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He undid his shirt for her and folded it and laid it, along with her habit on a chair. The room, like the rectory, was quiet. Not a soul existed anywhere."You have nice bosoms, sister" he told her.She blushed once she heard his words and replied "Father, I am a minister of god and so are you." But he hushed her."Shhhhh. We both know this but sister we are both human as well. I am a man and you are a woman. We both have needs and these needs, well they can, and do grow strongly at times. Now is one of them, so shhhh."Even though her top was still on he reached out. He looked at her chest and touched one of her boobs. She jumped backwards. Her eyes grew wide. He smiled more. He liked how her tit felt and did it again."Yours feel nice, sister" he said quietly. He felt it again.Again, she seemed to stumble backwards as his fingers touched her boobs. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't seem to resist it at all. He watched her reactions as he felt them and to her he truly seemed to be. As I got up from the bed teetering on the high stiletto heels I found apanty girdle in the dresser then sat back on the bed to wriggle into thetight garment as Agnes swished over a fresh dress for the afternoon. Ifelt the weakness brought on by the orange pill fully now. And here Iwas a fully feminized vintage housewife now, nearly an automaton. Livingmy day to day life as a woman, being known only as a woman, Mrs. NedHawthorne, and looking and dressing and acting as a woman and only doingwomen's things. A vintage girly-girl lady!The "guy" thoughts and memories returned momentarily as I swished up myslip and stepped into the tight paneled long legged panty girdle andbegan pulling it up my nylon clad legs and then up high and tight on mywaist. But the "guy" thoughts quickly faded in a mental fog, part of thequalities of the orange pill. I had become a vacant, mincing, limpwristed priss. In full feminine compliance."I...I d...don't like those orange pills Agnes. They make me feel.
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