As I look in the mirror, who do I see A reflection of the woman that I want to be. Born into a body that fights every day To keep all of my feminine feelings at bay.   Living my life as someone I am not Lying and cheating, this has to stop I have to be true, hold my head high Be who I am, no longer have to lie.   Slowly and gently I take hold of the reins To steer myself onwards, break free from these chains. Achieving acceptance from family and friends Each day is a bonus as my heartache now ends.   I now look in the mirror, who do I see The reflection of the woman I wanted to be Comfortable in my body, happy and free When I look in the mirror, I just see me.

Crossdresser Story

Ever since I can remember, I've been drawn towards femininity, from wearing my mum's silk nightdress when I was just four, tottering around in oversized heels and making a colourful mess of my face at the dressing table. It was good, it was girly, it was me... but it was wrong, or so I thought! I was a boy, and dressing up with makeup was for girls. But it was also so very right for the crossdressing transvestite within me. So my anxieties didn't stop me from my early experimentation, trying different lipsticks, playing with eye shadows and mascara, and looking on enviously as girls got to wear the clothes that I wanted to wear. The only girl's clothes in the house belonged to my mum, and they were far too big: not right the crossdressing transvestite clothes for me. Even then I just wanted to feel absolutely right as a girl: truly feminine and stylish. I remember growing up not knowing anything about being a crossdressing transvestite. I just remember liking girl stuff. Then, I saw a film on the television: to this day I don't know the name of the film, but it's had a long-lasting impression on me. It was about a man, who met and befriended some crossdressers. It was set in the 1930s. He was ‘straight’ (whatever that means), and they slowly brought him into their world with a little peer pressure, bit by bit. For him being a crossdressing transvestite started with a loan of a lipstick; he tried it, enjoyed it, and was a little turned on. When they met, they'd ask questions, and lipstick became mascara, blusher, eye shadow ... he tried a dress for the first time, stirring those crossdressing transvestite emotions deep within him: it was exciting, now for heels, lingerie, the hair and nails ... eventually, he was meeting his friends as a woman, he had ‘changed’ and it was natural. This moment was a life-changing not just for the man in the film but for me too. I didn't know other people felt the same; I hadn't heard of a crossdressing transvestite before and certainly didn't connect myself to being one. I needed to know more about this incredible world. These were the days before the Internet. The mere thought of being a crossdressing transvestite was taboo. Alone with only the memories of the film and a growing urge to become more feminine myself. But I wasn't gay: I don't fancy men. I was confused and didn’t understand. I always had a strange feeling of being a woman in a previous life, and drawn to a certain style of crossdressing transvestite clothes: long skirts, corsetry, long hair pulled back. Then I saw crossdressing transvestite adverts in papers: telephone numbers to call and speak to someone like me. This was too much to resist and I started calling other crossdressing transvestites just to chat. I'd dress up as a crossdressing transvestite as much as I could when my parents were out of the house, and just enjoy feeling complete. Then as I grew up, and started going out with girls, I'd be dating the girls I wanted to be! My crossdressing transvestite dream girls! I'd be attracted by their hair, clothes and makeup, and at times, and sometimes even tried some of their clothes without them knowing. I got a job and started earning money, but I couldn't buy my own crossdressing transvestite clothes. I had nowhere to put them. All the time, I was still one of the lads, I had many girlfriends and I kept my crossdressing transvestite secret hidden. I suppressed it for a while. I got married and have a wonderful wife and a couple of great kids. I love them dearly, but I still have the same inner feelings! I now know so much more of this crossdressing transvestite world. It's helped me understand that I'm not alone and that it's ok!! However, being a crossdressing transvestite is not something I'm willing to share with anyone - there's just too much for me to lose! I've tried the occasional dressing service for a makeover. I've bought makeup and heels the occasional dress, and become my true identity ‘Cassie’ every now and again when I'm in a hotel overnight away with work. But I always get a guilty feeling, a thought of I shouldn't be doing this. And when I look in the mirror, it's not the same crossdressing transvestite girl that's in my head. I want to enjoy my crossdressing transvestite life, and it's not hurting anyone if they don't know! But it's really difficult not being able to share Cassie with anyone! I've often had a fantasy of being kidnapped, and transformed into a woman against my will, and having to live my life out as Cassie: my delicious crossdressing transvestite dream! I'd stumbled across feminization hypnosis by chance, and saw a link to JJ at 'Dress Me Up'. Well, my first thought was, “She's absolutely stunning; she wears clothes that I could only dream about and her makeup is to die for.” I realised at that moment that I would have to meet her. Could she help me become the crossdressing transvestite girl I'd dreamed about my whole life? Could she help get rid of the guilty feelings and give me the feminine outlet for which I craved? I put it off a few times and then plucked up the courage to call. She so understood right away and made me feel so at ease on that first tentative telephone call, that I couldn't wait to meet her and help find Cassie together. I booked a crossdressing transvestite appointment, and couldn't wait to get there. I booked a day off work but planned to travel overnight, allowing myself the luxury of going straight to a hotel after my visit. I pulled up outside her apartment, my heart racing by this point, and called to say I'd arrived. I knocked at the door, and when it opened I met my JJ for the first time. She was gentle, supportive, understanding ... and so completely sexy and appealing to all the senses: true sensuality with wonderful clear-headed intelligence and fun-loving personality to match. We sat and talked about Cassie, who she was, what she liked, what clothes, makeup, look, feel, her deepest desires ... I was in heaven, I haven't been able to talk like this with anyone in my whole life, and I had four fabulous hours ahead of me. This was the start of my crossdressing transvestite dream becoming a reality. I stripped from my male clothes and stepped into the crossdressing transvestite unknown. I was guided to the bathroom, a bathroom with candles, feminine scents, perfumes, and cleansing lotions and face masks, I was about to start my journey, the crossdressing transvestite journey to find out who I am, who Cassie is. After cleansing my face, JJ had run me a luxurious bubble bath. I climbed in. I've had bubble baths before, but this was different, my senses were heightened with the depth of my anticipation. JJ brought me a glass of champagne and applied a facemask, to deep cleanse my face for my crossdressing transvestite makeover: delicious! I stepped from the bath, dried myself and pulled on a beautiful and feminine silken robe, stepped into the heeled slipper and I'm sure I glided into the boudoir. This was genuinely intoxicating, and I felt so at ease, chatting with JJ as if we'd been girlfriends for years. As I sat in the boudoir, we chatted about the crossdressing transvestite look I was going for. I'm a girly girl, not a tart or diva, so wanted just to feel as feminine as I could. I'd asked for some false nails, I've always wanted long nails, painted … so feminine. JJ had bought some for me, but didn't have any sticking pads, only glue ... acetone was used to remove them later. Well, I had business meetings the next day and had to drive to London, I couldn't run the risk of them getting stuck!

