Archive-name: Changes/gretchen.07
Archive-author: Amelia Allbyte
Archive-title: On Becoming Gretchen - 7


Chapter Seven

Miss Irene made an inspection of the washing and ironing. After
finding a few pleats in one skirt ironed incorrectly, which I had
to do over, she grudgingly approved my work.

She ordered me to bathe and to prepare myself wit clothes I would
find on my bed. When I was ready, I was to report to the den for
her inspection and scrutiny.

After bathing, I went to find my clothes on the bed as I was
instructed. The dress Miss Irene had chosen for me was a long
sleeved gown of a sheer crepe-like material. It was peach-colored
and lavishly ornamented with sequins, which gliitered and
sparkled as it moved. It had a high empress-style waistline. A
bright diamond-shaped pin, covered with rhinestones, was placed
between the breasts, accenting the bustline. The gown was
floor-length and draped seductively from my hips to the floor. It
had a side slit almost to the waist which gave an occasional
tantalizing glimpse of a long expanse of nylon-clad leg.

The lingerie consisted of matching panties, strapless bra, garter
belt, and a long half-slip that also had a side slit. The long
sheer hose also had a faint peach cast to match my dress. There
was a pair of shoes with at least a four-inch spiked heel in same
color to match the gown.

There was a necklace a pair of dangling earrings which I inserted
into my pierced ears. The jewelry was pearl (I don't think they
were real pearls, but they sure did look nice).

Needless to say, I took extra special pains and utilized my
growing skill to put on my makeup and brush out my wig. For a
fleeting moment I wished my own hair was long enough for it to be
femininely styled.

You used to read those stories about how some guy got himself
dressed up and turned out to be more beautiful and glamorous than
his girlfriend. Not me. There was no way I could approach Irene's
beauty or attractiveness. My reflection was that of a rather
attractive young lady, one who appeared naive, almost virginal,
but wanting to appear as a sophisticated young lady of the world.

I suddenly realized that I was enjoying my feminization! What was
happening to me? I had never had the leats desire to 'dress up'
before. Now I gloried in it. In fact, I could hardly wait to join
Miss Irene and hope for her approval of my girlish appearance.

I decided that later I would have to analyze my feelings. Right
now it wouldn't do to make Miss Irene wait for me while I
pondered on this concept.

With a bit of trepidation I went to meet Miss Irene in the den,
stumbling a little as my heels were higher than any I had worn
previously. Also, I tended to trip as I was not used to such a
long skirt.


Miss Irene was waiting for me, similarly clad in a long evening
gown. However, where mine was of an innocent pastel color and
relatively modest except for the side slit, hers was of flaming
red, backless, with a plunging neckline exposing the deep
cleavage between her breasts.

The difference carried deeper than our appearance. I was shy,
diffident, and rather nervous. Hell, I never thought I'd be
forced into feminine attire, much less a glamorous evening gown.

Miss Irene, on the other hand, was confident, self-assured, and
well aware of the lovely vision she presented. There was no doubt
that she was the dominant personality.

When she saw me, she smiled, "Why, Gretchen, you look charming!
Turn around and let me see all of you."

I obeyed, doing a slight pirouette and replied, "Thank you, Miss
Irene. I must say that you look quite attractive yourself."

For tonight, let's dispense with the 'Miss'. You have docilely
accepted your status for the last couple of days, except, of
course, for the bit of rebellion that I effectively quelled.
Other than, that, you have been quite cooperative and are
adapting well to your new role. Tomorrow at this time, you'll
either be dead or starting on an intensive training course to
prepare you to be an obedient subject to me and other members of
the Sisters of Circe."

"Who are these Sisters of Circe and this Mistress Circe you keep
referring to?"

"I may explain to you later. But first, if you look in the
freezer, you'll find two prepared meals. If you will put them in
the microwave for about thirty minutes, they'll be ready.
Meanwhile, I'll fix us a couple of drinks while we're waiting."

Well, I did and she did. When I returned from the kitchen, she
had a couple of Martinis in lovely long-stemmed crystal glasses.
They were potent. I think she forgot to take the cork out of the
vermouth bottle. The only thing I could see diluting the gin were
the olives, and they were small.

We had three before the microwave signaled that dinner was ready.
In any event, I was feeling the effect of them before we started
to eat.

The meal was fantastic: rock Cornish hens stuffed with some sort
of wild rice dressing and all of the trimmings. Its amazing what
they can do with frozen prepared meals these days.

After the meal we sat together on the overstuffed couch in the
den. It wasn't real cold but Irene started a small fire in the
fireplace. The flames began flickering hypnotically. At the same
time, Irene began plying us with Brandy Alexanders. Smooth and
potent. Like being hit with velvet sledge hammers. After the last
few days of involuntary servitude, I was enjoying this evening
immensely.

Irene took one of my hands in hers. The other she draped about my
shoulders, pulling me close and laying my head on her shoulder.
"How do you like being a girl?" she asked softly.

"Right now I'm enjoying it to the Nth degree. I feel like I have
sole possession of cloud nine," I replied. Strangely enough, I
did.

Now, I've heard of guys getting a kick out of wearing feminine
clothes and always thought of them as a bit nuts and kind of
sissified. But I must say I was enjoying wearing my clothes
immensely. The taut suspension of my bra and the gentle swell of
my breasts when I looked down at them was very sensuous. The
gossamer nylon hose seemed to add a soft sheen to my legs, and I
could feel the sheerness of them when I happened to rub my legs
together. Even the slight tug of my garter belt felt natural and
gave me a comfortable feeling knowing that it was holding my
nylons up and keeping them free of wrinkles. I decided then and
there that I liked the garter belt and nylons much better than
panty hose.

The gown and slip felt comfortable and natural and my skin
tingled where the hem dangled about my ankles. When the side slit
fell apart and displayed an expanse of nylon-clad leg it added a
sense of daring and a feeling of feminine vulnerability.

My genitals, imprisoned by the sheer silky nylon of my panties
was eroticism personified. I don't believe that I could make a
movement without becoming aware of their soft and gentle
confinement.

I realized that I was now hooked. Even if, by some far-fetched
chance, I was able to manage an escape, I would still be a
prisoner to my newfound desire to wear feminine clothing for the
rest of my life.

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