RANSVESTIA

Judy wasn't with me in the garage. My mind strained for some kind of feeling. And the feeling was there. A feeling of someone forcing my feet into ridiculously tight shoes. And of someone else pulling my ribs into a tight vice-like contraption.

But there were sounds now. Judy. Talking to the Harris brothers out- side the garage! And the sounds came closer and closer until the garage door flew open and they were all standing there laughing at me and shouting....

My brain reeled from the sheer fright of it.

Then they were shaking me only it couldn't have been the Harris brothers because I had no feeling in that time zone. It had to be Sylvia's girls. "She's coming around, here, steady her in the chair," I heard Syl- via ordering.

I tried to focus my eyes but everything was like an impossible kaleido- scope as a million brilliant colors kept spinning before my eyes. Slowly, there were the five pairs of black patent spike-heel shoes, then, ever so slowly, the shapely legs in the black mesh stockings. Then the provoca- tive hips, the sensuously drawn-in wasp-waists, and the jutting volup- tuous breasts, and finally, the images of Sylvia's girls, and then the image of Sylvia herself, came into focus.

And now my senses were re-organizing.

The odor was not that of the crankcase oil and the grease on the floor of the Scott garage in Jamaica Plains, but of the even more intense per- fume of the WOMB girls. The sounds were not those of the Harris bro- ther's cruel laughter and taunting cries, but the subtle click-clack of Syl- via's goon-girls as they walked back and forth in front of me in their spike heels, talking enthusiastically to one another.

There was a strange unfamiliar taste but quickly the sensation of hav- ing my feeling organized with all my other senses made me forget the strange taste in my mouth.

The sensation was one of being outside myself and then slowly flow- ing inward, as if I was becoming my own reincarnation. They had laced me into a corset. It was almost impossible to breathe. I looked down at the crimson, sequined dress they had literally poured me into. My chest had the illusion of voluptuousness that heaved every time I tried to breathe.