Having been 'read by her Auntie Beverly, Michael, (Now Michelle,) starts out on the sweetest of journeys as a sissy.
She enjoys her first delightful shopping expedition and learns of the joys of shopping for clothes.
Such a lucky, lucky sissy!

PS. Ignore the little message at the end. This was during my posting to Fictionmania. I'll still be posting the new chapters to FM. It's important not to forget ones roots.

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Chapter 3 The Sissy farm.

By the time I had dried my nails and remedied my ‘condition’ I returned to find Janice sitting on Aunty Bev’s bed while Aunty Bev was combing her hair. Janice was obviously enjoying the attention and I could not help but look enviously as the comb slid easily through her long, golden, lustrous hair. Aunty Bev caught my envious look and smiled knowingly as she swept her hands under Janice’s hair and it cascaded softly over Janice's shoulders. It looked just like the hair in a shampoo advert.

“D’you like her hair?”

I nodded enviously and settled on the bed beside my little sister. She turned and smiled at me and I couldn’t resist sweeping my hands under her hair to watch it cascade again down her shoulders.

“It’s lovely.” I sighed.

“D’you think you’d like hair like this?” Asked Aunty Bev as she repeated the cascade thing one last time.

“It’s very nice, but I’m a boy.”

At this Janice turned again and smiled as she revealed what she and Aunty Bev had been talking about as Aunty Bev had been treating her nails and combing her hair.

“You could have hair like this if you were a sissy.”

For a moment I blushed then frowned painfully as I realised the Aunty Bev had revealed more than she should. I cried despairingly.

“You shouldn’t have sai, -“

Aunty Bev gently placed her finger on my lips and ‘shushed’ me to be silent.

“Don’t be upset. Janice says she’d love it if she had a sister.”

“But I’m a boy! How can I be her sister?”

Janice interrupted eagerly.

“You could be my sissy friend. Dress just like a girl and then be my sister.”

“But what about g, - going out? What about school?”

Janice fell silent. I suspected she’d thought of me being something like a doll to play with. She hadn’t thought about the other stuff. Aunty Bev intervened.

“You’ve only just moved here during the holidays. You haven’t even been enrolled in a school yet. We could dress you up as a girl and send you to a special school, a school for sissies.”

I fell silent. I had never heard of such a thing as a school for sissies. Whilst being nervous, the idea intrigued me.

“A school for sissies. What’s that like?”

Aunty Bev smiled and stood up.

“I’ll explain while you put my stockings on. Go and get the garter belt and the stockings.

I picked them up off the dressing table and returned with them as I felt the seven denier stockings hiss delicately over my smooth soft hands. Aunty Bev smiled as she recognised the feminine nature of my girlish hands.

“See darling, aren’t they just so delicate and smooth. Now clip my suspender belt around my waist.”

I did this as Janice watched in fascination then Aunty Bev sat down on the dressing table stool and extended one leg gracefully. I unthinkingly tucked the stocking into a ‘rabbit-hole’ and checked the seam before slowly working the stocking up Aunty Beverly’s long smooth leg.

“Methinks you’ve done this before my little sissy. That was just perfect.”

So saying she stood up and I carefully clipped the suspenders to the stocking welt. There were three clips for each stocking and I savoured the closeness of my face to Aunty Bev’s lady parts as I fiddled with the clips and sensed her soft peachy skin. Then she had me ‘adjust’ them so that the tension was just right. She gave a little shudder as I smoothed the welt and adjusted the stocking top right up close to her secret parts.

“That’s uh-uh close enough my little sissy, thank you!”

I sensed that Aunty Bev was enjoying this every bit as much as I and I stood up again proffering the second stocking. She sighed and sat down on the stool again as I repeated the process with her other leg.

Eventually Aunty Bev stood there in her beautiful lingerie and did a twirl in the mirror. Janice gave an excited little clap whilst I just stood staring enviously. I was totally under the spell of lingerie and Aunty Beverly could readily see it.

“You two had better go and get dressed if we’re going shopping girls.”

I hesitated as a shiver of anticipation swept through my body.

“Had Aunty Beverly just called me a girl? I wasn’t sure if I liked the sound of this, but then, - girls seemed to have all the nice clothes.”

Once back in my own bedroom, I felt a twinge of indecision and I stood staring at the heap of dishevelled underwear hurriedly stuffed under my bed.

