It was a nice autumn afternoon on the campus, about 60 degrees with a slight breeze from the South. It was 2 PM Friday prior to a 3 day weekend and I had just finished my last class for the week, Computer Engineering 344. I had finished my lab report for next Wednesday and my other homework on the laptop between classes earlier in the day. I found my self in the rare situation of having some time to kill.

As I was walking back towards my dorm, I noticed that the gym was teeming with activity. I could hear the dull "thud" of racquet balls striking the walls of the north courts. I also noticed the repeated shriek of a coach's whistle escaping from an open window on the lower level. I wondered who was practicing this time of day before the long weekend? I turned and entered the door on the north side of the building and scaled the stairs to the upper track/observation platform.

The newly formed women's wrestling team was in the midst of a grueling workout, in the middle of the gym floor below. I remembered reading about this new venture in the school paper. In order to comply with the letter of the Title 9 laws, the school had offered to start a women's wrestling program comparable to the men's program. They hopped that nobody would take them up on it and they could drop the program. Much to their chagrin, a large number of the female student population tried out for the team and stuck with it. The school was then forced to keep the program. Not wanting to do anything half way, they hired a top notch women's wrestling coach from the former East Germany. She had brought two of her most promising heavy-weight wrestlers from Europe with her. The team was expected to be one of the best in the country when competition commenced.

The women appeared to be working out very hard. They were practicing takedown and escape drills, and other moves. Their coach encouraged them to lift weights between drills. I am a serious weight lifter and I was very impressed by the strength of some of these women! Many of them were farmer's daughters and they spent a good deal of the summer bailing hay and rebuilding tractor engines no doubt. "I Would not want to tangle with most of them," I thought to myself.

Still, I was fascinated that such athletic and muscular women could also be quite attractive, even with their hair tied back in pony tails, sweating profusely and brutally throwing each other around on the wrestling mat. They seemed to be completely unaware of my presence on the upper track as they were so involved in their practice. Then I remembered that one of the guys on my floor had mentioned something about how when the gym was remodeled recently. Several access holes that water pipes had been previously routed through had been inadvertently left open between the maintenance areas and the women's locker room. They speculated that the view from there might be very interesting. Perhaps if I could find this area, I could verify this.

Still apparently unnoticed by the team, I departed the upper track area and headed down to the basement. I was somewhat familiar with the building layout but it would probably take me a while to find the area I was looking for. The basement hallway had minimal but adequate lighting. It was no surprise to find the door to the main maintenance area locked. However, this was no problem for someone as resourceful as I. I withdrew my wallet and took out my student ID card which was coated with a very stiff plastic. I slipped the card through the crack between the doors and released the lock mechanism. I stepped inside and pulled the door shut quietly behind me.

The room was dimly lit by the exit sign. I picked up a flashlight from the top of a nearby workbench and proceeded to look around. The room was home to a variety of small tools, mops, chemical cleaners, and so forth. Bingo! What luck! I found a set of blueprints showing the layout of the buildings old and new plumbing and wiring. I surmised that the water and steam to the women's locker room split off this room. It passed through an overhead crawl space to a small maintenance closet adjacent to both the men's and women's locker rooms. This was what I was searching for. I made several quick mental notes of the details on the drawings and proceeded on.

I found the ladder leading up to the crawl space in a corner of the maintenance room. I quietly climbed up, removed the cover grate, and proceeded towards my destination with my back pack in tow. All things considered, the crawl space was unusually clean, I thought. Upon reaching the maintenance closet, I quietly removed the snap on grate at that end and went inside. A quick survey of the surroundings revealed nothing out of the ordinary, a few large mop buckets and related cleaning supplies.

I extinguished the flashlight and waited a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the low light level. I observed several streams of light issuing from three holes about 3 feet up the wall on the women's locker room side of the closet. They were partially covered with duct tape. Kneeling down, I removed the duct tape and peered through each of them. The view was far less than I had hoped for. Only a small section of the shower and locker areas were visible from here. Somewhat disappointed, I was just thinking about leaving when I noticed a small amount of light coming from the top of the door connected to the locker room. I turned over one of the large mop buckets and used it as a make shift step stool. The light over the door was coming from what appeared to be a cold air return vent. I removed the filter covering from the vent and was rewarded with a significantly better view of the room. The only drawback was that the vent was just a bit high for my me and I needed to stand on tip toes to see very well.

The first few members of the wrestling team were just returning from practice. I kept very still and watched them begin to undress and head for the showers. In a few minutes, most of the team had returned to the locker room. It was difficult to believe that such competitive and obviously rugged women could also be so very feminine in both appearance and manner. The view from my vantage point was quite spectacular but I had to stop watching for a few seconds at a time to give my calf muscles a chance to rest. I was unaccustomed to standing on my tip toes for extended periods of time.

After a few minutes, some of the team finished showering and returned to the dressing area. I enjoyed watching some of them toss their long hair about as they dried it with the blow dryers. Their bodies were an exquisite combination of strength and beauty. More of the team returned to the dressing area and began getting ready. I was not surprised but disappointed that they did not wear more feminine clothing. Mostly jeans and a few denim skirts -- the usual college coed fare. However, some of the ladies did wear some more interesting lingerie -- lacy pink bras, nylon or satin panties or lacy camisoles.

I was particularly intrigued by one of the women, her teammates referred to her as Deb. Her confident air and mannerisms suggested that she might be the team captain. I estimated that she wrestled somewhere around 132. She had shoulder length brown hair and long slender legs and a well-proportioned body in general. I turned on my makeshift step stool and strained to get a better view of her. As I did so, the bottom of the mop bucket yielded slightly with a loud "BANG." I froze immediately. Three of the women closest to the closet turned and said, "What was that?" My pulse rate instantly doubled. Deb replied, "Oh, don't worry, the coach said, 'they would be testing the steam heating system off and on today and it always makes the pipes rattle around a bit.'" I let out a large but silent sigh of relief. Deb then nodded to two of the women who were completely dressed at this time and they left the locker room at once. I guessed they were done for the day.

I continued watching the women getting dressed. Most of them had very curvaceous and well- sculpted bodies. I watched as some of the women pulled their nylons up over their long smooth shapely legs. Oh they looked really great! One of the women, I think I heard them call her Amy, then slithered into her tight Chic jeans and zipped them up. I thought, what a waste to cover up such nice legs with a pair of jeans. I guess I'm more of a leg man than a derriere man. I noticed another gal squirming into a tight fitting pink sweater. It was quite an ordeal for her as she was quite well endowed. She then pulled on a short black miniskirt that really showed off her long legs. This was much more to my liking.

I then noticed one of the two German ladies, Hilda, getting dressed. For a woman of her stature, she is kinda cute. She stands about 6 - 1 and probably weighed around 190. Over her plain white cotton underwear, Hilda donned a simple pair of denim coveralls and a simple white blouse. She looked as if she could easily start at outside linebacker for the (men's) Football team. The Football team needed all the help they could get. Hilda's older sister, Olga, was in my tech writing class last semester and she is even more formidable looking but also strangely appealing in her brutish sort of way.

I decided that this was enough entertainment for one day. I felt very smug about being able to ogle practically the entire women's wrestling team without them knowing about it. I stepped down from my makeshift viewing blind. As I did, my elbow brushed a soda bottle that had been precariously perched on the edge of one the middle shelves sending it to the floor with an ear shattering "CRASH." Why would anyone put a breakable bottle in such a vulnerable position!? I thought it prudent to get out of there and FAST! I switched on my flashlight and turned toward the crawl space. I found the cover had been surreptitiously replaced and locked in position with numerous tie wires, much to my dismay. OOPS!

