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New TG: Letter mailed by Vickie Tern 2/3 femdom Fm mm


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She came over and stood over me.  Gradually I remembered.  Kate. 
She'd found out I was into humiliation fantasies, loss of
masculinity and so on, caught me reading files in Sissify.Com.  And
she'd taken over, she owned me.  I stared up at her, still unable
to find words to speak.  The weekend was over?  That must have been
some scene, I thought!  Where was I while we played it out?  Then
I remembered that talk about tranquilizers, and sedatives, and not
feeling sore.

"Ah, I see you're with us again.  Lie still a little longer. 
Remember, you're mine now, and you are not to put anything of mine
at risk.  I want you to discover how I own you all by yourself, and
when you do I want you to just lie there and do nothing but think
about what it means.  You pledged yourself to me, remember."

I lifted my arms to inspect them, and finding nothing, reached down
toward my crotch.   

"No, there are no tattoos, and nothing fastened down there either. 
And no body parts missing.  And nothing buckled or embossed or
inscribed or punctured or pierced.  What you're wearing is
implanted, its now part of you.  What I want for you.  In time they
will become what you want.  Understood?"

I nodded.
                                                                  
She left, closing the door gently.  I lay there for a moment to
gather more of my wits.  Then I rolled over to climb out of bed.

I saw I was wearing one of her frilly nighties with puffed out
sleeves.  She had a few, though mostly she wore oversized T-Shirts
to bed.  My own PJ's were all in the wash?  This nightgown was left
over from some feminization game we'd played while I was zonked, I
guessed.  My arms were hairless, absolutely smooth!  My legs felt
that way too!  Well, I hoped she'd enjoyed the game!  I felt sorry
it was probably over.

Still leaning on one elbow and raised up, I felt a sort of pulling
on my torso, as if something were hanging from me.  A fold of the
nightgown?  No.  Flesh that had been spread out across my chest
while I lay on my back was now hanging down heavily from me in the
form of two heavy pouches tipped with nipples, the nipples
distended and brushing against the bed.  Breasts.  They were
breasts.

My breasts!  Large ones!  Two of them!  I stared unbelieving and
abruptly put my legs over the side of the bed and sat up.  Then I
just sat there!  With my shoulders slumped forward they sagged,
though my skin was just firm enough to support them.  Through the
neckline of Kate's nightgown I could see their curves -- they were
soft, hanging breasts!  I pulled my shoulders back, and they became
ripe, rounded globes jutting away from me, their areolas and
nipples like small brown teacups projecting outward.  I reached to
heft one. Heavy!  My fingers touched one of my nipples and a
delicious tingle shot through me, spreading down to my crotch.  I
touched the other nipple.  The same!  O God, it felt so good!  But
I was a man!  These were a woman's breasts!  This wasn't one of my
fantasies!  Maybe one of Kate's, but not mine!  Well yes, having
breasts had been one of my fantasies, but not in reality!  Kate
wasn't playing just for the weekend!  Had she tried to warn me of
that? 

She had!  These were these the badges of my servitude.  Kate meant
to disintegrate my manhood, to really change me into a female.  So
it seemed.  She'd said as much, I vaguely recalled.  And I'd been
so eager to submit to her!  Now, by daylight it didn't seem to be
as good an idea.  I glanced down further, and felt momentarily
reassured that my cock and balls were still there.  

I picked up a breast in each hand and then dropped them.  They each
jounced once, then hung there.  Implants.  Huge.  Part of me.  They
were there all right.  But they weren't mine.  I was theirs.  And
they belonged to Kate.  She wanted me to take care of them for her. 
I held each in my hands again, gently this time, and stroked their
nipples again with my thumbs.  The most delectable feeling rose up
in my groin, deep, sultry, luscious, as erotic as if my penis were
being squeezed and stroked.  Yet it stayed soft.  I just sat there
and caressed my new self with my thumbs.  It felt good!

                          ii.



After a while, not quite as shaken as when I first sat up, I looked
across the room.  There on a chair within easy reach was a luminous
blue satin dressing gown, a brighter shade than Kate usually wore,
and a large, heavy-duty bra.  Then as if to make up for the
utilitarian massiveness of the bra, a teeny pair of delicate rose
lace hi-leg panties.  And a note.  