‘Did Aunty Bev really call me a girl?’ I thought as my toe prodded uncertainly at the discarded lingerie.
Reluctantly, I decided I would not risk going out whilst secretly wearing ladies lingerie.
‘What if I had an accident?’ I pondered. ‘No it had to be boy’s pants and I reluctantly kept on the pair I had been wearing since getting up.

Slowly I opened my wardrobe drawer and took out a tee shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. Then I chose my favourite trainers and pushed my feet into a fresh pair of socks. Within moments I was ready and I bounced down the stairs to make my breakfast. As I dug into my quickly prepared porridge Aunty Beverly and Janice appeared. Aunty Bev glanced at my outfit and I saw a flicker of disappointment cross her eyes. She and Janice were dressed in smart outfits and I could see the regret in Aunty Bev’s eyes.

“I’ll, - I’ll go and change if you want. I didn’t think it was to be an important day.”

“N, - no. It’s OK Michael.” Replied Aunty Bev. “It’s just that I was hoping this would be a special day, especially for you.”

“Why?”

“Well, the shopping was mainly for you. You know, - some special stuff.”

My eyes widened with surprise as I realised what she was talking about.

“What you mean girly stu, -” I suddenly realised what I was saying in front of Janice and I quickly stopped talking.

“Well. Well yes darling. The other stuff obviously doesn’t fit.”

“But Aunty Bev. I can’t, - you know, - just go and buy stuff like that. I mean I’m a boy.”

“It has to start somewhere darling if you really like being a sissy.”

My lower lip trembled a bit as indecision started to take a grip of my self-confidence.

“But Aunty,” I whined. “I mean going into a girl’s shop and, -“

“Very well then, if you don’t want to come, you can stay home. We’ll be back about fiveish.”

“No! No, I want to come, I mean, -. Well, I like shopping.” I confessed reluctantly.

“Ah. Now that’s a good girl. All girls like shopping and sissies do too. I knew you’d see sense. Anyway, there’s no need to change. We’ll only be buying underwear.”

I whipped my head around to see if Janice understood the import of Aunty Beverly’s words, but it seemed to pass straight over her head. I glanced nervously at Aunty Bev and nodded my head slightly. Aunty Bev smiled and reached out to hug me as she spoke.

“I knew you’d come to understand darling. You’ll love it.”

I sighed with relief but then Janice piped up.

“Goodie! Michael’s going to be my sissy sister!”

Fortunately Aunty Bev had the sense to scold Janice.

“Now, now dear! You mustn’t go shouting that. This is our own little secret. Michael doesn’t want all the boys knowing about it, OK?”

Janice subsided and finished eating the porridge I had given her. As I took her plate I whispered feverishly.

“Nobody’s to know! Right?”

“OK.” Giggled Janice as she hugged herself with the importance of the new big secret. I looked at her with a worrying sense of foreboding.

‘Oh God!’ I thought. ‘Every thing could go just so wrong!’
Had I but known it, I would never have agreed to the whole adventure but now I was more or less committed to it. As Aunty Bev parked up at the mall I felt the first twist of fear in my tummy as she led me boldly into a lingerie shop and then started to stroll up and down the rows and rows of lingerie. Fortunately it was fairly early morning, mid week and not many people were about. Though several women and younger girls looked askance as Aunty Bev held up some delicious lingerie in ‘little miss’ sizes and measured them against me.

“D’you like this style?” She asked softly.”

Fear caused me to say yes but I realised my ordeal was not over yet. After agreeing to the very first selection, Aunty Bev then led me down more aisles.

“But aunty,” I protested. “I’ve got some now. Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh good gracious Michelle. A girl needs more than one set of lingerie. Look, this is nice. Do you like it?”

“I swallowed fearfully as she called me by the feminine equivalent of my boy’s name Michael.”

“That’s not my name!” I protested in a hoarse whisper.

“Well I can’t call you Michael! Not in here anyway! Just pretend you’re a girl and everybody will just think you’re a recalcitrant tom-boy.”

“By now the shop was filling up so I concluded that Aunty Bev’s suggestion was the only way to go. If I was going to try and pass for a girl then I’d better start behaving like a girl. I started mincing and holding my hands like a limp-wristed sissy. Aunty Bev caught me and giggled.

