A Boy With Girly Hair - The Contest - Part 2

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The next morning I was up early. "Mom, where's Jean?" "She's already gone to class, but don't worry, I'll take out the rollers." We had just sat down on the living room couch when the doorbell rang, and Mom went to answer it.

I recognized Mike's voice. He was my best friend.

"Come on in, boys," I heard Mom say.

Then to my horror, in walked Mike and his older brother, Ed. "God, what happened to you?" Mike asked when he saw me. "My sister," I stammered, "used me for her beauty class to practice on." For a minute, both guys just stood looking at me with their mouths open.

"Hey, sorry to bother you two, but my brother, you remember Ed? Captain of The central winningest football team," Mike says, beaming with pride. "He just wanted to say hello to your mother."

"Sit down, boys; we'll be through in a minute, but we can talk while I work," Mom said, gesturing to the love seat and chair. "Please stay so I can catch up on what's happening with you boys."

Carefully Mom gently removed the hairpins and rollers, unwinding each one to the end of the strand before pulling them out. And as she removed the rollers, she and Ed and Mike talked. I was so uncomfortable being watched by my best friend and his brother that I didn't pick up much of their conversation. And I was much more occupied with what Mom was doing. I felt my hair being unraveled and bouncing back, Mom's fingers moving silently over my head, and rollers dropping in my lap. In a few minutes, she was finished and ran her fingers through my hair, shaking the stiff, deep brown curls. With Mom holding a mirror up to my face, all I saw curls, lots of uncombed curls. I was so excited that I forgot that two guys were staring at me in amazement. Suddenly I came back to reality.

It was bad enough being seen with a head full of girlish curls by my best friend but I was also seen by Ed, who was 23 years old and a really cool-looking, macho guy.

It seems that Ed was back for his high school reunion, and he was still thankful for the time my father got him a summer job.

"What do you think, boys? Isn't his hair lovely? Isn't he the prettiest boy you've ever seen," Mom blurted out? "I'll let your sister do the brush out. Poor Nick, she said to Ed and Mike, "he had to sleep last night in his hair rollers." Ed and Mike looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, cocked their heads, and smiled.

Finally, they excused themselves, saying they had to run. I was so tongue-tied that I don't think I even say "goodbye."

I was really upset by my mother. "Mom, did you have to go on and on like that? If anyone calls for me, say I'm not home," I said angrily and went to my room. In no time at all, I was in the bathroom looking at myself, at my curls: curls that dangled sensuously over my ears fluttered off my cheeks and twisted on my forehead to my eyebrows. Strands of hair wound like mattress coil springs, catching the light and hiding in the shadows of my face. Stiff curls that tempted me to touch them.

I carefully tugged at them, shook my head to see them dance against my face, and carefully touched them with my fingertips to feel their hardness. I look wicked, I thought, lusciously wicked. I fantasized all that day about how I would look with my hair combed out until being interrupted by a call from the living room.

"Where's my model?" Sis called out. Geez, I thought, what am I in for now?

"Mom, Mom, I passed my test, but now I've another assignment," she shouted.

"Now I have to practice my makeup. Where's my baby brother?" she called out as she bounded up the stairs and into my room, where I was lying on my bed, halfway watching a video.

"Where's Mom?" Sis asked.

"Don't you ever knock?"

Sis looked startled when she saw me." my don't you look sexy, my little boy-girl brother." For a minute, she stared at me until she came back to reality."Come on, brother," she ordered. "I have to practice putting makeup on a person."

"I'm not a person; remember, I'm your brother." On and on, she keeps it up about me being a model. "Don't you have any girlfriends to practice on?" I asked.

"You brat. You know none of the girls like me because I've stolen their boyfriends.

"Too bad for you, Wait, fix me up with your friend's sister, Wendy, and I'll do it," I said.

"Wendy,Wendy," she repeated. "Oh, I know, Wendy, big boobs. Let me tell you, I'm in better shape than she'll ever be. I saw you looking at mine when I washed your hair. Anyway, Maria and I aren't on speaking terms at this time. Wait, if you let me make up your face, I'll show you my boobs. Honest."

"Sure, ok," I said. "Show me them."

I was stunned, caught entirely off guard when even before I could entirely sit up, Sis had unbuttoned her white blouse and was seated on the edge of the bed. For a minute, she hesitated. I guess my insult and her need for a model overcame whatever little modesty she had. Unhook me," she said, turning around with her back towards me. Geez, did my hands tremble as I fumbled with the 3 little hooks?