I sat back on the bed and opened the note.  Kate was going all out
-- the paper was perfumed, that floral scent I remembered from
before she went to work at the clinic, that she still wore when we
went out somewhere fancy.  I breathed it in and opened the note,
and read:

                                 *  *  *

"My Darling Annie, or if it's Andy reading this, my poor bewildered
Andy.  First, I want to remind you, whichever you are, that you are
*mine*, not your own person.  You pledged yourself to me knowing
that I intended to do things you might not like, however deeply a
desire for some them might be implanted in your psyche.  I think
you know now what I intend.  I intend to make a woman of you.  A
real one, not a simpering transvestite concoction of one, which is
probably all you'd have managed to make of yourself without me, and
not a Drag Queen either.  But also, not the kind of woman you'd be
if you'd been born a girl and raised in the same circumstances
you've enjoyed as a boy, not a restrained, educated professional
woman.  Not even a woman like me, more venturesome than you are,
more of a take-charge kind of person.  No, someone different.

"Brace yourself, darling.  I want you to become my kind of woman,
the kind I'd love to spend time with, and go out with, and make
love with.  And date men with.  The kind I find exciting, as you've
never been as a man.  Impulsive.  Playful, even silly at times. 
Instinctive and generous, warm hearted.  Physical in many ways,
most of them feminine -- tender and demonstrative when you feel
affectionate, which will be often, and sexy when you feel a
yearning for that kind of pleasure, also often.  Not too inhibited. 
In fact, a little smutty in pursuit of your pleasures.  The kind of
girl men are happy to find they've been fixed up with on a blind
date, because attractive at first glance.  The kind men remember
the next day with smiles on their faces.  And don't be shocked
dear.  The kind of girl women can remember the next day with
smiles.  The kind I've always wanted to remember with smiles.  

"If that isn't you now, and I know it isn't, that's what will be
you.  You are mine.  I've always wanted that kind of girlfriend, so
that's the kind of girl you will become.  You'll try with all your
heart, soul, and might to become that girl.  I know you will.  You
have no other future.

"When you've succeeded, when you like being that kind of girl, then
you can be my friend as well as my servant, and we can enjoy that
relationship too.  You are already married to me, as you know.  I
may then be willing to marry you.  But only then.  We'll see.

"Love,
Ms. Katherine

P.S.  You see in front of you the first intimate wear of the kind
you will wear for the rest of your life, your first bra and
panties.  Congratulations, sweetheart.  Also a rather lively gown,
the kind Annie will soon love to wear as the truest expression of
her own lively nature.  I'm sorry the bra looks something like a
washer woman's, but your breasts, your pledge of servitude to me,
need that kind of support right now.  I've tried to make up for it
by giving you panties a whore might blush to wear.  Put them all
on, and splash some of my cologne on too, and some matching scuffs
from my closet.  While you wait for me to return I want you to
begin browsing through some of the women's magazines I've
accumulated downstairs, ads and all.  They're your kind of
magazines now.  They're the sole occupation of your mind from now
on."  
                        *   *   *

With my nightie off I saw Kate was true to her word, the only
fringe of hair anywhere on my body was neatly trimmed around my
pubes -- the rest was smooth.  I dressed as Ms. Katherine ordered. 
The bra felt heavy on my shoulders until I realized the weight was
in my hanging tits, eased when I remembered to stand up very
straight.  But then they protruded out, way too far forward.  I
doubted even a loose sports jackets would cover them, much less a
tailored suit jacket.  How would I go to work?  With a weight on my
shoulders, or else with a lot of explaining.  The panties were
indeed teeny, designed to curve below the curve of my belly and
across the curves of my buns.  I didn't have a woman's sexily
rounded buns yet, but I knew I'd get them, if not by hormones then
by more implants.  Kate would see to it.  

I inspected myself in the mirror, and I saw a man with straight
long hair -- that's how I liked it -- wearing a large bra and
skimpy scanties.  Boobs nicely proportioned for his shoulders,
which were a little large.  The breasts would swell up even more
when the hormones got hold of them, I realized, no doubt as part of
Kate's plan for me to look like a sex pot at anyone's first glance. 
Waist a bit thick -- I should diet.  Then I realized that was a
girl's thought, Kate's scheme was getting to me.  Hips narrow, but
that's true of some women, I knew.  Big bulge in my panties so far,
thank God!  Could I become the kind of girl Kate wanted?  Possibly,
with diet and the right makeup and gear. And the right temperament. 
It could be fun.  My face was small-featured, and I had an
unassertive chin I'd always regretted.  Now I could see it was a
dainty chin.  Or might become one.  Did I want to become Kate's
kind of girl?  Did I have a choice?

