Fred's Day In Petticoats free porn video

Hello, my name is Fred. First let me describe me as I was when I was 14. This is of course biased since it is both from my perspective and written over 40 years after I was 14. I lived in a small town, it was summer, and I was an outdoor kid. I often slept in a tent in the back yard or up on the hill, always with my dog, Scamp. I spent six hours a day swimming in the town pool. I wore only a bathing suit all day long, even on cool days, unless my activities specifically required otherwise. I was brown from the sun. I was not very big or strong. I was known for being book smart and completely un-athletic. I lived with my Mom. Dad was long gone and I was the only kid. I actually saw her very little, she worked long hours and I spent very little time at home anyway. Our home was rather small and drab; Mom didn't make too much money. My best friend (or should I say accomplice) was Alan, he was 13. He and I were the neighborhood terrors. We made bombs, discovered that you could ignite the tar in the road on a hot day, and we committed minor crimes. But we never caused pain or great expense to our victims. He had a sister, Ginger who was 18 or so. She was a favorite among the boys due to her friendly ways. Behind her back they called her "scab ass", still not exactly sure what this means, but it was probably not a compliment. She and I kind of quietly disliked each other. Alan's parents worked all day too. But with two working parents, they had a rather nice big house. One cool morning I went over to Alan's house at about 8:30. In keeping with my usual bad habit, I just walked in without knocking. Alan was not a morning person; I was going up to his room to drag him out of bed, there was trouble for us to get into. I had pocket full of balloons just perfect for filling with water, who would our victims be? Instead, I found myself face to face with his sister Ginger in the living room at the bottom of the stairs. She was trying to look threatening; probably because several days earlier I had walked into the house and caught Ginger and Jim in bed. They went nuts yelling at me and I left rather fast. She was worried about who I might tell. I had told no one, at least not yet, but it did seem like a good bit of ammunition to keep in reserve. I was cocky with my position of power over her. In truth, I had also been and still was a bit upset by the experience of seeing what they were doing. It was all upsetting to me because my sexual knowledge and experiences were rather limited. My mother was of the "good boys don't do that" school and there wasn't much in the way of sex education in school back then either. I was also a bit intimidated by sexual issues since my puberty was a bit late. I was over 14 years old, but still hairless and small. I had just started to experience occasional erections, mostly at night. My immaturity was further emphasized by the fact that Jim, whom I had caught in bed with Ginger, was actually younger than I was. Jim was apparently fully developed. Ginger, in her normal demure way, started yelling and accusing me of being a snooping little asshole. She told me that if I ever said anything that Jim would pound me (would have been easy for him) and besides, she said, that I couldn't prove a thing. As I began my snotty comeback, my bathing suit was pulled down from behind. In my panic to not be naked, I grabbed for the suit, turned and pulled away all at once. I was then falling, perhaps tripped. As I turned and fell I saw that three of Ginger's friends had snuck up behind me (easy to do when shielded by Ginger's yelling). There I was, on the floor with my legs in the air, feet suspended in my bathing suit that was held aloft by Karen. I lunged toward my feet to pull my suit back on, but my arms were grabbed by Ginger and Nancy. I yanked as hard as I could to free myself, trying to kick free of Karen's grasp but Janet went to Karen's aid and soon my legs were free but I was without my sandals and bathing suit. With Janet's help, Karen was soon sitting on my legs and Janet either fell or intentionally landed on my stomach knocking the wind out of me. This ended the struggle. With the action over, Janet got off of my mid section. Karen then turned to face me as she continued to sit on my legs. All of a sudden, with a squeal of excitement she shouted, "Look, he just has a tiny baby wee wee." I had never been naked around girls and I had never had girls restraining me. Not sure exactly why but my penis started to get hard. This really got Karen and the rest of the gang going. The sport of the moment became laughing at my hardening lack of development. I was very embarrassed and just wanted to go hide. So, I apologized for catching Ginger with Jim and promised to never say a thing. I then pleaded to be let go so I could leave. They were having too much fun to even notice my offer of silence and plea to be gone. They finally began to slow down and then got off of me. I stood up and made a move to get my bathing suit but I was blocked by Karen who then picked up my bathing suit. I started to get angry but quickly realized that they were all bigger than I was and there were four of them. So, I gritted my teeth and asked nicely (or at least trying to be nice) for my bathing suit. They taunted the red faced rage that I was trying to control, "Is the little baby getting mad?" Karen was the really mean one. She had pulled off the bathing suit, made fun of my penis, and blocked me from recovering my bathing suit. Ginger was pretty mean too, but I was used to that from her. Janet seemed to stay back a bit. Nancy seemed very amused. I was very angry, humiliated, and afraid. I just wanted to get my clothing back and to leave. This was one of the worst messes that I had ever been in. I needed to get out of there. I pulled myself together and in as smooth and even a voice as possible said, "Karen, may I please have my bathing suit back?" Karen looked at my genitals and then at the suit and then back to my genitals. She said, "There seems to be a problem, this is a man's bathing suit, but he sure doesn't look much like a man." She then continued to Ginger, "Do you have an old girls bathing suit that might fit this little sissy?" What was already very bad was getting worse. I kind of started to panic and yelled, "You can't keep me here, give me my suit and let me go or you will all be in big trouble." Karen said, "Oh, you want to go?" Following Karen's lead, they started to push me, still naked, out of the living room, through the kitchen, toward the back door. As they did, still led by Karen, they discussed their side of the story about finding this little pervert naked in the house and how he ran outside naked when found. They also mentioned that it would be the word of the four of them against me. They talked about getting their story straight and how no one would ever believe the neighborhood terror. They said that I was free to leave. I resisted at the door and begged, "Please do not push me out the door like this." They stopped and seemed to look to Karen for guidance. Karen and Ginger whispered a bit, they both giggled, then Ginger left the room, and I heard her bounding up the stairs. Ginger skipped back into the room almost breathless with giggles. She was waving a piece of pink shinny cloth over her head. As she got closer I could see that it was a pair of fancy underpants with lace trim. Ginger giggled, "Sorry, I lost your bathing suit, but I found these instead." I sort of froze and shook my head "no." Karen said, "It is either the pretty nylon panties for the little sissy to wear in here or naked outside." Karen took the panties from Ginger and held the panties at my feet. A thousand thoughts tumbled inside my head at once. Both Ginger and Karen kept saying that the more I resisted them the worse it would get. They discussed pushing me out the door naked, throwing the panties out after me, and screaming to the neighbors that I was caught trying on their