But, at that moment, I was becoming Cassie. The crossdressing transvestite atmosphere, the femininity of JJ’s boudoir and everything about the moment said to do it, be as feminine as you can be, enjoy it and live with whatever comes, it was titillating, exciting. The rush of crossdressing transvestite adrenaline I had when I said "do it" was a moment that will live with me forever! JJ asked if I was sure, but there was no turning back I wanted so much to be a woman at that point being a crossdressing transvestite scared and excited me in one go. As each nail was applied and glued in place, I started to feel like a girl. I changed inside, I felt Cassie taking over, I can't describe it, JJ kept winking at me, and I loved every crossdressing transvestite minute! My nails were on, and they felt like they were never coming off, we painted them, and my toenails, and then it was time to apply my makeup. The feeling of having foundation applied, powder, eyebrows pencilled, blusher, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara and then lipstick was my every crossdressing transvestite fantasy, I now felt like a woman. I had desires I'd never known before. I wanted my dress and heels, I wanted my breasts to grow, and oh, how I wanted to stay like that forever. And perhaps the strangest sensation of all: I wanted a man: I was a woman and it was utterly delicious. Being with JJ had allowed me to go beyond being a crossdressing transvestite into true femininity. Don’t ask me to explain! My time that crossdressing transvestite afternoon with my JJ was the happiest few hours I've had in a long time, and only JJ and I know about it. This is only the start of my journey to find Cassie, but it's a journey I'm going to share with JJ. I can trust her, and she knows what I want, she'll help me get there. It was good, it was girly, it was me ... and it was so right!

