Call us:+44 (0) 161 773 4477|email:info@transformation.co.uk
CurrencyGBPGBP
GBP GBP EUR EUR USD USD
Nov 201520

Crossdressing and Society

frequently asked questions, special interest
I choose the term crossdresser because transvestite carries too much negative connotation with it. As a transgendered person, my crossdressing is really more an issue of self expression than something I do for kicks. The many and varied reasons for this can be reduced down to a prime-motivating factor - it give me a more complete sense of self. I feel more like me (Don't get me wrong there is a definite sensual aspect to crossdressing. I like the way women's clothes feel - a flowing silk skirt against stockinged legs, a silk blouse - it very sensual. Let's be real - me;s clothing just isn't sensual. Functional? Yes. Comfortable? Usually. Sensual? Hardly!) Mens clothing is pretty boring - pants and a shirt, and for business - a suit. The steretypical business attire - a blue suit, white shirt, tie and black shoes and if it's raining a trench coat. It looks like a bunch of clones walking down the street. Women, on the other hand, have a flexibility in dressing of which, to be honest, I am quite envious. With choices of fabrics, colour, style and accessories, womens clothing is just more fun. It allows a freedom of self-expression men just do not have. My crossdressing helps fill that void. There is nothing inherently male or female about any one article of clothing. The design of a piece of clothing may favor one or the other (a bra definitely fits a woman better than a man) but it remains nothing more than a specific configuration of cloth, metal, plastic, etc. As a culture, we have chosen to associate certain types and styles of clothing with either men or women. There are those who feel that crossdressing is unnatural. Well, it is. In fact, the wearing of any clothing is unnatural. We have no genetic predisposition to wearing clothes. Crossdressing is as unnatural as straight dressing. Clothing and the meanings we placed upon is a fabrication of society. Men used to wear tunics with tights, knickers, ruffled shirts, wigs, heels... the list goes on and on. Try putting on a tunic length top and leggings today... You get the idea. Interestingly though, items such as sarongs and kilts are alright (in certain settings.) Prince Charles has appeared on TV (how appropriate) sporting his kilt while out with his sons.  
  Women crossdress all the time. They buy men's jeans, shirts and sneakers... even underwear, and they do it without shame or ridicule. In fact, the female crossdresser is considered fashionable. I have read many articles in fashion magazines about how to liven up ones wardrobe by borrowing clothes from your boyfriend, husband, etc. Women's fashions have even copied men's: tuxedo shirts and jackets, boxer shorts, and sport coats are just a few items that have been feminized. It seems clear that women wearing men's clothing (female crossdressing) is socially acceptable. Men, on the other hand, do not have this freedom. The wearing clothing associated with women is frowned upon by society. Men wearing women's clothing is not socially acceptable and the male crossdresser opens himself to scorn and ridicule almost beyond belief. We are tagged as freaks and misfits: deviants to be avoided. It is immediately assumed that we are either gay (not to insinuate that any of the above labels apply to either the gay or transgendered community as a whole), which is false more times than not, or that we are just mentally disturbed. The repression feelings is not a good thing, and women who want to express their masculine side are, in general, encouraged to do so. Society as a whole has no problem with women exploring the stereotypically masculine world. Men, on the other hand, are not supposed to have a feminine side. Any man who show interest in stereotypically feminine interests runs the risk of being pigeonholed as above. Men who crossdress tend to have strong feminine sides that needs to express themself. Whether crossdressed or not, this feminine side is still there, fighting to be heard; although society would rather that it not exist at all. Can you say Double Standard? Welcome to the life of a crossdresser. The simple fact is that the majority of men who crossdress are really no different than any other men. They work, have families and basically live like everyone else except they like women's clothes. Ah, I can hear it now "That's not like everyone else!" Allow me to ask, "How do you know?" Many crossdressers never venture into public. Some who do are better looking than some real women are! Many wear women's underwear on a regular basis. The fact is, if no one told you, you would probably never know. He could be anyone: a drinking buddy, an employee or even your boss. Anyone, put under close enough scrutiny, would probably reveal something, which could be construed as not fitting in with the societal norm. Yet, we all go about our business not really thinking twice about the person next to us. We are all different, and at the same time similar. The diversity of Mankind is something as yet unsurpassed in the animal kingdom, and is something to be embraced and celebrated. It is our differences which define us, not our similarities. Crossdressing allows me a freedom of self expression which the confines of society's definition of 'man' just won't allow. And I like that freedom. It has taken me a long time become comfortable with who I am. I am a crossdresser. And even with all the baggage that comes along with that statement, I wouldn't want change who I am for anything

Nov 201520

Josie as a Maid

short story

Here I am with my plum colored hair in a feminine cut and style. I have full make-up on, mascara, permanent eyelashes, lipstick, eye make-up, fully made up. With my permanent arched eyebrows it’s so obvious that this is not a one-time dress-up. If anyone sees me that will know that I’m being femmed up for life. My little maid’s cap is perched on my coiffed hair. I have super glued posts in one set of my ears, it cannot be removed and every few days my ears are checked to be sure that the glue isn’t coming loose. If this happens I have to mince and get more glue for Sarina to re-apply.

 

I have on the frilliest panties, lace all-around with fishnets today. Other days I wear various stockings or pantyhose. 4-inch patent leather pumps are the usual shoes when I’m in my maid’s attire. With lots of toe cleavage are on my feet. Sometimes Sarina likes to glue them on if she feels that I’m being lazy and I try to sneak them off.

 

I have on a lace-up bustier, with my glued on breasts. And this is covered with a black satin maid’s dress. With lace on the hem, puffy sleeves and peasant collar. I have the ultimate addition for embarrassment. It’s a crinoline full petticoat that fits around my waist. This puffs my dress out so that you can see my panties, and my stocking tops. Permanent glued nails with rings and of course the maid lacy gloves are on my arms. I have a little frilly choker around my neck as well. Its so over the top that its really girly for even a girl.

 

I have to go to the mall looking like this. I pull into the parking lot and wiggle in to J.C.Penny’s. Because it s a few days before Halloween, all the female clerks giggle and laugh and are so complimentary on my outfit. I tread the humiliation when I have to go shopping again next week and the weeks to come in the maid’s outfit and they realize that I’m a sissy and completely under my wife’s control. I have to take the escalator and buy several items, mince out to the parking lot and go to my next assignment. Here I am going to a Convenience store.

 

After I buy my wife’s lunch and pick her up. She orders me to go in and buy a paper and some candy. A woman across from where we are parked calls out and comments on my shoes. I have to tell her that my wife dresses me like this all the time, she giggles and says she wishes she could get her own husband to dress like that.

 

Next stop after I drop off my wife is a liquor store, there everyone looks and laughs and the cashier loved my shoes, she makes comments about my plucked, thin arched brows and she tells me that she can tell that this is a serious outfit, and that it looks like I’m dressed like this for some time. I smile and tell her that this is what I have to wear to go out shopping and I have to get used to it. I have a young man carry the case of beer out to the car. He laughs and tells me that I look good in the outfit.

 

Then I go to a card store to buy some tape and it is filled with women. The getting out of the car, straightening my skirt, and walking across the parking lot, or anywhere in these heels its so embarrassing. You have to take little steps and wiggle to get anywhere.

 

There are at least 6 women in the store when I mince through the door. Besides the 2 working there who giggle and smile when they see my sissy outfit. Everyone comments on my shoes and dress. They all think I look cute. What will they think when I have to go back in a few weeks, still in my maid’s dress, with the heels clicking along the cement and me wiggling into the store trying not to look too embarrassed as I buy a card.

 

Sarina tells me after a while I will not be so humiliated. I will get used to being a maid. She is looking forward to my cleaning and running her errands and knowing that I am sitting at home waiting for her. When she comes in I have to curtsey and take her coat.

 

And every time I enter and leave a room I have to curtsey each time. I cannot sit down except in the kitchen. I have to do all the cooking, make the meals etc and of course clean each room in my outfit. Sometimes sleep in panties and stockings and the one of the most embarrassing is wearing a tampon when my wife gets her period. I have to change it when I go to the bathroom. And I also must wear the panty liners as well. I have to experience all the problems that females have.

 

I am so worried when I have to go into the food store this weekend, days after Halloween and shop for the groceries. It will be so embarrassing. Will I ever get used to being in the outfit wiggling around town on my days off?



