by Deborah Madigan
copyright 1998 A Halloween Surprise
It was 2 p.m., the afternoon of Halloween, and I'd never been more angry in my life. I was standing at the pickup counter of the Cleveland Costume Co. and the clerk had just told me that my expensive, custom made costume had been rented to someone else!
"I don't believe this! How could you rent it out? That was MY costume. I paid for it! What am I supposed to do now? I have a party to go to tonight!" I shouted at the hapless clerk.
"Calm down, Marty," my wife, Carol, said soothingly. "We'll find something else."
"You've GOT to be kidding, Carol. There aren't any costumes worth renting left," I moaned.
I was just devastated. 'I Dream of Jeannie' was the number one television show that season and I'd paid a small fortune to have Barbara Eden's diaphanous costume duplicated in time for our TV group's Halloween event. Carol had rented a tuxedo, along with a man's wig and mustache, and we planned to go as a magician and his Genie. Now, the whole thing was just ruined.
"You're right, Marty," she said. "It's too late to rent anything. We'll just have to go home and make do. Besides, Amy should be there when we get back. Maybe she will have an idea."
The shop's manager had gone home for the day, and there was nothing else to be done. I was still grumbling as we got into Carol's yellow Ford Thunderbird convertible. My grumbling continued as we drove through the afternoon traffic toward our apartment in Mayfield Heights, on Cleveland's southeast side. Finally, Carol had had enough.
"Knock it off, Marty," she ordered. "You remind me of a 3 year old whose birthday party has been rained out..." Her voice trailed off. I could tell by the mischievous expression on her face that she had come up with an idea.
"That's it... if Amy helps, there's still time," she said softly to herself. "Marty - let's stop by the Wig Shoppe. You know that long blond one you've had your eye on? We're going to buy it."
"How come?" I said, puzzled. "You've convinced me that the color is wrong, that I look silly when I wear bangs, and that it's too long for me. Why the sudden change? Besides, what does a new wig have to do with tonight's disaster?"
"You'll see," she grinned. "Besides, you need something to cheer you up. I was going to get it for you for your birthday anyway."
I was feeling better as we pulled into our apartment complex's enormous parking lot. There was even a clear space next to my Jeep Commando, which occupied it's assigned space 4 floors below our apartment. Even though I wouldn't be able to go to the party, which was strictly costume only, a new hairpiece was always a major event in my life. I heard the rumble of Amy's supercharged Pontiac Firebird as she roared into the lot.
"Hey! Roy's here," I exclaimed. I had grown up a very lonely kid, as many TVs do, and the idea of having a best friend who not only crossdressed, but drove one of the fastest cars in Cleveland still amazed me.
"He certainly is," Carol observed. "I could hear that car all the way out on Route 322!"
Amy, in his male identity of Roy, pulled up behind us and started unloading her stuff. How she managed to fit a hanging clothes bag, two wig boxes, and two enormous suitcases into her Firebird's tiny trunk was beyond me.
"Hi, Marty! Don't look so puzzled. This is only two day's worth. You should see what I take for a whole week," she grinned.
Amy / Roy was one of those rare TVs who look equally ravishing as a either guy or gal. His long, slender face with it's round blue eyes looked equally at home covered with soot, from his job as a welder, or with Max Factor's finest make-up. Between my new wig's box, and all Amy's paraphernalia, we barely squeezed into the elevator.
Bob and Larry, the two gay guys who lived across the hall from us, were just going out and smiled as we carried our stuff in. They couldn't quite figure out how a straight 22 year old crossdresser and his wife fitted into their world, but we all got along fine anyway. Larry flew for one of the airlines and kept us in Coors beer, personally imported fresh from the West Coast. Bob was a television news cameraman, who's promise of a film editing job for me hadn't quite worked out yet.
"Dee," Carol said to me as we closed the door, "why don't you take a bubble bath and lie down for a while. Roy and I have things to do."
"We do? Sounds mysterious," Amy replied.
"What's going on here, anyway. I don't need to lie down. I'll have all evening for that. What are you two up to, Carol?"