"Come on, come on," she urged, "this isn't a porno movie where they have two hours to kill." With the last clasp released, she turned around, facing me. Geez, I almost went in my pants, and the growing bulge was obvious enough to put a smile on Sis' face.

"I see that my little brother likes what he sees. Now, do I get my model?"

"Well, Maybe, I," I stammered.

"What!!" she shouted. What the hell do you want?"

"Let me touch em," I blurted out without thinking. I don't know what got into me.

Maybe it was this wicked-looking hairstyle.

"Ok, ok, but quickly." Closing her eyes, she stiffened herself like a prisoner in the movies who is about to be shot by a firing squad. My fingers trembled as I first cautiously touched her nipples with both hands and then rolled them between my thumbs and forefingers. They stiffened and grew larger, and Sis breathed deeply, her breasts rhythmically rising and falling; carrying along with them my hands as I clung to her nipples. She began to breathe through her mouth, with lips slightly parted, long deep breaths, and then short, fast ones. God, I thought, in a minute I'm going to shoot my load in my shorts.

"That's it," she gasped but made no movement to pull away. "That's all. That's all.

We, better quit, before we get, carried away." She struggled to get up and, finally gaining her senses, stood up and walked away. In a minute, she became her old self. "In 10 minutes, you're mine for the rest of the day, my brat model."

Geez, I thought this hardon isn't going to go away for a while, and was I dying to relieve myself, but Jean's constantly calling forced me to join her in the family room where we were surrounded by trays of cosmetics, and brushes, and lots of other things. "You sit here, and I'm sitting right in front of you. With tweezers in hand, she said, "first, I'm going to shape your eyebrows to make them more feminine."

"Ouch," I cried, "that hurt."

"It did not," she scolded me. "These are wayward hairs, and you won't miss them."

"Hell, I won't; if they belong to me, I'll miss them."

On she went, plucking away. "I have to give your brows more of an arch. And now for a little artwork with a brown eyebrow pencil."

"Now I'm applying a foundation. With your yellow undertones, this one is perfect," she said, showing me the cosmetic. "What do you mean, yellow!"

"Most people have yellow undertones, silly," Sis shot back. "Notice how I'm blending in the foundation," she said, and I felt the brush flickering over my face. "Now I'm applying a charcoal-colored powder eyeliner and am smudging it in just outside the lash line. "Look at me," she said as she ran the mascara brush over my eyelashes, once, twice, three times. Then she used an eyelash curler to curl my eyelashes.

Wow, this is really giving you a dramatic look," Sis squealed.

"Really," I said, "isn't a girl's hairdo dramatic enough look for a guy?"

"I'm now applying a rosy brown shade of lipliner and topping it with Maybelline.

Moisture Whip Gloss in Red Raisin." With that, Jean positioned herself in front of me and slide the tip of the lipstick over my lips. Pucker," she said.

On and on, she went, doing what she called "blending" and "shading," which she did with all kinds of brushes.

All this beauty treatment was beginning to get to me; that is, it was entertaining.

Sure, Sis was kinda pushing me around; but I liked to look at beautiful women, so I guess I should like to look at myself, I thought to myself.

"Now for the comb-out," Jean announced. "I'm starting at the hairline, brushing straight back in long strokes." Then she leaned over and whispering in my ear, "I'm using long, vigorous strokes, stroking and stroking... using full brush strokes the full length of the strand of hair, Now, I'm guiding the hair into the lines defined by the setting".

Then she used what she called a "rat tail" comb to shape and lift, all the time using hairspray. "All done," she announced. "Now go look at yourself." Looking in the bath mirror, I couldn't believe what I saw. I looked bad; I mean, I looked really cute, as cute as that nasty Judy, except her hair was longer than mine. I thought to myself, if someone asked to touch my hair, I'd say, "Get lost, creep." If I didn't know better, I wouldn't have known the person in the mirror. The rolling wave of hair was high on one side and dipped to the other side at my forehead. Along the sides of my face, fluffy brown curls of hair rested against my white cheeks and then cascaded down my neck and bounced off my shoulders; in the back, the hair was a v-shaped waterfall of waves, ending in billows of curls. I looked like one of the girls in Mom's magazines, like a living doll, like a girl that guys like me worship from afar. Being a definite non-jock type, I was in love with every gorgeous girl in school, and now I was kind of in love with myself. Now I was one of those unattainable females, the ones that cause guys to become mush mouths when they try talking to them. My sister knew I liked the way I looked even though I tried to hid it from her. She was all smiles of wickedness.

