When I came over the next day, I didn't mention them. Neither did he. So he wasn't too anxious to unload them. A good sign for me! It was then that I started to move in with him, bit by bit. I would leave makeup behind, or ask if I could keep a few changes of clothes at his place, in case I had to put on something else when I was hanging out there.

Now his closet had a skirt in it, a couple of cute tops, and a few bras & panties. If I was right about him, then my clothes would be getting worn while I was away. I made sure to arrange my things in such a manner that if they were disturbed, I would be able to tell.

And in fact, when I checked a few days later, I could tell that my bra had at least been out of the drawer. He had either worn it, or had taken it out to feel it. Either way, it was a good sign for me. I had given him plenty of opportunity now, to dress in my clothes. I suspected that he was doing it. Now all I had to do was to catch him.

* * *

I pondered how I could catch Henry in the act. I could just pop in some time, and hope my timing was right. But if I picked the wrong time, then I would be worse off, because I would have lost the element of surprise. I had made sure that I always called hours before I came over. That gave him a sense that he had plenty of time before seeing me.

I had found his spare key on the counter, and made a copy of it before I returned it to the proper place. He never noticed. So I could just barge in any time I wanted to. I just had to be sure.

I decided to use an old psychological technique I had learned. Something to increase my odds: I went out and rented a movie where one of the main themes was cross dressing, and brought it over on a Saturday afternoon. I knew he wouldn't like it, but I made up a cover story.

"My friend Laurie is writing a paper. She's the one who is a theater major. She gave me this film, and I promised her that I'd watch it so I could give an objective opinion on her criticism. Do you mind if we watch it together?"

"No problem" he said. He didn't suspect what the film contained.

We watched the first 45 minutes, without a problem. But when the cross dressing part of the movie kicked in, Henry predictably became violently upset.

"Get that crap off! You know I hate that! Its sick and wrong!"

"I'm sorry honey, I didn't know it was that kind of film. Laurie didn't tell me anything about that! I'm so sorry. I know how much you hate men who go around wearing dresses."

"Damn right!" he said, storming out of the room.

I smiled. I had him now. You see, for the next few hours, while I hung out with him, he would have cross dressing on the mind. And I would be sure to drop a few words here and there about the movie, to make sure it wasn't far from his attention.

Then after I left, he would have been thinking about it for hours. And he had the opportunity, with plenty of my pretty clothes for him to choose from. If he did in fact have the urge to crosiers, that evening would be it.

I drove back to his place after sunset, and waited in my car, where I had a view of his room. He had the shades pulled down, so I couldn't see in. But I could see a silhouette on the shades as he moved around.

Then I saw the light in the bedroom get dimmer, as he pulled the curtains closed. Shades and curtains? He wouldn't do that unless he *really* didn't want anyone to see in. I waited a while longer, and noticed a silhouette against the shade in the living room now. When he turned to the side, I noticed something. Breasts. Jutting out from the shape of the body was the distinct shape of female breasts. Now was the time to make my move.

I went to the stairway, up to the third floor where he lived. I went to his room, put the key in the door, and quietly unlocked it. I quietly turned the knob, and swung the door open. Then I knocked loudly, and walked in.

"Henry? Are you here? I forgot to grab that stupid video that I...."

I cut myself off in mid-sentence when I caught a glimpse of him wearing my clothes. My bra had been stuffed full with something, making it look like he had breasts. He even had my pantyhose on, and had poorly applied makeup on his face!

"Henry?"

"What are you doing here?" he said, almost in a whisper.

"I forgot the video. The door was unlocked, so I came in" I lied.

"This isn't what you think" he said. Even under the coat of makeup, he was blushing.

"What is it then?" I said, pretending to be angry. "I leave my clothes here so that I can change if I need to, and I find that my boyfriend is wearing them! I'm falling in love with a man who wishes he was a woman! You're not gay are you? You lied to me..."

"No! Stop! Please, it's not like that!" he insisted.

I had him now. Trapped. I was victorious! My theory was proven beyond a doubt. I would write this all up, and graduate with honors. But I decided to have some fun with him now, to teach him a lesson. He was so hateful and closed minded. I would show him a thing or two.