“Not too femme Michelle. We haven’t got you girlied up yet. Come on. We’d better try these for size.”
I sighed with relief as she collected several more sets of ‘little miss’ bras and panties then approached the lady outside the changing rooms. My stomach nearly bottomed out as Aunty Beverly explained confidently.

“It’s my niece. She’s a right little tomboy but I’m afraid that time is coming.”

The shop assistant studied me disinterestedly then gave Aunty Bev the reclaim tags. It was obvious that I had been taken for a typically recalcitrant young girl who was reluctantly being forced to acknowledge the onset of puberty. I was shocked that I had been accepted so readily for a tomboy.

‘Crickey’, I thought, ‘did I really look that girly?’
Naturally, Janice followed us into the cubicle but it was pointless for me to protest. How could Aunty Beverly leave an eight-year-old girl standing outside the changing rooms?

“Now try these on.” Ordered Aunty Bev.

I stepped out of my outer clothes and tried to step into the panties whilst leaving my underpants on. Aunty Bev snorted derisively.

“Don’t be silly young lady. Take those stupid things off!”

“But Janice, - she’ll, -“

“Don’t be stupid girl. Janice has seen you thousands of times in the bathroom, I’m sure.”

This was true but now I was in ladies’ changing rooms trying on panties. Janice piped up loud enough for everybody to hear.

“It’s OK. I’ve seen it before!”

I felt a wave of nausea engulf me and even Aunty Beverly nearly lost it. Almost every body in the world knew what little girls were talking about then they spoke of ‘having seen it!’ I wasn’t sure if Janice was being totally innocent or doubly malicious. I glared at her and made a threatening gesture with my arm. Janice got the message. Whatever she had done was unacceptable because even Aunty Beverly glared and raised her finger in warning. After that, Janice knew enough to keep quiet. Fortunately we were the first into the fitting rooms and nobody else had arrived yet. Aunty Beverly checked the other cubicles and ascertained that no damage had been done. She returned to our cubicle and I spent a wonderful twenty minutes trying on different styles. My heart overfilled with delight when Aunty Bev decided I could keep all the lingerie sets however there was another ordeal to follow.

“Now, you’ll have to wear one set immediately darling. It’ll look strange if you don’t come out wearing your first bra. Go on, choose your favourite.”

Reluctantly I put one on. It was the one I most preferred and looking back, I realise now that I had rather given myself away that fateful day. It was the frilliest bra with lovely scalloped lacing on the shoulder straps. Once I had my tee shirt over it and I studied my appearance in the mirror I gasped with shock. The frilly red, outline was as plain as day through the plain white cotton tee shirt. I gulped with surprise and tried protesting. When this didn’t work, I tried pleading but Aunty Bev seemed unmoved.

“But Aunty Bev!” I cried piteously. “I still look like a boy, a boy wearing a bra. Look, you can see it under my tee shirt.
With my short hair, there’s no hiding that I’m a boy!”

“Don’t be silly Michelle. You look just like a tomboy having to accept that she’s going to have to get used to bras. Come on. There’s lot’s more shopping yet! By the way I think you’ve made an excellent choice, that’s a really pretty bra. It looks lovely, even under that dowdy old tee shirt. Come on. It’s time for a coffee.”

I followed Aunty Bev and Janice out of the changing rooms and stood petrified as Aunty Bev paid for my new underwear at the counter. This meant queuing up in a longish line of other women and I could feel their eyes examining my appearance. I was too scared to meet their stares but I could hear the occasional whisper whilst their stares seemed to be boring a hole in my back. Aunty Beverly also noticed the undue attention so she spoke up quite loud enough for most of the other ladies and daughters to hear.

“Stay close Michelle. You’re growing into a big girl now and I can’t have you running wild like some tomboy for much longer. You’ll soon understand why.”

This seemed to settle the other women and I realised that Aunty Bev had more or less declared that I was just a naughty tomboyish girl who as having to come to terms with her hormones. I visibly calmed down as the whispering stopped and my nervous glances were met with knowing smiles. I could almost read the other ladies’ minds.

‘Crickey!’ I gasped inwardly, ‘they genuinely thought I was a girl and they were mentally inviting me into the sisterhood, into womanhood no less.’
My calming down appeared to resemble a sort of physical passive acknowledgement of my approaching condition and the tensions in the queue visibly relaxed. Soon Aunty Bev had paid and we left to get some coffee.
At the table Aunty Bev explained.

