes just for rehearsals, so I shimmied into the suntantights, and picked up the black, lycra leotard. Mrs. Morganshowed me how to roll up the top, step into the panty, and pullthe stretchy material over my hips, and then over my shoulders.”Here. Put these on.” She handed me my navy blue stirruppants, and my matching flats. I pulled on the clingy pants overmy tights and looped the stirrup under my foot.”Let me brush your hair, and we’ll be ready to go.” Shemotioned me over to her dressing table. She brushed and teased myhair to add fullness to the androgenous style my hair had growninto, and added the usual blush, powder and lip gloss to my face.In the mirror, I looked more like a young teenaged girl than theteenaged boy that I started out as. A couple of sprays of hairspray, and she pronounced me ready for class.”I don’t know about this. Why can’t I just wear my pants andblouse? I really look like a boy dressed in girl’s clothes.Everyone is going to make fun of me.” I really had major concernsabout being seen wearing a leotard by the other girls in theproduction. I knew that teenaged girls in the 8th grade stillconsidered boys to be yucky, and might take offense at my obviousintrusion into their domain.”Nonsense. You are just fitting in by dressing like theother members of the troupe. You know, just like at Dr. Nelson’soffice. There is a class dress code of solid color leotards andsuntan tights. If you wear pants, you will really stick out. Mrs.Cataldo, the teacher, will watch out for you. I promise.”I looked up as she put on her shoes and grabbed her purse.”Why? Won’t you be there?””I have to run errands, so I’m going to leave you atthe theater. Just do what Mrs. Cataldo says.”She got up off the bed, and grabbed my purse that washanging from the doorknob.”Here. Take your purse, and let’s get going.”We locked up the house, and climbed into the car. Lookingthrough my purse, I discovered that she had added tissues, lipgloss, a spare panty liner, and breath mints. I took out abreath mint, and being careful not to smudge my lip gloss, poppedit into my mouth.CHAPTER 8 – REHEARSAL WITH THE GIRLS All kinds of thoughts ran through my head on the drive overto Carlisle Academy. “What if the girls think I’m weird? What ifI can’t play the part? What if someone makes fun of my tights andleotard?” I had no explanation for being in an all-girl’s play oreven wearing girls clothes for that matter. Maybe I could blameit on my aunt, and elicit some sympathy for my plight. Nosolutions came to mind as we pulled into the Carlisle Academycampus, and parked next to the theater.”Posture dear” Mrs. Morgan reminded as we entered thebuilding. “Head up, chin tucked, and hands by your side.”I felt like a girl, walking with my chest and wrists out, andthis only added to the feminine aura that I saw fifteen minutesbefore in the mirror.We walked down the corridor in the front of the building andentered a small office with Mrs. Cataldo’s name on the door. Awoman, who I guessed was the theater teacher, motioned us to sitdown as she finished up her conversation on the telephone. Iperused the walls, and noted the many pictures of girls invarious dance costumes. Some wore plain leotards with see-throughskirts. Others wore ornately decorated leotards with sequins andlace trim. I started to see if I could find pictures of boydancers, but didn’t get a chance to look, as Mrs. Cataldoabruptly finished her phone call.”This must be Chrissy.” Mrs. Cataldo beamed as she looked meover from head to toe.Mrs. Morgan responded. “Chrissy, this is Mrs. Cataldo.”Turning to the teacher, she added “Chrissy is so excited aboutbeing a pixie in the play. We tried on the costume this morningand Chrissy didn’t want to take it off. He really looksadorable.”I was blushing like crazy, and knew that the makeup job onlymade the situation more noticeable.”Well it’s great to have him in the show.” She turned herattention to my appearance again. “I am happy to see that you areobserving our class dress code. I’m sure you’ll be accepted asone of the girls in no time.”I liked the whole idea of being a girl, but having neverdone it in so public a fashion, I was quite nervous andembarrassed, and didn’t respond to the complement.Mrs. Cataldo continued. “Well Jane, you can be on your way.Rehearsal should be done in two hours. We’ll see you then.”She turned to me and continued. “Come on Chrissy, lets getstarted shall we?” She ushered us out of the office, locking thedoor behind her. Waving goodbye to my new mom, I followed Mrs.Cataldo through a set of double doors into the theater.The double doors led directly backstage, and I could seethat there were about sixty girls, ranging in age from about tento their upper teens. Some had the bodies of pre-pubescentteenagers, while others were already developing into attractiveyoung ladies. It was easy to guess ages, since the leotards leftlittle to the imagination. Most complied with the dress code, buta few were wearing leotards with bright designs on them, orshorts and t-shirts over their leotards and tights.My hopes of blending in with the group were dashed however,as every eye in the room moved my way. Somehow, I felt naked, andcrossed my arms in front of my chest to cover myself up.”Just like a girl!” I thought to myself.Mrs. Carlisle hopped up on a chair, and clapped her hands toquiet the group. Most eyes were still glancing my way, but nowmany of the girls were giggling at the same time. I wanted todisappear into the floor.”Attention please girls. Quiet