A few seconds later, the doors between the closet and the women's locker room were flung open and I was temporarily blinded by the bright fluorescent light from the room. I was cheerfully greeted by, "What the hell do you think you're doing in there?" "Uh...." Before I could say anything, Hilda, Olga and two other women grabbed me and yanked me out into the locker room. I am quite strong and I might have escaped from one of them, albeit with considerable effort. However, I was hopelessly outnumbered and these women were very strong. I continued to struggle but Olga had her arm around my neck and had my left arm pinned behind my back. She twisted my wrist in such a way that any effort I made to move resulted in extreme pain.

All the women in the locker room now glared angrily at me. The team Captain, Deb, spoke up, "Well girls, it looks like our little trap worked after all." She sauntered over to me and said, "I asked you a question mister! What are you doing here?" "Oh, uh nothing much.", I replied. "You were watching us, weren't you!?" Olga increased the pressure on my wrist slightly. "OK, I was watching you undress, shower and dress.", I responded. Deb stared directly into my eyes and remarked, "Good, at least now you're telling the truth. What's your name?" I replied meekly, "John."

Deb thought for a moment, sighed and continued, "You know JOAN, we don't appreciate men watching us walking around here naked without our permission. You are so totally insensitive to women's feelings. We get so tired of you men leering at us, checking us out and discussing our physical attributes with your buddies. I think it's just a lot of macho BS. So why do you do it?" Not wanting to get into further trouble, I simply responded, "I guess it is sort of fun." The expression on her face told me that she wasn't totally satisfied with my reply.

Before Deb or I could say anything else, one of the other women in the group chimed in, "You know, I am taking a minor in Psychology and we were talking about this in my behavioral disorders class last week. There is a new theory about the root cause of voyeurism in men." Deb responded, "Why don't you enlighten us Susan."

Susan then stepped forward to the area where I was being held and said, "You see, we now believe that the reason men feel the need to ogle women is due to their ignorance about the feminine side of their own personalities. However, watching women does not help them because they can't learn to understand themselves by observing us. Further, their own macho conditioning discourages them from trying to learn anything about this feminine part of their personalities or, for that matter, even admit that it exists." Several of the women in the group responded, "Oh poor babies!" Then someone inquired mockingly, "Isn't there something we can do to help them?"

Deb then got a most sinister looking smile on her face and replied, "Yes, I believe there is."

I began to feel some trepidation at this turn of events. Why didn't they simply turn me in to the University officials for disciplinary action and be done with it. What was all this nonsense about my "feminine side", and why did she keep calling me Joan? I had a very uneasy feeling that I would find out all too soon.

Deb addressed me once more, "Now Joan, you have enjoyed watching us get undressed, walk around naked, shower, and get dressed again." I nodded my head in acknowledgment. "I think it is only fair to us that we should get to enjoy watching you perform similar activities. If you cooperate with us, there will be no need to turn you in to the campus authorities." I felt some small amount of relief at this proposal. I was a bit nervous about getting undressed in front of so many attractive women. In light of the situation, I didn't have much choice.

Olga and Hilda escorted me over to the women's shower and forced me to sit in one of the chairs outside. This is where I had just enjoyed watching the women drying their hair moments ago. Deb then instructed me, "OK Joan, STRIP!" My face flushed a bit as I removed my clothes and neatly folded and set them on an adjacent chair. I covered my nakedness as best I could. One of the other women then handed me a peculiar looking white bottle from which the label had been removed and instructed, "Soap up thoroughly with this liquid soap and let it sit for a couple of minutes then wash it off and make SURE you keep it off your face and head." This seemed like an odd set of instructions but I felt it would go easier for me if I complied. Besides, while I was in the shower, only Olga and Hilda could see all of me.

I took my time and did exactly as I was instructed. My mind raced wildly. I couldn't help wondering what these women were up to. The liquid soap had a strange smell to if and it produced a funny tingling sensation on my skin. I grabbed a tube of shampoo that was left in the shower and washed my hair while I was at it. After I completed my shower, I stood inside the shower hiding my nakedness. It had also become quite cool in the locker room as someone had opened several outside windows on the north side of the building.

Noticing that I was reluctant to come out of the shower, Deb gestured to Olga and she handed me a very large towel. As I was drying my self off, I noticed a conspicuous lack of hair on my body. Apparently they had me shower with hair remover! That was not very nice I thought but I guess they were entitled to some fun at my expense. Oh well, now I was all ready to get into body building if I wanted to. Once I was dry, I started to wrap the towel around my waist. "STOP!" shouted Deb. "This is the WOMEN'S locker room and while you are here you will do things our way." Olga then took the towel from around my waist and tucked it under my armpits and knotted it in front of my chest. "Das better," she remarked in her heavy German accent. I felt a little strange as I had never worn a towel in this way before. No longer naked, I stepped out of the shower. Deb looked at me and inquired, "Are you cold?" I nodded yes. "OK then, you may get dressed now...Joan." I turned to the chair where I had left my clothes. They were gone!

I had to say something. "Uh...Deb, what happened to my clothes?" A few of the women giggled and then became silent following a stern look from Deb. "Well Joan, you'll have to keep track of your own clothes. We can't keep track of them for you!" She looked around the locker room and inquired, "does anyone know where Joan's clothes are?" Several responses of "no" were voiced along with more giggles than before. This does not bode well, I thought to myself.

Deb continued, "Joan, we aren't supposed to have any men running around in our locker room much less naked ones. Although you might deserve it, we can't really send you out of here naked either. We'll just see if we can pull together a few things for you to wear. Hey everyone, we need to find something for Joan to wear."

Deb and some of the others started walking around and looking at me with a very critical eye. I heard several numbers being bandied about which I did not understand; "eighteen... no maybe sixteen yeah that's it and 36....no 38B.... maybe 11D or 12D." Then, several of the women started routing around in their lockers. After a few seconds, one of them declared, "I've got something." She turned around holding up a skimpy pair of pink French cut nylon panties with white lace trim. "Oh those are really cute Kim," remarked one of the others. I felt my heart sink as I began to suspect what the women had in mind for me. Deb reassured me, "Oh now don't worry Joan, nobody will see your panties once you have the rest of your clothes on." I breathed a sigh of relief and put on the panties that they handed to me. The smooth nylon fabric of the delicate panties felt surprisingly good as I slid them up over my smooth legs and secured them around my waist.

Deb then inquired, "OK, who has some jeans that Joan can wear?" This certainly sounds better I thought. Some of the women pretended to search through their gym bags and lockers while several others noted that their jeans were size 10, 8, 12 etc. much too small for me. Deb then turned to Olga and Hilda, but both of them shook their heads, no. "Oh I'm so sorry Joan, but we don't seem to have any PANTS for you to wear." Then one of the other women, I think her name was Cindi, smiled mischievously and said, "You know, we just finished the special projects for our advanced sewing class and some of us just happen to have them with us." Almost on queue, about twelve of the women retrieved large opaque garment bags from their lockers. The nearest one was handed to Deb for her inspection. Deb curiously unzipped the bag withdrew a fancy rose party dress. It was made from a slinky metallic looking material. It had a full skirt with a fairly short hi/low hem line. It had a shirred bodice with a slightly revealing neckline. The back was square and slightly low with a zip closure and a single button wrap around closure at the neck.

My face turned beet red as I exclaimed, "I can't wear that... that's a dress!" Deb looked at me, smiled gleefully and said, "Oh my sweet Joan, you CAN wear it .... and you WILL wear it! But first there are some preliminaries that we must attend to. You see when we learned of the little peep show some of you men set up outside our locker room, we were very angry at first. However, we thought simply turning one of you in to the campus authorities was far too unimaginative. We debated for almost two weeks before we finally arrived at a unique way to punish and humiliate one of you ourselves. Several of our team members, who are very skilled seamstresses, took it upon themselves to produce some pretty clothes that would fit our probable subjects. And you, my dear Joan, are the first to stumble into our little trap." The entire room broke out in laughter, cheers and applause. Both Olga and Hilda grabbed me as before. This illegal wrestling hold caused me sufficient pain when I struggled to assure my submission.

