All posts by -cdata-eal-admin-

Nov 201520

Timewarp

---cdata-eal-admin--- short story

TIMEWARP

It's strange how even the most momentous days begin in such a normal way. That Friday morning - when Richard Fielding's life was about to be turned upside down - started with the usual cup of coffee in bed and a long stretch before he forced himself to join the jostling queue for the bathroom, behind little sister Anna and older sister Trish. He hated getting up for work at any time, but he had to get out of bed even earlier this morning because of his ridiculous insistence on volunteering for a special job, when his workmates had warned him to keep quiet and never volunteer for anything. It was the special bonus payment which had attracted him, together with the prospect of taking a day out of the Accounts Department where he had worked for two years. Twenty years old, and going nowhere fast! The thought was depressing, but at least by volunteering for the special project by the large scientific research company he worked for, he stood the chance of getting himself noticed. Who could tell, it might even give him the chance of promotion... Breakfast was the usual state of chaos when Richard sat down at the table. Anna spent more time reading her comic book than eating, while Trish was busy fussing with her hair and make-up and trying to drink a cup of black coffee at the same time. Trish was only one year older than Richard, and there had always been an uneasy truce between them, brought about by the usual brother/sister rivalries. Richard teased her endlessly about her preoccupation with clothes and her looks. Their father had died some years before, and their mother believed that it was the responsibility of the girls to perform the domestic chores, which caused a lot of resentment on Trish's part but allowed Richard to get one up on her. "Come on, you lot. It's time you were all leaving." Richard's mother performed the same ritual of trying to get them to work or school on time every morning, but always with the same lack of success. Richard looked at her, and could still see why she was considered a beauty in her day. She was definitely looking tired lately, he thought - not having Dad to take charge was beginning to take its toll.

Richard finished his toast and coffee and gave Mum a kiss on the cheek before leaving for work. She gave him a smile, telling him to make sure he paid attention during his special project. Trish just gave him a look of slight animosity while Anna carried on reading her comic, completely unaware of the surrounding activity. As he was leaving the house, a sudden premonition hit Richard. He had the distinct feeling that he would never see his family again, at least not as he had seen them that morning. He shrugged to himself, and made his way to Scientific Exploration Plc. It felt strange going to the imposing Experimental Research section rather than the usual maze of offices where he normally worked. He was welcomed at Security by a rather attractive receptionist and led through the clinical white corridors to a large, bare room. At least it was bare in terms of having no furniture, although in the middle of the room there was a metallic, windowless capsule. At the far end of the room, a group of "boffins" were grouped around an amazing array of computer terminals. They turned around as Richard entered the room, almost as if he was a new specimen of rabbit they had brought in for tests. One of the scientists approached Richard and shook his hand. "Good morning, Richard. I am Doctor Sandiford. You must excuse us if we seem a trifle preoccupied today but what we are planning to do is revolutionary. You have been chosen from a number of volunteers because you possess the mental and physical resilience to go on one of the greatest voyages of discovery Man has ever known. You will be travelling through time!" Richard took a deep breath and tried to take in the enormity of what he had just been told. "But wha... I mean... well just HOW are you going to do that?" was all he could stammer. Dr Sandford smiled patiently. "Let me explain. We are going to put you in that capsule and place gadgets that will convert all your memory and thoughts into a form of digital wave frequency. These can be directed faster than the speed of light until they actually travel back in time. Meanwhile, we have to fix the co-ordinates of a suitable receptacle - that is, a lifeless body which is still capable of brain reactivation - to store your thoughts and memory. So you will think like you do now but, for a short time it will be in somebody else's body. We have a suitable person in mind - a young man about your age. He's in a coma at the moment but is otherwise functioning perfectly normally. And you - or rather your mind - will be transported back to 1958." Richard gasped aloud and involuntarily took a step back. He wouldn't do it - it was dangerous and weird. Dr Sandiford seemed to read his thoughts. "We know how you must feel but we must do this experiment today. The company will pay you twenty thousand pounds in recognition of the risks you take and that's apart from the vast amounts of money you can make from the newspapers and television if you want to sell your story. And I promise...it's absolutely foolproof." That was all the persuasion Richard needed. "OK, when do we start?" Dr Sandford smiled. "Straight away, young man."

