Journal 1/6 TG femdom, unfin

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

Here's another good one I wish someone would finish - AD

CHAPTER I - THE DEVELOPING TEEN

Hi. I'm Chrissy Parsomes. Many boys like myself got their start wearing girl's clothes by stumbling into cross dressing by accident. Many tried on their sister's clothes when the family was away from the house, or dressed as a girl for a Halloween masquerade party. My introduction to dressing came in a more insidious fashion. To make a long story short, my step-mother decided 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 a 12 year-old girl. Here's how it happened.

For most of my school career, I attended a small, private school in NYC. My mother was a noted archaeologist, and didn't spend much time with the family. Most of the time, she spent months on end, digging in Africa for artifacts. My father was a mild mannered secretary, and didn't have a lot of parenting skills. As a result, mom enrolled me in this residential private school beginning in third grade. I usually saw my parents twice a year during Christmas and summer vacations.

During the fall of my eighth grade year, my father shocked the family by announcing that he decided to divorce my mother to marry Mrs. Locke, his boss at the company. I had met Ms. Locke a few times when I had to get report cards signed, and knew her to be a dominant woman whose sickeningly sweet persona seemed to envelope everyone who came into contact with her. Strange to say, it almost seemed like she treated everyone like a ten year old girl. "Sweetie this", and "honey that", she always commented how beautiful my eyelashes were, or how attractive my school uniform looked. Although I didn't relish the thought of having this woman as a step-mother, I was sort-of excited about the prospect of being treated in a feminine manner.

Ever since I was eight years old, I had harbored secret desires to live life as a girl. I spent October break of that year at my paternal grandmother's apartment, since my parents had been called out of town to a big anthropology convention. She lived in a big high rise in central Manhattan. Since Halloween happened to fall on that particular weekend, my grandmother had accepted an invitation on my behalf to attend a costume party at one of her neighbor's apartments. When my grandmother indicated that she didn't have time to get me a costume, her lady friend told my grandmother that her daughter had some pretty party dresses that would probably fit me, and that I could come dressed as a little girl. My grandmother thought this was a great idea, and borrowed everything that I would need to make the transformation complete, Pink nylon panties, white lace trimmed anklets, Mary Jane shoes, rhumba over-panties with ruffles, a fluffy bouffant slip with a form-fitting elastic top, and a pretty pink satin party dress with long sheer sleeves and a pink ribbon sash that tied in the back. Although I was a bit apprehensive about dressing in the clothes of the opposite sex, my grandmother convinced me how wonderful it would be. We spent the whole afternoon before the party playing dress up, complete with makeup, hair curlers, and fingernail polish. As soon as I donned the first pair of nylon panties, I knew that I wanted to be a girl. As a result, I had a great time at the party. I made a perfect specimen of a little girl, and no one figured out on the trip over that I was a boy dressed in little girl's clothing. Since this dress up session was our little secret, I never told my mom or dad about it, though the experience remained in the forefront of my dreams for years after. Soon after, my grandmother passed away, thus putting an end to any possibility of wearing girl's clothes in the foreseeable future. When ever possible, I tried on my mother's panties and slips, but the experience wasn't the same. My mother was an avowed feminist, and wore utilitarian cotton underwear. She never wore a bra or stockings, so I had to make do with what was available. As a result, I didn't have much of a chance to do anything about my wishes to learn to be a girl.

Weird things started to happen as soon as I arrived home for the Christmas break. Mrs. Locke (she refused to give up her maiden name) refused to allow me to get my usual haircut. She said that my hair was much too beautiful to cut, and that I should start to wear it long. She required that I wash and condition 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 night to "help keep the hair out of my eyes." I wanted to object, because my feminine desires had been a secret between my grandmother and I, but I had a feeling that her sweet feminine exterior masked a dislike for males that could make my life difficult during the coming summer. Wanting to start my relationship with my step-mom off on the right foot, I acquiesced to her demands.

Due to my stressful academic life, I had always been a nail biter. As soon as she noticed me nibbling on my fingers, she demanded that I stop biting my nails, To help with this new rule, she began to manicure my nails, and kept them coated with clear polish "to keep them from chipping." Soon my nails resembled those of many of the girls in my class. Even my evening attire changed. Pajamas were out. In their place, I found Lanz flannel nightgowns to wear (she called them sleep shirts).

Former vacations were spent hanging around with the guys from the old neighborhood. This vacation however, it seemed like every minute of the day was spent shopping for girl's clothes for Mrs. Locke's many nieces, and I often had to hold the pending purchases while she looked for other items. This was great. Before, the closest I ever got to girl's clothing was passing through the department on the way to the boy's section. Now I was able to closely examine the beginner bras, slips and dresses. Although I was excited to be able to touch such items again, I would have died if this had become public knowledge. Therefore it was very embarrassing to be asked to hold dresses up against my body, or to choose which color leotard my cousin Nancy would like. Soon though, it happened so many times that I wasn't even embarrassed to carry nylon, ruffled panties, tights or slips to the register for payment.

The worst part of the whole deal came about when she suddenly took me out of my old boarding school, and registered me at a place that I had never heard of called the Petite Fille Academy. Not only did I have to spend my last week of vacation filling out reams of paperwork, but I also had to go for a physical exam with the school physician.

After the usual array of questions, followed by the typical tests that one expects during such an exam, the doctor told my step-mother that I was suffering from a serious vitamin deficiency, and that starting immediately, she would have to put me on a year long, vitamin treatment program. The doctor gave me an injection right there in the office, and handed my mother a prescription for vitamins to be filled at the school pharmacy. The vitamins were unlike anything I had ever seen. They looked like big purple footballs.

I entered my new school at the end of January, and settled into a routine not completely different from my old school. The Petite Fille Academy was a former girls finishing school, that decided to admit boys. Although a coed school now, most of the students were girls. The few boys, if you could call them that, looked like hippies, with long hair, and fair features. Most wore clothes that looked more like girl's slacks and blouses than boys pants. No football players, or jocks here. All seemed effeminate to varying degrees. School uniforms were gray slacks and white shirts for the boys, and navy blue pleated skirts, white tights, white shiny blouses and black mary janes for the girls. If it wasn't for the girl's skirts, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the girls and many of the boys.

Despite my adoption of a routine, the change of scenery seemed to prompt a similar change in my personality. Despite taking the vitamins every day, I felt sort of weak, and quite a bit laid back. I originally missed the fact that PF Academy lacked soccer, baseball and track, but after three weeks at the school, I rarely thought about these male activities any more. I actually began to enjoy the home ec, dance and baton twirling classes. I was spending a lot of time hanging around with the girls on my hall, and soon fit in with the group as one of the girls. Talking about boyfriends, makeup and fashions was much more interesting than sports, or cars.

Before I knew it, summertime rolled around, and I was excited about the prospect of seeing all of my old friends back in New York. Unfortunately, my step mother had other ideas. As soon as I arrived home, she told me that I was going to spend the summer at her sister's house in San Francisco, and that I would be flying out of JFK the next morning.

The next morning, I discovered that Mrs. Locke had already packed my suitcase, and while she had packed toiletries, a Lanz nightshirt, and a few other items, she neglected to include all of my clothes. For some reason, I had gained a lot of weight in the hips that semester, and nothing seemed to fit. I told my step mom before I arrived home about this weight gain, and she told me not to worry. She promised to take me shopping as soon as I got home. When I asked about the missing clothes, she told me that since nothing fit, there was no point in carrying clothes on the plane. My aunt would take me shopping when I arrived in California.

CHAPTER II - CALIFORNIA CHANGES

When I arrived in California, Ms. Locke's sister picked me up at the airport. Aunt Clara was the same age and had the same build as my step mother, but was considerably more domineering. I quickly learned that she didn't like boys very much, and was only letting me stay with her to give her sister a break from child care chores. She informed me that she didn't want me hanging around all summer, so she had already arranged for me to get a summer job working for a friend of hers. She had already scheduled an interview during the next afternoon, and warned me not to blow it. She told me that if I gave her any aggravation, I might find myself in summer school instead of on vacation. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled, but went along with her demands. I figured a job was a lot better than summer school. I asked her when we could go shopping for clothes for me to wear, but she indicated that the shopping trip could wait. Her friend would provide me with a uniform for work time, and she had a few things that would fit me in the interim.

The next morning, Aunt Clara took me downtown for my interview, which happened to be at a Doctor's office. Dr Jennifer Nelson was a friend of Aunt Clara's and needed someone to do basic office work, and filing. Although Dr. Nelson kept asking me a lot of questions about my skills, and experience, I got the sense that the interview was just a formality. At the end of our meeting, 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. Nelson told my aunt that she could pick up my uniforms at the Angels of Mercy uniform shop down the street. Her secretary would take care of phoning in the style and size information so that the order would be ready that afternoon.

CHAPTER III - MY NEW UNIFORM The next morning, my aunt woke me up at 5:00 AM to get me ready for my first day at work. My aunt told me that she wanted me to look very attractive for my new boss, and that she had picked up everything I needed when she paid for the uniforms during the prior afternoon. After climbing out of my nightshirt, my aunt led me to a bubbly, lilac scented bath of steaming water. After a good soak, my aunt washed and conditioned my hair, and then picked up a pink girl's razor. She told me that the new uniforms were very expensive and made of a very delicate fabric that would pull if I didn't have smooth skin. Despite my fantasies of being a girl, I had never had any part of my body shaved. When I pulled my legs away from her, she grabbed them and told me that she didn't spend all that money on clothes to have me ruin them the first week. Within five minutes, my legs and underarms were smooth and shiny, and I was out of the tub drying myself with a fluffy pink towel. When I was dried off, my aunt wrapped my hair in 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 bath mat. I began to protest when she grabbed the scented, women's body powder, but she began dusting me with the sweet smelling powder anyway. In a tone that indicated that she rapidly losing patience with me, she said that perspiration would also ruin the uniform, and that the powder and extra strong deodorant would help to keep me dry. When I told her that I would prefer straight baby powder and men's deodorant, she snapped that she wouldn't waste the money to buy me special toiletries when I was leaving in three months. Her things would have to do.

