After trying on dozens of dresses, she picked out a red chemise for me
and a black beaded sheath for herself. I also bought red patent D’Arcy
spike-heeled pumps while my mother was off selecting my lingerie. We
took all the boxes back to the hotel and went down to the hotel’s
beauty parlor to have manicures and our hair styled.

How strange it was to sit next to my mother and exchange girl-talk
while being primped for an evening out! Back upstairs we began
changing for dinner and I got my first look at the underthings she had
bought for me. Nestled among the finery was a red satin corset. My
protests fell on deaf ears as the hellish contraption was wrapped
around me and snapped up in front.

I thought the corset was uncomfortable, but bearable. That was until
she began tightening the laces! She had to put her knee in my back to
pull hard enough. At last she tied off the cord as I began to swoon
from the lack of oxygen.

I looked down and saw my breasts cradled in the soft underwired cups.
In the corset it was impossible to slouch, resulting an apparently
proud, thrust-out bosom.

Mom handed me a package of seamed black stockings. As I rolled them up
my legs I noticed they felt different from any I had previously worn.
As she helped me straighten my seams, she explained that they were real
silk. How luxurious they felt!

I tucked my male equipment away, wiggled into a pair of black bikini
panties and stepped into my new heels. I walked over to the mirror. I
looked like a pinup!

I asked my mother why she had dressed me in such provocative undies
when the last thing I wanted to do was attract men? She replied that
she wanted to reward my girlishness by treating me to sexy underwear.

While she got herself ready I slipped on my new chemise and felt a
little more modest. The hem barely covered my stocking tops and the
bias cut suspended the entire front from my out-thrust breasts.

My mother lent me her diamond earrings and choker necklace. I had to
admit we both looked good enough to eat as we minced out the door and
took the elevator up to the restaurant.

As we entered the restaurant several different emotions fought for
control. On one hand I felt uncomfortable being laced into a corset
and balancing in the skyscraper heels, but I also felt proud of my
appearance and the way the hose and heels flattered my legs and the way
the corset and dress presented the rest of me. There was no way to
fight it, the outfit had been carefully designed to attract men.

At regular intervals, though, I would be reminded that I was really a
boy and felt ashamed at my lack of resistance to my feminization and
that I willingly dressed as seductively as I did.

We were seated at our table and my mother must have seen some pangs of
doubt in my face. “Oh, Heather, don’t be concerned- you look just
yummy. Just relax and let the female in you enjoy yourself.”

I tried to follow her advise and simply chatted with my mother as if we
were two girls. I stopped compulsively tugging on my hem and just let
men admire my legs as if I didn’t notice.

“You manage your heels perfectly, dear. Helen and Tracy must have had
you practicing day and night.” I actually blushed at the complement.

There was a particular man who never took his eyes off of us. I
pointed him out to Mom and she nodded. “That’s right, Heather, you’ve
spotted Jim Hanks- one of your father’s private detectives.” Seeing us
both staring at him, he smiled and came over.