Transvestia

tion that had begun within me.

Needless to say, I always changed clothes before Father returned from work.

Three days later everything came to a head when my Father caught me clad in panties just after I had taken a bath.

He flew into a rage and kicked me around until he had my mouth bleeding profusely. (Although I was his peer when it came to a physical conflict, I made no attempt to defend myself). He then stalked out of the house, to go on a binge.

The minute he left, I flew into my Mother's arms sobbing all the while.

Then I said. "Mother, Mother, I want to be a girl! "

"I know, I know,

and I intend to help you be as

girlish as you want, she said.

"But what about Father", I asked.

"It's time I asserted myself. This time I'll win, she said.

The next day, while Father was at work, Mother and I went shopping. She bought me a wardrobe that included dresses, skirts, blouses, capries, shorts, lingerie, heels, flats and five nylon gowns. I was so happy that I burst into tears. Yet, I was worried about my Father's re- action. Mother, however, had a plan.

When we returned home, Mother helped me into some of my new clothes, pinned up my hair, and applied a conservative amount of make-up, including lipstick, mascara, eyebrow pencil and pan stick. She drenched me with perfume and put some earrings on me.

I was throughly enjoying myself when I heard Father's car drive up. My heart jumped as I asked Mother to help me undress. She shook her head and told me that she had fixed me up so that Father could see me. I felt betrayed

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