yelled with delight. "When you get used to wearing dresses, you'll find that they are much more comfortable. I think you'll do fine at the party."

As Chris nervously went on his deliveries that day, everyone he met commented on his excellent appearance. Gradually, Chris got used to the simple but flattering compliments and even began to enjoy the extra attention he was getting. Several women made casual but sincere remarks like "Hey, that's a nice change" or "Chrissy, you look marvelous". Even a few of the women who had pointedly ignored him until now had pleasant words for him! None were more than polite.

Except for Tracy. She visited the office before lunch and insisted that Chris model for her. Then she gushed on and on about how great he looked and how the makeup improved his facial features. She embarrassed Chris terribly with her unending and outrageous flattery, but he was also secretly delighted that he made such a favorable impression on his friends. Their acceptance of him as a person was formost in his mind.

All day, in the office, Mary quietly but firmly corrected his manners and deportment to help him 'act more ladylike'. By this time, no pockets had forced Chris to carry a purse constantly, but Mary showed him how to carry it properly over his arm or shoulder, instead of swinging in his hand or hooking it to his belt as His he was inclined to do when he wore one. biggest problem was sitting with his knees together. His worries about managing his chores in the new pumps were not unfounded, since, by the end of the day his ankles and calves were greatly relieved to be free of those heels when he got home.

Throughout the day he was constantly encouraged by Mary and the others to continue

wearing the dresses to get used to them.

It was very hard to argue with so many people that were so important to Chris and whom he wanted so much to please.

He bowed to the heavy pressure of 'the Group' and continued to wear a uniform dress everyday and, as usual, Judy provided him more outfits, including both of the other uniform dresses he had previously tried in the boutique's fitting room on that fateful afternoon. She had also given him a few white skirts which he could mix and match with the blouses he, already wore.

Caroline soon had his dressing table cluttered with a confusing wealth of cosmetics and other beauty needs while the bathroom was similarly stocked. For several days, for an hour or more after dinner each evening, Chris was subjected to a crash course in hair styling and cosmetology. His face and head was the blank slate upon which he practiced under Caroline's watchful eye until he could do it all himself. The makeup wasn't so bad, just hard to master quickly, but he groaned and complained endlessly when she informed him that his hair would have to be set every night to maintain the proper business-like impression which he must present at work each day. He swore that he'd get it cut and kink-curled to avoid the nightly torture, but, again the Group's insistence won over his faltering objections.

Chris finally decided, after several days of fruitless effort, that he would simply comply with whatever his friends asked of him. He knew that, regardless of how much they changed his external image, he was still a man! And no pantihose or

girdle or dress or even the brassiere would convince him that he was anything more than a young man disguised as a woman. He was indisputably male, although he was forced to concede that the only outward physical evidence of