Richard remembered very little about what followed. He was led to the capsule and eased himself inside. Gadgets were placed on his head and he felt tiny pinpricks as the needles, electrodes, or whatever entered his brain. He had the strangest feeling that his thoughts and feelings were slipping through his body and into the air around him. Then... blackness. Perhaps it was just as well that Richard could not know what was happening back in the laboratory which his mental being had just left. Everything went smoothly to begin with and it would have been hard to detect, from the quiet air of calm and confidence, that a revolutionary experiment in time travel was taking place at all. It was only when the digitalised version of Richard's conscious "self" was due to be deposited into the body of the unfortunate coma victim that disaster struck. The first sign came when one of the scientists suddenly shouted out. "Dr Sandford! Over here...quickly...we have a problem." All faces turned to him. "What is it?" asked Dr Sandford, rushing over. "The boy, the one we're planning the subject in. His body has just died, three minutes before our calculations. If we don't find a suitable alternative soon we'll lose the trace!" "Computer scan. We have to find a body which is in a coma state, in the same location but still alive at exactly 3.31am on 8th October, 1958." The computer keyboard was rapidly tapped until a report came up. SUBJECT:SUSAN RADLEY BORN:10.02.1939 MEDICAL STATE:COMA FOLLOWING CAR CRASH.ALL PHYSICAL INJURIES HEALED AS AT 3.31AM 08.10.58 Sandford looked at his colleagues. "It's our only chance, otherwise we'll lose him. Input the co-ordinates. He won't be the first person to go to sleep a man and wake up a woman...but he'll be the first to have experienced the change so suddenly." The female assistant tapped the keyboard again. It was done! Consciousness came very slowly to Richard, in the early hours of that October morning, ten years before he had ever been born. For a long time he was vaguely aware that he was in a bed which was not his own but he lay still, eyes barely open, trying to remember how he got there. As he recovered his senses, he began to notice that he was in a hospital. He felt very stiff, as if he had been lying in one position for too long but he could not feel any reason why he should be in a hospital bed. Something caught his attention. A lock of blonde hair had fallen across his line of sight. But he had short, brown hair... didn't he?

He held up his arm. It felt light, and when he stared at it he could see why. It was a girl's arm, soft and completely lacking in hair or muscle, with a beautifully shaped and manicured hand. That same hand instinctively moved up to feel his face. It was soft to the touch, almost like velvet, and there was no trace of his usual stubble. Panic gripped him as the realisation of where he had come from and what had happened began to dawn on his scrambled brain cells. They had landed him in 1958 all right...but as a bloody girl!!! He struggled to a sitting position in bed, feeling the strange sensation of his long blonde hair tumbling into his face. Looking down, he immediately noticed the perfectly proportioned breasts only partially covered by the revealing nightgown. He looked at them in a daze. He had always been turned on by breasts on a girl but here he was staring at his own... Hesitantly, he touched them, first of all brushing the nipples with the tips of his fingers and eventually using both hands to rub and fondle them into different shapes. Even in his state of confusion he was aware that a warm, tingling sensation accompanied such actions. The nightgown was the next thing he noticed. It was made of pink satin and was low-cut, held up by two delicate straps. He felt embarrassed wearing it but realised that, short of complete nakedness, he had no alternative. It was cool and light and yet he felt trapped inside it, as if it was a second skin. He slowly held up the bedsheets and gazed at the rest of his new-found body. He could tell that, under the flimsy nightgown, he had a slim girlish figure. His waist was thin but his hips were curved, and his legs were firm yet completely feminine. He noticed all this with a curious mixture of despair and pride. He suddenly realised that under the nightie the most essential part of his masculinity would be gone. He raised the hem of the nightdress delicately and stared at the space between his legs... The loss of his male member produced the strangest effect on him. It seemed to unleash all the girlish emotions which were still locked in Susan Radley's coma-stricken mind and jumble them up with his thoughts and memories. He was still Richard Fielding... but his head was filled with feelings of vulnerability and sensitivity which only a girl could possess. He lay down and cried himself to sleep. It was not long before the grey light of dawn replaced the controlled darkness of night in the ward. Richard had stopped crying but was still emitting little muffled sobs every now and then. Footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor and he turned around to be confronted by a rather pretty nurse who was more shocked than he. "Thank God you've come out of it. Matron. MATRON!" She ran out of the room to fetch her superior. More footsteps approached The matron entered, a stern looking woman with a brisk, efficient manner. She smiled weakly when she saw her patient fully awake. "Ah, Miss Radley. You had us worried for a long time there. How do you feel?" Richard felt a sudden urge to shout out that he was not Miss bloody Radley but he knew it would sound ridiculous, coming from the body of the girl herself. He decided it would be best to play along with things, at least until those idiots at the Research Department could get him out of this mess. "I feel pretty good, thank you. I..." Richard hesitated. That voice! Surely it couldn't be him speaking? It sounded so soft and feminine and when he spoke it resonated around the roof of his mouth, rather than the usual throaty feeling. "That's all right dear," said Matron. "Try not to overdo it. You've had a very tough time. I'll send a doctor to see you later. Meantime, you try to rest." As she was speaking, she fussed around with the pillows and bedclothes, totally unaware that the young girl she was gently rearranging had the thoughts and memories of a man. As they left the room, the pretty nurse gave a sympathetic smile. Richard smiled back, aware that any longings he might have would have to be suppressed. He was a girl for the time being - and he had better act the part...