My First Time Visiting  Bath

Mirror Mirror – A Short Story

The last night of the village pantomime, Sleeping Beauty had been a resounding success. The director had whipped us into shape and it had exceeded all our wild expectations. My part in the production had been insignificant, I was a stage hand, painting the scenery but the director Emelda had taken pity of me and promoted me to “ Gofer” If she needed anything I got it !! It had been my responsibility to place the mirror on the stage. No one else was permitted to touch it or even look into it. To my surprise she had also cast me to make the mirrors replies. The groans from the other cast members made me blush. I had had a disastrous debut in a previous production and had sworn to never appear on stage again. Emelda persuaded me though. By the time the show came round I was entranced by her and she had asked me to rehearse with her. I had learned all the mirrors lines by heart and when we practiced together all my nerves disappeared. Despite the age difference we were close and my crush was huge !! and I found myself opening up to her and telling her everything about me. On the opening night she found me in a corner by myself. She sat next to me still resplendent in her stage makeup that emphasised her hypnotic blue eyes and the figure hugging black velvet dress that did the same for her body. I was jealous of her husband that much was obvious !! Her arm rested on my shoulder. “ It’s always the same after a successful show. I’ll tell you what, go home and take my mirror with me. After we’ve cleared the stage tomorrow you bring the mirror to my house and I’ll show you the play I’ve chosen for the summer. I think there will be a small part for you” As I hurried home clutching the precious mirror. Exhausted I began to undress but felt an irrestible urge to look into the mirror. As I stared at myself I could see my bare shoulders. Not broad as  I longed for but slim and delicate like a girl. My eyes switched back to my face and I felt more atrractive than I ever had before. My lips had become fuller and pinker. A straggly eyebrow had disappeared and the brows seemed more prettily arched than before.  I felt a flush of excitement. I could not believe this feminine face in the mirror was me but it was !! Now I could see bra straps running across bare shoulders and interesting moulds entrapped within delicate white lace at her chest. Glancing down at my own chest I was shockingly disappointed to find nothing there. Disturbing dreams of the girl in the mirror intruded into my sleep. Who was she? How had she appeared in the mirror ?? Why was she so like me ? I arrived back at the theatre to clear up but Emelda ignored me. As the rest of the cast went off to the pub she offered me a lift. She lived in a remote farmhouse about a mile away and we completed the journey in silence. I was going to ask her who she thought the girl in the mirror was. We had a light lunch and I discovered she was no longer married and in her mid forties. It was on a visit to a foreign country that she bought the mirror. “ No one looked in it did they??” She asked. Within minutes I was confessing what had happened the night before. Her pale blue eyes darkened as I told her. Her voice was soft and bewitching when she answered “ And who do you think it was ? “ My masculine ego denied my interest. “ It must have been my imagination, I have always wanted a sister” I noticed during this denial that was voice had lowered as if to underline my masculinity. To my surprise she got the new script put and suggested we do a rad through with each other. Emelda was keen for us to a particular scene together which turned out to be a love scene between 2 women!! “ Surely we aren’t going to perform this in the village ?” I stammered She laughed, “ I don’t think the village is ready for this yet do you ? ! “ “ I just wanted to see if you could get into character -well done !!” “ Lets try again and this time try the voice you used for the mirror – remember you’re a sexy, young woman determined to seduce an older woman. “ We repeated the scene stopping just short of the climax where the two women embrace passionately. “ Martin you’re nearly there ! You have to believe you’re Lizzie. Discard your masculinity and be this girl with all her memories and feelings” The words hung in the air between us and I longed to get to the part where they embraced. But Emelda wouldn’t let it get that far until I was fully into the character. “ Look your character is returning from a nightclub. She’s a little tipsy, sexily dressed and frustrated. You know what its like to be frustrated don’t you ?” This was it. This was my chance that every young man dreams of – an invitation from a  sexy, older woman. She read my thoughts and smiled. “ There is one way – but it isn’t fair….” She hesitated and then went on” you do want to get it right don’t you ?” Once again I gulped in excitement and nodded. Her suggestion that I borrow a blouse and skirt from her to get into character shocked me at first but the promise of those passionate embraces and what they might lead to induced a heady recklessness. Throwing all caution to the wind I agreed. Purely for the sake of the art of course !!