Nov 201520

The Chance

short story

THE CHANCE

  Since I was seven I had had just one real wish, to be a girl. In the following years this wish grew stronger and stronger, and as I entered into puberty, this problem became ever more difficult. I saw how the girls developed into women with their wonderfully shaped bodies and breasts. I wanted to look like that too, but instead I developed into a man with an abominable body and this thing between my legs which, instead of disappearing, just got bigger and bigger. I tried to cope with this problem and live my life as a man, but I just wasn't very successful. Last year, at the age of 24, I made the decision to undergo a sex change, to take hormones, and to submit to an operation that would approximate a sex complete change. Naturally I would have chosen a simpler method, but this was the sole possibility (at that time). For weeks I surfed the internet in search of information that could help me on my path to become a woman. As a part of that I registered myself in a transsexual forum, in order to discuss my problem with people concerned with such matters. I registered using the name Jennifer. Then 3 months passed, and I just was preparing to begin hormone therapy, when a participant of the forum contacted me. She called herself Alexandra and wrote in her message just the following sentence: "If you would like to be a woman in 24 hours, then get in touch with me!" Naturally I thought right away that this was some stupid joke or a game. I was just about to shut down the computer, when I thought, it can't hurt to give this mysterious person an answer and to go along with the game. So I wrote her a reply: "Yes, I would give anything for that to happen." Scarcely had I sent off the email, when the answer arrived: "Then at 7 o'clock tomorrow morning be at the main train station in Zurich, track 12. Wear a white pullover and a hat and hold a book in your hands." That was all that she wrote me. I was overwhelmed by distrust and decided that I'd not go to Zurich, since from the start I suspected this to be a bad joke. So I did shut down my computer and went to bed. But I couldn't help thinking about this thing between my legs and how I would love to have it gone. But I kept thinking about this Alexandra and how wonderful it would be, if it were no joke. It was at 4 o'clock in the morning that I decided to travel to Zurich.
    f821_1557.jpgSo at 7 o'clock I was standing at the station, track 12, and I wore a white pullover, a black hat, and had a book in my hands. I waited... By 7:15 I was convinced that, as expected, this whole thing was a joke, when suddenly a woman came up to me on the bench where I sat and spoke to me: "Jennifer?" I turned toward her: "Yes. Alexandra?" "No, my name in Manuela and I'm supposed to pick you up here. Alexandra is waiting for you now." She stood up and walked toward the parking lot. I hesitate a brief moment, then I decided to go along; my curiosity as well as my fear were growing steadily. Without saying much I got into her car and we drove about half an hour into a Zurich suburb, where we went into an office building. On the fourth floor we came to a firm by the name Mental Trading, Inc. Manuela led me into one of several rooms, where a woman was waiting for me. "Jennifer. Please, come in! I am Alexandra." She was about 40 and made a friendly as well as a serious impression. "Hello" was all that I could say. When I had seated myself, Alexandra began to speak: "I know that you have been full of suspicion about my offer since yesterday evening, her into the hall. "The 6 candidates are living at this time in these rooms. They are one-room apartments, but we also have a recreation room, where the candidates can meet. Unfortunately I can't show you these facilities, since before making your choice you are not permitted to come into contact with other candidates." She led me into another room. "But I can show you this room; here the actual body transfer is completed. You will enter one of these cubicles, the other person goes into the other cubicle. The cubicles are connected with each other. After a short time you will fall asleep and the transfer begins. When you wake up, you will be very weak, that's why we'll take you into a care center, where you'll remain lying for a few hours before you can leave our clinic again." "How long does this transfer take?" "About 50 minutes." "How will I know how I'm going to look afterward?" "We will now show you the photos of our 4 female candidates. Before that, however, I'd like to ask you to take off your clothes, so that I can take a picture of you, because those 4 candidates must also want your body."
    So I undressed and stood naked in front of a camera. I was getting unsure again, as to whether this wasn't a joke after all, but my curiosity and my hope were too big, to allow me to back out now. Then the flash went off... "O.K. That's that. I'll put your photo in the databank and wait on the answers of our lady candidates. Before you can see their pictures, we still have one more thing to finish up, that is, the financial part." I'd been waiting for the time when this was brought up. "How much does it cost? "It's not so expensive. 15,000 dollars for a new life is actually not bad. For the usual sex-change, you'd pay a lot more." She was right there. "Naturally, the entire amount isn't due until the body change is complete, on the other hand, I need a down payment of 1,500 dollars. The financial risk for something like this was pretty small. So I took my credit card out and paid the 1,500 dollars on the spot. "Wonderful," she said. "And finally still one very important piece of information: So that you can live your own life after the body transfer, this afternoon I'll have your name and gender legally changed. I've got good contact with the authorities, so that this should go without any hitches. Then you'll receive your new ID papers in the next few days." That sounded too good to be true, but I didn't want to hold back from this step. Alexandra now led me to a computer, where she showed me the photos of the 4 candidates along with their personal information. "I'll leave you alone now. If a candidate suddenly disappears from the screen, that means that she has no interest. Good luck!" "Thank you." Alexandra left the room. Now I sat there and looked at these 4 women. The thought that I would be one of these women in a few hours caused me anxiety on the one hand but joy on the other. On the first picture there was a redhead with long hair, age 28, 5' 4" tall, a pretty face but with a large nose. She was rather slender with relatively small breasts (A-cup). On the second picture was a blonde also with long hair, age 23, 5' 9" tall, a delicate face. She was also relatively slender and her breasts were larger than in the case of the redhead (B-cup). The third was a brunette, who also had long hair. She was 26 years old, 5' 6" tall, an angular face, but feminine nonetheless. She was not as slender as the others, but still very much okay. Her breasts were significantly larger, a good C-cup. The fourth was another blonde, but with short hair, age 25, 5' 7" tall, and a very beautiful face. She was athletically proportioned and her breasts filled a B-cup.
    f821_1753.jpgThat was all the information that I had available. Now I had the torment of making a choice, and I had to decide for myself, which criteria were most important to me. I asked myself, what I was really imagining. One important point was height. I didn't want to be all that short, and red hair wasn't for me in anyway. That left candidate one out. The brunette followed a short time later, because somehow I couldn't identify with her face and her breasts were also a bit too large for me. Each of the two blondes made a good impression, maybe I felt a tendency for candidate two. Now I could only wait and see, if one of the ladies had no interest and which one might accept my body. Five minutes before time ran out, the redhead disappeared from the screen, but this was no problem for me at all. A minute before the end, however, candidate two disappeared from the screen and this disappointed me a bit. Soon after than Alexandra came in again. "Have you decided?" "Yes, I've chosen candidate four." Although she was not exactly my first choice, I could be enthusiastic about her body and after all who has the choice to pick out one's own body. "Great, I'm glad to hear that. Now everything will go quickly. Please, undress now and enter the cubicle to your right." I did, what Alexandra required of me. Then I had cables attached all over my body. Alexandra closed the cubicle and now I became truly nervous. For several minutes (it seemed like hours) nothing at all happened, till I suddenly got tired and slowly went to sleep... "Jennifer, wake up!" Alexandra stood before me, and it took a while before I realized where I was. I lay in a bed and was covered. Manuela stood next to Alexandra and so I slowly realized what had probably happened. "It's over," grinned Alexandra. "You are now a woman. I'll have to ask you though not to move much in the next half hour; after that you can try to stand up and check out your new body." My heart was turning somersaults, but I couldn't make a single sound. Alexandra and Manuela then left my room. After several minutes, however, there was nothing that could keep me in bed. I tried to move. At first I moved my arms and my head. After a while I could support some of my weight on my arms, and now I felt for the first time the weight on my chest. As I looked down, I noticed two roundnesses, and it was unmistakably clear, that these were genuine breasts and that they were mine.
    f821_1754.jpgNow I tried to move my legs and this went well, too, so that I was soon sitting up. In that motion feelings registered between my legs for the first time. But I didn't want to touch this place with my hands yet. After several attempts I succeeded in standing up and I walked slowly back and forth in the little room. After about an hour of this I could walk without any problem, and now I felt ready to stand in front of the mirror and take stock of myself. It was with a shock of joy that I stood before the mirror. There I was, with short blonde hair, a lovely face with expressive eyes, a sweet mouth. Then I looked down a little and saw these curvatures again. Now it was time, to pull off the nightgown and see the full results. First I freed my breasts and touched them quite lightly as I did so. It was already a very intensive moment, which excited me a lot. Then I let the nightie fall and was able to see the result between my legs: a vagina, a real vagina. With great respect for my body I drew my hands across my breasts and stroked them, which caused me to give out a small groan. That made me realize that I had a new voice. I began to speak and giggled now and then. The voice was not terribly high but rather a deeper woman's voice, but I had no problem with that. Then I let my left hand wander further down till it came to my vagina. I moved my hand back and forth several times and felt how this excited me more and more. I decided to lie down on the bed, spread my legs apart and began to investigate my new genital region by stimulating my clitoris. I was becoming more and more excited and noticed how I was slowly getting moist between my legs. Now I pushed two fingers into my vagina and then pulled them out. This was repeated and the movements got faster and faster till I was just moaning and had my first orgasm as a woman. When I opened my eyes, Manuela stood in front of me and smiled. "Nice feeling, isn't it?" "Heavenly. Men don't know what they are missing." We both giggled. "Jennifer, it's time to pack up. I've put the clothing of your predecessor into your bag and I've some clothes for you to put on now. As soon as you are ready, you can come into Alexandra's office." "Thanks so much," I said with my new voice. When Manuela left the room, I took the clothing, which she had given me and stood before the mirror. Then I discovered a package of tampons lying there. Oh, yes, that's a part of it all, I thought. But joy was to dominate today. I took a tampon out of the package and guided it into my sheath, a strange feeling. Then I took some panties and pulled them on. It was wonderful, how my panties didn't bulge but rather clung closely to my skin. Then I took the bra and pulled it over my breasts, it fit perfectly. Then came my socks and a pair of tailored pants. Now there was just a white top, which delineated my breasts nicely. Finally I pulled on a pair of sport shoes and looked into the mirror a last time before my departure. Makeup wasn't really necessary, since I already looked very good and had a natural appearance. I took my bag, left the room and walked into my future as a woman...