She coated my underarms with her deodorant, and told me to keep my arms up while the feminine lotion dried. She went into the adjoining bedroom to get what I thought was my only pair of boy's underpants.

When she returned, I couldn't believe what she held in her hand. Panties! She walked over to the padded dressing bench across from the tub in the bathroom, and proceeded to lay out a brand new pair of nylon girl's panties, a package of shimmery white tights, a satin girl's vest, and a boxed control brief for teenagers. I backed up toward the wall, and proceeded to tell her that there was no way I was going to wear girl's underwear. I told her that women's toiletries were one thing, but girl's undies 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 of uniform material necessitates underthings that are slippery and shiny to avoid pulls and wrinkles. If you try to wear the uniform with boy's things, it'll ruin the expensive material. Besides, you have to interface with the public in your new job, and will have 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 for more durable material?"

"Because" she glared with her hands on her hips, "Dr. Nelson picked out the uniform herself, and that is what she wants you to wear. 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 the tags. The panties were cut very high on the leg opening, and had a small, triangular shaped, lace panel on the front. The material was almost satin-like in quality, and as my Aunt guided my feet into the openings and slid them up my smooth legs, the soft material caused my penis to begin to get bigger. "See, that's why you need to wear a girdle dear" she giggled. "We can't have that bulging out of your pants." She tucked my penis down between my legs and finished pulling the panties up to my waist. I thought that my weight gain would make me difficult to fit, but I discovered that the panties fit perfectly. Although I was very embarrassed standing in front of my Aunt in a pair of pretty panties, I suddenly realized how nice they looked and felt against the hips, made chubby by the starchy school food. The high cut leg opening showed a lot of my leg, and the stretchy satin really made my bottom look....well....pretty. A smile crept over 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. I suddenly noticed something interesting. The stern, domineering demeanor that initially characterized her attitude that morning had melted into a doting, mother hen-type personality, that seemed to increase with every garment that I put on. Instructing me to put my hands over my head, she picked up the white, satin vest and lowered it over my clean shaven body. The edges of the vest were lined with a small, frilly lace, and a shiny bow adorned the bodice at the neckline. She tucked the end of the vest into my panties, and sat me down on the bench. She next picked up the white tights and began removing them from the package.

Aunt Clara said that shimmery tights were a lot shinier than plain stockings, which would help keep my uniform nice and new. She took the white garment from the package, rolled up a leg and placed the toe over my arched extended foot. She helped me to my feet, and soon the stretchy top covered my pretty white panties.

"Don't you love the way pretty stockings make your legs look so shapely? That's why girls wear them dear. You're going to look fantastic in your uniform."

"Yes Aunty" I replied like some zombie from a late night horror film. The material did indeed glisten in the light from the vanity mirror. I felt like I was in a dream world. The sweet aroma of the bath powder coupled with the soft caresses of my new underthings took away all of the misgivings I had about dressing up in front of my aunt. I suddenly looked forward to trying on my new uniform and joining the ranks of the working world as a young woman.

"I know you do dear. You just wait to see how much fun we are going to have in the next couple of months. I know you'll be happy that you decided to stay with Aunty Clara. Now then, lets try on your first girdle."

She looked at me with a wry look on her face. "I remember when my mother bought me my first girdle. Normally girls your age don't start wearing girdles until they are teenagers. Your only eleven right?"

I nodded, transfixed by her voice.

"I am sure that your mother wouldn't mind you starting early though. This is so pretty and will give you such a nice smooth outline under your uniform. See, it's designed especially for young teenagers just like you!" She took out the garment, and handed me the now empty box.

I blushed when I looked at the picture of the teenaged girl modeling the girdle. She too was wearing stockings, but she also was 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 a teen's mother or aunt.

"Helps her stay smooth under all of her fashions. Satin front 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 pre-teens just starting to show." I giggled nervously.

"Maybe I need to start wearing a bra too?" I looked sweetly into 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 a bra yet dear. After all, boys don't have much to put into one!"

I suddenly awakened from my dreamy state, and remembered that I was a boy dressed in panties and tights. I felt very embarrassed with the comment and tears started coming to my eyes.

"It's ok dear. Don't cry honey." She put her arms around me and buried my face in the nylon of her lacy blouse.

"All boys would love to do what you are doing, but they just don't get the chance. I promise that I'll take you shopping for a bra when you're ready."

Her smile made me relax, even though I couldn't tell if she was kidding or being serious. On one hand, I wanted to fantasize what it would feel like to be the girl on the box, wearing a satiny training bra. On the other hand, I was a boy, and was going along with this uniform to stay out of summer school. She turned to me with the girdle in her hand and lifted my chin. "Would you someday like to play dress up with Aunty, and wear a dress like a real girl? Maybe then Aunty can teach you about makeup, hair styling, slips, and dresses. Would you like that dear?" Her gaze melted into my heart. I nodded, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"I'll bet you'd look beautiful in a pretty petticoat and heels." She dropped my chin and held up the new girdle, and squatted down next to me. "Anyway, we have to get moving if we're not going to be late. Step into the legs dear."

I did what I was told, and soon, the tight, elastic garment was in place covering my male appendage. With the girdle, there was no bump or bulge to give away the fact that I was a boy in girl's clothes. Despite the fact that many of the girls in the upper grades of my school always complained about the girdles that were mandatory attire for female students over the age of 13, I enjoyed the feeling of security that the garment provided. My cute buns that suddenly chubbed out during the last year at school, looked firm and toned under the white elastic. I secretly hoped that I would be able to wear my new girdle all summer, even under my boy's clothes.

It was almost as if she read my mind. "Now then. There's enough underthings in your dresser to carry you for the week. There's no point in buying any boy's underwear since you will not have a need for it five days out of seven. You'll have to wear your panties and vest on weekends. You don't mind do you?"

I was back under her spell. "No ma'am. Can I wear my girdle too?"

She responded "Of course dear. I didn't buy socks for you so you'll have to wear tights. Tights stay up so much better with a girdle. Next summer, you'll be old enough to wear a girdle with garters and stockings just like Aunty. Besides you have to keep working on that figure!" She laughed as she led me out into the bed room. She sat me down on the bed, picked up the dry cleaning bag, and unzipped the plastic covering. That's when I got my first look at my uniform.

Dr. Nelson choice was obviously designed for a girl. The slacks were white polyester like those worn by most nurses. They zipped and buttoned in the back, and had been tailored to my waist measurement since there was no elastic in the waistband. The top was a plain, white polyester blouse, with buttons in the back. The material was very similar to the nylon on the front of my panty girdle, all shiny and slippery. My aunt unbuttoned the blouse, and after helping me into the sleeves, buttoned up the back. Unfortunately, there was a problem.

"Hmm. This won't do at all. I can see your vest right through the thin fabric of the blouse, and it looks terrible. The vest is too clingy. You look like a little girl. I guess you'll have to borrow one of my camisoles. She left the room, and soon, returned with a plain nylon camisole with spaghetti straps. Off came the blouse and vest, and on went the camisole.

"Much better dear" as she buttoned up the blouse again. "For now you can borrow mine, but this afternoon, I will pick you up a few at the store."

Next came the slacks, which she helped me pull up over my hips. When zipped and buttoned, the slacks fit over my chubby hips like a glove.

"These slacks fit you much better than your boy's jeans. You have hips just like a teenage girl." She picked up the white nurses shoes and began lacing them up onto my feet. She noticed my blushing embarrassed look and took my hand.

"Don't be embarrassed dear. All members of this family have big hips. There's no real difference between boys jeans and junior jeans, except in the hip area. You really should wear what's comfortable. Don't you agree that you do fit better in these slacks?"

I nodded my head. She stepped behind me and put her hands on my hips.

"See, they hug your hips smoothly, but also fit your smaller waist. Boy's jeans are the same width from the hips up. Your own pants are tight in the hips and baggy in the waist. You even told me yourself."

She took me by the hand and led me over to her dressing table. After a bit of hair spray, some work with a curling iron, and some powder and blush for my cheeks (to absorb oil and prevent acne she said), she pronounced me ready for work. We climbed into the car, and drove me to the office promising to pick me up by 5:00 PM.

CHAPTER IV - FINALLY WORKING

When Dr. Nelson arrived, she immediately complemented me on my uniform and overall dress. She told me that my aunt had done a great job with me, and that I looked very professional for my first day of work. I commented that I thought I looked too feminine, but she reassured me that all medical office help dressed this way. She said that it calmed the patients. She even complemented me on my camisole indicating that it looked more stylish than girlish.

Soon I was busy at work, greeting patients, sorting files, and stuffing envelopes with bills. By the end of the day, I had already become a functional part of the office staff. All of the secretaries and other nurses agreed that I was a perfect addition to the office. The good news was that by the end of the day, I was on a first name basis with everyone. The bad news was that the chief secretary had introduced me as Chrissy to a patient, and the name stuck. After trying to straighten out the mistake, I finally 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 administering the shots, advised continuation with the pills.

Things were also changing at Aunt Clara's house. When I got home from work, I would change out of my uniform, and help Aunty cook dinner. Then after washing the dishes, my aunt would manicure my nails (to make sure they were presentable to the public).

"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 a protector. I kept my nails long on account of my step mother's attempts to stop my nail biting, so by the end of the week, my nails were as long any woman's.

When I asked Aunt Clara to cut them, she forbid me to touch my nails because I would surely mess them up, and told me she would cut them in time. "Besides" she said, "office girls need long nails to work with all that paper. You do want them to consider you to be one of the girls don't you?" As a result, my long nails stayed.

CHAPTER V - FROM BOY TO GIRL

That Sunday night offered the first inkling that my aunt was trying to change me into a girl. All week, I had been wearing my Lanz night shirt to bed, and lately had noticed that the flannel felt weird against my shaved skin. The cotton really itched, and I couldn't get to sleep. I complained to my aunt about it, and on Wednesday, she bought me some pink cotton panties, hoping that the soft cotton would reduce the irritation. It didn't work. They felt too much like my boy's underpants.