Alone again, Richard paid more attention to his surroundings. He was in a private cubicle which was sparsely decorated and rather small. He could hear the voices of people awakening in the general ward outside and he guessed he was in a women's ward. He stumbled out of bed and, despite the throbbing in his head, experienced a strange, tingling sensation as the cold folds of the nightgown settled around his bare legs. He placed his head round the entrance to the cubicle and looked at the rows of women in the ward. The lady nearest to him, middle-aged and sporting curlers, greeted him. "Hello, dear. Glad to see you're in the land of the living. My, you're a pretty little thing. Have you got a boyfriend then?" The sudden realisation that he might have to cope with a boyfriend caused a simultaneous feeling of faintness and panic. "Er...I... I can't remember." Again that soft gentle voice surprised him. He also realised he was blushing and standing in a very feminine, shy way. "Don't you worry about me embarrassing you. I just like to stick my nose in. I'm glad you've recovered, anyway. You're too lovely looking to go so young." Again Richard was conscious of a blush reddening his girlish cheeks as he smiled and returned to his bed. The rest of the morning went by quickly. The doctor came round to examine his newly-recovered patient and Richard felt a strong feeling of shyness when he was examined around the breasts and under his nightie. When he was pronounced fit, his mother was sent for. She was overjoyed to see the person she thought was her daughter and Richard had to feign amnesia to make sure she had no doubts about his real identity. She seemed a nice enough person and the last thing Richard wanted was to upset her or build her hopes too high. After several days under observation, the doctor eventually pronounced the body of Susan Radley (and the mind of Richard Fielding) fully fit and able to return to "normal" life. Mrs Radley came to the hospital with a suitcase full of clothes and Richard suddenly realised what this meant. He would have to live in the outside world as a girl - at least until his mind was transported back to his own time. Noticing the embarrassment of her supposed daughter, Mrs Radley left the clothes in the cubicle and went to talk to the staff nurse. Richard opened the case with trembling fingers and took out the clothes one by one. There was a full-skirted floral print dress, richly coloured in pinks and blues. There was a whole array of lacy, feminine underwear which felt soft and cool to the touch. The stockings felt particularly flimsy and caused Richard to shiver. He looked at the six-inch stilettos with some trepidation - how on earth would he be able to walk in them? He decided he had better start to get ready before his "mother" returned.