Nov 201520

Christine Jorgensen

frequently asked questions, how to guides
f794_1534"I could never understand why I was receiving so much attention," Jorgensen said in a 1986 interview. "Now looking back, I realize it was the beginning of the Sexual Revolution, and I just happened to be one of the trigger mechanisms." Christine Jorgensen-with her sleek hair, smokey voice, slender f794_1537body and smart clothes, exploded into the nation's consciousness in the halcyon days of the post war Baby Boom, in the placid I-like-Ike, I-love-Lucy era when issues of sexuality, much less transsexuality, were strictly taboo. It didn't take much to propel her private, two-year odyssey from man to woman into the object of international debate and ridicule. "EX-GI BECOMES BLONDE BOMBSHELL," screamed the headline in the Daily News, which broke the story on Dec. 1, 1952, after it was leaked about the second of Jorgensen's three operations.   Unwittingly, Jorgensen's surgery proved to be something more than the lurid tale it was made out to be at the time: It was also the begining of greater candor and understanding in the way the world looked at issues of transsexuality. According to the International Gender Dysphoria Association, by 1980 an estimated 3,000 to 6,000 American adults had undergone hormonal and surgical sex changes. Among them, tennis pro Renee Richards and British-born writer Jan Morris.  
  f794_1535And while transsexual surgery has hardly become commonplace since it was pioneered in Europe in the 1930s, it certainly has become less-than-scandalous in most quarters. Indeed, by 1982, when news spread that a Nassau County police officer had undergone a sex-change operation and was planning to return to the force, the response, from the county executive to the police commissioner, was more support that embarrassment. "It (the surgery) wouldn't get on the 95th page of the newspaper if it happened today," Jorgensen said last year in an interview with the Los Angeles Time. "It's not news anymore." But it was news-scandalous news-when Jorgensen did it. In those pre-feminist days, there was no end to the cutting appellations: The press described her variously as mankind's gift to female species," "The latest thing in blonde bombshells," "tops in swaps" and "the turnabout gal." In and out of the press, she became subject of endless conversation and the butt of thousands of titillating jokes. And that was just the beginning. While Jorgensen was still in Denmark, she had sold the rights to her life story to the Hearst Corp.'s American Weekly Magazine for $20,000. But that contract did little to dissuade other journalists-and evryone else-from besieging her. f794_1536On Feb. 12, 1953, when she stepped off the plane from Denmark, at what was then Idlewild Airport, Jorgensen was greeted by more than 350 "admirers, autograph hounds and just plain curious people." Not to mention hordes of reporters and photographers who catalogued everything from her baggage (13 pieces of luggage) to her destination ("the Swank Carlyle Hotel" in Manhatten) to her first beverage in America (a Bloody Mary "containing two shots of vodka and tomato juice") From then on, wherever Jorgensen went, neither the press nor the attendant carnival atmosphere was far behind. Every detail was grist for the mill: Her size 9-AA shoes. Her $10 contribution to a volounteer fire department in her new Long Island's hometown. Her first Easter bonnet, which landed her on the front page of Newsday on Easter weekend in 1953, a much-vaunted accolade traditionally reserved for Long Island's society matrons.  
    z13884585qchris-jorgensen-juz-jako-christine-jorgensenThe press couldn't get enough of Jorgensen. The press was there on Feb. 26, 1953, when she took her drivers test in Garden City. A Newsday reporter noted on the occasion, "She, then he, had once been employed as a chauffeur. But her license had expired and so, said one wag, had the sex of the owner." The press was there on May 8, 1953, when Jorgensen made her debut at Hollywoods Orpheum theater, narrating a 20-minute travel documentary she filmed in Europe: "Her paycheck is reported to be $12,500 for a weeks work." And the press was there a week later, on the flight back to New York, when Jorgensen announced that she planned to make her home in Massapequa, on a 150-by-100-square-foot parcel of land where her father, George, a carpenter, would build a six-room, $25,000 ranch-style house, complete with the most up-to-date burglar alarm system. "Long Island," she said, "[is] a lovely spot to settle." It became her home base until 1967, when her parents died and she moved to California. But if the press fueled the furor over Jorgensen, it was feeding a public that couldn't get enough of her and a society that didn't know what to make of her. Was she some sort of side show freak? Or a modern pioneer? There was no consensus. While gossip columnist Walter Winchell ridiculed her, hostess Elsa Maxwell feted her. While the Stork Club banned her, the Waldorf-Astoria welcomed her. Jorgensen, from the beginning never regretted what she did, "I regretted at the beginning, that the press got hold of it and made my life such an open book," she said in a 1979 Newsday interwiew. "But the publicity, too, hasn't been altogether bad. It's enabled me to make an awful lot of money."   christine-jorgensen2Although Jorgensen preferred to be known as "the noted colour photographer"-she even went to London in 1953 to photograph the coronation of Queen Elizabeth-she made her money, and her mark, from her celebrity. The offers of Hollywood stardom that poured in from film producers when she returned to the United States never panned out. Nevertheless, Jorgensen decided that if the notoriety that was following her wasn't going to die out, she might as well cash in on it. During the '50s and '60s she earned a more-than-comfortable living on the talk show and lecture circuit and, most notably, as a stage actress and nightclub performer. The act, which she took from the Latin Quarter in New York to the Interlude in Los Angeles to clubs in Havana, Caracas and throughout England and Australia, was both serious and fun. With a straight face she sang "I enjoy being a Girl." With tongue-in-cheek, she performed "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" as a parody of her life before the operation.  
  3a34f573f093f05ac988cae7ac11b573Throughout the years of living under a magnifying glass, Jorgensen retained her sense of humor. But in her 1967 book, "Christine Jorgensen: A Personal Biography," it was obvious that she had considered life before the operation anything but joyous. As a child growing up in the Bronx, Jorgensen said she was a "frail, tow-headed, introverted" little boy who "ran from fistfights and rough-and-tumble games." When she was 5, she wrote, her Christmas dream was for "a pretty doll with long gold hair." Under the tree, there was a red railroad train. A graduate of Christopher Columbus High School in the Bronx-Class of '45-Jorgensen was drafted into the Army a few months after the end of World War II, as a 19-year-old who admitted years later that he felt like a woman trapped in a mans body. The road to Jorgensen's transsexual surgery in Copenhagen began in New York, with years of independent research. At the Manhattan Medical and Dental Assistants School, Jorgensen devoured information on the subject of sexual hormones and glandular imbalances. Then, through a friend who was a physician, the young man discovered it was possible to obtain sex change treatments and operations in Scandinavia. In 1950, George Jorgensen Jr. left for Denmark, staying with friends and keeping his plans a secret from everyone, including his family. It was not until two years later-on the eve of the second operation-that Christine Jorgensen finally wrote to her parents in New York: "Nature made a mistake, which I have corrected, and I am now your daughter." Although Jorgensen's parents were shocked by the news, they welcomed their child home. Jorgensen herself never married, but there were countless reports of liassons: In 1952, a Texas GI told the world that he had dated her in Copenhagen "and she had the best body of any girl I ever met." In 1959, she became engaged; her first fiance later broke the engagement. "I've never been married," she said in the Newsday interview, "but I have been engaged twice, and I've been deeply in love twice. I was never engaged to the men I was in love with, and I was never in love with the men I was engaged to." When the noteriety died down, Jorgensen settled into a fairly private existence. After she left Long Island in 1967, she lived quietly in California, first at the Chateau Marmont, the historic apartment-hotel on Hollywood's Sunset Strip, then in a four bedroomed house in Laguna Niguel, 60 miles south of L.A., and for the last two years in San Clemente. Although she had dropped out of the lecture circuit for 15 years, she returned on-and-off during the 1980s. She had also been lpanning a sequel to her autobiography and had been trying to find a U.S. distributer for a Dutch-made documentary on transsexuals, lesbians and female impersonators. After she was diagnosed as having cancer in 1987, she confessed that one of her remaining dreams was to appear on the hit T.V. show, "Murder She Wrote." jorgesen555Jorgensen never found even fleeting fame on T.V. But she didn't need it. To many, she had won more enduring recognition, as a pioneer, as a man-turned-woman who broke down at least one of society's sexual barriers. For her own part, though, she saw it as nothing more that a case of self-preservation. "Does it take bravery and courage for a person with polio to want to walk?" she once said. "It's very hard to speculate on, but if I hadn't done what I did, I may not have survived. I may not have wanted to live. Life simply wasn't worth much. Some people may find it easy to live a lie, I can't. And that's what it would have been-telling the world I'm something I'm not."