I was completely surrounded by the entire team. One at a time, they brought out various articles of dainty lingerie and held them up for my review. The woman in the black mini handed a lacy pink bra, that apparently matched the panties, to Hilda to put on me. Hilda slid the shiny satin straps over my arms and up onto my shoulders. I felt the elastic material of the bra tightly encircling my chest. I felt two little eyelets "snap" into place as she fastened it behind me. I felt a very strange tingling sensation as one of the other ladies pulled adjusted the satin and lace bra cups down over my pectorals.

Another woman handed a small plastic envelope to Deb. She opened it and displayed a shimmering pair of silky pantyhose, suntan shade. Cindi smiled and remarked, "Your just lucky that we couldn't find the garters and stockings we were looking for or that's what you'd be wearing now." "Now if you struggle and put a run in these, we will be VERY unhappy," added Deb. Olga increased the pressure applied to my arm and wrist so I got the message. Deb then proceeded to roll up the legs of the pantyhose one at a time and slid them slowly up my now hairless legs. The sheer nylon material felt strangely good at she pulled it up. The nylons clung tenaciously to the contours of my legs and gently squeezed my body with even the slightest movement. I noticed how the nylons sparkled as they reflected some of the sunlight streaming in from the outside windows on the west end of the room.

At Hilda's prompting, I stood up and one of the women in the back said, "Hey, Joan doesn't have any cleavage." "That just WON'T do," Deb replied. Cindi then held up two knee high nylon stockings each of which had been filled with just a bit less than a cup of bird seed and tied closed at the end. She then placed these inside the bra cups and formed them to a supple rounded shape. This additional weight on the front of my chest felt most strange. Olga then quickly shook my shoulders from side to side a few times causing the makeshift "falsies" to jiggle back and forth. The room exploded with laughter and I blushed an even deeper shade of crimson than before. "How do you like those boobs?" inquired Deb. "Well don't answer - there's more!!"

Susan then stepped forward and held up a short pink nylon full slip. It had delicate white lace trim along the top, a white lace insert at the bust and a broad band of white lace on the hem. The bodice was shaped to fit closely over the cups of the bra. Deb and some of the others voiced their eager approval. Deb took the slip and dangled it in front of my body teasingly. Hilda then forced both my arms upward while Deb maneuvered the bottom of the slip over my outstretched arms and down over my head. Olga twisted the slip into position and pulled it down past the now full bra cups and released it. The remainder of the wispy material slid down over my torso with the hem falling just below mid thigh length. Olga then spun me around quickly in a square dance like maneuver that caused the full skirt of the garment to swirl out broadly. The silky material then fell back down into its original position - the lace hem tickling my smooth nylon covered thighs. The crowd responded, "Oooh.....pretty!"

I looked over my body to see what the women had done to me. My body was draped with the sleek and sexy pink nylon slip. Two voluptuous round protrusions sprang from where my masculine pecs had been just moments ago. Projecting from the lacy bottom of the slip were two muscular but very attractive legs sheathed in lustrous nylon pantyhose. I felt totally humiliated, but at the same time, strangely excited.

It was then that I noticed, much to my dismay, I was experiencing an all to familiar physical reaction. This was caused by being surrounded by beautiful women and to the most unusual stimulus of the exotic clothing. I tried desperately to mentally subdue the response that was occurring just below my waist by thinking about baseball, alas to no avail. Observing the uneven profile of the front of my slip, Deb commented, "Now Joan we can't allow any of that -- it's just not LADY like." This time the women were practically rolling on the floor in hysterical laughter. Hilda quickly walked over to her locker and withdrew a white lace spandex light control brief (girdle) and threw it to me. Deb instructed me to step into the leg holes while Olga lifted the skirt portion of the slip. Deb tugged upward and adjusted the girdle around my waist. When she was finished, she snapped the elastic material around the waist playfully and pulled the slip back down. I noted that the girdle was fitted with subtle padding designed to give me a more curvaceous derriere and hips. "That's better -- so much more feminine," she remarked. Even though it concealed my masculine reaction, the taught feel of the spandex material made the stimulation even more intense. This fact made me feel even more uneasy.

I gathered my courage somewhat and suggested, "OK, you girls have made your point. What I did was wrong and I am dreadfully sorry. But I think you have humiliated me enough." Deb stared directly at me once more and said, "My sweet darling Joan, Your humiliation has barely even BEGUN. We GIRLS have many more things in store for you. WE, NOT YOU, will decide when you are finished here. I hope that's clear enough for you!" Then she smiled the most sinister smile that I had ever seen on any human being. GULP!

Deb, Hilda and Olga then escorted me into the coach's office and instructed me to sit down in the large chair behind the desk. Deb indicated that I should smooth out the skirt behind me prior to sitting down and I did so. I noticed that the skirt hiked up a bit just as I sat down, so I tugged it down to cover more of my thighs. Deb remarked, "VERY GOOD Joan! Your learning fast." Then while Olga held me down, Hilda firmly lashed my arms and chest to the chair with pink satin straps. I felt totally helpless and vulnerable as I squirmed in futility against my bonds. Deb commanded my attention once again, "This may be a bit difficult for you Joan. We're going to be applying your makeup now. This is delicate work and we felt it was necessary to restrain you to prevent any resistance. Since this is new to you, I'll try to be as careful and gentle as possible. Remember I'm not trying to hurt you, so please, try not to squirm or flinch too much . If you make me goof this up, I will be very upset and you may wind up looking like Tammy Bakker. You don't want either of those things to happen, do you?" I shook my head indicating no. "Good, lets get started."

Deb spread out eight or so different containers in front of me on the coach's desk. Some of them I had seen women use before; lipstick, blush, eye shadow and so forth. Some I didn't recognize. She started by thoroughly wiping my face with a warm washcloth. Then she applied some kind of goop she referred to as foundation. She indicated that a heavy layer of this was necessary to cover my beard shadow. She then applied blush to my cheek bones and blended it with a brush. Next she started working on my eyes. This was very strange and seemed to take a long time. I was uncomfortable with someone poking things around my eyes. Deb again instructed me to hold very still while she applied dark eyeliner to both edges of my eye lids. She then applied mascara to my eyelashes and commented that they were most lovely. After she had finished with the mascara, I felt someone take hold of one of my fingers. I glanced in that direction. Much to my dismay, I discovered that I was being fitted with long red fake fingernails. I recognized the distinctive smell of the Eastman 910 adhesive that they were using to fasten the nails on. My heart sank further as I realized that they would be virtually impossible to remove without completely tearing off my real fingernails. I wondered what more they could possibly do to me. Then I realized that it best not to think about that.

Deb continued working on my makeup like a woman with a mission. She trimmed my eyebrows, thinning, rounding and shaping them substantially. She then accentuated their now high arching curves with an eyebrow pencil. Seemingly satisfied with the results, she began brushing light pink eye shadow over my eyelids and under my eyebrows. She stopped a moment to examine her handiwork and then remarked, "Now you are REALLY going to like this. Purse you lips just a bit for us Joan." After I had done this, she traced the outline of my lips with a bright red lip pencil. She then produced a tube of fiery red glossy lipstick and colored in the remainder of my lips with it. I was then instructed to carefully smack my lips together a few times. One of the other women in the office showed me how I should do this. The lipstick felt cool and soothing on my lips, even better than lip balm. No wonder women enjoyed wearing it. Deb continued making minor adjustments on my makeup until the woman fiddling with my hands said, "Joan's nails should be ready now." I glanced once more at my hands and observed the bright red feminine claws extending from my fingers. Deb then instructed Hilda and Olga to release me from my bonds and escort me out of the office.

