Happy Mother's Day!

Yeah - I'm well aware that none of my readers (well, damn few) are mothers.  But at the same time, I'm hoping that you who do - are giving your moms a lovely day.

Have a few things in mind for today.  The first is a question that Carrie - one of my very good friends - asked me some time back.  I was all poised to put it on my blog - and my own comment - but that was the week when Chrome went all stupid on me.  I think it is a damn good question, so her it is:

Something I have been meaning to ask you for some time – and maybe an   item for your blog. Do you think there are women who genuinely would like to   have men in female clothing( as distinct to women/wives who tolerate it or is   this just a major part of our fantasy. My opinion is that there are probably   some who would be curious but as a long term thing I doubt it. Our    real  fantasy I suppose  is the woman who forces, blackmails etc men   into female clothing, I seriously doubt there any, at least any genuine ones   who do it from their own desire/ sexual or otherwise. I have no doubt that   there are genuine dommes who like inflicting pain or humiliation on men   but  women who genuinely have a desire to practice forced feminisation on   males I doubt it. Was wondering if you have any views on the subject?   Rhetorical question I know but had to ask anyway

I did some thinking on this and my answer is a positive and definite "maybe".  Being deep in the closet when I practiced cross dressing on a regular basis, I had little contact with clubs or any such thing, so my experience is very limited.  BUT?  For a few years, I frequented Mrs.  Silk's Chat room.   Had a great time curtseying and kissing ass of dominant females.  At the same time, I was pretty damn sure that a lot of the dommes were actually men - but made it a point that I was never to be told.  And in reality, it was pretty pathetic I guess.  Simply SCADS of submissive males - and a bare handful of dominant 'females' (with a bloody big majority of them actually being males.)  I got fed up a few times, and went in as a domme myself.  To be honest?  I think I was well received - hell, think about it - I KNEW what was wanted.  But I did get a feeling - just once - that I was actually being dominated by a woman.  Could have been a wonderful actor - but that's just a feeling I got.

In another area?  I was a counselor for spouses of transvestites.  In those cases, it was women discovering that their husbands desired to dress and be treated as women - AFTER marriage. In a few cases, I don't think that the women actually 'hated' what they'd found out - it was mostly two things that raised their ire.  The first was that their boyfriends had kept this important thing a secret from them. The second?  If they accepted their husband in a feminine role?  The men then got greedier and greedier - wanting more and more.  I got the feeling that if the husbands had been a little slower in getting the relationship they wanted the women could get to like the idea. But I never really knew.  Still don't.  Anybody got any ideas?

I started with some short stories last week - other than serializing longer stories.  Didn't get one word that said it was a good or bad idea - but it really IS a lot easier for me - so I'll stay with the short ones until I find out differently.  There is also a point to be made for the short stories.  As most of you know, I'm now finding a distinct market for the sale of the stories that I gave away free for many years.  In collecting them for creation of books, I'm getting organized and finding stories that haven's seen the light of day since I first wrote them for "Bea's TV Channel" my first foray into the Internet back in the early 90's - so even some of my more regular readers may find things they haven't run into before.

Then - after the story?  A few of Rosie's 'bits'

Belle of the Ball

By Bea

I'd just had a shipment and couldn't wait for the weekend.  I called Sara, my Administrative assistant and told her I wasn't feeling well.  As she felt that she did most of the work anyway, she didn't seem too put out by my intended absence, just asked me innocently if I'd be at work the following day.  As I was pretty sure I would, I told her it was just a minor cold or something and that I was very sure I'd be in.  She thanked me, and as I knew I had the whole day now, I went back to bed for a while.

Leisurely I dozed, looking forward to my day.  Finally got up and made quite a production of cleaning myself off.  I don't shave much at all and probably didn't need to. But I thought that it might be a good idea, so did.  Cleaned my teeth and stuff.  Went and put my robe on and went out into the hallway where the Newsboy delivers the papers for the apartments.  Got mine and enjoyed a slow breakfast and a good read at the news.  I paid some bills – prolonging the feeling of excitement, and that took me to lunchtime.

I didn't want too much and, as I'd had a late breakfast, I got by with a small amount.  Then I ran a deep bubble bath.  Took some of my favorite stories in there and read them.  Had a terrible time keeping my hands to myself, but I certainly didn't want to waste myself – would spoil what I knew was coming.  The phone rang a few times, but I didn't answer it.  Was quite surprised when they didn't leave a message, but figured that with me not being in the apartment that long – and keeping it partially secret, I wasn't going to get too many callers.  Not especially from Kristy – my divorced wife – who still thought I could only afford that shitty-arsed condo.  But she had screwed me out of plenty in the divorce – time I got a little of my own back, I thought as I settled into my warm, lovely bath and closed my eyes, putting the magazine down.

Later, the water was getting too cool and I knew that my anticipation was becoming too much.  Breathing faster now, I got up and started to drain the bath.  Dried and powdered myself ant then proud of my self discipline I started to get dressed, taking my own sweet languorous time.

Glazed in the eyes with suppressed desire, I finally sat at the dressing table mirror. I guess I was drunk with something or other, because I most certainly heard the main front door unlock but was awfully slow in doing anything sensible.  I think I was telling myself that I was hearing things, when Kristy and Sara both stood in the doorway to my bedroom, looking at me.

"My!  My!" Kristy said.  "Would you just look at THAT?"

"Oh Yesss!"  Sara said. "My boss?  Said he had a cold.  Think that's a cure?"

"Is that what your nice lingerie is dear?  A cure for your cold?" Kristy cooed. "Must admit that it is VERY pretty! How come you never put on nice clothes like that when you were married to me?"

"What – WHAT are you two doing here?" I stammered, my attempt at an outraged roar rather pitiful as a man in dainty lingerie just has problem if he wants to look commanding.

"What?  Why we're just coming to visit. See how you're doing?" Kristy said.  "Imagine – you must have forgot that you owned this place when you listed the assets you had for the divorce."  Her voice lost the soft tone it had for a second as she added. "You crooked little pansy you!"

"Kristy dear?  You'll frighten the poor little thing – getting all mean like that."  Sara was talking mockingly as she came into the bedroom and dropped a bag on the floor.  She walked right up to me and gently felt the material of my slip.  "That's SO lovely! Expensive too, I'll bet!"  She turned to Kristy.  "And I'll bet he didn't declare all his pretty expensive clothes to the divorce judge either.  Said he was living at the poverty level!"  She patted my cheek.  "Matching bra and garter belt too!  My goodness!  Going out on the town were you?"  She pulled up the hem of my slip and I was powerless to stop her.

"Just as I thought!" she crowed. "Matching panties too! All lacy and lovely!"

Kristy was standing right in front of me as well now, smiling as she fingered the material of my lingerie.  Addressed Sara as she slowly felt the material.

"I must admit being surprised at YOU Sara!  So forgiving!  So nice! After all the mean things he said about you in your last few reviews – even when he KNEW you did most of his work!  Even let you do a lot of his own work – on his own personal computer at work!"  She patted my cheek as well. "Your lingerie DOES feel wonderful dear. Now I wonder why Sara and I brought anything at all!"

"I don't understand.  How did you find this place?  How did you get IN?  You brought something?" I was almost weeping with frustration.

She patted my cheek soothingly.  "You're so darling when you're puzzled!  Sara got into your computer system!  How do you think?  You keep ALL sorts of confidential stuff there!"  She wagged her fingers at me. "You should never have been so trusting! Your password was pretty easy to figure out!"

"You know?" I asked Sara.

She smiled. "Yes!  All sorts of things – including all your access to those femina web pages.  Pretending you were SUCH an obedient little girl!  Letting those mannish women boss you around!"  She spoke to Kristy.  "He'd blush so nicely when I'd find some reason I HAD to interrupt him!"  She looked at Kristy and smiled tenderly. "He'd blush so prettily! One time I checked the time and where he'd been. I think the little dear was being virtually spanked when I interrupted!"

"Looked as if he was enjoying it?" Kristy asked.

"Of COURSE!  All soft and dewy eyed! If I'd known at that minute?  I might have offered to spank him myself!"  Sara sighed theatrically. "But the little dear was too shy to tell me!"

"Look what you've just done!" Kristy laughed.  "He got all demure and lowered his eyes as you talked – just like that book said submissives do!  I think he was flirting a bit with you – maybe?  Isn't that what the book says he's doing?"

"That's so cute!" Sara laughed, putting a hand under my chin and lifting my eyes up to meet hers.  "Would you like that sweetie? Having nice old Sara putting you over her knees?  Acting as if she was mean?  Spanking you on your panties?"

"Enough! You'll get him all excited!"  Kristy laughed.  Then she spoke to me. "Once Sara got into your computer, finding this place wasn't too hard."  Then her voice got mock firm. "You really MUST get nicer with your cleaning lady Elena!  She doesn't like you for some reason.  Sara and me? We got friends with her really quick and she did some digging.  We all enjoyed it and laughed like hell when she found your stash of lady things!  She described them all in such loving detail!"

I felt myself sag. "She knows too?"

Kristy shrugged.  "Of course. She really doesn't care about you being a pansy – she's gay herself, but she let us copy the key.  Wasn't that nice of her?"

"Oh."  I said.

"But all this girlish gossiping? Why don't you get your pretty things off, huh?"

Grateful to get out of my embarrassing clothes, I said.  "Okay.  I'll just go into the . ."

"No need for that darling!  Sara's getting your other clothes out of that bag."

I looked, but couldn't determine what the clothes were – but could see that they were not masculine at all.

"For me?" I wailed.  "Why get me to change?  I am in ladies clothes!"

"Well? It's like this. Sara and I felt that we'd never treated you properly!  That's why you didn't raise a fuss when I wanted a divorce!  That's why you never found Sara's performance good.  Same reason!  Now we know what you really want? We'll dress you up and dominate you.  You'll be so HAPPY!  You'll just love us!  And we know that you'll understand us SO much more if you wear what we tell you."

"But it was you that wanted to divorce me!" I cried.

"True!  But you had become pretty sad in bed – it was ME that had to do the work.  And then sometimes I smelled perfume on you!  What else was I to think, huh?  I thought you had another woman!  Silly me!  Now let's get your slip and bra off.  Quick now!"

Under her watchful eye, I pulled my slip off then blushing, took my bra and falsies off.  It was so humiliating sitting there in front of my ex-wife and secretary in nothing but panties, garter belt and stockings.  Kristy saw this and was nice enough to hand me my slip, which I draped over my groin – hoping that it hid the erection I had – although I wasn't very sure.

Then Sara was helping me into a different, jet black bra.  It seemed a lot cheaper to me, but I didn't want to say anything. It seemed the wrong size – much bigger.  Then smiling, Kristy made some marks – tiny ones- on my body and, next thing they want me to take the bra off again!  Naturally. I had no idea of what was wanted, but did as I was told.

Then, giggling and laughing they were brushing something that felt cold around my breasts.

"What are you doing?" I asked plaintively.

"Just HUSH!"  Kristy laughed. "WE know what you want!  Just wait!"  Then.  "Isn't he lovely and smooth?"  She added to Sara.

Then I saw the breasts they were going to stick onto me.  They didn't look very big at first, but as the used the marks they'd made for indexing, then sat back for a moment, I saw that my breasts were HUGE!"  Stuck out in front of me – like I don't know what.

"Don't you think that those are kinda big for my frame?" I asked the ladies nervously.

