home in the evening watching television when there was a knock on the door. He opened the door to admit a highly ex- cited Dianne.

'Guess what,' she cried, bursting in on the quiet domestic scene, 'you've won the player of the year award.'

Lyndon was delighted and his mother and Dianne both hugged him with pride and affection. Then Dianne suddenly quietened down.

'Now there's just one thing, and Mrs. Watson I'll have to ask for your support in this. Lyndon next Saturday night we have our end of season awards

and party night. You'll just have to be there to to accept It would be un- your award. heard of for you not to go.'

I can

'But how possibly,' said in dismay, 'it would give the game away completely. I'd be disqualified and the team would lose and everything.'

'I think I know a way we can overcome that problem, dear,' Mrs. Watson said.

'Yes so do I,' Dianne agreed, 'it's not really you who has to go Lyndon.

'You mean.........?'

'I

It's Lynda.'

own

mean that Lynda Wilson, a girl basketball player has to her accept award.' 'But I can't go to a party in my basketball outfit,' Lyndon protested.

'No dear, you can't,' agreed his mother,' and so we will have to get you something a little smarter than that.’

'Thank you Mrs. Watson" Dianne said, 'I knew I could count on you for support.'

'You m m mean a Lyndon was aghast?

dress,'

'Exactly,' Dianne said emphat- ically, 'you'll just have to be- come Lynda for one more night.' I just can't. I'd

'But I can't. look a fool.'

'Oh God,' Lyndon wailed, 'I didn't realise I was getting my- self into this mess.'

Dianne put her arm around his shoulder. 'You'll be OK. It's a great night. You'll enjoy yourself. Just be Lynda the basketball player.'

'I suppose I've got no choice.'

'None whatever, my sweet,' Mrs. Watson said with a smile. which looked somehow trium- phant.

During the week Lyndon's mo- ther went shopping, enjoying Lyndon every minute of it. knew what she was up to but it was not until Friday night when she had it all together that she insisted the time had come for a dress rehearsal. She dragged a protesting Lyndon off to the bedroom where he positively quaked at what was laid out on the bed for hom.

His mother had spared no expense. Lynda was not only going to be the best basket- baller 'she' was also going to be the best dressed girl at the awards. On the bed was a white satin torsolette, a pair of sheer white organdie French knickers, a satin slip lavishly trimmed with lace and a tiered, organdie full petticoat. As well a pair of super sheer skin toned nylon

- 10 -

stockings and a pair of high heeled pastel green satin covered courts. On a hanger on the wardrobe door was a sensational party dress, also in pastel green, with a fitted satin bodice with short sleeves, a nipped waist and a flared satin skirt with a layer of fine net over it.

'Come on now, off with those clothes and put these on and I'll be back in a minute,' Mrs. Watson demanded, handing Lyndon a pair of tiny white bikini pants.

Shivering slightly with apprehen- sion, Lyndon stripped off and pulled on the tight bikini briefs. His mother returned a few mo- ments later and took up the torsolette and wrapped it around his body and began to fix the hook and eye clips. It was tight but not unbearable, but he could feel that it was modi- fying his shape, pulling in his already slim waist and rounding his hips. Looking down he

could also see that what flesh there was around his pectoral muscles was being pushed up and out giving the illusion of the gentle swell of a pair of natural breasts. He found himself mildly intrigued and less panicky now that it was actually happening. Torsolette in place Mrs. Watson rolled the stockings and showed him how to ease them up his legs and attach them to the garter tabs on the torsolette.

'You'll have to shave your legs tomorrow night. The hairs growing again and you'll have to look your best.'

'OK,' Lyndon said resignedly, figuring now that he might as well cooperate and do it proper- ly as go on rebelling.

He stepped into the beautiful