"Never mind, Dee! Amy and I will take care of things. You're going to the party with us, and you need some rest. Now, go lie down like a good girl. We'll be back in a while."
"OK, Hon," I said, and went into the bedroom. Carol rarely bossed me around, so I knew that whatever was going on, she was serious. I WAS tired, and I heard Amy and Carol talking, then the front door closing as I drifted off to sleep.........
"Dee... Hey, Dee! Wake up," said Amy, as she shook my shoulder.
"OK, already," I muttered. Reaching over, I turned on the bedside lamp. "WOW," I exclaimed, "You look great!
Amy was wearing a perfect replica of a French Can-Can Girl's costume. The rose colored dress, with it's scads of ruffles and voluminous petticoats, ended about 3" above his knees, making the yellow, red, and white layers of petticoats all the more obvious. His skirt stood out so far that I could even see his rose colored ruffled panties.
"That's the frilliest outfit that I have ever seen, Amy. It's really great," I enthused. Amy reached down, jerked off the bedcovers, grabbed my hand, and yanked me to my feet. I was wearing my pink and white Baby Doll pajamas, but we had long since become comfortable seeing each other in various stages of male/female undress, as would real sisters. For that matter, so had Carol.
"Gee, I wish I had something that frilly," I said, longingly.
You know the old saying," he replied. "Be careful what you wish for, because you might get it. Come on out, Sis."
I walked into the living room and Carol stepped aside, giving me a kiss on the cheek as I spotted the beautiful soft yellow dress spread out on our black leather couch. It was gorgeous! The dress itself was sleeveless white taffeta, with a lace edged Peter Pan collar. But it was so short, that it looked to be barely fingertip length. Over the dress was a second layer of yellow dotted Swiss, with a low round neck and enormous puffed short sleeves, edged with white lace. Around it's high waist was a bright yellow satin sash, obviously meant to be tied in back with a large bow.
I turned to Carol and hugged her as tight as I could, lifting her off her feet. Amy chuckled at the sight of the six foot tall guy wearing pink Baby Doll pjs lifting the five foot four inch gal wearing a brown tweed sport coat, black trousers, and grey beard clear off the floor.
"Put me down, silly," Carol said. "You're going to mess up my beard! I take it you approve of my choice?"
"Approve, it's terrific! But, where did you get it?" I asked. "Everything is closed this late."
"Remember how you groused at hauling all my stuff to our rented storage locker, when my parents sold their house?" she asked. "Well, this was my little girl costume from my high school senior play, "Portrait of Joan". Remember, the one I told you about, where I played a dying old woman looking back at her life? I'm chubby enough, and you're skinny enough, that it should fit you perfectly. Boy, is it ever going to be short on you, though," she chuckled. "But Amy came up with the answer to that."
Carol and I first met while we were both crewing a play at Kent State University's Drama Department. I was a theater major and she was an English major with a natural love of stagecraft. We'd both been in numerous plays through the years, but I'd forgotten her telling me about that one.
"Let me get out of these Baby Dolls and try it on," I said, turning for the bedroom.
"Hold on there, Kid," Amy called, grinning. "You're gonna need these, too." She tossed me a couple of large grocery bags.
"What are they?" The tops of the bags were stapled shut.
"You'll find out! Call us if you need any help..."
"Fat chance of that! I quit having mommy dress me when I was 4 years old." Both Carol and Amy were grinning as I closed the door behind me.
I stripped off the pjs and tossed them into the hamper. Carol was a stickler for 'wear it once and then wash it'. I stood there, holding that beautiful dress, then I laid it carefully on the bed. I ripped open the first bag and found it stuffed with two white crinolines, with 'St. John's Parish Resale Shop' tags on them. One at a time, I slipped the rustling crinolines up my smooth shaven legs, over my white panties, and settled them into place around my waist. It had been years since I had tried on a crinoline and I loved the tickle of their yards and yards of white nylon net brushing my bare legs.