"I guess I should wash my face, now that you're done," I half heatedly said to Sis.

But Sis said to wait until Mom and Dad saw me.

For the rest of the day, I walked around the house, stopping to look in the mirror at least 50 times. Every time I saw myself, I tossed my head and blew kisses to myself.

And I'd talk to myself. "Why Nick, you are such a handsome guy. Of course, I would love to go out with you. Then I'd pucker up and blow myself a kiss.

Mom couldn't hide her reaction. "My God, don't you look just lovely!" she said, fussing over me. "Your sister did a wonderful job on you. Just wonderful."

"Mom, it's me, Nick, your son, in case you don't remember," I said. "Now, I finally, get to wash it all off !"

Mom agreed, but Sis interrupted her. "No, Mom. Dad told me before he left that he wanted to see my handiwork. He'd be really disappointed if Nick ruined everything."

Dad was also surprised at my appearance. He said I looked as petty as any girl he knew, which I know was an exaggeration, but I liked to hear it anyway.

"Honey,"

Mom said to Dad. "Why don't you and Nick have your talk in the family room now while I fix dinner. Geez, I thought, what am I in for it now.

Dad sat in his chair, and I sat on the couch next to it. "Now, son," he said, turning to face me. Don't be worried; I'm not angry at the look. I just want to tell you that I mean your mother and me... like the way you look, we think it's wonderful that you're helping your sister like you are. And dressing like a girl and wearing makeup, well, it's, it's, well, nice that you did this for your sister. But don't take it too seriously, that is, remember who you are." With that, Dad ended our talk and seemed satisfied that he said what had to be said, but I didn't get whatever he was trying to say.

What could I say? Like my father was almost crying in front of me, "I don't mind once in a while, helping her out, I guess." And then, without thinking, I blurted out, "Anyway, I kinda like looking so pretty." Damn it! What did I say! This caused Dad to smile, and he seemed relieved. I tried to say what I meant, but it still came out wrong. "It's not like you're making me do this; it's kinda fun to have my hair fixed and wear makeup like a girl," I said. Damn, I said it again.

Dad and Sis and I, and Mom, too, I guess, had lots of fun at the dinner table. It just seems like I cheered everyone up, looking the way I did. "Brother, tomorrow you and I are going to go shopping for some new clothes for you," My sister

announced.

"Great," I said. I saw a jacket at the mall that I really like."

"No, brother, we're going shopping for some girl clothes." I was speechless.

"What kind of clothes does he need, dear?" Mom asked my sister.

But that wasn't what was on my mind. In amazement, I said, "Are you crazy!"

Sis then explained. "Dad, Mom, there's this Makeup and Hair Contest that a lot of the girls at the different beauty schools are competing in."

"No way, Jose!" I shot out.

"Yes, little brother, I want to use you for my model. The winner gets two thousand dollars, and if we win, you get half. Just think, all you have to do is let me practice a few more times on you and take one brief walk down a runway next Sunday, and

you could have a thousand dollars."

"Walk? Stage?" I'd be terrified to appear on stage as a boy, much less as a girl.

"Don't worry, I have it all planned out," Sis said reassuringly.

"No way are we ever going to win," I exclaimed.

Sis then went on to explain that the contest was for hair and makeup and the model was not that important and that since I had great hair and a flawless complexion, I would be in the running. She said that I would need to pick out a dress for the contest and other girl clothes to let me get a feel for walking and acting in women's clothing. She said that for the next 5 days, she wanted me to look and act as much as I could like a girl so I could get into the right "mindset," as she called it.

Everyone looked at each other. Dad spoke first, "Jean, honey, isn't this a bit extreme? Your poor brother will be seen by people dressed as female. Consider his reputation." Mom agreed with Dad.

But my sister was very persuasive, talking about the prize money and that the event wasn't likely to be attended by anyone outside the hair and makeup business.

"What about it, brother," Jean asked. I looked at Mom, at Dad, at Sis; looking for someone to make me decide one way or the other.

"Let me think about it," I said, "until tomorrow; then I'll tell you." Everyone agreed to that.

That night I washed off my makeup with some reluctance, thinking that this would probably be the last time I'd ever wear it. All that night, I tossed and turned, thinking about what it would be like to be a girl for 5 days. It was a scary thought, being a girl for 5 days. What if I made a horrible girl? Or worse, What if I was a really cute girl? I thought about it for a long time until I finally made up my mind that being a girl for 5 days was just too scary, and I fell asleep exhausted from overworking my brain.