After I had returned to the locker room, yet another woman stepped forward from the back and turned a critical glance toward me. "She looks very pretty Deb but something else is missing," she remarked pensively. Deb inquired, "What is it Jill?" "I KNOW! - Joan's hair is far too short and plain for a girl." Deb snapped her fingers and gestured to two other women. They rifled through their gym bags for a few seconds and produced two wigs. One was a light blonde "pageboy" style similar to that worn by the President's wife. The other was a long full cascade of very feminine dark brunette curls. Deb examined the two wigs and pretended to be mulling the choice over in her mind for a few moments before suggesting, "Maybe ........ the BIG HAIR?" The rest of the team voiced their hearty endorsement of her choice. Deb then pulled the long wig over the top of my head and adjusted the position. While she pushed up a few stray strands of my natural hair up under the cap, two other women firmly secured it in place with a few bobby pins. Next one of the women teased the wig a bit with her fingers and quickly arranged it about my face and shoulders.

I felt yet another strange sensation. As I moved my head, even a little, the long hair gently caressed my face, neck, shoulders, and back. From the tactile sensations, I estimated that the end of the wig reached several inches below my shoulder blades.

I had the most odd feeling that this feminine clothing and hair were somehow beginning to sap my masculine strength and will; sort of like Samson in reverse.

Deb then instructed me, "Twirl around once for us Joan." After a stern glare from Olga, I did as she asked. The crowd responded, "She's really pretty Deb. You really have outdone yourself this time. I felt still more humiliated by the way the women now referred to me using a feminine pronoun in addition to the feminine name. Deb addressed me again, "You know what it's time for now Joan?"

I was too frightened and too excited to answer her. "It's time to put on that pretty dress that I showed you earlier!" This was too much. I can't handle this, I thought. I pleaded desperately for her not to subject me to this ultimate indignity, but she was determined. Deb slowly removed the party dress from the hanger and dangled it playfully in front of my body. This produced yet another round of giggles and snickers from the audience. "Now turn around my dear," she commanded. My dual shadows, Hilda and Olga, persuaded me to comply. My heart pounded as I heard the zipper being slowly drawn down. Then, Olga thrust my arms upward once more. I felt the soft caress of the slinky material as Deb pulled the dress over my outstretched arms and over my head being careful not to damage the makeup job she had worked on so diligently . As this was happening, Olga guided my arms through the short sleeves. Deb then pulled the shirred bodice over my torso and adjusted it into its proper position. She then released the full skirt. It felt slinky as it glided down the remainder of my torso and over my slip and nylon clad legs. In front the hem stopped an inch above my knees and about two inches below them in back. Hilda gathered together my bountiful hair in back and lifted it up off my shoulders. Deb fastened the single button at the top near my neck. Then I felt her grasp the zipper tap just above my derriere and slowly pull upward. As I heard the zipper moving upward, I felt this sheath of femininity gently encircling my body. The situation reminded me a carnivorous plant slowly closing around its prey after luring it into the trap with some sweet aroma. When the zipper reached the top of its travel, Hilda released my wig allowing the thick mane to fall back to its normal position around my neck and shoulders.

Some of the women in the back cried out, "We want to see what she looks like!" Deb gestured for some of the women to step back a bit. They formed two lines on either side of the main isle through the locker room. "Walk down to the to the far lockers and back please," Deb instructed. I noticed that Hilda was standing right behind me and Olga was at the other end of the isle, probably to make sure I didn't get lost. As I began walking down to the far lockers, someone shouted, "Hey, what's the rush, take your time!"

I turned and as I was walking back toward Deb, one of the ladies was again eyeing me critically. "Something's STILL not right," she remarked. "What do you mean, Chrissy?" Deb inquired with mock seriousness. Chrissy got that 'light bulb just went off' expression and said, "Joan is really pretty now, but she still walks like a man!" "We'll have to do something about that won't we?" Deb suggested. "Chrissy, you have a pretty nice walk, why don't you give Joan some lessons in how to walk like a girl." Chrissy bounded over to me enthusiastically and proceeded to try to teach me how to sway my hips back and forth in a feminine manner as I walked. She had me try holding one hand on my left hip for emphasis while holding the other hand out. She also had me try placing one foot in front of the other with each step. I honestly tried to do as she instructed, but the results were poor at best. I had hopped that perhaps my cooperation might gain me an earlier release.

Another woman chimed in and said, "I know what Joan's problem is. She needs to wear women's shoes if she is going to walk properly." "Oh what an EXCELLENT suggestion, Julie!" Deb replied. She then gestured to Julie to come over. She opened her gym bag and poured out a collection of fancy high heeled shoes in various sizes. She quickly sized up my feet and extracted a pair of black patent 3 1/2" stiletto heeled pumps from the pile. The shoes had a strong but dainty ankle strap and a black bow accent at the front. Hilda sat me down on one of the benches and Julie slipped the high heels onto my sleek nyloned feet and firmly buckled the ankle strap. Hilda then handed Julie two ultra miniature key-operated padlocks. Julie slipped the lock shank through the hole in each strap that was outside the buckle. She looked up at me and smiled gleefully as she snapped the locks closed. "Now, you won't be taking those off until WE say so." Deb smiled and nodded her approval. I felt that I was being pulled still deeper into their feminine trap.

Hilda gently helped me back to my feet. WOW! I had never felt this tall before. I could see over the top of almost everyone in the room. At Hilda's prompting, I took one step forward and nearly fell on my face. "Woo!" I exclaimed. Deb chimed in, "High heels take a little getting used to Joan, but you'll get the hang of it soon enough. Hilda steadied me by holding my arm and walking me back and forth in the shoes a bit. With a little practice, my steps became less wobbly. I learned to keep my weight forward on the balls of my feet and take shorter steps than I was previously accustomed to.

Chrissy resumed coaching me on my "walk" again, this time with much better results. I developed a subtle but consistent sway of my hips as I walked. With the fear of falling and injuring myself now fading, I once more noticed the unfamiliar but pleasant sensation of the skirt and the slip beneath sliding and bouncing off my smooth nylon covered thighs. I also noticed the very distinctive "clop, clop" sound the high heels made as I walked across the hard concrete floor. Deb complemented me, "VERY GOOD Joan! That's a very ladylike walk you have." "Thank you," I replied. Then I thought, wait a minute, I am a man, these women are starting to mess with my mind. I had to keep my composure and figure some way out of this predicament.

Deb walked over to me, playfully tugged on the hem of my dress and inquired, "Joan...... would you care to see what you look like now?" "Yes," I replied without thinking. Deb took my arm and walked me over to the full length mirror, at the end of one of the rows of lockers. I was so astounded by what I saw that I was sure I was going to pass out. I took a couple of stumbling steps backward before Hilda caught me and kept me from falling. "Bit of a shock eh? "inquired Deb. The word shock didn't even begin to describe it.

As I looked in the mirror, I hardly recognized the person staring back at me. I took a few moments again to examine all that these women had done to me. My head was surrounded by long brown feminine curls framing my exquisitely made up face. The soft curls flowed down past my neck and over my shoulders. This feminine mane cascaded down over the top of the fancy party dress. This slinky dress seemed to define soft feminine curves that I didn't actually possess. The wispy skirt stopped just above the knees of my sleek nylon clad legs. The high stiletto heels imparted a feminine curvature to my calves. The dainty ankle straps and black bows really set off the pretty shoes. Still entranced by what I saw, I raised up my hands to touch my face and hair. As I did so, the skirt hiked up subtly allowing the white lace trim on the hem of my slip to '"peek out" from under the dress. I moved my hands slowly down over the bodice of the dress feeling the feminine curves. I stopped at the hem of the dress and tugged it down to conceal the edge of the slip once more. The person I saw in the mirror looked very female. However, something powerful within me was once more stirring to life in its nylon and lace prison leaving no doubt as to my real sex.

