Rebecca's Peace
                       by Cindi Johnson of Dallas, Texas


                            Part 1,  Wanting Maria

It was one-o-clock on a Friday afternoon. I had gotten off work early that
afternoon, not because I had anything much to do, but just because it was a
nice autumn day and I had accumulated several days of unused vacation. My job
as an accountant at NationsBank kept me inside and occupied, such that come
the end of the week I was usually more than ready to leave work and relax.

I had been working there for five years now, ever since I graduated from
college in Iowa and moved to Dallas to get my first "real" job. I had more or
less settled into this new life, although I hadn't made a lot of friends, 
which was OK since I generally preferred to keep to myself, anyway. But of
course, like all young men my age, I was always looking out for a mate. When I
first came to Dallas I had developed a serious relationship with a co-worker,
Mary, but after about a year she was offered a higher position at the
company's headquarters in North Carolina; against my wishes she took the job. 
This hurt me so that I broke off our relationship completely, even though we
probably could have made a go of it despite the move. I hadn't heard from her 
in over two years.

I had also met LeeAnn about nine months ago at a restaurant downtown. She just
happened to be sitting by me during lunch, so we started talking, which led to
a number of dates over several months, but then the relationship just faded.
We didn't have any fights or anything. I don't know exactly what happened; I
suspect that LeeAnn just wasn't physically that attracted to me. Not that I'm
ugly; no, I'm more or less just an average guy, but at 5'9" and with a slender 
build, I just wasn't what she wanted. She wanted a big guy, and I wasn't one.

So, I was on my own as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex
that day, looking forward to relaxing, jumping into the pool, maybe having a
beer.

As I approached the door to my apartment, I noticed my neighbor's door was 
open. Three young women lived there; all were very pretty, but unfortunately
all had ignored me during the six months they lived there. In fact, I had met
only one of them, Maria, although I had seen the other two on occasion, coming
and going.

Maria was a beautiful young lady, maybe about 24 years old, and at about 5'10" 
very tall for a latina girl. Slender with a dark complexion, she always seemed
to be nicely dressed, and always seemed to wear makeup, even on Saturday
mornings. Once, about a month ago, she was at the pool when I went swimming;
that day she wore a yellow swimsuit which definitely showed off her long legs,
firm tummy, and small but perky breasts. I had introduced myself, but that's 
about as far as things got.

So it was that I was pleasantly surprised when Maria came out of the open door
and spoke to me.

"Hi, Jim," she said, smiling nicely, "how are you?"  At least she remembered
my name, I thought to myself.

"I'm doing fine, Maria," I replied, "What's going on? Are you all moving out 
already?"                   

"Oh, no," she laughed, "we're just cleaning up. We've got a party planned 
tonight."          

"Well if you need help with anything, just let me know. I got off work early 
today," I said, not really expecting her to take me up on the offer. 

"If you're serious," she replied, "change clothes and then come over; we could 
surely use some help."

It didn't take me to long to think that one over; after all, I had nothing to 
do and Maria was a beauty. Maybe I'd hit a home run! Worth a try, I thought.  

About a half hour later, after I had changed into jeans, I went over to help
Maria. Their door was still open, so I walked on in. Maria welcomed me and
introduced me to her roommates: Angela was shorter and not quite as thin as
Maria, her reddish-blond hair was cut short and she was casually dressed in
jeans and a sweater; and Patricia, also very pretty, with long black hair.
All three were latinas, Patricia, like Maria, had a dark complexion, while
Angela's complexion was nearly as light as mine. Apparently Angela had more 
Spanish blood and less Indian blood than did Maria and Patricia.  Each spoke
with a slight spanish accent.

"OK, Maria, how can I help," I asked after she had introduced me to her
friends. "Do you need any furniture moved around, or any heavy boxes moved?"

"Oh, no," she replied, "nothing like that. But Angela is busy making snacks 
for tonight, while Patricia needs to do my nails, and then I'll have to do 
hers. And you know how it is, a girl can't do anything until her nails are 
dry!"             

"Maybe you could help us with the wash," she continued. "If you would just 
take that basket over there to the laundry room. Then take the clothes that
are in the washer, put them in the dryer, and put these into the wash. We
could really use your help!"     

Maria sounded so nice, so sincere, and yes -so sexy- that I was caught off
guard. Instead of refusing to do it, I stammered, "Ah..., I don't know. That's 
not really what I had in mind.  I'm not too good at laundry...."

"Please...," Maria responded, "we'll be so grateful!"

"Oh,...OK, I guess so," I agreed reluctantly.

"Oh thank you," Maria exclaimed, and even kissed me on the cheek. How could I
say no to such a sweet girl?

I went to the basket and picked it up. I blushed when I saw what was in it: it
appeared to be full of lingerie.

"Now, be sure to put the washer on delicate," she said, and immediately hang
up the clothes when they dry. We don't want wrinkles in our blouses, do we, 
Patricia?"  

"No," Patricia replied, looking at me oddly, "I suppose not."

"And by the way, that basket has our lingerie in it. Have you ever washed 
lingerie," Maria asked, seemingly seriously.

"No, of course not," I quickly replied.

"That's OK, it's not hard; just don't use high heat. Dry at the mid-range 
level. Don't worry, you'll do fine."

I picked up the basket and was headed out the door when Maria stopped me.
"Wait," she said, then came over and set a small red purse on top the clothes,
"here's my change purse. It should have enough quarters in it."     

The laundry room was in the next building over from mine, which meant I had to
walk through my building, through the parking lot, and into the next building,
all while carrying girls laundry. How the hell did I let myself get talked
into this, I wondered to myself. It seems odd to me that girls would ask a guy
they hardly know to wash their clothes, but Maria made it seemed like it was
normal. Maybe there's a cultural difference that I'm not aware of, I thought
to myself.

I felt odd carrying the basket of lingerie, but with it being early afternoon
there was nobody around. But my luck changed when I reached the laundry room;
a pretty blond girl, wearing tight jeans and a low cut blouse, was in there
washing three loads of clothes. She was sitting on a chair reading Glamour
magazine, waiting for her clothes to dry.

The laundry room was small, with only a half-dozen machines and an equal
number of dryers. I set the basket down and took a few quarters from the red
coin purse, which I then put in my back pocket away from view. After buying a
fifty cent bag of soap, I set the machine up. Once the soap was in and the
machine set to its delicate cycle, I had no choice but to put the clothes in.
I couldn't help but blush when I started going through the girls lingerie; the 
basket was filled with bras, panties, slips, and half slips; some were white,
others were various shades of pink. The panties and slips, in particular, were
very lacy. In a way it was rather exciting sexually to be handling
undergarments of those three pretty girls, but at the same time it was
humiliating.

I was nearly finished loading the washer when I noticed that the blond girl
had set down her magazine and was watching me closely.  Somewhat flustered, I
inadvertently dropped a lacy pink bra onto the floor; the blond smiled as I
bent down to retrieve it.

After I got all the lingerie into the machine, I turned my attention to the
washer which had already finished its cycle. I went to the washer that Maria
filled earlier, and began to unload the wet clothes. Instead of lingerie, this
washer had in it several skirts, a flowered jumper, a sundress, and several
blouses. After loading these into a dryer, I went to sit down. There were only
a few chairs in the room, so I had no choice but to sit near the blond.

"I couldn't help but notice that you have a very nice taste in clothes," she 
said to me after I had seated myself. "I've never known a man that owned so 
much lingerie. Why, you have more lingerie than I do!"

"No, no...," I replied, blushing, "those don't belong to me."

"Oh..," she said skeptically, " then whose are they?"

"Well, they belong to my neighbors. I'm just helping them out a bit."

"Yes, I see," she said sarcastically, "you just happen to wash lingerie for 
your neighbors.  Oh, don't be so afraid. I don't care what you wash. Or for
that matter, what you wear!  Here, would you like to read my magazine? I've 
finished it and besides, my clothes are done now."

"Thank you," I replied. Only when she handed it to me did I remember she had
been reading Glamour, a girl's magazine. The pretty blond took her clothes 
from the dryer. "Have a nice day," she said to me as she walked out.