panties. They did not just force the panties on me, they probably could have. I just had to get away... make it stop. There I stood, surrounded by giggling girls, shaking with fear, and fighting to not break out crying. In a trembling voice I said, "Ok, ok" and lifted one foot to accept the panties. But Karen clearly understood the concept of psychological victory. She stood and handed me the panties. Still trembling and just barely able to hold back the sobbing that could have so easily overtaken me; I bent over and started to put them on. As I pulled them up, I noticed that the nylon was very smooth and caused a funny sensation on my legs. As I was tucking my little erection into the panties, the laughter and taunting reached a new peak. Standing there in the pink lace panties, I was feeling completely defeated, confused, scared, and humiliated. My mind raced looking for a way out, but found none. As my captors gradually ended their laughing fits, Ginger told me that her mother had taken the day off to take Alan to an out of town doctor appointment and back to school shopping. They would not be back till evening. I knew that Alan's father would be home by 5:30 or so. Ginger said that we would all have a great time today and then she would have enough on me to keep me quiet forever. Karen looked down at the pink panties with the bulge in the front and said, "We can't have our little sissy running around in her underwear all day." Ginger perked up and started to giggle again, through the giggles she said, "That big walk-in closet is just full of my old things, come on, let's go upstairs." The girls started for the living room (to the stairs) and I remained motionless, I did not want to see what was in the closet. Karen spun around, grabbed my arm, and said, "Oh, you've decided to go out doors instead?" As she started to shove me toward the door, I said, "Ok," and turned toward the living room to go upstairs. My panic, anger, and confusion were slowing giving way to submission. It was an unlikely procession going up the stairs; me in the pink lacey panties followed by four giggling girls. They took me into Ginger's room. It was a place that I had been many times, but never when Ginger was around. They told me to go sit on the bed and they went into a large walk- in closet that was used for storage. As they giggled in the closet, I decided that I could escape if I could only get something to wear. As we came upstairs, I looked for but did not see my bathing suit. I slid the panties off and tiptoed out the door to go to Alan's room to get some shorts. My plan was to then go out the window, as we had done many times before. I pulled on a pair of Alan's shorts and went to the window. As I pushed I noticed two things, the lingering odor of fresh paint and that the window would not budge. I pushed as hard as I could, I started to panic, but it would not open. Karen screamed, "Our sissy has escaped." As she ran down the hall she glanced into Alan's room and saw me. Soon all four of them crowded the doorway. Karen said, "Little sissy too weak to open the window?" I was caught. Karen said, "Off with the shorts and back to the bedroom." I took off the shorts and walked back into Ginger's room. I sat on the bed, and started to pull the panties back on. Ginger told me to stop. Hope came to me; they were done with their game. Then I noticed that she was holding a white thing made out of lace with lace straps and... Oh, with buckles on the end of the straps just like my mother had on her girdle to hold stockings up. But this looked very flimsy compared to what my mother had. Ginger came over to me and told me to stand. I removed my foot from the panty and stood, the quick rush of hope that they were done with me was gone. Ginger said, "You need to put your garter belt and stockings on before your panties." She handed me the garter belt and instructed me on how to put it on. I don't know if it was being naked and surrounded by girls or the lace of the garter belt tickling me, but my penis started to get hard again. In my nude shame, I actually looked forward to putting the panties back on. Karen grabbed a stocking and demonstrated pulling it up and getting it hooked to the garter belt. The girls were really enjoying this, what a great laugh. Karen then gave me the other stocking and I resumed my role as entertainer as I struggled with this new skill. The stockings felt different than anything that I had ever felt, the sensation was actually nice, but it could not be enjoyed in this situation, not like this. When the other stocking was on, I became aware of my nakedness and bent over to get the panties. Karen stepped on them as my hand started to pick them up. I sat back up and tried to cover myself with my hand. This was actually a mistake; it played right into what Karen was thinking. She said, "Is the little sissy embarrassed about his tiny wee wee, does he want to put on his pretty pink panties back on to cover it up?" Part of me wanted to attack, to just rip Karen apart. But there I was, wearing a garter belt and stockings surrounded by... three girls? Karen said, "If you want to have your pretty pink lacey panties back, you must ask me really nice." I noticed that Ginger was gone. I flushed and shook and said nothing, how could I possibly ask for such a thing. There had to be a way out of this. From behind, Ginger said, "If you don't do it fast I will push the button." I turned to see her aiming a camera straight at me. It was aimed at me and I was wearing a garter belt, stockings, and had an erect penis. I turned to Karen and said, "May I please have the panties?" Karen said, "They are not 'the' panties, they are 'your' panties and they are not just 'panties', they are 'pretty pink lacey panties'." I then turned a bit redder, shook at bit more, and then said, "May I please have my pretty pink lacey panties." The room exploded in laughter and she must have decided that I gave in too easily and she said, "Why do you want them, will they look pretty on you? Are they just right for the little sissy? Tell me why you want them." I froze for a second and Ginger said, "Shall I push the button?" There was no way out, in a shaky voice I mumbled, "I want my pretty pink lacey panties because they will look so pretty on me." When the laughing stopped, Karen said that she didn't clearly hear me, so I tried to steady my self and my voice and I said it again. As they laughed even harder, she handed them to me and I put them on. Ginger, Nancy, and Janet went back to the closet and Karen stayed with me. At first I thought that this was just to prevent my escape, but then Karen came close and whispered to me. Karen told me that I had better always be appreciative of what she was doing for me. She said that I must be enthusiastic and eager and thankful or there would be consequences. She told me that when I was asked any questions, she had better get a sissy little girl answer or I would be sorry. She said that I was to use little girl words, that I was a pretty sissy. She said that kicking me out of the house, saying that they caught me trying on dresses and that I got scared and ran sounded like great fun. She then gave me an example, she said that if she asked me if I wanted to wear the pink panties, a good answer would be, "Yes please, I just love to get to wear pink lace panties, they make me feel so pretty, thank you." Ginger came out of the closet and opened her dresser and took out a bra. She explained to Karen that there were no old ones in the closet but that she was happy to share. She turned to me and asked if I would like to wear it, under Karen's piercing stare I softly said, "Yes please." Karen continued to give me the evil eye and said, "Yes what?" Tentatively I said, "I really would like to wear that pretty bra." Karen smiled with satisfaction as Ginger handed the bra to me and instructed me on how to put it on. She then handed me two socks to stuff inside of it. Ginger returned to the closet. Karen giggled and