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. --