"You're kidding. . . all that stuff couldn't be for me, could it?" I

said, viewing the array of clothing and accessories. Nancy nodded, and I said, "I never realized we women wore so much!"

"Now, I'll leave you while you put on those panties and that peign- oir. Call me when you're ready, and I'll come in and help you." She pecked me on the cheek and left the bedroom.

I stripped eagerly, anxious to begin my transformation, now that I had made up my mind. When I was nude, I picked up the panties and examined them. They were of bright orange nylon, with a row of lace on each hip. They looked rather small, but when I slipped them over my feet and tugged them up, the smooth fabric slid easily up my legs to fit snugly around my hips. I walked around a little to get the feel of them. Not bad, I thought. They were more comfortable than the masculine cotton briefs I was accustomed to.

I picked up the shimmering white nylon peignoir and slipped it on, noting how it caressed my body. It was a strange, but not unpleasant feeling. I called for Nancy, and she came in and stood looking at me for a moment.

"You're very cute, darling," she said. "You look almost like a girl already."

"These clothes even make me feel feminine . . . and I like it!” I said. "What's first?"

"Sit down there at the dressing table, and I'll put your makeup on."

I did so, and looked at the bottles and jars and tubes before me on the small table.

"Is all this going on my face?" I asked in awe.

"Most of it is," said Nancy. "Here, let me look at you." She turned me around and examined my face closely.

"Well, you don't need a shave, but I think your eyebrows could use plucking." She took out a pair of tweezers and, one by one, while I grimaced with pain, jerked out a hair here and there until she was sat- isfied.

48