complimented me on having a very pretty figure. A moment later the others returned and upon seeing my new figure were full of laughter and taunts. My new shape was hard to ignore, this wasn't just girl's clothing, it was a change in body image. Even when looking straight ahead, I could see the bulge on my chest. Ginger held out something white and silky and asked me if I wanted to wear a slip. I glanced at Karen and said, "Yes, I would just love to wear a pretty slip." She handed it to me and I spent a moment figuring which way was up and while handling it was surprised at how smooth and slippery it felt. When I was pulling the slip over my head and onto me, the nylon slip over the nylon stockings caused another new but not unpleasant sensation. The girls then mocked while I tried to adjust the shoulder straps of the slip as they instructed. In a similar fashion I asked with 'great enthusiasm' to wear a blouse and skirt. The blouse was white and obviously feminine; the skirt was made out of a silky material, had blue with white flowers, and hung below my knees. Ginger went to the closet and returned with several pairs of shoes. After holding several to my feet for a size check, I was outfitted with a plain black shoe with a small buckled strap and a low heel. Ginger laughed saying that of course the ones that fit were her first little girl heels. Karen then said, "We just dressed you, what do you have to say?" I said, "Thank you so much for the skirt and blouse." Karen looked mean and said, "And why do you like them and what kind of skirt and blouse is it and what are you for wanting them?" I said, "What do you mean what am I?" She bellowed, "You are a sissy little girl!" With a trembling voice, I said, "Thank you so much for the pretty skirt and blouse, they are just perfect to help me be a pretty little sissy girl." When the laughter stopped, Ginger then said that it was time for me to earn my pretty clothing, I was to go downstairs and clean up the kitchen from last nights dinner. Ginger went ahead and closed the curtains; I was then escorted downstairs by the remaining three. As I began to walk, I noticed more new sensations as the slip moved over my stockings. It was strangely sensual but I was not supposed to enjoy this! My mind was spinning; my emotions were all over the map. After I had worked for a short while, Karen came close to me while the others were not watching. Karen then grabbed my hand as she pulled up her shirt and touched my hand to her breast. I had never even seen a real naked breast, now I was touching one. Tightly holding my hand, she then massaged herself with it. My reaction was to get hard again. The skirt material was kind of clingy and my bulge was visible. Karen then whispered, "I did not do that, understand?" She then called the girls over and turned me around so that they could see the bulge. She said, "Hey look, our sissy likes her pretty clothes." I just went back to work without a word while they hooted and giggled. The girls enjoyed making fun of me as I did my cleaning chores. They kept telling me what to do in great detail. They kept making me thank them for my pretty clothes, sometimes naming each item and describing it. "My pretty clothes", there I was cleaning a kitchen wearing a ruffled lace blouse, a silky skirt, a slip, a lacey garter belt, stockings, and pink panties with lace trim. Even as I progressed in the work, I never forgot how I was dressed for even a second. I could always see my false breasts pushing out the lace trim of my blouse, and feel the strange new sensations of the layers of smooth fabric. As I was cleaning, my penis was often hard. This caused strange feelings in me. Why was I aroused? Was it the breast that I touched, the constant attention from the girls, the captivity, the clothing? Was there something wrong with me to find any of this stimulating? When I finished the girls started to complain of hunger and decided that I could cook and serve breakfast. Karen then pulled Ginger aside and they whispered. It seemed like Karen wanted something and Ginger was reluctant. I think that I heard Ginger say, "No, what if something happens to them and ...." Finally Ginger seemed to give in. As this was happening, Nancy and Janet seemed puzzled. My feeling was more like frightened. Karen and Ginger left the room giggling. Nancy and Janet seemed even more puzzled. I was even more worried and scared. As bad as all of this was, it seemed as though it might get worse. When they returned, Ginger was carrying a black skirt held in front of her by the waistband making it dance in front of her. The skirt had lots of folds in it caused by lots of material. Karen was carrying a rather large bag swinging it around. As the bag moved it made a funny crinkling noise. Nancy and Janet seemed no longer puzzled and started to grin and giggle. Ginger told me to take off my blouse, skirt, and slip. Strangely, I felt like I just wanted to leave them on. As bad as my current clothing was, all the giggles, the smiles of anticipation, and the unknown seemed worse. As I hesitated, Ginger ran out of the room as she said, "Just a minute ..." She returned the camera. She pointed it at me, me standing there is a skirt and blouse, and she asked if I wanted to be an obedient sissy or to get my picture taken. I did as I was told and was soon standing there wearing a bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and shoes. Ginger then told me to put the blouse back on and I did it. Karen then grabbed the bottom of the bag and shook out of it what at first looked like a wadded up pile of white lace window curtains. She fiddled with it a bit until she found a round elastic edged hole and when she held it up it took on the shape of a cone with a blunt top. At first I was confused by this, it didn't seem like clothing. I had seen girls wearing skirts that flared out and showed gathers of material at the bottom, but I had never seen the flared slip all by itself. As Karen walked over to me and held the garment by the elastic edge right in front of me. It became clear that she intended that I was to be inside this puffed up collection of lace trimmed ruffles. She harshly said, "This is your pretty petticoat, sissy boy, it will make your skirt stick out really pretty." For some reason, this petticoat, with all of its ruffles, lace trim and voluminous layers, caused me much more fear and anxiety than what I had just taken off. She then held it to my waist; it tickled my stocking covered legs. She then raised her hands a bit as though offering this frightening mass of ruffles to me to take. With trembling hands, I took it. I held it by the waist band with the tips of my fingers far away from my body as though it were wet or dirty. I was desperate to make this stop, to find a way out. I looked at Ginger and said, "Ginger, you have won. I will never tell on you. Please, just let me put my bathing suit back on and leave." As I said this I gestured at handing the petticoat back to her. She laughed and picked up the camera and said, "What a lovely picture this will be." I then caught Karen's piercing stare, I wanted to lie down and cry. Instead, I took a deep breath and struggled to say, "Thank you for the pretty petticoat, may I put it on?" I was still holding the petticoat by the waist band with the tips of my fingers. I couldn't bring myself to hold on to it, but I was going to have to put it on. I bent over to get the waist band lower and stepped into the open circle. I hesitated; I trembled; I did not want to pull it up. The girls saw my fear and broke out in loud laughter. Powered by Karen's icy stare, I yanked it up and stood red faced, trembling, and struggling not to cry. The petticoat was about knee length. It stuck way out, I felt like a lamp shade or a big flower. It seemed to accentuate even the slightest movement. Unless I was perfectly still, it would sway and tickle my legs. It seemed to upset and confuse me that this was somewhat sensuous, it felt good in a sensuous way. But