down please. I want tointroduce you to a new member of our troupe, Chrissy Parsomes.Chrissy will be taking Melinda’s place as one of the pixies inthe show. I hope you will make her, I mean him feel welcome.”The whole room burst out into laughter at her use ofpronouns.”Let’s try the dance routine in act three, scene two. Takeyour places everyone.Turning in my direction, she continued to address the castmembers. “Chrissy, you can take off your jeans, and have a seaton the side to get a feel as to what is going on. Tomorrow, Iwant you to try some of the dance steps to get a feel for theproduction.”Still blushing like crazy, I walked over to the side andbegan removing my jeans. That’s when the comments started.”I guess Mrs. Cataldo is right. I can’t tell if he is a boyor a girl.” One of the f******n year olds stared while I took offmy blouse.Her friend responded “I think he’s a girl. He is wearingmakeup. How many boys do you know that wear blusher?”They all laughed out loud. I don’t know if it was possible,but my ears seemed to be ready to burst into flames. I ignoredthe comments, and concentrated on folding up my jeans, andpulling down my leotard to cover my bottom.”Look. He doesn’t even have a weener. Maybe he had theoperation.” I glanced over where the comment came from. Thisgroup of girls all looked around sixteen years old, and all ofthem wore bras over well developed figures. Ignoring my glare,they continued to giggle amongst themselves. I took the nearestchair, and concentrated on the dance group lining up on stage. Ihoped that Mrs. Cataldo would shield me from any sort ofembarrassing situations, but so far, she had totally ignored myhumiliation.As the rehearsal progressed, the comments continued, makingfun of my undeveloped figure, my pink nail polish, my girlishhaircut, and shimmery tights. One girl seemed to take exceptionaldelight at making fun of me in front of her group.Sandy looked to be the oldest member of the group. She heldthe lead in the play, and had obviously been dancing for manyyears. She had a fantastic figure, and sported a femininehairstyle and makeup job. She looked just like a model. For somereason, she seemed to take an instant dislike to me. Every timeshe passed my chair, which was often, she let loose with a nastycomment. She seemed to relish in my humiliation.”My such a sweet little girl…..What’s your name littlegirl…..What a pretty leotard Chrissy. Did you pick it outyourself…..I bet your wearing pretty pink panties under yourtights. Maybe you’ll show them to us in the dressing room afterrehearsal.” Every comment seemed to be worse than the prior one.Finally, rehearsal ended, and the girls pranced off thestage to mop their brows with towels after the strenuous workout,Sandy decided to get in what I thought was her last jab beforeeveryone headed home.”Chrissy dear. Don’t you know we have a dress code here?”She looked at me with a derisive look on her face. Her clique hadgathered around to witness her attack on the new little femme inthe class.I had already figured out that hiding didn’t keep them frommaking fun of me, so I decided to stick up for myself. I liftedmy chin, and summoned up the courage to respond.”Of course. What do you think I am, stupid? What do youthink these are?” I pointed to my tights.The group laughed. My new found courage didn’t seem to beworking. Sandy ignored my response and continued.”It says on the sign up sheet that all girls who aredeveloping a figure, are required to wear bras. Where’s your brasissypants?”I couldn’t believe my ears, as the group burst into loudlaughter. I didn’t know what to say. My response was pitiful.”Boys don’t have figures stupid.””That’s why they make training bras dear. For girls withsmall boobies like you.” I felt like I was at a comedy routine. The group loved theshow that Sandy was putting on for them. Lost for any reply totheir comments, I was relieved to hear Mrs. Cataldo call for thegroup’s attention.”OK girls. Remember, rehearsal starts at 9:00 AM sharptomorrow. Make sure your here ready to go. Let’s see.” She lookeddown at a list attached to her clipboard.”Those of you who haven’t paid your costume fees yet, getthem in tomorrow. I have to pay the order bill by Friday. Stopbeing cheapskates and cough up.” Laughs s**ttered around theroom.”One more thing. I shouldn’t have to remind you about this,but we do have a dress code here. Shorts, t-shirts and patternedleotards are not acceptable. I want to see everyone in solidleotard, and suntan tights girls.”A voice came out of the crowd that sent a shiver up myspine.”What about bras Mrs. Cataldo?” I looked across the stage.There stood Sandy, looking in my direction, with a sick smile onher face.”Of course Sandy. Thanks for reminding me. Anyone with afigure should be wearing a bra under their leotard. Sinceeveryone here is aged ten and over, you all have figures, andshould all be wearing bras. All good dancers want to look theirbest on stage, and you can’t look your best if you’re jigglingall over the place. I’ll be checking tomorrow, so I want to seebra straps over everyone’s shoulders.” A groan sent off acrossthe stage from the feminists in the group.”Here it comes I thought” as Sandy inched forward towardsMrs. Cataldo.”Well, Chrissy told me that she…I mean he was eleven, andI think he is pretty developed if you ask me. Why doesn’t he haveto wear a bra?”I’m sure everyone noticed that I immediately covered mychest with my arms, because everyone, including Mrs. Cataldo wasstaring in my direction.Other