I do not own the characters. I am not making a profit and not infringement is intended.

Rated M; quim is slang for …well you know.

Nan's First Fitting: just a quick glance... Love

I stood in front of my looking glass, my body clean of all cloth, just my bare skin reflected back at me. I rubbed my body up and down, feeling the softness and warmth of my skin. I turned this way and that, looking at the reflection of my body as I changed poses and watched the squirming of my firm muscles underneath the silk of my skin, my body absent of the padding most women my age adorn under their skin.

I noticed not for the first time my small breasts, slim hips similar to a mans, and my almost pure ivory toned skin, a noticeable contradiction to my dark eyes and even darker hair. I smiled at my reflection, and with a quick sweep of my long fingers flicked bohemian style hair out of my eyes for the third time since I came to stand in front of my reflecting tab, hanging in the privacy of my bed chambers.

I pouted out my lips as I reached down to grasp my new costume-a men style suit and dress shirt. I hung up the shirt on the corner of my reflecting glass, intent instead on trying on the odd draws. I slipped the wool trousers over my slim ankles for the first time, feeling the warm and thick fabric as it tickled my skin as I stood up and pulled them up my legs then fastened them tightly about my jutting hipbones.

I watched myself in the mirror, fascinated by the profile of my body adorned in this foreign set of cloth. I felt the scratch and tickle of the trouser seam between my thighs, tickling my naked quim. I felt heat rip throughout my body at the new sensation. I watched in the mirror as my nipples stiffened and my slim stomach broke out in goose bumps. I parted my lips as I inhaled deeper breaths, my lungs expanded largely with each gasping breath.

I slid my hands up my body and cupped my breasts while still watching myself in the mirror. I tilted my head back at the familiar sensation of warm hands touching my womanly soft mounds. I have touched myself prior to this day, but never while watching myself doing it. The thought alone sent more heat to my loins, sent my stiff muscles to trembling and my knees to shaking unsteadily.

With a free hand I reached out to anchor myself against the doorframe to the clothes racks then clawed at the wood roughly with my long fingers, all the while still watching my other hand moving in a circle, tickling my breast. I trailed my free hand down to the front of my new trousers and slipped my hand inside the now warm wool, feeling the scratch of the fabric against the back of my hand as I slid down further to cup my wet quim. The hot liquid coated my fingers, dripped between them and onto the rough seam of the trousers. My head felt dizzy from the feel of it all.

I sank my fingers into the wooden frame and turned my head to rest my open mouth against the trembling skin of my arm in the hopes of quieting my gasps of pleasure. I rubbed my longest finger against my hot bump, feeling my pounding heartbeat against my finger as I pushed in hard, and cried out a whimper into my arm. I rubbed, twirled and dipped my warm finger around the hardness, and felt a great heat as it trembled my insides in a way I've never felt before.

I watched my cheeks as they turned rosy from my excitement and my full lips parted even further to gasp in more breaths. I watched all this and I felt like I should stop, not do this during my new costuming experience, but I had to continue, my body demanded it. Each stroke bestowed upon my hot quim was harder than the prior and before long, my legs spread a bit and I had to move against my touch. Then my hips tilted forward as I felt the heat reach its pinnacle and burst forth.

I finally closed my eyes to block out the image of my trembling and slumped form, reflected there in the glass for all the ghosts in this room to see. I leaned with my last thread of strength against the strong cedar frame of the doorway. I opened my eyes, smiled at myself then stood tall as my new trousers dictate I should. A male impersonator should not slump like a woman.

I wiped my moist fingers clean on my old feminine yellow frock, then slipped my white dress shirt over my narrow shoulders, buttoned it up quick like, tucked the tails in and stood tall. I slipped on the loafers Kitty left and stood straight up, reaching my full height. I was to be Nan King, side act to Kitty Butler upon the music stage. With another flick of my boyish style hair, I nodded my head and smiled at the reflection of my new male persona. For the first time in my whole existence, I felt good about the person looking back at me in the reflection.

Then I spun on my loafer clad heels and walked out of my room, trousers now firmly tightened and hair properly combed back in my own display of masculine strength. I matched my stride to that of a fellows and slammed the door shut just as a male would. I smiled the whole walk down the wooden stairwell to the parlor to showcase my new costume. I hoped my Kitty smiles in joy at me, I repeated softly to the rhythm of my steps.

Just a one-shot I think. I've got too many dishes to juggle and they all keep rattling about on my head.