The Making Of Emily free porn video

Making of Emily by Emily Ross Prologue I often ask myself how it all started. I was in my first year at university and was living in a hall of residence. My cousin Claire lived in the same town. She was at least five years older than me. I didn't think we had much in common so I hardly ever saw her. One day I bumped into her shopping in town. She said it was her day off and invited me to her flat that afternoon for a cup of tea. It was good to see her and I accepted without hesitation. So after my lectures I went to Claire's. She made a pot of tea, opened a packet of biscuits and we sat down in her living room. She asked me about my studies and how I was getting on. To make conversation, I asked Claire exactly what she did at work. "I run a hair and beauty salon in the town centre, styling hair and doing make-overs, mostly." I hadn't a clue what a make-over was. She explained that she could make even the most plain person attractive. "Do you want me to show you?" she asked. I said yes, not realising that she meant me to be her model. She sat me down on a chair in the living room, put a cape over me, got out some of the tools of the trade and set to work. First she applied foundation, then blusher. This seemed to take ages before she was happy. Then she set to work on my eyes, mascara, eye-liner, eye shadow, the lot. Then she got some cherry red lipstick and did my mouth. She found a dark wig, put it on me and brushed it for a few minutes. Finally she found a necklace and clip-on ear-rings and put them on me. Altogether it must have taken half an hour. At last she was satisfied. "Now for something to wear," she added as she slipped upstairs. Before I knew it, she was back and I was putting on a short velvet dress, tights and high-heeled shoes. "Finally we do some glamour shots," said Claire, picking up a Polaroid camera. Swept away by Claire's enthusiasm and oblivious of the consequences, I allowed Claire to take several photos of me as I posed as if I really was a photographic model. I hated what was happening but I was curious to see what I looked like. I went into the hall to view myself in the mirror. I was shocked by my femininity - my face looked just like a pretty girl. Then Claire helped me remove my clothes, make-up and wig. We chatted for a bit more and then I said to Claire that it was time to go home. I had some work to do. She asked me, "Don't you want to see the photos?" "What photos?" I thought. "You know, the glamour shots I took of you. After the make-over." Claire passed a couple of photos to me. I looked at the pictures of a very pretty girl. Nice legs, a bit flat chested and unmistakably me. For the first time I realised that Claire had some evidence which could be very embarrassing if anyone else saw it. "You won't show them to Mum, will you?" I said handing them back to Claire. "Not if you do something for me." "What?" "Come and stay with me for a week." "Is that all?" I thought. "You are very pretty, Ben," Claire said looking at one of the photos. "You looked so sweet in that dress!" "In that dress? You don't mean for the whole week?" "You are silly, Ben. Of course I mean the whole week." "And if I say no?" "You wouldn't want your Mum to see those photos, would you, Ben?" "That's black-mail." I'd got a semester week coming up in about ten days. It's a bit like half-term. There were no lectures or tutorials, I would just be studying for my exams. I was planning to go to mum for the week. I arranged to stay with Claire instead and wrote to mum to tell here that I needed to stay at uni that week to work in the university library. Part One Sunday Carrying a sports bag containing my overnight things and lots of text books, I took the bus to Claire's flat. I rang the bell with some trepidation. She answered and led me into her spare room. I was thoroughly regretting the bargain she had forced me into and hoped that somehow she might have forgotten it. However if she hadn't I was determined to stick with it so that Mum wouldn't see those compromising photos. As I went into the bedroom she opened the top drawer of the chest of drawers. She took out a pair of plain white ladies' panties with a small lace trim. My heart sank. She hadn't forgotten. Without a word, she handed them to me. I didn't say anything either; I didn't dare. I had to stick with the bargain we had made. "Well, Ben," she said. "Shall we get started?" I went into the bathroom, undressed completely and put the panties on. Returning to my room I found Claire had already taken my sponge bag from my sports bag and placed it on the bedside table. She held out her hands and I silently handed her my watch, jeans, T-shirt, pants, socks and trainers, which she put in the bottom drawer of the chest. Claire looked at me and said smiling, "Come on, Ben, you don't need to be nervous." She looked in the chest of drawers, pulled out a corset, unhooked it, stood behind me and swung it around my waist. She started to fasten it and got it hooked at the top. With much effort as I held my breath, she managed to get the hooks all fastened. My body had become stiff and constrained. I could hardly breathe. I said, "I think you've got the wrong size, Claire. It's awfully tight." "It's supposed to be," Claire replied, "to get the perfect figure? Now let's finish dressing you." Claire took a dress from the wardrobe. I must say it wasn't what I had been expecting. It was pink and white gingham; the sort worn by girls of about eight or ten. Claire held it up to look at it and then passed it to me. I pulled the dress over my head and clumsily did up the big buttons with trembling hands and tied the belt round my slender waist. I smoothed out the dress, which came down to my knees. Then Claire passed me an underskirt, which made the skirt of the dress flair out. Next came a pair of white ankle socks and some simple shoes with a low heel. The dress, socks and shoes all seemed to fit perfectly. From a drawer Claire produced the brunette wig, which she helped me put on. It came down to my shoulders and had a little fringe. Not a word had passed between us and however much I didn't want to do it, I couldn't refuse. I turned round and Claire brushed the wig with firm strokes. I felt awful. "Now let me do your face," Claire said next. I had no choice, of course. It wasn't a question. She fetched some cosmetics and came and sat next to me on the bed. She said I only needed a little make-up. "Now watch carefully how I do this," she said. As before she started with a little foundation, then added some blusher before using a little mascara on to eyes. She then finished by smearing my lips with a little lip gloss. She held out a small mirror for me to examine myself. Like the previous time, I was a little surprised to see how nice my face looked. "You look better already, Ben. That dress is pretty," she said. "Little girls always look nice in pink." I nearly burst into tears but somehow managed to retain my composure. Little girl, indeed? Why was she humiliating me like this? All I needed to make my misery complete would be a couple of toy dolls. I felt ridiculous, humiliated and depressed. Still no-one else would see me and it would only be for a week. I forced myself to look in the full length mirror. Although I noticed my new narrow waist, all I saw was Ben in a little girl's frock. Did I think I looked better? Of course not. The dress might have been all right if I had been an eight year old girl. I had expected to wear something worn by girls my age, like the mini-dress I had worn before but I didn't say anything in case Claire actually got the impression that I wanted to wear one. The only things I would enjoy wearing were my jeans and T-shirt, but I'd made the bargain and had to keep to it. "It's a shame your ears haven't been pierced, Ben," Claire said as she fixed a thin