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Rebecca's Peace By Cindi Johnson of Dallas, Texas Part 1, Wanting Maria It was one o'clock on a Friday afternoon. I had gotten off work early that afternoon, not because I had anything much to do but just because it was a nice autumn day and I had accumulated several days of unused vacation. My job as an accountant at NationsBank kept me inside and occupied, such that come the end of the week I was usually more than ready to leave work and relax. I had been working there for five years now, ever since I graduated from college in Iowa and moved to Dallas to get my first "real" job. I had more or less settled into this new life, although I hadn't made a lot of friends, which was OK since I generally preferred to keep to myself, anyway. But of course, like all young men my age, I was always looking out for a mate. When I first came to Dallas I had developed a serious relationship with a co-worker, Mary, but after about a year she was offered a higher position at the company's headquarters in North Carolina; against my wishes she took the job. This hurt me so that I broke off our relationship completely, even though we probably could have made a go of it despite the move. I hadn't heard from her in over two years. I had also met LeeAnn about nine months ago at a restaurant downtown. She just happened to be sitting by me during lunch, so we started talking, which led to a number of dates over several months, but then the relationship just faded. We didn't have any fights or anything. I don't know exactly what happened; I suspect that LeeAnn just wasn't physically that attracted to me. Not that I'm ugly; no, I'm more or less just an average guy, but at 5'9" and with a slender build, I just wasn't what she wanted. She wanted a big guy and I wasn't one. So, I was on my own as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex that day, looking forward to relaxing, jumping into the pool, maybe having a beer. As I approached the door to my apartment, I noticed my neighbor's door was open. Three young women lived there; all were very pretty, but unfortunately all had ignored me during the six months they lived there. In fact, I had met only one of them, Maria, although I had seen the other two on occasion, coming and going. Maria was a beautiful young lady, maybe about 24 years old, and at about 5'10", very tall for a Latina girl. Slender with a dark complexion, she always seemed to be nicely dressed, and always seemed to wear makeup, even on Saturday mornings. Once, about a month ago, she was at the pool when I went swimming; that day she wore a yellow swimsuit which definitely showed off her long legs, firm tummy, and small but perky breasts. I had introduced myself, but that's about as far as things got. So it was that I was pleasantly surprised when Maria came out of the open door and spoke to me. "Hi, Jim," she said, smiling nicely, "how are you?" At least she remembered my name, I thought to myself. "I'm doing fine, Maria," I replied, "What's going on? Are you all moving out already?" "Oh, no," she laughed, "we're just cleaning up. We've got a party planned tonight." "Well if you need help with anything, just let me know. I got off work early today," I said, not really expecting her to take me up on the offer. "If you're serious," she replied, "change clothes and then come over; we could surely use some help." It didn't take me to long to think that one over; after all, I had nothing to do and Maria was a beauty. Maybe I'd hit a home run! Worth a try, I thought. About a half hour later, after I had changed into jeans, I went over to help Maria. Their door was still open, so I walked on in. Maria welcomed me and introduced me to her roommates: Angela was shorter and not quite as thin as Maria, her reddish-blond hair was cut short and she was casually dressed in jeans and a sweater; and Patricia, also very pretty, with long black hair. All three were Latinas, Patricia, like Maria, had a dark complexion, while Angela's complexion was nearly as light as mine. Apparently Angela had more Spanish blood and less Indian blood than did Maria and Patricia. Each spoke with a slight Spanish accent. "OK, Maria, how can I help," I asked after she had introduced me to her friends. "Do you need any furniture moved around, or any heavy boxes moved?" "Oh, no," she replied, "nothing like that. But Angela is busy making snacks for tonight, while Patricia needs to do my nails, and then I'll have to do hers. And you know how it is, a girl can't do anything until her nails are dry!" "Maybe you could help us with the wash," she continued. "If you would just take that basket over there to the laundry room. Then take the clothes that are in the washer, put them in the dryer, and put these into the wash. We could really use your help!" Maria sounded so nice, so sincere, and yes -so sexy- that I was caught off guard. Instead of refusing to do it, I stammered, "Ah..., I don't know. That's not really what I had in mind. I'm not too good at laundry...." "Please...," Maria responded, "we'll be so grateful!" "Oh,...OK, I guess so," I agreed reluctantly. "Oh thank you," Maria exclaimed, and even kissed me on the cheek. How could I say no to such a sweet girl? I went to the basket and picked it up. I blushed when I saw what was in it: it appeared to be full of lingerie. "Now, be sure to put the washer on delicate," she said, and immediately hang up the clothes when they dry. We don't want wrinkles in our blouses, do we, Patricia?" "No," Patricia replied, looking at me oddly, "I suppose not." "And by the way, that basket has our lingerie in it. Have you ever washed lingerie," Maria asked, seemingly seriously. "No, of course not," I quickly replied. "That's OK, it's not hard; just don't use high heat. Dry at the mid-range level. Don't worry, you'll do fine." I picked up the basket and was headed out the door when Maria stopped me. "Wait," she said, then came over and set a small red purse on top the clothes, "here's my change purse. It should have enough quarters in it." The laundry room was in the next building over from mine, which meant I had to walk through my building, through the parking lot, and into the next building, all while carrying girls laundry. How the hell did I let myself get talked into this, I wondered to myself. It seems odd to me that girls would ask a guy they hardly know to wash their clothes, but Maria made it seemed like it was normal. Maybe there's a cultural difference that I'm not aware of, I thought to myself. I felt odd carrying the basket of lingerie, but with it being early afternoon there was nobody around. But my luck changed when I reached the laundry room; a pretty blond girl, wearing tight jeans and a low cut blouse, was in there washing three loads of clothes. She was sitting on a chair reading Glamour magazine, waiting for her clothes to dry. The laundry room was small, with only a half-dozen machines and an equal number of dryers. I set the basket down and took a few quarters from the red coin purse, which I then put in my back pocket away from view. After buying a fifty cent bag of soap, I set the machine up. Once the soap was in and the machine set to its delicate cycle, I had no choice but to put the clothes in. I couldn't help but blush when I started going through the girls lingerie; the basket was filled with bras, panties, slips, and half slips; some were white, others were various shades of pink. The panties and slips, in particular, were very lacy. In a way it was rather exciting sexually to be handling undergarments of those three pretty girls, but at the same time it was humiliating. I was nearly finished loading the washer when I noticed that the blond girl had set down her magazine and was watching me closely. Somewhat flustered, I