"Don't be silly!"  Sara answered.  "Just wait until all the other girls see them – they'll be wild with jealousy!"

"Silly thing!" Kristy admonished me. "You'll love big breasts!  After all, they're womanish – to say the least. Nobody'll ever take you for being a man with huge tits sticking out at them, will they?"

Then from the bag, it was a black corset.  Very firm as they wrapped it around my waist cooing and laughing as they did so.  I thought it was firm as they adjusted it – but then they started hauling on the laces at the back and I knew what firmness was.  Then it was me taking a breath, letting it all the way out – and them hauling some more.  I actually started to faint before they relented, stopped pulling it further, but tied me in at the back where it was.   Then the slip over my head. 

I was dazed and they allowed me to rest as they reached under my slip and exchanged the panties and garter belt for ones that matched what they had brought – then black mesh stockings as I looked on, gradually getting my wind back, but still felt breathless and woozy.  I would have complained about my lack of privacy as their hands exchanged the various garments but it dawned on me that there was no intimacy in what they were doing – it was almost as if I were a piece of meat.

It was a full length slip I suppose, but very short, well above my knees, with the straps from the garter belt dangling down below the hem.  The stockings had black laced tops going to just above my knee so that once attached to the garter belt straps there was a bit of bare flesh showing under the slip.

"Perfect!" Sara laughed.  "Very sexy indeed!"

Then they told me to take the stockings off again.  With some hope that they were now allowing me to disrobe, I did as I was told.  It was a false hope however.

"We just wanted to ensure a proper fit."  Kristy told me.  Then they applied a bright red, fast drying polish on my toe nails.

"I used to wonder about his need to have well tended toe nails.  Wasn't I stupid!" Kristy laughed.  "Looks lovely now!"

Then it was back on with the stockings again.

The women were in complete power now – and knew it.  They had thought they were in control when they had come in but their confidence had grown incrementally as my helplessness became ever more apparent in the face of their assurance. Now, they had the fondness that a child has for a favorite toy – in girl's a doll to prettify.  Now they were dressing me up, smiling at each other as they made me more and more feminine.  Shy and demure now, I simply stood as they stroked and caressed me and laughed at how pretty they were making me.

When Kristy produced the high heeled shoes I was to wear I almost fainted with a mixture of fear and wanting. They were SO much higher and more daring than anything I had ever thought of buying for myself.  Black and strappy, but the platform soles HAD to be at least one inch thick.  And the heels?  My God! Maybe five or six inches high!

"I CAN'T wear those!" I gasped.

"Of course you can!"  Sara assured me.  "Your toes will look lovely.  On top of that?  I want to punish you a little and I want you in really high heels so that I get the most out of it."  She had a sort of thin riding crop in her hands and started to swish it through the air.

"Punish me?  What for?"  I panted, my eyes fixed on her switch.

"Because you have been very mean to me at times."  She gave a short laugh.  "I mean, I look at you now in your ladies underwear and wonder at myself for never seeing what a little pantywaist you were – but I don't want you to think that I'm soft.  Get your shoes on girly.  If you don't hurry up . .  ?"  She left the rest of the threat unsaid.

"I won't think you're soft, Sara!  Promise!" I pleaded but hurrying up and putting the shoes on and fastening them.  I could tell right way that they fitted.

She brandished the crop at me. "On your feet dear!"

I got up tremulously.

"Sure you want to do this Sara?"  Kristy asked.

"Oh yes. I even brought a switch along for you – if you want to try it as well?" Sara asked her.

Kristy's eyes grew round and large.  "Me?  I couldn't!"

Sara shrugged.  "Up to you.  I intend to have a little fun."  She looked at me.  "Think you can squeal? If you can, I'll enjoy it – and won't hurt you so much?"  She started toward me.

"I don't know if I can."  I started to say, then tried to get away from her, but found out that I was tottering on my heels.  Found out that I could squeal delightfully as her first cut at me whipped across my buttocks.

"OOOOH!  Would you listen to him!"  Sara whooped with laughter.  "This is GREAT!"  Then she gave me another cut, and I squealed and pleaded again.

"Don't see why you should have all the fun!" Kristy said and joined Sara in gently whipping me around the room.  Both of them telling each other how much fun they are having.

In all honesty, the pain wasn't awful. It was a stinging pain when the crops landed, but the girls weren't out to really hurt me.  Humiliate and embarrass me – yes – and they did.  I mean, here I am in black lingerie, mewling and staggering, squealing and pleading as two attractive young women take turns at driving me around the room – the one not caning me, taking pictures.  Finally, eagerly, I accept their invitation to make me pretty – agreeing whole heartedly, that I'll love EVERY minute of what they do.

And I thanked them SO sincerely as they plucked my eyebrows and pierced my ears.  Could hardly contain my enjoyment as they glued heavy mink eyelashes over my own. Then they asked if I would like some tiny injections to plump up my lips – give me those luscious pouting lips that so many women just loved to have!  They were SO happy to take video camcorder shots of me kissing them and thanking them!

When I dressed by myself before, I was always conservative, but as I stepped into the black satin tight sheath skirt and the yellow satin blouse with long sleeves and large black buttons up the front – with the top one left undone to show portions of my 'breasts' and bra? I could see the floozy they were making me into. With horror I saw that the tops of my stockings were sometimes visible under my skirt.

"Please don't ladies? I'm dreadfully sorry.  I'll be much nicer in the future!" I said vainly trying to cover myself with my hands.

"Of COURSE you will!"  Kristy laughed, gently taking my hands away. "You're turning into SUCH an attractive little thing! Now let me turn this camcorder on again, so you can ask us properly to put all your lovely makeup on!"

I've seen that camcorder shot since.  Shy and demure, I look into the camera and explain how happy I am with what Sara and Kristy are doing to me – and the shots are taken along the way, as they gradually transform me into a 'lady of the evening'? Isn't that what they call whores – politely?  The long blonde, platinum, hair that they showed me, just clinched what I suspected.

I had seen them mark the inside of the wig with a little hi-liter before they tried it on me, then they took it off after adjusting it to their satisfaction – cooing at how lovely it was going to be.  My hair wasn't too long, but I couldn't understand why they seemed to be cutting off snippets of my hair – then they actually shaved these areas.  Tiny areas, but I wondered what was going on.

"Please ladies?  What are you doing?"  I asked plaintively.

"Making sure that your lovely wig stays on properly!"  Sara laughed putting dabs of cold feeling stuff on my scalp where they'd shaved.

Then the peroxide wig was placed on my head again.  This time they adjusted it quickly, then held it firmly in place for about a half minute.

"Ooooh! Isn't she just the cutest little sexpot?" Sara laughed. Then she pulled my hair a little!

"Ow!" I cried.  Then it dawned on me – there was no give whatsoever on my scalp.  The wig felt as if it were my very own hair!

The two women were totally satisfied now.  "Just your makeup now Tiffany!"  Sara laughed. "Let's get this show on the road.  I'm just dying to see the finished product!"

I didn't protest the name – it was what I'd used when I'd ventured into the female dominatrix web pages.

It didn't take long before my transition into a flashy whore was finished.  Long, black eyelashes – obviously fake with some metallic blue eye shadow.  Deep dark lips to match my finger and toe nails.  Red cheeks.  I shuddered but didn't complain when they applied LOTS of perfume around me.

"We know we shouldn't use real earrings yet – but we don't want to waste time!" Kristy said, fixing long dangling earrings into my lobes.  Just make sure to put alcohol onto them for the next day or so and they should be all right."

Then a chunky fake coral black necklace and a matching bracelet on my wrist and slave bracelet on my ankle, and I was done.  Speechlessly, I was led to the full length mirror to see what they'd made of me.  Since childhood I have been entranced by clothes of the opposite sex – although I never wanted to be a woman.  I hid my desire to be dominated by anyone of the female sex by hiding this desire – too well, I thought grimly.  Now, my ex wife and current Administrative Assistant had dressed and made me appear like a female prostitute. 

I must admit that I was sexually thrilled by what they had done and at the same time humiliated to the extent that I hoped it was almost over.  Again, I was being stupidly optimistic.

"Walk across the room for us dear." Kristy asked me.  "Then come back.  Don't shamble.  Walk properly."

"It's very difficult Kristy dear?" I mumbled as I wobbled across the room and back. "I'm sorry, but those shoes make walking very difficult."

"Not very good!"  Sara said. "Do it again Tiffany."

When I got back, Kristy beckoned me to her.  "Lift your skirt, bare your panties and get over my knees."

"But I'm trying my best!  Please don't spank me. Please Kristy!" I cried.

"Would you just listen to this little sissy! I used to be married to him!  Good God!" Kristy said disgustedly.   "Just do as I tell you Tiffany - or I really WILL spank you!"

Blushing I worked my skirt and slip up and went to her. It was difficult because of the tight clothes, but I finally laid myself over her knees.

She didn't waste any time. Within seconds my panties had been pulled down and I gasped as seconds later something gooey was being worked into my anus.

"What . . Kristy .  what -  please Kristy – what . . ooooooh!" I yelped and then cried out as something hard and cold was pushed up my back passage.

She gave me a hard spank on my panties. "Wish you'd behave properly!" she said firmly as she worked my panties back up. "Now get up from my knees and fix your skirt."  Then she laughed. "You maybe don't LOOK like a lady – but at least you can try to act like one. Now, walk over to the other side of the room and back again."

I looked at her horrified. "I can't Kristy!  I need to go to the bathroom!"

"Don't be silly!  You have a butt plug up your ass.  Just feels that way.  Now go and do as I tell you – or I'll put you over my knees again – for a spanking this time!"

The girls laughed uproariously as I did as she told me.  Yes, I believed her in my brain – but my backside was convinced that I was going to shit in my panties.  To prevent this, I had to take the tiniest steps imaginable and, at the same time keep a semblance of balance by breaking my wrists and holding my hands out sideways – a most effeminate way of walking.

"I don't think he's going to run away!" Sara giggled.

Kristy couldn't answer her for laughing.  Then she sobered up. "Time to go?" She asked.

I almost wept in fright and shame as they gave me a feathered black jacket to wear over my blouse – elbow length sleeves and open at the front, tight across my huge bust.  A bright patent leather handbag that contained my drivers license, keys to my apartment, and makeup.  Keeping my eyes down on the ground, I minced along in front of them hugging my handbag and was shepherded into Kristy's car. HAD to keep my legs together to get in. Even then, could not avoid seeing my shameful display of thigh and gartered stocking tops as I got in.

I started to weep when I saw where they took me. It was after normal hours, but this was a bank that stayed open late. I know that I turned white under my makeup when I had to go to the teller and tell her I wanted to clean out my checking account to $100 0 then wanted to get into my security deposit box.

The teller started to ask me for identity and I gave her my license.  "I'm his wife." Kristy explained. "He's thinking of changing his sex and I want to control his money and assets before he does something stupid."  She showed her license to prove that she still carried my last name. That meant that she and I could get into the security deposit box area.

"Quite a nice little haul!" She commented as we left.  "I don't know what you think Tiffany – but I DO intend to give you some of this back over time.  But we have something to do first."

"Haven't you done enough?" I asked bitterly.  "That's about everything I have! I'm also wiped out emotionally, if that's anything to you!"

"Actually? I have done enough!" She laughed.  "What we are about to do now is Sara's idea."