I wriggled my hips at the apparition in the mirror, and immediately
felt silly, even indecent.  So I took a full-figured blouse and a
wide skirt out of Kate's closet almost without looking at them, and
I put them on.  The bottom of the skirt brushed my calves
delicately.  The blouse was short sleeved and nylon or something,
so when I put the satin dressing gown on over it I felt incredibly
slippy all over, like wearing liquid.  With another glance in the
mirror I saw that its bright iridescent blue seemed to light up the
room.  That's me, life of the party, I thought ruefully, and went
down to the living room.  

There I picked up a copy of "Cosmopolitan."  I noticed immediately
that my breasts were already larger than on most of the women
photographed in that magazine, even the "Cosmo" girl.  I started
reading an article on how to keep *him* interested in asking you
out again.  Some of the advice was excellent -- ask him to tell you
about himself, and admire anything you can that he's accomplished
-- I wished girls would do that for me.  I wished girls had done
that for me.  I realized that I was expected to do that, now.  But
a pang of panic struck my midriff!  With guys?  No, I wouldn't!  I
was Kate's!

Some of the advice was practical -- "If he seems excited to be with
you, help him sustain that level of excitement by caressing him in
sensitive areas.  You can find out quickly enough if he's sized to
your needs.  And being kissed by a smooth, wet, deep mouth is sure
to please him!"  

Now I shuddered.  To kiss a man?  Did Kate mean that?  Before this
was over did she want me satisfying men with hand jobs?  Worse,
with blow jobs?  Real ones on real men, not idle fantasies? 
Swallowing real cum?  "Smutty" was what my Mistress wanted, and
she'd see to it that's what she made me!  Even more, would I as a
woman need to let men -- I tried to imagine it and couldn't, and
felt a little queasy -- enter me?  

And pump me?  And cum in me?  Deep inside me?  Oh my God!  

That was as much as I could take.  There had to be a way out of
this!  This was only a game, a scene we were playing, and I was
taking it too seriously!  Then I realized I had no safe word.  Kate
had started me off with the injected hormones and breast implants
so the road back would be harder than the path of least resistance,
so I'd go with whatever she wanted, like it or not, and learn to
like it.  I was already part way where she wanted me.  Dressed like
a courtesan and reading up on how to get laid.

I decided to read the ads instead of all the distressing
no-brainers on "How to Get Real Hunky Men to Fuck You Senseless" 
There were hundreds of ads for make-up!  Eye liner and shadow and
pencil and mascara in varying shades were individually mysterious,
and as I realized when I studied page after page of superbly
blended eyes on gorgeous models, how those powders and brushes and
pencils could create the mysterious seductiveness of those eyes was
beyond any male comprehension.  I'd never learn how to use them! 
Still, I had to please Kate until I could persuade her somehow to
give up her plan for me but marry me anyhow -- my only apparent way
out.  Applied Lipstick looked like a course I could teach myself. 
I read an article on the new shades, and figured out the uses of
lip liners and upper-lip shaping, went back to our bedroom, and
applied a dark maroon to my mouth.  That would show Kate that I was
trying.  

Now a glance into the mirror revealed a man in a bright blue satin
gown wearing lipstick.  Neatly, though.  I went down again and read
on, wondering why I wasn't getting increasingly resentful.  Was I
really a wimp?  Look what she had done to me!  Did I really want
it?  I suspected there were more tranquilizers in me than I knew.

A few hours later Kate returned.  I was back at the computer when
she arrived, originally to get some more advice from Sissify.Com
about make-up and how to cope with my new situation,  but now
looking at different e-mailed reactions to the report I'd turned
in.  I saw I had to go into the office to talk to some associates. 

"Looking for some new games to play, Annie?" she said when she saw
me staring at the screen.  "Remember you're my plaything now, and
I make up all our games.  Any time you forget that, just fold your
arms across your chest to remind yourself."