More comfortable now that I was alone, I flipped through the magazine; it was
filled with colorful ads selling such things as pantyhose, lipstick, makeup,
and clothes. Each ad had a beautiful model in it. My thoughts turned back to
Maria; maybe if I asked her out......

                          Part 2,  Trapped in Skirts


After about an hour I finished with the laundry. As I removed the clean,
dainty undergarments from the dryer I again found myself somewhat aroused.
What the hell, I thought to myself, I'll go ahead and ask Maria for a date. 
She's a little demanding, but she's sure cute.

My arms were full as I returned to Maria's apartment, carrying a basket filled 
with lingerie, with the skirts and dresses carefully folded and set atop the
basket. Maria was on the phone as I entered the apartment.

"But Becky," she said, pleading, "you promised! You've got to come. Everything 
is planned already. We need you!"  But apparently her requests were to no 
avail; she looked dejected as she hung up the phone.

"Oh, thank you so much," she said to me as she rushed to take her clothes from
me. She even gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was just getting ready to ask her
for a date when she explained to the other two what had happened. Apparently
Becky was the maid who was going to help out tonight at the party, but since
her baby was sick, she couldn't come.

"I just don't know what to do," she said sadly.

"I wish I could help, but I don't know any domestic help," I said to her, 
wanting to let her know I felt bad for her, and also wanting to enter the
conversation so that I might get a chance to ask her out.

"Why, thank you," Maria said to me, you're so nice."  Then suddenly a smile 
came to her face and she said to me, "But maybe you could help us. I've got an 
idea. She came over to me and held my hand sincerely and said, "You could help 
out tonight in place of Becky.  It wouldn't be hard at all, just help out in 
the kitchen and such. What do you say? Oh, please do it. Please! We've been 
planning this party for so long." Then she whispered into my ear "It's for 
Patricia. Her boyfriend is going to propose tonight, but don't tell her!"

Then aloud again, she begged me, "Please help me out, just this once. I'll be 
forever grateful!"

Damn, I thought to myself, if I say no, I might blow my chance with Maria.

"Oh..., OK... I suppose so....," I said after she kissed my cheek again.

"Oh Goody! You're the greatest! Now, we'll have to start getting you ready. 
Let me think..., I know! I used to work at a nightclub, and I still have the
uniform. It looks just like a maid's uniform. I should fit you just fine, 
though of course we'll need to modify you a bit," she giggled.

Angela and Patricia both looked at me with a hint of astonishment. It took a
moment for me to realize what Maria was contemplating.

"Ah....," I hesitated, "Wait a minute. What do you mean, uniform? I don't 
understand..."

Well, you know," Maria continued, speaking as if her request was not in the
least bit bizarre, "we need a maid, so you'll need to dress up as a maid. But
don't worry, we'll help you. After all, it's no big thing, and my clothes 
should fit you just fine.  Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate this! How 
can I ever repay you." With that she came over to me and put her arms around 
me and gave me a kiss on the mouth, not a passionate kiss, more like a peck,
but still enough to disrupt my thinking.

"But I can't do that," I protested.  

"Sure you can. Please give it a try, please. If later on you change your mind, 
that's OK, I'll understand. But give it a try, won't you?"        

I hesitated a bit, and Maria took this to signal agreement. She grabbed my arm
and started to lead me to the bathroom, talking so that I couldn't get a word 
of protest in.

"OK, Jim, first thing you'll have to do is shave. I'll help. We want you 
smooth for tonight, OK?"

"But Maria! You don't expect me to wear your clothes, do you," I asked in 
exasperation.

"Why not," she replied, "surely a man like you isn't insecure sexually? Come 
on, now, no one will know, and I promise to make it up to you." With that she 
pulled me into the bathroom and kissed me, this time with a little more
passion. I stood dumbfounded and more than a little lovestruck as Maria took
an electric razor and started shaving my arms and underarms, then unzipped my
pants, had me remove them, and proceeded to shave my legs. Then my T-shirt was
removed and my chest hair shaved off. Within a matter of minutes, before I
fully grasped what this beautiful Mexican lass was doing, almost all my body
hair lay on Maria's bathroom floor. Next she took out a straight razor and a
can of lotion and instructed me to carefully shave my face, and to go over one
more time my legs, chest, and arms.

"While you are already smooth enough to fool a man, us girls would notice the 
stubs. And since a lot of my girlfriends are coming tonight, we need you
completely smooth. Now I've got to go to work on getting your clothes ready." 
With that Maria closed the bathroom door, leaving me alone. I looked into the
mirror with a combination of horror and amazement. I already appeared almost
feminine. On the one hand I wanted to just leave, but on the other hand, I now
wanted Maria even more than ever. With touches and kisses she had hooked me
like a fish. After some reflection, I decided, what the heck, it was worth a
try. After all, no one would ever know, and she said I could bail out anytime.

I proceeded to very carefully shave my face, using Maria's pink razor, and 
then did the same with my arms and legs, all the while entertaining serious
misgivings but also desirous thoughts towards Maria. When I finished I
showered and put my clothes back on and stepped out into the hall.

"Hold it," Maria shouted. "We're all running a little behind, so I'm sorry if 
I seem to be rushing you. Won't you forgive me?"

"Sure," I replied, ready to forgive her anything for a date.

"OK," Maria said, then quickly handed me some clothes. "Go back into the 
bathroom and put these on. Then come out and we'll get you fitted. And be sure 
to tuck your thing well out of the way. Not that I would mind, but Patricia,
you know, has a fiance and all." I took the clothes as Maria almost pushed me 
back into the bathroom and closed the door.  She seemed in such a hurry and
all that this party must have been important to her; maybe by helping her out
she would show me some favors later.

I looked at what she had given me. On top was a pair of panties, soft pink in
color, and of a strong material like lycra. These had lace trim forming a
triangle in the front. Under that was a matching lacy pink bra, which I
recognized as having been one of the bras I washed earlier. Curious about what
it would be like, I went ahead and slipped both garments on. The panties were
were so tight that they held my maleness firmly out of the way. I was looking
at myself in the mirror, thinking that I would never let anyone see me like
this, when Maria suddenly opened the bathroom door.

"Oh, you look just darling! Come out here and let me see," she said as she
grabbed my arm and pulled me out to the hallway.

"Maria," I said, "I'm sorry, but I don't feel right about this. I think I'll 
have to pass on the party tonight."

"Oh," she said, dismissing my concerns as unimportant, "I need you! And 
besides, we are almost done now. Here, let's give you some breasts. You've
never seen a maid without breasts, have you?" She had put some water into two 
pink balloons, which she now placed into the cups of the bra I wore.
Instantly, I had tits. Next, she took a blond wig and carefully placed it on
my head. I now had hair that nearly touched my shoulders, and which had a nice
feminine curl to it.

I stood there in the hall, feeling like a complete fool and wondering how to
get out of this strange situation that Maria had forced me into, when Angela
came into the hallway, stopped, stared at me for a few moments, then started
giggling. She happened to be carrying a camera with her, so without asking she
quickly snapped a few photos of me, looking astonished, wearing only pink
lingerie.

"Hey," I exclaimed once I gained some composure, "don't take pictures of me 
looking like this!"

"Why not," she answered. "I filled the camera with film for the party tonight, 
and you are part of the party. Besides, you look kinda cute!"   

"Kinda cute!," Maria added, "why, I say she looks gorgeous." Then she gave me
a big hug and kissed me again.

I blushed. No, I didn't like being referred to as "she", but on the other 
hand, I did like being kissed by Maria.

"Now I've got to go to the grocery store for a minute. Why don't you let 
Angela paint your nails and help you with your makeup."  Without waiting for 
me to respond to her request, Maria left. Always in a hurry, it seemed.

"OK," Angela said after Maria had left, "let's get this over with. Before long 
the guests will be arriving, and we sure don't want you looking like this when 
that happens. Go into the kitchen." 

Angela, a very pretty girl, had changed into a short black leather skirt, and
a low cut blouse that showed ample cleavage. She wore dark pantyhose but
didn't have any shoes on yet. She followed me into the kitchen and then called              
out to me; as I turned my head she took another snapshot.