Nov 201520

Her Sissy

short story

HER SISSY

It wasn’t that she was tired of me or the life we had created for ourselves, it was more that she wanted to be in control.

 

That she knew what she wanted almost made it worse, because she didn’t know how to go about getting it. Oh sure there were times when she felt the way she wanted to feel. She felt that kind of power and control when she would tease me so that I was almost ready to come, then she would make me beg her to let me fuck her.

 

She had been thinking about those times when she had taken the dominate role and after a bit of thinking she started to realize just how easy it was for her to get me to submit to her.

 

Kelly was a bright girl and she gave the whole thing quite a bit of mulling over. In fact she had even conducted a couple of experiments over the last two weeks. Once she refused to let me come until I had tounged her to numerous climax’s. Another time she had pretended to be upset with me and after telling me over and over how bad I had been she got me to agree to letting her spank me.

 

She couldn’t think of a better demonstration of my submissiveness then to be bending over while I held my dress or skirt up around my hips so that she could spank my now defenseless ass cheeks, unless it was what she was planning on doing to me.

 

She hoped that forcing me to listen as she told me how much she enjoyed punishing me would make me eager to let her do it to me any time she wanted. “Yes, I think that out of all of the things we have done together, I enjoyed spanking you ilke a naughty little girl more then anything else!” She told me. She smerked when I told her that I was glad that she enjoyed it. “Any time I can be part of something that you enjoyed doing I feel like I’ve done something nice for you.” I told her, then I added, “If there’s anything else that you think you would enjoy doing don’t hesitate to try it. Just go ahead and tell me what you want me to do.”

 

“Really?” she asked, sounding as if she didn’t believe me. “You just go ahead and tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.” I told her. She smiled and then told me that she wanted me to be her slave so that I HAD to do what she told me to do.

 

“Then consider me your slave.” I told her. “And I’ll just assume that I have to comply with anything you want of me.” She looked at me for a moment, then she ordered me to spread my legs so that my balls were completely accessable for her. I swallowed hard and then slowly moved my legs apart until they formed a wide Vee.

 

She nodded as she slid her hand up between my upper thighs. “I love to think that they are hanging like they are and just waiting for me to decide what I want to do to them.” She told me.

 

“They are.” I said. “You own my balls as well as everything else if I’m your slave.” I told her.

 

“That’s right.” She said with a smile. “And that would mean that I had a perfect right to do anything I wanted to them. Anything at all!” She closed her fingers around the two small nuggets. “What I want to do to my balls is make them hurt!” She said wickedly. She then crushed them aginst each other as she made her fingers form into a fist.

 

I doubled up and groaned as my tummy was gripped by strong cramps. “Oh yes. I can tell that they hurt.” She gasped as she squeezed them even tighter. My hands pressed into my tummy as I fought to catch my breath.

 

“Spread your legs wider slave, as wide as you can!” She ordered. I heard her laugh when I opened my legs as wide as they could go. “Yes, now I can do anything I want to them.” She said. “Even smash them under one of my knee’s!” She added as she slid one leg up between mine.

 

She released her grip, then raised up slightgly. When she lowered herself down I felt her hard knee start to flatten them under it. Once again I was doubled up from the way she was abusing my balls.

 

“God, they feel as if they just flattened right out like squashed pancakes.” She sqealed, then she lifted off of them. “If your my slave and I own your body, then I also own your asshole!” She exclaimed with a chuckle.

 

But all and all she still wasn’t sure how to go about doing what she thought she wanted to do. That is until my birthday started to get close. She had purchased a new monitor for my computer and she decided to hide it in the garage.

 

There were a number of boxes of old paperwork and such and she felt that one more box wouldn’t be noticed. The Friday before my birthday she got home several hours before me and she went out with the idea of moving things around so that she could stash her present in an inconspicuious spot.

 

Most of the things were covered with dust and such and she quickly got fed up with trying to make it look like nothing had been disturbed. Finally she had had it and shoved several boxes to one side so there would be room for hers, but when they landed on the garage floor she was suprised by what spilled out.

 

From her perch on the ladder she could clearly see all kinds of womens clothing. After a closer inspection she knew that these things weren’t just a bunch of old discarded garments. Some of the blouses and other pieces were up to date styles. In fact she found a slip that she knew was part of Vanity Fairs newest line.

 

With a growing curiousity she looked through the two boxes of lingerie, dresses, skirts and blouses. She even found a fair number of almost new high-heels in the second box along with a very complete collection of make-up.

 

She was still a little confused when she picked up the small square booklet, but her confusion didn’t stay with her very long as she glanced at the photographs that were inside. I had been crossdressing since the age of 12 or so and although I had tried to stop, I found that I couldn’t. I had never told her about it and dressed up only when she was away. Over the years there had been some pictures friends had taken of me when I was completely dressed and made-up.

 

She was not only suprised to learn about this part of me, but she was also suprised to see that I made a very good looking woman. As she glanced at the photo’s a smile began to appear on her face, a smile that kept growing bigger and bigger.

 

After putting the boxes back like they were she put the computer monitor in her car so she could return it. She had a better idea about what she should get me for my birthday then that.

 

That weekend she went out of her way to be a tease. She would flash me her fanny and more of her breasts then she usually exposed and at night she would eagerly engage in fourplay, but we didn’t seem to ever get around to having sex. She wanted me to be as fustrated and horny as she could make me when my birthday came.

 

The same thing continued to happen that Monday and Tuesday and by Wednesday morning I had an almost permanent erection. I was just finishing my cup of coffee before going to work when she came into the kitchen and informed me that she had called my work and told them that I was sick.

 

“In fact.” She said gleefully. “I told them that you probably wouldn’t be in until next week.” Now it was my turn to be suprised as she took my hands and pulled to my feet. She led me into the spare bedroom, then told me take off all of my clothes.

 

“I bought you several new outfits for your birthday.” She said. Her playful attitude was contagious and I was starting to have a good time just getting undressed. She took each piece as I removed it, including my shoes and my watch. She told me to wait where I was, then disappeared through the doorway.

 

I didn’t know what to think when she returned empty handed, but she didn’t give me much time to think about it because she stood right in front of me and started to take off her clothes as well. After slipping off her high heels she slipped her hands under her dress and skillfully pushed her pantyhose down off of her legs.