By Sunday night, my aunt had lost all patience with me. My tossing and turning all week had kept my aunt from getting a good night sleep, and my her domineering attitude had returned in spades. After a thorough bath, leg shaving, and powdering, she sat me down in my panties and nightgown and began to work on my nails. That's when the problems started.

"Did you get the clear polish that I asked you to pick up when you went to the drug store?." She stopped filing and looked up at me.

I looked at her blankly and responded "What polish? You only told me to get Kleenex and Shampoo." After last night's dinner, my aunt had sent me to the local drug store.

"I told you to get clear polish for your nails. I used the last of it yesterday, and told you to pick up some more. How did you forget?" I sensed that she was getting angry.

"I'm sorry aunty. I didn't mean to forget. I'll walk over tomorrow 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 me with disgust.

"Well, nothing I guess. Tonight we can skip the polish and I'll be extra careful not to break a nail." I sensed that I had better 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 coat on those nails."

A sinister smirk crossed her face. "I guess I'll have to use Pink." She reached for a bottle of Marvelous Mauve polish and grabbed my hand.

"Please aunty, I'll be the laughingstock of the office. I can't wear pink. Please!"

"Pink will match your beautiful new pink blouse I bought you this afternoon. A femme boy like you will love it. It has lace around the collar and is very see through. All the women will be able to see your new camisole!. You'll be so pretty when you go to work on Monday! Now hold still or I'll send you to work in a dress."

She locked my hand to the table, and soon, all ten fingernails and toe nails were painted a beautiful shade of pink. When they were dry, she sent me up to my room to get ready for bed.

Then things got worse. That evening, my cotton nightgown really felt uncomfortable. For some reason, my breasts were very sensitive. Perhaps it was due to the extra-close shaving that my aunt performed on my body, or perhaps I was upset over the feminine manicure. I kept tossing and turning and couldn't fall asleep.

After yelling at me three times to quiet down, Aunt Clara finally lost her temper. Turning on the lights, she stormed into the room.

"Well sissy boy. Don't like your night shirt hmm? Well perhaps 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 her room with my night clothes. Soon she returned.

"If you're going to whine like a girl, then I'm going to treat 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, I realized it was a pink baby doll nighty with matching ruffled rhumba panties just like little girls would wear.

"Put these on first." She threw a pair of plain, pink satin girl's panties, and a pair of pink, shimmery tights into my face.

"Please aunty, I promise I'll be good. Just bring back my night shirt" I begged her to give me another chance.

"You're giving me so much trouble that I think I'll send you to work tomorrow in a dress. Just like a little sissy." She smiled at the tears running down my face.

"Ok. Ok. Please not that. I'll do as you say." I ran over to the bed, and quickly donned the panties and tights.

"Now, pull the lacy panties up over the tights. Aren't they precious honey? So feminine for such a pretty little girl." She picked up the rhumba panties from the bed and handed them to me. I immediately pulled them over my tights. Next, she picked up the nighty and dropped it over my head. As usual, she had picked my size, 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 your nails done. Tomorrow, I am even going to buy you new baby dolls, so you never have to wear those awful night shirts again. Now go to bed little one. Give aunty a kissy." She walked out of the room, and turned out the lights.

The next morning, Aunty allowed me to dress myself in the usual panties, white tights, and girdle. As promised, I kept my pink nails, which did indeed match my new blouse and matching pink camisole. Aunty said that she bought me a pink camisole because she didn't want my lingerie to show under the blouse. The material was so sheer however, that I knew everyone could easily see the lace trim and satin bow on the front. Luckily the day proceeded uneventfully. All of my fellow secretaries commented how nice my nails looked, and how impressed they were that I wanted my nail color to match my new blouse. I figured that they would object to having a boy dress in such a feminine manner, but they told me that they appreciated my aunt's efforts to make me fit in with the rest of the staff.

CHAPTER VI - FAIRY FOR A WEEK

The rest of the week flew by. Every day, my aunt would drop me off at the doctor's office, and would pick me up after work. On Friday, my feminization really shifted into first gear. When I was cleaning up my desk at the end of the day, Dr. Nelson told me that Aunt Clara had called, and had asked her to drive me home. Aunty told Dr. Nelson that she was entertaining a friend and couldn't come to pick me up. I grabbed my new purse that my aunt 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 me how much the other secretaries liked having me as an office assistant. She told me that initially, she wasn't sure how well I was going to fit in with the all-girl office, but after seeing me work, she was happy to see how much effort I expended to get along with everyone. She told me that "the girls" especially liked the new additions to my wardrobe, and they all hoped that I would continue to wear such pretty clothes with my uniform slacks.

"The girls are very conscientious about their appearance" Dr. Nelson said, "and were concerned that you might clash with their clothes." From these comments, I could only assume that I was really becoming one of the girls. Instead of feeling embarrassed about my pink nails and see through blouse like last night, I now felt proud about how well I was getting along with my co-workers. Not proud enough though, to meet my Aunt's friend dressed in such a feminine manner.

When Dr. Nelson dropped me at the end of the driveway, I quietly entered the house through the back door, and crept upstairs. I changed into the single pair of ill-fitting boy's jeans, and my old gray sweatshirt, and proceeded to wash off the makeup, that made me look so much like a girl. I headed downstairs for supper.

When I rounded the corner into the dining room, I couldn't believe what I saw. There, on the dining room table, amidst the coffee 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 her your pretty panties, tights and nighty, and telling her how much you love dressing up like a cute little girl. Isn't that right?"

I couldn't respond. I was shocked that my Aunt would betray my confidence to the outside world.

"Mrs. Morgan is putting on a play at the girl's club, and her 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. How could 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't think he would look anything like a girl."

My aunt smiled and quickly responded. "Well, why don't you see for yourself. I am sure Chrissy would love to model her pretty new things. She always did want to go to modeling school."

"Aunty, please no." My eyes pleaded for leniency from my Aunt's strange sense of humor. Unfortunately, Mrs. Morgan seemed to warm to the idea of seeing a boy dressed up as a girl.

"Clara, what a great idea. I would love to see Chrissy dressed in her baby doll and panties. Can I give you a hand?"

My aunt grabbed my hand and started to lead me up the stairs to the bedroom. "Grab Chrissy's undies, and lets get started." Mrs. Morgan picked up the panties, tights, and nighty, and the two 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 to my Aunt's bedroom, I had no strength left in my body. Mrs. Morgan pulled the sweatshirt over my head, while Aunt Clara, unbuttoned my jeans, and pulled my underpants down to my ankles. By this time the sweatshirt was over my head, holding my arms from moving. Someone pushed me down onto my back, and in one fell swoop, I was naked on the bed.

"I'm going to throw these boy's clothes in the trash compactor. Since I dressed him last night, I'll let you have the honors tonight." My aunt headed down the stairs carrying the last tie to my masculine life. Considering the circumstances, I decided to plead for clemency.

"Please Mrs. Morgan. I'm so embarrassed. Just tell Aunty that I am the wrong size, and let me go. Please? Can't you understand how humiliating it is to wear these things?" I pointed to the pile of satin in her hands. Suddenly, this hateful look crossed her face.

"Of course. That's why I want to take part in making you Aunty's pretty little princess. I already know that you'll fit into Melissa's costume, but I've always wanted to dress a boy as a girl. Now I have the perfect opportunity to do as I wish with my own little boy! And let me tell you sister, if you think that this is bad, you just wait. You think you'll just be able to wear your costume over your jeans? Guess again. I am going to do everything I can to make you into a proper little girl. Just wait 'till dress rehearsal. You do know why they call it dress rehearsal don't you?!"

I shook my head.

Well you'll find out soon enough. Now then, unless you want me to tell your aunt to send you to work in a dress, I would suggest we get started." She picked up the plain panties, knelt in front of me, and held open the waist. "Let's see how Chrissy puts on her satiny panties."

Resigned to my fate, I lifted my shaved leg, and pointed my toe toward the floor. Mrs. Morgan put the opening, first under my right 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 than those nasty briefs. Now, lets get your tights." She picked up the pink Danskins.

"Oooh, shimmery tights. Aunty really knows how to make her little boy pretty." She rolled the toe of the stockings over my feet, and carefully pulled them up over my bottom.

As the tights reached my waist, my aunt reentered the bedroom.

"Doesn't he make an adorable niece?" my aunt gushed as she surveyed her nephew, once again clad in panties and pink tights.

"Absolutely. You know you were right. This IS much better than 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? I didn't think that anyone sold these anymore." Not waiting for an answer, she pulled them over my tights before my aunt could respond.

"The Proper Princess in Santa Clara of course. The proprietors are a couple of elderly women who remember just how prettily girls dressed back in the sixties. They have factories in the Orient that make old fashioned petticoats, rhumba panties, bouffant slips, girdles, garter belts and sweater bras, all for girls from 5 - teen. Of course, they also stock things for special boys like Chrissy. You should see some of the Nylon party dresses that they have in the shop. Chrissy would look great in a party dress. I even saw some satin, sanitary napkin belts for teenagers there. Talk about sugar and spice and everything nice!"

Without looking up from the task of adjusting the fit of my lacy overpanty, Mrs. Morgan continued with the conversation.

"Wow. You don't see those things around much any more. I always thought belted napkins were much more feminine than those stick in kind. Did you buy Chrissy one? She might be having her period soon!" Both women burst out laughing.

"No not yet. I think it is still too early for Chrissy to make the transition from childhood to young womanhood. All in due time thought. I did tell them about Chrissy, and they thought that having a nephew who really wanted to be a niece was divine. They told me to bring our Chrissy in anytime to start building a wardrobe suitable for an eleven year old."

By this time, Mrs. Morgan had lowered the baby doll over my head, and was fluffing my hair.

"Well, are you going to take her shopping?" I looked up in horror, waiting for the answer that might determine my future fate.