Next, I reached for the dress, slid down its long back zipper and pulled it over my head, sliding my arms into the short puffy sleeves. Their elastic bands snugly embraced my arms, making the ruffles stand out. I tried to twist around to pull up the zipper, but was unable to reach it. I hadn't the slightest idea how to tie the sash behind my back and guessed that I was going to need help, after all. Still, I couldn't resist looking at myself in the full length mirror installed on the bathroom door. This outfit definitely had possibilities, but it was so short!
"Carol," I called. "Could you give me a hand with the zipper and bow? I can't reach them myself. I don't know if this is going to work, though. It's too short."
Carol came into the bedroom, followed by Amy.
"Here's some shoes and socks to go with the dress," Amy said. "I got them from Cissy." Cissy was an acquaintance of hers whose prime activity upon arriving home from his job as a police officer was to dress and act as a toddler girl.
"Those shoes are sure cute," Carol said, "and the socks are simply adorable." The shoes were a glistening black and the ankle socks were a lovely light yellow, with white lace ruffles at the top.
I slipped the socks on, turned down their ruffled tops, and then fastened the Mary Jane's patent leather straps snugly. "You'll have to thank Cissy for me," I said. Roy was one of the very few people who had witnessed Cissy's off duty activities. I had never met Cissy, myself.
I twirled around and Carol zipped up the dress and tied the large bow. Everything fit perfectly! I walked over to the mirror. Everything was just right, except the dress length. It was just plain too short.
"Amy, do you think I can get away with this? I just love the dress, but its so short! Annee will just have a fit." Annee was the president of our group, and about as straight laced as a TV can get.
Carol said, "We told you to open both bags. The shoes aren't the only things Amy picked up from Cissy."
I picked up the second bag and ripped it open. Out spilled a giant pair of clear plastic baby panties, two enormous pink diaper pins, and a thick diaper printed with multicolor bunnies hopping around. For a moment, just stood there, speechless.
"You've GOT to be kidding! I can't... I won't... NO WAY!" I shouted.
"Calm down. Dee," Carol said. "You like the dress, Right?"
"Yeah, it's super. But"
Amy cut me off. "The only butt involved is that one of yours that's hanging out in the air," she said. "You know darn well what Annee and the rest will say if you show up wearing that dress as it is. But, with the baby pants you'll have the cutest outfit of anyone. Furthermore, half of the other girls will be jealous and you know it."
Hmmmmm... I thought. Maybe she's right. For the entire nine months that we'd been members of the club, I'd envied the polished presentations and beautiful dresses of the other, older TVs. It would be fun to have the shoe on the other foot, so to speak.
"Kitten, what do you think? " I asked, turning to Carol.
"I think that this is going to be a party that they will talk about for years. If you don't get that diaper on, you're going to miss it. If you don't go, you know that you will regret it for the rest of your life. Now quit complaining and lie down so I can get you fixed up. We have to leave in a few minutes."
"OK, you're right. We'll really give them something to gossip about," I said. "Amy, how about waiting in the living room, OK?"
She grinned. "You'll knock 'em dead, Dee. I'll finish your wig." And she walked out, closing the door.
I lay down on the bed, slipping my panties off as I did so. Carol slid the diaper under me and I had to spread my legs as she pulled it up the front, giving me a little tweak in a sensitive spot as she did so. She pinned the soft, thick diaper in place with the two giant pink headed diaper pins. It's nine layers of birdseye material, topped off with the final flannel print layer, forced my legs so far apart that I wondered how I would ever be able to walk. Finally, Carol pulled the clear baby panties over the diaper, settling the elastic well up on my legs and tucking the waistband snugly back under the diaper.
"There," she said. "Standup and take a look."
I waddled up to the mirror. No wonder they call them toddlers, I thought. With that much material around my bottom, there was no other way that I could walk. Before me in the mirror stood a giant three year old. But I looked like a boy being punished in his baby sister's clothes, strangely intriguing but not at all the image that I wanted to present at the party. Then Amy walked in, carrying my new wig.
"Oh, Amy! That's just perfect - exactly what I need," I exclaimed with relief. She had brushed out the long honey blond human hair and set it with pert pigtails in the back. I took it from her and snuggled it gently into place. Perfect! The bangs just touched my eyebrows, brushing against the top of my feminine pair of glasses, and the pigtails rested gently on my shoulders. For once in my life, I was speechless. The image in the mirror was me, sent back nineteen years in time.