gold necklace around my neck. "Ear-rings always looks nice on a girl." We went downstairs and Claire made me parade up and down and pirouette in the living room. She was lavish in her praise. She told me to sit down on the sofa and showed me how I should cross my legs and arrange the dress. I felt very uncomfortable; the corset dug into my ribs. Claire then said that girls shouldn't have hairs on their legs and I should wax mine. It was no surprise when she offered show me how. Wax my legs? Supposing mum notices? Oh well, I must stick to the bargain. As I sat on the sofa, I hitched up my skirt and underskirt. Claire stuck these strips on my legs and then pulled them off. It hurt like hell. I was again on the verge of tears. Did women always have to put up with this pain? Men were supposed to be the tough ones so I didn't complain. My legs were now completely bald. I prayed that mum wouldn't notice when I got home. The afternoon dragged by very slowly, talking to Claire and reading my books. I felt thoroughly ashamed of myself; I couldn't get used to my clothes; not one minute passed without me remembering that I was wearing a dress! I didn't dare scratch my face in case I ruined my make-up. On the mantelpiece was a framed photo of me - one of the ones Claire had taken before. When I noticed it, it made me feel worse. It just reminded me how I got into this mess. Every time I got up from the sofa, I stopped to look at myself in a mirror, not quite believing what I saw. "Do you like the name Emily?" asked Claire around six. Before I could reply she went on, "I can't call you Ben with you dressed like that. From now on, I shall call you Emily." I nodded. "Yes, Claire.' "Now, Emily, would you like to be a good girl and help me get the dinner ready?" I winced at the word girl and my new name. I followed her to the kitchen. As I helped her cut up the meat and vegetables, I was still very aware of my new appearance, for example I kept noticing the swish of my underskirt as I walked around the room to lay the table. I hated myself for getting involved in this charade. The evening passed slowly as I studied hard and when it was time for bed, Claire came to my room and amid much embarrassment on my part, helped me undress. It was a relief to get out of the corset at last. When I was clad only in my pants, Claire took from the wardrobe a long lacy nightie and told me to put it on. I protested that this wasn't part of the bargain but got nowhere. So for the rest of the week I slept in that dainty nightie. As I lay in bed in my nightie I thought of all that had happened that day. The corset was terribly uncomfortable; the dress I wore awful; the wig itchy; the outfit totally humiliating. I still had six more days of this. Why had I agreed to it? I took a long time to fall asleep. Monday The next morning Claire woke me saying it was time to get ready for school. School? I had left school. I went to the bathroom and washed and shaved. I found some knickers in the drawer and put them on. Claire then came in to help me get dressed. It was easier to put on the corset this time. After putting on a petticoat, Claire chose a navy blue pleated school skirt and a white blouse. I again put on some white socks, flat shoes and the wig. Claire then made me put on a school tie and brushed my hair. She said she would do my make-up again so I sat down at the dressing table, while she got out the cosmetics. Again she put on the foundation, blusher, mascara and lip-gloss. "All women have to be girls first, Emily and you're no exception. You do look pretty," Claire remarked as I looked in the mirror. I looked just like a schoolgirl. My face and figure looked quite feminine. My legs looked slim. I didn't like the skirt, tie and blouse. Yesterday I was eight. Now I might have been ten. At breakfast Claire explained that I wasn't actually going to school. It was just that that day I was going to learn to be more like a girl. 'Can you sew, Emily?' Claire asked. I shook my head. 'Oh, come on, all girls must learn how to sew.' After breakfast she started to teach me to sew. She was making an evening dress for herself out of a black material and I did my best to help. I acquired a little dexterity with the sewing machine, needle and thread and surprisingly enjoyed it more and more as we progressed. Although I was getting used to the constriction of the corset, I still could not get used to the idea of going round the house dressed as a girl. I was uncomfortable and unhappy. At four o'clock, Claire told me school was over for the day and made me change back into the gingham dress. This made me even more unhappy. I tried to ignore the dress that evening as I studied but I never got it out of my mind. Tuesday The next morning Claire woke me and said I had to get myself ready. Breakfast would be served in fifteen minutes. I went to the bathroom in my nightie and washed quickly and shaved. I found some knickers in the drawer and put them on. Putting on the corset on my own was more difficult than I had thought but the rest was very easy. Claire told me to put on the same clothes as the day before. I did my best to put on the wig and had just finished my make-up when Claire called 'Emily' loudly up the stairs. When I got into the kitchen, Claire complimented me on my make-up and hair but chided me for being such a slow coach. I said that the delay was because she had insisted that I dress myself and do my own make-up but I promised that I would get quicker. Claire said that we would spend the day doing some more sewing. I acted as helper and tailor's dummy, occasionally trying the dress on for Claire to see how it looked. Again at four o'clock I was again told to change into the gingham dress. That night when I went to bed, I peeked in my wardrobe and for the first time saw the clothes there. There were all kinds of skirts and dresses there. Though the thought of wearing them was embarrassing, there was a tiny tingle of excitement down my spine. Did they all belong to Claire? Some of things were very nice - the sort of thing I might have worn if I had been a girl. Some were a bit tarty. I noticed there were two black mini-skirts. Did Claire really wear them? They seemed a bit young for her. I remember seeing a denim mini-skirt, the velvet dress I had worn before, a black mini-dress, a short white skirt, and a sleek long black skirt. I couldn't imagine Claire wearing them all. Had Claire put these things here for me to wear? Why hadn't Claire dressed me in one of them? Perhaps she would later. Maybe she had a devious plan; deliberately dressing me in something ridiculous so that I would actually want to wear one of these outfits. I silently had a quick look through the chest of drawers, where I saw bras, tights and other feminine garments. I checked in the dressing table drawers. Here I found all sorts of lipsticks, eye-liners, eye- shadows, false finger-nails, perfumes, hair-sprays and the like. Had Claire left them here for me? I went to bed unhappy and confused. Wednesday The next morning I got up as usual. Claire told me to get dressed in a different school uniform; a blouse, tie, a long navy blue pinafore dress and pop-socks that gave the appearance of tights. I was getting better at dressing, putting on my make-up and doing my hair. The corset seemed more comfortable. I was beginning to become used to it after two days. I studied myself in the mirror. I might have been getting used to being Emily but I still didn't like it. The dress was very girly. Still only Claire would see and it was already Wednesday. I arrived for breakfast on time and Claire was impressed by my punctuality and my appearance. She announced that we would be doing cookery that morning. We spent all the time in the kitchen making cakes and baking bread. It was hard work and the time passed very quickly. At lunch Claire said she must