girls began to pipe up their support. “Yeah. How comewe have to and he doesn’t.”One girl pushed her way forward. “He wanted to join anall-girls production. I say he has to live by our rules.”By this time, Sandy had walked over to my side of the stage,and was standing directly in front of me. She poked her fingerinto my chest and drove the final nail into my coffin.”If you want to be a girl so much that you asked for themost feminine part in our show, then you have to wear a bra!” Sheturned and walked back toward Mrs. Cataldo.Obviously, I was beet-faced, having been totally embarrassedin front of sixty girls. Even so, I figured that the joke had runits course. Mrs. Cataldo would laugh, smile, and end the wholeaffair by exempting me from that part of the dress code. Afterall, I was a guy, and had complied with the leotard, tights andballet slippers part. What did I have to put into a bra? Ismiled in her direction.Mrs. Cataldo laughed, smiled and then dropped the bomb. “Ofcourse Sandy. You’re absolutely right. Chrissy dear, I want tosee you wearing a bra tomorrow.” The whole group erupted intoapplause. It’s almost as if everyone wanted to feminize me.Despite being scared to death over the impendingdevelopments, I found the necessary voice to respond to theridiculous order.”That’s not fair! I don’t have a figure! I’m a boy!”Immediately, comments sprang up from the group along the lines of”You sure don’t look like a boy!””Well dear, that’s why they make training bras!” Thelaughter was impossible to ignore and I was mortified. It’salmost as if Sandy had been talking to Mrs. Cataldo about me.She stepped down off the chair thus signalling the end ofrehearsal. As the rest of the girls headed for the exits, Mrs.Cataldo walked over in my direction.”Please ask your mother to take you shopping tonight to getyou properly fitted. OK?” She picked up her tote bag sittingbeside me and headed out for her office. “I’d suggest choosingsomething made of nylon with lace trim to help you feel like atrue pixie!” I gathered my things and ran outside.CHAPTER 9 – CHRISSY’S FIRST BRA”What a mess” I thought to myself as I climbed into bed withthe script for the play. I had three hours before lights out toget familiar with my part before tomorrow’s rehearsal. I hadoften dreamed about getting fitted for my first brassiere, butnow that the event threatened to become a reality, I was tooembarrassed to go through with it. As a result, I didn’t tellMrs. Morgan about my need for a bra, and luckily, she didn’t findout about Mrs. Cataldo’s order. I figured that no one wouldexpect me to go through with what had to be a joke, and thatafter a few rehearsals, everyone would forget about the wholeincident.Even so, despite my keeping “the bra thing” a secret fromMrs. Morgan, I couldn’t stop thinking about going to get fittedfor a bra. Most of the sex ed books that I read in school suggestedthat a girl’s first bra marked the beginning of her journey fromc***dhood to adult womanhood. A bra was the one garment thatshouted “Young woman” for the whole world to see. I rememberedspending hours following the outline of the bras worn by thegirls in my class. While the white regulation blouses were prettyopaque in the front, the sheer backs allowed me a perfect view ofthe satiny straps and back hooks. Many a day, I daydreamed aboutwhat it would be like to have my mother take me shopping for myfirst bra, and having to hook one on every morning beforetravelling off to school. Now the opportunity lay open for it tohappen for real, and I was too scared to follow through! I triedto concentrate on the script that lay in the lap of my baby dollnighty, but the wetness showing through the panties kept bringingme back to my old fantasies. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anylonger. I put the script on the night table, and headeddownstairs to grab the mail order Catalog. After my aunt hadretired for the night, I sneaked the catalog from under my bedand turned to the index.”Let’s see…..Bras…..Here it is…..growing girls, page237…..Juniors, page 239-240…..teens, page 237-238.”I quietly turned to page 237, and consulting the header atthe top of the page.”Junior Bras and Foundation Garments.”The text continued.”Be sure to measure sizes carefully, as developing figureschange rapidly. To determine size, measure girl in normalunderwear. Place measuring tape under developing bust. This isthe bra size. Round up to nearest even number.To determine cup size, place tape over fullest part of thebust. If the measurement is the same or less than the brameasurement, she takes a AAA cup. 1/2 to 1 inch larger takes a AAcup. 1 inch or larger takes an A cup. 2 inches larger takes a Bcup. For proper sizing information, bring your daughter into theJunior Department for an expert fitting.”I continued down the page to the section marked p*****n /Growing Girl Bras.”Designed for the just developing p*****n whose figure israpidly changing. Nylon spandex cups adjust to the growing bustline. Adjustable stretch straps and three hook back closure allowfor perfect fit. Feminine design makes every young girl feel moregrown up!”I looked down at the pictures. The first looked like one of mysatin vests that had been cut off below the bust. The captionread”Bra Look Vest. Soft nylon/cotton blend provides modestprotection and support. Lace edging with satin bow trim. Backhook closure. Made in Costa Rica. Available in white, pink, andbeige, sizes S M L. #PTBLV. Package of two, $3.95I continued down the