textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/toys-022.txt

                                    II.

     Bobbie stood up too quickly. "Shit! I did it again!" Annoyed, he tugged
and pulled his rubber girdle back down. Sheila hadn't been kidding at the 
treasure trove of dated clothes stored away in her attic and Bobbie was 
being introduced to Fifties fashions with a vengeance.

     Bobbie's first encounter had been with the dreaded thick rubber girdle.
Hot, sweaty and confining, he found his hips molded into too smooth, 
ultra-feminine curves. The wide waist band forcefully compressed his middle, 
only to add emphasis to his now outrageously matronesque rear. Where were 
his sleek hips?

     Girdles have garter tabs and garter tabs hold up hosiery. Sheila had 
found lots of carefully rolled hose, each pair in a separate satin bag - 
seamed hose, patterned hose, fishnet hose, in a dozen shades and in a variety 
of lengths. Bobbie had been used to the drill of working pantyhose up his 
legs. Somehow it was different, more demeaning to be going through all the
complicated rituals of old-fashioned hosiery. First, there was the rolling 
the stocking up the leg, careful to keep the pattern or seam straight. Next, 
Bobbie had to fit and adjust each garter, while he wondered why there were so 
many of the damn things, to ensure that his stockings were well-fitted and 
taut.

     Indeed, the very pull of his taut garter straps, passed under his lace 
and satin panties, was a distracting reminder of his new-found, dated 
femininity. Feeling his garters tug with his every step, Bobbie couldn't 
ignore how different his crossdressing had become, how uncomfortable, how 
old-fashioned and how humiliating.

     Sheila had insisted on long-line bras, waist-cinches, corsets and the 
like. They crushed Bobbie's waist still more and pushed his immature, 
masculine breasts into high hard cones. The way the straps of his bra pulled 
his shoulders back, the way his girdle hampered his steps, Bobbie was being 
molded away from his personal ideal of an elegant, leggy modern fashion model 
into an hour-glass Fifties glamour queen.

     Today, he was wearing a black satin sheath. It had a high neckline and 
long sleeves. His hem line was below the knee but the dress was absolutely 
skin-tight. Every step was a planned event.

     'Babs, get in here!"

     Sheila was a bitch as a boss. The last time Bobbie had stood up to her, 
Sheila had left him standing outside, dressed only in a girdle, heels and 
handcuffs. His pale, flaccid member had dangled ridiculously, ribboned in 
pink. Sheila had made Bobbie beg like a dog to get back in. Ever since then, 
Sheila had called Bobbie "Babs", her pet name for her totally tamed sissy.

     "Well, Babs baby, here's a chance to strut your stuff. The lawyers just 
called and said that the other side wants to take a deposition from you. As 
I understand it, we have to meet the other side's lawyers and let them ask 
you questions."

     "Now, I know how much you dazzled our former landlord with your sexy 
ways, so I want you to knock yourself out, just look your absolute drop-dead 
best for this. In fact, I've been up in the attic and did a little searching 
around."

     "I found the perfect outfit for you and something really exciting. I
found some old makeup, still all sealed so I think it's okay. And some hair 
stuff too. So, we'll just make a beauty parlor time of it, all to help you 
make the right impression."

     Sheila smiled evilly and waited for the humiliated  male to reply. 
Bobbie, stammering, began, hoping that Sheila was only joking.

     "Really, Boss, do we need to do all that? After all, pretty soon, we'll 
win the lawsuit, the print shop can open and I can pay you back. If we change 
my hair to much and things, it will take a long time for me to get back to a 
masculine look."

     "Frankly, Babs, I don't know when this court case is going to end. In 
the meantime, I see no reason why you shouldn't enjoy all the wonderful 
things living as a woman entitle you to do. Like changing your hair style, 
or giving yourself a totally new look."

     "And by the way, the deli dropped off your lunch." Bobbie minced back 
to his desk. The receptionist had run Bobbie's lunch up while he had been 
in with Sheila. Double milk shake, two jumbo orders of cheese fries - extra 
cheese, fried chicken. Everything was fattening. Bobbie looked in the mirror, 
turned and looked at his rear. He was getting fat and Sheila seemed to like 
him that way. After all, she always ordered his meals for him.

     No sooner had Bobbie finished eating than Sheila handed Babs/Bobbie his 
purse and dragged him out the door.

     "I think I might just whip you off to the beauty salon now. Let's have 
a professional do you up. I bet they can do miracles with you." Beaten again, 
Bobbie trailed along.