it was too much, why did it have to stick out so far? The room when silent, the girls all started at me as though they wanted something. Then Ginger reached for the camera, Karen gestured as though I should speak. So I meekly said, "Thank you for this lovely petticoat, I am very happy that I can wear it." They exploded with laughter. Ginger then handed me the black skirt, told me to put it on over my head, I did it. She then tied a plain white apron around my waist and said, "Be very careful to not get your clothing dirty." She seemed concerned. The girls declared that with the white blouse, black skirt, and white apron that it was the perfect "maid" uniform. I then was told to cook bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs. As I took my first steps toward the refrigerator, the petticoat and skirt bobbed and swayed and seemed to have a life of its own. Somewhat shocked by this, I stopped walking again and stood perfectly still to make it stop. I was so overwhelmed by the swishing of the petticoat and skirt, that for a moment I forgot about the girls and my task. Karen noticed that I was frozen and told me to twist back and forth to make my petticoat swish and sway. I remained motionless until Ginger grabbed the camera; the camera was turning into a mental "cattle prod." With red face and renewed trembling I twisted left and right. The petticoat and skirt came alive again; the motion caused lots of rubbing of the frilly petticoat against my nylon panties. All of the stimulation caused another erection, but the girls could not see it this time. In this way the petticoat was good, I could hide inside it. The girls laughed as I swished. Finally their hunger became more important than their amusement. I was told to proceed with breakfast. As I prepared and served breakfast, I was constantly very aware of my clothing. I had bumps in the front of a lacy feminine blouse, I was wearing nylon panties, and I was wearing a garter belt and stockings. But most of all, that damn petticoat just bobbed and swayed with each movement. I must have looked very rigid trying to do my work and not start the petticoat bouncing and swishing. Also when I had to stand close to the sink or stove, the petticoat and skirt were pressed into my panties increasing the stimulation. I continued to be glad that I was hidden. The girls sat at the table as I prepared the meal. When they were not giggling at me, they whispered. As they whispered, they seemed to grow more excited and animated. Then they got so excited that I could hear some of what they said, I heard "you still have it" and "I think I have one about the right length too." As soon as breakfast was over, Nancy and Janet left in Janet's car. I had brief thoughts about the improved odds as relates to escape. There were only two girls against me, but both Ginger and Karen were pretty big and mean. And by now, a lot of my fight was gone. They watched while I cleaned up the kitchen, again. While cleaning up, I spilled a bit of egg on the skirt. I wiped it off as best I could and I did not think that the girls saw it happen. As time when by, the excitement level of both of my captors seem to increase. Janet and Nancy burst into the door full of giggles. All four huddled together with more excited whispering and giggling. During the whispering I heard that Nancy had brought 'it', this seemed to cause a great deal of excitement. They then told me to go upstairs to the family room and close the door; Ginger came with me, probably to keep an eye on me. Entering the staircase was a new experience. The skirt was so wide that I rubbed on both sides at once; I was wider than the stairs. Climbing the stairs made the petticoat and skirt even livelier than just walking. I had to push the skirt in with my hands to go through the door to the family room. When in the family room, Ginger told me to sit on the sofa. I stood by the sofa and looked confused (how do you sit when wearing a 4 foot wide skirt). Ginger gave me lessons on sitting and standing until I was seated to her satisfaction. "Spread the skirt wide, pull the back underneath you, and sit." I filled most of the sofa and the skirt needed to be held down in front of me. As Ginger and I waited in the family room, I could hear the other three going in and out of the house a few times and up and down the stairs. All the while they whispered and giggled. Ginger had a very amused and superior look on her face and kept grinning at me. I just sat still, with a slight tremor and generalized fear. A moment later, Nancy tapped on the door and said, "We are ready." I started to shake with fear over what all of this meant, Nancy saw my fear and called me a scared little sissy. I was led into Ginger's room. I saw nothing different than when I was in there earlier. All of the girls has very expectant expressions, their eyes said, "This is going to be really great." Ginger told me to take off my blouse, skirt, petticoat, and shoes. Strangely, I felt like I just wanted to leave them on. As bad as it was, the unknown that was causing all the giggles seemed worse. As I hesitated, Ginger reached for the camera sitting on her dresser, this got me moving. Soon I was down to bra, panties, garter belt, and stockings. Karen excitedly jumped up on the bed and imitated an announcer. She said, "And now the moment that we have all been waiting for. The prom dress that Nancy's mother made for her. The dress that Nancy refused to wear because she said that it was appropriate for a fancy 8'th birthday party, not the junior prom. This is the dress that caused Nancy to be grounded instead of going to the prom." Nancy then walked around the bed and picked up a dress that was two tones of pink and white. She held it up to herself and mocked a slow dance. The other girls laughed and told Nancy that she made the right choice not going to the prom dressed in that. The dress had sleeves that puffed out at the shoulder about a foot, sort of a puff of lace enclosing the upper arm. The lower part of the sleeves was a sheer fabric with a lacey pattern in it. The ends of the sleeves had big gathered lace cuffs. The neck line was ruffles of lace. The same lace was in vertical rows from the neck to the waist. Underneath all the lace was a shiny fabric. The skirt was one tier over another, a tier of gathered lace, then a tier of gathered sheer fabric, repeated about ten tiers. The tiers were alternating between two tones of pink plus white. Karen took the dress from Nancy and held it up to me and they all laughed. I started to panic all over again; this was a dress that a girl had refused to wear. And it was for me, I took a step back so that the dress did not touch me. Sensing my resistance coming back, Karen said that it sure would be fun to push me out the door dressed as I was and Ginger grabbed the camera again. I forced myself to settle down. The girls were masters of mental torture. Rather than having me put the dress on, they hung it on the back of the closet door. They had other things to do first, but all the while the dress was just hanging there, a frilly lace covered pink and white ruffled threat. I was asked to sit on the chair by the dressing table. They crowded around me and went to work giving direction and demonstrations. I was guided in the art of applying makeup. There was lots of "no, remove it, watch me, and try again". As I worked on each item, I tried to ignore the rest of my face in the makeup mirror. I tried to make it some distant separate bright red lips, not me wearing bright red lipstick, the makeup mirror was rather small so it helped me create my illusion of looking at something besides me. I finally got it all to their satisfaction. Then there was guidance with putting on jewelry and even a long blond curly wig. In addition to guiding me, they put a lot of energy into taunting and teasing. I was just mortified with my transformation and that seemed to delight and energize them. The jewelry included dangling earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and even an ankle bracelet. There I was with long blonde curly hair with bangs, makeup all over my face, and lots of jewelry from top to bottom. I was then instructed in the art of nail shaping and painting. I was normally a bit lazy about keeping my fingernails trimmed and they happened to be a bit long that day. Soon my fingernails were a bright shinny pink. The girls thought that it was great that they were long enough to be made pretty and kept telling me how great they looked as I struggled to do a neat job. I regretted ignoring my nails, should have kept them short. Throughout this process, they continued to make comments about the dress, telling me how precious I will look in it, making sure I did not forget my fate. "Look at the pretty dress we have for you, I'll bet you can't wait to put it on. All of those lace ruffles on the dress sure will make you look pretty." They did not have to worry; I could not ignore the hideous frills that awaited me. I then tried on several pairs of shoes until we found a pair of rather high heel open toe sandals made out of black patent leather that fit me. It was Karen's brilliant idea that since the shoes were open toed, that I remove them and my stockings and paint my toenails shinny pink too. I then put the stockings and shoes back on. They then had me make some minor jewelry and makeup changes. It was like they were stalling to build suspense about my fate which was hanging on the closet door. We then had some walking lessons with the heels. They were difficult at first but I found that I could manage to say upright. While I was walking, they asked me to imagine myself wearing the dress. They told me how it would swing and sway with each step and how feminine that would make me feel. The long hair of the wig tickled my shoulders, especially whenever I moved my head. With my peripheral vision, I could see the curls framing my face. I could feel the earrings dangling from my ears. I could feel the necklaces, bracelets, and even the ankle bracelet. The high heels changed the way I walked; the girls said it made me wiggle my butt. I could not help but notice my pink fingernails and toenails. I had been feminized in many ways, but the dress was still to come. Janet then asked if I had to go to the bathroom. I did and was allowed to go. In the bathroom, I made a point of not looking in the mirror; I did not want to see me all at once in the big mirror. I needed to hide even from myself. Upon my return, with great fanfare, I was asked if I wanted to start getting dressed. After a subtle prod from Karen and Ginger reaching for the camera, I said, "Oh goody, now I get to wear that pretty dress." Karen said, "Not just yet," and she walked to the other side of the bed and picked up a large wadded up pile of white fabric. She handed it to me and said, "Don't forget your petticoat." The girls laughed as I worked to untangle it so that I had it by the waist band. I then bent over, stepped into it, and pulled it up. It was longer than the petticoat that I had on before; it went to half way between my knees and ankles. It puffed out about a foot and a half on each side. I then said, "Thank you for this lovely petticoat." Karen then asked Nancy if she though that the petticoat was right for the dress. Nancy said that it might not be full enough and she went back around the bed and up came another frilly petticoat, this time it was pink. As this was happening, I felt an odd combination of being overwhelmed and panicked. The petticoat that I had on was already too much, how could I be given more. But as trained and prompted, I said, "Oh thank you, another pretty petticoat for me to wear, much better than just one, such a pretty shade of pink, it will make my dress so pretty." The girls got another big laugh as I untangled like before. Because I already had a petticoat on, this had to be pulled over my head. I was told that if I messed up my wig, makeup or jewelry that I would regret it. I wondered how it could get worse, but decided I did not want to find out. Once I had it by the waistband, it was still difficult to get it organized and over my head. I was very careful with the second petticoat and did not mess anything up. When I was done, the girls complained that the second one was not laying right over the first one. I was instructed to swing them back and forth to get the second one to lay flat. This caused lots of rubbing of the frilly petticoat against my nylon underclothes. All of the stimulation caused another erection, but once again, I was safe from their eyes inside the petticoat. But I did not need two to be safe. With both petticoats, I stuck out about two and a half feet on each side and I felt the first petticoat pushing harder against my legs due to the weight of the second. I was embarrassed to note that is was rather sensuous. The girls enjoyed laughing some more at my appearance. I now had so much material around me that I felt like I was inside of the petticoats rather than having them on me. They all then looked at the dress, looked at me, and then back at the dress. Karen said, "What would you like to do now, my pretty little sissy." I knew what they wanted me to say, and as I took a breath to start I was interrupted by Ginger. She said to Karen, "I think that it is rude to keep calling this cute little girl just sissy, we need a proper girl's name." As they laughed and giggled their way through the decision process, I just tired to shut it all off ignore them. How had I got to this point, why did I let it happen, how could I have prevented it, how can I escape? My internal dialog was interrupted when my name was announced to me; I was to be Miss Lacey Anne Frilly. Karen then started over, "What would you like to do now, sweet little Lacey?" With the fight gone, I said, "May I please put on my pretty pink dress?" They all giggled and Karen passed the dress into my trembling hands. After fumbling with opening the zipper, I pulled it on over my head. As my head came out of the top and I looked down at myself, I saw all of the lace and ruffles and could hardly believe that it was me. I felt like a decoration in a doll shop. The girls then surrounded and fussed at me, someone zipped the dress up; they made sure that the skirt of the dress was properly spread over the excessive mass of petticoats. They adjusted the puffy sleeves, they fluffed out my petticoats. Throughout this process, they lavished sarcastic praise on me regarding all of the feminine attributes that I possessed. I was pretty, lovely, cute, such a pretty dress, etc. With each movement of my body the dress swayed and bobbed, there was some muted noise caused by the layers of fabric all rubbing over each other. I was especially aware of my arms, the big puffy sleeves from shoulder to elbow, then the big ruffle at the wrist, my pink fingernails. I wanted to hide them. There was no place to put them, with the big skirt of the dress in the way they could not hang to my sides, so I just sort of set them on the skirt with my hands at the front. The girls noticed my awkwardness and just howled with laughter. Ginger then went over to the closet door and opened it. On the inside it had a full length mirror. She aimed the door so that I could see myself. I expected to see a boy looking silly dressed up in girls clothes. But I was shocked to see a girl looking back at me from the mirror. The feminine image was complete, with every detail covered; I appeared to be a girl in a very frilly feminine gown. When the girls saw me pause with shock, they must have realized what I saw; it was a very funny joke to them. They then directed me to follow them out of Ginger's room. My first steps were a shock, the huge skirt held out by the two petticoats swayed and swung with each step. Then I realized that I was much wider than the door. They realized it too and all turned to watch me attempt to come through the door. At first I started to push the skirt in at the sides with my hand like I