Jake raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It's just her clothes and stuff."I hesitated, unsure of how to justify my reaction. "I-I don't know, itseems like a ...aste," I said at last, lamely.Jake grinned teasingly. "A waste? Keep them for yourself then."The blood drained from my face. Could he possibly know?For as long as I could remember, I've had a compelling urge to dress infemale clothing. And not just clothing, but the whole nine yards: wigs,makeup, heels, and accessories. When I had finally had the. I explained mydisease and what my doctor said. She was concerned but seemed supportiveof my problem. She then asked me to show her my chest.I was nervous as I took my two shirts and a t-shirt off. She saw mybreasts and was amazed at how developed I was. We talked about thedisease and said she would help in what ever I needed.I told her I was willing to try wearing a bra to see if the bra wouldrelieve the pain I was having. She agreed. I told her I did not know howto measure for a bra. She. More

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