go back into town that afternoon to buy some things. Fortunately she did not seem to expect me to go with her. She said she would be back soon after five and left me to do some revising while she was out. I realised that I could get rid of the wig, skirt and corset and spend the afternoon in my normal clothes. I even considered getting changed, packing and going straight back to university while Claire was gone, but rejected the idea as I had already survived three days as Emily. It wouldn't be much longer now and Claire could still show mum the compromising photos. I longed for Claire to go out. It seemed to take an age but at last she left about 2.30. After her departure I waited for a few moments in case Claire had forgotten something and then went upstairs. I was shocked to discover that instead of changing back into my real clothes, I was drawn magnetically to the wardrobe. I took out the denim skirt. I had a brief look in the mirror. An awkward, unhappy, girl in school uniform was sulking back at me. I quickly took off the uniform, and shoes. Looking in a drawer found a bra and a pair of plain tights and I put them on. My heart was pounding as I stuffed another pair of tights into each cup of the bra and adjusted them till I was happy with the shape. I nervously put the skirt. It was short but fitted perfectly. How did Claire know my size? I didn't even know my size! I put on a white top and found a pair of fashionable high-heeled shoes and I was soon wearing them too. Sitting at the dressing table, I touched up my make up and added some cherry red lipstick, eye-liner, eye shadow and mascara. Then I found and put on the false nails, a couple of rings, clip-on ear rings and a necklace. I was trembling as I looked in the mirror. I had looked pretty in those photos Claire took last year, but I never thought that I would look this good - glamorous, quite feminine and very pretty - even sexy. The stretchy material of the top hugged my artificial curves - my new bust, corseted waist and high heels give me an enviable figure. The dress made my slim legs look long and attractive; my finger nails looked dainty. The skirt was shorter than I'd expected and I subconsciously tugged at the hem to try to pull it down a bit. I sat on the sofa for over an hour reading. I was shocked to realise that not only did I look good in the skirt but I actually felt good too. The skirt and tights were so comfortable, they felt like a second skin as if I was wearing nothing unusual. As I noticed my long legs poking out from my skirt, I felt quite proud. It was difficult to walk in the shoes but that didn't matter as I sat studying. I wondered what Claire would have thought if she had come back early and seen me now. I thought of keeping my new outfit on for when Claire got back, but didn't quite have the courage. In the end although I didn't really want to change, I removed the false nails; took off the dress, tights and bra; changed into the gingham dress and toned down the make-up just in time for Claire's return home. I didn't dare tell Claire how I'd been a naughty girl that afternoon. Claire kept saying that I was such a pretty, little girl. I didn't want to be pretty, little or a girl. At least I was getting more accustomed to my predicament but why, couldn't I wear something more my age? Still three days had already gone; only four to go. Thursday The next day after I had visited the bathroom, Claire came into my room and said, "I don't think you need to wear the school uniform any longer. There's a denim skirt in the wardrobe that I think will suit you." It was the one I had worn the day before. Was this coincidence or did she know of my activities? I put on knickers, the bra and tights. I stuffed the bra like I had done before and put on the dress and the high-heeled shoes. I then added the wig and started doing my make-up; foundation, blusher, mascara, lashings of black eye-liner and the bright red lipstick. I looked in the mirror. I was impressed. Looking back was a very attractive, well-dressed young woman. Was there too much make-up? What would Claire say? I went downstairs a trifle nervous. "Oh, Emily," Claire said. "You've put on too much make-up. That skirt is a bit shorter than I remember and with those high heels, what sort of girl do you look like? We don't want people to get the wrong impression about you do we?" I didn't answer. "However you do look beautiful," she said, "quite a young lady. You've got a pretty face, a gorgeous figure and lovely legs. I'm quite jealous!" I was quite relieved. I had expected Claire to send me straight upstairs to take off the bra and clean off the eye-liner and lipstick. I spent the day helping Claire around the house. The skirt was very comfortable and I was hardly aware I was wearing it. The corset and the bra didn't restrict me at all. In the afternoon, Claire suggested that as the weather was warm, we should go for a walk. After three days inside I needed some exercise and fresh air. Then I remembered what I was wearing. However comfortable I felt in the denim skirt, I didn't want to go out in it. I would have found it hard to walk far in those high heels so I declined. Claire tried to persuade me, saying that I could change my shoes and put on something less revealing. She told me to follow her upstairs. Searching the wardrobe she brought out a lovely long black skirt, got a white jumper from the chest and some more sensible shoes. Rather reluctantly I agreed to change and join her on the walk. I was nervous, but just a little excited about going out en femme. My heart was pounding as we strolled round the block but the walk was uneventful. The new shoes were not as uncomfortable as the ones with the high heels and the corset didn't bother me. I was surprised to find myself enjoying the feel of the skirt as I walked. When we arrived home I was very relieved but also rather pleased with myself. I spent the rest of the day in the long black skirt reading my books. Friday The next day Claire came into my room before I had got up and said she had a lovely outfit for me to wear. She was holding a tartan mini-skirt. I was hardly awake and in no position to argue, so a few minutes later I was wearing the kilt. It was not the sort of kilt men wear in Scotland. In the morning Claire and I had nearly finished the evening dress. Around ten thirty she said she had to go to the shops to get some buttons for the dress and asked me to go with her. Though the walk the day before had immensely helped my confidence, I wasn't sure that I wanted to go out to a shop as I knew it would be more of a challenge than just going for a walk. I might meet someone I knew from university but I accepted this was unlikely in a dress- making shop. She kept on at me and finally I got so fed up with her that I accepted the dare. So for the first time I would really appear in public as Emily. "What should I wear, Claire?" "What's wrong with what you've got on?" "It's a bit short. Is it O.K.?" I asked in a panic. It was one thing wearing a mini-skirt in the privacy of the house. Wearing it in public was completely different. "Lots of girls wear them that short," Claire replied. "Lots of girls, maybe," I thought, "but not many boys." I asked. "Is it really all right?" "Of course. You look wonderful, Emily," said Claire reassuring me that it would be all right. So having re-done my make-up and hair and put on a denim jacket, I got into Claire's car and she drove us to the shop. There were a few people in the car park and I became so panic stricken that I didn't dare get out of the car. Claire helped me compose myself and eventually I got out. To my relief no- one seemed pay me any attention when Claire and I were in the shop. All the time, I was as frightened as could be but my fears were unnecessary for nothing happened. Claire bought the things she needed and