60-TV FICTION CLASSICS

SANDY THOMAS ADV. runner-up. With a giddy sense of fascination he imagined attending all those functions like games and dances as one of the girls?

A cool shiver went up Sam's spine as he felt the cool, dainty nylon encircling his body. His fingers went to the delicate lace at the nightgown's bodice and found his pert little nipples erect. He was intensely conscious of the loss of his boyish virility as he pictured himself all sissified, standing in front of the student body.

The emotions were as thrilling as they were frightening. The foremost "bad part" was all those guys gawking at him just because he wore a little lipstick, a dress, high heels and did his hair in curls. That was creepy but Sam knew he'd have to get used to it. He knew what to do. Tomorrow when his skirt hiked up a little, exposing his nylon encased thighs, he would just cross his legs as femininely as he could and be proud of his femininity.

Paul also looked in the mirror and wondered at it all. Paul ran his hand through his long, thick blonde hair, feeling it luxuriously fan out over his shoulders. This was too hilarious to believe. Skinny and unpopular, the boy with few friends and fewer talents had been chosen by his peers to represent his school for the coming year. It was an honor he couldn't take lightly. He bit at his lip and examined his face in the glass.

Totally confused and bewildered, Paul removed his lavish makeup, creamed his body with moisturizers, slipped into a soft nylon babydoll nighty, and rolled his hair for the night. Tomorrow was the sponsor luncheon and he would be expected to look especially ladylike and feminine.

Confused and in total bewilderment, Paul straightened his nighty and crawled into bed with the thought, "This crazy girl stuff was supposed to be over, but it's just starting!"

With that thought running thru his head he went to lay down, but there was no way he could sleep. If he was going to be queen for a year, he would need a dresses, he would need lingerie, and shoes, and several purses. He would need lots and lots of girl's things.

"My oh my," the boy thought as he wrapped his smooth legs around one of his big fluffy pillows, snuggling himself

BLONDE & BLONDER -61 more comfortably into bed. As his beautiful silky nylon nightgown caressed his body, he couldn't help but admit to the excitement he felt as he walked down the runway in his high heels and hearing people comment on how feminine he looked.

He admitted that getting dolled up for school was kind of fun.

Evan came home much later. Andrea had taken him out to celebrate in spite of his disappointment in fifth place. Andrea said, "It's all politics and who you know. I voted for you but some thought Paul was 'sweeter' and some voted for Sam because of his mother's militant feminism. The main thing is that you placed and are on the Queen's Court." "What's that mean?"

"You will have to be at all the school's functions and games with the Queen...at least once a week, you'll be in skirts and who knows, maybe we can make it even more?"

All three boys went to sleep thinking about their new identities.

"I would like to propose a toast to the most successful and profitable contest we've even had and to the man who concocted the diabolical plan to save our Freshie Queen tradition, our own principal, Bob Carlson!" Dominique Laurent proclaimed to the celebrating crowd.

When everyone had toasted and added a few of their own, she asked, "How did you go about selecting the winner and first runner-up?"

"It was easy! I saw that Andrea liked Evan better the more feminine he became, and she worked hard to see that he did become more feminine. With that in mind, I figured she would make him into a pantywaist sissy, and that would be enough revenge."

"Hear! Hear!" arose from the crowd.

"As for the other two, it was a toss of the coin. As you know, the first runner-up has to present a feminine image until next year's contest along side the Queen."

"And weren't their expressions precious as they listened to the bombardment of promotional awards from every dress