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I first realised that I liked women’s clothing when I was about 13. By the time I was 17 I'd confessed to my mother (my Dad ran off when I was 6) She was really understanding and allowed me to dress whenever I liked at home, even lending me clothes and helping me with makeup etc. And so Felicity was born. I think the only reason my Mum was ok was because I convinced her I only liked girls and wasn't into men (this was true at the time). The following story takes place a month or so after my 18th birthday. We have a small family and my Mum has one relative, her brother in law Ken. Ken was in his late 60s at the time and had recently sold his house and planned to enter a home as he felt he could no longer look after himself as a gammy leg meant he couldn't get out much. Anyway he couldn't move into the home for three weeks and so came to stay. At first I promised Mum that I wouldn’t dress with him around but she refused to let me stop. I was having a bad time with one course at collage and she knew dressing calmed me down. When Ken arrived she sat down with both of us and explained the situation to him. I was so embarrassed and kept blushing however Uncle Ken seemed fine about it. He was a strong man with a full head of white hair and although he had aged in the seven or eight years since I'd seen him last he still possessed the smile I'd loved to see as a child and his eyes still sparkled with life. Apart from his leg he was in good health. Things went wrong from the beginning. The first night he stayed I dressed simply in a plain skirt and blouse with wig but no makeup. Things seemed ok and the three of us chatted and watched TV. However I noticed a few glances from Uncle Ken that were a little odd. Then ...

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