When he reached out his hand toward me, I almost dove back into the locker room. It was like the bony hand of death reaching out to clutch me. “Plea...e.” The voice rasped.“Yeah,” I said, harshly. “What do you want? Who are you?”“It’s me, Harold Anderson,” he said. “Melody’s father.”Shit! The guy was a shadow of the man I met last spring. I thought back to when I saw him in July and realized he’d been thinner than in May, but nowhere near what he was now.“Mr. Anderson. Are you okay?”“You’ve got. "Really?" she smiles watching the girls approach. "Well, I guess we'lljust have to find out, won't we?"Purnell is distressed. He's fine with Nanny dressing him in the sissysuit and combing his bangs over his forehead, and he's fine with shavedlegs, knee-highs, and light make-up. After all, playing 'dress-up' inthe safety of his home means masturbation whenever he wants, and Nannyand her maid approve since it keeps adult temptations at bay and makeshim easier to control. [Nanny intends keeping. More

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