Richard picked up the full-laced panties and slowly put them on. They tickled his thighs but did not seem so bad once they were in position. He decided to try the bra next. He remembered how his girl-friends used to put them on, never thinking he would one day be mimicking their actions. He fastened the straps and then moved the cups to the front before placing his breasts in them. He gasped as he did this, realising how captive this made him feel in his new role. The bra was white cotton with pink rosebud motifs, heavily-boned in the fashion of the day. Although it felt strange and uncomfortable at first, Richard could not help but notice how well-accentuated was the shape of his breasts (he had started to think of them as HIS breasts). The stockings came next. Mrs Radley had chosen a pair of light tan silk stockings which Richard had to handle very delicately to avoid laddering. Again he tried to cast his mind back to visions of his ex- girlfriends dressing. Unfortunately, few of them had worn stockings so he had to improvise. He fastened the suspenders and placed the straps through the panties. He tried just putting the stockings on as he would a pair of socks, but soon realised that would never work. An inner sense seemed to tell him to roll them to the end, place them on his toes and then roll them up his hairless legs. While doing this he felt a real thrill as the soft, cool material caressed the skin. He was actually enjoying the experience of dressing, as though the spirit of the girl whose body he had taken over was taking over his mind! He handled the crisp, frothy petticoats with a mounting sense of excitement. He daintily stepped into the folds of taffeta and placed the prettily-laced material around his waist. The tickling sensation around his thighs, on the exposed flesh between the panties and the stockings, was truly delightful. He swayed his hips, as if to some unheard music and watched the swish of the petticoats around his shapely legs. Finally, the dress. The cotton material felt quite stiff, and Richard held it up in front of him with a certain amount of trepidation. This felt like the final act, complete acquiescence in his new role. There would be no going back once he was completely and utterly dressed as Susan Radley... and yet he knew there was little choice. He could not parade around in his underwear and, in 1958, a girl in boy's clothes was unheard of. He would have to live out the role until he could "escape" back to the future, when things would be back to normal - if anything could be back to normal after an experience like this... He unzipped the dress and then, gathering his petticoats around him, stepped into it's firm confines. He let the petticoats go, to flutter back to their original position and then placed his arms into the sleeves. Suddenly he realised - he could not reach behind to zip himself up. Fortunately, Mrs Radley walked into the cubicle at that moment and, seeing the dilemna her "daughter" was in, zipped the dress into place. A feeling of vulnerability and helplessness flooded over Richard at this point - being zipped into the confinements of the dress was a strange sensation... but not a particularly unpleasurable one. The high heels came next. They were white court shoes, with a particularly high stiletto heel, which Richard felt sure would be impossible to walk in. He squeezed his tiny feet into the shoes and walked round the bed. He expected to totter, but the natural sway of his girlish hips and the loose way he was walking helped his balance enormously - the shoes felt quite natural to wear, although he had to take much daintier steps in them. He minced across to where Mrs Radley was standing, as if to say "How do I look?" She smiled at the sight of her daughter, so prettily dressed and ready to face the world again. She produced a pink hair ribbon from her bag, tied Richard's hair into a cute pony-tail and then placed the merest hint of blusher on his cheeks and lipstick on his lips. She then gently led Richard towards the mirror in Matron's adjoining office. The effect of seeing the reflection of a very pretty, feminine young girl staring back from the mirror was too much for Richard. He felt more trapped than ever in this strange body and felt more than ever that the girlish emotions which would be so much a part of that body were beginning to take over. His breath began to quicken and his heart was fluttering. He felt his little hands involuntarily clasp over his rising breast and his knees begin to go weak. Before he really knew what was happening to him he had fainted.

When he came round Richard found himself lying on the sofa in a very homely, comfortable living room. He thought it looked a little old fashioned until he remembered that he was still in the year 1958 and he was still Susan Radley. He struggled to sit up and his long blonde hair tumbled down across his face. He brushed it back and noticed Mrs Radley across the room. "Did I faint?" he asked, in a tremulous voice. "Yes, dear. I think the thought of coming home proved a bit much for you. The hospital wanted you to stay on for observation but I was determined to bring you home. It's been a bit lonely for me since your father died." Richard felt a wave of relief - at least there was no other parent to try to deceive - but he immediately hated himself for thinking such uncharitable thoughts. "Oh, by the way darling, Pam and Linda are coming round to see you later." Noticing the puzzled look on her daughter's face, Mrs Radley reminded her that they were her two closest friends from the hairdresser's where they all worked. "Oh yes, Pam and Linda," said Richard, trying to sound enthusiastic but becoming more concerned at the growing number of people for whom he would have to pretend. The rest of the day went by in a daze. Richard felt able to walk around after a while and carried out his "daughterly" duties by helping with some light household chores. Although he never helped around the house as Richard Fielding, he got a certain sense of satisfaction from such domesticity, feeling quite natural washing and ironing. He had just finished making a pot of tea when the doorbell rang and he heard the chatter of female voices in the hallway. Suddenly, two teenaged girls came rushing into the kitchen and began excitedly to hug and kiss him, at the same time breathlessly asking how he felt and when he would be coming back to the salon. Richard tried to act the part and reciprocated their girlish excitement, promising to tell all when they were sitting down with a cup of tea in hand. The three girls sat and talked for hours. Fortunately, Pam and Linda assumed that "Susan" would be able to remember very little and managed to fill in her recent past for her. Without realising, Richard found himself sitting in a very girlish position, legs tucked under his slim body and petticoats tumbling over the side of the chair. He began to enjoy the girlish chatter and giggling remarks about different escapades they had been involved in. They discussed so many things - clothes, make-up, hairstyles, boys - which seemed so perfectly natural and yet Richard would have died if anybody had told him that he would be spending his time in such a way when he was back in "the present". Mrs Radley came in with a fresh pot of tea and smiled happily at the sight of her "daughter" so obviously back to her old self. The girls decided that "Susan" needed to be spruced up a bit, with nice clothes and make-up and they persuaded Mrs Radley that the three of them would go shopping on the coming Saturday. Richard felt a flutter of girlish anticipation at the thought of buying a feminine new outfit. Pam and Linda decided to push their luck with Mrs Radley a little further, and persuade her to let Susan go to the dance with them on Saturday night. At first she was adament that her daughter would not be nearly well enough but, noticing the look of eagerness on Susan's face, she relented on condition that she prove herself able to cope with a shopping expedition first. Richard could not believe what was happening - going to a dance in a brand new feminine outfit - and he was looking forward to it. The rest of the week went by in a whirl and, as each day went by, Richard grew more and more accustomed to his new role. The household chores gave him a real sense of satisfaction and he felt himself fulfilling his duties, such as washing and ironing, cooking and cleaning with a sense of enthusiasm. But it was the feelings of softness and vulnerability, the sensual trappings of being a girl which he enjoyed the most. He loved the feeling of dressing in silky, shimmering lingerie, allowing the satin, lacy material to caress his skin before daintily stepping into the crisp, rustling petticoats and stiff, flaring dresses which showed off his delicate legs to their best effect. Occasionally he would sit at the dressing table, lost in a labyrinth of female emotions as Mrs Radley would slowly brush his long, blonde hair, over and over, before tying it into a cute ponytail with a pink ribbon.