then we visited a lingerie shop nearby. She bought a basque, some stockings and a lacy petticoat. As we walked back to the car, I was worried when a young man seemed to be staring at me. Claire whispered that it was because I was such a pretty young woman and he obviously found me attractive. I felt myself blushing and hoped it didn't show under my make-up. Going out dressed as Emily gave me quite a buzz; part challenge, part excitement, part fear. I was very relieved when we arrived home safely. I felt really elated about my experience. I went to bed pleased with the day's events. Saturday The next day was to be my last full day as Emily. I got up and dressed in my favourite denim skirt. I spent much of the day reading; I hardly noticed what I was wearing - I found it very comfortable. At lunch Claire said that as this was my last evening, she would cook a special meal and we would both get dressed up to the nines. I wondered what Claire expected me to wear. I must confess that I was excited at the prospect. We stayed in all day and about six she sent me upstairs for a bath. When I returned to my room wearing just panties and the dressing gown, Claire was waiting for me and handed me a basque. It was lacy and white and I recognised it as the one she had bought on Friday afternoon when we went shopping together. It was so lovely that I felt an awful desire to wear it but felt nonetheless that I shouldn't wear her newest things. I explained this to her but told me to go ahead and put it on anyway. I didn't wait for a second invitation. I felt a thrill as I pulled it round my body. It was much more wasp waisted than the corset I had been wearing but what a wonderful figure it gave me. Claire then carefully fitted two false breasts in the cups of the basque. Next came the pair of white stockings; I had never worn stockings before. Sitting on a chair I slipped the toe of a stocking over my foot. I gently slid the sheer material up my leg making sure that I didn't ladder it. I clipped the top of the stocking to the suspenders. I slid the fine material of the second stocking over my leg. I stood up and checked my seams were straight. When I had the lingerie all on, Claire gave me the evening dress that we had spent that week making. I again protested at wearing something before she had worn it. I was hushed and soon had the dress on. It fitted perfectly. "Oh, Claire, it might have been made for me," I said. "Oh, but it was," she replied. "Emily, don't you understand? All these clothes are yours." "Mine?" I gasped. "Why yes, Emily. Didn't you know that all the things we bought the other day, I got as a present to you? The dress is for you, too!" "Oh Claire!" I exclaimed, strangely thrilled, "Thank you ever so much but I don't need them. I stop wearing dresses tomorrow." "Oh don't worry Emily!" she replied with a most enigmatic smile, "You can take them home with you when you leave. They may come in handy." I put on my stilettos and Claire again gave me two rings and two bracelets. "There now," she said, "You're ready. Have a look at yourself." I looked at myself in the mirror. I was amazed at my appearance. I looked very feminine and sophisticated. The full skirt and narrow waist combined to make me look like some lovely fragile flower. The shoes even seemed fairly comfortable. I was so delighted that I smiled and turned to view myself from every possible angle. Claire came back with a Polaroid camera. "You're so pretty, I must take your photo," she said. I was a little concerned in case the photos got into the wrong hands but was flattered. She took about four photos and gave me two to keep. I went downstairs. Claire was full of compliments. Then the phone rang and Claire answered it. She was speaking to someone called Amy. She told Amy that her cousin Emily was staying. Amy obviously asked what we were doing that evening and the next thing Claire had invited her over for the meal as well. I was dumbstruck. I would have to spend the whole evening with this friend Amy. She was bound to find out about me. Claire told me not to be so nervous. The silken softness of my underthings, the tickling of lace, and the swish of my dress reassured me and I soon relaxed. The thought of the smartness of my attire and appearance began to reassert itself and soon I was more confident. Amy worked with Claire as her junior partner. She was pretty, about my age and obviously got on well with my cousin. "Hello, Emily," Amy said, "Claire has told me all about you." What has she told her I wondered. "You look gorgeous, Emily, like a fairy tale princess," Amy added. It may be immodest but with my beautiful dress and hair, I felt like a princess too. Over dinner, Amy said to me, "Emily, would you like to work in the beauty business? You're very pretty and Claire says you're very fashion conscious. I love that dress you're wearing. Wouldn't you like to come and work with Claire and me? I am sure we could give you a job?" "Well, thank you, Amy," I said, "but I have to finish my studies first." "Emily might come and help us during the summer holidays," said Claire, casually. Help? In the beauty salon? It was the first I had heard of it. Do I get any say in this? Fortunately the subject never came up after that. Other than that the evening went very well. When Amy left, I was relieved. She didn't seem to have any idea of my secret. Now I knew that I could pass myself off as Emily successfully. I looked in the bedroom mirror. I was very enamoured with my appearance. When I finally got ready for bed that evening, I took off my dainty dress with genuine regret. Still I found a short feminine nightie to wear! The next morning though, I was glad that my week as a woman was nearly over. I had become used to and even fond of Emily's clothes, so I decided to wear my least favourite outfit so that I wouldn't regret resuming my own clothes later that day. As a result I dressed in the pink gingham dress, white socks and sandals and put on no make-up. I examined myself in the mirror, not liking what I saw. When I came down to breakfast, I could see Claire was a little surprised by my girly appearance, contrasting with last night's sophistication, but nonetheless she said I looked very nice. She said that we had been invited to lunch by her friend Amy. I could then go back to uni in the afternoon. This meant I would have to get made up again. I pleaded with her to be allowed to resume my own clothes and go home that morning, but Claire reminded me that our bargain was for a full week, which wouldn't be up until late afternoon. I grouchily agreed and spent the morning in the silly dress, reading and feeling sorry for myself. About 11.30 Claire announced that I would need to change and it was time to get ready, so we both went upstairs. I asked Claire what I should wear and she replied that she would decide while I was in the bath. I took off my dress and underthings and putting on my dressing gown, went in to the bathroom. When I came back to my room, in my underwear, Claire was holding a pink dress. I put it on slowly. It was very tight around the waist and very, very short. I can't wear this I thought, but Claire smiled and said it was wonderful. She did my make-up, giving me a necklace to wear. I looked at myself smiling in the mirror. The dress was a lovely colour but practically indecent. My make-up was perfect and my hair shone. I was really nervous about going out in the dress but glad that I had already met Amy. I was justifiably proud of my looks. At Amy's flat, Claire and I helped her lay the table. I overheard Amy whisper to Claire, "Emily is really pretty, isn't she?" Claire gave me quite a teasing about it on the way home. The meal was very good and the three of us got on very well. When we got there my week as a woman was over. I went upstairs to get changed, but I felt not the slightest desire