"This is a bun shot," she laughed. "I just had to get one of your cute little 
buns! Now sit down at the table."  

"Wait a minute," I said, having second thoughts, I don't think I want to do 
this."   

"Well, when Maria comes back you can argue with her about that. Leave me out 
of it. But for now we are going to do what Maria wants, so sit down at the
table!"          

I did as she ordered. I didn't want to get into an argument with her when, 
after all, it was Maria I was helping out here.

She had me lay my hands down flat, then used superglue to apply false nails on
top of my real ones; then she expertly applied a thick coat of bright red
polish. When finished with the first hand, she began on the second. All the
while I sat across from her, wearing only a bra and panties.

"What's your name," she asked, with a spanish accent.   

"Jim", I replied.

"Jim," she repeated. "No, you can't be Jim tonight. From this moment on you 
are Rebecca. After all, you are replacing Rebecca tonight; she was going to be
our maid. So, now you are Rebecca. You can let your friends call you Becky,
but to me you will remain Rebecca."

"I guess that means you are not my friend," I asked Angela, jokingly.

"Well," she said matter-of-factly, "I don't even know you, and besides, you 
are just the maid," she laughed.

"Now, hold your hands at your side, fingers straight, and don't touch
anything. Look at me and keep your eyes closed."  I did what Angela commanded 
and she proceeded to apply makeup to my face; this seemed to go on for a half
hour or more, but I kept silent, hoping Maria would hurry back. I protested a
bit when she plucked hair from my brows, but she told me to be quiet or she
would cut something off me that I would really miss. I laughed at her "joke",
but she acted like she was serious.  The final thing she applied was lipstick;
I recognized its taste from the times I had made out with Mary.

"Stand up, Rebecca," Angela ordered me when she finished, "but be careful not 
to touch your face for the rest of the night. Girls don't like to smear their 
makeup."

"Well, I'm not a girl," I said forcefully as I stood up. Angela's
condescending attitude towards me was making me angry.

"Shush," she commanded, "maids don't talk back. Now put this on. You can't 
stand around in your bra and panties all night, now can you?" She handed me a 
lacy slip, also pink. With her help I carefully slid it over my new body
without smudging my makeup. Angela then stepped back and scrutinized her
creation. It felt very odd to have a skirt covering my thighs.

"Very nice. You are one sexy senorita, Rebecca." She then took the camera off
the table and snapped two more pictures.

"Will you quit taking pictures of me," I yelled at Angela.

"Shush, girl," she immediately snapped back. "Don't you ever yell at me again! 
Just because Maria maybe likes you doesn't give you any power over me. You are 
in my apartment, so behave! And if you don't, you might just see blowups of 
some interesting photographs posted all over this complex."

"OK, OK," I said to her, trying to calm her down. "I'm sorry. I just feel 
funny dressed like this, that's all."       

I began to realize that maybe I'd made a big mistake in getting into this. But 
what could I do now?  It was true that Angela could cause me trouble if I
crossed her. I decided to follow her orders, but once Maria got back, I would
explain to her that I just couldn't go through with this. Maria would 
understand, and would keep Angela in line.

"Rebecca, put these on, and after that I want you to practice walking in 
Maria's high heels. I'll be in my bedroom getting myself ready, so don't 
bother me. And by the way, don't you even think of leaving, or else," Angela 
threatened.

"OK," I replied, "I'll do what you want. Don't get so angry."

Angela went into her bedroom and closed the door. I had hoped she would leave
the camera out, so that I could destroy the film, but instead she took it with
her into the bedroom. I imagined that she would change the film and hide the
roll which the photos of me.

She had handed me a pair of white pantyhose and black open-toed high heels. It
took me several minutes to coerce the pantyhose onto my legs. My anger towards
Angela grew as I realized she apparently just assumed I would know how to put
on pantyhose, as if I were just another girl.

That done, I slipped on the high heels. They were too tight; Maria's feet were 
obviously smaller than mine, even though she was taller than me. The shoes had
heels at least two inches high. When I stood and tried to walk, I found myself
very wobbly, and forced by the heels to take short, dainty steps. I realized
now why women wearing high heels always looked sexy to me: it was because the
shoes forced them to walk in such a feminine manner.

I walked back and forth through the apartment, eventually getting a little
better at it. Walking past the bathroom, I noticed that my own clothes were
not there; Angela had moved them, or hid them. This also meant I didn't have 
keys to either my apartment or to my car. I was trapped, since dressed like
this I surely couldn't go to the manager's office to get them to open my
apartment door.

It was already after five when Maria returned.  I was standing in the center
of the living room, still wearing the pink lingerie and slip. For a second she
stared at me with a look of astonishment, then she rushed over to me and
hugged me in the way that girls hug each other.

"My, you really turned out nice. I can't thank you enough for saving my party. 
But you had better get your dress on before guests start arriving!" Maria took 
my arm and started to lead me towards her bedroom.

"Maria," I protested, "I've changed my mind. I can't go through with this. It 
was stupid of me to volunteer. I'm sorry if I've messed things up for you, but
I've got to change back into my own clothes."

"Oh, don't worry so much," Maria replied. "You'll do fine. Don't worry. Now 
come with me. Once you get your uniform on you'll feel much better, I  
promise.

"No, Maria," I said. "I won't do it. I feel totally ridiculous dressed like 
this. I like you, Maria; in fact I think you are very attractive, which is why
I got into this mess. But I will not dress like a girl, and I definitely will
not be a maid at your party!"

I didn't want to hurt Maria, but my mind was made up. I wasn't going to
pretend to be  girl all night, and not just a girl, but a maid, of all things!
How the hell had I let things get this far?

Just then, as I was giving Maria my ultimatum, Angela's bedroom door opened, 
and she stepped into the hall. She looked beautiful. Her makeup was perfect,
her lips bright red, her hair so soft. She still wore the black leather skirt,
but now she also wore a red silk blouse and matching red high heels, higher
than mine by at least an inch. Her overall look was sexy and tough.

"OK, you two," Angela said to us in a very authoritative voice, "we don't have 
time for games. Our guests will be here in another 30 minutes. This party  is
important, especially for Patricia, and I don't want either of you to mess 
things up.

Rebecca," she continued, glaring at me, "you are the maid tonight. And that's 
that. If I hear just one more protest from you, I promise to put photos of
your panty-clad fanny in everybodys' hands.  And maybe you didn't notice that
you have no mens clothes left to wear?

"So, Rebecca, tonight you are our maid. You will serve me, Maria, Patricia, 
and our guests. And throughout the evening you will behave nicely, and you
will smile. You will be the perfect, subservient girl."            

"I can be a real bitch, as Maria knows. So don't push me. And if you try to 
get physical with us, let me tell you that my boyfriend is real tough, and he
can be very mean.  So if you are thinking of trying to force me to give you
your clothes or your photos, just know that my boyfriend will grind you into
hamburger."      

"If you do a good job, Rebecca, then after the party you may have your other 
clothes back, and this will all be over, and nobody will see your pretty
photos."    

"Do you have any questions, Rebecca," Angela asked, still glaring at me. I
looked towards Maria; she looked surprised but also afraid. Apparently Maria
was not one to challenge Angela.

I wasn't a fool; I could see I had no options.                  

"No...no..," I stammered, "I'll do what you want."

"Good," Angela said to me, "now go with Maria and put your uniform on!"

Maria took my hand and led me into her bedroom. Lying on her bed was a black
dress which, I presumed, was meant for me.

"Sorry about that," Maria said to me in a hushed tone, so that Angela would
not overhear us, "I hope you forgive me. But it won't be so bad, believe me. 
You'll do just fine. Nobody will recognize you. And besides, anything is
better than getting Angela mad; she can be really mean, you know. Here, let's  
slip this pretty dress over your head."

Maria held the dress in front of me. It was entirely black, had short sleeves
and a fancy white lace collar. It also had lace around the hem. A shiver went
through me as I realized that I was in fact the maid, that this was not just a
game anymore.