"No, this is business," I said a little morosely.  "I have to talk
to some people downtown.  Tomorrow."  I turned around and stared at
her.  I was now in no mood to play, but realized that for a servant
I had spoken out of line.  "Ms. Katherine, Ma'am?"  There was a
faint edge of sarcasm in my voice.  "Do I have to kowtow to you all
the time from now on?  Can't we just talk?"

She didn't seem to mind my asking.  "Any time there are other
people present, certainly we can just talk, Andy honey.  Then we'll
talk the way we've always talked.  Of course you'll always agree
with everything I say, and I look forward to hearing the reasons
you'll give for agreeing with some of my the things I'll say.   
I'll say some outrageous things sometimes, just to keep you in
line.  At first you'll agree with me any way you can, but when
you've become the woman I want, I'm sure you'll agree with me
sincerely."   

"When nobody's around it'll always be different.  I'll expect you
to remember your place and my place, and to address me
appropriately.  This is a process, a journey, and we're only just
beginning.  When you finally arrive where I mean to take you, when
you're the kind of girl I want you to be, then maybe we'll talk as
equals sometimes.  I expect that by then you'll be so pleased with
yourself you'll want to thank me.  Are you resenting me a little
right now?"

I hesitated.  "Yes, Ms. Katherine" was all I said.

She stared at me a moment.  "I appreciate your honesty.  And also
your effort to please me by wearing lipstick.  You did a good job
there for your first time.  The shade's a bit too maroon for the
color of your robe, but you'll learn about things like that."  She
smiled.  "That's the favorite shade of a girl I went with my last
year in college.  I loved seeing her lips that color while they
tugged on my nipples and nibbled on my clit.  I'll love seeing
yours there too.  If you really like it, we'll build your outfits
around it, honey.  It's still fashionable."   

Kate a Lesbian when she was in college?  No, probably experimental,
bisexual.  And now me too?

Then Kate commented further.  "That's a pretty blouse you picked
out, even though I didn't ask you to.  I'm glad you like it.  It's
yours now, and I think that's what you'll wear when you go to your
office tomorrow for your meetings.  Just a touch of lace on the
collar ends, and it billows beautifully, so no one has to know
about your new breasts.  They're a 'C' cup now, incidentally.  Your
hormones will soon make you at least one size large still, really
a knockout, though of course we don't want to overdo anything."   


She waited.  "Yes, Ms. Katherine," I replied.  What else was there
to say?  The humiliations were beginning?  She was punishing me for
my lack of enthusiasm earlier that I was being turned into her slut
girlfriend?  What else she was planning to do to me?

"When you go in for your conference, select a nice gold chain for
a necklace and wear that too, tucked under that collar, so no one
can miss seeing the lace.  I don't care how you explain the blouse
and chain if anyone asks, but I think afterward you'll feel a
little more grateful to me for what I'm doing.  Remember, you
agreed to all of this, wholeheartedly and repeatedly.  And I saw
when we were prepping you for your breast implants that you had
sealed your agreement with an orgasm all on your own!"

I swallowed hard.  "Yes, Ms. Katherine," I said a lot more
sincerely.

She waved her hand to say that gratitude was unnecessary. "Don't
worry about what people think.  If you feel like it, flash your
tits at anyone who mocks you.  They're real conversation-stoppers
already, those breasts, believe me.  Some women would kill for a
figure like the one you're going to have.  Finish up the project
you're on, and then turn in your two-weeks notice, and tell them
you're taking off those two weeks as accrued sick leave.  I need to
change you utterly, Annie, and I can't do that if you're spending
all your days in some cubicle worrying about people who have
nothing better to do than insult you for obeying me."             
                           

"Yes, Ma'am."  

"That's better.  You should know that one more insolent innuendo in
your responses would have sent you to work tomorrow in a skirt too. 
Any questions?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  How will we get by without my salary?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that, Andy honey," she
said.  "Maybe you'll work for me in the Clinic.  We need to make
our records more accessible.  You can do that for us.  Maybe later
on I'll get you to turn tricks -- it would help you develop the
right kind of sluttish personality.  Which reminds me, we need to
make your pretty little head pretty as soon as possible, so you can
begin being a girl in public right away without disgracing either
of us.  Learn by doing!  So day after tomorrow we get you a new
hair style and makeover."