“See Petal. As soon as they realise you’re just a little tomboy, they take everything for granted. You know when your hair grows out; you’ll make a very pretty sissy.”

As I stirred my coffee desultorily Janice was all over me with excitement.

“Does it feel nice? I wish I could wear one.”

I wanted to snap at Janice but I couldn’t. In truth I really did like the strange sensation of the bra’s chest band squeezing my chest while the shoulder straps tugged over my shoulders and down my back. I could even feel the under-wired cups sort of pushing up the tiny bit of flesh in my pectorals. As I stared down at my coffee with my head in my hands I could see the tiny mounds formed under my tee shirt. I hadn’t realised it but ‘little miss’ bras had a tiny amount of shaped padding to help young girls feel confident. As the shaped inserts pushed at my flesh and forced it upwards, I actually had little mounds sticking out under my tee shirt. Aunty Janet quickly recognised my defensive hunched posture and she tut-tutted.

“Just look at you Michelle. Sit upright. Girls are proud of their breasts.”

I heaved a nervous sigh and sat upright only to see the frilly red mounds almost leap out to demand attention despite the cotton tee shirt. Aunty Bev smiled approvingly.

“That’s better Petal. Now, finish your coffee and we’ll see about some shoes.”

Once again I was traipsing around the mall and soon began to feel more eyes upon me; some puzzled, some contemptuous and some downright predatory. I was actually grateful when we stepped into a shoe shop. At first, Aunty Bev had me stroll along the long shelves of shoes as she hugged my shoulder.

“What sort of shoes do you want?”

I pointed to some trainers but Aunty Bev bent down to explain.

“Not trainers darling. I mean proper shoes, sandals, with high heels and perhaps some Mary Jane’s for school. You can have trainers of course. Girls have trainers just like boys but I want you to choose some nice shoes as well. Have you any preferences?”

I wagged my head. Besides trainers I had hardly worn any other shoe since my parent’s funeral and I had outgrown the formal black shoes that matched my mourning suit that awful day. Aunty Bev seemed to read my confusion and being ever so supportive she adopted a tactful helpful mode.

“OK then, pick out your trainers first. Just remember we want girly ones. Something like this.”

She took a pink and yellow trainer of the shelf and held it to my foot.

“D’you want to try this on?”

I studied it and wagged my head as my eye caught a much prettier pink and white shoe on the next shelf up. Aunty Bev followed my eye and she smiled approvingly.

“Oh yes, much prettier. Here, try it on.”

I loosened my scruffy old trainers and extended my foot.

“Oh take that filthy old sock off darling. You’ll have to wear much nicer socks than those.

I tugged off the sock and extended my bare foot as Aunty Bev tried the trainer on. It was too small so she called over an
assistant.

“The next size in these and have you anything else similar for my niece.”

The girl smiled and sped away to reappear with several boxes. I was slightly bemused until Aunty Bev explained.

“Girls like to try lots of different styles. You can choose any two types.”

By now I was getting into the swing of things. Shopping was just so much fun! Naturally, Janice declared that she wanted a two pairs as well but Aunty Bev put her foot down.

“I’m not made of money darling. This is Michelle’s treat. You can only have one pair.”

Janice sulked for a bit but I soon cheered her up.

“We can choose one matching pair so that we look the same. Which ones do you like?”

As Janice held up her preference Aunty Bev smiled at me then kissed my cheek again. She whispered her approval.

“That was really considerate darling. You’ll make Janice a lovely big sister.”

Once again I felt that shiver of uncertainty.

‘Did I really want to be Janice's big sister?’

After the trainers, Aunty Bev took me into new territory. She led me towards the sandal shelves and had me remove my favoured footwear as she took down some very girly type shoes. As I stepped out of the trainers she smiled and hugged my shoulders again as she explained.

“These are what we girls call sandals. They’re not like men’s sandals that are flat with thick leather straps and heavy buckles. These are girl’s dress sandals with pretty delicate straps and high heels see.”
She held one up for me to finger as she turned it around in front of my eyes.

“See. They come in all sorts of colours and designs and even the heels are different heights. Would you like to try some?”

