3. THE REALITIES SET IN
 

If I had known then what was to happen, I'd have rushed out of the store door, but in hindsight it was now locked and I'd have got nowhere fast had I decided to make a run for it. So all I could do was follow Miss Fotheringale into a change room and progressively get fitted with a control brief, padded panties and a lacy pink training bra after I had stripped down to my underpants.. My humiliation went from bad to worse, but all I could keep thinking of was the five pounds that I would get for putting up with all this. One other point of salvation was that the shop was closed, so there was only mum, me and Miss Fotheringale along with the junior saleslady who had let me in. If there had been other ladies coming into and out of the store that would have seen me, I think I would have died of embarrassment.  Mum had Tina's measurements recorded and as I progressively was fitted with the padded bra, briefs and padded panties, both she and Miss Fotheringale let out more sounds of excitement as they measured me up and found I was getting closer and closer to Tina's 'vital statistics'.

However, although my chest was a 32B just like Tina's, courtesy of a bit of help from some booster pads inserted under my training bra and my hips were now 34's just like hers thanks to the padded panties, I had a problem with my waist which still wasn't as slim as hers. What to do? The ladies thought for a while and then decided the only thing was for me to wear an old-fashioned high-waist girdle, in order to get that final three inches from my waist.

I was soon to find out just how tight one of those girdles can be. Although Miss Fotheringale's salon was basically there to stock frocks and accessories, she also had a small corsetry and hosiery department. She went searching into the corsetry area and soon came back with a heavyweight item with boning which I would have to step into, with hooks and eyes plus a long zipper than had to be fastened. 'Timmy, You're lucky that I've got just one of these in a small size, because usually they're for larger sized, more mature ladies who've put on a bit of weight and need some firm control.' All the time the ladies were fixing the girdle onto me, I was told to keep breathing in. There were all those small hooks and eyes that had to be connected before it could finally be zipped up via that long zipper on the left side I then found I could hardly breathe out again because it was so tight. I soon realised this was one really mean and uncomfortable item of feminine underwear! Miss Fotheringale measured my waist and finally she and mum were happy as the tape measure now read the magic figure of 24 inches. So, I at last had exactly the same measurements for my chest, waist and hips as my twin sister Tina!

4. FINALLY, TIME TO BE FROCKED

Now that I actually met Tina's measurements, it was time to try on the dark red party frock that mum admired so much. It was really a very pretty garment, and if I hadn't been in so much discomfort from that tight girdle I might have secretly enjoyed the experience of wearing it more than I did. It actually wasn't that difficult to get into, just stepping into it and having Mum fasten it up at the back.

Thanks to all the various female undergarments I was now wearing, everything fitted perfectly. The last thing was to put on some lacy white petticoats to get the correct effect on the frock's hemline. My 'chest' jutted out in front, my now narrow waist fitted the confines of the frock, and my hips widened out just right for the cut of the frock. Mum and Miss Fotheringale 'oohed' and 'aahed' about how perfect I looked!

Of course, it wouldn't have been all over without me having to walk up and down, sashaying around to show how well the frock fitted me. That was when the two of them decided I really needed to wear some nylons and a pair of heeled shoes, because that was what Tina would need for the party, and also they were worried that the girdle would begin to ride up around my hips if I did not wear nylons with it.

Unfortunately the nylons proved to a bit of a problem because my feet and legs were apparently an unusual size combination, and the only ones that were the right size were 15 denier Kayser brand 'fully fashioned' ones in dark tan. I think I could have managed to put on a pair of seam-free stockings on my own, but it proved beyond me to get those seamed stockings on correctly. It didn't help either that the girdle I was wearing was so tight and firm, making it difficult to lean over to put the nylons on over my feet. So Mum came to my rescue, and slid one stocking on over each of my feet. I then had to stand up, lifting up my lacy petticoats while Mum pulled the stockings up my legs and Miss Fotheringale made sure the back seams were perfectly straight before they attached the suspenders to the tops of the stockings. The girdle had three suspenders for each leg, so there were six of them to do up in all. Without Mum I don't think I could have managed to get them with the seams even remotely straight, and I wondered just how mature ladies in similar tight girdles got on with putting their nylons on every day.

I guess that it was all a matter of experience, getting things just right. Now that I had the stockings on and the back seams passed inspection, it was a matter of finding a pair of black court shoes with low heels, seeing I was a novice at walking in ladies' shoes. Miss Fotheringale rescued a pair with shiny steel bows on the front from a mannequin model which fitted me perfectly, but although the heels were barely two inches high, I had the devil of a job getting used to walking in them. The problem was that because of the effect of the lacy petticoats pushing the hem of the frock outwards, I couldn't actually see my feet so I was kind of 'walking blind' in them. One other problem was that they felt tight around the front, but the ladies told me that was the way women's shoes were meant to fit when worn with nylons. If they weren't a tight fit, there was a good chance the shoe could fall off at some awkward moment and cause some disaster like laddering those expensive and delicate nylon stockings. The salon had a small sort of 'catwalk' which I had to walk up and down several times with both mum and Miss Fotheringale