Finally, Saturday morning arrived and Richard awoke, excited at the thought of his first venture out of the house. He skipped to the wardrobe, determined to select the most flattering daywear he could find. He stepped into a pair of dainty French knickers, white satin with intricate lacing. He placed the matching white satin bra around his firm, rounded breasts and gasped with a feeling of pure submission as he clasped the strap at the back. He placed himself inside the seductive prison of the fluttering white petticoats and then surveyed the rack of dresses of the absolutely perfect outfit to wear. He picked out a white dress with a bold, pink rosebud pattern. The dress was short-sleeved and the bodice was uncomfortably restricted but the skirt flared out dramatically, settling over the profusion of petticoats underneath. As he wriggled into the tight bodice, the doorbell rang and Richard heaved a sigh of relief as Linda came into the room to zip him up at the back. As the zip reached the top, he felt pleasantly trapped in the confines of the dress, swirling round to show off his legs before the crisp petticoats rustled back into place. He placed a pair of cute, white bobby socks on his feet, followed by a pair of white stilettos, unbearably uncomfortable but worth the suffering for the beautiful shape they gave to his slight legs, before they disappeared into the mass of lace above. The shopping trip was delightful. Walking arm in arm, the three girls received many admiring stares and more than a few wolf whistles from passing groups of boys. Richard giggled with Pam and Linda, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze on his bare legs and the rustle of the petticoats when sudden gusts of wind lifted them slightly, followed by the tickling sensation as they settled back into place. They visited every clothes shop in town, trying on a selection of skirts and blouses, dresses and hats. Passing a rather expensive looking dress shop which Richard remembered as a video store in his own time - the girls suddenly stopped and gasped enviously at one of the dress shops on display. It was deep red satin, with bare shoulders and a sculpted bodice. The skirt flared out in several layers with a touch of lace at each level. It had a scalloped edging at the hem, to reveal the merest glimpse of the sewn-in matching red net petticoat. The price seemed too expensive to Pam and Linda at fourteen guineas but they persuaded "Susan" to try it on, on condition that if it looked as wonderful when she was wearing it they would help her pay for it as a "Get Well" present. Richard needed no further prompting and entered the shop. He was almost breathless as he placed himself inside the cool material and shivered, not just from the fact that his soft, feminine shoulders were completely exposed. The dress seemed to become a part of him and further emphasised his essential femininity. He could hardly contain his excitement as he walked regally out of the changing room, to be met by gasps of admiration from Pam, Linda and every other customer in the shop. Pam had tears in her eyes as she whispered: "Seeing you look so radiant, it's so hard to believe we might never have seen you again." Her words reminded Richard who he was and how tenuous was his hold on his new life but he tried to banish such thoughts from his mind, determined to enjoy the girlish emotions he was experiencing. Once bought, the dress dictated the rest of the morning's purchases. A pair of matching red stiletto shoes were added, the six inch heels proving extremely difficult to walk in but worth it for the more pronounced shape they gave his legs. Deep red lingerie proved hard to find but they finally managed to obtain a pair of delicately-laced cami-knickers with a matching bra. The final purchase, a pair of sheer, seamed black silk stockings made Richard clasp his little hands in delight at the thought of wearing them. The girls also bought some accessories for themselves.