to do so. My new clothes so delighted me that I felt that I would never like to be without them. As I was about to change, Claire came into my room. "You don't have to go this afternoon, Emily," Claire said. "You could stay until the morning. You could go straight from here to your lectures." The offer was very tempting. I liked Claire. She saw my hesitation. "You can change back into your old clothes now if you want." "That's OK, Claire," I replied. "I will stay and I might as well keep these things on if you don't mind." "Of course, I don't mind," she said. "They are all yours after all." And so I spent my final evening at Claire's en femme. When I said good- night to Claire she said to me, "Well I suppose I'd better say goodbye to you, Emily. Has the past week been as bad as you thought it would be?" Of course I didn't want to admit the feelings that were growing within me, so I said, "No, Claire, not that bad." That night as I undressed and took my make-up off for the last time I was quite sad. When I went to bed, by choice, I wore the nightie. When I arose the next morning I longed to put on a dress. Realising that it would be a dead give-away I put on my own clothes while regretting that our bargain hadn't been for a month instead of a week. My old clothes felt strange, particularly the trousers. My skin, accustomed to silk, rebelled at their roughness. This sensation passed and I began to feel natural by the time I got to the breakfast table. Claire made no comment about my appearance. I packed the pink dress, the denim mini-skirt, a black dress, some of the other clothes, underthings, wig and make-up with my books at the bottom of my sports bag. I said goodbye and went to catch the bus. Claire's last words were, "Don't tell your mum about Emily." "Don't worry, Claire, I wont." And I didn't. Part Two For the first few weeks after my stay at Claire's flat everything went normally except occasionally I noticed the plastic bag at the bottom of the chest of drawers in which I had hidden the clothes and I felt a tingle down my spine. It wasn't that I wished to wear them so much as it was happy memory of my week at Claire's. One day I started thinking about the denim skirt. No sooner had I done so than I went to find the two photos Claire had taken of me which were hidden in a desk. When I saw myself in the photos I had an intense desire to put the clothes on. The thought that I could do so undetected was too much to resist. In a few minutes, I had undressed and was putting on the corset. Before long I was dressed, had arranged the wig and was admiring myself in the mirror. The rest of the afternoon was delightful. I just wandered around my room but the mere fact that I was dressed as Emily made me happy. I finally changed back to my own clothes in time for dinner. I resolved to have my ears pierced and to let my hair grow long. I woke early the next morning and lay in bed trying to work my courage up to the point where I could go out in my feminine things, but I didn't dare. Later that day I had both my ears pierced. Mum wouldn't approve but I would say I was old enough to make up my own mind. I wore the skirt a few more times that term. One afternoon, Claire came to visit after she finished work. She asked me, "Have you seen Emily recently?" I had to confess that I had seen Emily but only once or twice. Claire went on. "You know I told Amy that you were going to help us out at the salon in the summer holidays? Would you like to help?" Did I want to help? I tried not to sound too keen as I asked. "Do I have any choice?" "Not if you want to keep those photos of you away from your mum." It was then that I realised that the blackmailer is never satisfied. I would have accepted anyway but the fact that Claire forced me to made it look better. Or did it? Did Claire suspect I liked being Emily? The days until the end of term passed very slowly. I agreed with Claire to spend the first week of the vacation at her flat. I was very short of money and she had offered to pay me for my work, adding that if I wished to work another week I could. For the last couple of weeks I tried to grow my finger- nails with some success. On the night before I secretly waxed my legs, shaved my armpits and put on the black dress. It felt very comfortable. I had already sent most of my belongings on ahead to Claire's house in a trunk. I carefully packed my suitcase with my feminine things in the bottom. The next morning I got up early. I had a sudden desire to change into the dress. I was torn between fear and desire. This time desire won and I bravely put on the black dress again. Thirty minutes later Emily emerged from my room, carrying the suitcase, fully made-up and dressed in a short black dress, wig, tights and high heels and with my own nails painted. It was the first time I had been out on my own as Emily. The dress was very short. I was very nervous but nothing happened. There was no-one about. I hoped I could spend the whole of my time at Claire's as Emily. When I arrived at Claire's I rang the bell, with some trepidation. Would she like me dressed as Emily? She shrieked with pleasure as she saw me, throwing her arms around me and kissing me. When we were inside she burst into tears. I couldn't imagine what was the matter until she sobbed, "Oh, Emily, you are absolutely wonderful!" I saw the pleasure she got from my beauty, my lovely clothes and my ability to wear them. "But why cry, Claire?" "I can't help it," she sobbed, "It's just that I'm so happy." Then as I tried to dry her eyes, I started to cry too, something I wouldn't have thought possible. I confessed that I liked to dress as Emily, but at the same time I admitted the fear of ridicule. She explained how much she liked me in a feminine role and that I would again have to wear skirts all the week while she taught me to be more like a woman. Claire took my case and told me that she had put lots of clothes for me on my bed. I rushed into my room. What a treasure was revealed. There were all the clothes I had worn before, the mini-kilt, the school uniform and some new items. There was even the girly gingham frock. There was also plenty of underwear; basques, corsets, bras, panties, petticoats, camisoles, tights and stockings; and for my feet, high-heeled shoes and ankle boots. For jewellery I got a string of beads, a gold bracelet, a lovely ring, and a three pairs of gold earrings. I was very glad my ears had been pierced. There were also dainty handkerchiefs, perfume and cosmetics. These gifts overwhelmed me. There was no longer any use pretending that I didn't like wearing feminine clothes. Claire came in and I fairly bubbled over thanking her and she seemed as pleased as me. "You'll need plenty of clothes this week," Claire said. "Would you like to try any of these things on." In truth I wanted to try them all on but selected a lacy white dress and changed into it. I no longer felt humiliated by dressing as Emily. I looked in the mirror. The dress was gorgeous."I'm glad you've had your ears pierced, Emily," Claire said as she fixed a gold loop in each ear. "I was right. Ear-rings do always look nice on a girl." Claire again made me parade up and down and pirouette in the living room. Again her praise was lavish. I was enjoying myself. Later Claire said, "Emily, I'd like you to start at the salon tomorrow. One of our hairdressers is on holiday and there are lots of little jobs to do to help us out." Claire could see that I was a little nervous about it but she assured me that there would be no problem. The afternoon passed very quickly, talking to Claire and reading a book. I loved my clothes; not one minute passed without me thinking how lucky I was to be wearing a dress! I felt really relaxed. When it was time for bed, I looked in the mirror with pride. It took a long time for me to get to bed that night, for I