inadvertently dropped a lacy pink bra onto the floor; the blond smiled as I bent down to retrieve it. After I got all the lingerie into the machine, I turned my attention to the washer which had already finished its cycle. I went to the washer that Maria filled earlier, and began to unload the wet clothes. Instead of lingerie, this washer had in it several skirts, a flowered jumper, a sundress, and several blouses. After loading these into a dryer, I went to sit down. There were only a few chairs in the room, so I had no choice but to sit near the blond. "I couldn't help but notice that you have a very nice taste in clothes," she said to me after I had seated myself. "I've never known a man that owned so much lingerie. Why, you have more lingerie than I do!" "No, no...," I replied, blushing, "those don't belong to me." "Oh..," she said skeptically, " then whose are they?" "Well, they belong to my neighbors. I'm just helping them out a bit." "Yes, I see," she said sarcastically, "you just happen to wash lingerie for your neighbors. Oh, don't be so afraid. I don't care what you wash. Or for that matter, what you wear! Here, would you like to read my magazine? I've finished it and besides, my clothes are done now." "Thank you," I replied. Only when she handed it to me did I remember she had been reading Glamour, a girl's magazine. The pretty blond took her clothes from the dryer. "Have a nice day," she said to me as she walked out. More comfortable now that I was alone, I flipped through the magazine; it was filled with colorful ads selling such things as pantyhose, lipstick, makeup, and clothes. Each ad had a beautiful model in it. My thoughts turned back to Maria; maybe if I asked her out...... Part 2, Trapped in Skirts After about an hour I finished with the laundry. As I removed the clean, dainty undergarments from the dryer I again found myself somewhat aroused. What the hell, I thought to myself, I'll go ahead and ask Maria for a date. She's a little demanding, but she's sure cute. My arms were full as I returned to Maria's apartment, carrying a basket filled with lingerie, with the skirts and dresses carefully folded and set atop the basket. Maria was on the phone as I entered the apartment. "But Becky," she said, pleading, "you promised! You've got to come. Everything is planned already. We need you!" But apparently her requests were to no avail; she looked dejected as she hung up the phone. "Oh, thank you so much," she said to me as she rushed to take her clothes from me. She even gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was just getting ready to ask her for a date when she explained to the other two what had happened. Apparently Becky was the maid who was going to help out tonight at the party, but since her baby was sick, she couldn't come. "I just don't know what to do," she said sadly. "I wish I could help, but I don't know any domestic help," I said to her, wanting to let her know I felt bad for her, and also wanting to enter the conversation so that I might get a chance to ask her out. "Why, thank you," Maria said to me, you're so nice." Then suddenly a smile came to her face and she said to me, "But maybe you could help us. I've got an idea. She came over to me and held my hand sincerely and said, "You could help out tonight in place of Becky. It wouldn't be hard at all, just help out in the kitchen and such. What do you say? Oh, please do it. Please! We've been planning this party for so long." Then she whispered into my ear "It's for Patricia. Her boyfriend is going to propose tonight, but don't tell her!" Then aloud again, she begged me, "Please help me out, just this once. I'll be forever grateful!" Damn, I thought to myself, if I say no, I might blow my chance with Maria. "Oh..., OK... I suppose so....," I said after she kissed my cheek again. "Oh goody! You're the greatest! Now, we'll have to start getting you ready. Let me think..., I know! I used to work at a nightclub, and I still have the uniform. It looks just like a maid's uniform. I should fit you just fine, though of course we'll need to modify you a bit," she giggled. Angela and Patricia both looked at me with a hint of astonishment. It took a moment for me to realize what Maria was contemplating. "Ah....," I hesitated, "Wait a minute. What do you mean, uniform? I don't understand..." Well, you know," Maria continued, speaking as if her request was not in the least bit bizarre, "we need a maid, so you'll need to dress up as a maid. But don't worry, we'll help you. After all, it's no big thing, and my clothes should fit you just fine. Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate this! How can I ever repay you." With that she came over to me and put her arms around me and gave me a kiss on the mouth, not a passionate kiss, more like a peck, but still enough to disrupt my thinking. "But I can't do that," I protested. "Sure you can. Please give it a try, please. If later on you change your mind, that's OK, I'll understand. But give it a try, won't you?" I hesitated a bit, and Maria took this to signal agreement. She grabbed my arm and started to lead me to the bathroom, talking so that I couldn't get a word of protest in. "OK, Jim, first thing you'll have to do is shave. I'll help. We want you smooth for tonight, OK?" "But Maria! You don't expect me to wear your clothes, do you," I asked in exasperation. "Why not," she replied, "surely a man like you isn't insecure sexually? Come on, now, no one will know, and I promise to make it up to you." With that she pulled me into the bathroom and kissed me, this time with a little more passion. I stood dumbfounded and more than a little love struck as Maria took an electric razor and started shaving my arms and underarms, then unzipped my pants, had me remove them, and proceeded to shave my legs. Then my T- shirt was removed and my chest hair shaved off. Within a matter of minutes, before I fully grasped what this beautiful Mexican lass was doing, almost all my body hair lay on Maria's bathroom floor. Next she took out a straight razor and a can of lotion and instructed me to carefully shave my face, and to go over one more time my legs, chest, and arms. "While you are already smooth enough to fool a man, us girls would notice the stubs. And since a lot of my girlfriends are coming tonight, we need you completely smooth. Now I've got to go to work on getting your clothes ready." With that Maria closed the bathroom door, leaving me alone. I looked into the mirror with a combination of horror and amazement. I already appeared almost feminine. On the one hand I wanted to just leave, but on the other hand, I now wanted Maria even more than ever. With touches and kisses she had hooked me like a fish. After some reflection, I decided, what the heck, it was worth a try. After all, no one would ever know, and she said I could bail out anytime. I proceeded to very carefully shave my face, using Maria's pink razor, and then did the same with my arms and legs, all the while entertaining serious misgivings but also desirous thoughts towards Maria. When I finished I showered and put my clothes back on and stepped out into the hall. "Hold it," Maria shouted. "We're all running a little behind, so I'm sorry if I seem to be rushing you. Won't you forgive me?" "Sure," I replied, ready to forgive her anything for a date. "OK," Maria said, then quickly handed me some clothes. "Go back into the bathroom and put these on. Then come out and we'll get you fitted. And be sure to tuck your thing well out of the way. Not that I would mind, but Patricia, you know, has a fianc? and all." I took the clothes as Maria almost pushed me back into the bathroom and closed the door. She seemed in such a hurry and all that this party must have been important to her; maybe by helping her out she would