"Well, maybe. It depends on whether or not Chrissy behaves himself." Aunty looked at her friend. "See, didn't I tell you that Chrissy would make a perfect pixie."

Mrs. Morgan looked at me and spun me around to get a good look at my new clothes. "Chrissy. I never would have believed it, but you look absolutely exquisite. Just like a ten year old girl." She reinforced my humiliation by patting my panty clad bottom. 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 down next to me on the bed. "I am the director of a play being staged by the Carlisle Academy Girls Theater Company. It's called "The Fairy Princess in Pixieland", and it's all about this little girl who dreams that she travels to the land of Pixies, and is changed into a fairy princess. The play opens in one week, and one of our head 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 to mention our little problem to your aunt, and she mentioned how much you enjoyed your school theater group, and how much you'd love to join our little production. And guess what? You really ARE the perfect size for the costume. Now I know that we have an all girls theater company, but you shouldn't have any trouble. After all, in your nighty, you really do look just like one of the girls."

She continued. "Now the part is real easy. There are no lines to memorize or anything. All you have to do is sit there, and smile pretty. You'll even get to wear stage makeup like a grownup!" She seemed to enjoy the fact that I couldn't blush more if I tried.

On one hand, I really wanted to say yes, but would be mortified to go out in front of people dressed like that. Besides, I was so angry over this intentional humiliation at the hands of my aunt, I had no intention on cooperating. I took two deep breaths, and responded.

"Thank you Mrs. Morgan, but I don't think so. I have to wear these pajamas because I am allergic to the cotton nightshirts that my mom bought for me. I don't really want to be one of the girls." Things were proceeding so fast, that I was terrified that this "one of the girls" thing was getting too far out of hand.

Suddenly my aunt dropped a bombshell. "Well dear, if you aren't one of the girls, then why are you wearing pink nail polish? Perhaps you'd also like to show Mrs. Morgan your new panty girdle." She turned to Mrs. Morgan. "How many boys do you know who wear teen panty girdles? He even asked if we could go shopping 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 you know!"

Mrs. Morgan looked at my aunt and smiled. "Clara, you really are still living in the sixties. A training bra is very appropriate for an eleven year old. Some girls in our theater troupe who wear them are only ten years old. Now then how about it 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 last night's session. It was obvious that this was a set up and that I couldn't get out of this mess. Sensing victory, my aunt didn't wait for me to respond.

"Of course Chrissy would love to be in your play. When does rehearsal 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 the costume tomorrow afternoon to see if any alterations are necessary. 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 developed Chrissy 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 as possible. "I am not a her, and I don't need a bra!" I stood up and crossed my hands in front of me in an attempt to hide my feminine fingernails.

"Let us be the judge of that young lady." Both women giggled. "We can't have your boobies bouncing around under your pixie costume, now can we?" The giggles turned to laughter as both women headed for the door.

As Aunt Clara bid Mrs. Morgan good-bye, I sat back in the chair, too weary to contemplate my latest humiliation.

"I'm not doing it. I am not a girl, and I don't like being called one. Who do you think I am? Your niece? Get real!" I turned away with disgust.

"Enough of that impertinence young lady. Let's get something straight." She grabbed my chin tightly in her hand, and looked me straight in the eyes. "If I tell you that you are a girl, then you will be a girl!. I can easily send photos of you in your nighty to your mother, or your friends at school. I can dress you in 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 to make this 1000 times worse for you!"

She released my chin, and sat down on the bed. "I told Jane that you would help her out, and you are going to follow through on that promise.

What choice did I have? I already knew how much she enjoyed humiliating me. If I refused the part, she would make sure that everyone knew that I was a sissy boy, a femme, or a fairy. If I did go along, I might be able to keep this humiliating summer under wraps. Besides, despite what Mrs. Morgan threatened, costumes did go over your original clothes, and I probably could wear my boy's underpants and socks to cement my status in front of these other girls. Aunty would HAVE to go along with that.

And the bra stories? Probably just designed to scare me into going along with the deal. What did I have to put in a bra anyway?

"all right, I agree. But as long as you promise to cool the girl stuff from now on!"

"Of course dearest, your the sweetest!" She kissed me on the forehead. "I'll even let you wear your nightshirt tonight, instead of your baby doll. See, I know that you want to be Aunty's little man." She strode over to the closet, opened the door, and lifted my nightshirt out of the laundry basket.

"Oh, I'm sorry Chrissy. I didn't wash your nightshirt. You don't mind wearing your baby doll to bed do you? I promise to wash it tomorrow." She kissed me again and hugged me to her body. Mrs. Morgan 'the bitch' was gone, and the sweet, loving mother figure had returned. She was being so sweet and all, that I totally believed her words.

"No aunty. I don't mind." Besides, the nylon did feel much better than the cotton.

"Perfect. Now go brush your teeth, and I'll see you in the morning. 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 be disturbed. Now I suggest that you hit the sack. It's really getting late."

After I brushed my teeth, she led me over to my bed, and tucked in the covers around me. "Isn't Mrs. Morgan nice?" she exclaimed as she turned out the lights.

As I closed my eyes, I said to myself "Yeah. Mrs. Morgan is perfect....as a witch." Secretly, I was enjoying the opportunity to fulfill many childhood fantasies about becoming a girl, but my transformation was proceeding along much too fast. I hoped that soon, things would get better, and this girlish stuff would slow down. I didn't know how wrong I was.

CHAPTER 7 - THE COSTUME

Due 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, my aunt breezed into my room, pulled up the shades, leaving me blinking in the strong sun.

"Wake up dearest. Today's costume fitting day! Mrs. Morgan just called and came up with a great idea. She suggested that you attend this weekend's afternoon rehearsals to get a feel for your part. Since I have work to do, Mrs. Morgan suggested that you could stay with her for the weekend, and she would take you to the theater. Isn't that sweet of her?"

"Indubitably." I tried to muster as much sarcasm as possible. Somehow I knew that this would not be as simple as a lift to rehearsal, but I didn't see that I had much choice in the matter.

She pulled off my covers and headed for the bathroom. "I'll run your bath, and while your in the tub, I'll lay out your clothes. Mrs. Morgan lent you some boyish slacks and shirts that belonged to her daughter. I told her about your chubby hips, and she thought that these would fit you instead of buying brand new clothes. I'll leave your undies on the chair."

Resigned to my fate, I took off the baby doll, panties, and tights, and after putting them in the laundry basket, I grabbed a fresh towel and headed for the bathroom. As I hung up the towel next to the hot, steaming tub, I noticed the usual pink nylon panties, 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 day at 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 I have to wear these other things?"

My aunt poked her head into the bathroom. "Because silly. In Dr. Nelson's office, you have to fit in with a group that is much older than yourself. At Sunday's rehearsal, you be with girls who are younger just like you. Besides, Mrs. Morgan sent them along with the slacks and shirts. Now hurry up. Mrs. Morgan is expecting you in 3/4 of an hour. Make sure you shave your legs too. They are getting stubbly. Don't bother with your hair. You don't have time this morning."

I didn't see any stubble, but did as I was told anyway. In fifteen minutes, I quickly completed my bath, took care of my legs and underarms, and quickly rinsed off the suds from the bubble bath. I hopped out of the tub, dried my smooth body, dusted myself with bath powder, applied deodorant, and slid on the undergarments laying on the dressing bench. I hurried into my aunt's bedroom.

There on the bed, lay a pair of pale blue stirrup pants, a soft pullover sweater and a lavender blouse with buttons on the front. I pulled on the pants, pulled the stirrup under my feet, buttoned up my blouse, and pulled on my sweater. My aunt combed my hair with a part in the middle, and after a few dabs of facial powder, we were ready to go. We hopped in the car, and drove across town to Mrs. Morgan's neighborhood. With a kiss on the face, she dropped me off in front of the house, and drove away as I rang the bell. Almost as soon as I pushed the doorbell, the door opened.

"Good morning Chrissy. How did you sleep in your pretty nighty last night? Do you like the clothes that I dropped off last 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 get rid of this coffee, we can get started with the costume. I know you'll like it since it's much prettier than your baby dolls!" She closed the door behind me, and led me through the living room and into the kitchen where she rinsed out her cup.

"You know, your aunt told me all about your wanting to be a girl. She said that your step-mother found pictures in the family photo album of you dressed as a girl for a Halloween party when you were 5. She said that your grandmother use to love making you pretty. Was that true?"

I couldn't believe that my grandmother had betrayed our little secret. I also was kind of disappointed that someone else in my family who had seen the pictures didn't pick up where grandma left off. In spite of these feelings, I was terrified of having anything to do with dressing up around an obvious stranger. I shook my head, and started mumbling about Halloween.

Mrs. Morgan quickly cut in. "Well, I hope that you can learn to like being a pretty girl because it will be a lot easier on you if you do. If you choose to fight me on this, it will be 1000 times more humiliating than if you cooperate. Do you want me to tell all the neighbors the newest pixie is really a fairy little boy? Hmm? Wouldn't it be a lot easier if everyone thought that you were just another girl?"

She had a point. I didn't relish the thought of wearing a tutu, tights and makeup while looking like a boy. I wanted to avoid attention to get the whole mess over with. The humiliation of being crossdressed in public was a lot worse than getting the chance to fulfill my dreams again. Mrs. Morgan's voice interrupted my train of thought.

"Besides, if you enjoy being made a girl as much as everyone says, we can have so much fun together this weekend. I've always wanted to dress a pretty boy as a girl, and you'd make a perfectly darling new daughter. I promise I won't tell anyone as long as you tell me not to. It will be our little secret." She smiled and waited for my answer.

Well, the syrupy sound of her voice worked its magic, and the soft touch of her hand erased all fear of public exposure. It brought back all of the fantastic memories of my last visit to grandma'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 find out. I'll bet you'd love to wear all kinds of makeup wouldn't you? Did your grandmother put makeup on you?" She picked up my hand, and looked into my face.

I nodded sheepishly, while a broad smile crept across my lips.