lovingly examined each article before I put it away. I was very proud of myself, my clothes, my hair, my bright red nails and dangly ear-rings. As I lay in bed in my nightie I thought of all that had happened to me. I was just a little apprehensive about working at the salon. Monday The next morning Claire woke me saying it was time to get ready for work. I went to the bathroom and washed and shaved. I was excited about getting dressed. What should I wear? On went the panties, corset, bra and tights. I then chose a jump suit. I looked in the mirror. My face and figure looked quite feminine. Perhaps I should wear a dress on my first day. Decisions, decisions. In the end I changed out of the jump suit and into the short black dress and tights. At breakfast Claire said I looked lovely. There were four of us at the salon, Claire, Amy a young trainee, Chloe, and me. I remembered Amy from when we'd met before. We got on well, chatted a lot and she showed me a lot of things to do. I wasn't much use really. I just swept up and made the tea but the three of them seemed grateful. I really regretted wearing the dress though. Every time I leaned forward to sweep the salon floor I was worried in case I was indecent. Still no-one said anything. In the afternoon we weren't very busy and Amy asked me if I wanted a manicure. I agreed and Amy spent twenty minutes extending and painting my nails. When she'd finished, my hands looked graceful and very feminine. Amy suggested that I go out for a drink with her on Tuesday evening. I liked Amy and we got on so well, that although I was worried that my secret might come out, I accepted with alacrity. Neither the customers, Chloe or Amy seemed to have an inkling of my true identity. When we got home, Claire suggested I changed into a jumper and jeans. Had she noticed something embarrassing when I wore the dress? Did she just feel I should change out of my work clothes? I felt I was letting myself down wearing trousers until I studied myself in the mirror. The jeans were very tight and very feminine. Tuesday The next morning, I dressed in the long black skirt. This wouldn't be so embarrassing, I reasoned. Just as I finished my hair, Claire came in to wake me. Finding me up and dressed she was delighted. After chatting with her for a few moments about my new clothes, she returned to her room to dress while I went downstairs. Looking in the hall mirror I saw myself for what I appeared - a pretty, graceful and vivacious young woman with hardly a trace of my real masculine self. At five to eight wearing a short white dress I climbed into Claire's white mini car. I hope I'm not stopped by the police I thought. I wouldn't want to show them my driving licence. I drove to Amy's flat. When I got there Amy said that she'd got a good video. Would I prefer to stay in with her to watch it? The idea was more attractive than going out to a bar so I said yes. As we sat talking I realised what a pleasant, attractive girl she was. I fancied her. I wanted to hold her hand and kiss her. What could I do? She only knew me as a girl. Should I confess the truth to her? I felt a little nervous but said nothing. When the video started Amy sat next to me on the sofa, sharing a bottle of wine. Well I had one glass - I was driving. She had the rest. As the film went on I realised that she was inching closer towards me, almost touching me. Then our thighs were practically rubbing together. I didn't know what to do. Did Amy fancy me? Was she a lesbian or did she know all about me? I was enjoying it but my nerves were at breaking point. Eventually I had to ask, "You know, don't you?" "Know what?" "About me.""What about you?" "That I'm ... that I'm," I whispered. "That I'm not a girl." "Oh, yes," she said. How did she find out? "Claire told me before you went to stay with her the first time. It's all right, I've been sworn to secrecy. She told me that her male cousin was coming to stay and that she would dress him as a girl. Actually it was really my idea. Last year I suggested to her that make-overs are so convincing that it might be possible to change a boy into a girl." "And you chose me as your guinea-pig?" "Claire did, more or less. She thought that if we could dress someone for a week, he would get to enjoy it. She devised a plan to trap him and blackmail him into agreeing. That someone just happened to be you. You don't mind, though, do you, Emily? Were we right? You like dressing en femme, don't you?" I smiled. "If I'm being honest, I suppose I do." "Your secret is safe with me." Actually I was quite relieved that Amy knew. At least that meant that I didn't have to tell her or worry about her finding out. "I'm very broad minded," she added. "You can wear what you like as far as I'm concerned." "But Amy," I went on, seeing my chance, "I'd like to go out with you. Would you go out with a guy in a white mini-dress?" "I don't see why not. He might let me borrow it if he's my size. I'd go out with him if he's a right guy." "And am I the right guy?" I whispered. "If you're asking me out, then the answer's yes. I thought I might have to ask you," she said. Oh, the relief. I smiled. I kissed her. After some gentle but enjoyable snogging, Amy asked me if I wanted to stay the night. I wondered if she really wanted me to stay. I felt a bit like someone in a freak show; everyone wanting to stare at me. "No, I'd better not. Nice girls don't sleep with someone on their first date," I said with a little regret. After some more snogging I said good night and drove back to Claire's. I lay in bed thinking about how I had become part of Amy and Claire's experiment. Wednesday The next morning I discussed the events of the previous night with Claire over breakfast. "I wondered how long it would be before you started going out with her," she said. She didn't seem to see anything unusual about it. "Yes, but does she want to go out with me like this," I replied, "or, you know, the real me?" "You'll have to ask her," Claire said. It occurred to me that Amy's behaviour the previous night might just have been the result of drinking all that wine. I hoped that now she had sobered up, she hadn't changed her mind about me. I didn't say anything when we got to work but around half past nine, I was tidying up the stock room at the back when Amy came in. "Hi," she said and gave me a little kiss on my cheek. "Are you looking forward to tonight?" "Of course I am," I answered, "but, Amy, do you want me to come round like this or do you want me to come as Ben?" Amy thought for a moment. "I suppose that if Ben came, you would have to cut off those nails I spent such a long time doing so lovingly on Monday?" "I suppose I would," I said. "Then you'd better stay as Emily. You don't mind, do you?" "No. I'm quite used to it by now." I really didn't mind. I knew I could pass quite well. In fact, Emily's clothes were much smarter than Ben's. It was just that there seemed to be a conspiracy to keep me as Emily. After work I went home with Claire as usual. "What should I wear tonight?" I asked her. "Nothing too provocative at your first date," she said. "Something demure. A long skirt. Tights, not stockings." So I dressed in a pretty white blouse, floral waistcoat, long black skirt and plain tights. I looked very demure and very feminine. I packed a few overnight things - make up, nightie, sponge bag and a change of underclothes for the morning - into a shoulder bag and around half past seven, Claire drove me round to Amy's flat. "Good luck," she called as I climbed out of the car, "See you tomorrow." Claire drove off before Amy answered the door. As I went in, I saw that Amy obviously didn't believe in Claire's first date philosophy. There was an overwhelming smell of her perfume. She wore plenty of make-up and the shortest skirt I'd ever seen. She looked stunning. "You look beautiful," I said. "So do you," she