Erotic Transformation Flow
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I see now that being a man, as society demands, is a wrong idea, and that I should not have been expected to behave in such an aggressive manner. As Colette had told me, because the crowned heads of Europe had a silly quarrel over who was the top nation and who should have what lands, young men should not have to prove their manhood by killing and being killed. This I was beginning to understand. But by the third week, I was finding being a woman much easier. Perhaps when I looked out of the window to the north, every night that week, to see the flashes of the gunfire and bombs on the horizon, I was feeling safe and reassured that I was not in the middle of that, even if I was dressed as a woman. Or perhaps it was then that I began to like the sensation of lace and satin on my body. Especially after my uniform, I felt soft and at ease with myself. Of course it may be a little more difficult to move around, but even then I was able to do so without stumbling. And it was still not very comfortable wearing corsets all day. It took me a long time to admit it to myself, but my new life in skirts and petticoats was bringing me a peace I had not known since I was a child. Colette noticed in that third week how much at ease I was, and told me that I was doing very well indeed. I was trying the many dresses, skirts, blouses and lingerie that I found in my wardrobe. They were all very pleasant. It might have been hard to admit it, but I, a man, or perhaps a man no longer, enjoyed wearing all these women's clothes. Underneath I wore the same type of knickers, corsetry and petticoats as usual. On top I always during the day put on an ankle-length full skirt and a tight white blouse, often fastened at the neck with a cameo. In the evenings I was expected to wear more elaborate dresses, satins and lace, as Colette did. My hair - or the hair of my wig - was often tied up in an elaborate style, or pinned up in a simple bun. I was beginning to wish my real hair would grow longer more quickly, so that it could be styled too. Ringlets, perhaps. It was late October, almost a month since I had become Antoinette, that I met someone else in my new sex. Unexpected, Marie announced that Madame Monan and her daughter Michelle had come to call. Colette told her to show them in. I was sitting by the fire, in my long frock, when it happened. I almost panicked, and rose, trying to leave the room before they came in. Colette ordered me to stay (she had not commanded me to do anything for two weeks), saying `You need to meet people, Antoinette. You have the training to do it, and you cannot remain hidden forever. But if you say no more than you need to, you will get through it.'
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