"Maybe you should sit down for a few minutes Joan." Suggested Deb. I sat down in a nearby chair shaking my head in disbelief. I took care to smooth out my skirt as I had been taught earlier. Another woman showed me how to cross my legs when I sat in a short dress. This would definitely not be easy. Olga offered me a glass of water which I graciously accepted. I flipped the long curls away from my face to keep them out of the glass. I had not realized how thirsty I had become. When Olga took the empty glass back from me I noticed it now bore a distinct red lipstick mark around the rim.

After I had regained my composure a bit, someone at the other end of the locker room yelled, "Hey everybody! We found Joan's masculine clothes!" Cindi then displayed a mesh lingerie bag containing my jeans, tee shirt, and underwear. Oh thank goodness, I thought. As I stood up and raced over to collect my proper clothes from Cindi, I noticed that neither Olga or Hilda made any effort to restrain me. I just started to say, "Oh thank you so much!" But then, when I was within a couple of steps of Cindi, she threw the bag over my head to a woman about twenty feet behind me, shrugged her shoulders and exclaimed, "Whoops!" This was very frustrating. I turned and scurried over to the woman now in possession of my clothes only to have her throw them to someone else just before I got there. As I pursued my clothing around the room, I again noticed the distinctive 'clop, clop' noise made by the high heels I was wearing. All the women in the locker room had formed a circle around me and they were snickering and giggling profusely at my predicament. They were playing keep away with me!

My heart sank once more as I realized that they had absolutely no intention of giving my original clothing back to me. I decided that I would no longer play along with this charade, so I stopped pursuing the bag of clothing. The last woman then threw the bag back to Deb. Deb inquired mockingly, "Don't want your old masculine clothes any more Joan? I don't blame you. There so rough and boring and you look so gorgeous in that dress." She then tossed the bag out the window! I ran over to see where it landed. Looking out the window, I saw that the bag had fallen into the back of a passing pickup truck that was speeding away from the west side of the building. My heart sank still deeper. My masculine clothes were REALLY gone now. Dejected, I hung my head and slowly plodded back to where I had been sitting previously next to Olga. Somewhat stunned by the recent developments, I collapsed into the chair. Olga patted me on the back reassuringly. "Is OK Joan."

After a few moments, I looked over and noticed Deb talking with several of her team mates part way across the room. They seemed to be arguing about something, though not too vehemently. This turn of events troubled me so I strained to overhear some of their conversation..... "How come she's wearing Susan's dress? I wanted to see her in my dress. It's just as pretty!" Someone else responded, "You promised me you'd have her wear my dress!! It's just as pretty as the others and I think it would look really exquisite on her." I could not hear Deb's response to them but she seemed to handle herself very diplomatically, nodding and patting the other women on the shoulders. Deb strolled over to where Hilda and I were seated. "Joan, we seem to have a slight problem now." Exasperated, I thought to myself, PROBLEM!? You're not a man dressed up like a prom queen! Tell me about problems!

"You see Joan, my team mates all worked very hard on their special clothing projects for this Home-Ec class. I guess somehow, I promised more than one of them that you would be wearing their particular dress today. They would be SO disappointed if you didn't model at least a few more of their outfits them for them. I told them that you would perform a brief fashion show to placate them. It won't take too long. I negotiated down from the six outfits that they originally asked for, so you only need to model two or three more dresses. Hey, it might even be kind of fun!" Maybe fun for all of you, I thought. I now looked directly at Deb, no longer defiant, my eyes nearly in tears, pleaded for her to end my torment.

Deb's face softened sympathetically. She sat on the other side of me and gestured for Olga and the others to move away. Her tough commanding manner seemed to fade away. She gently flipped my long hair off to one side and put her arm around my shoulder. She now spoke to me in a soft and comforting tone, "Come now Joan, it won't really be so bad will it?" She began gently stroking my long hair and face with one hand. She used her other to massage my nylon covered thigh, occasionally rubbing the soft dress and slip material against it. She whispered softly in my ear, "My sweet, sweet Joan..... so soft and pretty....so soft.... so pretty....." I was becoming mesmerized by her voice and gentile caress as she continued whispering in my ear. My body, which had been tense for what seemed like hours, slowly began to relax. I was melted by her gentle touch. I flipped my hair out of the way on one side and laid my head on her shoulder. She continued her sweet caress and gentle whispering as she cradled my broad shoulders in her arms. My will to resist her, which they had been unable to break completely by physical coercion, was being melted away by Deb's melodious voice and gentle actions.

After we had been sitting awhile, Deb motioned to some of her teammates and about a half dozen or so exited the room. While continuing to stroke my hair she inquired, "Are you feeling better now Joan?" I nodded my head yes. "Oh that's good. Now as soon as your up to it, we need to get you ready for the show." Now resigned to my fate, I sighed, "OK, let's do it."

We walked over to the mirrors by the sink and Deb touched up my makeup and fussed my hair a little. Another woman walked over to us and inquired, "How's she doing?'' "A lot better now," Deb replied. "Joan, this is Denise, she has done some modeling part time during the summers. She will be teaching you some basic modeling techniques. I've some preparations to make elsewhere and need to meet with the rest of the team so I'll catch up with both of you a bit later. Bye." She smiled and swatted me playfully on the derriere as she left. Deb and the rest of the team vacated the locker for an adjacent exercise room. "Hi Denise," I greeted.

"OK Joan, the first thing you need to know about modeling is you want the audience's attention focused more on the clothes and less on the model." "Well, these clothes certainly have my undivided attention," I quipped. Denise smiled sweetly and laughed, "Yeh, I guess we made sure of that, didn't we. But you know what else..... WOW! Deb really did a good job with your makeup. Normally, clothing models would not want that much attention directed to their faces. But your makeup is so pretty, I don't want to change it. Anyway, on the runway you will need to exaggerate all your movements to show off and complement your clothing. That sexy dress you have on is perfect for me to teach you the basic techniques. You want lots more hip movement than your used to thus far and you will need to cross one foot over in front of the other even more with each step."

Denise took a few dozen steps back and forth over to the showers and back to show me how it was done. Then she had me try walking. I found this even more difficult as I was very new to high heels as it was. "More hips!" she yelled. I nearly stumbled several times as I tried to follow her instructions. "OK, let's back up a bit," she suggested. She then had me stand in one spot and move my hips rhythmically side to side while bending and straightening alternate knees. After doing this for a few minutes she had me try walking again, this time more slowly with my hand on one hip for feedback. After two or three minutes, this movement started to feel a little more natural. I also noticed that this exaggerated style of walking made my falsies bounce a lot more. Denise remarked, "Very good Joan, your catching on." She continued, "Now when you model a dress with a fuller skirt, like this one, you may occasionally want to grasp the hem of the skirt between your thumb and forefinger. Pull it out to the side a just a bit, and swing it slightly as you walk." I followed her instructions. This part didn't seem nearly as difficult as the walking was.

"OK good. One more style point. When you get to the end of the runway, you want to pause briefly, then hold your head still and turn your body back the direction you came from just before turning your head." Denise demonstrated a few times then had me try. It felt a bit awkward, but not excessively difficult. Next, she had me put the whole routine together. It was a bit jerky at first, bit eventually the movements started to become more fluid. Denise had me practice for about five more minutes, then had me sit down. It felt good to get my weight off the heels for a while. Denise handed me a small glass of water which I promptly finished off. "You learn very fast Joan, but I think we taught you enough basic moves....at least for this session. Do have any questions are anything else you want to review?" "No, I think I'm OK with what you showed me." What did she mean THIS SESSION? I wondered. "Is there anything else you need before the show?" she inquired. "Yes, I think I need a bathroom break."