 

She left them laying on the floor by her feet as she did the same with the pair of brightly flowered panties she was wearing. Only instead of letting them fall to the floor she made sure that they hadn’t goten turned inside out and then she held them out in my direction.

 

“I thought you might like to wear some of my things!” She said knowingly, then she added. “In fact I know that you would like to wear them!” She stared at me while she continued to hold her panties out for me to take.

 

Inside I was almost out of control at the prospect of her dressing me up in her feminine garments, but I tried not to let it show. “I don’t understand.” I said as I took her panties into my hand.

 

She planted her hands on her hips, then narrowed her brow. “Don’t you give me any of that crap!” She said sternly. “I know all about you and I know that your nothing but a little sissy at heart.” She swung her hips back and forth in an exagerated feminine movement.

 

“And I also know all about your dressing up in girls clothes!” She said matter of factly. This caused me to almost go into shock and I stood and stared at her, not saying a word. “Now, you be a good girl and do what I tell you to do so I don’t have to punish you!”

 

She said in a stern voice she outright ordered me into her panties. “Now put those panties on right now!” She stamped her foot just to make sure I knew she was serious. She wanted to jump with excitment when she saw me hold her panties open and then step into them, but she remained like she was as I pulled them up my legs and passed my hips.

 

As soon as I had done that she unzipped her dress far enough that she could pull her arms free. “After you put on your bra your going to go into the bathroom and shave all that hair off of your legs!” She said as she unfastened the clasp so that the lace and satin bra slid down her arms. Just like she had done with her panties she held it out. I was still dazed as I gingerly took it from her. I pulled it around me and hooked it together, then pulled the straps up onto my shoulders.

 

She stepped closer to me and started to adjust the straps so it fit me. “I noticed you didn’t have any trouble getting it fastened closed!” She said in a teasing voice. “You must have had plenty of practice.” She added.

 

Once she was satisfied with how she had adjusted the straps she pointed toward the bathroom. “Now go shave off all that ugly hair.” She ordered, then she said. “Young ladies don’t have body hair sprouting out all over like that!”

 

She knew that she had made the correct judgement about me when she saw me start for the bathroom like she had ordered. In truth she didn’t know how right she was because I became very submissive when I was dressed.

 

Fifteen minutes later I was standing in front of her while she examined me. I had shaved my legs like she said, but I also shaved my chest, arms, armpits and had shaved around my now small triangular pubic area.

 

“Very good!” She said after looking me over. “Your looking more feminine already!” She said in an obvious attempt to embarrass me and when she saw that she had made me blush her confidence doubled.

 

“Go pick up the nylons I was wearing and put them on next!” She said with a nod. I didn’t waste any time complying and after my legs were encased in her nylons she made me put on her high heels. In just a couple of minutes I was standing in front of her again.

 

She let me stand like that for a little bit as she cupped and carressed her firm naked breasts. “Hmm. I like telling you what to do.” She coo’d in a sexy voice. “It makes my nipples hard.” She added.

 

After a bit she lowered her hands to her sides and then lifed her dress a couple of inches so the lacy hem of her slip peeked out from under it.

 

“Do you like my pretty slip sissy?” She asked, using that teasing tone of voice again. I told her that I liked it very much. “You want to wear it don’t you panty-waist?” She taunted.

 

Again I told her that she was correct. Hearing this she dropped her dress down so the slip was no longer exposed. “Then beg me to let you wear my slip sissy.” She told me. “I want to hear just how much you want to wear it!”

 

I slowly got onto my knees so she was towering over me. “Please Kelly let me wear your slip.” I begged. “I love slips and I’ve never worn one that had been worn by you first.” I pulled my panties up so that my cock was clearly visable under the front panel. I had been slowly getting harder and harder and now it was pretty close to being fully erect.

 

“Just look at how hard my cock is from me just thinking a about wearing your pretty slip. Please let me put it on and I promise to do whatever you say. Please!” I begged. She stood over me smiling for a little while, then she nodded. “Ok, you may take it off of me and put it on sissy.” She said, with a snicker. I gently reached up under her dress and carefully pulled her slip down her legs and then held it while she stepped out of it.

 

Once she had I eagerly slipped my feet into the waistband and then pulled it up into place. The lacy hem came to just above mid-thigh. “Oh you look so sexy in my bra, nylons, panties and slip!” She said softly. “So sexy you make me wet. My little sissy makes my pussy wet when he does what I tell him to do!” She said in an athoritative voice.

 

“I’m glad you think I’m a sexy.” I said meekly, then added. “And I love it when you tell me what to do.” She smiled when she heard me say that.

 

“Good.” she told me. “Because from now on I’m going to be telling you exactly what to do. Understand?” She asked. I lowered my head and then told her that I understood.

 

She pushed her dress down so it fell in a circular ring around her feet. Daintily she stepped out of the center of it. She told me to pull it up into place, but added that I shouldn’t zip it closed just yet. I worked the dress up over my hips, I had to tuck my slip back down afterward, then held it tightly around my middle.

 

Kelly had busied herself with something in a box, but now she turned so she was facing me again. “These are what I got you for your birthday sissy!” She said, holding out a pair of silicon breast forms. They were so realistic that they jiggled like jello whenever she moved her hands.

 

I felt them for a minute as I thanked her and after she handed them to me she pored a thick layer of super-glue on the back of each one. “You know what I want you to do.” She said as she snickered.

 

“I want you to push those breasts into place so they will be permanently glued to your chest.” She reached out and pulled the straps of my bra down off of my sholders, then pushed the satin and lace cups so they were forced a couple of inches lower then they would normaly be.

 

“Come on sissy.” She ordered sternly. “Glue those titties to your chest. I know you want to!” I slowly raised both breast forms up toward my chest. “That’s a good girl.” Kelly said to urge me on. When they were about an inch away from where my own breasts would be, if I had any, Kelly placed her spread hands on the nipple side of each one.

 

With increasing pressure she pushed them closer and closer until they were being firmly crushed aginst me. It only took a second for the super-glue to set. She pulled my hands away along with hers. I felt the expensive silicon breasts pull at my chest as they were allowed to hang freely on thier own.

 

She began to knead them with her fingers. “I don’t know how you would ever get them to come off.” She said happily. “But that’s ok, because this is how I want you to look.” She ordered me to pull my bra back up and then gave me permission to zip up my dress.

 

Once it was securly fastened closed Kelly stepped back and looked me over. She was now naked and I was wearing what she had been wearing just a short time ago. She spread her feet to about sholder width.

 

“I’m going to put make-up on you because I want to make you into as much of a woman as I can. But now while your still obviously nothing more then a sissyfied male I want to watch you eat my pussy.” She said forcing me to my knee’s.

 

“I can always remember what you looked like right now, because your never going to look this masculine again!” She added as she pulled my face tightly aginst her wet crotch.

 

Kelly had busied herself with something in a box, but now she turned so she was facing me again. “These are what I got you for your birthday sissy!” She said, holding out a pair of silicon breast forms. They were so realistic that they jiggled like jello whenever she moved her hands.

 

I felt them for a minute as I thanked her and after she handed them to me she pored a thick layer of super-glue on the back of each one. “You know what I want you to do.” She said as she snickered.

 

“I want you to push those breasts into place so they will be permanently glued to your chest.” She reached out and pulled the straps of my bra down off of my sholders, then pushed the satin and lace cups so they were forced a couple of inches lower then they would normaly be.

 

“Come on sissy.” She ordered sternly. “Glue those titties to your chest. I know you want to!” I slowly raised both breast forms up toward my chest. “That’s a good girl.” Kelly said to urge me on. When they were about an inch away from where my own breasts would be, if I had any, Kelly placed her spread hands on the nipple side of each one.

 

With increasing pressure she pushed them closer and closer until they were being firmly crushed aginst me. It only took a second for the super-glue to set. She pulled my hands away along with hers. I felt the expensive silicon breasts pull at my chest as they were allowed to hang freely on thier own.

 

She began to knead them with her fingers. “I don’t know how you would ever get them to come off.” She said happily. “But that’s ok, because this is how I want you to look.” She ordered me to pull my bra back up and then gave me permission to zip up my dress.