"Rebecca is such a pretty name," Maria continued talking as she carefully
helped me with the dress, "I'm so happy you chose it. I think you'll get used 
to it. You look so cute that the name fits you very well!  Hold your breath
in, Rebecca, while I zip your dress up."

I sucked in my stomach. The dress was tight on me. The skirt seemed way too
short, at least three inches above my knees. After the dress was secured in
place, Maria put a small, lacy white apron around my waist, and tied it in the
back into a large bow. She took my hand and led me to the full length mirror.
I blushed with embarrassment when I saw what I had become: a pretty, demure
young maid, ready to serve. Next, Maria took a small white name tag, on which
she had written "Rebecca", and pinned it to my uniform, just above my left
breast.

"Now, to make you extra special, I will loan you a pair of my earrings," Maria
said, gushing with enthusiasm. She took a pair of earrings, gold rings nearly
two inches in diameter, clipped them securely onto my ears, and said "these 
will hurt some. Don't you wish you had pierced ears like most girls do?"  I 
didn't answer; the earrings hung down at least an inch below my ears, and I 
could feel them jangle when I moved my head.

"Oh Rebecca," Maria exclaimed as she stood back and gazed at her creation.
"You are so pretty! Now listen: you must answer the door when anyone arrives: 
first curtsy slightly, then introduce yourself and invite them in. If they
have coats, take them and hang them in the closet. There is beer and wine in
the kitchen; you must ask our guests their preference and then serve them. And
every thirty minutes or so, you must make the rounds with a tray of
hors d'oeuvres; Patricia has them in the refrigerator.  When you are not busy 
with those things, you should stay in the kitchen, with the kitchen doors
closed. You must not drink any alcohol; that is a no-no for a maid!"

"Other than that, just be prepared for anything. If our guests need any 
assistance, they will summon you. You may want to talk as little as possible,
since your voice isn't terribly girlish yet; you'll have to practice that some
more."

"Tell me...," I stammered, afraid to ask, "will the guests know ... that...,
well..., that I'm not a...a...real girl?"  

"Oh, don't worry so much," Maria laughed, but I noticed she avoided promising 
to keep my gender a secret from the guests. "Here is a purse. All girls carry 
purses, you know. You would feel lost without one! I put some things in it for
you, like mascara and lipstick, just in case you need to touch up later." She 
handed me a small white purse and showed me how to set its long strap on my
shoulder.

"Now," she said after coaching me for a minute or two, "I'll go out and knock 
on the bedroom door. You answer it as if I were a guest." Maria went out, 
closed the door, then knocked on it.

Apprehensively I opened the door. I did my best imitation of a curtsy, and
said in the most feminine pitch I could muster, "Hi, my name is Rebecca. I am 
the maid, so please let me know if you should need anything at all this
evening.  Please come in and have a seat in the living room."            

Maria started giggling. "Oh, you do just great! But you may want to practice 
your curtsies a bit more. When you bend your knees, you should grasp the hem
of your skirt with your fingers, and raise the hem just ever so slightly as
your knees bend. Not too high, though; you don't want to show your panties off 
to our guests," she laughed.  "I don't know why maids have to do that, I guess 
it's just to show subservience. But don't worry, you'll do fine. Now go into 
the kitchen and practice your curtsies while you wait for the first guest; I
have to touch up my own makeup."               

"Thank you, Maria," I said as I left her room. At this point I felt as if she
were my only friend. I was relying on her to help me get through this ordeal.

I walked into the kitchen. Patricia was there, finishing with the trays. She
stared at me for a moment, as if she couldn't believe what she saw. Even 
though Patricia was clearly a quiet and shy girl, she couldn't help but smile 
at the site of this anglo man transformed into a pretty maid.

"Hi Patricia," I said. Too embarrassed to look into her eyes, I instead
averted my gaze towards the floor. "Maria told me to wait in the kitchen."

Patricia wore a flowered dress, and conservative high heels only about an inch
in height. With my high heels on, I was considerably taller than her.

"Yes, ah..., Rebecca...," she said haltingly, also embarrassed by the unusual
situation, "everything in here is finished. If you can't find anything 
tonight, come and ask me.  And..., by the way...," she continued, apparently 
not sure how I would take her comments, "you do look very pretty. Prettier 
than some girls I know."

I could tell she meant it as a sincere compliment, so I said "Thank you, 
Patricia. You are very pretty also."

Patricia went to join Angela in the living room, leaving me alone in the
kitchen. I practiced my curtsies, watching my reflection in the black surface
of the refrigerator. I was extremely nervous, so much that I considered just
leaving.  But where would I go? I couldn't even get into my apartment. And 
Angela would see to it that everyone in the apartment would see pictures of me
in woman's lingerie.                  

After practicing for ten minutes, I sat down to try and relax my nerves. I set
my purse on the table and, hoping Maria had put my keys in it, emptied it out.
Inside the purse was a tube of red lipstick, mascara, a compact of face
powder, nail polish, and two items wrapped in shiny blue and white paper. I
picked up one of the wrapped items and read the print on it; it was a tampon,
regular size. I blushed in humiliation as I realized what I was holding.

Just at that moment Angela walked in, followed by Maria. Both were surprised
to see me sitting at the table, looking as if I were ready to open a tampon.

"Gosh," Angela said derisively, "I didn't know you were on your period. We 
don't want any PMS tantrums tonight, Rebecca!"  

I quickly put everything back into my little white purse, and said to Maria,
"I'm sorry..., I suppose that was yours.  I... a... was just looking through 
the purse.  I....a..., didn't realize what it was."                             

"Oh Rebecca, you are as afraid as a little girl," Maria laughed in response.
"Don't worry so much. You can use my tampon if you want, I don't mind! I won't 
spank you or anything!"                        

"Stand up, Rebecca," Angela commanded. "Let me check your uniform."

I did as requested, not saying anything. Angela closely looked me over. She
lifted the hem of my skirt, saying she wanted to make sure my slip wouldn't 
show. Then she ordered me to hold a tray as if I were going to serve the
guests. Again I did as she commanded; what else could I do?

While I stood holding the tray, she took three more photographs of me. "Don't 
worry, Rebecca," she said, "these photos are for me. Nobody you know will ever
see them..., that is, assuming you do good tonight."   I could only pray that 
she would keep her word.


                              Part 3,  The Party

The kitchen door led directly to the entry foyer, such that while in the
kitchen I was also close to the door into the apartment. I was alone in the
kitchen for only a few minutes before I heard a knock on the door. I gathered
all my strength and tried to focus myself on my new identify, that is, a young
female maid. I realized that being a totally convincing maid could limit the
humiliation of my position; better the guests take me for a girl in the rather
lowly position of maid, than for a male in the degrading job of a female maid.

I opened the door. Before me stood two attractive young women: one was
hispanic with dark hair permed into a cascade of tiny curls, wearing a tight
blue dress and matching high heels; the other an anglo girl with long, light
brown hair and blue eyes, wearing a beige blouse, white slacks, and flats.

"Hi," I said in as steady, feminine a voice as I could, while slightly bending
my knee and holding the sides of my skirt in my now well-practiced curtsy, "my 
name is Rebecca. I am the maid. If either of you should need anything tonight,
just ask me.  Angela, Maria, and Patricia are in the living room; please
follow me."     

Both girls' eyes opened wide, obviously surprised to find such formality at 
what they thought a simple get together.

"Well, thank you, Rebecca," the anglo girl said to me, "you are indeed a well 
trained maid!  My name is Donna, and my friend's name is Suzy." 

"I'm very pleased to meet you both," I replied, then led them into the living 
room. As we entered Maria and Angela were sitting on the couch, and Patricia
was putting a CD in the player; all turned to watch how I did.

Because Angela was obviously the boss in this house, I turned to her and said,
"Miss Angela, Donna and Suzy have arrived." I then turned to the new arrivals
and asked, "May I get you anything, perhaps some wine?"

"No thank you, Rebecca, but maybe a little later," Donna said.  Thankful I did
not have to serve them yet, I turned and walked in short, dainty steps back
towards the kitchen; once I reached the entry foyer I could hear my heels
click against the hard floor.  I overheard Donna say to someone, "My, where 
did you get the fancy maid? I've never seen anything like her before. She 
could be a maid on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous!" I heard the others 
laugh at the joke; once I closed the kitchen door I could no longer hear them.