"Huh?" I asked.

Sara smiled. "Just a thought for you dear.  I'll explain when we get there."

I don't want to go into details but the Mexican border isn't any major distance from where I live. Maybe an hours drive. I felt my eyes get big and round when we crossed over the border.  Let's face it – Mexico is NOT a haven for transvestites.  Can be quite nasty if you don't watch what you're doing. I was SO frightened, but the girls seemed to know where we were going. It wasn't too long before we drove up to what appeared to be a bar – maybe a small restaurant.

"Okay sweetie. Out you go!"  Sara said.

I was SO scared that they were going to drop me off there, but could see that Kristy was readying to leave the car and that Sara had stopped the engine and was withdrawing the keys, so managed to stop from asking any questions and left the car. There was a neon sign, but other than that it was fairly dark, although the car park had a few cars in it. It was dark by that time.

"I need to go pee."  I admitted as we headed for the door.

"Never been here before."  Kristy admitted. "But I'll bet there's a ladies restroom you can use."

I wasn't crazy enough to argue. Knew that there was NO way that I had any intention of going into a men's room that night – not dressed the way I was.  Surprisingly, although I still had the butt plug and was mincing in a most ladylike manner, I was at least able to move at something close to a walking pace.  Slow, but getting there.

Then, we were inside. It was a typical bar – although, unlike California, smoking was permitted and there was a haze to the air. My two companions paused and I immediately sensed they were looking for somebody.  Being obvious gringos – we drew immediate attention from everybody.

"'Allo senoritas?  Want a drink? The bartender was a swarthy woman with a short blond haircut."

"Una momento?" Sara answered.  "Elena here?"

"SI!" A voice rang out, and Elena appeared from behind some big guys.  "Made it, huh?" She turned to me. "Tiffany? Nice chick now?"  Her accent was strong, but her English was excellent.

I found it hard to take my eyes from my cleaning lady – she was transformed. She was fairly young and had a nice figure I suppose – I'd never paid that much attention – but she was wearing a long peroxide wig – a yellow satin blouse – black satin skirt with large buttons – and seemed to have a proturbent breast line now.  She was my TWIN!

"Yeah Eena!  Isn't he pretty?  But the little darling needs to go to the ladies?" Sara laughed. "How's about I order drinks while you're gone?"

Elena smiled. "Come along then Tiffany!  You look so pretty!  Isn't it nice that we look so alike? It was me that picked your outfit.  Aren't we nice?" 

She was far more adept in her high heeled shoes than I was, but she smiled and put an arm on mine – and like two girls, we headed into the restroom.  Naturally, I headed for a stall and sat down to pee. Breathed a gigantic sigh of relief.

When I exited into the main bathroom, Elena was freshening her lipstick.  She smiled into the mirror, waved her lipstick. "We have exactly the same.  Isn't that nice?  But yours needs fixing.  Come here!"

Somehow I didn't want to argue with her, so stood placidly as she touched up my lips.

"I think you want to powder your nose?" She said next, pulling a compact from her purse and I pulled my own compact.

And that was how my wife Kristy found me when she came in seconds later – standing and powdering my nose beside a girl.

"Got the keys from Tiffany yet?" She asked Elena.

"I was going to get them later,"  Elena said.  "But it doesn't matter." Then she turned to me. "Can I have your house keys please? I gave mine to your wife and Sara."

"But I'll need . ." I started.

"Tiffany!"  Kristy said, so I went into my purse and gave Elena my keys quickly.

In an effort to hide my cowardice I went back to powdering my nose.  Thought I might stir up a little animosity between the women. "But Kristy and Sara said you were gay?"  I asked Elena conversationally.

She and Kristy exchanged puzzled glances, before she answered.  "But I am?  So what?"

"Well, that looks like a mixed gender crowd out at the bar." I said.

The women laughed.  "You're about the closest thing there is to a real man in the building."  Kristy laughed.  "Think these were guys that were eying you up and whistling at you when you came to the Lady's room?"

"Yes!  I've got Ernesto and Pedro for us when we go back.  Aren't we lucky?" Elena smiled.  "Pedro really fancies you!  She may act real tough – but she's a doll!"

I gulped and tried to put a straight face on it.  "Lovely.  But I don't think that Sara and Kristy want to spend too much time here – and I'll probably leave with them."

Kristy shook her head. "Tiffany dear?  You really pissed Sara off during a review some while back.  Said she wasn't adaptable?  She's now seeing how adaptable YOU are.  You see – I've got just about all your savings.  You probably won't be at work for a while – and they are already making noises about Sara taking over your job.  Elena will be sharing your apartment when you get back . ."

"Can we go back tonight Elena?  I'm scared of this place."  I said.

Kristy shook her head. "You don't understand dear.  Sara and I are just about to leave.  Elena will be leaving soon with HER girlfriend.  You've got Pedro.  From what Elena tells me – Pedro's English is pretty bad – but I'm sure you can convince her to take you back to the States – maybe in a day or two?"

"A DAY or two?" I mewled. "But I have no money – and how will I get through Border Control looking like a woman – while all I have is my license?"

She shrugged. "I think that's where Sara sees your adaptability coming in!  I'm POSITIVE you'll be knocking at Elena's door pretty soon!  Goodnight Tiffany!  Have a nice time!"

The end

And now for Rosie!

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX#36

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over the weekend?” I asked my son, “You said Sandra was away until Sunday evening, and I don’t like the idea of you being all alone in that big house of hers.”

“I’ll be fine, mom,” he replied, “And beside, I don’t have any of my clothes here anymore.”

“You can always borrow your brother’s, you know that,” I said.

“I’m not sure Will likes me borrowing his stuff,” he said, “If I could find anything that fit me, that is.”

“Your being silly,” I said, “On both counts. You two are practically of the same stature, and of course Will doesn’t mind you borrowing his clothes. Anyway, he won’t be back until next week, so if you’re worried about that, we just don’t need to tell him. He won’t notice.”

I challenged my son with my stare. A few moments later, he gave up.

“Okay,” he said, adverting his eyes.

“Splendid,” I said, “Why don’t you get changed right away?”

“Whatever for?” He moaned.

“There’s a film playing at the theater that I’d very much like to see, and it would be nice if you kept me company,” I explained, “Of course you possibly can’t go like that.”

I pointed to his old t-shirt.

“It’s bad enough you visit your mother dressed like that,” I added.

“Do I have to?” he asked, but he was already getting off his seat.

I didn’t need to reply.

Ten minutes later I knocked on my younger son’s bedroom door.

“Come in,” Bert replied.

Wearing one of his younger brother’s floral dresses, he was sitting behind the vanity table, painting black liner on his eyes.

“Let me help you with that,” I said.

“It’s not really necessary,” he replied, but handed me the black pencil anyway.

Truly, he didn’t need my help – he has done a more than adequate job of applying makeup himself, though as his mother, I couldn’t help but add a finishing touch. Nor did he seem to mind it.

“Really, Beatrice,” I said, “Why can’t you be like your brother? Why do you need to be so stubborn about it? It’s not just yourself you’re fooling, you’re fooling Samantha as well.”

“I know,” he said softly – surprising me, as I expected him to launch into another ‘don’t tell me how to live my life’ lectures as he usually did, “But it’s hard.”

I hugged him and held him close for a long time.

“Don’t worry,” I hushed in his ear, worrying that he might start crying. Of course I encouraged a good, thorough cry, but I didn’t want him leaking mascara all over my blouse!

“Think how nice it would be,” I said, “You’ll have your own proper clothes again, no need to borrow from your brother.”

“About that,” he said as we broke our embrace, “This dress was the only sensible thing I could find in Will’s closet, and even it is kinda young.”

“All the more reason to get your own wardrobe,” I said softly.

“Until then, could I borrow your clothes instead?”

We had just cleared away the table from our Sunday lunch. Bert, Beatrice as I called him, was wearing my knee length white A line skirt along with his pink angora twin set. The day before I had taken him shopping, to a restaurant to dine then to a bar where we even danced for a bit. No one had taken him for anything else than a girl.

“Well, guess I’ll go change,” he said, looking at his watch, “Samantha will be home any time now.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, “You can keep my skirt if you like.”

“No, I mean, change back to my male clothes,” he said.

Now, I decided, was a time for a good cry.

Quickly, before he had a chance to react, I pulled him over to me, then over my knees. Raised his skirt and slip, then proceeded to spank him on his pantied ass until my hand hurt.

“Won’t you ever stop your foolishness?” I said after I had finished.

“But mom,” he cried, “You don’t know what Samantha will do if she sees me like that.”

“Neither do you,” I hissed, “So there’s only one way to find out.”

My son opened the door for me. Samantha had invited me to spend the weekend at their house. As Will, or Veronica, was at home, I thought it would be good for both of us if I left him home alone for a while, he was of that age, after all.

“Beatrice,” I cooed, hugging him. In his pink maid’s uniform, he looked adorable.

“Hello, Dora,” Samantha said, “Glad to see you recognize your son.”

“Oh, Sam, don’t be silly,” I said, “Though if you don’t mind me asking – why the uniform?”

“It seemed only natural,” she replied, “After I had him quit his job and stay home, he seemed so lost, so without a direction. As if he needed a job to define himself. So I got him a new job, and a uniform for it.”

I handed Beatrice my coat and purse, walked inside.

“Whatever made you two keep this from me all that time?” Samantha asked.

XXXXXXXXXXXX#37

I let myself in my son’s house, or should I say my daughter-in-law’s house, as it was hers really. My son was vacuuming the living room. The sun was in my eyes but I could make out the dress-like silhouette of the frilly, full apron he was wearing. Well, the apron Andrea, his wife, made him wear.

I won’t say I enjoyed seeing my son forced into, well, let’s face it, women’s work, much less into wearing feminine aprons, but as he proved unable to get or hold a job, it was only fair that he did his share of work. If Andrea provided all the income, he should help her out with the housework. I didn’t always agree with Andrea’s rather authoritative methods of keeping him in line, but then again, Jeremy has always needed a strong hand over him.

Beside having him do the women’s work, Andrea seemed to regard him less of a man than he was, or so it seemed to me. He kept buying him the frilliest of aprons for his housework, even started calling him ‘Jane’. In my view, that was unnecessary but then again, it was their marriage so I stayed out of it. However, that didn’t prepare me for the shock that was to come.

I knocked on the open door to get my son’s attention. As soon as he heard me, he twitched, turned off the vacuum cleaner, but remained behind the couch.

“Hi, mom,” he said nervously.

“Hello, Jeremy,” I said, “Ready to go?”

“About that,” he said, “Look, is it possible…”

“Is what possible?” I asked, rather strictly and walked into the room. As if he were afraid of me, he backed away, though kept facing me. The first thing I noticed when I turned from the sun was that he didn’t seem to be wearing any pants under his apron.

“Look, mom, it’s not my fault?” he said nervously.

“What’s not your fault?” I asked, then I noticed he was wearing women’s shoes, with a two inch heel.

“Take your apron off,” I said dryly.

Obediently, he untied the sashes at his back and pulled it over his head. He stood before me, wearing a full, knee length floral skirt and a white silk short sleeved blouse.

“Alright, what is the meaning of this?” I asked.

“Andrea made me wear that,” he almost cried.

“Whatever for?”