Shopping completed, the three young girls went to the local coffee bar for a well-earned "cuppa" before going home. As they swapped oohs and aahs over their outfits for the evening, a group of boys passed the booth. They stopped to chat and Richard could not help but let his attention stray to one of them, a fresh-faced boy with dark, combed-back hair and a leather jacket. The boy smiled and said: "Hi, Suzie, it's great to see you back again. We were worried about you." Richard was completely unprepared for the hot flushes and fluttering sensation in his heart. He blushed and tried to look away but Pam immediately took on the role of match-maker. "Hi, Tony. We were just saying, it looks like Susan's mum is going to let her come to the dance tonight. It's such a pity she won't have anybody to look after her properly when she gets there." Richard wished the ground would open up and swallow him. Pam and Linda just giggled, even more so when Tony took hold of Richard's hand and said: "I'd love to take you Susan. Will you let me pick you up this evening?" Richard was so confused. On the one hand, he was dimly aware that really he was also a boy and should say "no". On the other, he wanted to be swept off his feet by this attractive boy, to feel as only a girl can on being taken out on her first date. In the end, his decision was made for him. "Of course it will be all right. I'm sure it would ease her mum's worries if she knew that Susan was being well looked after. She'll be ready by eight, we'll see to that!" said Linda decisively. Richard felt that he ought to protest but instead he lowered his long eyelashes in girlish modesty. Before Richard knew it, evening arrived and it was time to start getting ready. This time, Pam and Linda were present to make sure their charge was punctual for Tony's visit. They laid all the lingerie on the bed while Richard soaked in a hot, scented bath. As he placed himself in the cool, seductive underwear, they fussed with his hair and fastened him into the bra. Still in his underwear, they seated him at the dressing table and told him to close his eyes. As he relaxed, they made him up - foundation, rouge, eye make-up and lipstick - and completely re-arranged his long blonde hair, raising it to show off his slender neck and delicate facial features. When Richard opened his eyes, he almost fainted! Surely he could not be inside such a beautiful, feminine body! They had made him look absolutely divine. The dress was next and Richard knew, even before he stepped into it, that it would complete the look perfectly. He was right. Mrs Radley walked into the bedroom and gasped at the sight of her gorgeous daughter looking so radiant and happy. All four of them hugged and fussed around each other, until their feminine chatter was stopped by the sound of the doorbell. Richard could hear Mrs Radley letting Tony in and his heart began to pound.

Like all young girls on their first date with a boy, all the usual "what if...?" questions began to raise themselves. He placed his dainty feet inside the red shoes and minced down the stairs. Tony stood as "she" entered the room and Richard was pleased that all the primping and preening had been to good effect. Tony was virtually speechless at the sight of the beautiful young girl he was taking out. Pam placed a red velvet jacket over "Susan's" slim shoulders and, placing her arm in Tony's, they all left for the dance. At first, Richard was a little nervous when they arrived at the local Palais. The rock 'n' roll music was quite loud and he was used to being one of the boys in this sort of environment. Instead, here he was, standing with a group of chattering girls, fussing over hair and make-up, while the boys were getting the drinks and fooling around. Before long, however, he was into the swing of things and even allowed himself a couple of dances, twisting and twirling to the Jive and trying to remember the female parts. Soon, the band were playing a slow, seductive version of "Blue Moon" and Susan found herself in Tony's arms, swaying softly to the music and enjoying every feminine, sensual moment of her life as a girl. The figure-hugging dress, the undulating breasts, the soft, tickling sensation of the frilly petticoats, the smooth tautness of the silk stockings. This moment could never end! But the dreamy feeling became all too real. Suddenly Richard was aware of the lights blurring, the sound of the music fading and the floor moving from under him. He was being transported back to the present! Oh no, not now! He couldn't lose this feeling! But it was too late and he knew it. He could hear the anguised cry of Tony, begging his beautiful "Susan" to wake up, before his mind became a complete blank. Consciousness came slowly and not particularly easily. As his eyes fluttered open, he realised that Susan Radley had gone and Richard Fielding's mind was back in Richard Fielding's body. It was the present all right - there was the machines surrounding him and there were the scientists gazing at their subject. He felt a deep regret for his lost femininity. He moved his head suddenly, to try and look around the lab. The sudden movement caused a lock of long, blonde hair to come tumbling down across his eyes. Surely...it couldn't be...! He looked down his body, and saw the firm round breasts encased in the deep, red taffeta, the slim, curvy hips and the shapely legs. It was true! Somehow, they had transported him back - but still encased in Susan's body!

