‘I’m a ballerina, Boston. In my pretty little tutu. Oh how I love my sheer tights. In America they call them pantyhose! I like the sound of that. ...anty. Hose. Pantyhose! As soon as I saw you I wanted to be your special sissy, wissy,’ he said, as he dreamily looked up. Ethan paused and put a finger on his lip. ‘Now I need to inspect your leotard…’ Ethan grinned hungrily and crawled onto the bed, his tutu exposing the tight sheen of his leotard arse. ‘Why is your leotard hard?’ said Ethan, as he. While Mrs. Jennings was busy with the sheet, Sarah had grabbed her mother's wig off its stand. She shook it violently for a few seconds, and then used a stiff brush to fluff it out. Once Dave's sister was satisfied, she stood behind me and pushed the wig firmly onto my head. I watched myself in the mirror change from being a boy in a dress to a young woman with long, blonde hair. Sarah took the brush again and stroked the wig to get it just right. Mrs. Jennings left and returned with a large,. More

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