show me some favors later. I looked at what she had given me. On top was a pair of panties, soft pink in color, and of a strong material like Lycra. These had lace trim forming a triangle in the front. Under that was a matching lacy pink bra, which I recognized as having been one of the bras I washed earlier. Curious about what it would be like, I went ahead and slipped both garments on. The panties were so tight that they held my maleness firmly out of the way. I was looking at myself in the mirror, thinking that I would never let anyone see me like this, when Maria suddenly opened the bathroom door. "Oh, you look just darling! Come out here and let me see," she said as she grabbed my arm and pulled me out to the hallway. "Maria," I said, "I'm sorry, but I don't feel right about this. I think I'll have to pass on the party tonight." "Oh," she said, dismissing my concerns as unimportant, "I need you! And besides, we are almost done now. Here, let's give you some breasts. You've never seen a maid without breasts, have you?" She had put some water into two pink balloons, which she now placed into the cups of the bra I wore. Instantly, I had tits. Next, she took a blond wig and carefully placed it on my head. I now had hair that nearly touched my shoulders, and which had a nice feminine curl to it. I stood there in the hall, feeling like a complete fool and wondering how to get out of this strange situation that Maria had forced me into, when Angela came into the hallway, stopped, stared at me for a few moments, then started giggling. She happened to be carrying a camera with her, so without asking she quickly snapped a few photos of me, looking astonished, wearing only pink lingerie. "Hey," I exclaimed once I gained some composure, "don't take pictures of me looking like this!" "Why not," she answered. "I filled the camera with film for the party tonight, and you are part of the party. Besides, you look kinda cute!" "Kinda cute!," Maria added, "why, I say she looks gorgeous." Then she gave me a big hug and kissed me again. I blushed. No, I didn't like being referred to as "she", but on the other hand, I did like being kissed by Maria. "Now I've got to go to the grocery store for a minute. Why don't you let Angela paint your nails and help you with your makeup." Without waiting for me to respond to her request, Maria left. Always in a hurry, it seemed. "OK," Angela said after Maria had left, "let's get this over with. Before long the guests will be arriving, and we sure don't want you looking like this when that happens. Go into the kitchen." Angela, a very pretty girl, had changed into a short black leather skirt, and a low cut blouse that showed ample cleavage. She wore dark pantyhose but didn't have any shoes on yet. She followed me into the kitchen and then called out to me; as I turned my head she took another snapshot. "This is a bun shot," she laughed. "I just had to get one of your cute little buns! Now sit down at the table." "Wait a minute," I said, having second thoughts, I don't think I want to do this." "Well, when Maria comes back you can argue with her about that. Leave me out of it. But for now we are going to do what Maria wants, so sit down at the table!" I did as she ordered. I didn't want to get into an argument with her when, after all, it was Maria I was helping out here. She had me lay my hands down flat, then used superglue to apply false nails on top of my real ones; then she expertly applied a thick coat of bright red polish. When finished with the first hand, she began on the second. All the while I sat across from her, wearing only a bra and panties. "What's your name," she asked, with a Spanish accent. "Jim", I replied. "Jim," she repeated. "No, you can't be Jim tonight. From this moment on you are Rebecca. After all, you are replacing Rebecca tonight; she was going to be our maid. So, now you are Rebecca. You can let your friends call you Becky, but to me you will remain Rebecca." "I guess that means you are not my friend," I asked Angela, jokingly. "Well," she said matter-of-factly, "I don't even know you, and besides, you are just the maid," she laughed. "Now, hold your hands at your side, fingers straight, and don't touch anything. Look at me and keep your eyes closed." I did what Angela commanded and she proceeded to apply makeup to my face; this seemed to go on for a half hour or more, but I kept silent, hoping Maria would hurry back. I protested a bit when she plucked hair from my brows, but she told me to be quiet or she would cut something off me that I would really miss. I laughed at her "joke", but she acted like she was serious. The final thing she applied was lipstick; I recognized its taste from the times I had made out with Mary. "Stand up, Rebecca," Angela ordered me when she finished, "but be careful not to touch your face for the rest of the night. Girls don't like to smear their makeup." "Well, I'm not a girl," I said forcefully as I stood up. Angela's condescending attitude towards me was making me angry. "Shush," she commanded, "maids don't talk back. Now put this on. You can't stand around in your bra and panties all night, now can you?" She handed me a lacy slip, also pink. With her help I carefully slid it over my new body without smudging my makeup. Angela then stepped back and scrutinized her creation. It felt very odd to have a skirt covering my thighs. "Very nice. You are one sexy senorita, Rebecca." She then took the camera off the table and snapped two more pictures. "Will you quit taking pictures of me," I yelled at Angela. "Shush, girl," she immediately snapped back. "Don't you ever yell at me again! Just because Maria maybe likes you doesn't give you any power over me. You are in my apartment, so behave! And if you don't, you might just see blowups of some interesting photographs posted all over this complex." "OK, OK," I said to her, trying to calm her down. "I'm sorry. I just feel funny dressed like this, that's all." I began to realize that maybe I'd made a big mistake in getting into this. But what could I do now? It was true that Angela could cause me trouble if I crossed her. I decided to follow her orders, but once Maria got back, I would explain to her that I just couldn't go through with this. Maria would understand, and would keep Angela in line. "Rebecca, put these on, and after that I want you to practice walking in Maria's high heels. I'll be in my bedroom getting myself ready, so don't bother me. And by the way, don't you even think of leaving, or else," Angela threatened. "OK," I replied, "I'll do what you want. Don't get so angry." Angela went into her bedroom and closed the door. I had hoped she would leave the camera out, so that I could destroy the film, but instead she took it with her into the bedroom. I imagined that she would change the film and hide the roll which the photos of me. She had handed me a pair of white pantyhose and black open- toed high heels. It took me several minutes to coerce the pantyhose onto my legs. My anger towards Angela grew as I realized she apparently just assumed I would know how to put on pantyhose, as if I were just another girl. That done, I slipped on the high heels. They were too tight; Maria's feet were obviously smaller than mine, even though she was taller than me. The shoes had heels at least two inches high. When I stood and tried to walk, I found myself very wobbly, and forced by the heels to take short, dainty steps. I realized now why women wearing high heels always looked sexy to me: it was because the shoes forced them to walk in such a feminine manner. I walked back and forth through the apartment, eventually getting a little better at it. Walking past the bathroom, I noticed that my own clothes were not there; Angela had moved them, or hid them. This also meant I didn't have