“I was… I mean, she thought I was being rude to her mother,” he said, “But I wasn’t!”
”I’ll bet,” I said, “And I suppose this has nothing to do with the fact that we were supposed to go shopping for my gown for the wedding.”

My daughter was about to get married and Jeremy promised he’d go look for my dress for me.

“Please, mom,” he said, “I can’t go like this.”

“Then change,” I said.

“Andrea won’t let me,” he replied sheepishly, “I’m supposed to keep these on until she gets home.”

“I have a good mind to call Andrea up right now,” I said, “Because if this turns out to be a trick of yours to weasel out of your promise, so help me…”

“It isn’t!” he cried, afraid I’d really call his wife.

“I’m not going to call her,” I said, “Because I don’t want to waste her time. If she really had you put on a skirt, then that’s that. Then again, if that’s your own idea, she probably doesn’t want to be bothered with news of your foolishness until she gets home.”

“It really isn’t my idea, mom,” he said, calmer again.

“Be it as it is,” I said, “You’ve promised you’d go shopping with me today, and that’s a promise you’re not going to break.”

“But mom,” he whined, “You can’t possibly expect me to go out like this.”

“You’re right,” I said, “Not exactly like this. First of all, take off these clothes.”

“I told you, I can’t,” he said.

“I wasn’t finished!” I snapped, “And don’t worry, you’ll put them right back on. But, as I said, take them off, go to the bathroom, take Andrea’s depilatory and get the hair off your legs, chest, armpits, anything below the neck, actually. Then you can put the clothes back on.”

“Take off your blouse,” I said when he finally reappeared. I wasn’t the least surprised to find he was wearing a bra underneath it, beside the full length slip.

I stuffed the cups of his bra with some tissues, then applied makeup to his face.

“Pay attention to what I’m doing here,” I said, “I won’t be around to do your makeup every time.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked weakly.

“The wedding,” I replied matter-of-factly, “Surely you don’t think I won’t have anything better to do than fix the bridesmaid’s makeup.”

That's it sissies - see you next week!  Remember!  Be good to your mummies!

Definitely BACK!

First of all?  My many thanks to Suzi at dclem.  She stayed on my back just enough to have me try to post one more time.  Suggested that I change my browser to Firefox. At first there didn't seem to be a change - but there WAS a little more capability to post.  Then I tried Firefox again - and it improved my posting beyond recognition.  Thanks Luv!

Boy do I dislike programmers.  Don't get me wrong - they are indispensable to do a job that bored the hell out of me.  But they have absolutely no idea of how to work with the public, their scheduling sucks and their idea of staying within a budget is laughable.  (Before I retired, I was a system architect and managed a computer support group - so have some idea of what I'm talking about).

More and more, I see changes being made by programmers, with explanations being gibberish or non-existEnt.  Google e-mail. is a perfect example.  It has improved vastly since its inception, but at the beginning was awful.  Chrome's takeover of blogspot is another case in point.  I simply wish that those silly buggers would TEST what they're doing before they inflict the poor users.

But I'll get off my soapbox now and end this diatribe.  Thanks again, Suzi.

Remember how I made a deal for a missing story of mine some months back?  Looks like I have to do it again.  Seem to have lost a story of mine. "Home is Where the Hearth Is." Anybody that wants to send me a .doc version of this?  I'll give you a choice of any of my books (see my Smashwords library) as a swap.  First one to send me that story wins!

I'm not exactly trusting  Chrome yet, so don't want to get into any serials until I'm more positive that they won't screw me up again - so I think I'll try complete short stories again for a while.  One thing about publishing my books is that it's forced me to get more organized and I'm finding quite a few stories that I published in Bea;s TV Channel back in the early 90's - so even older readers of mine may come across a few surprises.

As I was doing, I'll add a few of Rosie's 'bits' at the end - so watch out for them.  But anyway?  Glad to be back!  Here's my story:  "Nanny'"  I hope that you enjoy it,

NANNY

By Bea

Many thanks to Rosie in skirts who gave me the basic concept for this story. Thank you luv.

"That was very nice."  Leslie said contentedly after Anne had cleared off most of the table between us and left the room.  She looked out through the window at the grounds.  "Lovely!" she sighed. "I always just love coming here!  So tranquil.  So peaceful!"

I smiled across the table at her.  "Like some coffee now Leslie?  Black if I remember?  I'll pour."

She gazed at me and dabbed her lips with her napkin. "That would be lovely Alan. Thanks."

She settled back as I poured.  I wasn't sure why she'd wanted to speak to me but being the principal lawyer for Muriel's estate I certainly wasn't going to decline.  She was an outspoken feminist and after Muriel's death I must admit that I'd done some prying to discover if there were any way I could replace her.  That hadn't happened.  I knew Muriel always took care of business, but I quickly found out that everything was tied up into Leslie's capable hands.  On top of that? I knew that I was a dilettante at business so soon settled back into a life of idleness and comfort.

"Very nice Alan," Leslie said after taking a sip of coffee. "But I suppose that I'd better get down to business."

"Oh drat!"  I said softly.  "I thought this was just a social call."

She smiled. "I love coming here dear.  But business is business." She opened up a leather brief case and extracted a folder.  Opened it and placed it on the table in front of her.

"You must be well aware that I am a feminist Alan – and I truthfully hope you don't mind.  I can't help but be happy about being the chosen conservator of a large estate when it is one of the most perfect examples of a matriarchy that I have ever seen, and if it shows at times?  You have my apologies in advance."  She took another sip of her coffee, her bright eyes smiling at me.  Looked at the folder again as if to remember what it contained, but I knew that the contents were memorized.

"You weren't poor when you married Muriel."  She continued. "But she was rich. Damned good at staying that way too.  Quite frankly dear?  She simply swallowed your estate and made it part of hers."  She looked at me with a quiet challenge in her eyes.

I felt uneasy.  Shrugged.  "I didn't mind.  Muriel was much more attuned to that sort of thing than I was."

She smiled.  "Yes.  She was, wasn't she?  But although her wishes were firmly established there are certain things that she wanted done for Angela her daughter that you should now approve.  I know that she's Muriel's daughter by a previous marriage, but her biological father just got killed – so you are now, without contest, Angela's ward.  At her age, she can't be expected to make decisions for herself."

I laughed. "Angela can take care of Angela I think.  Muriel made a point of educating her here at home and,"  I laughed again, "She's a chip off the old block. Very strong willed and smart from what I can see."

Leslie laughed with me. "That's been the problem.  It's taken me a little while to contact Miss Grimsby as she's been away on vacation – but she was Muriel's chosen nanny for Angela.  I've contacted her and she was free to accept our very generous terms."

"So, why ask me?" I said a little huffily. "Seems that I'm nowhere in this transaction.:

A small, evil, smile played over Leslie's mouth. "What you say is, unfortunately, true.  But it follows Muriel's stated wishes – and trust me.  It's practically unbreakable.  I'm here to tell you though that you are the only person in the world who could create problems in this regard – California law with regard to minors being what it is.  Muriel DID foresee something like this taking place though.  I don't quite know how to say this Alan – but it boils down to this.  You have a very comfortable lifestyle here  and she has  set you for life.  But there are two things that could jar your relationship with the estate – and I don't think you'd find reaction to behavior like that pleasant.  To be blunt?  I think that you'd find yourself impoverished."

I found myself drawing back at this barely concealed threat.  Leslie took another sip of coffee, her eyes fixed on me.

"The things are?"  I managed weakly to fill the silence.

"First, you will sign this paper here offering Miss Grimsby the position as Nanny to Angela.  Trust me.  It is ironclad. Once you sign it Miss Grimsby becomes a member of this household that you can NOT fire.  The cost of getting rid of her is prohibitive."

I shrugged my shoulders. "You had me worried there for a minute Leslie.  I'm not going to give you any problems with signing that.  You know I never interfered with Muriel's edicts.  Why should I start now? Can I have that paper and I'll sign it."

She smiled at me and slid the paper and a pen over.  I started to sign it.

"Aren't you going to read it?" She asked softly.

"Why?"  I asked, signing it and passing it over.

"Why not indeed?" she said, taking it and putting it in the folder.  Then she smiled at me. "As always Alan, you make life for me much easier than I thought. Miss Grimsby should be here very soon.  Maybe tomorrow."

I shrugged.  "I'll have Anne get a nice room ready for her."

"Wonderful.  Just do make it close to Angela's suite.  They should be close physically."

I nodded, then the thought struck me. "Leslie?  You said there were two things?"

She laughed and hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Old age!  It'll be the death of me yet!"  She then proceeded to tell me what the second thing was – and the consequences of me fighting it.  The look of enjoyment on her face grew as she went further into the explanation and my blood got colder. 

Finally I spoke. "Am I understanding this Leslie? Shortly, when Angela becomes ten yours old – TEN? She basically becomes in charge of this estate?"

Leslie smiled.  "Yes. As I said before, Muriel was a great believer in the power of a matriarchy and wanted to make sure that Angela would take her place.  She really didn't think that you'd try a power grab."  Here she smiled beatifically at me.  "She knew how peaceful you are, Alan.  Just wanted to make sure that any male influence you wanted would be curtailed.  Wants to make sure that you don't try and control Angela."

"Hmmm!  Sounds more like me being under Angela's control than the other way around," I grumbled.

"Yes.  It does.  Doesn't it?" she smiled.  "Angela couldn't get rid of you but could probably make your life quite unpleasant."

I didn't answer the smile.  Something else was bothering me. "Leslie? You always use lawyer terms – and you said that Muriel KNEW of my peaceful ways."  I blushed a little.  "Even if she told you – wouldn't that be hearsay?"

"It probably has some of these elements in it," she admitted. "But you see – she explains all this in her diaries."  Her evil smile returned.  "All about you as well."

I blushed even more as her words sunk in.  "Could I have those diaries Leslie?"

"No.  Afraid not. Muriel had other uses for them that I can't divulge right now."

She put her empty coffee cup down on the table and got up. Came around the table – and actually patted me on the head – as one would pat a pet.  "You'll be all right dear! You've just lived in a matriarchy for so long that you've forgotten what freedom is like. Now you live in a new matriarchy – just one with different mistresses. I'm sure you'll settle right in!"  She patted me again.  "SURE of it!  Just continue to be your own sweet peaceful self – and you'll get on with Miss Grimsby just fine!"

Miss Grimsby arrived a few days later and I breathed a sigh of relief. I don't know what I'd been expecting really, but this fresh faced woman was nothing to be scared of.  She WAS big, but I was getting used to this.  The fact that I'm small in stature is something I've got used to over the years – and Muriel had seemed to enjoy the company of big women.  Even to the extent that Ann our maid and Marge the cook were much taller and wider than me.  Miss Grimsby was no exception.  Probably about five ten and weighing about one hundred and sixty pounds she far out sized me.  Not fat by any means, but a vigorous healthy woman.

She settled in very quickly and Angela, who can be a handle, fell in love with her immediately.  As far as I could tell there was nothing warm and cuddly about the new Nanny.  When she spoke to Angela it was with kindness and love – but she expected to be obeyed – and she was.  She was just a servant like Ann and Marge I suppose – but right away they treated her like a superior.  Frankly, I was a little jealous of her.  They'd always been polite enough to me I suppose, but to her they were damn near subservient.  Friendly towards her which was what she seemingly wanted  – but only too willing to be at her beck and call.