 

Once it was securly fastened closed Kelly stepped back and looked me over. She was now naked and I was wearing what she had been wearing just a short time ago. She spread her feet to about sholder width.

 

“I’m going to put make-up on you because I want to make you into as much of a woman as I can. But now while your still obviously nothing more then a sissyfied male I want to watch you eat my pussy.” She said forcing me to my knee’s.

 

“I can always remember what you looked like right now, because your never going to look this masculine again!” She added as she pulled my face tightly aginst her wet crotch.

 

Her response was to ram her hips forward a third time. She kept applying more pressure until her hips were pressing firmly into my ass cheeks. “You took all of me cunt!” She rudely told me. “I love the way you look bent over like you are and with my cock buried as deep as it can go into your pussy!” I felt her grab my hips with her hands. “Now I’m going to show you what it feels like when you get a good hard fucking!” I was gasping and pleading with her to be more gentle as she moved her hips away from me so her cock was withdrawn from my tummy.

 

But all of that stopped when she slammed it back into me, sinking all the way in with the one thrust. My legs were convulsing and my inner thighs felt as if they had been slashed with a sharp knife, but the stabbing, searing pain flooding out from my violated hole into my groin and cock was all I really felt.

 

Several more times she plowed into me like that, which left me laying under her like a limp rag. I was slipping in and out of reality as she started to steadily pump her cock in and out of my once virgin pussy. I regained my sense’s and was greated by the still painful sensation of her rythmic fucking.

 

“Oh you take it good bitch!” She moaned. “Your so nice and tight, just the way I like them.” She added. I felt her sink all the way into me and then hesitate for a moment, but then she picked right back up with the same ferious tempo. Several more times she hesitated like she did before.

 

I was still finding it hard to move my legs and I moaned when I felt her take my cock into her hand. She bent it back between my thighs and then pulled my panties back up where they belonged so that the crotchband kept it like that. I could only gasp when she began to use both hands to stroke along the narrow strip of my panties that passed between my legs.

 

She knew how to make the smooth nylon move over my imprisoned cock so that in less then sixty seconds I was almost ready to squirt my come right into my own panties. She sensed how close I was and she started to give my swollen cockhead a good working over.

 

“Come on bitch!” She yelled. “Come in your panties for me!” She forced the head of my cock down between my cheeks. “Show me how much of a slut you really are cunt!” She shouted. A couple of strokes later she began to spank my ass cheeks with her open hand right through my panties.

 

“I ordered you to come you little slut!” She said swatting me even harder then she had been. She wrapped her fingers around my shaft as far as my panties would allow, then she started stroking me from the front of my panites to back over the head.

 

She saw my inner thighs tense up right before my hot sticky fluid started to shoot out of my cock. That gave her time to slip one hand under the waistband and shove her fingers in front of my cock. This allowed her to catch every squirt on her fingers, which she proptly shoved into my well fucked hole.

 

In this manor she managed to force my pussy to be filled with my own sticky sperm. “Oh sissy!” She gasped. “I got hot thinking about your own come being forced into your pussy!” She said as she pulled my panties back down to my thighs. “So I’m going to have to fuck you again!” She said with a laugh.

 

“Oh god, you’ll kill me!” I cried out meekly, but I was suprised at how easily she sank into me.

 

“Your come makes a good lubrication bitch, just like all women’s pussy’s are suppost to do.” This time I actually felt myself pushing back to meet her forward thrusts.

 

“Oh Kelly, fuck me.” I begged. “Fuck my pussy good, fuck my pussy hard!” I gasped.

 

“You can count on it slut!” She gleefully told me. “You can count on it.”



Nov 201520

Coming to Terms With Transvestism

frequently asked questions
I am not a doctor or a psychiatrist, so what gives me the qualifications to write about transvestism? I write purely from experience, having been a heterosexual transvestite for many years... I first discovered the pleasure that cross dressing gave me during my early twenties, when I secretly donned some of my wife's underwear. The effect was immediate and resulted in an uncontrolled ejaculation, which in turn left me with a feeling of guilt and disgust. However, the desire to wear women's clothes became so great that those secret flights of fancy continued whenever the opportunity arose. Also I had become more adventurous and had purchased some clothing of my own: these of course had to be hidden, and so deceitfulness was added to my list of sins. Over the next ten years I was becoming increasingly frustrated by the enforced limited duration, and lack of opportunities, for my trips into my alter ego. Also I was becoming increasingly guilty about keeping the whole secret from my wife. So I decided to tell all, naively hoping she would understand and allow me to 'dress' at any time in the house. It obviously comes as a great shock for a wife to discover that her husband likes to prance about in ladies' undies. She did, however, agree to give it a try and I dressed myself in a skirt and jumper, and a pair of mule slippers. At this time I used neither a wig nor make-up and I realise now what a bizarre sight I must have presented. It was clearly not going to work, and if continued it would obviously cause a break up of the marriage. The only thing to do was to stop, put temptation behind me and live a 'normal', 'healthy' life - if only I had known then what I know now. During the next twelve months or so I became more and more irritable and unreasonable until I eventually I suffered a near nervous breakdown, confessed all to my doctor and finished up in the psychiatric ward of the local hospital. All this eventually cost me my job and my marriage. I will skip briefly over the next forty-odd years of my life, only to say that I did marry again, but this time I told my wife of my transvestite tendencies before my marriage. Cross Dressing On the whole it was a very happy partnership in all respects, my cross dressing continued but not in my wife's presence, and by arranging for her to have the odd week or two away on holiday now and then the frustration was contained. Although there were many times when I felt I must get away, the love for my wife was the thing that stopped me. My wife has recently died and I now live alone which gives me the opportunity to dress all day, three or four times a week, within the confines of my home. I have braved the outside world on a couple of occasions in the past, but only for a few hours and much as I would like to live completely as a woman, at seventy years of age I feel the disruption to my life would be too great.  
  f509_1262.jpgSo, having spent about fifty years seeing doctors and psychiatrists, taking tablets, considering suicide and doing other daft things, I offer the following as a possible aid to understanding transvestism, facing up to it and removing some of the shame and guilt you may feel in succumbing to your sexual fantasies: I hope it is of some help... Why do we want to cross dress? What determines our personality? Our genes, our upbringing, our experiences, our environment: all play a part in determining the kind of person we are. A traumatic experience can change our outlook on life but it is our basic personality or character, call it what you will, that determines our reaction to these things. Some people are aggressive, not necessarily in the physical sense, but in terms of their approach to life in general. Others are more submissive, and given the same environment and upbringing will react differently to the same set of circumstances. The point is: there are a number of inborn basic characteristics that do not change irrespective of any other outside influences, they merely change our reaction to them. Our sex is determined by our genes, so why should our sexuality not also be determined by some other factor in our genes, making us either heterosexual, homosexual or bisexual? I do not believe that one becomes homosexual or bisexual as a result of some outside experience. Carry this theory a little further and consider the cartoon character who believes he is Napolean, or the Elvis fan who dresses as, and mimics, his idol. These are fanatics who so worship their idol that they want to be that person. It is an inborn need to become the object of their desire, let's say the 'wannabe factor'. So now, let us first take the genes that have determined our sex, add the factor that has determined our sexuality and increase it's influence in our lives, and finally add the 'wannabe factor'. Bingo! You have the perfect recipe for a transvestite. Learning to live with it Are we abnormal? In terms of what is socailly acceptable, yes, we are abnormal, although the size of the mail order and personal shopping market indicates that we are a fairly large percentage of the population. We were born different (yes, I do believe the problem is genetic), as others are born with physical or mental disabilities. Whilst they are partially accepted into society, depending on the degree of their disability, we don't fit into a convenient slot, and society, on the whole, doesn't know how to deal with us. We are an embarrassment and therefore become the subject of snide jokes, ignored in the hope we go away, or in extreme cases hounded out of town.  
  f509_1263.jpgUnless you are fortunate enough to have the right stature and features, and can pass fairly easily when dressed and made-up as a female, it means the only outlet for us is the confines of our homes - we must not be found out, we would become outcasts. Should we feel guilt or shame? Providing what we do harms no other person, either physically or mentally, there should be no rational reason for feeling guilty. Neither should we feel ashamed of what we are, but unfortunately we feel ashamed of other peoples' perception of us. If we have the courage to 'come out', as many do and eventually become if not totally accepted then tolerated, then our shame and guilt would disappear. But this is the real world and unless you are fortunate enough to be able, physically, to pass as a woman then the stress and strain of continually being looked upon as a 'freak' may mean we have traded in one set of problems only to be confounded by another. Coming Out I am sure we all often feel the frustration of having to limit our activities to the confines of the home and would dearly love to 'come out' and damn the consequences. If only we could be found out and the decision made for us, life would be so much easier. But beware, speaking from experience I can tell you that unless you intend to go all the way, being accidentally found out only compounds the problem and you can be left with the task of having to rebuild your life. My advice to any of you having the courage to 'come out' is: do it sooner rather than later, it will never get easier. Will it go away? As stated earlier, I believe that transvestism is inborn and not the result of a childhood environment. or the fact that when you were a lad some nasty man put his hand down your trousers one night in the cinema. I can look back to when I was about five or six years old and remember the fascination I had with young ladies and girls, which of course could be said to be quite normal (our sensuality is alive and well from a very early age). But I can see now that what I felt was different. I seemed to envy their femininity. What must be appreciated is that although cross dressing is something from which we can derive great pleasure and release, once satisfied the urge returns in a relatively short space of time. The major part of your life is dominated by this desire for femininity and I can assure you it does not go away.  
  f509_1264.jpgI am afraid that we must all find our own salvation. Some may be fortunate and find a satisfactory solution, but whatever you do, try and obey the following rules: The Golden rule. Don't harm any other person, either mentally or physically. Know yourself and be honest with yourself. Don't feel guilt / shame. Accept youself for what you are. Don't marry unless you find a partner who is prepared (or even pleased!) to accept your cross dressing. If you do decide to come out and/or have the op, do it sooner rather than later. The compulsion to 'dress' transcends all other considerations and this is where we must be careful that our actions do not have a damaging and irreversible effect on our lives, or on the lives of those dearest to us. In these circumstances, the quick temporary solution is - to put it bluntly - masturnation. But this is not what we want. We want to savour the feeling of being dressed as a woman, and we want that feeling to last, not supress it. It is in these moments of almost fanatical desire that we must be thankful that we are neither rapists nor paedophiles. These people are obviously driven by an uncontrollable urge to act in the way they do, but as their actions have a serious effect on other people's lives they must be forcibly restrained from acting out their urges. Thinking along these lines, and no doubt we all do at times, can make us feel what a thin line we tread between the obscene and the deviate. Much as we rightly revile the actions of these people, we have a much better understanding of the emotions that drive them to commit their offences. Do not despair or castigate yourself for having this affliction - and affliction it is. At least we can live a normal life in all other respects, and the worst that can happen is that we become an object of ridicule.

