RANSVESTIA

As she held up the red short skirt, she said: "Grandpa would have whacked me in the woodshed if I had dared to wear such a thing." I could well imagine. I had seen the old photos of the old guy, a dic- tatorial-looking gent, sitting in an armchair, looking contented, while surrounded by his fawning wife and daughters, all in ankle-length skirts and high-necked bodices, standing, of course.

"Now you just put these away neatly, Chris ... and then we'll make dinner." I wiped my hands carefully on my apron before touching the delicate pretty garments and neatly folded them and put them in the drawer which lately had begun to bulge more and more.

That night when I kissed mother goodnight, she said: "Put on one of your new sleep-things, Lieber. I want to see how you look." Well, I thought, what harm can it do? After all, I do it only to please her. I took my corset off but left my bra on. I had goose flesh as I pulled the short gown on my hairless body and put on the matching pan- ties. Mome came in and there was that look again. All smiles and a tear or two. She hugged me tight and lovingly. There was such ten- derness in her eyes that at that moment I could not care if they had tarred and feathered me. She led me to the mirror.

"It's real nice," she said. "Just like I thought it would... like it was made for you."

I blushed. Like heck it was. What a thing to say. Made for a boy?? Nope... you should have seen me.

She took a hairbrush and pushing me in a chair, started to brush my growing hair. It felt nice - even nicer than when someone scratches your back. The way she did it ... gently with obvious af- fection as if she was proud of my healthy long locks. I saw that she enjoyed the closeness, too. So I let her have her way. She must have done more than the usual 100 strokes. She ended parting my hair and to my horror I found that it was long enough to put in two short pig- tails, which she tied with a blue ribbon, one in each plait to match the color of my nightgown.

I started to pull on the ribbon, but she playfully slapped my hand away. "Let it sit, Chris. This way it does not get fouled up during the night." She admired me, holding me with both hands at my shoulders. "You look just like my younger sister, Schipka, God bless her soul." She tucked me in bed, a thing she had not done in years.

49