page.”Nylon Stretch beginner bra. Ideal starter bra for girlsjust starting to show. Nylon spandex cups stretch to fit cupsizes from AAA to A. Lace knit cups, and floral trim let everyoneknow that your little girl is growing up! Only available inwhite, sizes 28 – 36 AAA – A cup. #PTNSB. Package of 2, $4.95The next one looked similar to the beginner bra, but had morematerial. The caption read”Support Beginner bra. Perfect for size up girls. Widershoulder straps and bottom bands help keep bra in place overchubby figures. Shirring and cross your heart styling betweencups helps accommodate added bust size. Nylon tricot and spandex.White only, sizes 34-40 AA. #PTCSBB. Package of 2, $5.50″The next section described bras for teens.”Bras for the girl who isn’t ready for a full sized bra, butwants to graduate to grown up styling. Feminine features make herlook just like a modern co-ed!”These bras looked a lot more like what the girl’s in my gradewere wearing. One was a very light weight bra with a single 1/2inch strap around the back. The bra had natural cups which Idiscovered bets10 güvenilir mi were made of a single thickness of nylon instead ofbeing padded with fiberfill. It had an inch of floral lace andthe usual bow between the cups. The lace was there to make thebra fit figure sizes ranging from AA to B. A lot of the liberatedgirls at school wore this kind of bra, because it didn’t showmuch under their clothes. Thus they could meet the dress coderequirement of wearing a bra, while minimizing their acceptanceof this regulation.The next one was slightly more substantial. It had a widerband around the bottom that decreased in width from two inchesnear the cups to 1/2 an inch near the back hooks. The catalogcalled this one a contour cup since it had a layer of fiberfilllining the cups. The front was cut pretty low, so the brawouldn’t show under a blouse with an open button, and a smallwhite lace flower decorated the front. The shoulder strapsadjusted in the back. I guessed that girls would have to have thesales lady adjust it for them since the ring and slide was out ofreach. It came in sizes from 32 to 36, AA to B.The third bra seemed to be made for chubby girls. It lookeda lot like my mother’s utilitarian underwear, with plain whitenylon contour cups, wide stretch straps that adjusted in front,and a wide stretchy bottom band that was two inches thick in theback. I didn’t like this one, since it reminded me of crabbyLinda Crawford, the noisiest and biggest breasted girl in myschool. Sure enough, this bra came in sizes from 32 to 42, AA – Ccups.The last two teen bras that I saw were the prettiest. Thefirst one looked a lot like the bra mentioned before, except thatit had a normal tapering back to it. It looked like it was madeof a satiny nylon, and was available in very pretty colors; pink,beige, powder blue, champagne and white. It seemed to be the kindof bra that an older teenager would wear, right before shegraduated to full sized women’s bras. It even had matchingpanties with the same kind of lace trim.The other bra was one of Sears Best. It was very low cut,and had very thin shoulder straps that adjusted in the front. Theback band had a normal taper to it, but started off at an inch atthe cup, slimming down to less than a half an inch at the hooks.The cups were very shiny, and were trimmed with narrow scallopinglace. The styling was very grown up, but the cut was suited to ayoung teenager. Suddenly, I wanted to tell Mrs. Morgan about myneeding a bra. I wanted to wear one like all the other girls inthe group. I began to love the idea of developing a bust, andhoped that someday, Aunty would have me fitted for that verystyle. I tucked the catalog under the bed, turned off the light,and fell asleep with sweet dreams of young girlhood in my head.CHAPTER 10 – CHRISSY’S PUNISHMENTThe next morning, I woke up at my usual time, and after myusual bath, dressed quickly in my panties, tights and leotard.Looking at myself in the mirror, I figured that I might be ableto hide the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra. Looking in Mrs.Morgan’s daughter’s closet, I found a loose, cotton blouse that Iput on over my leotard. Luckily it matched with the stirruppants, and did a pretty good job of hiding my chest. Since Iwanted to minimize the possibility for hassle at class, Isucceeded in killing time around Mrs. Morgan’s house, so that wearrived at the theater exactly at 9:00 AM. After kissing Mrs.Morgan goodbye, I hurried into the theater.Mrs. Cataldo was already there, atop the chair that servedas her speaking platform. I put down my hobo bag, and sat down toput on my ballet slippers. I removed the stirrup pants, but lefton the blouse, which I knotted at the waist like I had seen girlsin school do.No sooner had I finished knotting the blouse, when Mrs.Cataldo caught sight of my i*****l attire.”Now Chrissy. You know better than that. We don’t allowblouses. Take it off, and come show us your new bra!”I slowly unbuttoned the blouse and tried to figure out a wayto break the news that I didn’t have a bra yet.”Well, Mrs. Cataldo, my mother didn’t have time to t.k. m..sh.p.ing…” By now I was mumbling, hoping that she would fill inthe blanks for me.”What’s that Chrissy? We can’t hear you!” The class crowdedaround me as I finished unbuttoning the blouse.”My mother didn’t have time to take me shopping yesterday” Iblurted out while carefully examining my pink ballet slippers toavoid looking anyone in the eye. “I don’t have a bra yet” ‘Well Chrissy, we