had while entering the family room earlier, but the skirt was longer than my arms. It just seemed to stay stuck out at the bottom as I pushed in part way down. I then just gave up and walked through the door, kind of dragging the skirt behind me. In the hallway, the skirt touched both walls at once and some muted rustling sounds, although it was hard to hear over the laughter. We then made our way down stairs. The stairs were another new experience. Because of the heels, I used the railing. The skirt of the dress and petticoats floated up and bounced with each step as I descended. The girls really seemed to enjoy this. The girls sat down on the living room furniture and I just stood there, unsure of what to do. They just starred at me quietly grinning, I just stood there. After a minute or two, they just broke out laughing. Karen then demanded, "What is your name?" I froze for a second, and Ginger leaped up and ran upstairs. As she left she said, "Wait a minute." We were all still and silent until she returned with the camera. I looked at the camera, then at Karen and said, "My name is Lacey Anne Frilly." Karen said, "Tell us about your pretty outfit and how much you like it." As I answered, they constantly made me stop and add more details. Mostly they wanted me to describe how frilly and lacey and feminine my outfit was. I had to touch and display each part as I described it. I had to tell them about how much I liked the way it felt and made me look. For example, I had to pull up my dress and petticoats and say, "These are my pretty pink lace nylon panties and my lovely lace garter belt; I just love how feminine they make me feel." Wearing two petticoats, it was rather difficult to pull all of the ruffles out of the way to show my panties and garter belt. I just tried to do what they wanted to get it over with. I was somehow just devoid of fight. I was trapped and needed to endure. With them sitting down and me standing in the middle of the room standing, it seemed worse than before, like I was vulnerable and it emphasized their level of control. At times I struggled to not just cry, but I couldn't afford to show that much weakness. Karen then said to me, "Since this is a very special day, you will get a special treat." She asked me to follow her and we went back upstairs to Ginger's room. The remaining girls all snickered with anticipation; they all knew what was going to happen. Going up the stairs was almost as hard as going down. I had to lift my petticoats and dress so as not to step on them. It was awkward, but I made it. But it was not just the walking that was hard; it was dreading my "special treat." In Ginger's room, she went around the bed, bent over, and came up with another white petticoat. I just felt overwhelmed. Another mass of ruffles, didn't I already have enough. This petticoat was different; as she picked it up and handed it to me I noticed that it made a funny, surprisingly loud, rustling noise. Karen handed it to me and then just grinned at me. After a stern look from Karen I said, "Oh I am so lucky, thank you so much, I know I will just love another pretty petticoat." Being again careful of my makeup, jewelry, and wig; I removed the dress, untangled and pulled the third petticoat over my head, got it spread out over the first two, and put the dress back on. Throughout all of this, there was that rustling noise. This was getting ridiculous; this petticoat had even more bulk than the first two. I was almost as wide as I was tall. As Karen watched, she was not giggling, she had a look of triumph and self importance. I hardly knew her, but this all seemed very significant and important to her. She told me that when asked any questions, she had better keep getting a sissy little girl answer or I would be sorry. She said that kicking me out of the house, saying that they caught me trying on dresses and I got scared and ran sounded like great fun. She then asked me if I liked my dress, I said, "Oh yes, it is very pretty, my lovely dress is much prettier with three petticoats." She then opened the closet, aimed the mirror at me, and asked me the same questions again. I gave the same answers as I stared in misbelief at the girl in the mirror. Karen seemed satisfied, gave me some instructions about what to say when we got downstairs, and started out of the room. Throughout the day she would often tell me what to say in such a way that the others did not hear her. Any time I moved there was that rustling noise, especially when pulling my extra wide bulk through the door, down the hall, and down the stairs. When we re-entered the living room, I said, as coached, "Karen gave me another pretty petticoat, don't you think that it makes my dress even prettier? I am so happy that you are letting me discover how much I enjoy being a pretty little girl, getting to wear these frilly silky pretty clothes is a dream come true. Thank you so much for helping me to become who I really want to be, Lacey Anne Frilly." Nancy said to the girls, "Oh, listen to that, was that last petticoat taffeta?" Janet said, "Yes, it's the one that I wore to the prom, my date joked that I was the noisiest girl at the dance." As bad as it was, again standing and performing in front of my seated captors, I was soon to discover that it could get worse. In a very serious voice, Karen said, "Lacey Anne, it is very important that you receive proper training to be a good little girl. You need to learn talk like a cute little girl and learn to do a proper curtsey. Do you think that is a good idea Lacey?" I said, "Oh yes, please teach me to talk and curtsey like a cute little girl." The others went ballistic at this idea and my reaction to it. We then had speech and curtsey class, one student and four teachers. Each time I curtseyed I had to say things like, "I am pretty little Lacey Anne Frilly and I just love my pretty dress, thank you for my three pretty petticoats," in a high pitched little girl voice. The voice was not too hard to do since my voice hadn't changed yet. There were constant coaching, suggestions and requests to do it over. Then we did walking lessons. I learned to sway my hips to make the skirts swing back and forth; I learned to turn around quickly to make the skirts swing out. They instructed me to make the skirts swish with my arms, to swing them back and forth as I stood still and while walking. How had we gotten to this, I performed every degrading task that was asked of me with no resistance. The awareness of being in very feminine attire was overwhelming. The big ruffled sleeves, the lace at my wrists, my shinny bright pink nails, the cascades of ruffles down my billowing skirt, the feel of the lace trimmed petticoats rustling over my nylon covered legs, long blond curls tickling my face and shoulders, earrings wiggling against my neck, and the smooth nylon of my stockings and pink panties. A girl dressed like this would have looked out of place even at a formal dance. The dress was an overdone caricature of a formal gown. The three petticoats had the dress sticking out more than a southern belle's hoopskirt. I was engulfed in femininity. I was sashaying around swishing my dress babbling about how much I enjoyed being engulfed in ruffles and lace in the voice of a 5 year old girl. Every few minutes (all day long) I was asked questions about what I enjoyed, if I liked what I was doing, or if I liked my clothing. My reply was always an enthusiastic affirmation of my love of appearing, acting, or being excessively feminine. I was beaten. I just had to endure and be strong till the day was over. It was getting near noon and the girls then decided that I should serve them lunch (leftovers from Ginger's Mother's bridge party the night before). But first I had to go upstairs and change back into my 'serving' clothes. I was instructed to take off the dress and hang it on the door and then to take off the petticoats and put them on the floor on the other side of the bed. I then redressed in the outfit that I wore