"I feel so violated! You're wearing my clothes!" I said, almost yelling.

"Faye! Keep it down! People will hear you!"

"Hear me saying that you're dressed up like a woman? Do you want to be me Henry? Is that it? Perhaps I should call you Hazel instead."

"No!" he replied.

"Yes. Hazel Brown. Has a nice ring to it, like a Dickens character."

"I'm not Hazel!" he insisted.

"Oh, do you have another name for yourself? Most cross dressers do. When they dress up, they become someone else in their mind. So are you Michelle? Wendy? Katie?"

"No!" he insisted.

"Then who? Tell me now!" I said, threateningly.

"Priscilla" he said, defeated.

"Oh, a lovely female name. I can call you 'Prissy' for short!"

He stood mute. That must have been his private nickname for himself too.

"Okay Prissy, I'll give you two choices right now, since you've just crushed me by having pretended to be someone who you're really not."

"What?" he said weakly.

"Choice one: I can go tell *everyone* about you. Tell the whole school that you are the biggest cross dresser of them all!"

"Please don't do that!" he said.

"Choice two: let me doll you up some more, and you go out with me tonight to the bar."

"I can't do that! People will recognize me!" he said.

"Not when I'm through with you. And not only that, we're going to the lesbian bar. It will only be other women. You claim to hate them, so you won't know any of them. Or do you have lots of gay friends you hang out with, and you just don't tell me?"

"No! It's not like that! Please!"

"One or two? Should I call the school newspaper?"

I pulled a camera out of my purse while he went to get a drink to calm his nerves. When he got back, I snapped a picture of him.

"Hey!" he said, "What's that for?"

"Insurance. If you're a good girl tonight, I'll give you the film. But if you so much as do *anything* against what I say, then this goes to the school paper. Got it, Prissy?"

"Yes" he said.

"Yes what?"

He gave me a blank look.

"Yes *Mistress*. Tonight, I control you. And you had better hope you please me."

"Yes Mistress, I will" he said.

He had the look in his eyes like a puppy dog does, the first time that he learns to heel when being walked. He was broken. He was *mine*.

* * *

I helped 'Prissy' with her makeup, making 'her' as pretty as possible. 'She' didn't protest very much through it all. It wasn't until I took her by the hand and started out the door that it dawned on her that I was actually serious. Then she whined a bit, but I twisted her arm with threats until she shut up.

I drove us to a local bar which was quiet and dimly lit. It was full of women of all shapes, sizes, and types. The only thing: they were all lesbians (or lesbo-curious). I had to admit having visited there myself a few times.

I made Prissy sit with me at a table in the middle of the place. That meant that we had constant traffic going by us. She looked like a either a man in drag, or a very butch girl. So there were lots of women eyeing her up and down. I saw a friend of mine over at another table.

"I'll be right back Prissy. Don't leave this table, do you understand?!!"

"Yes Mistress" she whispered.

I went and chatted with my friend, who I had met at school years ago. We caught up on what was going on with each other, and had a lovely chat. I kept an eye on Prissy. At least three women hit on her, and one of them was sitting at the table with her now.

Imagine how Henry must have felt! He hated people with alternate lifestyles, but here he was, as one of them, in public! He claimed to only be interested in women, and here he was being hit on by women, but unable to respond to them. It was wonderful to watch him squirm.

When I returned to the table, there was a very feminine looking blonde girl flirting with Prissy. He must have been so excited to have a knockout like that going at him! But to keep her interest up, Prissy had to be a girl.

"Oh, were you with her?" asked the blonde.

"No, she's just a friend. I'm leaving. She's all yours" I said.

I walked out the door, and caught a helpless glance from Henry as the blonde moved in for the kill on him.

* * *

I didn't ever see Henry again. In a way that is. Because, I did see Prissy from time to time. You see, Henry decided that he had found himself when he was Prissy, and that he had fallen in love with the little blonde babe he met in the bar. He would become a full time woman in order to have a chance with her. And when she found out that he was a man trying to become a woman, it made her fall in love with him.

We all had a happy ending. Especially me, because my paper got an A+, and I graduated with honors. All thanks to Prissy.

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