MOTORWAY FLIRTATION - A Short Story

It was a glorious bright sunny spring day. The road stretched out in front of me over the rolling countryside. I pressed the accelerator and the wonderful surge of power as my small open-top sports car swung out to overtake a sedate family saloon. My hair streamed in the breeze and the chiffon scarf knotted loosely round my throat fluttered gaily in the slipstream as I bombed up the hill towards the motorway junction. I glanced down at my legs, encased in the sheer gossamer nylons, lovely long legs to give a girl confidence when she goes out in public. My short black leather mini skirt had ridden up slightly exposing more of my elegant long legs. My breasts swelled proudly to burst the confines of the lacy bra and tight white blouse. I glanced in the mirror and the face I saw reflected was that of a pretty girl, eyebrows plucked, eyelashes mascaraed, cheeks blushed, lips plump and glossy. Yes, I felt desirable, confident in my femininity and looking forward to a splendid day out in my newly acquired sporty two-seater. Who knows what adventures await me! I had every reason to be pleased with myself. It was not often I could indulge my desire to dress in the clothes of the sex I most desired to join. And I had carefully planned this day out for some weeks. Oh the joy of shopping for the clothes I would wear and the make-up to go with them. Last night I had spent hours doing my nails, my hair, plucking my eyebrows, making all the preparations which could be safely done in advance. And early this morning, clad in my new silk negligee, I had spent over an hour at my dressing table, applying make-up before wriggling into my suspender belt and mini skirt, bra and blouse, and enjoying the sensuous pleasure of rolling on my new 10 denier nylons. As I joined the slip road a large van was in the slow lane of the main motorway and I had to slow down to let him pass me before I could edge out into the traffic. I say traffic, but this particular morning it was exceptionally light. As the large van passed me I was conscious of the driver looking at me. From his height in the driving cab he no doubt got an eyeful of me in my low slung car. Doubtless he could see my legs fully revealed below the tight mini skirt. I pulled onto the motorway and out into the fast lane to overtake the van. As I did so I could see the drivers face in the mirror watching my car (and me) and as I passed him he looked out of his side window. His lips moved to shape a wolf whistle. I ignored him and drove ahead for about half a mile and then I decided to a little fun. I pulled back into the slow lane and allowed my speed to drop to a sedate forty. In my mirror I watched as the van quickly gained on me and them pulled out to over-take. As he passed he was looking sideways at me, a big grin on his face. The van pulled in some yards ahead and reduced speed. Again I could see his face in the van’s large wing mirror and could see the look of anticipation on his face as he waited for another view of the fast girl in the sports car. This time I gave him a good view. I wriggled slightly in the driving seat so that the mini skirt rose another tantalising centimetre to partly reveal the suspenders and my nylons, and as I passed I gave him a long look moistening my lips with my suggestively with my tongue. As I passed, he gave me a wave. Again I pulled back into the slow lane and allowed him to catch up. He didn’t take long over it. The van came bombing up behind me as though about to sweep me off the road, then settled down to follow me closely. Another half mile and I gave him a wave to overtake. As he did so, he waved back and I blew him a tantalising kiss. Almost immediately he slowed down again ahead of me and once again I pulled out to overtake. This time I drove alongside and level with his cab for two or three miles, occasionally  glancing up at him and tugging ineffectively at the hem of my skirt as though to affirm my modesty. Then I pulled ahead and drove fast, putting a considerable distance between me and the van and yet keeping him within sight in my mirror. The road signs indicated the approach to another intersection, and as I drew level with the 300 metre sign I switched on my indicators to show an intention to turn off the motorway, at the same time slowing down considerably. Seconds later as I eased into the slip-road I was gratified to see the van’s indicators also signalling and he came up the slip road in pursuit. At the junction I paused, just sufficient time to let him catch me up. Then I let in the clutch and shot forward across the intersection and onto the slip road that led to the motorway. As I re-joined the motorway, I could see the van following me down the slip road. Back on the main carriage way, I again eased back into the slow lane and allowed him once again to catch up and overtake. Bu now he was signalling wildly as though to pull onto the hard shoulder and intermittently flagging me down with his arm. But I maintained my speed behind him and then, as another intersection approached, I ignored his implied invitation to pull off and become better acquainted, but flashed him with my headlights and zoomed past him at full throttle. When I finally lost sight of him I took the next intersection and ended the flirtation. He is no doubt still regretting the loss of the sporty girl who might have pulled off and indulged in a little hanky-panky in the cab of his vehicle. I drove on happy to have played fast and loose with a fellow like any flirtatious girl. Well, after all, that’s precisely how I felt.

Objects of Desire - Stockings and Suspenders

This is one of life’s pleasurable things. So soft and delicate, clinging like a second skin. There is something wonderful about slowly rolling a new stocking up your leg. It must be done slowly. Like all pleasures it should be savoured.   Transvestism thrives on the differences between men and women’s clothing. The sock is coarse and the stocking is sheer. The sock doesn’t advance beyond the shin. The stocking clings intimately to our thighs.