"Honey," Carol said softly, putting her arms around me, "When we have our first little girl, I'm sure she's going to look just like you do right now." She couldn't possibly have said anything nicer, and for a moment tears came to my eyes.
"You know, Marty, if there were another one like Carol, I wouldn't be a bachelor," Amy said. "Now, Kids, lets get this show on the road!"
Roy and I, both in multiple bouffant petticoats, took up virtually the whole elevator car as we rode down to the parking lot. Carol, scrunched into the corner of the car, said that she had never felt so smothered in femininity. The sun had set and the huge parking lot was a glow of yellow sodium vapor illumination that turned my blue princess cut coat black as we proceeded to Carol's Thunderbird.
The moment I tried to fit into the back seat, it became apparent that we would have to make other transportation arrangements. It was obvious that my petticoats just wouldn't fit into the tight confines of the T-Bird's rear seat. I glanced at Amy and saw that her costume would be ruined also. The seating in her Pontiac Firebird was even more confining. We would have to take my Jeep, not the most feminine car in the world, even with it's red and white candy striped interior. Also, it was almost out of gas. Oh, well, I thought, this is going to be a very interesting ride.
I started toward the driver's door and had just grasped it's handle when Carol said, "DiDi, little girls ride in the back seat, you know. Amy, make sure her seat belt is fastened properly."
"Wait just a minute, Carol," I said. "What's with this DiDi bit?"
"You look like a 3 year old, and that's what you are for the night," she instructed me. "Until we get back home, I'm to be addressed as Dr. Freud and you are my most difficult patient." I found this prospect unexpectedly exciting resolved to examine my feelings later.
Amy started laughing, Carol was grinning, and I just had to join in. "OK. Doc," I said, as I climbed into the back seat, "But you've got to promise me a couch session when we get back home!" I replied as Amy fluffed my dress and then fastened the seat belt snugly around my hips.
Carol wasn't too familiar with the Jeep's four on the floor shift and I had to coach her as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed off toward the Interstate 271 Expressway's southbound entrance ramp. The party was to be at Trish and Judy's farm, located in Twinsburg, Ohio, a good 20 miles south of us. Carol and I had never been there, but Amy had and we expected no trouble on the way. First we had to get gas, so Carol pulled into the new Shell station at the intersection of 4 lane US-322 and the expressway, then got out and tried to start the pump. It was one of the new electronic kind that had to be paid for first inside.
When she came back out, two of the attendant's friends followed her. There was something ominous about their slow, steady approach and their grins held no humor. As they approached, Amy got out of the car and the sight of this 6'2" girl, wearing 4" heels, dressed in a can-can outfit, stopped them dead in their tracks. "Can I help you boys?" Amy said in her best woman's voice.
"Uh, I guess not," one of them said. "I guess you're going to a Halloween party, hunh."
"That's right. I've already got the windshield," Amy said, picking up the long metal handled squeegee. "We're all set here. You boys can go back inside now." They continued toward us and Amy raised the squeegee. It would make a heck of a weapon, if she needed one. Carol stood her ground and I unfastened my seat belt, picked up a large adjustable wrench from the Jeep's tool box, and stepped out. For a moment, you could feel the tension in the air, and then both of the boys started giggling.
"That must be... one HELL of a party... you gals are going to," the taller one said. Tears were starting to flow, he was laughing so hard. "I'll pump it for you," he chuckled. "Who are you going as, anyway?"
"I, Sir, am the world's most famous psychiatrist, Dr. Sigmund Freud," Carol said, with a thick German accent. "This is my most difficult patient. He thinks he's a little girl named DiDi."
"DiDi," the other boy choked out. "...... That's a guy?" I curtsied and he started giggling again. "Jerry's right. That must be one hell of a party you're off to. Have a great night!" He screwed down the gas cap and walked back inside, still giggling.