Nov 201520

Terri's Story

---cdata-eal-admin--- short story

Like so many others I don't remember when my story began. I have always wanted to wear female clothing. When I was very young, I remember I would try on my two sister's underwear whenever I got the chance (I have a sister several years older than me and one younger). At that time, it had nothing to do with sex; I just liked the feeling of wearing the silky underwear. I was not a feminine kid growing up, in fact, just the opposite! I was totally male and enjoyed being a male. The thought of being a girl never crossed my mind (even now, I don't think about becoming a girl). I liked doing all the things that normal boys do in their adolescent and though not a jock, I played hard and physical with the other guys. As I got older and went to junior high, high school and finally college, my dressing in female underwear was just casual, no regular thing. Opportunities were infrequent and I did not have the "overwhelming" drive that I now have. When I did do it, I couldn't understand why, but knew that I enjoyed it immensely. I met a local girl in college and eventually married her in my junior year. We had a good life together although we struggled (as probably most students do) with the money situation. Our sex life was quite normal, whatever that means, with the usual experimentation with various games and fantasies but I never told her about my desire to occasionally wear feminine her underwear. It just never seemed very important and I was quite concerned about how she would handle it. After graduating, my job required that we moved to another area of the country. I was very busy with the new job, working a lot of long hours. This, plus the fact that we had two small children, gave very little time when I could be alone and try on my wife's underwear. By this time, it had become a very sexual thing. Even though I had a good sex life with my wife, I would still frequently masturbate while wearing her underwear. It just felt right! At one point when we were getting ready to have sex, I don't remember how it happened my wife put me in a pair of her panties. I was so turned on by it, standing there in front of her with a tremendous erection! Sex was wonderful for both of us that night and we made it a regular part of our lovemaking (to spice things up).{product_snapshot:id=213|267} This went on for quite some time, and eventually, I began wearing panties all day long on a regular basis. My wife and I would shop together for underwear for me, and she seemed to enjoy it as much I did. It was always such a turn on, that I could hardly wait to get home and try it on. And of course, great sex followed. At this time I was beginning to have thoughts about wearing more than just woman's panties. I wanted to try on a lacy bra, nylon stockings, a satin dress and everything else that women wear but knew instinctively that my wife would never go for it. Why is it that women can wear all the men's clothing they want and nobody blinks an eye? I never did tell her about my secret desires; I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It was much too much of a risk so I just continued to wear panties most of the time (this seemed to be acceptable to her and it was our secret). It was at this time that I began trying on her clothes when I was home alone. I liked to walk around the house in nylons and a dress (and of course all the required underwear) and feel the fabrics sway and rub against my skin. I tried to walk and sit like a woman and to mimic their mannerisms. I never got caught but came close several times, and of course, I would swear off forever until the next time. It always made me feel so good! I wanted to buy myself a wardrobe of my own clothes but had no where to hide them and could not bring myself to shop for them alone since we lived in a very small area.

I began traveling a lot and started visiting women's stores in my free time while I was away. I was an unknown, so there would never be any repercussions with people I knew. These were very inexpensive stores where I could buy clothes for just a few night's use and then discard them before flying home. It was something that I wanted and needed to do but I was somewhat disappointed with my appearance! I did not have the right curves to fill the clothes properly and so I began using some padding here and there. I got quite good at it and would walk around the hotels in drag with pretty good success. At about this time I started to develop an urge to have breast. I began to really envy women's bodies and especially their breast. For a number of reasons which I won't go into here (it had nothing to do with my crossdressing), my wife and I divorced after 14 years. Life changed dramatically although I continued to crossdress whenever I got the chance. I began to buy for myself and now had a small stash, locked up of course, of silky dainty things. It was not possible to have dresses and the like around since my children lived with me and my mother and father were now living with me to help with the kids. After a couple of years I met another woman who I love dearly. Somewhere along the line we introduced panties (for me) into our life and it continues to this day. She helps me pick them out and likes it when I wear them to bed but that's as far as it has gone. She does not know about my little stash but I would love to tell and share it with her. As always, I continue to crossdress whenever I get the chance and love to look at myself in the mirror. My urge to have breast has continued and gotten stronger. Recently, I came across a web site (www.transformation.co.uk) that sold Oestrogen creams. Now, in the last ten years, I have put on some weight and felt that I could possibly grow breasts (small ones) without the love of my life really knowing what I was doing (just some extra weight, not all that unusual). The urge (need, requirement, whatever) has grown much stronger as I've gotten older, so I ordered some. The cream arrived within days and I was terribly excited when it arrived and started using it immediately! My breasts have started to grow in now (a small B cup) and I love them! I like the new tenderness of both my breast and the nipples and the feel of them when they brush against my lower arm during eating or whatever. I don't know when I'll stop using the cream, but if my breast get much bigger, I'm sure that she will start to suspect something. Maybe I really want that to happen, I don't know but I'm not ready to tell her anything and don't know if I ever will.{product_snapshot:id=622|112} I do wish that I could involve her in this side of me since she is such a big part of the rest of my life (we have been together for almost 20 years now). It would be wonderful to be my feminine self with her around but I don't think that she would accept that. The panties, are just a small thing that I believe she feels was her idea and has somewhat of an ownership in. I don't think that everything else concerning my feminine side that I hide from her would fly. I like to think that our life together would continue if she found out, but I do not know this for sure and I'm not willing to risk it. This is my status now; middle aged, growing breast and still nobody to share it with. Maybe things will change someday, but I doubt it. Terri.

