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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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