keys to either my apartment or to my car. I was trapped, since dressed like this I surely couldn't go to the manager's office to get them to open my apartment door. It was already after five when Maria returned. I was standing in the center of the living room, still wearing the pink lingerie and slip. For a second she stared at me with a look of astonishment, then she rushed over to me and hugged me in the way that girls hug each other. "My, you really turned out nice. I can't thank you enough for saving my party. But you had better get your dress on before guests start arriving!" Maria took my arm and started to lead me towards her bedroom. "Maria," I protested, "I've changed my mind. I can't go through with this. It was stupid of me to volunteer. I'm sorry if I've messed things up for you, but I've got to change back into my own clothes." "Oh, don't worry so much," Maria replied. "You'll do fine. Don't worry. Now come with me. Once you get your uniform on you'll feel much better, I promise. "No, Maria," I said. "I won't do it. I feel totally ridiculous dressed like this. I like you, Maria; in fact I think you are very attractive, which is why I got into this mess. But I will not dress like a girl, and I definitely will not be a maid at your party!" I didn't want to hurt Maria, but my mind was made up. I wasn't going to pretend to be girl all night, and not just a girl, but a maid, of all things! How the hell had I let things get this far? Just then, as I was giving Maria my ultimatum, Angela's bedroom door opened, and she stepped into the hall. She looked beautiful. Her makeup was perfect, her lips bright red, her hair so soft. She still wore the black leather skirt, but now she also wore a red silk blouse and matching red high heels, higher than mine by at least an inch. Her overall look was sexy and tough. "OK, you two," Angela said to us in a very authoritative voice, "we don't have time for games. Our guests will be here in another 30 minutes. This party is important, especially for Patricia, and I don't want either of you to mess things up. Rebecca," she continued, glaring at me, "you are the maid tonight. And that's that. If I hear just one more protest from you, I promise to put photos of your panty-clad fanny in everybody's' hands. And maybe you didn't notice that you have no men's clothes left to wear? "So, Rebecca, tonight you are our maid. You will serve me, Maria, Patricia, and our guests. And throughout the evening you will behave nicely, and you will smile. You will be the perfect, subservient girl." "I can be a real bitch, as Maria knows. So don't push me. And if you try to get physical with us, let me tell you that my boyfriend is real tough, and he can be very mean. So if you are thinking of trying to force me to give you your clothes or your photos, just know that my boyfriend will grind you into hamburger." "If you do a good job, Rebecca, then after the party you may have your other clothes back, and this will all be over, and nobody will see your pretty photos." "Do you have any questions, Rebecca," Angela asked, still glaring at me. I looked towards Maria; she looked surprised but also afraid. Apparently Maria was not one to challenge Angela. I wasn't a fool; I could see I had no options. "No...no..," I stammered, "I'll do what you want." "Good," Angela said to me, "now go with Maria and put your uniform on!" Maria took my hand and led me into her bedroom. Lying on her bed was a black dress which, I presumed, was meant for me. "Sorry about that," Maria said to me in a hushed tone, so that Angela would not overhear us, "I hope you forgive me. But it won't be so bad, believe me. You'll do just fine. Nobody will recognize you. And besides, anything is better than getting Angela mad; she can be really mean, you know. Here, let's slip this pretty dress over your head." Maria held the dress in front of me. It was entirely black, had short sleeves and a fancy white lace collar. It also had lace around the hem. A shiver went through me as I realized that I was in fact the maid, that this was not just a game anymore. "Rebecca is such a pretty name," Maria continued talking as she carefully helped me with the dress, "I'm so happy you chose it. I think you'll get used to it. You look so cute that the name fits you very well! Hold your breath in, Rebecca, while I zip your dress up." I sucked in my stomach. The dress was tight on me. The skirt seemed way too short, at least three inches above my knees. After the dress was secured in place, Maria put a small, lacy white apron around my waist, and tied it in the back into a large bow. She took my hand and led me to the full length mirror. I blushed with embarrassment when I saw what I had become: a pretty, demure young maid, ready to serve. Next, Maria took a small white name tag, on which she had written "Rebecca", and pinned it to my uniform, just above my left breast. "Now, to make you extra special, I will loan you a pair of my earrings," Maria said, gushing with enthusiasm. She took a pair of earrings, gold rings nearly two inches in diameter, clipped them securely onto my ears, and said "these will hurt some. Don't you wish you had pierced ears like most girls do?" I didn't answer; the earrings hung down at least an inch below my ears, and I could feel them jangle when I moved my head. "Oh Rebecca," Maria exclaimed as she stood back and gazed at her creation. "You are so pretty! Now listen: you must answer the door when anyone arrives: first curtsy slightly, then introduce yourself and invite them in. If they have coats, take them and hang them in the closet. There is beer and wine in the kitchen; you must ask our guests their preference and then serve them. And every thirty minutes or so, you must make the rounds with a tray of hors d'oeuvres; Patricia has them in the refrigerator. When you are not busy with those things, you should stay in the kitchen, with the kitchen doors closed. You must not drink any alcohol; that is a no-no for a maid!" "Other than that, just be prepared for anything. If our guests need any assistance, they will summon you. You may want to talk as little as possible, since your voice isn't terribly girlish yet; you'll have to practice that some more." "Tell me...," I stammered, afraid to ask, "will the guests know ... that..., well..., that I'm not a...a...real girl?" "Oh, don't worry so much," Maria laughed, but I noticed she avoided promising to keep my gender a secret from the guests. "Here is a purse. All girls carry purses, you know. You would feel lost without one! I put some things in it for you, like mascara and lipstick, just in case you need to touch up later." She handed me a small white purse and showed me how to set its long strap on my shoulder. "Now," she said after coaching me for a minute or two, "I'll go out and knock on the bedroom door. You answer it as if I were a guest." Maria went out, closed the door, then knocked on it. Apprehensively I opened the door. I did my best imitation of a curtsy, and said in the most feminine pitch I could muster, "Hi, my name is Rebecca. I am the maid, so please let me know if you should need anything at all this evening. Please come in and have a seat in the living room." Maria started giggling. "Oh, you do just great! But you may want to practice your curtsies a bit more. When you bend your knees, you should grasp the hem of your skirt with your fingers, and raise the hem just ever so slightly as your knees bend. Not too high, though; you don't want to show your panties off to our guests," she laughed. "I don't know why maids have to do that, I guess it's just to show subservience. But don't worry, you'll do fine. Now go into the kitchen and practice your curtsies while you wait for the first guest; I have to touch up my own makeup." "Thank you, Maria," I