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Journal

Journal

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 p*****ns 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 d**g 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 d**g 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 reinfucked 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 f******n 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 scuttered 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 p*****n /
Growing Girl Bras.
“Designed for the just developing p*****n 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 i*****l 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 p*****n 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 fucked 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 reinf***e 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
p*****n 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.


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