replied. "The food won't be ready for half an hour but I've just opened a bottle of wine. Go in and sit down." I sat on the sofa and a minute later Amy came in carrying two full glasses and the half-full bottle. I don't know how it happened but as she passed me my wine, between the two of us we spilt the whole glass over my skirt. Did she do it on purpose? Who knows? "Oh I am sorry," she said. "Look, you'll have to sponge it down. I can lend you a skirt, if you like. Yes, you take it off while I go upstairs and get something for you to put on." I stood up, undid the zip and buttons and stepped out of the wet skirt. Amy came back, carrying a black skirt that was similar in length to the one she'd got on. I said nothing as we swapped garments and she took my skirt into the kitchen to sponge it down. I stepped into the tiny skirt and pulled it up around my waist. It was little more than a belt. However it fitted perfectly; I was relieved that I had followed Claire's advice about not wearing stockings. I felt like a right slapper as it was! I poured myself some more wine and took a large gulp. I needed it. Amy came back in and we both sat down on the sofa with our drinks. "You look very pretty," she said. I am sure I must have blushed. "That skirt suits you. You've got lovely legs. The food still won't be done for twenty minutes shall we go upstairs and lie down?" I agreed happily and a minute later we were lying next to each other on her bed snogging, our thighs inter-twined, not caring about our make-up. Our tongues met. This was heavenly. I started to feel up her skirt. She started to feel up mine. "Hold on," she said. "We've got all evening. Let's not get carried away." We touched up our make-up, went downstairs and ate the meal. It was a lovely evening. Around ten o'clock I went upstairs and changed into a sexy negligee. I went down to see Amy and she said that she had a present for me. She gave me a small parcel which I hurriedly unwrapped. Inside was a long blonde wig. "Oh thank you, Amy," I said. "I'd love to be a blonde. Can I try it on now?" "Of course." "I went upstairs and took off my dark wig and put on the blonde one. After about five minutes I was satisfied that it looked all right. I studied myself in the mirror with pride and went down to see Amy. She was thrilled. Then it was time for bed. I dressed in a basque, stockings and lacy negligee. We finished our earlier activity and then went to sleep - me still in the lovely blonde wig. Thursday The long skirt was dry in the morning, which was good news for there was no way I could have gone to the salon in Amy's little skirt. I was wearing the blonde wig though. I loved it. I just hoped that I didn't look like a bimbo! Claire admired it and said that I looked really pretty. She was delighted and after kissing me said, "Emily, you look as sweet as can be." I loved getting compliments. I grew more and more confident every time I went out wearing feminine clothes. Each day my ego was further inflated. That afternoon Claire suggested I leave work early and go shopping by myself. I screwed up my courage and went into town on my own still dressed in my long skirt. I hardly bought anything; just window shopped. I returned home with a few purchases; stockings and a new handbag. Claire seemed pleased when I showed her what I had bought. When I got home I found Amy's mini-skirt - the one I'd worn the night before in my hand-bag. Amy had obviously put it there when I wasn't looking. I changed into it - Amy was coming round later and obviously liked me wearing it. I admired my long legs. I really liked the skirt. Sure it was indecent but who cared? It was very comfortable. Claire played gooseberry all evening as Amy and I sat next to each other on the sofa, in our tiny skirts, holding hands. Amy looked gorgeous. Friday On Friday evening Amy said we should go out for a drink. Although I had dressed as Emily for nearly a week and had enjoyed it, I was very nervous about going out en femme with Amy; more nervous than the first time I went out shopping as Emily. Suppose I wanted to kiss her. Sometimes she was irresistible. Perhaps I shouldn't go. I could ring up Amy and tell her I felt sick. I suggested this to Claire and she said I must not give in. Faint heart never won a fair lady, she told me. What should I wear? Something butch and masculine like a pair of jeans? Something feminine like a pretty dress? I was going neurotic. I opted for the denim skirt. Claire said it was too short but I didn't take any notice. It was longer than the skirt I'd worn the night before. We went to a cellar bar that I'd never been to before. Inside it was dark and noisy. I was relieved as it would be easy to pass in there. I looked around and saw the place was full of other trannies, mostly in short skirts and long wigs. "See," said Amy, "you're not the only one!" It was a warm and friendly atmosphere. I sat down as Amy bought the drinks. "Have you been here before?" I asked her. "I used to come here a lot with my ex, Ken. He called himself Karen," she said. "He used to love coming in here. He liked to wear a black PVC dress. Very short. I've still got it at home. I borrowed once and 'forgot' to give it him back. You'd look good in it." Thoughts raced through my head. So she's been out with a tranny before. Is this how she likes her men? In mini-dresses. No doubt I would be wearing that PVC number before long. She kissed me. No-one thought it unusual. "Emily," Amy asked me. "What are your plans for the rest of the summer? Claire says that she'd like you to stay on at the salon." I didn't answer. I wasn't so sure. Yes I had enjoyed it but how much longer could I keep this up before people found out. What about my mum? "Oh, come on, Em," Amy said trying to persuade me. "Don't pretend that you haven't enjoyed it." "Yes, I have enjoyed it," I admitted, "but is it really me?" "Who cares? It's great fun. You're really pretty and you always look great. You can earn a lot of money." "You're right there," I said. I think I wanted to be persuaded. I half liked the idea. Well, to be honest, more than half but I didn't want to seem too keen. "I'll talk to Claire tomorrow about it," I said and changed the subject. I drove Amy home like any boy-friend would. I hoped that she might invite me in for coffee and she did. I accepted. After she put the kettle on, she went to find the PVC mini-dress. I didn't need to be told to put it on. The dress was lovely. Very short but lovely. Amy asked me to stay the night and I accepted. Saturday Amy had dared me to wear the PVC dress to work and I stupidly accepted the challenge if she wore something just as short. The dresses were indecently short but I felt good wearing mine. From then on the two of us wore very short skirts nearly all the time. At the salon Claire was shocked to see me in such a short dress. She asked me where I got it from. I told her it was a present from Amy. The day passed slowly. The work was boring and I hardly got a chance to talk to Amy. I felt like dragging her into the ladies loo and giving her a cuddle but that would not have been very gentlemanly. But then a gentleman would not have been wearing a PVC mini-dress and high-heels. I had not had the chance to talk to Claire when she asked, "Emily, can you stay and work for us all summer?" "If you want me to. I need the money and I've quite enjoyed the last week. I'll have to make up some excuse to tell mum!" "I'm sure we can think of something." "In which case, can I borrow your car tonight, to take Amy out to celebrate," I asked Claire. "Where are you going?" "I don't know yet. A restaurant maybe." "Are you going like that or as Ben?" "What do you think? I haven't got any of Ben's clothes here.""If you're going en femme, you can have the car." I asked Amy if she'd go out for a meal with me and she accepted. I told her Emily would