don’t really want to hear any excuses. Youcan’t be in rehearsal without a proper bra. I guess you’ll haveto sit out rehearsal. How do you think your going to learn yourpart for the play if you can’t practice!” She shook her headwith disgust.I felt like a six year old c***d being chewed out by hisfirst grade teacher.”I promise I’ll work like crazy for the rest of the week. I’ll be sure to get one tomorrow.”At least I’d be able to get through another rehearsalwithout such an obviously feminine undergarment.Suddenly, a girl in a green leotard, with a p*****n figureand a broad smirk on her face stepped forward.”I have an extra bra that would probably fit Chrissy!”Mrs. Cataldo’s face lit up like an airport runway. “Howthoughtful of you Sharon. I’m sure Chrissy would love to borrowit! I know that you do wear the same size.”All I could do was to furiously shake my head.Suddenly, five other girls volunteered that they too hadextra bras that would probably fit me. Mrs. Cataldo sent themscurrying off to their hobo bags, and each one returned with awispy, nylon undergarment.Mrs. Cataldo took each of the five bras, and approached myquivering body.”Well Chrissy, which one do you like best.” I didn’trespond. I was paralyzed.”I think this one should fit perfectly. Let’s go try it onOK?” She held out one of the growing girl’s stretch bras that Irecognized from the Sears Catalog.”A perfect growing girl’s bra for a growing girl’s figure” The class giggled as she turned her attention back to the group.”Sandy, please take over the class while I attend to Chrissyhere. We’ll be right back.”With that, she grabbed me by the hand, ushered me off stageand down to her office. Once inside, she turned on the lights,and locked the door.”Be a good girl and take down your leotard top Chrissy.” Shepushed me down onto the stool next to her desk, and shook out thebra which had been neatly folded into a ball.The time had come to make a choice. I had been dreaming ofmy first bra ever since I first dressed as a girl, and here wasthe perfect opportunity to start wearing one. Granted, it wasgoing to be darn embarrassing to be seen by sixty odd girlswearing a training bra, but as I gazed at the feminine garmentthat dangled in front of my eyes, I began to get more excitedabout the idea.I could say that Mrs. Cataldo forced me into it. It wasn’tmy idea. I had to meet the dress code tied to the theater group.Putting caution to the wind, I nodded to Mrs. Cataldo, whostepped behind me, and helped me slide my arms out of the shinylong sleeves of the leotard. Soon, I was naked from the waist up,while my leotard was gathered around my hips.”Why didn’t you ask Mrs. Morgan to get you a bra? You areold enough for one dear, and Mrs. Morgan did tell me how much youwanted her to take you shopping for one.” Mrs. Cataldo softlymassaged my shoulders. Almost as if she was teasing me, sheallowed the satin bra which was hanging from her wrist, to brushacross my back. Every caress sent shivers up my spine, remindingme that soon I would be wearing a training bra full time justlike all the other girls my age.I shrugged as she continued her massage. “I guess I feltreally embarrassed about asking.”Mrs. Cataldo continued. “That’s OK Chrissy. Most girls areembarrassed when they start developing, and have to start wearingone. Deep inside though, every girl that I know longs to goshopping with her mother for her first. I’ll bet that you’reexcited too?”How did she know how much I dreamed of this day? I nodded myhead.”Well I’ll tell you what. You can wear this one home whenMrs. Morgan picks you up. I guarantee that she will notice yournew figure, and will offer to take you shopping. How’s thatsound?” She leaned over and looked me in the eye.”Great!” I said as I tried to stifle the urge to ask to lookat what soon would be covering my boobies. I couldn’t believe howMrs. Cataldo seemed to be doing everything that she could to helpme through this awkward time in my life.”I help a lot of my girls pop the bra question to theirmommies this way. That’s why we have the dress code that we do.”She slid the bra off of her wrist and pulled out theshoulder straps to their longest length. With two fingers, shedaintily held it out in front of me by the lengthened straps, andinstructed me to put my arms through both loops. With a deepbreath, I leaned forward and put my hands into the bra.The feeling was incredible! The straps were made of thisshiny, stretchy, satin material, and they glided over my smootharms like an skate blade across ice. Soon, the straps were lyingover my shoulders. Mrs. Cataldo reached in front of me, pulledthe cups down over my breasts, and slid her hands along thebottom band to the back set of hooks. As she pulled the backtogether, I could see and feel the stretch satin cups, edged withlace, lift and surround my small sized breasts causing them toactually get bigger. I couldn’t believe it. I actually had afigure like the other 11 year old girls in the class. It was theneatest thing, and the feeling was better than anything in theworld. I swore to myself that I would wear a bra every day fromnow on.”A perfect fit Mrs. Cataldo gushed. “Of course these stretchtypes do fit young girls with a variety of figures. A lotdifferent than when I was a young girl.” She began adjusting theshoulder straps’ ring and slide.I looked down at my new figure that was perfectly encased innylon, and noticed that it looked just like the chests of thegirl’s in the Sears Catalogs. I especially liked the pretty