Miss Grimsby, Angela, and I ate every night in the dining room. I had a secret objection to eating with a mere child, but she had been brought up to have an adult dinner and, by god, that's what she had.  And it wasn't too bad.  Little by little, I started to enjoy their company.  Even Angela wasn't too bad. She wasn't tiny – more like her mother and large, but I was bigger than her.  Not by much, granted, and her assurance and style always made her seem taller than she was – but she was just a ten year old girl.   I will admit that she'd fix her pale blue, almost colorless, eyes on me through her sandy ;ashes and make a comment or ask a question – and I could feel myself quail – just as I'd done with her mother.

I really don't know when it started that I knew I was no longer boss of the house.  I never had been when Muriel was alive, but after she'd died. Being the adult in charge had sort of left its mark on me.  But some time after Miss Grimsby's arrival, it dawned on me that the servants  doted on her more than me.  They also gave Angela her due – but the real boss was Miss Grimsby – followed by Angela.  Me?  They were polite enough I guess – but I barely counted if at all.  But as if that wasn't bad enough, I realized that Angela and her Nanny felt the same way!  There was nothing obvious of course, but it just seemed to be that if either of them asked me to do something?  It had better get done.

The start of my decline in importance may have begun the day of Leslie's visit – I don't know, it wasn't anything that could be pointed to. But I know that the real decline started one night at dinner.  Miss Grimsby turned to me. "Alan?  I was talking to Angela and know what?"

"What?" I asked pleasantly.

"We both agree that your company would liven her bed time!"

"What do you mean by that, huh?" I said, still smiling. "You girls spend time around nine-thirty settling Angela down to bed.  I can't see that you need a man around."

"On the contrary!" Miss Grimsby said. "She spends far too much of her time amongst women. Having you present would give her more experience of men."

"I don't mean to be presumptuous," I said. "But I don't think I reflect the male personality that is wanted.  I don't have that rough, tough, exterior that you probably want."

Miss Grimsby looked aghast. "But you're wrong Alan! You are much nicer than most men – but that is what I think Angela needs at this stage. A nice man!  A peaceful man! Someone who will show her the softer aspects of masculinity."

There was something insulting here but I couldn't put my finger on it.  I did, however, manage a grin. "I don't think that . ."

"Alan?"  Angela said quietly. "We're simply asking you to join us as something that will help Nanny in easing my approach to adulthood.  Are you refusing?"

Her tone was quiet and non threatening but I looked at those cold pale eyes and figured that there could possibly be a threat there. Suddenly remembered that this little girl might be making decisions on my future within a year or so. Now was no time to get her angry.

"Ha ha!  Of course not!" I replied.  "Anything I can do to help!"

She nodded.  "Good.  Be there after your shower.  Say nine thirty?"  And she turned her head in dismissal!

"I don't normally shower that early!" I said. Talking to the back of her head.

She turned back around to me slowly.  Fixed me with her cold eyes. "So?"

There was a pause before it dawned on me that this was all she was going to say. "No problem!  No problem at all!  I'll be there at nine thirty!" I babbled.

"Looking forward to that," she said slowly and stared at me until I lowered my eyes in shame.  I had just been firmly put in place – by a ten year old girl!  As I said, that point may have been the start of my downfall.

I had this strange feeling of nervousness as I approached Angela's door that night. I had found myself taking extra care with my appearance and I was in fresh pajamas and my paisley patterned silk gown.  Brown leather slippers.  I knocked.

"Come in," said Angela's voice and I found myself swallowing as I let myself into the bedroom.

I had never been there much and not at all since Miss Grimsby came. I did see some differences immediately.  Angela's bed was large and circular canopied overhead – a veritable Hollywood bed!  She reclined I guess you can say in a nest of pillows on top of a pink duvet.  She was in a very adult nightgown for such a young girl – though I said nothing of course.

"Well!  Don't you look nice!" Miss Grimsby said.  Looked at her watch.  "And almost on time too!"

I found myself stammering out an excuse, but she waved me away.

"Don't believe that! She's a bear for punctuality!" Angela said brightly.  "When we say a certain time?  That's what we mean."  Then she looked at her Nanny. "But no inspection?"

"Miss Grimsby laughed.  "Oh Angela!  He's an adult!"

Angela drew herself up. "You tell me that I'M an adult almost.  That's not fair if you don't!"

Miss Grimsby shrugged at me.  "Would you mind showing me your fingernails please?"

"Huh?"

"Please?  Angela wants things kept fair."

And I found myself – like a little kid, presenting myself for Miss Grimsby's inspection.  She didn't fool around either – and I was glad I'd scrubbed my fingernails.  She also checked the back of my neck – and asked if I'd brushed my teeth.  I was blushing and thoroughly chastened  by the time I was allowed to go pick up a chair and move it closer to the bed. The chair was heavy and I was having a bit of a struggle when Miss Grimsby stood beside me.  "Let me," she said gently. Then moved the chair to the desired position with no trouble.  Now I sat and joined the group.

Angela read a fairy story.  She was good and I joined Miss Grimsby in making a small applause.  Then Miss Grimsby read some sort of technical manual about the making of jewelry.  Frankly, it was over my head – but Angela asked some very discerning questions – which impressed me.

Then Miss Grimsby picked a book up from beside her chair. "You're new to our little group here and as Angela just loves historical Romances – I call them bodice-rippers – I thought it a good idea if you start off by reading a chapter each night. It puts her to sleep just nicely and I've started to think that her getting used to a soft male voice putting her into dreamland is a great idea."

"You think that me reading one of those things is good for her?" I asked although lightly.  I certainly wasn't going to start an argument.

"Of course.  Now if you'll just come and sit here to read?"

"Where?"

"On my lap.  That way we'll get started all together – and it strengthens her feelings that males can be non threatening."

"Ha ha!  I'm probably far too heavy for you!"

She stopped smiling.  "Alan?  Please!"

"She sometimes lets ME read from her lap," Angela said, a little jealously as I moved over to Miss Grimsby and settled myself softly down onto the lap underneath me..

"Angela? Please.  He's a newcomer to this group!"  Miss Grimsby said, settling underneath me and enfolding me.

I was immediately embarrassed when I started to read. The protagonist was a sweet young country girl who had been drawn into the gay social life in London.  Her name was Rebecca DeLongchamps – daughter of a Regency scoundrel who had left her alone as the guest of a rich roué. At the beginning, she is preparing for a grand ball – and I start in detail, describing my petticoats and dresses – how my benefactors daughter is having me try different cosmetics and such like.  I manage my way through the first chapter – hoping that I'm finished, but Angela sleepily asks for more – and Miss Grimsby agrees.

Dry mouthed, I start the new chapter – because something has been added to the mix. Miss Grimsby has slid her hand in between my robe and pajamas – and is stroking me softly.  I struggle, but she simply whispers in my ear to behave. I am then, reading a romantic story in which I am the heroine, struggling to keep my virtue, while in actuality soft but strong hands caress me nearer and nearer to climax.

"Please stop Miss Grimsby" I whisper. "Angela may hear!"

"But that's the idea Helen!" she whispers back and giggled a little.  "She may be asleep now but sub consciously, she's hearing a male being seduced.  Now?  Ask me for a kiss!  Just loud enough for her to hear if she's listening."  She stroked me to the point of insanity.

"Please may I have a kiss Miss Grimsby?" I ask finally.

"Not so formal dear.  You can call me Ma'am.  Just like Ann or Marge do."

"Can I have a kiss ma'am?"

As she kissed me forcefully, strong lips on my soft ones.  I came – all over my pajamas and robe.

 We sat there quietly for a time and then she put me aside, sitting on the bed. Then without asking, she stood up simply picked me up in her arms again and carried me to her room made me open the door for her, then carried me into her bed area and laid me down.  "Now dear?  Lay on your back so that you don't mess my sheets. I have a few questions I want to ask you."  She smiled down on me.

"A few questions?"

"Yes.  Did you like what I just did to you? I need to know.  The diary told me that you would – but I've never treated a sissy man before – and I want to treat you right."

She looked HUGE standing above me.  "Diary?" was all I managed though.

"It's probably a shame," she said. "But Muriel picked you with one thought in mind. A nice soft pliable male to help set Angela's mind."

"I'm not THAT pliable," I mumbled defensively.

Nanny shook her head.  "She wasn't into sex with little sissies too much.  That's why she got in the habit of taking you on her knees and wanking you.  I agreed with her method – but I'd never done it before until tonight.  That's why I'm asking. I want you to enjoy it too."

"You've read her diary?" I asked helplessly.

She smiled. "Of COURSE!  Very enjoyable they are too!  Muriel picked me because I feel the same wayas she – but this is the first time I've seen our ideas done practically!  Angela is being trained just right!  Soon I'll take you on my knees in front of her. I want her to see you enjoying yourself as I make you cum.  She's too young to get much out of it – but it's a good start.  Doesn't that make sense?"

"It matters what I think?" I asked bitterly.

She looked at me kindly.  "You're just mad because you're all wet and yucky.  But it makes sense."  She shrugged. "If you're made happy?  Angela learns the value of having a happy little male in tow. I mean, I'm not truly all into that yet – but the diaries point out the value of having a contented sissy under one's thumb.  I can see though that if you're unhappy?  Angela sees me treat you and learns the power a real woman can exert – which is all to the good.  Now?  Answer my question please Helen.  What did you like about being on my knee and what didn't you?"

I looked at her.  "You're all nuts!" I said. "And my name isn't Helen!"

She beamed! "That was my own idea! Muriel says that she used it once or twice – but I thought it might be very good at getting you into the proper frame of mind. After all, I can't really expect you to admit that I'm treating you like a little sissy – then addressing you as if you were a man, can I?  Now – my question please?"

She was nice enough but adamant.

"Very humiliating," I finally said through tight lips.

"Good!  Did you feel like a little child being asked to sit on my knees?"

"Yes."

"And didn't you think that being asked to read the part of a girl – putting on your petticoats and dresses was perfect?"

"Please don't do that again.  It was very embarrassing!" I heard the soft pleading in my voice.

"Silly thing!  It was perfect.  You have that whole book to finish! Now after this.  You're not going to argue when it's your turn, are you?  Going to pick up your book and climb up onto my knees and read in a soft little sissy voice?"  She sat down beside me.  Put a hand on my thigh and smiled down on me. "Would you like to go and get cleaned up now?  Or should I have some more practice on you first?"

With a form of horror, I saw my dressing robe rise at the front.

She patted me and smiled tenderly.  "See?  You liked it!   But after this?  You'll come to our little soirees at night time.  Then you'll climb onto my knee and read.  Okay?"

"Okay," I said without taking too much time as her hand was already moving on my thigh.

She was as good as her word – and I was as good as gold – as she put it. For the following week I appeared every night and went through the shame of being inspected – sometimes along with Angela. The routine didn't change a great deal although sometimes Angela would read from Nanny's lap – but I was always last. Miss Grimsby didn't masturbate me every time but often enough – and I wasn't sure that Angela was completely asleep every time.

On the surface things didn't alter much, but there were two important changes.  First of all was one that was caused by my behavior.  It sounds very weak kneed but I knew that Miss Grimsby was now my superior.  Couldn't help but treat her accordingly. She'd never ask for anything of me of course, but would smile most sweetly and thank me when I did little things for her.  Suddenly, Ann and Marge seemed to subconsciously see that I was now servile to her and welcomed me – as an equal – with acceptance.