Well, I thought to myself, I've passed the first test. Maybe I can make it 
through this.  Just then their was another knock at the door; I pulled
together my composure and walked to the door and opened it.

This time a young married couple was at the door; the wife was hispanic, very
cute, barely over five feet tall, with hair gathered into a pony tail. She was
casually dressed in a yellow T-shirt and jeans. Her husband, taller and husky,
also wore jeans. The wife carried a young baby in one hand, and her purse and
diaper bad in the other. Her husband was apparently too macho to help her.

"Hi," I said again as I managed a feminine curtsy, "my name is Rebecca. I am 
the maid. If you should need anything tonight, please ask me.  Angela, Maria,
and Patricia are in the living room; please follow me."  

Both of them looked at me strangely. The man laughed and said, "Hey, I've 
never seen a maid anywhere but at hotels. I guess Angela must have won the
lottery."

His wife looked at me for a second or two, then said, "Rebecca, please carry 
my purse and the baby's bag." 

It became apparent that these guests would be more difficult to serve than the
other two. I did as commanded, taking the large diaper bag (pink background
with red and yellow flowers) and her brown leather purse, then leading them
into the living room.

Maria smiled as she saw me carrying the baby bag and purse, but didn't say 
anything.  After the mother had sat down I handed her the purse. I was going
to hand her the diaper bag when Angela spoke up.

"Rebecca, you may help Josie out tonight by helping to care for her little 
baby. Please take the diaper bag into the kitchen."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

"Wait," Josie said, "I smell something. I'm afraid I'll have to change the 
baby first."

"Oh, don't worry," Angela said, "Rebecca can do that. Besides, she needs the 
practice, as she's planning to become a new mother soon, isn't that so,
Rebecca?"

I blushed. Angela was making this difficult for me, the bitch.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, not wanting to contradict Angela, "I hope to."

"Are you married," Donna asked.

"No Ma'am, I'm not married yet," I replied uneasily.

"Well don't worry, Rebecca," Angela laughed, "as cute as you are, it won't be 
long before a handsome man knocks you up!"

Josie handed me the baby, which I held close to my new breasts. Maria quickly
took the diaper bag and said, "I'll go to the kitchen and help Rebecca change 
the baby's diaper. Please excuse us." 

"Thanks, Rebecca," Josie said.

I was still blushing as Maria and I went into the kitchen.

"Sorry, Rebecca, Angela is being mean, isn't she? But tell me, do you really 
have a boyfriend or something?  I mean, you can't really want to be a mother, 
can you?"       

"Of course not, Maria," I said, almost in tears. "But what could I say? Why is 
Angela making fun of me. Has she told everybody already?"

"Told everybody what," Maria asked.

"You know..., that I'm not a..., a girl," I stammered.

"Oh, don't worry," she laughed. "If you think you're a girl, then you're a 
girl. Gosh, Rebecca, no one's gonna lift your skirt and pull down your panties 
just to see whether you're a real girl or not!  Besides, as far as I'm
concerned, you are a very pretty girl. So quit worrying, I'll take care of 
you!"  Her answer, ambiguous as it was, managed to calm my nerves a bit. In a 
way I actually felt glad that she called me a pretty girl; this from a girl
who just hours earlier I had hoped to ask out. How everything had changed so
suddenly!  I, the macho neighbor seeking to get into his neighbor's pants, had 
instead gotten into her panties.  Now I was a helpless young lady needing
Maria to protect me.

Together Maria and I managed to change the baby. "Just in case you have to do 
it later, when I'm not around, you had better learn how," Maria said. "You 
know, she continued, speaking to me as if I were a girlfriend instead of the
guy next door, "I've always wanted to be a mother. I used to play dolls when I 
was just a little girl, and practice changing my dolly's diapers. How about 
you, Rebecca, did you ever dress up and play mommy when you were little?"                               

"No, Maria," I protested, "I'm a guy, after all. Don't you remember?"

"I'm sorry, Rebecca," she replied. "I'm not making fun of you, really I'm not.            
It's just that you look so much like a girl now, you know,...and I've read
about sissy boys who really do dress up in girls clothes. I just thought maybe
you were like that."   Just then there was another knock at the door, abruptly 
ending this conversation. I began to realize that I had little chance of ever
making it with Maria; she didn't even consider me a man, apparently!  So all 
of this, this whole effort of mine, was wasted. I ended up as a maid solely
because of my desire for Maria, and now it was obvious that she has no sexual
feelings towards me.

"Rebecca, you get the door, and I'll take the baby back to Josie," Maria said.     
She cuddled the baby and walked back to the living room as I apprehensively
went to open the door.

This time there were three hispanic men at the door, all about my age. Trying
hard to channel my energy into the task of being a typical maid, I again did
my routine.

"Hello," I said, diverting my gaze towards the floor, and again managing to
accomplish a little-girl type of curtsy, "my name is Rebecca. I am the maid. 
If any of you should need anything tonight, just ask me.  Angela, Maria, and
Patricia are in the living room; please follow me."     

All three men stared at me, somewhat dumbfounded. Then the one in front, who
was the tallest of the three at maybe six foot, smiled and said, "Rebecca, is 
it? So when did Angela hire a maid, and an anglo maid at that? That little
movement you just did was cute. Why don't you do it again?"

The man in me wanted to tell this macho smart-aleck where to get off, but now
the man in me was almost extinguished, smothered by layers of feminine clothes
and makeup. Besides, were these three to discover my real identity, I would
probably be beaten. So I swallowed my pride, smiled sweetly, and with one high
heel placed slightly in front of the other, I gracefully flexed my knees while
at the same time I held the hem of my dress between my thumb and index finger.

"May I take you to the living room, please," I said to the three men.

"Well, girl, you can take me to either the living room or to the bedroom," the
tall man said. All three laughed at the joke. They apparently had been
drinking some before arriving.

When we reached the living room the tall one went over to Angela and gave her
a big kiss, right in front of everyone. He apparently was the boyfriend Angela
had told me about.  But, to my surprise, one of the other men sat next to
Maria, so close that their bodies touched, and then took her hand in his and
whispered some words to her. She kissed him on the mouth, and from the way her
eyes closed during the kiss, I could tell there was obviously something
between these two.

So, Maria had a boyfriend! She had, knowingly or not, led me on to expect that
some mutual attraction existed between us, but she was already taken!

I stood at the entry to the living room, somewhat dazed by what I saw.

"Rebecca, will you quit staring at Maria and Tony, and go bring some 
refreshments to us," Angela commanded. "Why, the way you look, one would think
you're jealous of Maria."  Then turning towards Maria, she continued, "You had 
better watch out, Maria, I think Rebecca may have the hots for your man!"  
Everybody laughed lightly, assuming that Angela was just kidding around.
Maria, her kiss interrupted, looked at me with an embarrassed "I'm sorry"
expression.

I quickly turned and went to the kitchen. I felt humiliated and deceived, and
yes, jealous too. But jealous of Tony, not Maria.

I took a tray that Patricia had prepared earlier, returned to the living room,
and started to circulate among the guests, saying "Would you like an 
hors d'oreuves, ma'am" or "Would you care for an hors d'oeuvres sir."  After 
about ten minutes I reached Maria and Tony, who were still cuddling and
speaking to each other in whispers, like young lovers do.

"Maria," I said softly, trying to hide my hurt, "would you care for any 
hors d'oeuvres."  Interrupted from her petting session, she looked up at me 
with surprise; her lipstick was smudged.

"Ah..., why thank you, Rebecca," she replied haltingly. "You are doing a very 
good job..., you're a great maid, Rebecca.

"Thank you, ma'am," I replied, thinking of how I would rather be holding her
and kissing her, than serving her as a maid.

"Ah.., Rebecca..., this is Tony, my boyfriend.  Tony, this is Rebecca. She's 
been very sweet to help us out with the party tonight."

"Hi, Rebecca," Tony said. "That uniform makes you look kinda sexy, you know!"