The following day before I was even out of my room, the phone rang, and to my surprise, it was Ed, my best friend's older brother. I couldn't believe my ears. Ed said that he liked the way I looked. He said, "I mean, I know you're really smart, and now you're really pretty. Since I saw your Mom doing your hair, you've been on my mind; because you must really be brave to let her do this to you. And I

thought we could do something together, something casual."

"You mean you, you, like the way I looked, and you want us to do something together?" I asked him. For some reason, even good-looking guys made me as nervous as cute girls but in a different way.

Ya, I like your look; it's unique; you have a unique look. And yes, let's go someplace together," Ed replied.

"I can't, Ed, cause I have to go shopping for clothes, girl's clothes, but later on, or tomorrow, we can do something together, if you want".

"Hey, that's cool," he answered. Can I call you tonight to see if we can do something together tomorrow?"

"Sure," I said. "By." Geez, I thought, what a deal! One of the most handsome and coolest guys I've ever met wanted to be my friend. The girls must be crazy about him, and he likes me. How could I resist being with him? I hadn't gone out but a few times on an actual date and never did have much fun on them. But now I was going to hang out with a real hunk of a guy that girls would die to go out with.

"Sis," I called outside her door. "Can we go shopping for my clothes now? I guess I'm in the contest."

"Sure, brother. Come on in," she called back in a happy voice. Inside her room, she said that she needed to make me more passable. "The jeans look fine but here, put this on," she said, handing me one of her blouses. "It's the smallest one I have.

"And now this, " handing me her old high school cheerleader jacket that was long enough to hang down past my waist. She looked me over and announced, "As soon as we buy you a bra, you'll need to put it on to give you some shape." Jean was combing my hair into a ponytail and applying a bit of lipstick and powder in no time at all. Brother, no, I better call you Nicky, for your sake. Nicky, you look lovely. We better leave early, Nicky, in order to avoid as many people as we can. After all, this is your first time shopping, Nicky."

"Sis, if you call me that name one more time, I'm backing out of our deal."

"Ok, Ok; let's go, Nick. We have lots to buy: a bra, panties, pantyhose, dresses, skirts, blouses, nightgowns, slips, and of course shoes and some cosmetics of your own panties, skirt, blouses, bras, socks, shoes, and lots of other things."

"What! What do we need all those things for?" I said in disbelief. "Or are you just crazy for shopping?

No," she replied. "Like I said, you have to dress every minute of the day as a female until the contest so you can present yourself as one in the pageant." I began to realize that I was getting into something more than I bargained for.

I looked at myself in her mirror and protested. "Jean, I don't have any shape. No boobs. I'll never pass as a girl." But Sis insisted that I would pass, so I gave in. All the way driving to the store, Sis talked to me about how girls talk and walk and behave, but I wasn't listening very closely.

Thank goodness there weren't many girls in the Intimate Apparel department of Good's Young Miss Store. Sis looked over the bras thinking and looking. I could tell that she enjoyed making me squirm. "Sis, can't we hurry this up?" I begged.

"Find me a bra." I couldn't believe that I was anxious to put on a bra, but I really felt self-conscious about being flat-chested.

"Let's try these on," she said, taking my hand like I was a baby and leading me to the dressing room. In the dressing room, she helped me take off the jacket and unbuttoned the blouse. "Watch the door?" I said, nervous that someone would walk in on us. I slid my arms through the openings as she directed, and Sis fastened the clasps in the back and adjusted the straps, pulling here and adjusting there until she was satisfied. "Ok, we'll take this one. Now turn around and see yourself in the mirror in your first bra. Of course, when I saw myself, the bra didn't fill out, so I didn't have much of a shape, but Sis said she would take care of that. "Now try on this one." "Jean, one more?" I said in disbelief. "You think one bra is enough for a girl? Please, I know about bras! And I know girls." Jean left me for a few minutes while she said she explained to the sales lady that I would be wearing the bra. After taking off the tags, I put them back on.

Wearing a bra, I felt a lot more at ease. At this place, there weren't many salespeople, and none of them looked at me in a funny way. Most of the people just glanced at me like they would any other teenage girl.

There was a group of guys who stared a while, but Jean said they just thought I was cute. When she said that, I looked around to see them, hoping to give them a smile But they were gone.

