remained smooth and supple like a woman's. My hands and feet are small and dainty, with long, slim fingers and tiny toes.

All this would have been bearable however, if it hadn't been for my face. I have a smooth, creamy complexion that I suppose a lot of women would give an arm for, but I have always detested. My eyes are large, almost too large for my small face, and set wide apart. My lashes are extremely long, and this feature, combined with deli- cately arched eyebrows, give me a look of wide-eyed innocence. My nose is small and fine-boned, with a slight uptilt; full lips, and a round, narrow chin complete what, to me, is an extremely, disgustingly femi- nine face.

Until now.

Nancy, with her innocent compliment, had stated openly what I had suspected. Several times in the past, as I had gazed into a mirror and wondered idly what I would look like as a woman, I had been embar- rassed by such thoughts and had quickly put them out of my mind.

But now, someone else had expressed the same thought, and it had awakened something in me I didn't know existed. She had said one thing, but what I felt she meant was, "There is a woman within you, Paul Weston, and I want to bring her out!" We looked at each other for a long time, and during those silent moments an understanding was reached. I knew I would do whatever she wanted, because I wanted to as well.

"All right," I said quietly. Then, to relieve the seriousness of the moment, I said, "But if anyone makes any cracks, I'll slug 'em with my purse!"

"Don't worry, darling, when I get through with you, no one will be able to tell you from the real thing. Come on, we've got to get dressed; it's getting late!"

"All right costume is."

·

say, wait a minute. You haven't told me yet what your

"Just wait and see," said Nancy, as she took my hand and led me to her bedroom. There, on the bed, awaiting me was a complete feminine ensemble: bra, panties, slip, stockings... everything.

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