We pulled out onto the interstate and the rest of the ride was uneventful. As we turned onto the narrow two lane macadam road that led toward Trish Judy's home, the full moon shown brightly and the air was cool and crisp; a perfect All Hallows Eve. It wasn't difficult to find the right place. There were at least two dozen cars parked amongst the yellow, red, and orange maple trees surrounding their giant old farm house. As we got out of the Jeep, I started having second thoughts. The feel of the crinolines, shoes, and dress had become both very arousing and yet strangely soothing. I became afraid that the others would discover what I was feeling - that I really wanted to be a toddler girl. Carol, sensing my changing mood, said, "It's too late to back out now, Kid." She took my hand in hers and with a gentle tug started me walking up the driveway, the breeze caressing my legs, my petticoats and plastic baby panties rustling and crinkling under my short skirt. It was too late to back out.
We soon heard popular music, alternating with big band sounds and zany commercials, and I realized that Annee had brought her recording set-up. She'd told me that her favorite pastime, after crossdressing of course, was playing Disk Jockey with her tape recorders and audio mixing equipment. She, or rather her male half, Tom, had produced dozens of hours of recordings and I was glad to hear that she had brought some of her favorites.
My lace anklets provided no protection from the breeze and my bare legs were covered with goosebumps by the time we arrived at the house and slowly climbed the four steps up to it's front door. No wonder little girls catch colds all the time, I thought to myself. They're always half frozen.
Carol stepped past me and rang the doorbell. The time that it took for the bell to be answered seemed like half an hour to me. Frankly, I was scared stiff. Would they like the costume? Had I gone too far with the babypants diapers? Could they tell how much I was enjoying wearing them? Would they throw me out of the group? I've always been a natural worrywart and during the eternal 1/2 minute that we stood there, I thought of at least a dozen bad things that could happen and stepped shyly back behind Amy.
Eventually, the door opened and Anne herself stood there, dressed as Cleopatra from the Elizabeth Taylor movie. Her gold lame gown sparkled in the porch light. It's skirt was so tight that it reminded me of the old fashioned hobble skirts worn at the turn of the century. It was certainly tight enough to show off the 'flat front' so prized by TVs.
"Yes?" she asked in her rich contralto voice. She hadn't even recognized us... was this good or bad?
"We're invited." Carol said in a perfect tenor male voice.
"I think there's been some mistake..." Anne said and her voice trailed off. Then it dawned on her who this short, chubby guy was and she smiled.
"Hi, Anne, It's Amy" Roy added.
"Hey, Gang! Carol and Amy are here. Come on in," she motioned and turned from the door.
"Anne, I'm Doctor Sigmund Freud this evening and I would like to introduce you to one of my most difficult patients. This is DiDi."
I was on! I picked up Carol's obvious cue, stepped to the door, and curtsied deeply, my knee almost touching the step. "Nice to meet you, Mam," I said in the highest, softest voice I could manage without going falsetto. I kept my head down, but glanced up through my bangs at Anne, trying to judge her reaction.
"Ahhh... Ahhh..., " she said. Obviously she was speechless. Then she turned and called to the gathering, "Hey, everybody! Come see Dee!!" It was going to be OK!
Carol reached out her hand and guided me off the porch and into the entrance hall. I needed her help too; my knees were aching from holding the curtsey. Everyone crowded around, admiring my presentation. Everything, dress, makeup, hair, even the babypants worked together. I felt that even Hollywood's top designer couldn't have done a better job. It was great to be the center of attention and I resolved to keep the little girl image intact all night.
It was indeed quite a gathering. Lucy, an aircraft engineer from Wright Paterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio, was wearing my original costume. She looked so cute in it's pink satin and chiffon that I immediately forgave her for renting it and enthusiastically admired her Genie look. Joyce, a restranteaur, had driven her big Ford pick-up camper hundreds of miles down from her home in up state New York for the weekend. She was gorgeous as a Mexican seniorita in a multi-colored skirt that she claimed was 15 yards around it's hem and it looked every inch of it. She had also brought her 14 year old daughter, Cindy, who had known about her Dad's crossdressing for years and considered TVs a natural part of the environment. Cindy looked so cute in her 8th grade cheerleader's outfit. Judy, the male one of our hosts, was simply ravishing in a green and lavender Scarlet O' Hara outfit, complete with a hat that had to be three feet across. But to my eyes, Judy's wife, Trish, stole the show in a perfect reproduction of Julie Andrew's Mary Poppins outfit, complete with a replica of the parasol that the famous actress flew with in her first scene.