"OK, you can use one of the stalls over there." She said, pointing to the rest room area of the locker room. I entered one of the stalls and pulled the door closed behind me. I paused for a moment. Now this is going to be interesting, I thought. I moved the myriad of unfamiliar clothing out of my way. I completed the task at hand and pulled the various articles of clothing back into place. I now had a little better appreciation of why women need more time to use the bathroom. I strolled over to the sink, washed my hands, looked in the mirror and pushed a few stray curls back into place with my fingers. Now why did I do that, I thought to my self. "I'm ready now."

Denise escorted me to the door of the exercise room. There was now a short series of wooden steps going up to the edge of some kind of makeshift platform, about 30 inches high, leading into the room at one door. There was a heavy black curtain at the top of the platform. Denise scaled the steps, stuck her head through the curtain and said, "She's ready now." She came back down and said, "Try not to be nervous, just remember what we went over, move with the music and don't smile to much. Knock 'em dead Joan."

In the other room, someone switched on a boom box with some British new wave instrumental Techno-Rock music with a steady beat. I heard Deb's voice amplified by the boom box, "Presenting the 1994 Home-Ec 356 fall fashion show preview. Today's show features our newest model, Joan Bozemann." Humm....They know my last name. I took a few deep breaths and headed up the steps. I stepped through the curtain and onto the runway. All of the women's wrestling team, except Denise, was seated in the room on folding chairs. Deb was seated next to the boom box with a microphone. The runway was formed from a series of wide dressing benches taken from the locker and exercise room, set end to end. It was wide and sufficiently sturdy that I was not afraid of falling off. I was very impressed with these women's' resourcefulness. They had affixed a few simple clamp-on flood lights at a few locations along the runway. The light from these was reflected dramatically by my lustrous nylons and slinky dress.

With just a bit of hesitation, I started my walk down the runway. Then Deb started her spiel, "Our first selection today is a Susan Jones creation. This evening dress of shimmering lame that is just perfect for that wild evening out with the girls, or in Joan's case, that wild afternoon in with the girls." Even I couldn't help but snicker at that one. I paused periodically along the runway and turned slightly, as Denise had taught me, holding my right hand on my right hip. My exaggerated hip movements caused both my hair and my dress to swing as I walked. My high heels seemed to make a louder "clopping" noise on the wooden runway than they did on the concrete floor. When I reached the end of the runway, I pirouetted once and paused for a few seconds. Deb interjected a few more light comments about the outfit. I then performed my body first - head second turn and sashayed back towards the locker room. Just as I turned, I was startled by the flash from a camera. I also noticed that one of the women pointing a video camera in my direction. OH GREAT! Now they have me in a dress and on film too! I just sighed at this turn of events and kept on going and re-entered the locker room.

As I clopped down the wooden stairs, I noticed that Denise had been joined by the two women I had seen arguing with Deb earlier. Their names were Alice and Becky. They had two more dresses ready for me to model. Denise said, "Since your our only model today, we have to turn you around fast. We can't keep the audience waiting." I walked over to her, turned around and held my hair out of the path of the zipper. As Denise was pulling the first dress off past my waist, Becky began pulling her creation down over my head. "Watch out for my makeup," I joked. The second dress was a pullover style. I was a wrap style dress made of slinky light blue fabric. It had long straight sleeves, a deep V wrapped neckline that barely covered the top of my bra and a very full wrap skirt, just above mid calf length. Becky tugged on the skirt and adjusted the wrap front a bit because the little pink bow on the front of my slip was showing. When she was satisfied with this, she put a wide black leather belt around my waist and fastened the large brass buckle in front. Denise then had me sit for a second while she fussed with my hair. While I was seated, the slinky material of the wrap skirt slowly slid to one side revealing the lace hem of my slip and a significant amount of leg. I kept pulling the skirt back over my leg, but it kept sliding off. I had to admit that I sort of enjoyed this unfamiliar sensation. When Denise was finished, she said, "You're doing great Joan, but slow down your walk down just a little. Give everyone a chance to look at you. We have all been looking forward to this fashion show for a long time now and we want to enjoy it."

I repeated my runway routine attired in the second dress. The skirt on this one seemed to respond more dramatically swishing to the movement of my hips. Deb made some reference to this being "the perfect day to evening dress." Someone in the crowd commented, "Oh, FOXY LADY! "I made my third runway appearance in Alice's dress. It was a straight, green, ankle length, evening gown with a thigh high side slit. It flashed a great deal of my right leg with my every step and seemed to be a real big hit with the team. One of them yelled out, "YEAH! WOOO! Show us more leg Joan!" I felt so embarrassed.

When I returned to the locker room once more, Hilda was there with Denise. As Denise was unzipping me, Hilda held up a blue floral cotton print dress which she had made. It had a low scoop neckline edged with delicate white lace. The empire waist bodice was detailed with lots of lace and satin ribbons. A little string looped back and forth through the lace from the bottom of the bodice, to the top and was tied in a delicate little bow at the neckline. The long sleeves were white and sheer. The skirt was mid calf length and extremely full. It had a wide flounce at the bottom which was hemmed with the white lace. The dress zipped in back and had a wide back tie sash to accentuate the bust line. Hilda inquired, "You like Zis dress?" Not being one to lie I stated, "It's very pretty Hilda... very...er....Bavarian." Hilda shrugged her shoulders and blushed with pride. "Thank you." Hilda had me turn around and slipped the dress over my head. I once more held my hair out of the path of the zipper as she pulled it up and tied the sash in a generous bow in back. She was far more gentle with me than she had been earlier that day. Hilda asked me to "twirl" for her once and I complied. "Wery Nice," she remarked. The cotton material was much more comfortable than the slinkier materials I had worn earlier. The dress, however, felt extremely feminine.

I then made the final trip down the runway in Hilda's number. It seemed to be a quite hit with the ladies and drew a good deal of applause along with several "OOhh's and AAhh's. It also got a few more photographs than the others. After I made the trip down and back, Deb had me come out on stage with Denise and the afternoon's featured clothing designers. We all soaked up their applause for a short while then retreated to the locker room. I heard some of the women in the workout room beginning to dismantle their makeshift runway. I sat down next to Hilda again and sighed. This had been a long and most unusual day.

Deb came in and sat down next to us. "Well Joan, this has been an interesting afternoon for us. I'll bet it has been for you too." I nodded in weary acknowledgment. "We have our first wrestling meet tomorrow night so unfortunately we all have to get going. I suppose you probably had some other plans for today also, so were going to release you, for now." I sighed with relief, gave her a big hug and simply replied, "Thank you." She continued, "There are a few other things, accessories we call them, that you'll need. She pulled out a pair of long dangling rhinestone earrings and clipped them to my ear lobes. She then produced a long fake pearl necklace. I held my hair up off my neck and she put it around my neck and fastened the clasp in back. A blue ribbon, matching the color of my dress, was tied into part of my hair in back. She next produced a small bottle and quickly sprayed my neck, chest and wrists with it. The pleasant floral aroma of perfume permeated my nostrils. I turned to look at her and she was grinning mischievously. Finally, she set a thin black leather strap over my right shoulder. The other end was connected to a large black purse. It seemed awfully bulky, I thought. "This purse contains your wallet, student ID, room key, and a few other things you will need." She also handed me my backpack containing my laptop and books.

The realization of what I had to do next sent a wave of terror through my mind. "Uh Deb, I can't go out on the street like this! What will I do when I run into someone I know? They'll laugh at me!" Deb smiled at me reassuringly. "Well Joan, first we don't have anything else for you to wear, unless you'd prefer one of the other dresses. I personally think you look really CUTE in that one. And second, I don't think you need to worry about anyone recognizing you as anything other than a very pretty lady." She held her cosmetic mirror up to my face to prove her point. "Just remember how we taught you to walk earlier, and, if possible, avoid speaking to anyone." That part could be difficult I thought.

