his masculine clothes when most had either worn out or, as in the case of his last pair of briefs, the laundry had starched them and when he asked them to take out the starch the shorts came back in tatters. That and been the last male item in his possession.

As he considered his plight and the inevitable arrival of Caroline, he thought aloud. "Well, Caroline is going to insist on everything being just right from the skin out, I know. And that certainly means untra-feminine with no holds barred. Well, I'll just get started with what I figure she'll pick for me."

He reached into a drawer and took out a pair of pink bikini panties and pulled them on. Then he selected a nude shade of sheer-to-waist pantihose and sat on the bed. He carefully threaded his thumbs into the thin light nylon and down the length of one leg then cautiously pulled the fabric tautly over his toes and up to his Knee, stretching and smoothing it evenly, then did the same with the other leg. Standing, he worked

the fabric up to his hips then pulled, smoothed and adjusted the legs and crotch. Next came a high-waist cincher girdle, brief style, that gave him fuller hips by adding a few inches as it pushed mass downward from his waist, plus some very subtle invisibly placed padding. The upper section rose almost to his ribs and took about three inches off his normal waistline. Unknowingly, by his selection of that particular girdle, and with his recent upper body development, Chris now had distinctively feminine proportions, 36A-28-34, which would soon become dramatically apparent to anyone who saw him that day. But he was oblivious to the feminine contours he now possessed as he grabbed a white brassiere similar to the one he had worn yesterday.. However, this model had generously

padded alon with pushups built into the smooth cups, giving him a size 'B' and shoving the fleshy mounds up and together so that he had a much more substantial bosom.

He picked out a white tricot slip and was pulling it over his head as he heard a sharp knock on the door. Just as he finished smoothing out the slip about his frame, Caroline came strolling into his bedroom (hadn't he locked the front door last night?) carrying a large cosmetic case.

"Well!" she greeted him. "I'm glad to see you taking some initiative, Chrissy. I thought I'd have to dress you from the skin out. And you did your hair! How sweet! That gives us more time to do you up properly."

She looked him over then shook her head. dear me, she exclaimed. "We will have to do something about your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair. I set it last night like I knew you would want me to."

"Oh

"No no no," she responded. "I meant the hair on your legs! And under your arms! You'll have to shave your legs and armpits if you're going to wear a dress."

"Ah, come on, Caroline! Is that really necessary?" he pleaded.

"Of course, silly. You don't want ugly hairs sticking out of your sleeves and hose, do you?" She handed him a large jar. "This is dipiliatory cream.

"Uh?"

"Hair remover, silly. Just spread it thinly where you don't want hair, wait ten minutes, and shower. Whoosh! No more hair. It's much easier than a razor and the results last a lot longer." She shooed him down the hall. "Now, go do it and I'll see you back here when you're ready. You better shave your beard real good too."

Alone in the bathroom, Chris stripped. He