The second thing – and I couldn't understand it at first – was that Angela was friendly to me.  For the very first time!  I was glad of this of course – but she made me nervous and I didn't altogether trust her – with good reason as it turned out.  She actually started referring to me as Rebecca – a joke based on my reading of course – but humiliating  given the feminine connotations behind it.  Both laughed as I blushed furiously the first time she did this – which naturally made her do it again.

And gradually I sank lower and lower in the hierarchy of the house.  One time I asked Ann to get something for me. She gave me a maternal grin and spoke softly. "I'm awfully busy just now Alan. You wouldn't mind getting it yourself would you?"

In my lowered status I could only smile weakly. "I guess that would be okay."

Horror of horrors! She actually came over to me and, as I stood transfixed, put an arm around my shoulders. "You're SO nice! Now on your way back, you pass the linen closet in the hall.  Could you bring me the embroidered table cover from it?  I'd appreciate it SO much!"

And the maid thanked me with a big hug when I did her errand for her!

I can't say what had been leading up to that, but it was another point. Somehow the word got around  - and it became commonplace for anyone in the house to ask me to do something for them. The most humiliating came when Leslie visited us again – although this time her business seemed to be more with Miss Grimsby and Angela than me.  We were all in the living area and Ann was serving us. Leslie asked her a question – how was she doing or something like that.  She started to answer, then smiled.  "Oh dear!  There's a plateful of biscuits I meant to bring."  She looked at me.  "Alan? I'm busy with Miss Leslie just now.  Will you go and bring it?"

And all the women stopped what they were doing and stared at me as I sat.  "Leslie smiled gently at me.  "I  hear that you've become most helpful around here? I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.  That would be so nice of you to help Ann while she's talking to me!"

When I returned with the plate of biscuits, Ann was sitting down – still talking to Leslie. Angela looked up and, with a laugh, said.  "These look delicious Rebecca! Can I have one right now?"

And now, somehow, I had been inveigled into walking around the room, passing out biscuits to all the women – doing Ann's job while she actually took a biscuit!  Leslie naturally wanted to know why the term Rebecca had been used – and great merriment ensued as it was described how I'd come by that name – and my great good humor in taking it – while I stood there with a sickly grin on my face the women all shooting amused glances at each other.

With the increased friendship between Angela and myself I found that I was drawn more into her sphere of influence – was wanted to joining her and Miss Grimsby for shopping in the local town – and my opinion most eagerly sought on clothes for her. One time, Miss Grimsby had to go and see Leslie about something (She didn't seem to want me for anything) and I had to take the Nanny's place in the clothes stores – holding dresses up against myself for Angela's perusal. When she first indicated I should do that I tried to say that it wasn't my thing. The cold look I got from her was the first in a long time – but the REBECCA! She used on me quietly?  Clinched it.

In that same shop, she had me hold up a bunch of dresses against myself – more to teach me a lesson in obedience than anything else I think.  Then even the shop girls seemed to be giggling more than usual when I was made to hold up a russet satin evening dress – backless and with a very large bow at the backside – and I finally complained – mildly – again.  "I'm not sure about the color dear.  I don't think it would suit you  – and don't you think it may be too old for you?"

She grinned slightly.  "Me?  I was seeing how it would look on YOU!" I heard a muffled shriek of laughter coming from behind a rack as I blushed a fiery shade of red.

As if things weren't bad enough we seemed to be finished with this last shameful display but then Miss Grimsby appeared having finished with Leslie – and to pay the bill – it seemed that I wasn't to be trusted.

"Alan?" Angela giggled?  "Why don't you get that russet gown and show Nanny how it looks on you?"  Naturally, this appealed to the sales girls and one immediately ran to the rack where it had been put pack and headed for me with it in her arms, smiling at me invitingly.

I felt the insult rise in me. "I don't think so!"  I said coldly – although I did hear a  little tremor in my voice.  As I made this remark Angela looked daggers at me but whispered in Miss Grimsby's ears instead.  That lady sighed deeply and looked at me.  "Alan?  PLEASE? I know it's a lot to ask – but I sense that Miss Angela is getting a little upset with you – and let's face it.  It's not something you haven't done before, is it?"

Her calm reasoning brought me to my senses and I realized that I could have been on the point of making a ghastly error.   Angela smiled beatifically at me as I took the dress from the girl and held it up against myself.

"Walk towards us please?"  Angela suggested – ordered.  Then she added as I minced towards them "Don't you think that's his color Nanny?"

To my everlasting shame, Miss Grimsby took a few steps towards me and felt the material between her fingers.  But then she shook her head.  "I don't think so Angela. He needs something lighter." She looked steadfastly at me as she said it.

"There's a beautiful blue dress?"  Angela said hopefully.

"No dear!" she was told firmly.  "I think you've done enough shopping for one day.  Let's go."

They night, I was on Ma'am knees reading again. It may have been the long day shopping, but Angela was asleep before I'd got more than a few pages read.  Nanny shook me off and, not saying a word, motioned me to follow her – obviously not wanting to awaken Angela.

In her room she sat down, and motioned me to sit on her knees.  I wanted to – but it was so humiliating.  "I left the book back in Angela's room." I said.

"Helen?  Don’t get ME mad at you.  Sit here!"

"But I don't have anything to read," I said haltingly, settling into her arms.

"Silly little goose!  Can't you tell that I'm starting to like it?" She said this, her hand smoothly fitting around my erection.

But as I sighed and settled back she said.  "I wanted to talk to you anyway. Didn't you notice how Angela is growing - today in the store?"

"Can't say I noticed, to tell the truth," I answered honestly.  "She seems like the same size to me."

"I don't mean in physical growth, silly.  Don't you see her turning into the dominatrix we've been training her for?  I know that her mother would be thrilled – and Leslie will go out of her mind when I tell her about it."

"I don't understand," I said dumbly.

Miss Grimsby sighed though her hand continued to stroke me. "When she had you hold up that evening dress. Didn't you feel it then?"

"I just felt embarrassed," I admitted. "But how come you're so pleased?"

"Dear?  You obviously don't understand. When a female dominatrix gets a sissy male on her hands? She often dresses him up in women's clothes.  Angela came SO close to buying that dress for you."  She beamed proudly.  "All on her own too!  She's come SO far SO soon!"

I jerked – am not sure whether it was her hand on my erection or a kind of fear.  "Thank goodness she didn't." I said.  "Would have been an awful waste of money."

"Why a waste?" she paused in her stroking and asked seriously.

"I'll only go so far to placate her.  That's asking too much!  A dress?"

"You're talking nonsense dear. If Miss Angela wants you in a dress, I don't see you fighting her for long. She may want you in undies like panties and bra too, I'd imagine."

I stared at her in pure fear.  "But you don't want that?  Surely ma'am?"

She shrugged.  "It's good training for the young mistress, so I don't have a problem that way.  Also?  I'd bet that you'd feel so nice?"  She stroked me again.  "All soft and satiny under my hand?"

"Please don't!"  I wailed.

"Helen?  Just hush!  Matter of fact?  It might be a good idea for me to talk to Ann,  She's about your size and I'm sure she'll have a nice pair pf pajamas with a matching robe for you to wear tomorrow night,"

"But Miss Grimsby?  I don't . ."

She did something she'd never done before. Turned me over and as I lay there helpless on my tummy, she lifted my robe, pulled down my pajama pants – and gave me a sharp, sore, spank on the rectum!  Then she rearranged my clothes and put me back in my original position. "Honestly Helen?  Here I am, very pleased with Miss Angela's progress – and all you want to do is argue and find fault!  Now say that you're sorry!"

I found myself in the position of looking up at a much stronger female and nearly sobbing my apologies for making her spank me!  Treating ME as one of her charges!

"You going to be a good little sissy?  Do as you're told?" she said in a relenting tone.

"Yes," I said in a small voice.

"That's better.  You see?  This way she'll be much more pleased with you.  Sort of reading her mind before she makes you.  See what I mean?"

The following night after dinner, Ann slowed me down in the hallway. Gave me a grin as she put a hand on my arm. "I  think you'll like the nightwear Miss Grimsby asked me to look out for you.  I never used it but was keeping it for something nice.  She explained that this was all for Miss Angela – and I think it's very nice of you to do that for her."

I gave her a sickly grin and thanked her.

I saw what I was to wear that night, tastefully laid out on my bed, but was scared to touch it.  Maybe hoped that it would go away?  Maybe hoped that my long dormant masculinity would arise and let me find a way out of the ever increasing femininity that seemed to be surrounding, closing in, and enfolding me.

But when I came out of the shower and dried myself I saw a rather large box lying on the bathroom counter that I hadn't noticed before. Curiously, I took the lid off and immediately smelled the strongly perfumed pink powder that was there, even though it was still covered in plastic and had a large fluffy applicator there. I knew immediately what the box was doing there and this was reinforced when I read  the small folded note that lay there:

Marge and I thought you might want to use this as well?  Miss Grimsby thinks it a good idea too! A sort of finishing touch?

Ann

A picture of me in my new pajamas was difficult to imagine – but the thought of me not only in them, but being sent back to my room to powder myself was intolerable – because I knew that I would be made to do it if I didn't use the powder.  Slowly, I removed the plastic and used the applicator to powder myself.  Strangely, it didn't seem so difficult for the effeminate, sweetly smelling, young male to slip into his lacy blue satin pajamas and matching robe a few moments later.  There were velvet slippers in a plastic bag underneath the pajamas on the bed.  I put them on – a trifle large but okay. Then I wafted into the bathroom again, where I put the fine ribbons at my neck into an appropriate bow then brushed my hair.

"My My!  What do we have here?" Miss Grimsby said as she let me into Miss Angela's room.  "Why look here Miss Angela!  Isn't Alan pretty?"

"Alan?" Angela said as she couldn't see me at first. Then she let out a happy squeal. "Alan indeed Nanny!  You mean Rebecca – don't you?"  Then she spoke to me.  "All dressed up for my story tonight?"

"I – I – I  thought you  . .you . . might like this Angela?" I said with a ghastly smile.

"Well?  You did!" she said bossily. "Now come and sit on the bed beside me."

I looked helplessly at Miss Grimsby but she smiled approvingly and nodded.  Actually took me by the hand and led me to the bed.  "Doesn't his negligee float most becomingly?"  she said.  Then she added. "Why don't you get out from under your covers Angela.  I'll let you sit beside him for a little while if you want."

I looked at her with round eyes as Miss Angela squealed in happiness again then came and knelt closely to me.  "He smells SO pretty!" she said happily.  Then to my horror, she placed a small warm hand on my thigh. "Oooh lovely!" she grinned. "And feels so nice too."  Then she added.  "Is this what you do when he sits on your knee Nanny?"  "You are a naughty little girl!"  Miss Grimsby laughed.  "I thought you were asleep when I did that to him.  But yes, that's what I do."

"Please don't Angela?" I said.  "Little girls shouldn't do that!"

She looked confused for a moment. "Is Rebecca right, Nanny?  Is this bad?"

Miss Grimsby thought for a moment.  "It's a little fast for you dear so I have to tell you that it's a little too soon.  But when you're a bigger girl?  Then I suppose that it'll be time for you to learn that if you have a male sissy.  They become VERY obedient.  Like?  You could tell him to behave!  Stop arguing with you!"

"Hear that Rebecca? Be a good little sissy!" Angela said, and her hand spanked my thigh very lightly.

