30-TV FICTION CLASSICS

The stage manager said, “Okay girls, you're up!"

My sister grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the stage. The music started, I automatically danced and sung my practiced part. I couldn't believe it was me on stage. My face turned a bright red. I saw the audience laughing and applauding to our antics. They loved our act, two young sisters singing and swinging to the sounds of old "big band" tunes. At the end, we swayed and shimmied our hips, then did leg kicks along the lines of old vaudeville follies. The act went perfectly.

We ran off stage and the audience wanted more. I could hardly take a breath, the twin padded mounds on my chest rising and falling quickly.

The stage manager said, "You girls are great! Go back out and take a bow."

I followed my sister to center stage, swinging my hips and walking proudly. She took my hand as we curtsied to the audience. I trembled from the excitement. The audience loved me...as a girl. I knew the first several rows could see my panties under the short skirt.

I was hooked. I loved it. I loved the applause...applause for me as a girl. A girl in a short flashy dress, nylons, heels, and long curled hair.

My sister saw it in my eyes when I asked for the lipstick to re-freshen my lips. She handed it to me saying, "It's going to be tough getting you back in boy's clothes. I don't care, I like having a sister.

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That night my mother came into my room and handed me a frilly nightgown of hers. "Here, wear this. Son, you were wonderful today. An booking agent told me she had several offers for you two to perform for money. Would you want to do that?"

"Gee mom, I don't know...what if someone found out?"

Mom thought for a moment and answered, "We'd have to make sure you were perfect...I mean as a girl. You know, hundreds of people seeing you perform, you'd better never show any 'boy', Okay?"

My heart was thumping against my chest. My mother said leaving, "Okay, as of this moment, you're my daughter. I don't

"ALL DOLLED UP" -31

want to see you in anything but girl's clothes. Before you go to sleep, I want you to say one hundred times, I am Bambi, I am a girl.'

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I had trouble sleeping. How long would I have to be a girl? I was worried, but I couldn't wait to stand before an audience again in lingerie and dresses.

My sister and I worked out a 'sister' act that was booked several times a month in speciality theaters. I was surprised at how much it paid. My mother decided to "manage" us full time. We had the nicest clothes and spent thousands on

costumes.

As the bookings poured in, my sister and mother firmly confirmed my transformation by making sure I was perfect. Their method wasn't to point out any maleness, but to keep me absorbed in feminine interests. My hair had to be set in curlers nightly, my nails filed and polished, makeup applied and refreshed, costumes to be sewn and repaired. This left time only to practice our act, dance lessons and sleep.

During one performance, I lost an earring. The very next day, to my objections, mother had my ears pierced. From that day on, the earrings danced against my cheeks as I danced...never to lose one again.

The money poured in, so Mom hired a tutor and we toured around doing shows. She came to me one day and asked, "Would you like to grow breasts?"

"Breasts?"

"Sure, you can take female hormones. Since your male ones haven't started flowing strong yet, I've found a doctor who said you could develop teenage girl's figure in a year. Are you game?"

I couldn't eat breakfast the morning I was to see the doctor. Mother chatted merrily about this and that, but I was nervous. To mother, it seemed so inevitable that I should develop breasts. I asked mother, "I'm scared, does it hurt or anything having breasts or taking hormones?"

Mother laughed, "You are so feminine now, they will just help push your system into the feminine range. It will take you