A few days later, talking with another of my alteration ladies, she told me to go and talk to a bridal shop as they would be much more likely to know what materials caused the best frou-frou. She giggled, which seemed unusual in a lady of nearly 60, and said she’d be really interested in how they dealt with my request. I was stunned, and could say nothing. I became aware of Lucy stood in the doorway, and tried to cover myself up. I was wondering what she was getting at, but I soon found out. “And as your leotard will go over your tights, you won’t be able to, um, go to the toilet. So I've got a nappy and a pair of plastic panties for you to wear underneath. Don’t worry. No-one will be able to see it through your tights and leotard.”

After the skirt, worn with the panties and tights which were no longer new to me – my next new experience was the blouse. This felt little different, softer, more colour options, prettier buttons BUT learning how to do those inside-out buttons was so very weird.

I can see that the little dear is becoming quite overcome by his feminine surroundings, judging by that little point above the front of his panty," said Mrs Mitchell, curling her lips with ironic delight. "With Jason looking so sweet and girlish in his dress and hair ribbon, I'd love to see his little pee-pee." There was a chorus of agreement from the circle of smiling faces. Jason had to protect himself, from exposure. In my fantasy I live with my step mother and step sister. I'm 14 years old. Lucy, my step sister, is nearly ten. Sheila, my step mother, does not particularly like me. When it was just me and my Dad I could do pretty much whatever I liked. Now Dad’s gone I still want to do the same, but Sheila won’t tolerate that at all. She’s trying to instil what she refers to as ‘proper discipline’ in me. Even as a young child I never got spanked, but Sheila’s had me over her lap with my trousers and underpants down round my ankles several times already.

I looked up at her with my carefully made up eyes in the mirror, asking for explanation without a word. It was a very pleasant half-hour. Cathie helped me try on half a dozen different bras. Eventually, I/ we chose three. All were 42-C but as suggested each had an extender and to my surprise, Cathie had suggested that I buy breast-enhancers. And I did find the effect was very satisfactory. I did look up the dictionary definition – I’m that sort of person – and the first definition was “Frilly; heavily ornamental; fancy; overly elaborate, particularly as regards clothing”; the second was ‘a rustling especially of a woman's skirts’. Clearly, this was what was described in my stories. Oh Christine, you look absolutely wonderful,” exclaimed Aunt Mary, thoroughly pleased at the latest transformation. “I wish Susan could be here to see how darling you are.” After donning their wraps, the two ladies led me to the car for the drive downtown to the restaurant, while daintily dressed as a girl. Miss Presswell," piped up the 20-year-old, "Jason has tried very hard to be a good sissy boy so far. I think I can promise you that he won't try to be a normal boy again while he's working with us at Pretty Boy."

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appalling interruption at this point **** my wife read this and was very unaccepting that I was writing stories. Bad enough to want to wear skirts, panties, bras. Worse to actually buy them AND wear them. Bad worse to apparently ‘want to be a woman’ and by implication to deny her woman-ness. Worse still to expose what is in my mind and what must be my desire by writing about it. How could she be married to ‘someone who wanted to be a woman. I’m not a lesbian’ Rather a long way past ‘ooops’. Ghastly. Put him in these shoulder petticoats," she said, "and I want him in Snow-White knee-highs and crystal pumps to match this dress."