said as I left her room. At this point I felt as if she were my only friend. I was relying on her to help me get through this ordeal. I walked into the kitchen. Patricia was there, finishing with the trays. She stared at me for a moment, as if she couldn't believe what she saw. Even though Patricia was clearly a quiet and shy girl, she couldn't help but smile at the site of this Anglo man transformed into a pretty maid. "Hi Patricia," I said. Too embarrassed to look into her eyes, I instead averted my gaze towards the floor. "Maria told me to wait in the kitchen." Patricia wore a flowered dress, and conservative high heels only about an inch in height. With my high heels on, I was considerably taller than her. "Yes, ah..., Rebecca...," she said haltingly, also embarrassed by the unusual situation, "everything in here is finished. If you can't find anything tonight, come and ask me. And..., by the way...," she continued, apparently not sure how I would take her comments, "you do look very pretty. Prettier than some girls I know." I could tell she meant it as a sincere compliment, so I said "Thank you, Patricia. You are very pretty also." Patricia went to join Angela in the living room, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I practiced my curtsies, watching my reflection in the black surface of the refrigerator. I was extremely nervous, so much that I considered just leaving. But where would I go? I couldn't even get into my apartment. And Angela would see to it that everyone in the apartment would see pictures of me in woman's lingerie. After practicing for ten minutes, I sat down to try and relax my nerves. I set my purse on the table and, hoping Maria had put my keys in it, emptied it out. Inside the purse was a tube of red lipstick, mascara, a compact of face powder, nail polish, and two items wrapped in shiny blue and white paper. I picked up one of the wrapped items and read the print on it; it was a tampon, regular size. I blushed in humiliation as I realized what I was holding. Just at that moment Angela walked in, followed by Maria. Both were surprised to see me sitting at the table, looking as if I were ready to open a tampon. "Gosh," Angela said derisively, "I didn't know you were on your period. We don't want any PMS tantrums tonight, Rebecca!" I quickly put everything back into my little white purse, and said to Maria, "I'm sorry..., I suppose that was yours. I... a... was just looking through the purse. I....a..., didn't realize what it was." "Oh Rebecca, you are as afraid as a little girl," Maria laughed in response. "Don't worry so much. You can use my tampon if you want, I don't mind! I won't spank you or anything!" "Stand up, Rebecca," Angela commanded. "Let me check your uniform." I did as requested, not saying anything. Angela closely looked me over. She lifted the hem of my skirt, saying she wanted to make sure my slip wouldn't show. Then she ordered me to hold a tray as if I were going to serve the guests. Again I did as she commanded; what else could I do? While I stood holding the tray, she took three more photographs of me. "Don't worry, Rebecca," she said, "these photos are for me. Nobody you know will ever see them..., that is, assuming you do good tonight." I could only pray that she would keep her word. Part 3, The Party The kitchen door led directly to the entry foyer, such that while in the kitchen I was also close to the door into the apartment. I was alone in the kitchen for only a few minutes before I heard a knock on the door. I gathered all my strength and tried to focus myself on my new identify, that is, a young female maid. I realized that being a totally convincing maid could limit the humiliation of my position; better the guests take me for a girl in the rather lowly position of maid, than for a male in the degrading job of a female maid. I opened the door. Before me stood two attractive young women: one was Hispanic with dark hair permed into a cascade of tiny curls, wearing a tight blue dress and matching high heels; the other an Anglo girl with long, light brown hair and blue eyes, wearing a beige blouse, white slacks, and flats. "Hi," I said in as steady, feminine a voice as I could, while slightly bending my knee and holding the sides of my skirt in my now well-practiced curtsy, "my name is Rebecca. I am the maid. If either of you should need anything tonight, just ask me. Angela, Maria, and Patricia are in the living room; please follow me." Both girls' eyes opened wide, obviously surprised to find such formality at what they thought a simple get together. "Well, thank you, Rebecca," the Anglo girl said to me, "you are indeed a well trained maid! My name is Donna, and my friend's name is Suzy." "I'm very pleased to meet you both," I replied, then led them into the living room. As we entered Maria and Angela were sitting on the couch, and Patricia was putting a CD in the player; all turned to watch how I did. Because Angela was obviously the boss in this house, I turned to her and said, "Miss Angela, Donna and Suzy have arrived." I then turned to the new arrivals and asked, "May I get you anything, perhaps some wine?" "No thank you, Rebecca, but maybe a little later," Donna said. Thankful I did not have to serve them yet, I turned and walked in short, dainty steps back towards the kitchen; once I reached the entry foyer I could hear my heels click against the hard floor. I overheard Donna say to someone, "My, where did you get the fancy maid? I've never seen anything like her before. She could be a maid on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous!" I heard the others laugh at the joke; once I closed the kitchen door I could no longer hear them. Well, I thought to myself, I've passed the first test. Maybe I can make it through this. Just then their was another knock at the door; I pulled together my composure and walked to the door and opened it. This time a young married couple was at the door; the wife was Hispanic, very cute, barely over five feet tall, with hair gathered into a pony tail. She was casually dressed in a yellow T-shirt and jeans. Her husband, taller and husky, also wore jeans. The wife carried a young baby in one hand, and her purse and diaper bad in the other. Her husband was apparently too macho to help her. "Hi," I said again as I managed a feminine curtsy, "my name is Rebecca. I am the maid. If you should need anything tonight, please ask me. Angela, Maria, and Patricia are in the living room; please follow me." Both of them looked at me strangely. The man laughed and said, "Hey, I've never seen a maid anywhere but at hotels. I guess Angela must have won the lottery." His wife looked at me for a second or two, then said, "Rebecca, please carry my purse and the baby's bag." It became apparent that these guests would be more difficult to serve than the other two. I did as commanded, taking the large diaper bag (pink background with red and yellow flowers) and her brown leather purse, then leading them into the living room. Maria smiled as she saw me carrying the baby bag and purse, but didn't say anything. After the mother had sat down I handed her the purse. I was going to hand her the diaper bag when Angela spoke up. "Rebecca, you may help Josie out tonight by helping to care for her little baby. Please take the diaper bag into the kitchen." "Yes, ma'am," I replied. "Wait," Josie said, "I smell something. I'm afraid I'll have to change the baby first." "Oh, don't worry," Angela said, "Rebecca can do that. Besides, she needs the practice, as she's planning to become a new mother soon, isn't that so, Rebecca?" I blushed. Angela was making this difficult for me, the bitch. "Yes, ma'am," I replied, not wanting to contradict Angela, "I hope to." "Are you married," Donna asked. "No Ma'am, I'm not married yet," I