Taking the pink satin smock from its hanger, Carolyn directed the now petticoated boy to raise his arms carefully. Watchful of his makeup and new hairdo, the women lowered the beautiful garment over his head and outstretched arms. They fussed and primped, tugging it down gently until it settled over the fluffy petticoats. After fastening the row of buttons up the back, the maid removed a long sash from the hanger and wrapped it around the boy’s waist, forming a large bow in the rear, giving the dress an almost bustle like appearance. The anticipation was excruciating, but when the two women at last spun the boy to face his reflection, he almost fainted in wonder.
Looking back from the mirror was no teenage boy in a dress. Instead was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. His eyes moved from her delicately painted face, down over the bodice of her lace and ribbon trimmed dress, lower to where her legs seemed to escape from a bouffant cloud of frothy skirts, and finally down to the tiny pink bows which decorated her girlish slippers. Christopher, now Christine, seemed lost in a trance.
“How was this possible?” he thought to himself. As he turned to see the reflection from another angle, it hit him. As the layers of taffeta swished about his nylon-covered legs, there was no mistake. This was no dreamlike image – this was him! He could have remained before the mirror for hours had the two women not awakened him from his reverie.
“It’s almost 10:30; if we’re going, we’d better get along,” warned Mary.
“Ooops, I almost forgot,” exclaimed Carolyn, rushing to the closet once more. After briefly searching, she turned with a small white patent leather clutch and a pair of white glace gloves in her hands. “We can’t have you going and forgetting your purse, now can we Christine?” she grinned. The gloves, though snug, fit over his hands, ending just above the wrist in a ruffled lace cuff.
“Now, come along, sweetheart,” said Mary, trying to rush things along. With one last look in the mirror, the boy…er..the girl raised a gloved hand and lightly patted a stray curl back into place, then turning, was led from the room. With the two women, one on either side, he was led down the wide stairwell. Each held one of Christine’s gloved hands to steady the boy as he maneuvered slowly down the stairs, still a bit unsure of himself in the low heels. With every step, his frothy petticoats made a delightful frou-frou as they bounced and tickled his nylon-sheathed thighs. Once again, the youngster could feel the excitement build within the silky confines of his lace-trimmed panties. Embarrassed by his own reaction to the soft touch of his exquisitely girlish attire, he tried to think of something else, but even the smallest movement seemed to defeat him and hold his mind captive to intoxicating caress of his borrowed frillies.
Being November, there was an autumn chill in the air, and as they stood in the entrance hall, Carolyn went to fetch her mistress’ sable coat.
“You’d better find something for our little girl, too,” Mary instructed.
The maid quickly returned with a beautiful pink woolen double breasted coat. Carefully she slipped it over the lovely dress and fastened the front. Lastly, Carolyn took a hatbox from the upper shelf and opening it, took out a wide brimmed straw skimmer.
“Hold your head up, dear,” she asked as she tied a fancy bow under Christine’s chin. “There now, you look just adorable, Honey,” she said, her hand straightening the flared skirt of the coat. Bending, she gave the boy a little kiss on the cheek and opened the front door.
“Come along, sweetheart,” beamed Mary, taking the delicately dressed boy’s hand and, with his skirts bobbing, walked together to the car.
Looking back as they drove down the avenue, he could see Carolyn smiling and waving. Just yesterday, he had sat in the same seat, but now, everything was so different. Instead of jeans, his legs were now sheathed in smooth white stockings, and despite the weight of the woolen coat, the multi-layered petticoat made his skirt puff up all around him. He felt he was sitting on a cushion of frills, his ornately trimmed panties only adding to the froth of his skirts. Folding his gloved hands on his lap, he looked over to Mary, who smiled down at him.
“Don’t look so nervous, dear. No one is going to recognize you now.”
