panties which were so light he hardly could feel them at all around his bottom and thighs. Then he shrugged into the satin slip and felt its softness brush- ing his nylon clad legs and thought that it was really quite a pleasant feeling. He climbed into the bouffant petticoat and snapped the elastic around his trim little wasit.

'Now dear, make-up, so we don't spoil the dress while you're sitting down.'

He

Obediently he followed his mo- ther into her room and sat down in her lay back chair in front of the dresser mirror. He could not see his reflection from that position and he began to wonder how he would look when it was all over. His mother began by plucking away at his eye- brows again, and he was con- cerned that she might go too far but he said nothing. felt totally pampered as she massaged the creamy foundation into his skin and played around with little brushes and tubes on his eyes, cheeks and lips. She swung the swivel chair away from the mirror and tilted it into an upright position and placed his wig on his head and let go the ribbons holding the basketball pigtails and com- bed and brushed away at it until she satisfied with

was

its appearance and then lightly sprayed it with hair lacquer.

'Can I look,' Lyndon asked, desperate now to see what he looked like?

'Not yet, sweetheart, wait until I finish and we put the dress on. It'll be more of a surprise'.

'I'll bet,' Lyndon thought.

Mrs. Watson clipped a pair of earrings to his ears and fast- ened a string of fine pearls around his neck and slipped

a couple of rings onto his fingers. 'God, she's being thorough,' Lyndon thought.

'Pity such short finger nails,' Mrs. Watson commented, 'but then I guess all basketball girls have to have short fingernails. We'll try to shape them a bit tomorrow night and put some color on them. That'll help. Now let's get you dressed.'

Lyndon followed her back to his bedroom where she took down the dress and removed its hanger.

'Now arms up,' his mother instructed and she fed his hands into the armholes and eased the dress down over his torso and hips and closed the rear zipper. Around the front she adjusted the material of the sleeves and bodice, smiling all the time.

'You look lovely, dear,' she said.

'Can I see yet?'

'Just a minute. Just a minute.'

She picked up the high heeled shoes.

'I think you'll find these very comfortable,' she said, 'they were very expensive. But they have three and a half inch heels and it will take you a little while to get used to them.' She kneeled down in front of him. 'Just slip your feet into them and stand naturally. They won't break. When you walk take shorter steps and walk a little more on the balls of your feet.'

Lyndon slid his feet into the shoes which were a perfect fet and immediately comfort- able. He took a couple of steps and could sense straight away what his mother was saying to him.

11-

'Now you can look my lovely, lovely Lynda,' Mrs. Watson beamed. 'Come down to my room to the big mirrror.'

Lyndon led the way out of the room and down the hall concentrating on the high heels and their feel.

'Relax a little, darling,' his mother said behind him, 'you're too stiff. Let your body sway naturally.'

In the bedroom Lyndon turned to the large wall mirror and stood stock still in shock. His experience in the basketball tunic had convinced him he could look like a girl but he never before knew how much. The mirrored reflection showed a stunningly pretty young teenage girl. Mouth slightly agape he allowed his eyes to wander over the vision. The trim high heels and pretty ankles, the feminine curve of the calf, the wide skirt at knee length, the nipped waist and modestly full bosom, the slim arms and shoulders, and the face. That face with its red mouth and high cheekbones and dark flashing eyes and the pretty blonde hair. In a state of confusion he turned to his mother.

'Mommy I ..........'

'What darling? What is it?'

'I......' He turned back to the mirror and involuntarily put his hand to his face.

'What is it darling?' Mrs. Watson came to him and put her arm around his waist. In the mirror he could see two attractive women, one nothing more or less than a younger version of the other. His heart was poun- ding and he felt slightly faint. He could not take his eyes from the mirrored reflection.