After a few minutes, the change was remarkable. Eye shadow, a bit of mascara, and blush had served to remove any hint of boyishness. I enjoyed being made up as it would remove all traces of boy. I began to grow uncomfortable as my felt my bladder fill up and Carolyn, taking notice asked, “Is there something wrong, sweetheart?” But of course, all that happened was that Sheila pushed me down onto her bad, grabbed my ankles, lifted my legs high in the air over my head and once again spanked my bottom. This didn't help his nerves as she fastened matching ribbons onto his bare thighs a few inches below the lace edging of his panties. She took his hand and threaded a glove of powder blue satin onto his fingers. It buttoned round his wrist with glass buttons, which carried on up his arm: ohhhh! how long it was! The ribbon fastening wrapped over above his elbow, finishing with a press fastening under his blouse sleeve in the shape of a bow with a large blue button in the middle. His other hand was gloved too, and buttoned up to his elbow in the same way. I was going to have to decide what my new dress would be like. I wanted frou-frou (whatever that might be). It sounded so definitely pleasurable.

But I’m closing in now on my own rustling, fruffling, swishing, swooshing, frou-frou dress – and I hope it will be all I’m looking for. And with that I was dismissed – a mere child sent to play with the little girls, with permission to wet his nappy. I held on for another couple of minutes, but realising my situation was hopeless, had no choice but to let go of both my bladder and my pride, and wet my nappy. Aunt Mary interrupted, “Oh, don't worry then Father; I'm sorry we bothered you. I'm sure somehow we'll make do, Happy Thanksgiving.” I remember the first time I tried on tights – and did I get it wrong that time. I rolled one leg up as far as it would go then had to stretch so far to reach the other toe that I could feel the material begin to tear. I stopped, rolled the first leg down a bit then to the second. Gradually I worked the strange feeling material up both legs towards the top. I looked to see how my feet and lower legs glistened as the sheer material flexed and stretched. So beautiful. Then as I stood and pulled the tights upwards, I could feel the whole of my leg enclosed and enveloped in the quite wonderful sensation.

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Eventually, after what seemed like forever, the party came to an end. The Mums gathered up their little girls and ushered them out. Sheila made me give each one a kiss as they left. Cooing in my ear, she brought me to a state of complete distraction, “You have such lovely little breasts, Christine.” Scraping the tip of her fingernails over the now stiffening flesh, she teased, “See how your girlish little nipples stand up?”

True – but I think there’s a real difference for the T group. First of all, there’s the rather obvious difference that for the LGB it is all about, or mostly about, the sex and what they do with their genitals. That’s not the case for the T. I’d prefer not to use the label ‘sexual’ but the rest of the world see the behaviour of the T as sexual, so I have to abide with that. Theirs is the only sexual fetish or sexual behaviour which occurs at least as much outside the confines of the bedroom as inside. And this confuses the well-bred ladies and gentlemen who do not wish to concede that anything outside their expectations can be done in public. Like that Victorian court case ‘you can do anything you wish as long as it doesn’t frighten the ladies or the horses.” Yes, they saw that the leadership claimed to be massively tolerant and so they pushed at that very specific point – and they found that they could push and push and push until the tolerance that the leadership originally planned had been extended far beyond what was expected. And it goes on.”

Lowering her head till her face was reflected in the mirror, framed by the pink ruffles highlighting the shoulders of the dress they had me wear, she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a squeeze. Carolyn said, “Well my darling I can give you a few pointers, you don’t need much really as you are so girly.”

I feel wonderful, standing so close to you... sweetheart," muttered Jason. "Please may I kiss your soft, girlish lips?" He found them so pretty as he drew them over Andrew's knees, up his smooth thighs and under his glossy slip. Another moan of hopelessness came from the boy as Jason made sure the waist elastic of both undergarments was evenly arranged all round his waist, but Andrew was in such arousal that Jason's hand inevitably brushed across the stiffened penis in its panties and slip. If you have never tried this look, I would strongly recommend it. I think all girls do enjoy the ultimate femme thrill. Reactions can be extreme. I have had girls burst into tears and others shake like a leaf. I did look up the dictionary definition – I’m that sort of person – and the first definition was “Frilly; heavily ornamental; fancy; overly elaborate, particularly as regards clothing”; the second was ‘a rustling especially of a woman's skirts’. Clearly, this was what was described in my stories. Serena unhooked his bra and he was naked. "Probably that, yeh," she said in a hurry, and stood up as the manageress turned to them.

I’m not a small girl – but I’m not in the Evans Outsize category either. My problem, as with most men wanting to wear pretty feminine clothes, my problem is I’m not really the right shape. I’m much more of a cylinder than I would like. But you really need to learn what your shape is – the younger you are, the more likely it is that there will be clothes suitable for you. I have solidified into middle-aged circumference aided by sloth and sundry lazinesses. I could lose weight – but it doesn’t seem to happen merely by feeble willpower – and I can’t get as involved on a day-to-day basis as many women manage. So, my shape is currently unfaltering.

Both the women gasped with delight and watched open mouthed as Miss Presswell stood Jason in front of the corseted sissy. I was wondering what she was getting at, but I soon found out. “And as your leotard will go over your tights, you won’t be able to, um, go to the toilet. So I've got a nappy and a pair of plastic panties for you to wear underneath. Don’t worry. No-one will be able to see it through your tights and leotard.”The secret of school panties for sissy-boys," explained Miss Presswell as she supervised Jason drawing Andrew's wet panties down his legs, "is to show him how feminine they make him feel... in his sissy bits and pieces. If he experiences real girlishness inside them, he will grow more girly each time he wears them. Jason..." and she turned her attention to her sissy boy who was threading the wet panties over the client's sandals, "you need to attend to Andrew's penis." But then at supper Sheila asks me what I'm planning to wear to the party. I almost choke. I tell her I'm not going; it’s a party for girls. The soft caress of the silky fabrics on my powdered skin and the way the two women (especially Carolyn) pampered me was so wondrous and I could not help think of the weekend ahead in frillies. Is this one of the Pretty Boy sissies?" asked Brenda. She was clearly over sixty, with perfectly dark hair in a perm and a wide collared coat in avocado wool.