while fixing breakfast (except that I still had the high heel shoes on) and we all went downstairs to the living room. I then started into the kitchen to prepare lunch, but Karen said, "Stop". The others looked at Karen with anticipation; I looked at Karen with fear. Karen gestured to Ginger to follow and they walked into Gingers parent's room (funny house, master bedroom on the first floor, family room on the second). I could hear giggles coming from the room and minutes later they came out carrying a hanger with a white blouse on it and what looked like a pair of white shorts covered with many rows of red lace. The blouse was covered with ruffles and frills; far more feminine than what I had on. After a nudge, I asked to exchange the blouse I was wearing for the "prettier" one. Ginger granted my wish and I performed the exchange. Karen directed me to remove the skirt and petticoat and then handed me the white shorts, calling them pettipants. I started to put them on. Karen said, "I have an idea Lacey, would you like to remove your pink panties and put the pretty pettipants on inside out so you can enjoy the feel of all that pretty red lace on your little wee wee?" I "agreed" that it was a great idea and I removed my panties, turned the pettipants inside out, and put them on. As coached I then said, "Oh, I just love all the pretty lace tickling me, especially on my tiny wee wee, thank you Karen." I then put on the short white petticoat back on and reached for the skirt. As I did, Ginger said, "Wait a minute," and left the room. Ginger returned carrying another petticoat just like I had on, except that it was red. She then asked me if I wanted to have a really big skirt and wear two petticoats. Of course that is exactly what I wanted. So I put the red petticoat on too. Together, these two stiff petticoats stood almost straight out and even though it was shorter, the resulting silhouette was almost as wide as the pink dress with the three petticoats. It was rather difficult to get the second petticoat properly spread over the first. They had me swinging and bouncing my petticoats again to get them to properly lay over each other. While the entire wardrobe change was major entertainment for the girls, the problems with the petticoats was evidently the best part. I then put the skirt back on. Throughout this costume change, I was very appreciative of my pretty new clothes, thankful for my two petticoats, etc. The red, white, and black outfit was a stark contrast to the two-tone pink and white. (At a later date I discovered that I was wearing Ginger's mother's square dance clothing, but I suspect that she never wore both petticoats at once.) The girls all sat down leaving me standing in the center of the room. The lace of the pettipants was very noticeable to me, not just on my penis but everywhere that it touched me. They then took turns telling me what to do; I had to do things like swing my skirt and petticoats around and say, "Oh thank you, I really do love this pretty blouse and skirt, thank you so much for letting me wear them. Isn't the lace on my blouse just precious and the skirt is so pretty with the two petticoats and I especially love my lacy pettipants." Ginger then commented that the blouse was a bit big for me and she instructed me to take it off and to remove my bra. As Ginger went into her parent's room, the others looked surprised, like this was not planned. Ginger came back carrying a bra and two more socks. I was given the new bra; it had larger cups (probably her mothers). I put on the new bra and inserted all the socks and put the blouse back on, the girls all agreed that the blouse fit better. The much larger bust was obvious in my peripheral vision. I felt really conspicuous. Karen must have noticed my reaction to my new chest and decided that it needed to be made worse. She whispered to Ginger a bit and they both left the room tittering. It seemed a long and terrifying wait standing there in my feminine attire wondering what was next. They returned a while later each carrying something behind their back. I was asked to remove the blouse and to take the sox out of my bra. Karen and Ginger then each proudly produced a balloon full of water, my balloons. After the giggling subsided, a large water balloon was placed into each side of the bra. The bra was now much fuller than it was even with the extra sox. I was very different feeling the weight and discovering that my breasts jiggled when I moved. I then put the blouse back on. It was now snug across my huge bust. I was made to walk so that they could admire my bouncing bosom. They had me go up the stairs and back down so that they could watch me bounce and jiggle as I descended. The two shorter petticoats were stiffer than the longer ones so the skirt of this outfit bobbed and bounced even more than the pink dress. As coached, on the way down each time I said as I wiggled, "Look at my beautiful body, what magnificent breasts I have, they make me feel so feminine." Karen went on and on about how thoughtful it was that I brought along my own falsies. She concluded that since I brought rather large water balloons that I must have wanted to have large breasts. Ginger then put a fancy white lace apron on me and I became 'Maid Lacey'. This new apron came up over my chest and had large lace ruffles at the shoulder; one of the girls called it a pinafore. I was told that Janet had brought it and so I thanked her. Throughout serving lunch I was constantly told to curtsey and twirl and swing my skirt as I walked back and forth. They insisted that my walking should be tiny little steps, wiggle my butt, and jiggle my breasts. To make the process as bad a possible, I had to make a separate trip to the table for each item and as each item was placed I had to announce it in my little girl voice, for example, "This glass is for Karen offered by the pretty sissy maid Lacey Anne Frilly," and then perform a big curtsey. To get me to do this required Ginger to bring the camera to the table and point it at me. Each curtsey was followed by grins and giggles. Several times my voice started to go back to normal and I had to take the item back and do it again. I was constantly very aware of my breasts. Now they were over twice as big, had weight and jiggled. I suspected that they felt more like real breasts with balloons than with sox. Due to the weight, I could feel the bra straps cutting into my shoulders, but it wasn't too bad. It was bad that I caused Ginger to go get the camera. While she was upstairs she got a bottle of perfume. I was rather heavily doused behind my ears, on my neck, on my chest, and on my wrists. The unmistakably feminine aroma that I now carried with me was somehow a different dimension than the clothing. Perhaps that it was not touch or sight, but smell. In any case, it was just another addition to the existing overload. Throughout lunch the pace of questions, the answers to which were a proclamation of my love of feminine attire, appearance, and mannerisms seemed to hit the peak. Perhaps it was the addition of the topic of my breasts, "Do you like having such a pretty chest?" "Yes, of course, this pretty blouse would not fit right if I was flat." When it was time for the girls to eat, I was told to stand nearby to be ready to serve. With the skirt sticking almost straight out, what to do with my arms became a problem, I was feeling very conspicuous about my lace covered arms having no place to go. Ginger noticed this and said, "Oh, I have an idea, pretty little Lacey doesn't know what to do with her hands, I know how to fix that." She then left the room and came back with a pair of white lace gloves. They were half finger gloves with a little ruffle on each finger and a larger ruffle at the wrist. After asking permission, I was allowed to wear the gloves too. This certainly added to the sensation of wanting to hide my arms and hands and pink nails. The gloves were also the topic of more questions. "Do you like those pretty lace