Nov 201520

Free Personal Advisory Services

frequently asked questions, how to guides

Free Personal Advisory Services

Are You * New to Cross Dressing? * Inexperienced at dressing realistically? * Looking for a change of image? * Wanting professional help and advice? * Needing confidence building before venturing out in public? Then this is the free service for you! Here at Transformation we are sensitive to the fact that some of our customers simply don't know "where to start" when it comes to dressing. We have a simple answer and it's completely free! Simply visit one of our Transformation Shops and let a mature image consultant gently guide you. In the privacy of our changing rooms she will select for you all the products to magically mould your feminine hourglass curves. It will exceed all expectations. Because we passionately believe all cross dressers should have the opportunity to visualise their feminine potential and enjoy the sensation of wearing silicone breasts and foundation garments we are offering this service FREE OF CHARGE. This discreet facility which takes about 30 minutes is available at your nearest Transformation shop and you do not need to book an appointment. Simply walk in and ask - this is a wonderful opportunity to see that woman of your dreams - YOU! "Transformation, thank you for a wonderful experience, to feel truly feminine was a big boost for my self esteem. I enjoyed my day immensely. There is something really nice about being feminine and I have embarked on my journey to achieving the ultimate in grace, beauty, gentleness and of course perfection." Diane Check out pictures of our Changeaway Services Free Feminine Hormone Advisory Service DO YOU * Dream of growing your own breasts? * Want to reduce your beard and body hair? * Desire soft skin and a natural womanly shape? * Want to feel more womanly inside? * Need informal counselling? * Require guidance because of gender identity issues? * Need information about the Albany Identity Clinic? Then this free service is for you! For many years Transformation has been fulfilling the the hope and dreams of many men who want to feminise their own body. Our shops stock a wide range of feminising hormones which will help you to achieve the desired effects. Top of the list are the new maxi-strength hormone range now available without a doctor's prescription. Naturally having so much choice, it can be an overwhelming decision to decide which are the most suitable products for you. Simply visit your nearest Transformation Shop and we will advise you on a personal programmes for your needs (remember all the products are safe, can be used discreetly and will not interfere with your masculinity) We want you to be completely satisfied. If ever we fail please let us know immediately and give us the chance to put it right.

Nov 201520

Myths about Transvestism

frequently asked questions
MYTH: ALL transvestites are gay. FALSE. Since the Drag Queen and transvestic prostitute are highly visible members of the social picture and dramatized on the evening television news, occasionally in television "dramas" and the print media the "average" transvestite is, naturally tarred with the same brush even though in truth few "average" TVs are gay or engage in same-sex sex acts. In fact, MOST transvestites are heterosexual while only a small minority are bi-sexual or exclusively homosexual. This latter statement is supported by the results of a study done by Dr. Wardell Pomeroy (co-author of the famous "Kensey Reports" and director of the San Francisco based Institute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality) which found that 68% of cross-dressing males are exclusively heterosexual while only 50% of non-cross-dressing males are exclusively heterosexual. It should also be pointed out that some gay males are also, incidentally, transvestites but do not crossdress for the purpose of attracting males, either gay or straight for sexual purposes. MYTH: A transvestite is a potential transsexual. FALSE. The opinion that transvestites are latent, undeveloped or potential transsexuals, is false. Any other form of ignorance is the result of oversimplification and the failure to make distinctions. It IS true both the transvestite and transsexual wear feminine clothing, but they do so for different purposes. While the transvestite often dresses for the physical pleasure of this form of fetishism he always retains or reverts back to and maintains his male gender-identity. It is also true that many transvestites, upon initially bursting forth from their closet assume, because of the lack of information on the subject, they are transsexual. But a TRUE transvestite is quite happy to retain his male gender-role and perform sexually as a male -- although he may OCCASIONALLY fantasize he is the female partner. Definition and Description of Transvestism. It is of the utmost importance to establish the distinctions between transsexualism and transvestism. Originally, a transsexual (TS) was thought to be a type of transvestite (TV). Outside of the fact both dress in apparel normally reserved for opposite physically gendered individuals, although for different purposes and reasons, and, to a certain point in life, live in constant fear of discovery, they have very little in common. Strictly speaking the transsexual is NOT cross-dressing when she wears feminine clothing. Rather SHE cross dresses by wearing masculine clothing to conform with Society's dress code for the physical male. The bi-gendered or cross-gendered person (both the TS and the TV) may start, as early in life as perhaps age 5 years wearing items of opposite sex apparel. Often the apparel worn/used, usually lingerie, are items of mother's or a sister taken either from the laundry or their fresh clothing supply. Occasionally, in early stages, lingerie will be purchased for personal use. It is NOT unusual for the transvestite to use items of feminine apparel as sexual gratification aids in the early stages of sexual awakening. This practice may continue into late adulthood. Occasionally an item or type of apparel, such a bra or panties, or garter-belt and hose, etc., may become a fetish item and required to be worn for, or at least close at hand during, completion of the sex act. Cross-genderists are secretive, because their life-styles are not considered, by non-participants, socially acceptable.
  A transvestic male identifies primarily as a male who has and retains male gender-identity. Often the transvestite is married and the father of children. The transvestite seldom, voluntarily, confesses his need to cross-dress to his spouse, usually because of the fear of non-acceptance and the resultant rejection, although some women not only accept crossdressing and the associated behavior but seek out males having those needs and traits and actively participate in the "game" -- sometimes with each partner reversing roles, not only in social, but in sexual, situations. Some TVs profess to be alternately or intermittently bi-gendered, although most of the time they feel and behave like a normal male. A transvestite is satisfied with being a male and generally enjoys the role. It is possible for a transvestite to adopt the female gender-role while retaining his male gender-identity, but THAT is a rare combination. Transvestites DO NOT, by definition, want sex reassignment surgery, although a sizable proportion self-diagnose as transsexual when they initially burst forth from "the closet". Thankfully, saner heads prevail and irreversible reassignment surgery does not occur. (One of the logical reasons for the frustrating, to the true TS, waiting period and Real Life Test.) A transvestite is, usually, a heterosexual male having a periodic or episodic, sometimes fetishistic, urge to dress in opposite sex clothing. The feminine apparel apparently reinforces the male gender-identity and may intensify male sexual satisfaction. The subconscious mind, apparently, associates dressing in opposite sex apparel with women as sex objects and their own formative male sexual drive; it became imprinted with the same mechanisms which form other fetishes such as the shoe fetish, the panty fetish, the leg fetish, the breast fetish or a fetish for other parts of the female body. A transvestic fetish is intensified by virtue of the fact that, by actually wearing the fetish items (of feminine apparel) the transvestite is in intimate proximity of, and contact, with the objects. He, often, derives sensual pleasure from the feminine quality of the fabrics; he is reminded of his REAL sex object (the female body) through the simulation of the outward presence of a woman, and he can take satisfaction in the dissemblance of knowing he is REALLY a man under the feminine finery. Transvestites are, perhaps, more rejected even more than transsexuals because the TS at least attempts to accommodate Society by changing to a full-time apparent, and as completely as possible to a, woman while the transvestite switches mode of dress, if not role, back and forth adding confusion to, at least, his visible gender-identity. Article from http://www.rainbowtrail.info/sept4.html