"Wheee!" she giggled.  "He feels funny! Just as if he was a girl!  What do I do now Nanny?"

"No time like the present I guess,"  Miss Grimsby said almost to herself then spoke to Angela. "Ask Rebecca if she belongs to you.  Just make sure that he admits that he belongs to you. After tonight – you'll see.  He will."

Then she simply sat beside me and put one arm around me.

And, now unable to move, I admitted to Angela that I was HER Rebecca as she laughingly whispered in my ear,  and would be most obedient to her in days to come. I cried in embarrassment.

"Sissy Rebecca!"  Angela taunted.

"That's natural Angela,"  Miss Grimsby explained, then she spoke to me. "I always liked Helen myself dear, but it looks as if your new mistress prefers you to be called Rebecca.  You don't have a problem with that – do you?  - Fine!" she said as I nodded.  "Why don't you go and change into something nicer."

I was about to ask what she was talking about when Angela whispered something into her ear.  She looked at me with a smile. "Told you.  Angela IS a fast learner."

"Yes Rebecca!"  Angela smiled.  "Go into my bathroom and take these clothes off.  In the meantime we'll call and see if Ann's got something else nicer for you to wear. Off you go!"  And she waved her hand regally.

For a split second, I must have thought of running and it probably showed on my face. "Don't be silly Rebecca?"  Miss Grimsby said.  "Where are you going to go?  What can you do?  Living here may be embarrassing for a little while because Miss Angela has to practice on dominating males - and you're available.   But you'll be well fed and clothed. So come on now.  Don't be silly."

She was so calm.  So reasonable.  Then she took a hold of my shoulder.  "Don't be getting Angela all upset now.  You don't want that.  Do you?"

I wadded up the pajamas and robe in the bathroom then wore the red lace long nightdress and scarlet peignoir out of there that was provided, blushing furiously.

I would have blushed under any circumstance, but this was different. Both Marge and Ann had joined the other two and now all four were clapping me as I emerged. I was so shy at this treatment that I wanted to go back and hide in the bathroom, but Miss Grimsby must have anticipated my reaction and put as arm around me and presented me to the maid and the cook. "We call him Rebecca now.  Think you can remember that?"

Marge looked at Ann, then at Miss Grimsby. "He never seemed that much of a man – even when Miss Muriel ruled the roost here.  I'd say that Rebecca as a name seems more appropriate somehow – wouldn't you Ann?"

Ann took in my appearance with a grin. "I just hope?" she said to Miss Grimsby. "That he has to clean the pajamas and negligees I've loaned him.  I don't think I'd like to wear them now."

"I think that's very fair? Don't you?" Miss Grimsby asked me. Then she continued.  "You see my dear? As far as I can gather, Leslie told you that you were in a matriarchy here.  Well it now seems that she was correct, doesn't it?"

I found myself plucking at my nightwear nervously.  "Well – yes.  But it's not my fault!"

"Of course it’s not your fault dear!" she said soothingly.  "But you do know what a matriarchy means – don't you?"

"The women are in charge?"

"See?  He's not just a pretty face!" she said to the others. "But Angela's the boss here.  Do you understand that?"

"Yes.  Kinda."

"And she's just a young girl.  Kinda feels strange if there's a man around.  You can understand that, huh?"

"But I don't have anywhere to go – and I've learned to do what she says.  I'm very obedient!" I wailed.

Miss Grimsby took me in her arms and embraced me.  "Exactly! Just like Ann and Marge and me – right?"

"Exactly!" I said softly and reasonably. "She's no reason to be mad at me."

"She's not mad at you – you silly little goose!   She just senses that you want to be happy.  Be one of us!  Now why don't you say a proper hello to Ann and Marge, huh?  Go on now.  Don't be shy!"  She released me and gave me a gentle push towards the two servants.  To my fright they were both smiling at me and holding out their arms in a welcoming gesture.

I didn't know what else to do. With Miss Grimsby and Angela looking on a wafted over to Ann and Marge.  I didn't know what to say, but it was a no brainer as they said.  "Hello Rebecca!" and took me into a communal hug so that I could feel their satin uniforms surround me. "Sit here amongst us!"  Ann said.  "And we'll make you pretty.  Won't that be fun?"

Angela and Miss Grimsby nodded amusedly.

For a little while Angela and her Nanny didn't pay too much attention to us three, just to make the occasional approving noise as my nails were painted, my eyebrows plucked, my ears pierced – and then made up with lots of cosmetics and perfume. Then my hair was put in rollers with a scarf around it.  Finally the servants seemed happy. Meekly, I stood between them as the three of us advanced on Angela.

"Miss Angela?"  They said in unison.  "Meet your new girl, Rebecca." Then they said to me.  "Curtsey to your new mistress Rebecca,  A little respect now!"

And everyone clapped delightedly as from somewhere inside me, I knew exactly what to do, and curtsied Miss Angela deeply.

Miss Grimsby teased me that night in bed, straddling me and playing a little with my rollers as she fitted herself around me.  "You were a little easier than I thought," she admitted.  "But I'm sure you'll make a good girl in the long run."

I was amazed the following morning when she helped me brush out my hair – but allowed me to wash off the makeup and not replenish it.  Of course my hairdo was girlish now – and my eyebrows and gold studs in my ears were on the girlish side.  The remnants of my perfume didn't help much either but I carried a little masculinity with me.  I'll admit to being a little put out when I was given a full serving apron after breakfast by Ann. "You'll have to wash out those pajamas you wore last night" she said.  "And while you're at it, Marge and I have some wash for you."

"Some wash?" I said helplessly.

"That's fair, is it not? She and I do things for you.  Isn't it time you did some things for us? Now put your apron on Rebecca – we don't want you getting your clothes all dirty, do we?"

Miss Grimsby and Angela passed me while I was getting the wash from the laundry.

"Ann and Marge felt I should help them?" I said weakly in explanation, nervously plucking at my white apron.

"Wonderful!"  Miss Grimsby said. "You're really learning the meaning of cooperation.  Isn't he Angela?"

"Maybe so – but these girls always curtsey to you or me when we talk to them.  Why doesn't Rebecca?" Angela answered.

"Well – that DOES make sense, does it not?" Miss Grimsby asked me. "Wouldn't hurt, would it?"

They both nodded as I curtsied, my white apron billowing about me.

But once I had finished with the laundry and a little ironing, I was released.  Then nothing seemed to happen all day.  Miss Grimsby and Angela went shopping, then called to say that they had decided to stay in town for the night and go out with Leslie.  Accordingly, I wouldn't be required.  So I spent the day like – well almost like – a male. It's true that Ann suggested I visit her in the maids lounge – my hair was coming out of its styling and knowing that Miss Angela liked it felt that I might want to get it freshened up?

It was a little strange sitting with the maids watching television as Ann rolled my hair up, but I wasn't made to feel lonely at all.  I discovered that they were very pleasant girls indeed. As a matter of fact they were so nice that I ended up staying for the evening. When I went to leave Ann said.  "Wait a minute Rebecca.  You forgot something this morning."

When I asked her what, she simply smiled and left the room for a minute. When she returned, she had the pajama and robe set – plus the crimson nightdress and peignoir. "These are yours now dear. Wear them in good health." She said, handing them to me.

I took them from her, but then tried to give them back. "But I .. well – I can't – I don't think . ." I stammered.

She smiled. "I can understand you dear – but didn't Miss Angela like you in them?"

"Well – yes.  But it was only for one night.  Just a trial."

"She said that, explicitly, to you?"

"Well – no.  Not exactly.  But I'm sure that  .. "

She pushed me gently on my way, the nightwear still in my hands. "Well – once she does?  We'll see then.  Okay?"

I didn't wear either of the feminine garments that night and went to bed in my male stuff.  In the following morning I suddenly looked at myself.  I had sat down in front of my dressing table mirror and was sleepily taking the rollers and pins from my hair.  The chiffon scarf that had held them in place was lying where I'd placed it on the dressing table, beside some pink plastic rollers that I'd already removed – when suddenly, I saw the rather effete face with the arced eyebrows, the gold studs still in my ears – and the scarlet oval nails that were busy getting my hair ready to brush out and my feminine surrounds.  For a moment, I felt I was looking at a woman.  Then I shook the ridiculous idea away. Angela was simply going through a phase and I was forced by circumstances into going along with her – but it was just for a little while.  Practically over by now with any luck.  I shook my head, sighed and went on carefully arranging my hair.  With a little start of horror I found myself  trying to rearrange a curl!

Angela and Miss Grimsby got home in the late morning.  Angela looked delightful in a pale blue checkered dress in some sort of satin, with a white apron of Broderie Anglais over it and white petticoats under her full skirts. Puffed sleeves. Little white Mary Jane shoes and a large flowing, blue satin ribbon to match her hair.  Her face was glowing and she was decidedly excited.  It seemed that she had got a little jealous of the girls that went to public school – had wanted a uniform – but not the same one every day.  On no!  I couldn't help but smile as she described all of the differing colors she had ended up ordering.  I gave them a hand to carry up a surprising amount of bags and packages. To be quite honest, she didn't notice my hair at first, but was delighted when she found out that I'd had Ann fix it a little the night before.  Actually gave me a quick kiss!

But lunch was due and I had the feeling that Ann and Marge wanted me to give a hand. Not much, you understand – but just to show that we were more friends than anything else now.  As I started to leave, Angela detained me. I'll admit that I was a bit nervous about not helping Ann or Marge – we WERE just at the beginning of a relationship you know as I tried to explain.  Angela smiled angelically – after her name – and said that she and Miss Grimsby had something for me.  She was very excited – and I smiled paternally. She WAS such a sweet little thing you know.  All she needed to get was her own way.  "I’ll tell them both that you can give them a hand later!" she said imperiously.  "Now why don’t you open your gifts?"

Suddenly I was aware that a LOT of the presents piled on the bed were for me and I stated getting a dread feeling as the two women smiled in anticipation as I started to open them – almost fainting as I saw the contents.  Miss Grimsby saw my mortification.  "Angela grew SO tired of being the only one underneath me," she said.

"Huh?" Was all I could manage.

Angela laughed in excitement.  "What do you call Nanny?" she asked me excitedly.

"Why.  Miss Grimsby most of the time, I guess," I answered.

"Well.  I want you to call her Nanny from now on!"

"Nanny?" I said, staring at the blue checkered dress that I was just opening up identical to hers.

"Yes!"  Angela said importantly.  "Nanny is bringing ME up to be a young lady.  Obviously you're far too old to be that.  But I figure that you can keep me company and pick up some of the things you'll need to know if you are to become a young lady.  So I've ordered uniforms for you to match mine. And I'm so glad to see your hair like that.  This way the ribbons will look just fine."

"I can't wear a dresson a daily basis," I said as my last show of masculinity.

"Of course you can Rebecca – now go and put on your uniform!" Nanny said severely.  "Then you and Angela can go downstairs together – hand in hand.  Now please?  I'll help you with your ribbon.  If you want to argue?  I'm sure that Miss Angela could use the practice of spanking naughty girls!"

Angela was a little put out that I had a padded bra under my dress and wanted one too. But Nanny just told her to think. Little girls her age didn't have a bra – and dresses for girls my age had the fronts built to take them – it had to be done for my dresses to look right.  I was made to take some advantage of my age as well – a little more makeup. Nanny wanted me in higher heels but Angela pointed out quite firmly that she didn't like me being taller than her as it was – so Mary Jane's it had to be.