Deb, her team mates and I all left the locker room together and Deb locked the door behind us. I had gotten far more than I had ever bargained on from this little locker room adventure. As we left the gym, I headed west towards my dorm and the women headed south. As we were parting, before I got out of earshot, the entire team in unison called out in a songful voice, "byyyee Joan, see you soon!" Not too soon I hoped.

It was now just after 4 PM. A gusty late afternoon wind had developed. As I walked back towards my dorm, the strong wind played havoc with my dress and long hair. It blew my hair across my eyes and caused my dress to billow out in front of me and show the bottom of my pink slip. In spite of Deb's assurances, I felt quite self-conscious. I was in far fancier attire than the typical coed usually wore on campus. I passed some of the guys from my dorm on their way over to the food service. I quickly became aware of the numerous second looks I was drawing from them. Fortunately for me, none of them recognized me. If they had, I NEVER would have lived it down. I started to appreciate the uncomfortable feeling that being leered at caused for real women. Some of what Deb had told me earlier began to make sense.

Then I saw my good friend Bill from my advanced micro-circuits class approaching. My mind was racked with fear. He would certainly recognize me I thought. I'd be so ashamed! I hastened my pace significantly. I tried to walk on the opposite side of the sidewalk as far away from him as possible. I didn't look at him. As luck would have it, one of my paper backs for European History slipped out of the side pocket of my backpack and dropped behind me on the side walk just as we passed. Bill quickly picked it up, and said, "Hey Miss, I think you dropped this." I was terrified! I didn't move or even breathe! Bill walked over to me and handed the book back to me. "Thank you," I whispered as softly as I could. I quickly replaced the book in my back pack and clopped off even faster than before. I felt really bad about being so rude to my friend but I didn't have much choice. Besides, "techies" like Bill and I were quite accustomed to being given the cold shoulder by attractive women. He probably wouldn't give it a second thought.

I thought about how extremely lucky I had been in this encounter. First, the wind had blown a few tendrils of the long hair across my face preventing Bill from recognizing me. Second, the history book fell out of my pack instead of the advanced micro-circuits book which was right beside it.

I was getting close to my dorm now and was trying to figure out how I could get in without being recognized. Women were permitted on the dorm floor up to 11 PM so that was no problem. Taking the ever crowded elevator was just right out. It came out by the lounge on my floor. This time of day there would be at least a dozen guys from my floor in there watching television. The fancy getup I was wearing would certainly draw their attention. Then I thought, nobody uses the emergency stairways and my room is located only four doors away from the East one. This appeared to be my best option.

I dashed in the main entrance to the dorm. I quickly walked past the few people loitering in the lobby and headed for the sign marked "EMERGENCY STAIRWAY". I thought this was an especially appropriate name at this time. I flung open the door, stuck my head inside, brushed the hair away from my ear and listened. I didn't hear any one coming down. I started scaling the stairs toward my room on the seventh floor. My high heels made an enormous racket inside the enclosed stairwell. They also prevented me from bounding up the stairs, two or three at a time as was my custom. If the women hadn't locked these crazy shoes to my feet, I could have taken them off. As I approached my floor, I slowed my pace in an attempt to subdue the noise made by the shoes. I knew from personal experience that the sound of women's shoes had a way of drawing lots of attention in a men's dorm and that was attention that I didn't need right now.

On reaching my floor, I fumbled through my purse looking for my room key. What was all this makeup and other stuff doing in here I wondered. I finally found the key in a zip pocket on the inside. I looked through the narrow window on the fire door to see if anyone was in that end of the hall. Seeing no one, I quietly opened the door and carefully peeked around the corner. There were two guys talking in the hallway at the far end about sixty feet away. Neither of them was the head resident. They were a long way from my room so I decided to make a run for it before anyone else showed up. I stepped through the door and walked briskly towards my room, key in hand. My heart felt as if it was in my throat. Thank goodness the hallway was carpeted! The key slipped out of my hand when I reached my door. I recovered it quickly and unlocked the door. As I stepped into the room, I took a final glance down the hall. The two guys at the other end of the hall had seen me but didn't seem to be overly curious. That was lucky I thought, because Phil and I didn't usually have many female visitors; especially ones that looked as sharp as I did now. Once inside, I closed the door, latched the dead bolt and let out a massive sigh of relief.

I thought that I probably wouldn't make a good secret agent. This moving around by stealth was no fun at all, especially when you're a man dressed as a woman. I set down my purse and backpack, walked over to my bed and collapsed. This afternoon had been a very draining experience. After I had been lying there a bit, I started to contemplate what I needed to do next. The first order of business was to get the clothes off, then the makeup, and then somehow those stupid NAILS! I glanced over at our personal post board on the wall nearest me. Fortunately, my room mate, Phil, had a late Electrical Engineering lab today and probably wouldn't be home until after six PM. Poor guy, what a bummer to have a late lab on Friday. Anyway, this gave me ample time to get back to looking normal. I thought I best get started.

As I sat up in bed, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the door. These dorms were originally intended for coed occupancy so all the rooms were equipped with such amenities. I was still awe struck by how feminine the women had made me look. I stood up and walked over to the mirror swaying my hips seductively as I went. I spun around once quickly and watched as the full skirt spun out then fell about my legs. I shook my long hair, lifted it and dropped it again. I ran both hands down my sides feeling the artificially created feminine curves. I struck several very feminine looking poses while watching my self in the mirror. Finally, I put my hands on my knees, leaned forward slightly, arched my back, stuck out my falsies, pursed my bright red lips and remarked, " Oooh, Foxy Lady!"

Then it hit me like a two-by-four right between the eyes. HEY! I'm a MAN! What the hell am I doing!? It was then that I fully realized that Deb and the others had done some major time messing with my mind. I had just done those feminine things completely on my own without anyone there to persuade or coerce me to do them! This fact scared the hell out of me. These clothes seemed to be exerting some almost magical control over me and I had to get out of them NOW! I swung the hair out of the way and reached for the zipper tab at the top of the dress. I pulled it as far down from the top as I could. I then attempted to reach the tab from the bottom side. My arms were somewhat inflexible from weight lifting and I found it extremely difficult to reach the tab from this angle. I thought, this is so dumb! Why do women's clothes have to close in the back? I used the full length mirror so I could better see what I was doing. To make matters worse, Hilda had tied the sash into a special bow that I found very difficult to undo. After I got out of the dress, I proceeded to remove most of the other feminine accouterments, slip, bra, wig, jewelry, etc.

Now, I had to figure out how to get the high heels off without destroying them. I felt it would be a shame to destroy something that I could easily give to someone less fortunate. I was able to get one foot out of the lower part of the shoe, but I couldn't get the blasted ankle strap off because of the little lock they had applied to it. When I was digging for my keys in the purse, I noticed that they had put quite a few extra items in there. Perhaps there was a bobby pin or something I might use to open the locks with. I dumped the purse contents out onto my bed. Numerous items of makeup and other things fell out. There was a bright red envelope on top of the pile marked "Joan." I opened the envelope and pulled out several type-written pages of paper. A small key was tapped to the outside of the papers with the word "shoes" scribbled next to it in a very feminine hand. I took the key and tried it in the locks. Heavenly day! It worked. That was nice of them to leave that key for me, I thought. As I finally removed the stiletto heels, I wondered why some women subjected themselves to such torture on a daily basis. I had worn them for a few hours, over 3/4 mile, and seven flights of stairs and that was enough to last me a lifetime, I thought.