My eyes widened as I drank in the delightful colours and I reached out tentatively to touch a bright red pair. Aunty Bev smiled as she fingered the peep-toe tip and the two-inch heel.

“You like red don’t you. You chose the red bra and panty set.”

I didn’t reply but my eyes gave me away. She gently pressed my shoulders and made me sit on the fitting seat as she eased my foot into the sandal then buckled it to my foot. I rose to try standing but she prevented me.

“It’s no good trying to stand with just one shoe. We’ll need the other. Does it feel comfortable?”
As I nodded She motioned the assistant again who realised she had another sale and slipped away into the back room. Once again she reappeared with several styles and quickly replaced Aunty Bev at my feet. Quickly she secured the sandal as she looked up and smiled.

“Are these your first heels?”

I nodded shyly and she reached up to help me to my feet. Naturally I wobbled and swayed but the heels were only two inches and I managed several steps before turning and teetering back to the seat. There I stopped and remained standing as I slowly accustomed myself to the strange new posture. Aunty Bev and the assistant stepped back and smiled approvingly as the assistant spoke again.

“Take another walk, right around the shop then tell us how they feel.”

I glanced at Aunty Bev who nodded encouragement.

“Go on. Try it.”

I turned again, teetered as I recovered my balance then set off cautiously down the aisle. As I turned at the end, Aunty Bev and the assistant stepped between the aisles to watch my progress. After another aisle Aunty Bev approached me and nodded approvingly.

“You’re doing well Petal but take smaller strides.”

I shortened my stride and found it easier to keep my balance as I strode with increased confidence. Then I noticed as my step became firmer the heels began to click loudly as the struck the floor. Suddenly I remembered the familiar noise that mummy’s heels always made when we were out as a family. Her heels had always clicked loudly and rapidly as she kept up with daddy’s longer stride. I stepped a little firmer to emphasise the clacking and Aunty Bev grinned as she recognised my ploy.

“That’s my girl. It announces to everybody that a woman is approaching. Just remember that it also tells the predator that a girl is nearby. Heels are great to feel girly but you’ll never be able to outrun a man in them.”

“What’s a predator aunty?”

“You’ll learn soon enough. D’you want to walk home in them?”

“Can I?” I squeaked excitedly thus betraying my root femininity.

“OK darling but you’d best get a nice frock or something to match them. Those jeans look terrible.”

“Aaah! Do I have to? Lot’s of girls wear jeans.”

“Not with good shoes like that. Besides we’ve got one more pair to buy.”

“What. I asked, puzzled.”

“Your Mary Jane Shoes for school. You can’t walk around in those heels all the time. You’ll damage your young feet. Heels are only for special times. Come along.”

I traipsed behind Aunty Bev and she quickly picked out some awful, school type shoes; glossy black with no heel and a single thick strap and buckle over the instep.

“Uugh!” I grimaced.

“Don’t worry darling, these will be for school. All the children wear this type in your new school. They are called Mary Jane’s.”

I tried them on, ensured they were a comfortable fit, then quickly reverted to my lovely red heels. I wondered what sort of school a ‘sissy school’ was if the boys had to wear Mary Jane Shoes.

I did not have time to ponder for long though. Aunty Bev soon had us out of the shop and my heels clicked sharply as my ten-year-old legs scurried along to keep up with Aunty Bev. I felt a bit jealous of my younger sister Janice skipping easily along in her new pink trainers. What was more disconcerting were the looks I got. Despite my heels and clearly visible bra under my tee shirt, I still looked to some like a boy. The mixed looks I got unsettled me. Some were smiles as the watcher recognised a tomboy growing up. Others were frowns of confused disapproval as they saw what appeared to be an effeminate boy in drag. Fortunately they refused to believe their own eyes and nobody intervened. Then of course there were the inevitable predatory stares.

For a moment I panicked as I lost sight of both my sister and aunt as they stepped into another shop. As I stood nervously in the main part of the mall, my eyes cast about frantically searching until I sagged with relief as Aunty Bev reappeared.

“Do try and keep up Petal. There’s lots to do yet. Come on.”

I followed her into another shop that I immediately recognised as a boutique. Janice was already studying the merchandise and tugged at my hand eagerly.

“This is nice. We could buy matching shorts look.”

I froze as she proffered the pink velvet tap pants that were little more than cut away hot pants. Fortunately Aunty Bev intervened.