gloves?" "Oh, yes, they make my hands look so pretty and they are so cute with my pretty pink nails." As I stood there being self conscience of my arms and hands, I noticed Karen's gaze and then an almost startled ah-ha moment. She jumped up and left the room and returned a minute later. She returned, set some safety pins on the table, turned to me, and she grabbed the two petticoats and the skirt and pulled them up to the bottom of my "balloon breasts". She then pinned them through the blouse to the bottom band of the bra while making jokes about having to avoid puncturing my tits. The girls that were sitting down giggled that they could now see the bottom of the inside out pettipants. Nancy suggested that I turn them right side out so that the pretty lace would be visible. Ginger got up and left with a big grin. She returned with an all black pair of pettipants with red lace, squatted before me, and told me to step into them. I couldn't see what she was doing, the big skirt pulled up so high left me very little visibility down. So I just lifted my foot and she put them over one leg, I then lifted the other foot and she pulled them up and said, "That's better, now we see pretty lace but you still get to have the lace tickle your tiny wee wee." The effect of the second pair of pettipants was to press the lace harder against me and accentuate the sensations of the lace, especially against my enlarging penis. All this time I had been standing motionless as if in a trance with my hands stiffly held up so my hands almost touched my shoulders with my elbows out. Ginger broke the spell with a request for more milk. As I moved the effect of the moving petticoats was much greater than before, the bottoms of the petticoats (where most of the motion took place) had been at my knees, now it was much higher. The petticoats rubbing on my lace encased privates sustained my level of arousal. And now there really was nowhere for my hands and arms. I walked with my arms bent out at the elbows, sometimes hands gently resting on the massive skirt flaring from way above my waist and sometimes just held out not touching anything. My arm motion became a caricature of a prissy woman walking. Karen's watchful eye must have detected a reaction in me. After I delivered the milk, she told me to stand facing the table and pull my petticoats up. I hesitated and Ginger glared at me and said - enunciating each syllable carefully and slowly - "Camera." With face turning red and hands trembling, I gather the petticoats in my arms and raised them up. Karen reached out and pulled both of the pettipants down and out popped my hard little penis. The girls laughed and jeered as I stood there on display. When they got tired, Karen said, "Pull the pettipants up and drop your petticoats now, but while you are waiting, keep those hips swinging and your hands swishing your skirt and petticoats to keep your tiny friend happy." It was quite a chore to get the pettipants up having to work around the two big petticoats; the girls were back in heckling and laughing mode while I struggled. When done, I was left standing there swinging and swishing my petticoats, arms in a bent out at the elbow, hands working my skirt, posing and primping like a true sissy. When they finished eating, I was asked if I was hungry, I said no; fearing that I was so upset that I would no be able to keep it down. When they had finished eating, I went to work clearing the table with the same rules as when I had set it. They sat and laughed as I curtsied and swished back and forth with each item from the table, one item per trip. The stimulation inside the of the "inside out" lace pettipants was greatly enhanced when I had to press the mass of petticoats up against a cabinet or counter to get close enough to reach something. Of particular amusement to them was my walking. My teetering on the high heels accentuated the wiggle in my walk which got the pulled up petticoats bobbing and swinging worse than ever. They also enjoyed the way that I held and moved my empty lace encased hands with the pink nails as I returned to the table for each additional item. My hands extended from bent elbows and swung as I teetered in the heels. Nancy then mentioned that with the skirt and petticoats worn so high above the waist, that I looked much more like a little girl. Karen hopped up and said, "Follow me." We all paraded up to Ginger's room. Karen opened the closet door and had be stand in from of the full length mirror. Karen then said, "Are you happy that you look like a sweet little girl?" I was somewhat shaken by the silly juvenile image strangely mixed with the huge breasts and high heel that I saw. I blushed, hesitated and mumbled to Karen, "Yes." Karen said, "You don't sound too happy and your voice doesn't sound like a 'widdle' girl at all." Karen approached and whispered into my ear. She then backed away and repeated her original question, "Are you happy that you look like a sweet little girl?" I took a deep quivering breath and started jumping up and down. While jumping I clapped my hands said, in a very high pitched baby talk voice, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, I am so happy to be a pretty widdle girl. I just love my adorable widdle girl frills and pretty pretty petticoats." Ginger noticed that I was not watching in the mirror as I did this. I performed several encores being forced to watch the bouncing curls, petticoats, and breasts. To be sure that I was really watching, they had me narrate each detail that I saw. Ginger then announced that we would have a fashion show. As she started to send the girls down stairs to be the audience, Karen had a better idea. I needed to freshen up my makeup. I did it faster and better this time with only a small amount of verbal instruction. I also had the honor of dousing the perfume all by myself this time. It was somewhat humiliating and disturbing that I had the skill to do this stuff. Again, Ginger sent the audience downstairs and this time they went. She then had me take off my serving outfit including the pettipants and put my pink panties back. She went into the storage closet off of her room and returned with a petticoat that was longer than any of the petticoats that I had been wearing. I put it on and she tied a draw string around my waist. Even with the high heels it almost touched the floor. She then went and got a bright yellow dress with a small amount of white trim and I put it on with Ginger's help. It actually touched the floor. It was more grownup looking than my pink and white dress. It was a shiny fabric and the skirt was covered with several layers of a somewhat stiff sheer fabric of the same bright yellow. It was sleeveless but had a matching lace 'jacket'. I was then sent downstairs to parade for the other girls. This dress and petticoat were rather noisy as I walked. After a few minutes of showing off my new look and saying how happy I was to get to wear it, I was then sent back up and this was repeated with several other outfits. Unlike Karen, Ginger did not seem hostile as she helped me in and out of the outfits, she seemed more amused. I wore a short tight white mini-skirt and flimsy pink blouse of a stretchy fabric that really showed off my balloon breasts. I wore a Girl Scout uniform (with the high heel sandals and lace gloves); it was rather tight on top. And several other non-memorable outfits, the girls voted on their favorite and I was to do an encore in the long bright yellow dress and long petticoat. After I got the yellow dress back on, Ginger told me to sit on the bed. While searching for outfits she had found a pair of silver patent leather sandals with a heel even higher than what I had on. She said that I needed them to keep the dress from touching the floor. My lucky day, they fit. As I stood to walk, I was shocked by how high the heel was, I could hardly walk. They forced me to take short steps and that produced a natural wiggle. Ginger seemed pleased as she sent me down stairs. This