A sock is something you use but with a stocking it is like a relationship. Like a lover. You need your nails to be smooth to avoid snagging. Be careful  - don’t tug.   Suspenders too are sensual. Fastening them in place a delight. Position them carefully. They must not grip the welt not the sheer fabric beneath. Slide the suspender into place. Feel it take the tension. I love it !!   30 years after stockings and suspenders were “replaced “ by tights lots of women still have them in their drawers and on their legs. The appeal continues and not just for Transvestites. Possibly the most sexy pictures I’ve ever seen was in a glossy women’s magazine. It was an “ I want to be that girl” sexiness. These mags exist to sell clothes, makeup, perfume, anything feminine. They are in the business of making the reader want to be that girl. The point is that stockings and suspenders can ooze sex appeal to women as well as men. The sexiness for me is about the fact that they are hidden.

The image of a girl adjusting her suspender is so sexy and only she will know she’s wearing them. “ I want to be that girl"   The Transvestite is in a privileged position. We can place ourselves in the private world of the woman. This is especially satisfying when stepping out with suspenders out with suspenders and stocking tops hidden under our skirts. We know but no one else does. When looking at ourselves in the mirror we are both the man and woman looking on at the sexy image we see before us.  It’s no wonder w love mirrors so much.

It’s not just about looking good, it’s how they make us feel too. The feeling when we roll them in is so great. Even better when the suspenders take the tension. Stockings are sexy and practical !! Sex with both if you in  stockings comes highly recommended. The friction of nylon upon nylon  - WOW !! Wearing feminine clothes is a very special experience. They say the most fun you can have with your clothes on. Let’s pamper ourselves and as far as I’m concerned that includes stockings and suspenders. They’re great !!!

Self Portrait In A Straw Hat

On my infrequent visits to London whenever I can steal a few moments for my private pleasure, I pay a fleeting visit to the National Gallery and head immediately for the same room. There on the left, just as you enter is a small canvas painted by Elizabeth Louise Vigee Le Brun a French  female artist who lived from 1755 – 1842 in Paris. I know very little of her life or of her other paintings. The National Gallery possesses one other painting by her but it does not compare in merit with her self portrait wearing a straw hat.  

Expression

  She stares straight out of her portrait at the viewer. Her expression is challenging. There is a half smile about her lips and her eyes are clear, almost calculating as she gazes into what I presume is a mirror. She holds the palette in her left hand protruding through the hole and the bulk of the palette resting on her arm.   But the painting is not being done at the moment depicted. No woman would risk spoiling her clothes without a smock to protect them. She so obviously enjoys being a woman and wearing her finery. He depicts herself in a dusky pink low cut dress with a gathered bodice and trimmed with a white satin ruff with an engaging ribbon in a bow between her breasts, the outlines of which are just visible beneath the folds of her dress. From her appearance I would guess she was about 20 years old when she painted the portrait but it has the style and professionalism of someone twice that age.   But the glory of the painting is the hat. It is a wide brimmed straw hat turned up slightly on the right to give a debonair appearance to the wearer.   What so captures my appearance is the triumphant femininity of Elizabeth Louise. She lived at a time when it must have been exceedingly difficult for any woman to make a living independently in a man’s world but her she is , full of self confidence in her powers and skills as a painter, challenging the world with a painting of superlative merit and sure technique and at the same time depicting herself  as a beautiful and desirable woman. If I has been a man I might have fallen in love with her.   But I am not. What I can  do instead is to think of her when I dress. To assume some of her self confidence and see myself as her looking out of that painting into the world with confidence and unafraid.   I once cherished the dream of finding clothes similar to those she wears in the portrait so that I could look in the mirror as she did and hopefully see the same woman returning my scrutiny with that half amused smile. Perhaps one day I will.   Meanwhile she inspires me and fills me with a feminine confidence that I would not otherwise enjoy and so on every visit to London I pay homage to my predecessor and silently commune with her spirit.    