As I pushed the cart, my sister piled the stuff into it: panties, all kinds, and colors; a nightgown, tops and matching shorts, skirts, blouses, and several really pretty dresses, which I tried on and really liked, a jacket, and lots of other things like a quick curling kit and my own rollers, hair bands, and my own comb and brush. I was getting tired but was also beginning to enjoying myself. As a guy, I never liked to shop, so shopping fun was new to me. Of course, all the time, I was thinking about what I would wear to go out with Ed. "And I'll need some casual stuff," I said to Sis.

"Girls need lots of things to look beautiful," Sis responded. So we bought tons of things. "Ah," Sis exclaimed, "almost forgot, jeans." So into the girl's jeans section, we went. Now there were lots of sizes and names to chose from. While I held open my jacket, Sis held pair after pair next to me. We must have carried into the dressing room a dozen pairs. Inside the dressing room, I had to try on each pair.

"Sis, can you wait outside?"

"Don't be silly; I've got to see if they fit you."

"Go ahead, go change. Turn your back to me," she said. "But it shouldn't bother you, now that you're my little sister. I liked what she said, so I just changed in front of her. I hung up my jacket, sat on the bench, and slid out of my jeans and into the new pair. I struggled so hard getting into the jeans that Sis started giggling and couldn't quit. I know I must have looked funny with my boy shorts and sagging

bra, fighting to get into tight straight-legged girl jeans.

"Quiet, Sis. This isn't easy, you know," I said.

The problem is that the more I tried on each pair of jeans, the more excited I got until finally, my penis was half in and half out of my jockey shorts. "I can't get into these.

"I can see that," Jean snickered. "We certainly can't have you walk around with that thing in your pants."

"But, I can't help it; all this dressing up and looking at girl's clothes has gotten to me."

"Can't you make it go down?"

"Are you kidding?" I answered. "Anyway, I'm getting too uncomfortable to go on shopping," I pleaded. "Let's go home."

"Hurry up, do something. We've got more shopping to do," my sister demanded.

"Like what. You think my dick takes orders from me!"

"There's only one thing I can think of, relieve yourself." With that, she fumbled in her purse and removed two hankies. "Here, use this. Just shoot your load in the hanky, and then we can continue our shopping," Jean said nonchalantly.

"Sis, I can't," I begged. "I just can't. I'm not used to doing it this way."

"Ok, I'll help you," and with that, she knelt in front of me and stroked my penis with her right hand while cupping the hanky with the other. "Come on, little brother, you can come; come on, shoot your load." Her fingers smeared the wetness at the tips and spread it down the shaft, greasing it all over. "Come on, brother, let me see you shoot you load."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I moaned, and with that, she steadied her hand and directed the hanky in front of my dick. My body shook as I relieved myself; once, twice, I shot streams of white liquid into the eagerly awaiting handkerchief.

"Ahhhhh," I sighed as a shiver went down my spine, and I let out a long breath of air.

In a minute, Sis was her old self, saying, "Hurry up brat, we've got more things to buy. See, you played with me, and I played with you." Carefully, like she was handling a bomb, she tied together with the ends of the hanky, leaving it to look like a

sagging bundle of candy. "Here, you get rid of this."

With that relief, I felt much better, and Sis finally she picked out several pairs.

After a few more items, Sis announced, "Shoes."

"Geez, Sis, can't that wait until another day?" I said.

"I bet not even Ed's coach made him practice as hard as we've shopped today."

"I see you have Ed on your mind," she giggled.

"Don't be silly," I replied.

The shoe department was the scariest place of all. There were a lot of women and girls my age looking for shoes. First, we walked around the department, looking for shoes that Sis liked. She said we needed a pair of pumps, sandals, and three-inch heels. When she saw me stare at the heels, she said that she probably wants me to wear the pumps for the pageant but wanted to buy both just in case she changed her mind. I didn't bother to ask why because I didn't want to slow her down or get into an explanation that other people might hear. I slipped on some pairs of the rack, just to learn the right size, but we needed a salesperson to get the right width.

Having someone touch my foot was kinda weird. Like when I tried on the heels, I had bare feet, and the sales lady helped fit my feet into the shoes. "How does it feel?" the lady asked. "Why not walk around in it for a minute," she suggested. But I had all I could do to stand up in them and had to lean the back of my legs against the chair to just stand up.

"Fine," I said. Sis looked them over and felt the shoes and my feet and announced that we would take them. "Oh, yes, and we need a pair of tennis shoes."