More guests arrived and before long, there were over two dozen TVs, about half with their wives or girl friends, dancing to Anne's music, conversing loudly to be heard over the same music, and occupying themselves with that favorite TV pass time, taking photographs of one and all.
One of my favorite photographs was taken that wonderful night. It showed me as a radiant 3 year old, being handed an oversized baby bottle by Mary Poppins. Trish had gotten a calf nursing bottle from their barn. I got quite a surprise when she encouraged me to take a sip from it and I found that she had spiked the milk with Scotch whisky. I remember hoping that she had washed the bottle and nipple first!
As I toddled around chatting with the others, it wasn't long before I felt myself to be a real three year old little girl, allowed to attend her parent's Halloween party for the first time. Annee played 'Peppermint Twist' and another photograph shows Carol in her Sigmund Freud costume holding tightly to my hand, my skirt and crinolines flying straight out totally exposing my diapered bottom as I twisted madly back and forth.
Even the most wonderful evening has to come to the end and all too soon we found ourselves saying our good-byes. As we started down the steps to the drive, my hand again in Carol's, the wind picked up my skirts and once more my legs were covered with goose bumps. This time, however, I cherished the experience, knowing that I would never get any closer to being a real little girl than I was at that moment.
As we got to the Jeep, it became obvious that I was the only one that was sober enough to drive. I hated to again resume adult responsibilities, but someone had to get us home. The moon had set and I felt the increased wind bouncing the Jeep as we exited the freeway and pulled into our apartment's big parking lot. I noticed a large, dark blue Ford sedan parked in the far corner of the lot, it's engine idling, but paid no attention to it. Carol, who rarely drank, had sipped a few too many, so Amy and I were busy trying to figure how to get her upstairs to the apartment.
I pulled into our parking space and between us, Amy and I managed to get Carol out of the car, into the elevator, and up to the apartment. Leaving Amy to make sure that Carol was OK, I went back down to the lobby and then walked ever so slowly over to the car to secure it for the night, wishing that the wonderful evening would never end.
As I reached inside to lock the passenger's door, I heard a squeal of tires and the roar of a powerful motor. Red and blue emergency beacons slashed the night and suddenly, I stood square in the center of a spotlight's beam of brilliant white light. I was being busted! I froze to the spot, like a deer pinned in an oncoming automobile's headlights. What had I done?
"All right, Miss. You got any identification?" a deep, gruff voice called from the police car. "What are you doing here at four in the morning anyway?"
"Ahhh... Ahhh..." I stammered. Suddenly, my self image changed from that of a three year old back to that of a 22 year old male as I realized how I must look to the officer, dressed as a six foot toddler, crinolines and baby panties totally exposed to his view. I felt the blood rushing to my face as I blushed furiously. I reached into my pink child's purse that I had removed from the Jeep, pulled out my male driver's license, and held it out.
As I toddled slowly toward the police car, the wind again fluffed up my dress and totally exposed my diapered bottom. A deep chuckle rose from the car's darkened interior as I tried unsuccessfully to hold my skirts and crinolines down with one hand.
"You are Marty, right? " the officer asked. I wondered how he knew who I was when I hadn't even given him my license yet. I stopped and slowly nodded.
"Don't worry, " he said, still chuckling. "I can tell that you had a wonderful time. Let Amy know that I said that you can keep the shoes and diapers. I could tell by your expression as you walked out to your car that they effect both of us the same way."
I stood, stunned, as the patrol car's emergency lights went out, the spotlight snapped off, and it's tires squealed again as it shot out of the parking lot. I turned and walked slowly to the elevator to claim my couch session, realizing that I had just met Cissy and still hadn't a clue as to who he was.
You know, I never did find out, either.
copyright 1998
Deborah Madigan