"Well, if you want, I can put makeup on you too! Well, why don't we get started making my new daughter pretty." She picked up my hand and led me upstairs into the master bedroom of the house.

There were clothes laid out all over the queen sized bed, and I started to shake when I began to suspect that my new aunty bought all of these pretty things for me.

"Mrs. Morgan, I thought I was just going to try on a pixie costume." I pointed to all of the clothes on the bed. "Who are these pretty things for?"

"Why you dearest." She started unbuttoning my blouse. "First off, you need the proper underfashions for the pixie costume to look right. Second, you're going to need something to wear to get you over to the school for rehearsal. These clothes are much too boyish 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 the Mrs. Morgan stuff, and call me aunty!"

It was almost like falling down the rabbit hole into a fantasy world. My new aunty was going to make me pretty, and no one would know our little secret. She finished with the last button on the blouse, took it off my shoulders, and pulled down my stirrup pants.

The tights, panties and vest followed, until I was naked. Her sweet attitude had totally removed any fear or concern on my part about what lay ahead for the weekend. I actually loved the fact that I was standing with no clothes on in front of this strange woman, awaiting my transition from young man to young woman.

"Now for this costume, you need special panties. You really need to wear a girdle to keep you from bulging under the clingy fabric, but a girdle would show under the short puffy skirt. That's why I got you something that should keep you all snug down there."

She picked up a bag, tore open the plastic, and removed a white, elastic garment from the bag.

"This is called a dance belt." she explained as she held up the garment in front of my face. The belt looked like a pair of very-high cut panties without backs. The front was a plain, heavy, satin-like material, triangular in shape, with light lace trim around the edge, and a bow at the waist. In the crotch area, the heavy material narrowed down into a very strong elastic strap, that went all the way up the back to the waist. The waist band itself was a similar kind of white elastic strap that sat low on the hips, but was only 3/4 of an inch in diameter.

She picked up a powder puff, and dusted my private parts to keep them dry and comfortable. Next, she had me place my legs through the loops, and pulled the belt up to my thighs. She reached over to the bed, and picked up what looked like a sanitary napkin that was much thinner than the ones that I saw in my mother's bathroom.

"Now I know how excited young boys can get when they get to wear frills and lace, and we can't have you messing up your costume now can we? So let aunty put this panty liner into your belt to keep you nice and clean. Ok?"

Mesmerized, I nodded agreement. She unpeeled the sticky back, and stuck the liner into the front of the belt. She stood up, stepped behind me, and worked the belt over my hips while tucking me into the front of the garment. As she pulled the belt into place, the back elastic strap disappeared between my cheeks.

"There. Perfect. Next we need tights." She picked up the package, and removed the stockings. The tights were the standard shimmery kind, except this time they were powder blue in color. Since I had been putting on tights for the last two weeks, I took them from my new aunty, and pulled them up over the dance belt.

"My aren't you an expert! Have you been dressing up in secret?"

I shook my head. Turning me around, she surveyed the abbreviated 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 pee pee."

As I looked into the mirror, I could tell that she was right. My tights and dance belt made my penis totally disappear.

"Now dear, the skirt on the costume is very short, so the audience will probably be able to see underneath, so we are going to wear these lacy panties to give them something pretty to look at! See, these are just like your pink ones that you wear under your nighty."

These rhumba panties were even more frilly than the ones my aunt 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. The waist band was hidden in the taffeta, while two white bows graced the hips of the garment.

"What's a petticoat?" I asked as I pulled up the fancy panties.

"Have you ever worn a half slip dear?"

I shook my head. I knew what a slip was, but I wanted her to tell me herself. The way she talked to me made me feel just like her daughter.

"Well, a half slip is just like a nylon skirt with an elastic waist. It gives you modesty under a sheer skirt to keep the boys from seeing your legs. It also protects your stockings and panties from the rough wool or cotton material. A petticoat is a fluffy slip that helps to hold your skirt out nice and wide so that you look like a ballerina."

She held up a white skirt of sorts that looked like it was made of layers and layers of material.

"See? we ordered one with each costume."

The outside layer was a thin, see through, lightweight tulle, which lay over four alternating layers of taffeta and nylon net. The outside layer of taffeta had been embroidered with lace rose flowers which were faintly visible under the tulle. A large nylon bow accented the front. The edges were all lined with lace trim.

Mrs. Morgan motioned me to put my arms over my head, and lowered the petticoat over my head until it hung over my chubby hips. I looked into the mirror and discovered that she was right. The edge of my panties did indeed peek out from underneath the short slip.

Mrs. Morgan walked over to the door, and picked up a garment bag that had been hanging over the edge. She unzipped the bag, and removed the most beautiful pixie costume I had ever seen. It was prettier than anything I ever dreamed about. So pretty in fact, that I felt woozy just thinking that I would soon be wearing such a dance dress. The skirt was made of the same light blue sheer tulle as the outer layer of the petticoat I was now wearing. It was obvious that my pretty petticoat would show through 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 off the hanger. Without any prompting, I put my hands over my head. She guided my hands into the sleeves, and lowered the skirt over my petticoat. I could barely stop shaking as she zipped up the back, and adjusted the dress covering my body.

"Oh aunty! It's beautiful. It feels incredible to be wearing such pretty things! I want to be your daughter forever!"

I pirouetted in front of the three sided mirror and felt the satiny undergarments sliding over my nylon encased legs. This was better than anything I had ever imagined.

"You look just like an angel! Your aunt was right that you would make a perfect pixie! With the right hair style, and makeup, you'll be the prettiest pixie in the show! Let me look at you." 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 the steps of a typical female model.

"Do I really look good?" I wanted to hear how pretty I was over and over again.

"I knew you'd be the right size honey. The costume fits perfectly. Just think, you will be wearing this costume for dress rehearsal on Wednesday and Thursday, and for performances on Friday night, Saturday Afternoon, and evening, and Sunday Afternoon. Aren't you a lucky duck!"

I stood mesmerized as I stared at my feminine form in the full length mirror. Here I was, dressed like a pixie, in a costume that I would have to wear for six whole performances. My wearing a dress again convinced me that I didn't want to be a boy anymore, and I was glad that I would be spending a lot of time over the next week with Mrs. Morgan. Suddenly, I felt her hand pulling down my back zipper.

"I know you don't want to take off your pretty costume, but we have to get you dressed and make it to the theater for rehearsal by three. Take off your things, and hang them up neatly on the hanger. Leave your dance belt on, and put on these suntan tights. I'll help you with your leotard.

Mrs. Morgan was right. My costume was so pretty that I didn't want to take it off, but not wanting to be late, I carefully removed the dress, petticoat, overpanties and tights, and hung them on the special hanger. Mrs. Morgan had bought me dance clothes just for rehearsals, so I shimmied into the suntan tights, and picked up the black, lycra leotard. Mrs. Morgan showed me how to roll up the top, step into the panty, and pull the stretchy material over my hips, and then over my shoulders.

"Here. Put these on." She handed me my navy blue stirrup pants, and my matching flats. I pulled on the clingy pants over my tights and looped the stirrup under my foot.

"Let me brush your hair, and we'll be ready to go." She motioned me over to her dressing table. She brushed and teased my hair to add fullness to the androgenous style my hair had grown into, and added the usual blush, powder and lip gloss to my face. In the mirror, I looked more like a young teenaged girl than the teenaged boy that I started out as. A couple of sprays of hair spray, and she pronounced me ready for class.

"I don't know about this. Why can't I just wear my pants and blouse? I really look like a boy dressed in girl's clothes. Everyone is going to make fun of me." I really had major concerns about being seen wearing a leotard by the other girls in the production. I knew that teenaged girls in the 8th grade still considered boys to be yucky, and might take offense at my obvious intrusion into their domain.

"Nonsense. You are just fitting in by dressing like the other members of the troupe. You know, just like at Dr. Nelson's office. There is a class dress code of solid color leotards and suntan 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 at the theater. Just do what Mrs. Cataldo says."

She got up off the bed, and grabbed my purse that was hanging from the doorknob.

"Here. Take your purse, and let's get going."

We locked up the house, and climbed into the car. Looking through my purse, I discovered that she had added tissues, lip gloss, a spare panty liner, and breath mints. I took out a breath mint, and being careful not to smudge my lip gloss, popped it into my mouth.

CHAPTER 8 - REHEARSAL WITH THE GIRLS

All kinds of thoughts ran through my head on the drive over to Carlisle Academy. "What if the girls think I'm weird? What if I can't play the part? What if someone makes fun of my tights and leotard?" I had no explanation for being in an all-girl's play or even wearing girls clothes for that matter. Maybe I could blame it on my aunt, and elicit some sympathy for my plight. No solutions came to mind as we pulled into the Carlisle Academy campus, and parked next to the theater.

"Posture dear" Mrs. Morgan reminded as we entered the building. "Head up, chin tucked, and hands by your side." I felt like a girl, walking with my chest and wrists out, and this only added to the feminine aura that I saw fifteen minutes before in the mirror.

We walked down the corridor in the front of the building and entered a small office with Mrs. Cataldo's name on the door. A woman, who I guessed was the theater teacher, motioned us to sit down as she finished up her conversation on the telephone. I perused the walls, and noted the many pictures of girls in various dance costumes. Some wore plain leotards with see-through skirts. Others wore ornately decorated leotards with sequins and lace trim. I started to see if I could find pictures of boy dancers, but didn't get a chance to look, as Mrs. Cataldo abruptly finished her phone call.

"This must be Chrissy." Mrs. Cataldo beamed as she looked me over from head to toe.

Mrs. Morgan responded. "Chrissy, this is Mrs. Cataldo." Turning to the teacher, she added "Chrissy is so excited about being a pixie in the play. We tried on the costume this morning and Chrissy didn't want to take it off. He really looks adorable."

I was blushing like crazy, and knew that the makeup job only made the situation more noticeable.