Finally, we were finished shopping, and I was worn out!. Our cart was full when we checked out, and the bill was over six hundred dollars. When I asked who was paying for this, she just answered, "a fairy godmother." I didn't continue the conversation because I just want to get home.

With all of us seated in the living room, Sis made a big deal over every little thing we bought, holding up each piece for Mom and Dad to see. Then if you can believe it, she passed each piece for them to examine. "What's the big deal," I finally had to say, "it's only something to wear." But I really was enjoying all the attention I was getting. No one ever showed any excitement over any boy clothes that I ever bought.

"Are you kidding," Jean shrieked. "Just something to wear!"

"Now, Jean," Mom said calmly, "he's only a boy, remember."

"Try them on," Dad suggested, "to be sure they fit, so you can take them back tomorrow if they don't."

"Good idea," Sis added and with a sparkle in her eye added, "Now he can practice modeling for you two before he makes his professional debut." I protested, saying I was tired of all this clothes business, but I was just dying to try them on in reality.

Sis and I left to change in her room. First, she removed the old makeup and applied evening makeup, as she called it. I was so excited thinking that this was my first fundamental transformation-- hair, makeup, and clothes, all at the same time. I shivered with such anticipation that Sis asked me if I was cold. She drew in my brown eyebrows, brushed my eyelids with a chocolate color eyeshadow, flicked my upper and lower eyelids once with black mascara, lined my lips with a luscious dark brown color,  and applied a nutmeg-colored lipstick.

Then with Sis' help, I put on my new white bra, the one with lace around all the edges and a flower pattern on the cups. It was beautiful. She handed me a pair of white panties, which I changed into in front of her without hesitation. With each outfit, she fixed my hair differently. Sis parted my hair in the middle for the skirts and blouses, gathered the hair towards the back of the head, and twisted it into two braids that hung below my shoulders. I told Jean that I was too old for braids, but she said she was making me look very young, teenage, and adult. For the blue jeans and oversize denim shirt, she combed my hair over to one side of my face. She pulled it into a fluffy ponytail, which I swished back and forth across my face as I pranced barefooted in front of my admiring parents. For the yellow sundress, Sis combed back the top and sides of my hair into a long wavy ponytail, leaving the rest of the hair to fall down my back. I was a little serious-looking as I paraded in front of Mom and Dad, but broke into a smile when I heard them say, "isn't that just darling" "isn't that so sweet," "doesn't he make a cute girl," and "what an adorable outfit." There were even some chuckles from everyone that I wasn't sure about. Maybe because I never walked in a bra before and sort of pushed out my chest too much. I felt like those fashion models when they hurry down the walkway and then go back for a frantic change of clothes. Finally, for the contest dress, she twisted my hair in the back and pulled it to the top of my head and, using a lot of pins, teased the hair into a mass of curls. She worked so fast that she was done in minutes between each change of clothing. We were all having so much fun that I hated it to end. Mom was almost in tears, and Dad kept saying over and over, "I can't believe how cute he looks." Finally, when we were finished, Mom gave me a kiss on the cheek, and would you believe it? Dad did the same but gave me a kiss and a big tight hug. I guess he just forgot for a minute that I was his son and not his daughter. It wasn't until past eleven at night that the show broke up, and I walked upstairs to my bedroom.

Sis caught me at the landing. "Here, use this to take off your makeup," handing me a squeeze bottle. "And here, where are you girl pj's and nightgown when you get up in the morning; be sure to wear it. Remember, think girl thoughts. For 5 days, you're a girl, all-girl," she said repeated several times.

"Thanks," I said, wrapping my arms around the boxes.

"Did you like what we did today," she whispered, "you know in the dressing room?" I looked around. "Ya, sure, Did you?"

"Yes, of course, I did," Sis whispered so softly that I wasn't sure I had heard her or just read her lips. "I could do it again for you if you wanted me to. I don't mind.

"Na, I'm too tired," I said and walked into my room.

That night, I squiggled and squirmed not only because I was wearing my first pair of panties and first girl pajamas but also because I thought a lot about what was happening to me and what might happen. Like, Ed said he would call, but would he? Was I beginning to like looking like a girl more than I should? Everyone was having so much fun with me dressed like a girl, would they would be disappointed with me as a boy after the pageant. And what was this attraction Sis had for me all of a sudden? If I wasn't so tired, I never would have gotten to sleep, but I was soon in dreamland.