"Tony!, you stop that. No flirting with the hired help, mister," Maria
exclaimed only partly in jest.

"Tony," I said politely, "I'm pleased to meet you. Would you like an 
hors d'oeuvres?"  After they had each taken a finger sandwich I was eager to 
get away from them and let them go back to their romance. To Maria I was not a
suitor, I was just hired help wearing her clothes. And to Tony, I was
definitely not a rival for Maria's passions; no, he saw me as just a cute maid 
to tease.

After serving hors d'oeuvres I served drinks. Also, three more couples 
arrived. Between answering the door and serving the guests, I was kept too
busy to ponder upon my degradation.

About an hour and a half passed. Other than Patricia, everyone present was
drinking. Angela put some disco on the CD and she and her boyfriend began to
dance. Several other couples followed. I was clearing out some empty glasses
and plates when Josie motioned me to her.

"Rebecca," she said, "my husband and I would like to dance. Would you please 
hold the baby?" When I hesitated in responding, she added, "Please! You are so
good with children, I just know you'll make a great mother someday!"     

Josie, trying to compliment me, had instead embarrassed me. I blushed, but
took the baby from her, and a bottle of milk. As I sat down the hem of my
short skirt rode up so that my thighs were showing, my lacy pink slip was
showing, and possibly even my panties, but since my hands  were occupied with
the baby, I was unable to straighten my skirt. Nor, with the baby on my lap,
could I cross my legs. So I sat there, holding my knees tightly together,
rocking the baby while feeding her milk, as the party got louder. The baby
seemed oblivious to it all. In a way it was very relaxing to just sit there
caring for the baby; I soon realized how a young mother could find such a
mundane task to be very rewarding.

About fifteen minutes passed. The music stopped while Angela looked for more
CDs to dance to. Maria and Tony passed by; Maria looked down at me, sitting
there with the child, and said "Oh, Rebecca, you look so nice there. You 
really should have been a girl..., I mean mother! You should be a mother! You
would make a perfect mother to a baby like that, you know!"  

Damn, I thought to myself, she had almost let my secret out. If she keeps
drinking, I'm in trouble.

"Thank you, Maria," I said, smiling girlishly.

Just then the music started up; Angela had put on a slow song. One of Tony's 
friends walked up to us and said to Maria:

"Say, this is nice dancing music. Maria, why don't you hold the baby so that 
Rebecca and I can dance?"

I felt all my nerves instinctively tense up. Damn! How did I get into this
mess. I glanced towards Maria with a frightened look on my face; she appeared
both surprised and amused by my dilemma.

"No..., I'm sorry," I stuttered, unsure of just what to say, "I've got to work 
here..., I'm the maid..., I'm not allowed to dance...."

Maria laughed. "Oh, go ahead, Rebecca, no one will care! Here, give me your 
little baby, and you get up and dance with Antonio. Have some fun, girl!"  
Obviously feeling the wine she had been drinking, Maria giggled as she took
the little baby from my lap. I didn't know what to do. I sure wasn't going to
dance with a guy, of all things, but how could I get out of it? Refusing him
would raise more attention than going along with the flow.

Antonio didn't ask me again; he just reached down and grasped my hand, led me 
up from the chair, and out into the open area of the room where the other
couples were dancing. I blushed as Maria, amused, watched me being taken away
by Antonio.

Antonio put his arms around me and we danced; it was a slow song, which was
good, because I had no experience dancing in high heels. Antonio led; I
followed. After I calmed down and relaxed a bit I was able to move fairly
gracefully with the music.  I remembered Maria's advice: if I think I'm a
girl, then I'm a girl. Who's to say otherwise?  Not that I wanted to be a
girl, but at this moment I had to either be female or be in big trouble as a
male masquerading in womens clothing.

I saw Patricia, sitting on the couch with her boyfriend, watching us
wide-eyed. I could understand her astonishment; even had I been a real girl it
would have been an unusual sight: a tall blond maid in high heels, wearing a
sexy black maid's uniform with a frilly white apron, dancing with a young 
hispanic man. But to Patricia it was even more amazing, after all, she knew
that up until a few hours ago I had been just a typical young man. Luckily
Angela had left the room; she and her boyfriend had gone to her bedroom to
play.

"Thank you, Antonio, I enjoyed that," I said demurely when the song ended,
"but now I really must get busy with my work. After all, I am the maid here, 
not a guest."

He led me back over to where Maria, smiling so beautifully, was sitting with
the baby.

"OK, Rebecca," Antonio said, "I'll let you get back to being a maid, but only 
if you give me a kiss first. Come here.  Just one kiss."

Maria looked up, winked at me and giggled. My mind tried to focus on getting
out of this predicament, but it went blank. What were my options? All girls
learn at a young age how to graciously resist advances from boys, but I wasn't 
a girl. I did not understand the subtleties of the fairer sex.

To a male, a girl who doesn't say no is actually saying yes. Again, my 
hesitation in responding was taken by Antonio to mean that I would submit. He
gently pulled me close to him, put his arms around my waist, and kissed me on
the mouth. I couldn't just stand there like a rag doll, so I kissed him back. 

"Oh Rebecca," Maria called to me after the embrace ended, "what a sexy scene, 
girl. You two are getting me all hot!" She started giggling again as she 
resumed caring for the baby.

I went around the room, gathering up empty plates and glasses to take to the
kitchen. The kitchen doors closed and suddenly it was quiet. I could hear my
heart pounding. After setting the dirty dishes down I went to my white purse
and took out the compact, opened it, and using the compact's mirror I touched 
up my lipstick and added a little powder. The party would be over soon; with
care and adequate makeup, I could avoid discovery.

                             Part 4,   Acceptance

Grateful to be by myself for awhile, I made a fresh pot of coffee, then washed
the glasses and plates, all the while being careful not to stain my frilly
white apron or break my false fingernails.  I heard the front door open and a
number of people leave. I began to relax; it was almost over.

"Rebecca!"  I heard Angela call to me, "Rebecca! Please serve coffee!"

"Yes, Ma'am, I'll be right there," I called to her out the kitchen door. I
closed my eyes for a second to psyce myself into my role, then put cups and
saucers onto the tray, poured the coffee, and carried the tray into the living
room.  All the men had left; only women remained in the living room. The baby
girl lay sleeping on the couch.

Maria sat closest to the living room entrance, so I went to her first. My
heart ached as I looked at her, so young, beautiful, and happy.

"Maria," I asked, "would you like coffee?"

"Why yes, thank you," she gushed, smiling sweetly at me. "Rebecca, you have 
done such a good job tonight. You make an absolutely wonderful maid! I really
appreciate your help, you know."

"Thank you, ma'am," I replied. With Maria, I could tell she actually meant it;
she wasn't putting me down.

Maria said the guys had went to the apartment complex's recreation center to 
shoot pool for a while. So I went around the room, offering coffee to each
girl, one by one. They mostly ignored me as they talked animatedly about girl
things, including Patricia's engagement, which of their friends was seeing 
who, which of their friends were pregnant, where they bought their dresses,
and so on.  And of course they discussed men: this man was "sooo good looking"
and that man's legs were "sooo muscular"; some of the girls were even more 
graphic, particularly Angela as she described in detail the hard-on her
boyfriend had when she was dancing with him. I felt embarrassed as I listened
in on all this, a male eavesdropping on a "for ladies only" discussion, but
not even Maria, Patricia or Angela seemed to care that I was present.

Maria, quite tipsy from several glasses of wine, broke out laughing when
Angela described how she could feel her boyfriend's penis throb as he held her 
close to him during the slow dances.

"Rebecca," Maria asked loudly between fits of giggles, "did you feel Antonio's 
penis while you two were dancing? I saw how close he held you!" She started 
laughing uncontrollably again.

Having just finished serving coffee, I was standing in the middle of the room,
with young ladies seated all around me. I blushed bright red in embarrassment.
Maria, I thought to myself, why did you have to bring me into this
conversation? Everything had been going so smoothly; the evening was almost
over.

"What," Angela exclaimed in feigned amazement, "Rebecca was dancing with 
Antonio?"

