Transvestia

and terrified.

She ordered me into my bedroom and told me not to come out until she called for me. I dashed for the bed- room and noted the clicking of my high heels as I bolted the door behind me.

Father and Mother talked quitely for five minutes until an earthquake of shouts shook the house. Father shouted with an intensity he never before had equalled. But Mother stood her ground. After twenty minutes of heated debate, in which my father called me a panty- waist and "morphodite" (he meant an hermaph Dodite), all I could hear was a din of mumbling.

Suddenly Mother called me. My nylon clad legs began to shake. I couldn't move. Soon she came to the door and I let her in. She reassured me and then led me into the livingroom to confront my Father.

Our eyes met and I could see the disgust and scorn he held for me.

What are you wearing underneath?"

He asked coldly.

! Everything from panties to a girdle and bra", I said as my voice quivered.

"You're an utterly disgusting pariah", he declared.

I noticed he had a suitcase resting near his feet.

"Marsha, you take this revolting "it" and make it as much of a woman as you want, because Charles isn't the son I always wanted", he yelled as he stormed out of the house not to return for two months.

After he left, Mother asked me to make a clear-cut decision between womanhood or manhood. Nothing in between would do.

I told her that I yearned only to be feminine, and for nothing manly.

She was overjoyed, and told me nothing would be

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