"Well it's great to have him in the show." She turned her attention to my appearance again. "I am happy to see that you are observing our class dress code. I'm sure you'll be accepted as one of the girls in no time."

I liked the whole idea of being a girl, but having never done it in so public a fashion, I was quite nervous and embarrassed, 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 get started shall we?" She ushered us out of the office, locking the door 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 see that there were about sixty girls, ranging in age from about ten to their upper teens. Some had the bodies of pre-pubescent teenagers, while others were already developing into attractive young ladies. It was easy to guess ages, since the leotards left little to the imagination. Most complied with the dress code, but a few were wearing leotards with bright designs on them, or shorts 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, and crossed 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 to quiet the group. Most eyes were still glancing my way, but now many of the girls were giggling at the same time. I wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Attention please girls. Quiet down please. I want to introduce you to a new member of our troupe, Chrissy Parsomes. Chrissy will be taking Melinda's place as one of the pixies in the show. I hope you will make her, I mean him feel welcome."

The whole room burst out into laughter at her use of pronouns.

"Let's try the dance routine in act three, scene two. Take your places everyone.

Turning in my direction, she continued to address the cast members. "Chrissy, you can take off your jeans, and have a seat on the side to get a feel as to what is going on. Tomorrow, I want you to try some of the dance steps to get a feel for the production."

Still blushing like crazy, I walked over to the side and began removing my jeans. That's when the comments started.

"I guess Mrs. Cataldo is right. I can't tell if he is a boy or a girl." One of the fourteen year olds stared while I took off my blouse.

Her friend responded "I think he's a girl. He is wearing makeup. 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 ignored the comments, and concentrated on folding up my jeans, and pulling down my leotard to cover my bottom.

"Look. He doesn't even have a weener. Maybe he had the operation." I glanced over where the comment came from. This group of girls all looked around sixteen years old, and all of them wore bras over well developed figures. Ignoring my glare, they continued to giggle amongst themselves. I took the nearest chair, and concentrated on the dance group lining up on stage. I hoped that Mrs. Cataldo would shield me from any sort of embarrassing situations, but so far, she had totally ignored my humiliation.

As the rehearsal progressed, the comments continued, making fun of my undeveloped figure, my pink nail polish, my girlish haircut, and shimmery tights. One girl seemed to take exceptional delight at making fun of me in front of her group.

Sandy looked to be the oldest member of the group. She held the lead in the play, and had obviously been dancing for many years. She had a fantastic figure, and sported a feminine hairstyle and makeup job. She looked just like a model. For some reason, she seemed to take an instant dislike to me. Every time she passed my chair, which was often, she let loose with a nasty comment. She seemed to relish in my humiliation.

"My such a sweet little girl.....What's your name little girl.....What a pretty leotard Chrissy. Did you pick it out yourself.....I bet your wearing pretty pink panties under your tights. Maybe you'll show them to us in the dressing room after rehearsal." Every comment seemed to be worse than the prior one.

Finally, rehearsal ended, and the girls pranced off the stage to mop their brows with towels after the strenuous workout, Sandy decided to get in what I thought was her last jab before everyone 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 had gathered around to witness her attack on the new little femme in the class.

I had already figured out that hiding didn't keep them from making fun of me, so I decided to stick up for myself. I lifted my chin, and summoned up the courage to respond.

"Of course. What do you think I am, stupid? What do you think these are?" I pointed to my tights.

The group laughed. My new found courage didn't seem to be working. Sandy ignored my response and continued.

"It says on the sign up sheet that all girls who are developing a figure, are required to wear bras. Where's your bra sissypants?"

I couldn't believe my ears, as the group burst into loud laughter. 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 with small boobies like you."

I felt like I was at a comedy routine. The group loved the show that Sandy was putting on for them. Lost for any reply to their comments, I was relieved to hear Mrs. Cataldo call for the group's attention.

"OK girls. Remember, rehearsal starts at 9:00 AM sharp tomorrow. Make sure your here ready to go. Let's see." She looked down at a list attached to her clipboard.

"Those of you who haven't paid your costume fees yet, get them in tomorrow. I have to pay the order bill by Friday. Stop being cheapskates and cough up." Laughs scattered around the room.

"One more thing. I shouldn't have to remind you about this, but we do have a dress code here. Shorts, t-shirts and patterned leotards are not acceptable. I want to see everyone in solid leotard, and suntan tights girls."

A voice came out of the crowd that sent a shiver up my spine.

"What about bras Mrs. Cataldo?" I looked across the stage. There stood Sandy, looking in my direction, with a sick smile on her face.

"Of course Sandy. Thanks for reminding me. Anyone with a figure should be wearing a bra under their leotard. Since everyone here is aged ten and over, you all have figures, and should all be wearing bras. All good dancers want to look their best on stage, and you can't look your best if you're jiggling all over the place. I'll be checking tomorrow, so I want to see bra straps over everyone's shoulders." A groan sent off across the stage from the feminists in the group.

"Here it comes I thought" as Sandy inched forward towards Mrs. Cataldo.

"Well, Chrissy told me that she...I mean he was eleven, and I think he is pretty developed if you ask me. Why doesn't he have to wear a bra?"

I'm sure everyone noticed that I immediately covered my chest with my arms, because everyone, including Mrs. Cataldo was staring in my direction.

Other girls began to pipe up their support. "Yeah. How come we have to and he doesn't."

One girl pushed her way forward. "He wanted to join an all-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 finger into my chest and drove the final nail into my coffin.

"If you want to be a girl so much that you asked for the most feminine part in our show, then you have to wear a bra!" She turned and walked back toward Mrs. Cataldo.

Obviously, I was beet-faced, having been totally embarrassed in front of sixty girls. Even so, I figured that the joke had run its course. Mrs. Cataldo would laugh, smile, and end the whole affair by exempting me from that part of the dress code. After all, I was a guy, and had complied with the leotard, tights and ballet slippers part. What did I have to put into a bra? I smiled in her direction.

Mrs. Cataldo laughed, smiled and then dropped the bomb. "Of course Sandy. You're absolutely right. Chrissy dear, I want to see you wearing a bra tomorrow." The whole group erupted into applause. It's almost as if everyone wanted to feminize me.

Despite being scared to death over the impending developments, I found the necessary voice to respond to the ridiculous 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!" The laughter was impossible to ignore and I was mortified. It's almost as if Sandy had been talking to Mrs. Cataldo about me.

She stepped down off the chair thus signalling the end of rehearsal. 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 get you properly fitted. OK?" She picked up her tote bag sitting beside me and headed out for her office. "I'd suggest choosing something made of nylon with lace trim to help you feel like a true 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 with the script for the play. I had three hours before lights out to get familiar with my part before tomorrow's rehearsal. I had often dreamed about getting fitted for my first brassiere, but now that the event threatened to become a reality, I was too embarrassed to go through with it. As a result, I didn't tell Mrs. Morgan about my need for a bra, and luckily, she didn't find out about Mrs. Cataldo's order. I figured that no one would expect me to go through with what had to be a joke, and that after a few rehearsals, everyone would forget about the whole incident.

Even so, despite my keeping "the bra thing" a secret from Mrs. Morgan, I couldn't stop thinking about going to get fitted for a bra.

Most of the sex ed books that I read in school suggested that a girl's first bra marked the beginning of her journey from childhood to adult womanhood. A bra was the one garment that shouted "Young woman" for the whole world to see. I remembered spending hours following the outline of the bras worn by the girls in my class. While the white regulation blouses were pretty opaque in the front, the sheer backs allowed me a perfect view of the satiny straps and back hooks. Many a day, I daydreamed about what it would be like to have my mother take me shopping for my first bra, and having to hook one on every morning before travelling off to school. Now the opportunity lay open for it to happen for real, and I was too scared to follow through! I tried to concentrate on the script that lay in the lap of my baby doll nighty, but the wetness showing through the panties kept bringing me back to my old fantasies. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I put the script on the night table, and headed downstairs to grab the mail order Catalog. After my aunt had retired for the night, I sneaked the catalog from under my bed and turned to the index.

"Let's see.....Bras.....Here it is.....growing girls, page 237.....Juniors, page 239-240.....teens, page 237-238."

I quietly turned to page 237, and consulting the header at the top of the page.

"Junior Bras and Foundation Garments." The text continued.

"Be sure to measure sizes carefully, as developing figures change rapidly. To determine size, measure girl in normal underwear. Place measuring tape under developing bust. This is the bra size. Round up to nearest even number.

To determine cup size, place tape over fullest part of the bust. If the measurement is the same or less than the bra measurement, she takes a AAA cup. 1/2 to 1 inch larger takes a AA cup. 1 inch or larger takes an A cup. 2 inches larger takes a B cup. For proper sizing information, bring your daughter into the Junior Department for an expert fitting."

I continued down the page to the section marked Pre-teen / Growing Girl Bras.

"Designed for the just developing pre-teen whose figure is rapidly changing. Nylon spandex cups adjust to the growing bust line. Adjustable stretch straps and three hook back closure allow for perfect fit. Feminine design makes every young girl feel more grown up!" I looked down at the pictures. The first looked like one of my satin vests that had been cut off below the bust. The caption read

"Bra Look Vest. Soft nylon/cotton blend provides modest protection and support. Lace edging with satin bow trim. Back hook closure. Made in Costa Rica. Available in white, pink, and beige, sizes S M L. #PTBLV. Package of two, $3.95 I continued down the page.

"Nylon Stretch beginner bra. Ideal starter bra for girls just starting to show. Nylon spandex cups stretch to fit cup sizes from AAA to A. Lace knit cups, and floral trim let everyone know that your little girl is growing up! Only available in white, sizes 28 - 36 AAA - A cup. #PTNSB. Package of 2, $4.95

The next one looked similar to the beginner bra, but had more material. The caption read

"Support Beginner bra. Perfect for size up girls. Wider shoulder straps and bottom bands help keep bra in place over chubby figures. Shirring and cross your heart styling between cups 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, but wants to graduate to grown up styling. Feminine features make her look just like a modern co-ed!"