bowthat was sewed on between the cups.”Do you remember when you got your first bra Mrs. Cataldo” Iasked as I stared at my likeness in the mirror?She continued to adjust the straps. “Every girl remembersgetting her first bra. Of course I didn’t have a fairy god motherto broach the subject with my mom.”She winked at me as she tugged at the bra.”I remember telling my mom that my blouses were irritatingmy nipples, and asking her what to do about it. She told me thatI was turning into a young woman, and that I should starttraining my figure. She took me down to the girl’s department atone of the women’s shops downtown, and had me fitted for my firstbra. Back in those days, young women were expected to weargirdles, garter belts and stockings, so mom bought me everythingthat she thought an all-American girl should wear. The sales ladywas so embarrassing, telling me that she was going to make me sopretty. After picking out an appropriately feminine bra, girdleand garter belt, she showed me how to put everything on, and howto attach my new nylons to the belt. To make a long story shortChrissy, I also ended up getting my first permanent, my firstmakeup kit and first sanitary napkin belt all in the same day. Iwas so proud when we arrived home that I modelled my new thingsfor everyone. Mom and I spent all evening trying on my newthings, and playing with my makeup kit. That’s how I learned howmuch boys wanted bras too!””What do you mean” I asked as I looked at her with aquizzical expression on my face?She continued adjusting the straps. “Well, when I got home,my brother who was one year younger than me was really interestedin my new things. He kept asking us lots of questions about whygirls needed bras and girdles, what it felt like to wearstockings, and if he could have curly hair like mine. My dad wasaway on business for the week, so my mom suggested that mybrother let us dress him up to show him what it was like. Momcalled Aunt Jane who lived across town, and they both helped usinto the new bras, girdles, garter belts, stockings and slipsthat mom and I had purchased. Aunt Jane did my brother’s hairand taught us both how to put on makeup. After the makeup, mybrother and I looked like two twins. It was a really greatweekend. It did take a couple of weeks to learn how to hook thebra and garters though. I kept having to ask my mom to hook me upin the morning. She was as excited as I was about helping herdaughter to become a young woman. All mothers live for thatstuff.” She finished with the shoulder straps, gave a quicklook-see, and pronounced me finished.”How does it feel?” she asked as she helped me back into myleotard.”Wow!” I exclaimed as I looked at the new curves that peakedout under the clingy leotard. The outline of my new bra was veryobvious under the black, lycra fabric, and I felt very grown upas I traced the straps over the shoulders to the top of the cups.”Did your brother ever play dress up again?” I asked as shemade sure that my bra straps were hidden under the leotard.”When mom found out how much Bryan liked dressing up, sheencouraged me to lend him the clothes that I grew out of. Ofcourse he had to wait a year to wear a bra, but when he turnedthirteen, mom and I took him shopping for his very own bra,girdle, garter belt, and stockings. After that, we became justlike sisters. We’d come home from school for the weekend, andafter dressing in our bras and girdles, we’d do each other’s hairand makeup. One summer vacation, mom and I even took him downfor a permanent.””Did he like that?” I asked as we rose for the door.”I’ll say!” Mrs. Cataldo responded as he opened her officedoor, and turned out the lights. “Probably as much as you would!”To top off a fantastic day, rehearsal went better than itever had before. After checking to make sure that I was indeedwearing the bra, all the girls seemed to be satisfied that I hadpassed their initiation for joining the group. As a result, theharassment ceased, and I concentrated on learning my part for theplay.CHAPTER 10 – BUYING MY FIRST BRAWhen rehearsal ended, I put on my pants, and following Mrs.Cataldo’s advice, left off the blouse that I wore that morning. Ipacked up my hobo bag, and walked out to the parking lot with theother girls. Mrs. Morgan was waiting in her car, and when I gotinto the car, she immediately noticed that something wasdifferent from this morning.”Chrissy dear, did you forget something?””No why do you ask?” I asked nonchalantly.”There’s something different about you.””I was so hot, I didn’t put my blouse on after rehearsal.”It was tough not to blurt out that of course I was differentsince I wasn’t a little girl any more.”No, it’s something else. You look…..older. More mature. Ican’t quite figure it out.”I looked at her with a stumped expression. How could shemiss the outline? Maybe I was going to have to ask her to take meshopping anyway. I pulled back my shoulders to make the bra standout, but she failed to see any change in my physicalcharacteristics.Arriving home, I entered the house before her, and shefinally noticed the back of my bra silhouetted under the leotard.”Hang on. Come here for a minute.”I quickly turned around with a grin on my face.”What’s wrong?”I walked over to where she was standing in the hallway. Shelaid down her bag and brushed her hand down my back. A broadsmile ran across her face, and she reached out and touched mybreasts with her finger. A very pleasurable sensation ran down myspine.”Your wearing a bra!” she exclaimed, as I smiled in responseto