RANSVESTIA

One morning he wore his nightgown and stood against the sunlight in the window; I was prepared for that moment and told him that I was aghast at his exposure as I could see the full outline of his body. I quickly got a full-length nylon slip which I had bought at a bridal salon; it was lavishly decorated and was fitted at the waist, being closed by a zipper. I handed it to him, and demanded that he wear it. He didn't give me any argument, but in a minute had slipped it on, letting the lustrous fabric fall from his shoulders but although it reached the proper length, it didn't want to close at the waist.

This was part of my plan; I didn't know if he would accept a waist cincher, but I had a strip of cloth which I wound around his masculine waist tightly, pulling it in, and this worked; I quickly pulled the zipper up. The lovely slip fitted perfectly, and he modestly put his night- gown caftan over this.

His acceptance of the pretty slip enboldened me, and I made another move. I complained that my job was taking more of my time as I had greater responsibility and I couldn't spend hours making him pretty things any longer. As time went on, I bought him things, a night- gown and peignoir set, robes, panties, and other intimate apparel, including a waist cincher to replace the make-shift strip of fabric. He loved his new things and looked so sweet in a waltz-length night- gown and peignoir set, as he brushed his shining hair at the dressing table prior to coming to bed that I fell in love with him all over again.

While we enjoyed developing our own lives, events in the country were not going well; Nixon came into power. The bottom fell out of the aero-space industry, and Bill was one of the aero-space engineers who lost their jobs. And he couldn't find another one. We learned first- hand of the unemployment statistics, and Bill was devastated.

He went out day after day searching for work in his line, and then for work in any line, but he couldn't find it. From a sweet, smiling, and attractive feminine man, he changed to a depressed and forlorn individual who turned to his girlish clothes for solace. The tight con- striction of the waist-cincher seemed to bolster his morale, and I was glad that his soft garments did offer him something in his hour of need.

In an effort to help his morale and to give him a new outlook, I began putting makeup on his face. Time and time again, I would put bright lipstick on his soft lips, brush color onto his cheeks, outline his big

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