These bras looked a lot more like what the girl's in my grade were wearing. One was a very light weight bra with a single 1/2 inch strap around the back. The bra had natural cups which I discovered were made of a single thickness of nylon instead of being padded with fiberfill. It had an inch of floral lace and the usual bow between the cups. The lace was there to make the bra fit figure sizes ranging from AA to B. A lot of the liberated girls at school wore this kind of bra, because it didn't show much under their clothes. Thus they could meet the dress code requirement of wearing a bra, while minimizing their acceptance of this regulation.

The next one was slightly more substantial. It had a wider band around the bottom that decreased in width from two inches near the cups to 1/2 an inch near the back hooks. The catalog called this one a contour cup since it had a layer of fiberfill lining the cups. The front was cut pretty low, so the bra wouldn't show under a blouse with an open button, and a small white lace flower decorated the front. The shoulder straps adjusted in the back. I guessed that girls would have to have the sales lady adjust it for them since the ring and slide was out of reach. It came in sizes from 32 to 36, AA to B.

The third bra seemed to be made for chubby girls. It looked a lot like my mother's utilitarian underwear, with plain white nylon contour cups, wide stretch straps that adjusted in front, and a wide stretchy bottom band that was two inches thick in the back. I didn't like this one, since it reminded me of crabby Linda Crawford, the noisiest and biggest breasted girl in my school. Sure enough, this bra came in sizes from 32 to 42, AA - C cups.

The last two teen bras that I saw were the prettiest. The first one looked a lot like the bra mentioned before, except that it had a normal tapering back to it. It looked like it was made of a satiny nylon, and was available in very pretty colors; pink, beige, powder blue, champagne and white. It seemed to be the kind of bra that an older teenager would wear, right before she graduated to full sized women's bras. It even had matching panties 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. The back band had a normal taper to it, but started off at an inch at the cup, slimming down to less than a half an inch at the hooks. The cups were very shiny, and were trimmed with narrow scalloping lace. The styling was very grown up, but the cut was suited to a young teenager. Suddenly, I wanted to tell Mrs. Morgan about my needing a bra. I wanted to wear one like all the other girls in the group. I began to love the idea of developing a bust, and hoped that someday, Aunty would have me fitted for that very style. 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 PUNISHMENT

The next morning, I woke up at my usual time, and after my usual bath, dressed quickly in my panties, tights and leotard. Looking at myself in the mirror, I figured that I might be able to 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 I put on over my leotard. Luckily it matched with the stirrup pants, and did a pretty good job of hiding my chest. Since I wanted to minimize the possibility for hassle at class, I succeeded in killing time around Mrs. Morgan's house, so that we arrived 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 served as her speaking platform. I put down my hobo bag, and sat down to put on my ballet slippers. I removed the stirrup pants, but left on the blouse, which I knotted at the waist like I had seen girls in school do.

No sooner had I finished knotting the blouse, when Mrs. Cataldo caught sight of my illegal attire.

"Now Chrissy. You know better than that. We don't allow blouses. Take it off, and come show us your new bra!"

I slowly unbuttoned the blouse and tried to figure out a way to 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 in the blanks for me.

"What's that Chrissy? We can't hear you!" The class crowded around me as I finished unbuttoning the blouse.

"My mother didn't have time to take me shopping yesterday" I blurted out while carefully examining my pink ballet slippers to avoid looking anyone in the eye. "I don't have a bra yet"

'Well Chrissy, we don't really want to hear any excuses. You can't be in rehearsal without a proper bra. I guess you'll have to sit out rehearsal. How do you think your going to learn your part for the play if you can't practice!" She shook her head with disgust.

I felt like a six year old child being chewed out by his first 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 rehearsal without such an obviously feminine undergarment.

Suddenly, a girl in a green leotard, with a pre-teen figure and 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. "How thoughtful of you Sharon. I'm sure Chrissy would love to borrow it! 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 had extra bras that would probably fit me. Mrs. Cataldo sent them scurrying off to their hobo bags, and each one returned with a wispy, nylon undergarment.

Mrs. Cataldo took each of the five bras, and approached my quivering body.

"Well Chrissy, which one do you like best." I didn't respond. I was paralyzed.

"I think this one should fit perfectly. Let's go try it on OK?" She held out one of the growing girl's stretch bras that I recognized 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 Chrissy here. We'll be right back."

With that, she grabbed me by the hand, ushered me off stage and 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." She pushed me down onto the stool next to her desk, and shook out the bra which had been neatly folded into a ball.

The time had come to make a choice. I had been dreaming of my first bra ever since I first dressed as a girl, and here was the perfect opportunity to start wearing one. Granted, it was going to be darn embarrassing to be seen by sixty odd girls wearing a training bra, but as I gazed at the feminine garment that dangled in front of my eyes, I began to get more excited about the idea.

I could say that Mrs. Cataldo forced me into it. It wasn't my idea. I had to meet the dress code tied to the theater group.

Putting caution to the wind, I nodded to Mrs. Cataldo, who stepped behind me, and helped me slide my arms out of the shiny long 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 are old enough for one dear, and Mrs. Morgan did tell me how much you wanted her to take you shopping for one." Mrs. Cataldo softly massaged my shoulders. Almost as if she was teasing me, she allowed the satin bra which was hanging from her wrist, to brush across my back. Every caress sent shivers up my spine, reminding me that soon I would be wearing a training bra full time just like all the other girls my age.

I shrugged as she continued her massage. "I guess I felt really embarrassed about asking."

Mrs. Cataldo continued. "That's OK Chrissy. Most girls are embarrassed when they start developing, and have to start wearing one. Deep inside though, every girl that I know longs to go shopping with her mother for her first. I'll bet that you're excited too?"

How did she know how much I dreamed of this day? I nodded my head.

"Well I'll tell you what. You can wear this one home when Mrs. Morgan picks you up. I guarantee that she will notice your new figure, and will offer to take you shopping. How's that sound?" She leaned over and looked me in the eye.

"Great!" I said as I tried to stifle the urge to ask to look at what soon would be covering my boobies. I couldn't believe how Mrs. Cataldo seemed to be doing everything that she could to help me through this awkward time in my life.

"I help a lot of my girls pop the bra question to their mommies this way. That's why we have the dress code that we do."

She slid the bra off of her wrist and pulled out the shoulder straps to their longest length. With two fingers, she daintily held it out in front of me by the lengthened straps, and instructed me to put my arms through both loops. With a deep breath, I leaned forward and put my hands into the bra.

The feeling was incredible! The straps were made of this shiny, stretchy, satin material, and they glided over my smooth arms like an skate blade across ice. Soon, the straps were lying over my shoulders. Mrs. Cataldo reached in front of me, pulled the cups down over my breasts, and slid her hands along the bottom band to the back set of hooks. As she pulled the back together, I could see and feel the stretch satin cups, edged with lace, lift and surround my small sized breasts causing them to actually get bigger. I couldn't believe it. I actually had a figure like the other 11 year old girls in the class. It was the neatest thing, and the feeling was better than anything in the world. I swore to myself that I would wear a bra every day from now on.

"A perfect fit Mrs. Cataldo gushed. "Of course these stretch types do fit young girls with a variety of figures. A lot different than when I was a young girl." She began adjusting the shoulder straps' ring and slide.

I looked down at my new figure that was perfectly encased in nylon, and noticed that it looked just like the chests of the girl's in the Sears Catalogs. I especially liked the pretty bow that was sewed on between the cups.

"Do you remember when you got your first bra Mrs. Cataldo" I asked as I stared at my likeness in the mirror?

She continued to adjust the straps. "Every girl remembers getting her first bra. Of course I didn't have a fairy god mother to 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 irritating my nipples, and asking her what to do about it. She told me that I was turning into a young woman, and that I should start training my figure. She took me down to the girl's department at one of the women's shops downtown, and had me fitted for my first bra. Back in those days, young women were expected to wear girdles, garter belts and stockings, so mom bought me everything that she thought an all-American girl should wear. The sales lady was so embarrassing, telling me that she was going to make me so pretty. After picking out an appropriately feminine bra, girdle and garter belt, she showed me how to put everything on, and how to attach my new nylons to the belt. To make a long story short Chrissy, I also ended up getting my first permanent, my first makeup kit and first sanitary napkin belt all in the same day. I was so proud when we arrived home that I modelled my new things for everyone. Mom and I spent all evening trying on my new things, and playing with my makeup kit. That's how I learned how much boys wanted bras too!"

"What do you mean" I asked as I looked at her with a quizzical 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 interested in my new things. He kept asking us lots of questions about why girls needed bras and girdles, what it felt like to wear stockings, and if he could have curly hair like mine. My dad was away on business for the week, so my mom suggested that my brother let us dress him up to show him what it was like. Mom called Aunt Jane who lived across town, and they both helped us into the new bras, girdles, garter belts, stockings and slips that mom and I had purchased. Aunt Jane did my brother's hair and taught us both how to put on makeup. After the makeup, my brother and I looked like two twins. It was a really great weekend. It did take a couple of weeks to learn how to hook the bra and garters though. I kept having to ask my mom to hook me up in the morning. She was as excited as I was about helping her daughter to become a young woman. All mothers live for that stuff." She finished with the shoulder straps, gave a quick look-see, and pronounced me finished.

"How does it feel?" she asked as she helped me back into my leotard.

"Wow!" I exclaimed as I looked at the new curves that peaked out under the clingy leotard. The outline of my new bra was very obvious under the black, lycra fabric, and I felt very grown up as I traced the straps over the shoulders to the top of the cups.

"Did your brother ever play dress up again?" I asked as she made sure that my bra straps were hidden under the leotard.

"When mom found out how much Bryan liked dressing up, she encouraged me to lend him the clothes that I grew out of. Of course he had to wait a year to wear a bra, but when he turned thirteen, mom and I took him shopping for his very own bra, girdle, garter belt, and stockings. After that, we became just like sisters. We'd come home from school for the weekend, and after dressing in our bras and girdles, we'd do each other's hair and makeup. One summer vacation, mom and I even took him down for a permanent."