The next day's meetings were arduous, but we got all the
understandings ironed out and concluded that I could fine-tune the
project completely from home in no time.  I thought at first
everyone was pointing fingers at my blouse, but I suspect most
never even noticed.  I suppose they thought I was affecting some
mod style, or a pirate or an 18th century grandee.  

Only Becky Davis, our whiz kid from Sales, commented on it. "Very
pretty blouse, Andy," she said.  "Looks just like one I once had. 
I didn't know you leaned toward my taste in clothes."

I didn't know if that was a compliment or not.  Becky was thin as
a plank and as starved as a model, but she wore her clothes with
great style and panache.  So I looked pleasant and said nothing. 

"It's so full in front you could grow tits in them and no one would
ever know," she added. "Have you thought of doing that?  Have you
found yourself a boyfriend who likes big tits on guys?"  So her
remark *was* intended to be an insult.

I straightened my shoulders and thrust my chest way forward, and my
bra poked unmistakable mounds into the front of the blouse.  Becky
stared!  "I already have grown them," I said.  "You should try it
some time yourself, and get some guy interested in you for once. 
Or some girl!"

It was her turn to say nothing.

When I got home Kate was stretched out on the couch in a robe,
obviously through with her own work for the day.  I changed into
the skirt and medium heels she'd laid out for me, and then told her
about my interchange with Becky.  She was both pleased and amused.

"See, I told you," she said. "Accept yourself for what you are,
right now a man with big boobies, and later a woman with generous
boobies, and no one can reach you.  So what are you?"

"Right now I'm a man with big boobies, Ma'am, and your property."

"That's right.  My sissy girl property.  I'm very pleased that
you're through working downtown.  Those breasts aren't a mere whim,
they're very important, they're your passage into a new life.  I
mean for you to become a passable woman.  It will take time and
effort, on your part especially.  But there will come a moment,
you'll see, when the sissy man disappears in your own mind and the
girl of my dreams replaces him.  That's where I want us to end up. 
When I saw you playing girlie-girlie fantasies at that computer,
lots of things fell into place for me.  You're going to become a
girl very soon.  Now listen closely, Annie.  Do you want to become
a girl as soon as possible?"

"Yes, Ms. Katherine," I said.  I realized that wasn't enough of a
response.  But I wasn't really persuaded.  And I had one serious
reservation.  "Ms. Katherine, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course."

"Ms. Katherine, when I'm a girl, will I still have my...my...male
parts?"  I was afraid to name them, for fear she'd suddenly be
reminded I wasn't already gelded, pick up the phone, and order up
a castration and penectomy to go.

She just smiled. "You poor dear.  That's the last vestige of
masculinity a man reaches for, isn't it.  Well, your female
hormones will soon render them useless, but you can keep them as
long as you want them.  I suspect there will come a time when
you'll prefer a cunt, if only because by then you'll like being
attractive to men, and men adore cunts.  When that happens we'll
have your "male parts" as you call them turned inside out into a
cunt.  It's done all the time these days.  Does that ease your
mind?"

"Yes, Ms. Katherine."

"Learn your girlhood lessons well, and I'll let you masturbate a
little, while that thing still provides you pleasure.  On rare
occasions, when you accomplish something I find impressive, I may
even allow you to masturbate until you cum.  But your main sexual
pleasure from now for a while to come will be from your new nipples
-- caress them all you want, whenever you wish.  It'll help you
appreciate them.  Enjoy your femininity!  And right now, Annie,
it's time for you to enjoy mine.  Here!"

She pulled back her robe, and I saw that she was wearing nothing
underneath.  I saw the furry triangle of her crotch, and her slit.
and her creamy white thighs.  

"I promised you could kiss my naked pussy.  Now you shall.  It's
exactly the same way it was when I brought it home from work a few
days ago, a little sweaty, a little pissy, maybe even a little
lubricated too, because feminizing you excites me.  Is some man's
cum in there too?  You don't know, do you?  Well, you'll just have
to work it out on your own."  She smiled to herself and went on,
"With your tongue.  Come here and lick me now, Annie.  This will be
a regular reward for you whenever I come home, as long as you do
your other work well."