replied uneasily. "Well don't worry, Rebecca," Angela laughed, "as cute as you are, it won't be long before a handsome man knocks you up!" Josie handed me the baby, which I held close to my new breasts. Maria quickly took the diaper bag and said, "I'll go to the kitchen and help Rebecca change the baby's diaper. Please excuse us." "Thanks, Rebecca," Josie said. I was still blushing as Maria and I went into the kitchen. "Sorry, Rebecca, Angela is being mean, isn't she? But tell me, do you really have a boyfriend or something? I mean, you can't really want to be a mother, can you?" "Of course not, Maria," I said, almost in tears. "But what could I say? Why is Angela making fun of me. Has she told everybody already?" "Told everybody what," Maria asked. "You know..., that I'm not a..., a girl," I stammered. "Oh, don't worry," she laughed. "If you think you're a girl, then you're a girl. Gosh, Rebecca, no one's gonna lift your skirt and pull down your panties just to see whether you're a real girl or not! Besides, as far as I'm concerned, you are a very pretty girl. So quit worrying, I'll take care of you!" Her answer, ambiguous as it was, managed to calm my nerves a bit. In a way I actually felt glad that she called me a pretty girl; this from a girl who just hours earlier I had hoped to ask out. How everything had changed so suddenly! I, the macho neighbor seeking to get into his neighbor's pants, had instead gotten into her panties. Now I was a helpless young lady needing Maria to protect me. Together Maria and I managed to change the baby. "Just in case you have to do it later, when I'm not around, you had better learn how," Maria said. "You know, she continued, speaking to me as if I were a girlfriend instead of the guy next door, "I've always wanted to be a mother. I used to play dolls when I was just a little girl, and practice changing my dolly's diapers. How about you, Rebecca, did you ever dress up and play mommy when you were little?" "No, Maria," I protested, "I'm a guy, after all. Don't you remember?" "I'm sorry, Rebecca," she replied. "I'm not making fun of you, really I'm not. It's just that you look so much like a girl now, you know,...and I've read about sissy boys who really do dress up in girls clothes. I just thought maybe you were like that." Just then there was another knock at the door, abruptly ending this conversation. I began to realize that I had little chance of ever making it with Maria; she didn't even consider me a man, apparently! So all of this, this whole effort of mine, was wasted. I ended up as a maid solely because of my desire for Maria, and now it was obvious that she has no sexual feelings towards me. "Rebecca, you get the door, and I'll take the baby back to Josie," Maria said. She cuddled the baby and walked back to the living room as I apprehensively went to open the door. This time there were three Hispanic men at the door, all about my age. Trying hard to channel my energy into the task of being a typical maid, I again did my routine. "Hello," I said, diverting my gaze towards the floor, and again managing to accomplish a little-girl type of curtsy, "my name is Rebecca. I am the maid. If any of you should need anything tonight, just ask me. Angela, Maria, and Patricia are in the living room; please follow me." All three men stared at me, somewhat dumbfounded. Then the one in front, who was the tallest of the three at maybe six foot, smiled and said, "Rebecca, is it? So when did Angela hire a maid, and an Anglo maid at that? That little movement you just did was cute. Why don't you do it again?" The man in me wanted to tell this macho smart-aleck where to get off, but now the man in me was almost extinguished, smothered by layers of feminine clothes and makeup. Besides, were these three to discover my real identity, I would probably be beaten. So I swallowed my pride, smiled sweetly, and with one high heel placed slightly in front of the other, I gracefully flexed my knees while at the same time I held the hem of my dress between my thumb and index finger. "May I take you to the living room, please," I said to the three men. "Well, girl, you can take me to either the living room or to the bedroom," the tall man said. All three laughed at the joke. They apparently had been drinking some before arriving. When we reached the living room the tall one went over to Angela and gave her a big kiss, right in front of everyone. He apparently was the boyfriend Angela had told me about. But, to my surprise, one of the other men sat next to Maria, so close that their bodies touched, and then took her hand in his and whispered some words to her. She kissed him on the mouth, and from the way her eyes closed during the kiss, I could tell there was obviously something between these two. So, Maria had a boyfriend! She had, knowingly or not, led me on to expect that some mutual attraction existed between us, but she was already taken! I stood at the entry to the living room, somewhat dazed by what I saw. "Rebecca, will you quit staring at Maria and Tony, and go bring some refreshments to us," Angela commanded. "Why, the way you look, one would think you're jealous of Maria." Then turning towards Maria, she continued, "You had better watch out, Maria, I think Rebecca may have the hots for your man!" Everybody laughed lightly, assuming that Angela was just kidding around. Maria, her kiss interrupted, looked at me with an embarrassed "I'm sorry" expression. I quickly turned and went to the kitchen. I felt humiliated and deceived, and yes, jealous too. But jealous of Tony, not Maria. I took a tray that Patricia had prepared earlier, returned to the living room, and started to circulate among the guests, saying "Would you like an hors d'oeuvre, ma'am" or "Would you care for an hors d'oeuvre sir." After about ten minutes I reached Maria and Tony, who were still cuddling and speaking to each other in whispers, like young lovers do. "Maria," I said softly, trying to hide my hurt, "would you care for any hors d'oeuvres." Interrupted from her petting session, she looked up at me with surprise; her lipstick was smudged. "Ah..., why thank you, Rebecca," she replied haltingly. "You are doing a very good job..., you're a great maid, Rebecca. "Thank you, ma'am," I replied, thinking of how I would rather be holding her and kissing her, than serving her as a maid. "Ah.., Rebecca..., this is Tony, my boyfriend. Tony, this is Rebecca. She's been very sweet to help us out with the party tonight." "Hi, Rebecca," Tony said. "That uniform makes you look kinda sexy, you know!" "Tony!, you stop that. No flirting with the hired help, mister," Maria exclaimed only partly in jest. "Tony," I said politely, "I'm pleased to meet you. Would you like an hors d'oeuvres?" After they had each taken a finger sandwich I was eager to get away from them and let them go back to their romance. To Maria I was not a suitor, I was just hired help wearing her clothes. And to Tony, I was definitely not a rival for Maria's passions; no, he saw me as just a cute maid to tease. After serving hors d'oeuvres I served drinks. Also, three more couples arrived. Between answering the door and serving the guests, I was kept too busy to ponder upon my degradation. About an hour and a half passed. Other than Patricia, everyone present was drinking. Angela put some disco on the CD and she and her boyfriend began to dance. Several other couples followed. I was clearing out some empty glasses and plates when Josie motioned me to her. "Rebecca," she said, "my husband and I would like to dance. Would you please hold the baby?" When I hesitated in responding, she added, "Please! You are so good with children, I just know you'll make a great mother someday!" Josie, trying to compliment me, had instead embarrassed me. I blushed, but took the baby