“Sorry girls, red cannot be seen with pink. I think these red ones will be better, however the pink ones will go nicely with your new trainers so we’ll take both, and a pink pair for Janice.”

She produced a similar pair of red, stretchy, velvet tap pants and motioned me to the changing rooms. I swallowed nervously yet again. These shorts were just so skimpy!

In the changing room the shorts fitted but they were tight. The smooth velvet produce an undesired ‘condition’ and Aunty Bev frowned.”

“Oh dear. This is no good. They’re a nice fit but you can’t wear them while you’re like that. We’ll have to get you something else. Wait here and try and do something about that! I’ll go and get some other stuff.”

I frowned and tried to adjust my naughty bits but they refused to behave. Janice stared at me and smiled.

“You’ve got a thingy. It’s gone stiff hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I confessed, unsure whether to be proud or ashamed.

“I know what it’s for!” She declared proudly.

“Yeah. So do I. We did it in sex education lessons this year.”

Then I realised Janice was two years younger than me and she hadn’t had sex education lessons yet.

“Hey! How did you know? You haven’t had those lessons yet!”

“I saw your book. You left it in the bathroom a few weeks ago,”

“Yeah. Well you shouldn’t be so nosey.”

“I couldn’t help it. I went to wee and there it was. You’d left it there. Does it really shoot stuff out?”

“No. Well, not yet anyway. I’m still too young.”

“So why does it get stiff then?”

“It’s always been doing that since I was small. All boys get them.”

“Do sissies?”

“I suppose so; you’d better ask Aunty Bev. She’s the one who wants me to be a sissy.”

“But you like it. Aunty Bev told me this morning.”

“Why did she do that?” I demanded.

“She said it’s best that I know. If there are no family secrets there are no nasty surprises. She told me all about it and explained that you liked wearing girls stuff. This was so that I wouldn’t be afraid or shocked if I saw you unexpectedly.”

“Yeah, well I suppose she’s right. I don’t want to frighten you. Does this frighten you?”

“What? Your stiffy?”

“No, the girls clothes.”

“Nah. I think it’s nice. Now I’ve got a big sister. I’ve always wanted a big sister. I hate it when you used to go out and leave me alone. Now you’ll be able to play with my dolls now.”

“I think I’ve grown out of playing with dolls, but I’ll be your big sis. That’ll be keen.”

“Big sis. Big sissy. Is that were the word comes from?”

“Possibly, I don’t really know. Hey-up! Here comes Aunty Bev.”

Our aunty reappeared with a flared rah-rah frock and held it out. My eyes widened with delight for it was exactly what I had always dreamed of; my own red satin frock.

“Ooooh! That’s delicious. Can I try it on?”

“Of course, but first you’ll have to put the slip on.

She held out a red slip and I raised my arms as she slipped it over my shoulders. The sheer delight of the silky smooth material slithering down my bra and panties only cause my stiffy to harden. I squirmed uncomfortably as my stiffy tried to grow in the tight confines of my red velvet tap pants. Aunty Bev smiled and declared.

“You’d better keep your tap pants on underneath. They’ll stop that ‘condition’ from showing. Come on raise your arms again.”
I did as she commanded and she slipped the frock over my shoulders. Again the silky material slithered down my under slip and I squirmed. Aunty Bev smiled again as she recognised my sensuous reaction.

"Turn around. I have to button you up."

I turned around and sighed as the bodice of the frock was buttoned up behind and I felt the sensuous embrace. As she fastened the last button at the nape of my neck, Aunty Janice gave me another kiss on the neck.

“There! How does that feel?”

“Mmmm. Just scrummy!” I squeaked as I ran the palms of my hands over the silky slippery bodice of the frock.

“Good. That’s it for today then. I’ve also bought you a couple of chemises and blouses to go with your tap pants. Come on, that’s enough for today, I’ve spent a fortune on you young lady.”

I was reluctant to leave the mall and stopped to admire myself in every shop window under the pretence of seeing something I liked. Aunty Bev recognised my ploy but she indulged me as she waited. As to any untoward looks, I couldn’t have cared less. I was the happiest sissy in the world.

These are the first three chapters. Don’t worry readers, Michelle will soon learn what it means to be a properly controlled sissy, however we must allow her the pleasures of a sissy childhood.
Cheers for now. Beverly Taff.