pick her up at eight. When I got to Amy's flat, still wearing the PVC dress, she invited me in. She told me that she didn't want to go to a restaurant and that she had some food in the oven. It would be ready in half an hour. She opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. We both had a sip. "Put your glass down," she said. "Mine's the one without a lipstick stain!" She put her arms around me and kissed me. Then we started snogging properly. "Sorry to ruin your make-up, Emily," she said when we stopped, "but we couldn't do this in the restaurant, could we?" She led me into her bedroom where the kissing and groping continued. She soon had here hand up my dress and I had mine up hers. A few minutes later she said, "I've got to put the peas on. You go in the bathroom and touch up your lipstick." I did as I was told. The meal was excellent and we enjoyed ourselves, stopping a few times to intertwine our beautifully manicured hands. After the meal the cuddling continued. "I've got another present for you," said Amy. I didn't need to guess that it was another outfit. Amy passed me a bag and inside was a black leather jacket, a matching skirt and black T-shirt. I couldn't wait to try them on. "Oh, Amy, you shouldn't have," I said when I'd changed. "Nonsense. You look so good in black with your blonde hair. Anyway they didn't cost anything. They belonged to Sandra, another ex of mine. He left them behind when we split up." "Amy, did all your old boyfriends wear short skirts?" "Oh no. Melody hated skirts and usually wore leopard skin leggings. Donna mainly wore calf length skirts." She looked at me and smiled mysteriously. She was joking, wasn't she? Did she only fancy trannies? Was this a plot worked out with Claire? A month or so passed by. At the salon I took a more high profile role sitting at the reception desk, answering the phone and booking in customers. I was even helping to shampoo some customers' hair. I enjoyed it and it was all quite natural. I was hardly aware of my unusual looks and dress, even though most of time Amy and I seemed to be having a competition as to who could wear the shortest skirt. I was spending more and more time at Amy's place. I was practically living there and we were sharing each other's clothes. All Amy's stuff fitted perfectly. I usually wore the dark wig but sometimes I wore the blonde one. Amy had suggested fitting me with a hair extension only unfortunately my real hair wasn't long enough. Then one Wednesday something happened that made me think I was going to die. I was at the reception desk wearing the blonde wig and a white mini-skirt when who should walk in but my mum. I was totally panic stricken. I grabbed the counter to stop myself from shaking as she came to the desk. I couldn't speak but she didn't seem to recognise me. "Can I speak to Claire Adamson please?" she asked. "I'll get her," I mouthed silently and hurriedly away to find Claire who was in the back room. "Claire, Claire," I said, trying to compose myself. I told her the situation. "Keep calm, Em," she said. "Did she recognise you?" "No, I don't think so." I was grateful for the blonde wig. All part of the disguise. "Look," said Claire. "You take my car keys and drive to my place. Get scrubbed up and changed into your real clothes. Then go to Amy's in case your mum wants to go to my place. Come back here about five just as the shop is shutting. I'll tell your mum you're working in the biscuit factory. I'll keep her here all morning and send her shopping this afternoon. Is that all right?" "Yes," I said. I was still shaking. So I followed Claire's plan. Back at her house I took off all Emily's clothes and put on jeans, trainers and a T-shirt. I cleaned off the make-up, cut my nails, removed the varnish and took off the wig. It felt really strange without the corset and the male clothes felt very rough. Everything went according to Claire's plan. I spent the afternoon quietly at Amy's flat and turned up at the salon about quarter to five, feigning surprise at seeing my mother and fatigue after a hard day at the 'biscuit factory.' Mum said she had dropped in to see me as I had not been home in the holiday. I felt a bit guilty about this but I had had other things to do. Claire had invited mum to stay a few days. So that evening all four of us were round at Claire's; me, my girl-friend Amy (who at last was finding out what I really looked like), Claire and mum. Fortunately Claire had two spare rooms so I didn't need to move out. Otherwise mum might have wondered about some of the clothes in my wardrobe! So for the rest of the week, I was Ben. Each day I would leave the house around eight for work at the 'biscuit factory.' I would head straight for Amy's and spend the day there really bored, watching daytime TV. Around five I would head back to the salon and meet the others there. On the Saturday, I said I had to work overtime and still went to Amy's. In the afternoon I was suddenly tempted to dress as Emily. I went into Amy's bedroom and found a leopard skin print mini-dress. Before long I had put on some underwear, tights and was doing up the zip on the dress. I found a wig and put on a bit of make-up. Immediately I felt incredibly relaxed. I wasn't even worried about Amy coming back and finding me en femme. I spent the whole afternoon as Emily before I stripped and tried to put everything back as I had found it before heading off to the salon. The next day mum left for home. The three of us saw her off at the station before going back to Claire's house together. When we got into the hall, I asked Claire, "Shall I go upstairs and get changed?" "Can we just sit down for a minute first?" asked Claire. I was slightly worried by the look on her face, but the three of us all sat down in the living room. "Ben," Claire started. "Amy and I have been discussing what we think you should do." So they've been discussing me behind my back, I thought. Nothing new there. "We think that you shouldn't go back to being Emily." My jaw seemed like it dropped three inches. This was not what I'd expected her to say. "But..." I tried to interrupt. "You see, everyone at the salon will be back from their holidays tomorrow. You've been very helpful while they've all been away but we don't need your help any more." Amy nodded in agreement. "Chloe's back on Monday, you see." "But I thought you liked me being Emily," I protested. "I didn't want to go back to being Ben yet. "When I saw the state you were in when your mother arrived," Claire continued, "I realised the pressure we put you under. Always frightened someone would find out. We shouldn't have done that to you." "Oh, I know I was frightened to death at first, but I've got used to it, by now," I tried to reassure her. "The excitement adds to the fun." "And making you wear those uncomfortable clothes; corsets, stockings, high heels, indecent skirts. We shouldn't have. We've been very unfair." "You've lit a flame inside me, Claire. Don't blow it out, now. When you first put me in a skirt, I hated it but after a few weeks, it all became very normal really. I was hoping Emily could stay here all summer and then when I have to go back to uni, I could move in with Amy. Of course, I would go to the lectures as Ben, but I could get dressed up in the evening. Please, Claire, let me go and change." Claire seemed to hesitate. Perhaps she was weakening Perhaps this was another scheme - just to find out what I really wanted. "The last four days as Ben have been much more stressful than the last month as Emily. My nerves have been as taut as piano wires. Why only yesterday I had to borrow some of your clothes, Amy, I was so stressed." It occurred to me that perhaps Amy knew that I had borrowed some of her clothes. Still I had enjoyed it. "I'm desperate to become Emily again, Claire." "Look, Ben," said Claire, "we don't want to stand in