her complement.”Uh huh” I smiled. “Mrs. Cataldo told me that it was part ofthe dress code. I was suppose to tell you yesterday, but Iforgot. This morning, Mrs. Cataldo insisted on me being properlydressed, so she borrowed one from this girl in my class. How do Ilook?”I tried to turn to show her my new figure from all angles.Mrs. Morgan stepped back and surveyed my new self. “Youlook marvelous! You really have developed into a young lady. Youactually have a bust! Come here and look in the mirror.”She pulled me in front of the mirror that hung behind thehall closet door and pulled down the top of my leotard.I couldn’t believe it. She was right. Originally, I thoughtthat my figure came from the bra that I was wearing. Looking now,I could see that I had begun to develop curves like a teenagedgirl. Small, yet distinctive nipples could be seen through theclingy fabric of the training bra.”How can I have a bust. That’s only for girls!?”Mrs. Morgan looked at me and shook her head. “Well dear,some boys actually have more girl in them than boy. When theyreach puberty, these boys begin to look, act and feel like girls.The doctor at your new school told your step mother that you wereone of these kind of boys, and that she should have you spend thesummer with your aunt to see how things work out.”She traced the strap with her finger from the top of the cupover my shoulder and continued her explanation.”Your aunt told me how much you wanted to be a girl. Soon,you’ll get your wish. You’re going to look just like a girl, soobviously you can’t go running around like a boy. People willtalk. So, your aunt and I are going to help you learn to be agirl until you decide if you want to get medical help to try tobecome a boy again. We felt that this would be the easiest wayfor you. Don’t you agree?”I was so excited that I hugged Mrs. Morgan as hard as Icould.Mrs. Morgan seemed to share my enthusiasm. “First thingsfirst. This bra is a bit small for your figure. You really haveto be properly fitted. Otherwise, your bra will beuncomfortable, and you won’t wear it. You obviously need a bradear. You can’t go walking around sticking out like you werethis morning. It isn’t ladylike. She walked over to the telephone and picked up the receiver. “Let’s call your aunt, and see what she thinks!” Mrs. Morgandialed my aunt’s number.”Hello Clara. This is Jane calling. Yes the costume fitsperfectly. She looks like an absolute angel. Blue is mostcertainly her color.”I loved the way my new mother was calling me by a femininepronoun.”No, no alterations will be needed. One thing though, haveyou noticed that your niece is quite developed?”I couldn’t make out my aunt’s responses, so I just listenedwith my hands folded in my lap.She continued. “Uhhuh…..Yes, quite a lot for her age. Iwould say a double A……Oh yes…..The clingy fabric doesemphasize her bust. You can really see her nipples…..Of course.I agree…..I’ll take her down to get fitted this afternoonbefore we go to Monica’s…..Where?…..Well, I haven’t shoppedfor training bras since I was twelve…..Mmhmm. I’ll call AlisonSchmidtt’s mother. Yes, she works in the clothing business….Alison…..One of the other pixies in the show…..Ok I’msure we’ll manage…..Bye bye.”Mrs. Morgan hung up the phone, and immediately dialedanother call. I didn’t pay any attention to the number, since Iwas too busy trying to think what kind of bra Mrs. Morgan wouldbuy for me.My aunt’s voice woke me up from my day dream.”Alison? Hi. This is Mrs. Morgan. Is your mother in dear?”Mrs. Morgan didn’t look at me, but softly rubbed my nylon encasedthighs with her hands.”Nancy. Hi. This is Jane Morgan. How are things?…..Great…..Oh really? That’s very special…..Yes Alison isdoing a perfect job in the play. We’re very happy with herperformance.””Nancy, the reason I’m calling is that my niece Christine isvisiting from New York, and has decided to join our production.Well we just tried on her pixie costume, and it’s obvious thatthis girl needs a bra…..Yes, quite developed for an eleven yearold…..Anyway, I figured that you might know where we can gether properly fitted…..Umhmm…..Sears and Penneys?…..Whatabout a lingerie shop?…..Too small?….. Hmm…..Really?…..Iwould have sworn the girl’s shop in the strip mall would have agreat selection…..No dice hmm?…..Well fine…..What’sthat?….. That would be wonderful!…..Great. we’ll see you inabout fifteen minutes….Yes, she certainly is veryexcited…..What? Who should I call?…..OK…..No problem.” Myaunt blew a kiss in my direction.”Great. Thanks again for your help. Bye bye.” She hung upthe phone, and turning towards me, she pulled down the shouldersof my leotard exposing my borrowed training bra. “Guess what?” she exclaimed.To excited to talk, I waited for her response.”Mrs. Schmidtt has an appointment to get Alison fitted for abra too this afternoon, and she offered to take us along. Isn’tthat great””Wow” I thought to myself. “I’ll be able to see what’sgoing to happen to me before it happens.” Besides, I thoughtAlison was one of the cuter members of the theater troupe, andthe opportunity to see her in a bra, overcame any embarrassmentabout being seen in one myself.”She continued. “The only thing to do is to get dressed, andWhy don’t you go upstairs and take off your dance clothes. Put onyour panties and white stockings, and I’ll be up to help you getdressed. I have to call the store.” She winked in my direction. “Call me when you are ready.” She handed me my vest, my pair ofwhite knee highs, and a pair of girl’s flats and