"Tomorrow morning, we board the Greyhound for upstate New York. It should take a couple of hours. Rather than stop in a town, we shall have the driver set us off at a spot I know of near a woods. That will mark the start of our trip. We shall then take to the woods over ground I have covered before. Our first night out, we camp by a creek, but the second night we shall spend in a disused house that I know of along our route. Then, on the morning of the third day, we simply walk a mile or so from the house to a nearby State Route, arriving in time to flag down the southbound bus to take us back to the city. As I say, I know the area quite well, and the stream we shall camp by the first night has some wonderful spots for bathing and-hold still! What on Earth made you start so violently? You almost caused me to spill the nail polish."

"Sorry," I apologized, trying to cover the arousal that her remark about Bathing had caused, "I guess I got stiff from holding still so long while you paint my toenails. Are you done yet?"

"Not even half," She muttered, cleaning spots of polish from my feet, "And I can't have you squirming about while I do this." "Are you sure it's necessary?"

"Quite sure," She replied, "Your body is very feminine-looking now, but your face has just a touch of masculinity left. Therefore, since we shall all be in close proximity, I thought it best to add some little feminine touches, such as makeup, hair-styling, and... some other things, to make you more convincingly female. After all, there will be times when we may be out there practically nude, so-there you go again! I guess I shall have to find a way to make you be still."

So saying, she leaned over, took the belt from my robe, and used it to tie my ankles to a leg of the piano!

"There," She said, knotting the silken sash firmly. She looked me up and down, my earring tied to an arm of the couch, my wrists cuffed behind me, and now my feet anchored to the nearby piano, and she nodded with satisfaction. "That should keep you from stirring about until I finish. Now where was I?" She picked up the nail polish and set to work again. "Oh yes; the gear we shall be carrying: Ultra-light interlocking sleeping bags, but no change of clothing except possibly some underwear. It would be entirely too cumbersome. We'll have food and cooking utensils, of course, and-What did you say, Dear?"

"I just wanted to make sure I understood you,' "I cleared my throat with difficulty, "You mean that if one of us should -ahtear her shirt or something...?"

"Then she'll just have to get about with a torn shirt. So be careful of your clothing, Love. I shall give it to you--" Suddenly the doorbell rang.

I must have gone quickly pale, although I don't think I moved a muscle. Someone was at the door! And here I was... I squirmed, aware for the first time of how tightly my ankles were bound to the piano, how securely my wrists were pinioned behind me, forcing

my breasts to thrust out against the skimpy robe. As I moved, I felt the insistent tug of the earring clamped firmly into my ear lobe, and a chill of panic swept through me: Someone might see me -like this in my undies! Or rather, in Mavis' undies! Mavis read my thoughts in an instant, even as she rose to her feet.

"Don't worry," She reassured me, "I'm expecting it. Everything's all right."

And she walked calmly across the living room and opened the front door!

"Come right in, Evelyn," She said to the person in the hallway, "I've been expecting you, although I'm afraid I forgot to tell Pat here about our plans."

She calmly directed the visitor to where I was lying bound on the floor, cringing with embarassment!

But to my amazement, this Evelyn showed not the slightest trace of surprise. The barrage of ridicule I had been expecting never came. Instead, she merely walked over to me and said calmly, "Yes. You were wise to call me. She needs just the teeniest bit of help with this masquerade, but I think it'll make a world of difference."

As she knelt beside me, studying my face with detatched profes-. sionalism, I had a chance to take a calmer look at her. She was a handsome woman, in her late thirties, perhaps, with carefullyset blonde hair, subtle makeup, and a little jewelry, perfectly coordinated with her pink-and-blue pantsuit.

"My name's Evelyn Traynor, Dear," She smiled a friendly smile, without the least trace of condescension. It was reassuring. "And I'm sort of a Beauty Consultant. You see, I specialize in helping men who want to look like women. Your friend Mavis asked me to have a look at you and see if I could make any improvements, and I think you'll be glad she did. Now let's get started!"

Two hours later, she was gone, and Mavis was untying my ankles. "Really," She said, "It was quite the simplest way, and perhaps the only way as well. In spite of all your work and those magnificent breasts you're sporting, there was just something indefinably male about you. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I do believe Evelyn's handled it very nicely," She helped me to my feet, "Yes, very nicely indeed. Come look!"

Awkwardly, legs stiff, breasts jiggling, I sashayed over to the mirror with Mavis.

And I had to admit she was right!

It was no longer Me who looked back from the mirror. It was a girl!

Evelyn had styled my hair skillfully, curling its medium length into very stylish ringlets. She had arched my eyebrows, coloring