Cathy's Story

Becoming a middle aged girl... Although I have wanted to dress up as a woman for most of my life, I never really had the nerve to do it. Friends, family and work colleagues had occasionally ridiculed transvestites when stories appeared in the press. My mother (whom I believe suspected I was a bit of a girl) would make announcements occasionally such as "I would be devastated if one of my sons were gay or effeminate". As a young man this did nothing to help with my growing desire to dress up as a girl. I don't think I'm outwardly effeminate and I know I'm not gay as I'm not attracted to men. However, I really do admire woman, I like their fashions and hair styles, and like real women I know I can enjoy dressing like that as well. I'll avoid all the psychology and the 'why do I do it' soul searching, all I know is I want to do it and it is only fear of society and my peers that made me try to suppress my cross dressing desires. Last year I decided I was going to do it for real, my urge to dress up and impersonate females had only become stronger over the years so one day I made the decision to become the transvestite I knew I was. I still remember the traumatic afternoon I told my wife, the news went down very badly, but I wanted her to know the truth. Despite the bad reception to my confession I can still vividly recall the next few hours as I shaved my legs and chest, I really felt this was it - I was finally going for my long held dream to appear as a female. I should point out that for me I wanted to go the whole way when I dressed up, I wanted everything, shaved body, cleavage, breasts, full make up, tights, dresses, high heels, and wigs. I wanted no half measures, if I was going to pretend to be a woman I wanted to look and feel as close to being female as I could possibly achieve. I think I am partly female as I certainly felt very comfortable creating my female body shape. I loved wearing the silicone breast forms more than I could ever have believed. Shaved legs and a smooth hairless chest are just such a sensational tactile feeling that I don't think I can return to having a hairy body again. After the initial shaving, it does not take too long to keep your body shaved. I find I now enjoy having a bath and shaving my legs and I'll admit I love rubbing in all the moisturisers I now use every day, it's a girly thing but I love it! As I approached the point where I finally became a practicing trannie I discovered the Transformation web site and realised this was it! I could order make up, shoes, dresses - and of course my delightful discovery of silicone breast forms - and it would all come mail order, no nervous shopping expedition.  

  I have only dressed up en femme on ten occasions and I realise that I do not make a very convincing woman at all. This is a little disappointing as after a lifetime of waiting I thought with a bit of make up, a nice wig and dress that I could immediately look female. Not so! I understand that I need a lot of practice and I need to learn the skill of applying make up. I enjoy wearing make up and I get a little better every time but I have a long way to go. At first I just loved piling make up on and wearing tons of it, and I mean tons of it! It was very exciting to finally put it on my face. I'm calming down now and I'm still trying to use what is just enough to look convincing. I do enjoy that moment when I start to put on my foundation, I love the perfumed smell and feel of it as it covers my male features. My favourites are mascara and lipstick, I very much enjoy wearing both on my face. My favourite moment comes when I'm finally made up, I have put on my female underwear, my temporary breasts feel good in their supporting bra (occasionally I go braless), my smoothly shaved legs are sheathed in nylons, I'm wearing a form fitting short lycra dress and I've slipped on my high heels I then put on my wig and I experience a real thrill at suddenly becoming a woman, it is simply a wonderful personal moment! I'm only an impersonator of women and I'm not good at it, but I want to be good so I will carry on trying to refine my female alter-ego Cathy and who knows maybe one day I'll finally be mistaken for a woman, that's my dream. I was fortunate that I reached a stage in my life where I had enough money to indulge myself and buy all my female clothes and accessories. I now understand that what is important is not really how convincing you look as a woman, but enjoying the whole dressing experience. You don't have to look sensational, you don't have to go the whole way, just do what you want and enjoy it, I absolutely adore it! I enjoy dressing up and pretending to be female and for me it makes me feel soft, warm, and relaxed. It is a very tactile experience and after my years of suppression my confidence has been boosted by finally exploring my feminine side. If you are like me and suppressed your transvestite nature then I can only say: give it a go at least once, it really is wonderful to do, I'm sure you will enjoy it as much as I have. Be true to yourself, we only live once and in the grand scheme of things, with some of the horrors going on in the World today, dressing up as girl is not really a bad thing by comparison.   Bye, Cathy XX

HOLY GRAIL EMMA'S STORY

 I had agreed to go training with my job in the south of England. This would take me away from home for two weeks. I leaped at the chance as I do not get the opportunity to dress up that often and these times away from home are ideal. My mind went into overdrive as I plotted how to buy the gear and what I was going to choose. I had two weeks to plan and execute a military style project to re-wardrobe myself. As with many transvestites I had bought and discarded my clothing, make-up and cheap wigs on many occasions. As I set out planning this trip it was likely to be no different. I had cause to go into work for an hour but stretched it out for a whole afternoon to go 'girlie' shopping. I've used the term in my mind before to justify my need to cross-dress. This often helps me make up white lies to explain away why I might be buying a lovely skirt or fitted blouse.