I headed intoher bedroom.I carefully removed my leotard, bra and tights, and put onmy vest and kneehighs. My feet fit perfectly into the blueleather shoes. They felt weird, almost like I was wearingsandals. I grabbed her bathrobe from behind the door, and headedback to the kitchen to ask her what to wear.When I reached the top of the stairs, I could overhear Mrs.Morgan talking on the phone, and I couldn’t believe what she wassaying.”Sandy, this is Jane Morgan calling. I’m a friend of NancySchmidtts, and I hope you can help me….I have a special littlemiss named Chrissy staying with me for the weekend. Chrissy is mybest friend’s son. My friend caught him dressing up in hissister’s clothes, and she decided to have him dress as a girl aspunishment. You know, pinafore punishment? Anyway, my sisterasked me to really reinforce the experience, and what better waythan to have him fitted for a bra. Nancy said that you would befitting Alison this afternoon and might able to accommodate ourlittle priss at the same time.”I noticed that Mrs. Morgan was smiling something fierce.”Great…..Yes…..Yes that would be perfect. Just make surethat you treat him just like an eleven year old girl…..Great.I’ll see you in a half hour.” She hung up the phone, and headedback upstairs.Without a sound, I tip-toed back into the bedroom, and putmy dance stuff away in my bureau. Although I was excited about myfirst bra fitting, turning into a girl, and seeing Alison in abra and slip, I knew that I wasn’t being punished for dressing upin girl’s clothes. This whole thing wasn’t my fault, right? Ishould probably speak up, and question her grasp of the facts.Thinking better of this route, I decided to make believethat I didn’t overhear the conversation, and play along with theroutine.”All right now. We have to get you dressed.” Aunty enteredthe room and walked over to the bed.”Take off my robe, and put this on.” She handed me a girl’sfull slip.”Yes mom.” I could tell it was a girl’s slip because itdidn’t have much room for a bra in the top. Although I had neverworn a full slip before, I figured it was just like putting on mynightgown. I put my arms through the satin ribbon straps, andlowered it over my body. My aunt adjusted the shoulder straps sothat the slip hung evenly just above my knees.”Now you have to get your hair trimmed in a styleappropriate for a pixie. You and Alison both have an appointmentto get your hair done at 4:00. First though, we have to get youfitted for your bra. Now I can’t bring a boy into the girl’sfitting room, so you’ll have to dress as a girl for theafternoon. You’re going to have to make the change soon, so youmight as well start today. You shouldn’t have any trouble.”She picked up a pink girl’s polyester blouse and afterpulling my arms through the sleeves, began buttoning up thefront.”But mom. I’ve never gone out in public as a girl before.Everyone will find out that I’m a boy dressed like a girl.” Myaunt finished buttoning the blouse, and lowered a blue, pleatedjumper over my head.”Don’t worry your silly little head. You make a perfectgirl, if you only do what I tell you. No one will know thedifference.” She zipped and buttoned the back of the jumper, andsecured the shoulder sashes to the buttons on the front of theskirt. She sat me down at her dressing table, dabbed my cheekswith a bit of blush and powder, and applied a coating of lipgloss to my lips “to make them wet and kissable” like all theother girls my age. A few pumps of hair spray, and a bit ofteasing, turned my femme boy face into the perfect depiction of ap*****n girl.”So far, how does it feel to be starting on the journey tobecoming a young lady?” “Great!” I beamed. With that, she handed me a purse, and weheaded into town.CHAPTER 11 – CHRISSY GETS A BUSTAs the car hurdled down the highway, a zillion things weregoing through my mind. First off, I hadn’t worn a skirt since theHalloween party at my grandmother’s house, and the feeling ofwearing this short jumper was very different from the girl’sslacks that I was use to. The blouse, slip and panties were shinyand very slippery, so every movement caused the clothes to ticklemy skin. In addition, girl’s blouses were kind of thin, so thetop of my slip showed through the fabric. Looking in the mirror,I looked like a little girl, but after my trip to the beautysalon, and a new bra, I hoped that I would look like any otherteenager.Second, I had no idea what to expect at the hairdresser.Back when I was five, I had asked my grandmother about her weeklytrip to Melissa’s Beauty Salon. I had already had my hair cut ata men’s barbershop, and knew that her hair looked a lot differentthan mine. Hers smelled like perfume, had lots of curls, andstayed in place no matter what she did. Mine was straight, gotall mussed up in the wind, and smelled like my dad’s aftershave.She told me that Melissa’s salon made people pretty, and didspecial things to girls my age who wanted to be pretty. I toldher that I wanted to be pretty just like at Halloween, and askedher if I could have my hair done like hers. She and my motherboth laughed, and told me if I was good, that someday they mightmake an appointment for me.Alas, my grandmother died soon after, and my mother wasnever home long enough to take me. I had asked my dad about it,and he told me that boys weren’t suppose to be pretty, and thatmother would never take me to such a place. Now here I was,sitting in a car, and all my wishes were coming true.

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