This is a true story of how my Mom feminized me as a teenager. She had caught me wearing her pantyhose the summer before seventh grade. I got the surprise of my life the first Sunday of junior high, when she started encouraging me to wear them, and then it was all downhill from there. – Tracy

The dream always starts out the same way.

This is a true story. It doesn't matter if you believe me.

When I was small I met an angel.

I was standing in a field with tall grass, sunflowers and dandelions. I don’t know how I got there, and didn’t care. The sun warmed my chubby arms, and a gentle breeze blew the grass so that it tickled under my dress.

There’s another thing that was strange but wasn’t; I was wearing a dress - canary yellow, with thin straps over the shoulder. Not the kind of thing I could wear at home; not the kind of thing I was allowed.

“Tammy?” Becky looks at the text message she just received from Stanley.

She couldn’t believe that Kat and the rest of the team were on their way to their location. All the message said, was that a pissed off Kat was on her way to them. When she responded about the rest of Kat’s team. She was informed they were heading to Walker, Kansas to stay with Kat’s sister.

“Tammy, where are you?’ Becky couldn’t find Tammy anywhere and the next thing she hears is the sound of a gun.

“Guys, Tammy is under attack.” Becky heads towards the sound of the gunshot.

What do you do when you look 7 years old, but you're actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen's entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn't the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her how she looks, 7 years old?

Part Five

Vic's manager at the local office the Bureau of Special Resources maintained in Detroit was Bruno Drake. Though their office was tiny, in both physical size and number of personnel assigned to it, Drake took his job very seriously. He was a grizzled man in his late fifties, with short, grey hair and a conservative manner. This included his way of dressing; he was very fond of bowties, for example. Vic found that as a manager he was a good boss who cared about and for those under him.