"Not only that, Angela," Maria added, "Antonio gave Rebecca a big smoochie 
kiss. It was so neat!"

"Well, I'll be," Angela said, talking like a mother would to a daughter caught 
in the act of something naughty. "Did you know, girls," she continued,
addressing all present, "that our pretty maid, Rebecca, just happens to have a  
little penis of her own, well hidden beneath her pink panties, that is."           

"No way," said Josie, while the other guests looked at Angela like she had had
a little to much wine.

"It's true!  Tell them, Rebecca, don't you have a penis. Tell them the truth, 
Rebecca."

Utterly humiliated, I looked towards Maria hoping she would help me out of
this mess, but she was still giggling.

"Yes, I suppose so," I quietly replied, casting my eyes down towards the
floor.

All the girls started laughing; Donna walked over to me and looked closely at
my face, ran her finger along my cheek, and announced "Yes, I feel a bit of
whiskers; it must be true, Rebecca's not a woman!"               

"Of course it's true," Angela announced with certitude. "Rebecca, lift up your 
skirt and show us your panties."   

"No, Angela,I can't do that," I pleaded.           

"Do it, Rebecca. Do it now! OR ELSE!"

I knew what was implied in Angela's command. If I didn't do whatever she said,
who knows what could happen. Hell, if the men found out what the girls now
knew, I would be beaten, for sure. I hesitated for a moment, and Angela again
commanded me to raise my skirt.

"Yes, ma'am," I said with an air of resignation. Gently grasping the hems of
both my skirt and my slip between my fingers, I raised both to the level of my
breasts. My pink panties were fully visible to all; luckily they were made of
such tight spandex material that they effectively hid my manhood. The girls
all laughed about it; one commented "My, those are the prettiest panties I've
ever seen on a boy", and another said, "Oh, look at his legs! So smooth and
sexy!". Josie said, "MY husband would NEVER wear panties, thank god!". 

As I stood there showing off my panties like a naughty five year old girl,
Angela walked over to me, crouched down in front of me as if she were closely
inspecting my panties, and announced to all, "Look, girls! There is something 
in there, and it's definitely not a vagina! " Pointing at my crotch, she 
added, "though it's not very big, either. Let's just call it an itsy bitsy 
penis. Or, better yet, let's call it a shenis!  Rebecca doesn't have a penis,
she has a shenis!"  

"Angela," Maria broke in, "don't tease Rebecca!" 

Then Donna, the only anglo girl present, came up and knelt down beside Angela.

"Well," she said, as she also inspected my panties in feigned seriousness, "I 
don't like the idea of white boys dressing up like maids. I mean, like what 
are all you Mexican girls going to think of us anglos, if our men go around
wearing frilly dresses and high heels! Now Rebecca, tell me the truth, are you
a girl or not?"                                                                                 

"Yes, ma'am..., I mean, no..", I replied, flustered by the pressure.

"Yes you are a girl, and no you are not a girl? Well than, what are you,"
Donna continued her interrogation.

"I'm not a girl. I'm not a girl!" I protested.

"Well, Rebecca, if you're not a girl, then why are you wearing pink panties? 
White boys are not supposed to go around wearing pink panties, are they,
Rebecca?  Nor, for that matter, high heels, dresses, and makeup."

"No, ma'am," I replied to Donna.

"Well," Josie interrupted, "Mexican boys don't go around in dresses! In the 
barrio, boys are macho, not sissies!"  New mother Josie clearly didn't like 
the idea of a man trying to cross over into a woman's role.          

"OK, everyone," Angela entered the discussion again, "let's settle this once 
and for all. The only way we can decide this is to have Rebecca lower her
panties. Does everybody agree?"               

"No," Maria said, "Leave Rebecca alone. She's a very nice person. She was only 
trying to help me out with this party."      

"Yes! Yes! Make Rebecca show us her vagina, or whatever is there under her 
pink panties," Josie shouted.

Donna, who together with Angela appeared to be the leaders in the room, said
"I agree with Josie. After all, Rebecca was dancing with a guy and kissing a 
guy, just like a real girl. So, we must see if she's a girl, don't you think,
Angela?"       

"No," I said emphatically, cutting into the girls' discussion, "No, I won't do 
it! I've told you what I am, now please let me be!"            

"Rebecca," Angela said sternly, "you must do as I say, or else! Don't you 
understand that?  None of us girls will hurt you, I promise. Just pull your
panties down for a moment, that's all, and then we'll let you be. It's no big 
deal; whatever you have, whether it's a vagina or a penis, it can't be
something that we haven't seen before."             

"Josie," Angela continued, "come over here and hold one side of Rebecca's 
skirt up, and I'll hold the other side up, so that Rebecca's hands are free to
pull her panties down."     

"Angela, please...," I pleaded, to no avail. Josie stood to the left of me
holding my hem, still at breast level, and Angela did the same on my right
side. There I stood in my high heels, with two girls holding my skirt up, and
Donna still kneeling only a couple of feet in front of me. Patricia was
sitting at the table, looking pensive; she had not been laughing and
encouraging the others. She appeared to feel sorry for me. Maria, having
failed in her attempt to protect me, was standing a few feet away, watching
the proceedings and smiling. Maria didn't think it any big deal that I would 
do such a thing. Suzy sat coyly on the couch, watching in amusement. The other
three young hispanic girls present were all laughing and having a good time.

I decided that I had better do what Angela wanted so as to get this over with.
After all, the guys could return any minute and catch me like this.

I blushed as I lowered my hands to grasp the tops of my panties and pantyhose.
A few of the girls were cheering me on, as I slowly pushed the tight pink
panties down. It was difficult to do under such circumstances, but slowly they
went down, down, until they reached the middle of my thighs. I pressed my legs
together out of modesty, but that just made me look more feminine. After
lowering my panties I put my hands up and covered my face.

For several moments I stood like that, my face covered by my girlish hands
with their long painted nails, the skirt of my dress held high, my panties and
pantyhose bunched up around my thighs, my legs shaved smooth, my open-toed
high heels revealing my painted toenails. And between my waist and my lowered
panties I was naked, naked in front of nine pretty young ladies. My maleness,
due to my nerves being stressed and also because of the squeezing effect of
the tight panties, had shrunk to near nothing.

Josie was the first to speak. "Well that isn't a vagina, so Rebecca can't be a 
girl, no matter how much she wants to be one!"                                  

"True, girls, that's not a vagina. But is it a real penis? I mean, it looks so 
small. My boyfriend's is much larger than that thing is," Angela announced
matter-of-factly.

Josie quickly added, "My husband's penis is also much bigger than Rebecca's."

Maria, taking my side, said, "Come on, you all, Rebecca's penis is actually 
rather cute."                               

"Oh. Does that mean that Tony's penis is the same size as Rebecca's," Angela
asked Maria.

"Oh, no," Maria giggled, "Tony's is a lot bigger than Rebecca's. I know, cause 
I've held it in my hands. But Tony is a big man. It's not fair to compare him
with Rebecca, is it?"         

But apparently comparing was OK, because each girl, in turn, announced that
her boyfriend's penis was larger than mine; understandably such talk did not 
cause any swelling; if anything, the humiliation caused it to shrink more.

"Well," I heard Donna say, "I surely don't want to touch that thing, but we 
really must check it out a little further, for scientific reasons, that is." 
Worried over what she planned, I lowered my hands from my face, whereupon
Josie and Angela forced me to once again hold my skirt up, so that they could
join Donna and Angela in front of me.

Donna opened her purse and searched through it for a moment, then removed a
tampon, still wrapped in paper. Carefully she removed the tampon applicator
from its wrapping, and held it in front of my groin.

"Girls," she announced, "Rebecca probably doesn't need this tampon, since the 
poor girl is missing something that us real girls have. But let's use it to 
inspect her so-called penis.  OK, Rebecca, now spread your legs apart, girl."

I did as Donna ordered. What else could I do? I was trapped. I slowly spread
them apart to the point where my high heels, which had been touching each
other, were about two feet apart. Naturally, this allowed my penis and scrotum
to hang freely, in full view of all.

Donna continued speaking to her girlfriends as if she were a college professor
doing a class demonstration. Using the tampon applicator as a rod, she gently
lifted my limp penis to the point where it was extended straight out. "Notice, 
girls, the size of Rebecca's so-called manhood. I'd say it's at most an inch 
long.  What do you estimate, Angela?"                                            

"Oh, Rebecca! What a tiny penis you have," laughed Angela. "No wonder you 
prefer to go around in girl's clothes. I can see why you would be ashamed of 
that little itsy weentsy thing. Yes, I agree with Donna, one inch is the
length of Rebecca's penis."             

"My husband's is at least eight inches long. That's why he doesn't wear 
dresses and panties," Josie added, always eager to brag about her husband.          

"Rebecca's penis is so small it could never satisfy a real girl," another girl 
said.  Like a fool I continued to stand in their midst. At this point I
couldn't get hard for the world, as I was far to embarrassed and afraid to be 
sexually excited.

There was a bright flash, followed by several more. With despair I realized
Angela had taken more photographs.

"Well, girls, I believe we have proven that Rebecca is not a 100% real girl,"
Donna continued with her lecture. "But then, on the other hand, we must also 
admit, given her smooth hairless body, her sexy girl's clothes, her makeup, 
and of course her so-called penis not much larger than a girl's clitoris, that 
Rebecca is not really a man, either."   Most of the girls were laughing and 
giggling as they listened to Donna.

"So, ladies, what do you all think: should we allow Rebecca to continue to 
wear dresses and high heels, or should we force her to wear boy's clothes? 
Angela, you get the first vote."

"I vote we allow her to wear dresses. She does look good in dresses,"
responded Angela without hesitation.

"OK," Donna said, "one vote to keep Rebecca in dresses. Suzy, how do you 
vote?"

"Oh, definitely dresses. And high heels all the time," Suzy exclaimed.

Next was Josie. "Well, I don't think Rebecca should be allowed to wear 
dresses. If she wants to go to a doctor and get that little thing cut off (she
pointed to my penis, which Donna was still holding with the tampon
applicator), then she can wear dresses. I say make her wear bras, panties, and
pantyhose, but no dresses."

Patricia, when her turn came, blushed and shyly said, "I think Rebecca looks 
nice in a dress." And so it went, with every girl voting to keep me in a dress 
except for Josie. Finally, it was the Maria's turn. All the other girls had 
voted.

"OK, Maria," Donna said, "what do you say? Do we put some pants on Rebecca and 
send her out to shoot pool with the guys, or leave her in dresses and accept
her as just `one of us girls'."

Thus far I hadn't been able to look at the women as they voted on my gender, 
preferring instead to keep my eyes cast down submissively. But when Maria's 
turn came, I couldn't help it; my eyes turned towards her. I still wanted her, 
as a man wants a woman. Surely she knew I was a regular man, as it was she who
had managed to somehow transform me into what I was now. If she would just say
that I was a man, a real man, and not a girl or sissy, then I would be OK.
Then the other girls would also look at me as a man; and more importantly, I
would view myself again as a real man. And there would still be a chance for
Maria and I, together. Yes, I thought to myself, if Maria acknowledges my
manhood, then at the end of this evening I would return home knowing that at
least one beautiful girl did respect me as a true man.

Hopefully, I looked into her beautiful eyes. She looked up at me as I stood
there, holding my skirt high while Donna, using the tampon applicator,
continued to hold up my deflated manhood. I guess the sight was so unusual
that she started giggling again.

"Well," she said when finally she got control of her giggling, "except for 
that little penis thing, I'd say Rebecca is a perfect girl. And she's been the
best maid ever!  I'm very proud of Rebecca, as a girl, that is."                 

"Besides, if we put a pair of jeans on Rebecca and send her off to join the 
men, who knows what could happen? We already saw Antonio put the make on
Rebecca. What if the other guys do the same?"  Turning to Josie, Maria 
continued, "Do you really want Rebecca going off with our men to shoot pool 
and to drink?  Wouldn't it be safer to have her here, with the rest of us 
girls, instead of out tempting our men with her feminine charms?"           

"I think Rebecca is a wonderful girl, so she should definitely be allowed to 
wear dresses. And not just maids' uniforms, either. Anytime Rebecca wants to 
borrow my clothes, it's OK with me."

"OK!," Donna announced to all, "then it's decided. Rebecca is officially a 
female. From this point on we will accept her as one of us. Congratulations,
Rebecca! Believe me, you'll be happier as a girl. Now pull up your panties and 
cover up your little mistake of nature; maybe some day you can get it removed.
Wouldn't that be nice, girls?"

They all expressed agreement as Donna finally allowed my penis hang freely.
With the strange ceremony over, the girls started talking amongst themselves,
although most continued to watch me as I struggled to pull up and straighten
my panties and pantyhose. I was blushing, heartbroken that Maria had not
acknowledged my manhood, but also, strangely content in the knowledge that the
girls had accepted me as one of them. At least I fit in, albeit as a girl
rather than a man.

At last I got everything back in place, including my skirt and apron. Then the
girls, one by one, came up to me and individually congratulated me. Maria
kissed my cheek and hugged me. "Maybe we can go shopping next weekend to get 
you some pretty lingerie of your own," she said, "but in the meantime, feel
free to use mine!"          

Donna also kissed my cheek, saying, "Rebecca, you've gone from being a plain 
vanilla white boy to being a pretty senorita. You are definitely a disgrace to
the male sex, but you are a very nice addition to our fairer sex. Welcome to
womanhood, Rebecca!"

"From now on I'll accept you as a neighborhood girl, Rebecca, but don't come 
over and try to borrow my clothes.  You'll have to buy your own," warned 
Angela.

Josie also welcomed me into girlhood, saying, "Rebecca, I'm sorry I voted to 
make you wear pants. It was just that I didn't want a man invading our girls'
group. But I was wrong: you're not really a man. Not a real man, anyhow. I 
tell you what: I'll let you babysit for us next weekend, if you promise not to 
flirt with my husband!"

Even Patricia acknowledged my new status. "Rebecca," she said, holding my hand
gently, "you are a nice girl. If you should need help with any girl things, 
like sewing, I can help you. And by the way, you'll need to buy a new dress to 
wear to my wedding!"                        

In turn, I warmly thanked each of the young ladies. I suppose they presumed I
was grateful to be accepted as a girl, and in a way they were right. Removed
from the stress of masquerading as a woman, I felt much more at ease. Now at
least I didn't have to masquerade; all the girls knew of me, and accepted me. 
I wasn't a man wearing womans clothing; I was a girl. My girlfriends knew of 
my little anatomical problem, but they still accepted me as one of them.

Soon thereafter the guys returned and the party broke up. I continued with my
work as maid, picking up things, making sure the guests had everything before
leaving, and opening the door for them as they left. I even carried Josie's 
baby and diaper bag to the car for her, after changing the baby's soiled 
diaper one more time.  As they had promised, my new girlfriends did not let on
to the men that I had a "little problem", so they continued to treat me like a
young maid, which is, anyway, what I now was.

As he left, Antonio pulled me towards him and gave me another kiss. This time
I didn't mind. After all, I was a girl now, and girls must at times submit to 
men. It's all just part of nature's design.

Finally, all the guests were gone and this most eventful party was over. Maria
kissed me again on the cheek.

"Oh, thank you, Rebecca! You've been so nice tonight. Here," she said, handing 
me the small white purse, "I've put your keys and wallet into your purse. You 
won't need your boy clothes.  Remember, now you are one of us!"

"Thank you, Maria," I told her sincerely.  "Thank you for being my friend. 
Thank you for accepting me like this."  Overwhelmed by my feelings, I started 
to cry.

Instead of going directly to my apartment, I went outside and took a slow walk
through the neighborhood. The sky was clear and a billion stars were shining.
As I walked my body swayed in a feminine fashion.  I was thinking things and
feeling things I had never before experienced. I felt swallowed by a mystic
peace such as I had never known. My life had suddenly, irrevocably changed. No
matter what clothes I would wear tomorrow, I would never be the same; part of
me was now, and always would be, female.

                           The End Is The Beginning