My first visit was to buy some lingerie. I found the most beautiful bodice and knickers in a deep purple and black. A lovely set of stockings would set it off a treat. My story of an anniversary present worked perfectly as ever. I often find a desperate urge to literally tell the assistant the true story and see their faces. I resist as I think it might shock them into an early grave. Oh well onto look for a blouse and skirt. I knew the skirt I wanted, short in black suede with possibly a small split. As no doubt many of you have found, we transvestites cannot be too choosy sometimes. However I found a fabulous leather skirt, size 14 (just me) no split but just above the knee for £14. Since it should have been £50, I took it. This time it was a birthday present for my wife. I trawled round for a blouse but couldn't see any that would either fit or look good. In the last shop I visited I immediately went to the reduced rack and saw the most gorgeous 'bolero' style Chinese blouse. It was also a size 14 though I usually need a 16 but at £10 it was a must, especially as it was £65 to start with. Well I had the garments and well great. So what do I do now? My recent ventures into the world of cross-dressing had been pretty good. I was now, however becoming a bit picky about the cosmetics I bought. It has to be Maybelene or Max Factor. I feel that if I want to pass I should look the best I can. My favourite purchase was Maybelene's Watershine Diamond lipstick and I am sure the cashier thought something was odd. I have to admit walking out a bit exhilarated at the thought of someone guessing. So now I had the clothes and the cosmetics, all I needed was the wig and I would be happy. The only question was how to get it. Do I use my previous reason "A stag doo to Amsterdam dressed as women"

It was at this point I re-visited the Transformation website for the umpteenth time. I browsed the shop links and drooled. I looked at all the wigs and dreamed of which I would choose if I could afford them. Then I found the shoe link and though how fabulous to have a pair of 'Penny's'. I could not believe it as I realised I was then wishing I had a pair of my very own breastforms. This was further than my mind had ever wandered before. I could feel nervous sensations in my tummy that was simply exciting. "Right, I'm going to do it". I consciously decided to visit a Transformation shop. My local, although 40 miles away is only 7 miles from work and we employ a 1000 people so that was out. I decided to go to the Birmingham branch on my way down south. A perfect location as it is just off the M6/M5 on my way to London. Then I thought "why not go to the London Euston shop". I'll park at Watford and get the train right to it. As with everything I do it was military precision. Out at 5am, Watford at 8.30am, train at 8.50am, Euston at 9.10am, 2 hours in shop, train back at 11am and onto my destination of Basildon for 1pm. I had the ticket for the train and it was a perfect journey up to Milton Keynes, I was ahead of schedule. My heart had been pounding all the way down at the sheer excitement. But it took 2.5 hours to go 160 miles and another hour to go 20. I was so depressed. Anyway I managed to get the 9.18am train and got to Euston by 9.45am. By now I was dizzy with excitement and desperate to get into the shop. I could actually feel myself going light headed as I neared my holy grail.