"Did he like that?" I asked as we rose for the door.

"I'll say!" Mrs. Cataldo responded as he opened her office door, and turned out the lights. "Probably as much as you would!"

To top off a fantastic day, rehearsal went better than it ever had before. After checking to make sure that I was indeed wearing the bra, all the girls seemed to be satisfied that I had passed their initiation for joining the group. As a result, the harassment ceased, and I concentrated on learning my part for the play.

CHAPTER 10 - BUYING MY FIRST BRA

When rehearsal ended, I put on my pants, and following Mrs. Cataldo's advice, left off the blouse that I wore that morning. I packed up my hobo bag, and walked out to the parking lot with the other girls. Mrs. Morgan was waiting in her car, and when I got into the car, she immediately noticed that something was different 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 different since I wasn't a little girl any more.

"No, it's something else. You look.....older. More mature. I can't quite figure it out."

I looked at her with a stumped expression. How could she miss the outline? Maybe I was going to have to ask her to take me shopping anyway. I pulled back my shoulders to make the bra stand out, but she failed to see any change in my physical characteristics.

Arriving home, I entered the house before her, and she finally 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. She laid down her bag and brushed her hand down my back. A broad smile ran across her face, and she reached out and touched my breasts with her finger. A very pleasurable sensation ran down my spine.

"Your wearing a bra!" she exclaimed, as I smiled in response to her complement.

"Uh huh" I smiled. "Mrs. Cataldo told me that it was part of the dress code. I was suppose to tell you yesterday, but I forgot. This morning, Mrs. Cataldo insisted on me being properly dressed, so she borrowed one from this girl in my class. How do I look?"

I tried to turn to show her my new figure from all angles.

Mrs. Morgan stepped back and surveyed my new self. "You look marvelous! You really have developed into a young lady. You actually have a bust! Come here and look in the mirror."

She pulled me in front of the mirror that hung behind the hall closet door and pulled down the top of my leotard.

I couldn't believe it. She was right. Originally, I thought that my figure came from the bra that I was wearing. Looking now, I could see that I had begun to develop curves like a teenaged girl. Small, yet distinctive nipples could be seen through the clingy 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 they reach puberty, these boys begin to look, act and feel like girls. The doctor at your new school told your step mother that you were one of these kind of boys, and that she should have you spend the summer with your aunt to see how things work out."

She traced the strap with her finger from the top of the cup over 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, so obviously you can't go running around like a boy. People will talk. So, your aunt and I are going to help you learn to be a girl until you decide if you want to get medical help to try to become a boy again. We felt that this would be the easiest way for you. Don't you agree?"

I was so excited that I hugged Mrs. Morgan as hard as I could.

Mrs. Morgan seemed to share my enthusiasm. "First things first. This bra is a bit small for your figure. You really have to be properly fitted. Otherwise, your bra will be uncomfortable, and you won't wear it. You obviously need a bra dear. You can't go walking around sticking out like you were this 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. Morgan dialed my aunt's number.

"Hello Clara. This is Jane calling. Yes the costume fits perfectly. She looks like an absolute angel. Blue is most certainly her color."

I loved the way my new mother was calling me by a feminine pronoun.

"No, no alterations will be needed. One thing though, have you noticed that your niece is quite developed?"

I couldn't make out my aunt's responses, so I just listened with my hands folded in my lap.

She continued. "Uhhuh.....Yes, quite a lot for her age. I would say a double A......Oh yes.....The clingy fabric does emphasize her bust. You can really see her nipples.....Of course. I agree.....I'll take her down to get fitted this afternoon before we go to Monica's.....Where?.....Well, I haven't shopped for training bras since I was twelve.....Mmhmm. I'll call Alison Schmidtt's mother. Yes, she works in the clothing business ....Alison.....One of the other pixies in the show.....Ok I'm sure we'll manage.....Bye bye."

Mrs. Morgan hung up the phone, and immediately dialed another call. I didn't pay any attention to the number, since I was too busy trying to think what kind of bra Mrs. Morgan would buy 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 encased thighs with her hands.

"Nancy. Hi. This is Jane Morgan. How are things? .....Great.....Oh really? That's very special.....Yes Alison is doing a perfect job in the play. We're very happy with her performance."

"Nancy, the reason I'm calling is that my niece Christine is visiting from New York, and has decided to join our production. Well we just tried on her pixie costume, and it's obvious that this girl needs a bra.....Yes, quite developed for an eleven year old.....Anyway, I figured that you might know where we can get her properly fitted.....Umhmm.....Sears and Penneys?.....What about a lingerie shop?.....Too small?..... Hmm.....Really?.....I would have sworn the girl's shop in the strip mall would have a great selection.....No dice hmm?.....Well fine.....What's that?..... That would be wonderful!.....Great. we'll see you in about fifteen minutes....Yes, she certainly is very excited.....What? Who should I call?.....OK.....No problem." My aunt blew a kiss in my direction.

"Great. Thanks again for your help. Bye bye." She hung up the phone, and turning towards me, she pulled down the shoulders of 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 a bra too this afternoon, and she offered to take us along. Isn't that great"

"Wow" I thought to myself. "I'll be able to see what's going to happen to me before it happens." Besides, I thought Alison was one of the cuter members of the theater troupe, and the opportunity to see her in a bra, overcame any embarrassment about being seen in one myself."

She continued. "The only thing to do is to get dressed, and Why don't you go upstairs and take off your dance clothes. Put on your panties and white stockings, and I'll be up to help you get dressed. I have to call the store." She winked in my direction. "Call me when you are ready." She handed me my vest, my pair of white knee highs, and a pair of girl's flats and I headed into her bedroom.

I carefully removed my leotard, bra and tights, and put on my vest and kneehighs. My feet fit perfectly into the blue leather shoes. They felt weird, almost like I was wearing sandals. I grabbed her bathrobe from behind the door, and headed back 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 was saying.

"Sandy, this is Jane Morgan calling. I'm a friend of Nancy Schmidtts, and I hope you can help me....I have a special little miss named Chrissy staying with me for the weekend. Chrissy is my best friend's son. My friend caught him dressing up in his sister's clothes, and she decided to have him dress as a girl as punishment. You know, pinafore punishment? Anyway, my sister asked me to really reinforce the experience, and what better way than to have him fitted for a bra. Nancy said that you would be fitting Alison this afternoon and might able to accommodate our little priss at the same time."

I noticed that Mrs. Morgan was smiling something fierce.

"Great.....Yes.....Yes that would be perfect. Just make sure that 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 headed back upstairs.

Without a sound, I tip-toed back into the bedroom, and put my dance stuff away in my bureau. Although I was excited about my first bra fitting, turning into a girl, and seeing Alison in a bra and slip, I knew that I wasn't being punished for dressing up in girl's clothes. This whole thing wasn't my fault, right? I should probably speak up, and question her grasp of the facts.

Thinking better of this route, I decided to make believe that I didn't overhear the conversation, and play along with the routine.

"All right now. We have to get you dressed." Aunty entered the room and walked over to the bed.

"Take off my robe, and put this on." She handed me a girl's full slip.

"Yes mom." I could tell it was a girl's slip because it didn't have much room for a bra in the top. Although I had never worn a full slip before, I figured it was just like putting on my nightgown. I put my arms through the satin ribbon straps, and lowered it over my body. My aunt adjusted the shoulder straps so that the slip hung evenly just above my knees.

"Now you have to get your hair trimmed in a style appropriate for a pixie. You and Alison both have an appointment to get your hair done at 4:00. First though, we have to get you fitted for your bra. Now I can't bring a boy into the girl's fitting room, so you'll have to dress as a girl for the afternoon. You're going to have to make the change soon, so you might as well start today. You shouldn't have any trouble."

She picked up a pink girl's polyester blouse and after pulling my arms through the sleeves, began buttoning up the front.

"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." My aunt finished buttoning the blouse, and lowered a blue, pleated jumper over my head.

"Don't worry your silly little head. You make a perfect girl, if you only do what I tell you. No one will know the difference." She zipped and buttoned the back of the jumper, and secured the shoulder sashes to the buttons on the front of the skirt. She sat me down at her dressing table, dabbed my cheeks with a bit of blush and powder, and applied a coating of lip gloss to my lips "to make them wet and kissable" like all the other girls my age. A few pumps of hair spray, and a bit of teasing, turned my femme boy face into the perfect depiction of a pre-teen girl.

"So far, how does it feel to be starting on the journey to becoming a young lady?"

"Great!" I beamed. With that, she handed me a purse, and we headed into town.

CHAPTER 11 - CHRISSY GETS A BUST

As the car hurdled down the highway, a zillion things were going through my mind. First off, I hadn't worn a skirt since the Halloween party at my grandmother's house, and the feeling of wearing this short jumper was very different from the girl's slacks that I was use to. The blouse, slip and panties were shiny and very slippery, so every movement caused the clothes to tickle my skin. In addition, girl's blouses were kind of thin, so the top of my slip showed through the fabric. Looking in the mirror, I looked like a little girl, but after my trip to the beauty salon, and a new bra, I hoped that I would look like any other teenager.

Second, I had no idea what to expect at the hairdresser. Back when I was five, I had asked my grandmother about her weekly trip to Melissa's Beauty Salon. I had already had my hair cut at a men's barbershop, and knew that her hair looked a lot different than mine. Hers smelled like perfume, had lots of curls, and stayed in place no matter what she did. Mine was straight, got all mussed up in the wind, and smelled like my dad's aftershave. She told me that Melissa's salon made people pretty, and did special things to girls my age who wanted to be pretty. I told her that I wanted to be pretty just like at Halloween, and asked her if I could have my hair done like hers. She and my mother both laughed, and told me if I was good, that someday they might make an appointment for me.

Alas, my grandmother died soon after, and my mother was never 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 that mother would never take me to such a place. Now here I was, sitting in a car, and all my wishes were coming true.

TO BE CONTINUED: