"I'm glad you like them. Now that we know everything fits, we will pick out a few more". They got another bra, three pairs of sheer panties, a brown half-slip, a blue panty girdle, two more pairs of stretch nylons, and a red and blue skirt - blouse set. A pair of pink nylon baby doll pajamas, a blue silk and lace peignoir set, and white wedge heeled scuffs made up the nightwear for him.

While they were picking things out, Irene was busy boxing and totaling the bill. When she got through Mom wrote her a check.

"Well, I'll go change now".

"No, Billy, the clothes you wore in here are boxed now. You can just wear what you have on" his mother said.

"I can't do that". he protested, "someone might see me".

"Now don't worry, no one will see you. And if they do, they won't recognize you like this". She gently pushed him out the front door and to the car. The drive home was torture for him. He tried to keep his head down as much as he could.

When they got home, Billy grabbed the boxes and ran into the house. Mom found him upstairs in his room looking at himself in the mirror. The joy was gone from his face and had been replaced by a very sad look.

"Sit down here on the bed with me, Billy. I have some things to tell you". He sat down as she continued. “You are old enough to know certain facts that we have been hiding from you. My younger brother Raymond, the one we told you broke his neck in a fall when he was about your age, didn't fall. He hung himself in Grandmother's basement. When I found him, he was wearing a bra, a pair of panties and a dress. My own brother, hanging there dead, wearing my clothes. It was a shock I have never gotten over. You and Raymond have something in common. He was, and you are, a transvestite, someone who likes to dress in the clothes of the opposite sex. A psychiatrist I talked to after Raymond's death said that if he had been allowed to wear girl's clothes when he wanted to without hiding and having such a deep feeling of guilt and shame, he would not

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