    I exited Euston Station onto Eversholt Street and turned left. I kept saying "just walk in, just walk in" but as I neared I started getting very scared. What if someone is watching or taking photographs. Well I couldn't do it and I walked on the other side past the door by about 100yards. I then got Dutch courage and turned on my heels, "just fu****g go for it yer weed". As I turned there were about 4 people infront of me but I acted as normally as I could, walked up to the door and "My God, I'm in". Even now I cannot tell you how I felt, just emotionally overwhelmed. I could hear my heart sing and I was genuinely breathless with emotion. I spoke to Sally and Maggie and said "This is my first time and you are the only people in the world who now know what I do". The both smiled so lovingly and asked me if I wanted a cup of tea, DID I..! It was Sally who looked after me and we talked for ages as I told her my life story, and it's a long one (thanks Sally). I felt so at ease and soon realised I had a new TRUE friend. Sally asked me what was the purpose of my visit and she showed me the wigs and shoes. I ended up buying a sexy strawberry blonde shoulder length bob and a pair of those Penny shoes with a perfect 2" heel. At 6'2" those would be just right. We then got talking about breastforms and Sally dressed me in a corset, bra and fitted the 'crème-de-la-crème' reactive breastforms. She pulled in the waist and for the first time in my life I arrived as a woman. I felt my whole world change before my eyes, but the sad fact was that the cost was a bit too much, for now. However I did go out with the cheaper foam ones to give the illusion. I could not thank Sally enough for the time she had spent with me. I had been able to share a wonderful part of my life with somebody. Until this moment I had felt like a bit of a freak. My first visit to Transformation was wonderful and within a week I had visited a further two times and taken the chance of a changeaway on both occasions. Sally wasn't in the following Monday but I saw a familiar face in Maggie. I was only visiting because I wanted to look around again and had no intention of a changeaway. However I kept thinking this would be my last chance for a very long time. Should I do it even though I would only get 2 hours? I went for it and Maggie took care of me as if I were her own. I won't elaborate here but if you read the website on topic, that is just what I would write. I was overjoyed at the results and felt a million dollars walking up the stairs. I have always felt feminine and this has only helped to reinforce my feelings. Now I couldn't wait for a second chance. Which would be much sooner than I thought. My second changeaway was even better as I had all the time afforded to me. By chance on my last day down south, I left Basildon very early so decided to go back on the spur of the moment. I had no other intention than to go for a changeaway again. It still exited me to walk in the doors but I now had no fears. Sally was in on this occasion and I was really pleased. My second changeaway was even better, no offence to Maggie at all. The dress we chose together and the underwear were perfect. Sally did my make-up as I asked, subtle and simple. I have taken great care about learning how to apply make-up for over 10 years now. When Sally applied my wig I totally transformed. I could not even recognize myself, and I do not say that lightly. I was now as close to a real a woman as I had wished to be all my life. What was more worrying was that I looked better than my wife does. The most fantastic parts of the day were yet to come. I had blokes in the shop eying me up all the time and I had one guy who took time to talk to me. He wanted to tell me how 'fabulous' (his words) I looked and could he look at what underwear I was wearing. I pulled up my dress, swishing my hips from side to side and played with my corset, panties, bra and stroked my size C boobs as if I were a flirty woman. The guy in question was obviously excited, touched me in various places and felt my boobs. I nearly fainted. I am not gay at all and will never try that side of life out, but the thought of being chatted up was thrilling and proof that I passed. . I felt like my world was complete.

    It is amazing how things change. Not 2 weeks earlier my Holy Grail was to visit Transformation. Now my dreams had changed and I wanted to step out into the limelight, this was now my Holy Grail. Even at 6'2" I have become quite convincing as a woman. I blame Sally completely for my newfound brazen attitude. I had never even told anyone of my desires until that Monday when I stepped in the shop at Euston. In the following two weeks I stepped out (fully made up) of my hotel room every night and walked round the hotel and went for drives. I was careful to not be seen but to be truthful I wanted people to see me but if I didn't make eye contact with them that was fine. At least I was as careful as I could be but when you step out in broad daylight someone is going to see you. This happened but the woman who saw me (not two feet away) looked up and then looked back down and carried on with her meal. If most didn't see me they certainly heard me in those beautiful shoes as they made that sexy click on the pathways. To be honest I had female neighbours every evening I stayed and I was secretly desperate for them to walk out of their room at the same time I did to catch me dressed up. It is amazing how things change when you face what you are and stop being embarrassed. For me this is so much so that I have made the decision to tell my little sister, of 31 years old. I always wanted to be her big sister not big brother; I hope she will be as open-minded as I believe she will be. As I write I am planning how to break the news and we have already got the same day off together. She thinks were having a 'bonding' day, she even said "let's do something really mad", no word of a lie. What a surprise she is going to get when she finds out how mad. I have already worked out to tell her over lunch and have booked a hotel room to take her to so I can change for her. She will be amazed at the transformation but I am prepared for some denial and resentment in the early stages. I believe we will become closer than she can ever imaging. It is a pity I will never be able to share this with my wife. She would see such a caring, loving, sharing person; our marriage would be blessed, oh well. It is inspiring that my new dream (my ultimate Holy Grail) is to go out dressed up with my sister possibly round Soho, London or maybe the Gay Village, Manchester. I will do it one day but it will take courage.

At the top of my story I said that this trip was likely to be no different to any other. I could not have been more wrong and for the first time I will not be discarding what I have now come to accept as part of my life. The Story Begins.. Lots of love Emma XXX