Nov 201520

Susan's First Adventure - Transgender Fiction

short story
But when I turned 13 I suddenly became more serious. I wanted to wear underwear, jewellery and make-up. I wanted people to pass me in the street and look at the sensible young girl across the road. I had wonderful fun working out the order in which the clothes went on and feeling the beautiful constricture of a bra for the first time. After about 18 months of bunking off school or pretending to be ill and sneaking into my mother's wardrobe I wanted to go out dressed. My opportunity came one cold November afternoon. I had been left in the house on my own with the certainty that I would not be disturbed until early evening. My only task was to walk the dog. On hearing the front door close I decided to start the day again en femme. I went to bed in a nightie for a cat-nap and woke up and had a bath. I then went over to my mother's dressing table and applied make-up, mascara, eye shadow and lipstick, none too expertly. Having put my face on I put on a pair of earrings and a pearly necklace. I then dived into the wardrobe, desperate to transform myself from a gangly teenager to a gamine young woman with a taste for sensible clothes. I stuffed my white bra with a pair of socks, put on a pair of matching panties and dark blue tights and a lovely slip with a lace trim around the hem. I then chose a white chiffon blouse with bell sleeves and a long bow at the collar and a dark blue pleated skirt. I donned a pair of dark blue patent leather court shoes and after choosing a handbag I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I looked so feminine it was ridiculous to think of me as anything else. It was then downstairs to find a suitable coat and headscarf (well it was the 1970s and I did not have a wig) to protect me against the cold.
    Closing the back door behind me with the, rather bewildered, dog on the lead, I felt the cold wind in my skirts - it was delicious and I felt a quiet gasp of pleasure at this sudden vulnerability and internalising, all- pervading femininity. I felt my movements grow calmer. If someone had spoken to me at that moment my voice would have been higher and softer. Sneaking out the back gate I looked both ways and seeing there was nobody about I ventured out with quick short steps. As I got used to walking and gained confidence I began to mince a little. I loved the fact that it was cold and that I was being kept warm by wonderful women's clothes. I walked for miles, slowly gaining the confidence to walk on the same side of the road as passers-by. A rather alarming incident occurred when another dog started to pay attention to mine and its owner, a middle-aged man, seemed to want to engage in conversation about canine matters. I smiled sweetly and nodded my head a few times and carried on. I don't think he ever twigged. I was so ecstatic I could have skipped. It was beginning to get dark and it was time to head for home before the nightmare scenario of my parents and siblings being in the house whilst I, dressed up to the nines, was outside. I walked home quickly nervously checking to see whether any cars had returned before me. Had there been I do not know what I would have done apart from go into a quiet, blind panic. Waving mischievously to the old lady across the road in the semi-darkness I slipped through the back gate and into the house. The house seemed very hot after the cold of outside.
    I hung up my coat and scarf in the cloakroom and went upstairs and undressed, taking care to put everything away exactly as I had found it. I then had another bath to wash off all the make-up and whilst I was in the bath the rest of the household returned. "Could you leave the bath in," came my mother's voice through the door. "Yes," I said. "Did walk the dog?" "Oh yes." I said more dreamily. "She had a good walk." As I thought of the blissful last few hours I sank back into the bath and I am afraid did what teenagers do in bathrooms. That night my parents were going out. I had to smile when I saw my mother dressed in exactly the same clothes as I had been wearing only a couple of hours before. I thought she looked lovely and showed great taste. My first outdoor experience dressed as a woman remains to this day my finest.

Nov 201520

About Payment and Ordering

frequently asked questions, how to guides

ABOUT PAYMENT AND ORDERING

Payment options

 

VISA CREDIT & DEBIT CARDS

MASTERCARD CREDIT & DEBIT CARDS

AMERICAN EXPRESS

INTERBANK TRANSFERS

C.O.D (within the Euro Monetary Zone)

EURO & STERLING CHEQUES

CASH (BY REGISTERED POST ONLY)

POSTAL ORDERS

( We do not accept USA/Canada Money Order)

All parcels are securely wrapped & contain no exterior clue as to their contents. In 28 years we have shipped to EVERY country in the world with just some exceptions*

UPS EXPRESS

ROYAL MAIL FIRST CLASS

C.O.D (within the Euro Monetary Zone

How long will it take to receive my order?

We despatch 96% of all orders within 24 hours. The delivery time depends on your location and the method of delivery chosen. UK- 1st Class Royal Mail – 2 days UK- UPS Express- Next Day( excludes Saturday) Please Note UK- excludes all Channel Islands) E.U- 1st Class Royal Mail- 4 to 14 days E.U- UPS Express- upto 3 days Please Note E.U Includes all Channel Islands. USA+CANADA- 1ST Class Royal Mail- 7 to 28 days USA+CANADA- UPS Express – upto 4 days. ALL Other Countries- UPS Express upto 7 days.

How can I order without a credit card?

You can browse the site as normal, adding items to your shopping cart, and then choose 'print out your order' from the shopping cart screen. You can then post your order to us with appropriate payment - for example, personal cheque, bankers draft, postal order or International Money Order.   All Cheques/Checks , Postal Orders and Bankers Drafts must be made payable to “SERCUS LIMITED”. We are sorry but we cannot accept USA/Canada Money Orders   INTERBANK TRANSFERS Here are our Bank Account Details;   Name Of Bank- BARCLAYS BANK Address P.O. Box 1330, Flint, United Kingdom, CH65WJ. Bank Account Number   83515192 Bank Sort Code 20-25-69     For Payments in £ GBP Sterling IBAN number is GB17 BARC 2025 6983 515192 SWIFTBIC number is BARCGB22.     For Payments in € euros IBAN number is GB65 BARC 2025 6989 0654 44 SWIFTBIC number is   BARCGB22     For Payments in $ USD US Dollars IBAN number is GB52 BARC 2025 6972 5200 00 SWIFTBIC number is BARCGB22      

How discreetly are parcels sent, and how is it shown on my credit card statement?

All our goods are sent in plain packaging and there is a return address on the back: Sercus Ltd and our UK head office in Manchester. Your credit card statement will show a payment to Sercus Ltd and all cheques and money orders can also be made out to Sercus Ltd.

 

How do I order an item from your catalogue that isn't on the website?

Please DO NOT send your credit card details by email - this is not secure. If you visit here you can enter your order using the same security level as our online ordering. We would need your name, address, credit card type/number/expiry date, telephone number and the items you wish to order. Don't forget to include postage costs in your total (rates are shown at the top of this page).

Returns and Refunds

You may return unused and unopened products within 7 days for alternative items, less postage costs. In the event of a product or item being faulty, defective items will be replaced with a similar or alternative item. N.B. US customers please do not return goods via UPS Delivery, if you are unsure please contact our Customer Services Department for more information.

Cash On Delivery Service

Did you know you can pay for your order on delivery? Click here for details

User Menu