from her, and a bottle of milk. As I sat down the hem of my short skirt rode up so that my thighs were showing, my lacy pink slip was showing, and possibly even my panties, but since my hands were occupied with the baby, I was unable to straighten my skirt. Nor, with the baby on my lap, could I cross my legs. So I sat there, holding my knees tightly together, rocking the baby while feeding her milk, as the party got louder. The baby seemed oblivious to it all. In a way it was very relaxing to just sit there caring for the baby; I soon realized how a young mother could find such a mundane task to be very rewarding. About fifteen minutes passed. The music stopped while Angela looked for more CDs to dance to. Maria and Tony passed by; Maria looked down at me, sitting there with the child, and said "Oh, Rebecca, you look so nice there. You really should have been a girl..., I mean mother! You should be a mother! You would make a perfect mother to a baby like that, you know!" Damn, I thought to myself, she had almost let my secret out. If she keeps drinking, I'm in trouble. "Thank you, Maria," I said, smiling girlishly. Just then the music started up; Angela had put on a slow song. One of Tony's friends walked up to us and said to Maria: "Say, this is nice dancing music. Maria, why don't you hold the baby so that Rebecca and I can dance?" I felt all my nerves instinctively tense up. Damn! How did I get into this mess. I glanced towards Maria with a frightened look on my face; she appeared both surprised and amused by my dilemma. "No..., I'm sorry," I stuttered, unsure of just what to say, "I've got to work here..., I'm the maid..., I'm not allowed to dance...." Maria laughed. "Oh, go ahead, Rebecca, no one will care! Here, give me your little baby, and you get up and dance with Antonio. Have some fun, girl!" Obviously feeling the wine she had been drinking, Maria giggled as she took the little baby from my lap. I didn't know what to do. I sure wasn't going to dance with a guy, of all things, but how could I get out of it? Refusing him would raise more attention than going along with the flow. Antonio didn't ask me again; he just reached down and grasped my hand, led me up from the chair, and out into the open area of the room where the other couples were dancing. I blushed as Maria, amused, watched me being taken away by Antonio. Antonio put his arms around me and we danced; it was a slow song, which was good, because I had no experience dancing in high heels. Antonio led; I followed. After I calmed down and relaxed a bit I was able to move fairly gracefully with the music. I remembered Maria's advice: if I think I'm a girl, then I'm a girl. Who's to say otherwise? Not that I wanted to be a girl, but at this moment I had to either be female or be in big trouble as a male masquerading in women's clothing. I saw Patricia, sitting on the couch with her boyfriend, watching us wide-eyed. I could understand her astonishment; even had I been a real girl it would have been an unusual sight: a tall blond maid in high heels, wearing a sexy black maid's uniform with a frilly white apron, dancing with a young Hispanic man. But to Patricia it was even more amazing, after all, she knew that up until a few hours ago I had been just a typical young man. Luckily Angela had left the room; she and her boyfriend had gone to her bedroom to play. "Thank you, Antonio, I enjoyed that," I said demurely when the song ended, "but now I really must get busy with my work. After all, I am the maid here, not a guest." He led me back over to where Maria, smiling so beautifully, was sitting with the baby. "OK, Rebecca," Antonio said, "I'll let you get back to being a maid, but only if you give me a kiss first. Come here. Just one kiss." Maria looked up, winked at me and giggled. My mind tried to focus on getting out of this predicament, but it went blank. What were my options? All girls learn at a young age how to graciously resist advances from boys, but I wasn't a girl. I did not understand the subtleties of the fairer sex. To a male, a girl who doesn't say no is actually saying yes. Again, my hesitation in responding was taken by Antonio to mean that I would submit. He gently pulled me close to him, put his arms around my waist, and kissed me on the mouth. I couldn't just stand there like a rag doll, so I kissed him back. "Oh Rebecca," Maria called to me after the embrace ended, "what a sexy scene, girl. You two are getting me all hot!" She started giggling again as she resumed caring for the baby. I went around the room, gathering up empty plates and glasses to take to the kitchen. The kitchen doors closed and suddenly it was quiet. I could hear my heart pounding. After setting the dirty dishes down I went to my white purse and took out the compact, opened it, and using the compact's mirror I touched up my lipstick and added a little powder. The party would be over soon; with care and adequate makeup, I could avoid discovery. Part 4, Acceptance Grateful to be by myself for awhile, I made a fresh pot of coffee, then washed the glasses and plates, all the while being careful not to stain my frilly white apron or break my false fingernails. I heard the front door open and a number of people leave. I began to relax; it was almost over. "Rebecca!" I heard Angela call to me, "Rebecca! Please serve coffee!" "Yes, Ma'am, I'll be right there," I called to her out the kitchen door. I closed my eyes for a second to psyche myself into my role, then put cups and saucers onto the tray, poured the coffee, and carried the tray into the living room. All the men had left; only women remained in the living room. The baby girl lay sleeping on the couch. Maria sat closest to the living room entrance, so I went to her first. My heart ached as I looked at her, so young, beautiful, and happy. "Maria," I asked, "would you like coffee?" "Why yes, thank you," she gushed, smiling sweetly at me. "Rebecca, you have done such a good job tonight. You make an absolutely wonderful maid! I really appreciate your help, you know." "Thank you, ma'am," I replied. With Maria, I could tell she actually meant it; she wasn't putting me down. Maria said the guys had went to the apartment complex's recreation center to shoot pool for a while. So I went around the room, offering coffee to each girl, one by one. They mostly ignored me as they talked animatedly about girl things, including Patricia's engagement, which of their friends was seeing who, which of their friends were pregnant, where they bought their dresses, and so on. And of course they discussed men: this man was "sooo good looking" and that man's legs were "sooo muscular"; some of the girls were even more graphic, particularly Angela as she described in detail the hard-on her boyfriend had when she was dancing with him. I felt embarrassed as I listened in on all this, a male eavesdropping on a "for ladies only" discussion, but not even Maria, Patricia or Angela seemed to care that I was present. Maria, quite tipsy from several glasses of wine, broke out laughing when Angela described how she could feel her boyfriend's penis throb as he held her close to him during the slow dances. "Rebecca," Maria asked loudly between fits of giggles, "did you feel Antonio's penis while you two were dancing? I saw how close he held you!" She started laughing uncontrollably again. Having just finished serving coffee, I was standing in the middle of the room, with young ladies seated all around me. I blushed bright red in embarrassment. Maria, I thought to myself, why did you have to bring me into this conversation? Everything had been going so smoothly; the evening was almost over. "What," Angela exclaimed in feigned amazement, "Rebecca was dancing with Antonio?" "Not only that, Angela," Maria added, "Antonio gave Rebecca a big smoochie