Next, I had to figure out how to remove the makeup and the false finger nails. I went back to the purse and unfolded the sheets of paper. I was impressed. On them were very detailed instructions for applying and removing makeup. The instructions indicated that the contents of the purse included a bottle of makeup remover and a solvent that would remove the false nails. That was most considerate of them, I thought. I didn't understand why they had given me instructions for applying makeup or why they had included additional makeup in my purse, however. I had absolutely no intention of wearing it ever again. I retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom and loaded it up with the makeup remover. It worked just as the instructions had indicated. Then, I soaked my finger tips, one at a time, in the little vial of solvent the women had provided and I was able to remove the nails also.

I retrieved a large grocery sack from the bottom of my closet and proceeded to stuff all the discarded feminine things into it. I recovered my wallet and ID from the purse, then added the remainder of the purse and it's contents to the bag as well. I put the bag back into my closet. I would take it to Good Will tomorrow morning. I thought somebody will get a really nice set of clothes worn only once. Now devoid of all traces of my feminine garb, I slipped into my familiar and comfortable jeans and tee shirt. It felt good to be a man again. Out of curiosity, I glanced at the papers again. Hand-written at the bottom of the last page were the words, "We'll be SEEING you soon Joan, Best wishes, Deb." I don't THINK so, I thought to my self. I collapsed onto the bed once more. In my mind I heard the immortal words of Dr. Martin Luther King, "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God, I'm free at last." After a while, I started to wonder where Phil had gotten to. We frequently went to the food service with some other guys on the floor. However, the clock on the wall told me that the food service had stopped serving dinner 15 minutes ago. No big loss I thought, we'd just have to go out for pizza.

I relaxed, closed my eyes and rested for a moment. In my mind, I heard those words again, "Free at last!" The peace of the moment was suddenly shattered by the ringing telephone.

Who could that be on a Friday night I wondered, somewhat annoyed. I slowly got to my feet and picked up the phone. "Hello, John speaking." I heard a now all too familiar voice on the other end of the line greet me, "Hello, Joan. This is Deb, How are you doing?" "My name is John and I'm tired. This has been a very trying day for me" I replied. "Oh, I'm sure it was Joan," she responded sympathetically. "I just wanted to make sure you got home all right. You know a lady just can't be too careful these days, can she?" The thought of being mistaken for a woman and assaulted had never occurred to me.

"I wouldn't know." I answered. "Oh, by the way, thanks for the makeup remover and the key to the shoes, I really appreciate that." "Your most welcome," she replied pleasantly.

Then I inquired, "Hey, by the way Deb, how did you get my phone number, it's not published?" Deb snickered and replied, "We have ways of finding out things we want to know. Actually, one of my teammates works part time in university records and she took the liberty of downloading your entire personal file to the computer at our house. We now probably know more things about you than you do about yourself."

This disturbed me a bit but I tried not to let it reflect in my voice. I continued by inquiring, "I was going to take your clothes down to Good Will tomorrow morning, but I can have them sent back to your house if you like. Deb replied, "That's sweet Joan but don't be so hasty. I need to explain a few things to you."

She continued, "First those clothes are YOURS now, we gave them to you. You don't have to give them back or give them away." I interrupted, "But what do I need with women's clothes!?" Deb responded, "Well, that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"You see Joan, when we caught you earlier today, our original intention was to thoroughly punish and humiliate you. We intended to dress you up, have a bit of fun with you, then send you out, without the wig, your room keys, ID or anything else. Every one on the street would laugh at you. Your dorm mates would likely laugh and make fun of you mercilessly. You would be forced to tell how all this happened to you and that would be a very strong future deterrent to any prospective "peeping Toms" around our locker room. You would have to tell them, 'This is what you get if you mess with the Women's Wrestling Team.' And to top it all off, we were going to publish the photos of your fashion show in the school paper with your name on them as a feature article."

"So why didn't you do it that way? I guess I deserved it," I inquired. Deb continued, "Well Joan, over the course of the afternoon, the girls and I got to know you a little better, we really started to warm up you. While I was working with you, I could see that you were actually a very warm and sensitive person, not the macho jerk that we had expected to catch in our little trap. We really started to enjoy our time with you today. Judging by the need to put the girdle on you, I suspect that you may have enjoyed it too, at least a little. You began to feel like, well, a sister to us." It still really bothered me that she was always referring to me in feminine terms. Deb continued, " I discussed the situation with the team at some length. We enjoyed your company so much this afternoon, that we decided that we want you to come back and visit us on a regular basis. We all live at the Women's Athletic Sorority just 5 blocks from your dorm so it will be very convenient for you. But there is a catch, no men are allowed in our sorority house, so you'll have to put on your dress, makeup, wig, pantyhose, shoes and all the other frilly things before you come to call on us." I snickered a bit and inquired, "Deb, I sincerely appreciate you taking it easy on me today but what makes you think I'll go along with all this?"

Deb replied, "You see Joan, we didn't JUST take pictures at the fashion show. We took pictures and video of all the preparations that we did to you prior to it as well. I guess you were trying so hard to resist us or escape that you didn't notice. AND, we have the names and addresses of your faculty advisor, your department head, the dean of your college and your parents. It would be a real shame if any of them were to get a peek at your little fashion portfolio." "So your going to blackmail me," I stated flatly. "Oh Joan, blackmail is such an ugly word to hear from the lips of such a pretty lady like you. I prefer the expression, 'some friendly encouragement to comply with our wishes,' much better."

My mind raced frantically as I tried to think of some way out of the situation. I felt trapped, like a wild animal fighting for its life. I protested, "I can't be dressing up as a woman all the time. The guys on my floor and my room mate will see me!" Deb replied, "Don't worry your pretty little head about those things Joan, we have them all figured out and taken care of. We will only summon you when we have a reasonable assurance that you can leave your room with a minimal chance of being seen. Further, Hilda and Olga had a meeting with your room mate, Phil, after his Electrical Engineering lab this evening. They explained to him that you would be participating in some confidential experiments for the psychology department. They told him that he should not discuss anything unusual that he sees you doing under any circumstances. Further, they told him that you may ask him to vacate the room from time to time so you can have the privacy needed for these experiments. They expressed to him just how displeased they would be with him if he didn't cooperate with our demands and that they knew where he lived. I think he got the message loud and clear." Poor Phil, I thought. He was a really good guy and an excellent student but he was your typical 98 pound weakling. I'm sure he found Hilda and Olga to be most intimidating.

Deb continued, "The first half dozen times or so, one of us will come over to your room before hand to teach you how to apply your own makeup. Then we'll help you plan a safe route to enter and leave your room. We will dress somewhat as you will be dressed and we will supply you with additional outfits from time to time for variety. That way the guys on your floor will soon become more accustomed to seeing several different women, and you, go in and out of your room. If anyone asks you about this, you are to tell them that you are tutoring several of the women's wrestling team. We know that you are an excellent student, especially in math, so this will be a real good excuse. Don't even think of giving some "other" explanation for this activity. We have our reputations to protect. Actually, some of my team mates really do need tutoring in math to maintain their eligibility this semester. I've discussed this with the coach, and she even said that she had funding available to pay a tutor if I could locate a really good one. Now I have one. But you will be doing all your tutoring at our house and you will be doing it dressed up like a girl. AND, Joan, I have some other VERY SPECIAL 'rewards' prepared for you for cooperating with us."

Well Joan....I need your decision and I need it NOW!" I sighed deeply. I realized she had me and there was nothing I could do to escape her plan. I hung my head and told her, "OK. You've got me. I'll do as you say." Her voice perked up enthusiastically, "Oh Joan, I just knew you'd see it our way. You're so sweet. It will be so much fun! You won't regret this, I promise you. Then, in a voice so seductive that it sent a shiver through my entire body, Deb added, "I've got big PLANS for you, Joan, and I'll be getting in touch with you real soon. Bye." Then she hung up. I hung up the phone and I collapsed into my desk chair, dejected. The words "free at last," now just a bitter memory.

© 1998 Theresa D & Michelle Johnson