RANSVESTIA

Of course, I eventually yielded because the idea thrilled me, and because I trusted these girls.

One day at Peggy Miller's house, it all came together. All the girls suddenly went into Peggy's bedroom, and I could hear some nervous giggles as they chose my costume. I was scared, but when everything was ready and the girls returned, I entered Peggy's bedroom and shut the door. My costume was neatly laid out on the bed. There was a powder blue pleated skirt, a soft, nylon blouse embroidered white on white at the yoke, and a pale blue angora cardigan. I remembered seeing Peggy in this outfit at school. The panties and brassiere were a dawn pink matching set, lace-trimmed by Vanity Fair. They were size thirty-six, and, I learned later, they belonged to Peggy's older sister. A sleek, blue, barbizon slip and a pair of tan sandals completed the ensemble. I was wearing my own nylons and garterbelt. I had never had anything so perfect available to me before, you can bet. Still, I was filled with misgivings as I dressed in the sensuous clothes, and it was with red-faced timidity that I opened the bedroom door and stood in the doorway facing the girls. But it turned out to be easy. They were not embarrassed, so I found that neither was I. It didn't take them very long to look at a boy in girls' clothes. Having selected the clothes, they all knew exactly what I was wearing, anyhow, and they were eager to begin experimenting with face makeup for me. That turned out to be pretty funny, and everybody had a fine time. They designed and re- designed my face, everyone contributing ideas. They were all too inex- perienced, themselves, to be very adept, so most of the results were pretty weird. It was a successful meeting, though, and on future club- days, I always dressed with the girls and was entirely at ease. They always liked best the makeup sessions, and some of the future results were reasonably sophisticated. As I reflect on those days, I suspect that the girls' pleasure may have derived from their personal participation in the feminization of a boy a kind of token retribution for the chauvinist treatment they had (already) received, throughout their young lives, from the boys around them. Whatever their subconscious motives, if any, it was all right with me.

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In the ensuing months, the club began to grow. As the girls made new friends in their classrooms, new girls were invited to join us. One day the new girl was Mary Lee, and I fell in love with her forever, the moment I saw her. I think everyone did. She was a transfer student from another high school, and I felt sorry for her classmates at the school that had lost her. She was such a darling girl. I knew girls who were more slickly pretty and a few who were classically beautiful, but

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