Halloween has always been in our house the most favorite holiday. Every time my mother tried to make the best costumes for me and my older brother. We never bought them, and everyone sewed their own hands. Mom spent long hours writing unique images and embodying them in fabric, so more than once our costumes claimed the role of the best.

That year I turned 13 years old. At a party dedicated to All Saints Day, I met my school friend, Ronnie Schumaker, dressed as a girl. Very sexy girl. At first we did not recognize him. Only when he and his mother came to us and said hello, I understood who was in front of me. Yet it was difficult to imagine that this cute creature was a disguised guy.

“Ronnie, is that you?” - I could not hide my surprise. He silently smiled and made curtsy. He was wearing a pleated skirt, similar to those that are required to wear girls in school, only this one was shorter. So short that a couple of times I could even see the edge of his pink lace panties. The suit was complemented by a tight-fitting pullover that emphasized small hillocks of breasts. I was just stunned! This is realism. They were small in size, but at every step they bounced like balls. Through the fabric of the pullover, the outlines of the bra were clearly visible. High heels, a golden wig and bright make-up completed the Nymphet Suit.

My mother was also very amused by such an outfit. She could not admire how lovely everything was done. On her part, Mrs. Schumaker had heard plenty of praise for such an original work. My mom was especially amazed by the attention to fine details: manicured and polished nails, eyes and shadows, and of course, a bust. Ronnie blushed noticeably when her mother explained that she used artificial breasts with silicone fillers to create a natural look and shape. My companion completely turned red when our mothers with might and main began to discuss his costume, as if two fashion designers standing in front of a dummy.

And my eyes at this time stuck to his legs, tightened in white tights. When Ronnie was finally allowed to sit down, his mini-skirt had ridden up high on his hips, and while he was crossing his legs, I for a moment saw a bright pink stripe. And at that very moment my mom turned to me and asked: “Would you like the same costume?”

“Eh?” I jerked my head back, caught off guard.

Both women laughed. Yes, I got caught. Ronnie and I were blushing terribly.

“Did you like his costume?” Mrs. Schumaker asked me.

"Well ... he is nothing ... beautiful." I wanted to run away from there, my throat was dry, and my face was the color of beets.

My mother smiled: “Okay, then I will make this suit for you too. He will be ready in a week, for the next party. ” Our mothers immediately began to discuss plans for this occasion, while we sat quietly, not daring to say a word.

After a couple of minutes, Mrs. Schumaker turned to me and said: “My dear, why don't you invite Ronnie to the dance? I know that he ... or more precisely, “she” loves to dance. ” Both women laughed again, and although I tried to refuse, they nevertheless insisted on their own. It was scary to even think that I would be dancing with a guy, but on the other hand it was obvious that from the side of Ronnie she was the most charming girl at the party. This was confirmed by hidden views that were thrown at him by all the guys without exception. His miniskirt looked like a pair of slender legs, and his chest was larger than any real girl at the party.

Surprisingly, Ronnie did not mind the dance. He just looked shyly at the floor and nervously fidgeted in his chair.When he raised his eyes, and our eyes met, I saw him swinging his long false eyelashes, as if asking if I would agree to support the game. I felt some kind of strange sensation that gripped the body, which then concentrated in a throbbing tingling in the lower back. I decided to forget for a moment who he really was and saw an amazing girl in front of me. Without thinking, I stood up, extended my hand to Ronnie, and led her to dance.

The hall was already full of dancing guys and girls. I led Ronnie through the crowd right into the center, and we started. And she danced very well. I was just fascinated by how her body responded to the rhythm of music, her breasts seductively jumped in time with her every movement. I knew they were not real, but it now seemed to make no sense. I wanted to grab and squeeze them. When the ballad went, I hugged Ronnie without hesitation, and held her tightly to me.

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The next morning, my mother told about her idea about my new suit. I was supposed to be a "go-go girl" - a girl from the 60s. And although Ronnie's suit was good, she was going to do even better. The first thing she thought was to teach me how to walk in heels. Mom noticed that Ronnie let us down in this sense, so she wanted my walk to be as natural as possible. We immediately went to the local shops and began to choose my shoes. Hiding in the booth, I tried on a couple after a couple, but my mother was still not happy. Finally, she opted for red shoes with terribly high heels. Wearing them, I realized that I could hardly stand, and I could not even talk about walking. But she explained to me that the higher the heel, the more slender the legs look and the more sexy the gait becomes. As soon as we returned home, she immediately ordered to put them on. From now on, as soon as I returned home from school, I had to dress and practice them, not losing a single day. By the party my mother promised that I would become an expert. In the meantime, I, in a T-shirt and jeans, hobbled on heels throughout the house, tucking my legs at every step, and even tried to climb the stairs.

But that was only the beginning. My mother insisted that I move with grace. She noted that although Ronnie looked like a girl, his manners were still manly rude. While I was nursing in circles around the room, my mother corrected my gait, forcing me to take smaller steps and shake my hips to the beat. The shoes themselves should have made me feel like a girl. Mom also taught me to speak in a slightly higher voice with a smooth musical tinge.

A week later, the dress was ready. It was a brilliant red dress without sleeves and straps. Undressing, I tried to pull it over myself, I tried it, because it was terribly tight. It is good that the elastic material from which it was made stretched well, and, spinning from side to side, I finally put it on properly. Wow, it was like a second skin! His up was covering my chest and ending with my armpits, thus leaving my shoulders bare. And it was so short that it barely covered my ass. Mom explained that it was these dresses that were worn by real “go-go girls”. It was very tight everywhere, except for the front part, but I was told that “everything has its time”. From that moment on my obligatory “home dress” supplemented the dress.

The training continued, as the creation of my new image continued. The next turn was a wig, which turned me into a blond ... sorry, blonde. Polished and painted nails. Bijouterie. But the next element I met with bayonets. These were light seamless stockings. But mom insisted on them. “What kind of a go-go girl will it be?” To my horror, the top edge of the stockings did not reach the whole inch to the edge of the dress, and what was even worse was that it was thus visible that I was wearing a belt, which I could not avoid at all.

As I said before, the dress was very short and tight, so I didn’t imagine how to sit so that it didn’t get up.Mom warned me not to allow anyone to see that I was wearing men's underwear. Besides ...