She shifted her hips slightly and dropped one leg to the floor,
then raised the other high onto the back of the couch.  There it
was!  Her pink slit was now perched on the edge of the couch, wide
open.  I fell to my knees and again buried my face in her crotch,
this time slathering my nose into its musky, fermy, sour center,
and I began to lick her.  She tasted slightly acrid, but sweet, and
salty, and fishy, and creamy, and -- she was the woman I had sworn
to serve with all of the manhood in me, and now all of the
femininity too, and I began to lick and suck and tongue and kiss
her more passionately!  Was there a love potion in that twat? 
Really some man's cum?  I didn't know!  It was divine! I loved her! 
My tongue probed way down and became a prehensile snake.  I buried
it in her and started to tongue-fuck her.

Almost immediately she started to moan.  I ran the tip of my tongue
up one edge of her slot and down the other, then up onto her clit,
and again into the center line where there lurked, I knew, a deep
and mysterious hole fit to entertain a small man's five inch prick
or a large man's fist and wrist.  Then I moved back to her clit
again, where I loitered and licked and loitered and labored.  She
moaned louder, and shook, and screamed, then began to make strange
animal sounding growls, and then screamed again.  No woman's cunny
was ever cleaned more thoroughly or enjoyably.

When I lifted my soaked face I felt proud.   "Very good, Annie
honey," she said, still breathing hard.  "I knew it!  You will make
the sweetest girl anyone can imagine.  Next time would you wear
that dark lipstick for me?  Now fix me dinner."

I did that too. It was easy.  I was in love again.  Before I sat
down to eat with her, I tried to make my whole face up like a
woman's, as a gift to my precious, my darling Ms. Katherine.  I
failed, but she looked at it and smiled, and said nothing.  That
night we slept in the same bed, and in the early morning when she
was returning from a visit to the john and the moisture of her piss
was on her like rank dew, I kissed and licked her crotch to yet
another orgasmic spasm.  My own prick was pulsing fit to explode
the whole time, but she wanted me to hold back, she said, so she
could redirect my sexual energy.  Toward who?  Toward what?  I
maintained iron control, and nothing came of it.


                               iii.

My first visit to a beauty salon the next day was a revelation, all
those unguents and mirrors and rollers and comb outs and blow
driers and paints and powders and pills.  I assumed I'd go in my
own clothing so as not to attract attention, but the reverse was
true.  Kate insisted that morning when we left the house that I
should look like the woman I was becoming.

"There will be other women there," she said, "And I don't propose
to look foolish, coming in with an obvious sissy, a man who wants
to be prettied up as a girl!  I'd do that to humiliate you of
course, but you've been a sweet dear so far so there's no need for
it.  You're not perfect, Annie -- you should brew my coffee darker
tomorrow when you bring me my breakfast in bed."

She waited.  "Yes, Ma'am," I said.  

"But I love it that you thought of breakfast in bed for me all by
yourself.  And the Eggs Benedict were a nice touch.  Today you'll
go to your first beauty parlor appointment already looking female,
and we'll see if you can keep up the illusion while you're there
for.  For your own good."

So she had me wear my undies and a dress she picked out that showed
my breasts as distinctly large mounds thrust way forward.  She
showed me it had "darts" sewn in to allow for them, and told me
I'll need to know all about such things from now on.

"Shirt Waists and unfitted tops won't do for you," she said.  "No
understatement.  You're a girl who believes if you've got 'em,
flaunt 'em!"

And she insisted that I wear make-up, but not brazen, just light
liner and mascara, and a pale lipstick.  And that I wear my hair in
a pony-tail gathered on the crown of my head instead of as usual at
the nape.  

"That's enough.  If you move with dainty steps and hold your
shoulders back, you'll pass.  Your beautician will know of course."

When the front door was open and I was about to step outside into
the sunlight, I suddenly felt a deep pit open in my stomach, and I
tried to move my legs -- they were in pantyhose and low heels --
but they wouldn't lift off the floor.

"Is something the matter, Annie?" Kate asked just behind me.

"I'm frightened, Ma'am," was all I could say.

"Big strong mans is frightened to look like an itty bitty girl?"
she mocked.

"No, Ms. Katherine," I said in a small voice.  "I'm not a man, I'm
a sissy, who is trying to be a girl because that's what you want me
to be, and I don't want to look ridiculous.  I'm afraid, yes."

There was silence.  "Tell me again what you are, Annie.  Several
times."

I repeated it.  "I'm a sissy, trying to be a girl."

"Good!  Now out the door, sissy girl.  You're dressed
appropriately.  Be proud of it!"

end 2/3
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM

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