kiss. It was so neat!" "Well, I'll be," Angela said, talking like a mother would to a daughter caught in the act of something naughty. "Did you know, girls," she continued, addressing all present, "that our pretty maid, Rebecca, just happens to have a little penis of her own, well hidden beneath her pink panties, that is." "No way," said Josie, while the other guests looked at Angela like she had had a little to much wine. "It's true! Tell them, Rebecca, don't you have a penis. Tell them the truth, Rebecca." Utterly humiliated, I looked towards Maria hoping she would help me out of this mess, but she was still giggling. "Yes, I suppose so," I quietly replied, casting my eyes down towards the floor. All the girls started laughing; Donna walked over to me and looked closely at my face, ran her finger along my cheek, and announced "Yes, I feel a bit of whiskers; it must be true, Rebecca's not a woman!" "Of course it's true," Angela announced with certitude. "Rebecca, lift up your skirt and show us your panties." "No, Angela, I can't do that," I pleaded. "Do it, Rebecca. Do it now! OR ELSE!" I knew what was implied in Angela's command. If I didn't do whatever she said, who knows what could happen. Hell, if the men found out what the girls now knew, I would be beaten, for sure. I hesitated for a moment, and Angela again commanded me to raise my skirt. "Yes, ma'am," I said with an air of resignation. Gently grasping the hems of both my skirt and my slip between my fingers, I raised both to the level of my breasts. My pink panties were fully visible to all; luckily they were made of such tight spandex material that they effectively hid my manhood. The girls all laughed about it; one commented "My, those are the prettiest panties I've ever seen on a boy", and another said, "Oh, look at his legs! So smooth and sexy!". Josie said, "MY husband would NEVER wear panties, thank god!". As I stood there showing off my panties like a naughty five year old girl, Angela walked over to me, crouched down in front of me as if she were closely inspecting my panties, and announced to all, "Look, girls! There is something in there, and it's definitely not a vagina! " Pointing at my crotch, she added, "though it's not very big, either. Let's just call it an itsy bitsy penis. Or, better yet, let's call it a shenis! Rebecca doesn't have a penis, she has a shenis!" "Angela," Maria broke in, "don't tease Rebecca!" Then Donna, the only Anglo girl present, came up and knelt down beside Angela. "Well," she said, as she also inspected my panties in feigned seriousness, "I don't like the idea of white boys dressing up like maids. I mean, like what are all you Mexican girls going to think of us Anglos, if our men go around wearing frilly dresses and high heels! Now Rebecca, tell me the truth, are you a girl or not?" "Yes, ma'am..., I mean, no..", I replied, flustered by the pressure. "Yes you are a girl, and no you are not a girl? Well than, what are you," Donna continued her interrogation. "I'm not a girl. I'm not a girl!" I protested. "Well, Rebecca, if you're not a girl, then why are you wearing pink panties? White boys are not supposed to go around wearing pink panties, are they, Rebecca? Nor, for that matter, high heels, dresses, and makeup." "No, ma'am," I replied to Donna. "Well," Josie interrupted, "Mexican boys don't go around in dresses! In the barrio, boys are macho, not sissies!" New mother Josie clearly didn't like the idea of a man trying to cross over into a woman's role. "OK, everyone," Angela entered the discussion again, "let's settle this once and for all. The only way we can decide this is to have Rebecca lower her panties. Does everybody agree?" "No," Maria said, "Leave Rebecca alone. She's a very nice person. She was only trying to help me out with this party." "Yes! Yes! Make Rebecca show us her vagina, or whatever is there under her pink panties," Josie shouted. Donna, who together with Angela appeared to be the leaders in the room, said "I agree with Josie. After all, Rebecca was dancing with a guy and kissing a guy, just like a real girl. So, we must see if she's a girl, don't you think, Angela?" "No," I said emphatically, cutting into the girls' discussion, "No, I won't do it! I've told you what I am, now please let me be!" "Rebecca," Angela said sternly, "you must do as I say, or else! Don't you understand that? None of us girls will hurt you, I promise. Just pull your panties down for a moment, that's all, and then we'll let you be. It's no big deal; whatever you have, whether it's a vagina or a penis, it can't be something that we haven't seen before." "Josie," Angela continued, "come over here and hold one side of Rebecca's skirt up, and I'll hold the other side up, so that Rebecca's hands are free to pull her panties down." "Angela, please...," I pleaded, to no avail. Josie stood to the left of me holding my hem, still at breast level, and Angela did the same on my right side. There I stood in my high heels, with two girls holding my skirt up, and Donna still kneeling only a couple of feet in front of me. Patricia was sitting at the table, looking pensive; she had not been laughing and encouraging the others. She appeared to feel sorry for me. Maria, having failed in her attempt to protect me, was standing a few feet away, watching the proceedings and smiling. Maria didn't think it any big deal that I would do such a thing. Suzy sat coyly on the couch, watching in amusement. The other three young Hispanic girls present were all laughing and having a good time. I decided that I had better do what Angela wanted so as to get this over with. After all, the guys could return any minute and catch me like this. I blushed as I lowered my hands to grasp the tops of my panties and pantyhose. A few of the girls were cheering me on, as I slowly pushed the tight pink panties down. It was difficult to do under such circumstances, but slowly they went down, down, until they reached the middle of my thighs. I pressed my legs together out of modesty, but that just made me look more feminine. After lowering my panties I put my hands up and covered my face. For several moments I stood like that, my face covered by my girlish hands with their long painted nails, the skirt of my dress held high, my panties and pantyhose bunched up around my thighs, my legs shaved smooth, my open-toed high heels revealing my painted toenails. And between my waist and my lowered panties I was naked, naked in front of nine pretty young ladies. My maleness, due to my nerves being stressed and also because of the squeezing effect of the tight panties, had shrunk to near nothing. Josie was the first to speak. "Well that isn't a vagina, so Rebecca can't be a girl, no matter how much she wants to be one!" "True, girls, that's not a vagina. But is it a real penis? I mean, it looks so small. My boyfriend's is much larger than that thing is," Angela announced matter-of-factly. Josie quickly added, "My husband's penis is also much bigger than Rebecca's." Maria, taking my side, said, "Come on, you all, Rebecca's penis is actually rather cute." "Oh. Does that mean that Tony's penis is the same size as Rebecca's," Angela asked Maria. "Oh, no," Maria giggled, "Tony's is a lot bigger than Rebecca's. I know, cause I've held it in my hands. But Tony is a big man. It's not fair to compare him with Rebecca, is it?" But apparently comparing was OK, because each girl, in turn, announced that her boyfriend's penis was larger than mine; understandably such talk did not cause any swelling; if anything, the humiliation caused it to shrink more. "Well," I heard Donna say, "I surely don't want to touch that thing, but we really must check it out a little further, for scientific reasons, that is." Worried over what she planned, I lowered my hands from my face, whereup