Leslie visited us that afternoon, explaining that she'd been informed of what was going to be done to me.  She was absolutely thrilled and I couldn't understand some of the looks she gave me.  At dinnertime that night she thrilled everyone – well not me exactly – by a suggestion,

"If Rebecca's going to be taught how to be a proper woman?  Wouldn't it be a good idea to give her a job as a maid under Ann and Marge for a few days a week?  That way, she'll be trained in housekeeping – and how to be a personal maid for Angela when she grows up?"  And as Nanny and Angela raved about this idea, she gave me that look again.

EPOLOGUE

It's been a few years now. I've become an apt pupil of Nanny's and she's brought me up to being a young lady.  At the same time, Ann and Marge have been instrumental in teaching me how to run a house.  Sometimes I have to go into town as a guest of Leslie's. There, I'm generally used as a maid at one of her feminist shindigs – then introduced as "A perfect man".

I'm quite happy I suppose, although there is a fly in the ointment.  You see?  Nanny is a wonderful teacher and I'd hate to let her down by acting inappropriately.  Ann and Marge have taught me how to be a delightful personal maid – so that I'm 'loaned' to Leslie on nights when she visits and when I go into town.  It turned out that she has masculine tendencies – and ended up using me as her woman in bed when we're together.

So you see, I have three major responsibilities to fulfill.  Along with Angela, I'm a student of Nanny's.  As a housemaid, my behavior is under that of the other girls. Then I'm a combination of Personal maid and sex object for Leslie.  And I get 'rewarded' for being good if I do all right in these three areas.  I can't help but react to the training I get from Nanny – and very much want to do as she wants.  I'm just not positive that I want any more rewards – I now already have had treatments to completely remove all facial hair – not that I had that much to begin with.  I have permanent makeup lightly etched – lipstick, eyes, and cheeks.  My Adams apple has been shaved a little so that my voice is not masculine in any way now. My implanted breasts feel very 'real' according to Leslie – and I must admit that I've learned to take a certain amount of pride in them.  Actually misbehave by not wearing a bra all the time – they feel so nice rubbing against satin.

But I don't know that I want any more. You see corset training, diet, and special exercises  have given me close to an hourglass figure – but I think I'm due to go into surgery this week for hip augmentation.  And?  I sometimes hear all the women hold out the major surgery as a reward for me – if I keep behaving the way I've been trained to act.  Yet?  It's difficult to ignore Nanny's teachings.

But Nanny senses this I think.  Takes me on her knee and comforts me.  I still like that a lot.

 The end

AND NOW FOR ROSIE'S STUFF - YEAH!

XXXXXXXXXXXXX#34

Jennifer, my secretary, walked into my office and locked the door behind her. With a wanton look on her face she unbuttoned her jacket and started slowly walking towards me. Even though I knew it was inevitable, I still tried to stop it.

“Please stop, Jennifer,” I said from my desk with a weak sounding voice.

“Playing hard to get, Billy?” she said, “You know I don’t like it when you’re naughty.”

“Look, I’m really not in the mood…”

“Not in the mood?” she said, “We’ll soon fix that. Come over here.”

“Jennifer, please,” I begged.

“Come here!” she said commandingly. Knowing there was nothing else I could do, I got off my seat, walked around my desk and faced her.

She put her arms inside my jacket, slid it off my shoulders and threw it to the floor. As she proceeded to open my shirt, I desperately tried to stop her for one last time.

“Please,” I whispered, taking hold of her hands.

Aggravated, she painfully slapped my hands away and, breathing heavily, undid the top button of my shirt.

“What the – ?” Jennifer said as my white lingerie – a lacy camisole and a satin bra underneath – came into her view.

Hurriedly, she pushed my shirt behind my shoulders, effectively tying my hands with it, then unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants, further revealing the panties, lacy suspender belt and nylon stockings I was wearing.

“What’s this?” she demanded to know.

“Amanda made me wear them,” I said, nearly crying.

“Oh?” Jennifer said, mockingly, “She likes that sort of things.”

”No,” I said, “She suspected I was having an affair. She said I’d be less likely to fool around with other women if I wore women’s underwear.”

Jennifer’s throaty laugh shook the office.

“Oh, dear,” she wheezed after she had calmed down somewhat, “That’s the best one so far. She really thinks that you’re the one who goes around seducing me? That because you’re wearing a pretty bra you won’t want to have sex with me? She really thinks that what you want matters at all? Your shirt, pants, shoes – take them off!”

Moments later, I stood before her, trembling in my wife’s lingerie.

“Hand me the phone,” she said.

As I recognized my wife’s phone number that was being dialed, tears began to trickle down my cheeks.

“Amanda?” my secretary said, “Hello, this is Jennifer. Oh, is that so? Well, I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I believe we need your help. You see… Well, let me put it like that – guess who I’ve got standing here beside me wearing the lingerie set your husband had me buy for you for your anniversary. Don’t worry, I’m not offended by seeing you pass it on to someone else, I’m calling for another reason. You see, it’s kind of chilly here in the office, and I wouldn’t want the poor dear to catch a cold. You think you could swing by with a dress or such? Really? Oh, that would be just great. Thanks, nice talking to you too.”

She put the phone down and left the office. Moments later, she came back with her handbag and sat down on a chair.

“Over here, Billy,” she said, patting her lap. Obediently, I walked over to her and sat down across her thighs.

She took out her lipstick, opened the tube, screwed it until the bright red tip protruded from the housing.

“Pout your lips now, honey,” she said, “Your wife will be here any minute. Gotta look pretty for her.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX#35

Having put on the clothes Samantha had left on the bed, I walked out of the room to face Alison. I was worried, but on the other hand confident that Alison would, as she had so many times before, find a solution to alleviate the troubles Samantha was putting me through.

“I can’t go out like that,” I almost cried when I faced her, spreading out my arms to demonstrate the femininity of the blouse I had to put on. Not only it was distinctly feminine, with billowing sleeves flowing down to the pear-button cuffs, but the silky fabric it was made of was translucent enough to afford a clear view of the lacy lingerie I was wearing underneath.

Alison sighed and shook her head.

“Can’t you help me?” I begged, with a weak, almost girlish voice.

“She did leave you a jacket, I think,” she said, “Two in fact.”

A wave of relief flushed over me – a jacket was just what I needed to hide the women’s clothes I was wearing and except between us three, I would still retain my male status for another day.

“Two jackets, in fact,” Alison continued, “A black one and a lime green one.”

“I think I’ll take the black one,” I said.

“Let me at least show you the green one first,” she said, “I think you’ll like it better.”

Without waiting for my response, she went to her own room and came back holding a jacket made of lime green grosgrain.

I realized that the groan I made in response was a mistake as her face darkened considerably.

“Look, I know it’s all light and shiny as you’re going to say,” she said, with a lot less patience in her voice, “But it’s not even tailored and it may be even long enough to cover the top of your pants.”

Without thinking, I reached to feel top button and zipper of my back zipping, white pants. Even though the jacket would take care of that, as well as my frilly blouse, it seemed that it would merely replace one problem with another rather than solve it. Not only could it hardly be taken for a piece of even the most extravagant men’s wardrobe, it’s light color automatically attracted attention to itself and thus the wearer – something I wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Thanks, Alison, but I’d really prefer the black one,” I said.

“Suit yourself,” she said, turned on her heel and stomped off to her room again.

“Put this on,” she said, throwing me a black woolen garment.

The feel of the material was a bit softer and fuzzier one would expect from a men’s jacket, but the plain black color soothed me and I placated myself with the thought that no one would bother looking up close. However, my satisfaction was short lived. As soon as I began putting the jacket on, I realized that not only that the sleeves were more than slightly cupped at the shoulders, they were also short. The wide, gauzy sleeves of my feminine blouse were fully exposed! With the jacket failing at its most important function – hiding the clothes underneath it, I hardly bothered to notice how it neatly fitted my corseted waist, pronouncing the hourglass figure.

“I think I’ll take the green one after all,” I almost whispered.

Alison drew a deep breath and shot me a look that made me cringe with fear. I’d never seen her like that. But, with lips almost white, she managed a calm response.

“I though you said you didn’t like it,” she all but hissed.

“But, Alison, please,” I pleaded, “I can’t go out like that.”

“Well the offer’s no longer on the table,” she said – was that a mean streak I detected in her voice? – “Either wear the black one or don’t wear a jacket at all.”

“Or,” she continued with a kinder tone, “You can always put on a skirt, some makeup, and no one will guess you’re a guy.”

“But… but…” I began.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” she erupted with a force that I would hardly expect from Samantha, let alone from her, as she was always the kinder of the two. Every time Samantha had pushed my feminization further, I could count on Alison to help me push back, find loopholes in Samantha’s orders to help me remain looking like a man.

“It’s over, Jeremy, can’t you get it through your thick head?” she yelled, “Look at you! How can you possibly think you can still go on looking like a man when you’re asking me for a goddamn ladies’ jacket to cover what – a ladies’ blouse? Even if you wore a men’s jacket, you’re still wearing women’s pants. I mean just look at them – the legs end like blouse sleeves, with buttons and all, for crying out loud. How can you possibly think that anyone in their right mind would think these are men’s pants?”

I looked down to my feet. What she had just said made perfect sense. The cuff-like legs of my pants were anything but men’s, not even unisex, and even though they didn’t end much above my ankles, between them and my ladies’ flat heeled loafers, enough of my shiny nylon hose was exposed not to be non-notable.

“I’ve tried to help you as long as I could,” she continued, again in her calm, even kind voice, “But didn’t I tell you at the beginning I can only help you so much if you don’t stand up to Samantha yourself. I don’t know how much you really tried fighting her, but it’s clear she’s the stronger one between you two. I mean, she’ll get what she wants, can’t you see?”

In all honesty, I never really tried to fight my wife. If Alison wasn’t there to help me, I probably would have tried standing up to Samantha, but as Alison had said, she was stronger than me.

“I know it must be hard for you to accept, Jeremy, but it’s over,” Alison said, “She’s won. Maybe not this very moment, but she will, soon. Now you can either give in to what she wants from you, or you can go on pretending you’re still a man for the whatever little time you have left. But please don’t tell me you even dare to hope you can stand up to her now. It’s too late, I can’t help you any more with that. If she wants you to be her wife, then a wife you’ll be. You have to see you can’t do anything about that. All you can do is save yourself a great deal of embarrassment.”

Subconsciously, I suppose, I must have known it would come to that. That was why, probably, the emotion I felt was not a shock, not pain from the final blow to my male ego, but relief, even happiness that the charade I had desperately pushed to its very limit could now end. I walked back to the bedroom, unbuttoning my pants even as I walked. The fact that I only had to take off my pants and my shoes in order to shed the ineffective illusion of being a man was my final proof how ridiculous my efforts to remain looking like a man had become.

I reappeared before Alison wearing a black knee length skirt made of satin with a chiffon overlay and a pair of black pumps with a three inch heel. I decided to keep the jacket as a sign of my recognition of the irony that a garment that was supposed to help me look like a man would work so well as a part of my feminine outfit.

“You look cute,” Alison said, “The heels really show off your legs.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, “But I don’t know what to do with the makeup.”

“Don’t worry,” she laughed, “That’s something I can really help you with.”