Nov 201520

A Secret Cross Dresser- Out In Bath

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A Secret Cross Dresser

I have been a secret cross dresser for many years, but have only recently developed sufficient confidence to walk out in public. Fortunately I have the support of my wife who has been a big help in getting the look right. After much trial and error, I finally have an outfit I feel confident in. We both enjoy our occasional weekends away which combine a short out of season break with an opportunity for me to cross dress. We spent one such weekend in Bath. I have found that the easiest places to walk out are busy city streets in the early evening. The Christmas shopping period is particularly good because people rush about a lot and don't take too much notice of passers-by. The City of Bath is an ideal choice because it bustles with shoppers and tourists and has many streets with interesting window shopping. The narrow pavements and cobble stones provide a real sense of satisfaction when walking in high heels but make sure the shoes are well broken in first! Hotel The Saturday morning was spent on conventional shopping, and used to acquaint ourselves with the layout of the roads and car parks. This is important because it gives confidence and helps minimise the stress of actually going out later in a strange area. Fortunately Bath has a large street level car park with many screening hedges which provides an ideal starting point. At the end of the morning we returned to our lovely old hotel near Bath which fortunately has some rooms in converted stables. This makes it easy to dress in the late afternoon and walk straight to the car in daylight. A quick glance is sufficient to ensure none of the staff are about. There is no need to worry too much about other guests as they are mostly out at that time of day. Once in the car we joined the anonymous local traffic for the return journey to Bath. The car journey is never a problem, as in the grey light of autumn it is virtually impossible to 'read' a cross dresser through a car window. By the time we got back to Bath it was just going dark, but there were still plenty of shoppers about and fortunately a good selection of spaces in our chosen car park. After a few nervous moments we got out of the car to buy a parking ticket and then walked towards the shops.

I usually walk round with my wife not far away in case of trouble, but sometimes I walk about by myself while she goes into a shop. On this occasion I had built up enough confidence in my latest outfit to actually risk going into a shop for the first time. We had selected Marks and Spencer for the trial run and my secret ambition was to try on a pair of shoes I had seen earlier. The store was very brightly lit and I felt rather nervous. At first we stayed on the ground floor where there were many tall stands to give some cover. After a few minutes I felt more confident and we ventured upstairs to look at the lingerie. The upstairs was more open and had fewer people about so I felt more exposed but still felt confident. I then wanted to try the ultimate test and visit the shoe department. As I headed along the open gangway to the shoe area I was immediately 'read' by a chap who was standing there waiting for his wife. He had the time for a long leisurely look and as I walked towards him and he discreetly pointed me out to his wife. After a momentary glance at the shoes I made a rather swift about turn and headed back to the stairs and out into the safety of the street. In many ways the chap in Marks and Spencer had done me a favour. The next day I felt strangely relaxed by the experience. At last I had tested my outfit and discovered its limitations. I am no longer hiding behind my own mirror image, but real world experience. I don't yet know where the weakness is, but it gives me something to work on and an ambition to try and achieve a totally convincing look. Tense The hard part is knowing what to try next. I think I will invest in another Transformation Changeaway and try to pick up a few tips. Certainly the make-up could be further refined, perhaps a more feminine walk is required or maybe I somehow looked tense and did not smile enough. I think the real problem is to strike a balance between looking totally convincing, but at the same time sufficiently conventional as to avoid a long and searching look. I hope my experience gives others the courage to walk out for the first time. Remember to use the crowd as your friend and to walk along with everyone else. The more people there are milling about the less conspicuous you become.

Nov 201520

Short Story - Schoolboys Made to Wear Blouses

---cdata-eal-admin--- short story

Short Story

The headline caught my eye immediately: "Schoolboys Made to Wear Blouses" A headmaster was castigated for ordering a number of boys at his school to wear girls' blouses as a punishment. It seems that the boys concerned had signed each other's shirts as farewell momentos at the end of the school year. For 'wilful damage' to the shirts, the boys were marched off to the school stores where they were fitted out with girls' blouses and made to wear them in class. They became objects of ridicule from their classmates. Parents described the humiliation as being like the ancient punishment of putting offenders in the stocks. As I read this story I was sitting in a train surrounded by a number of young students, mainly female. I couldn't help noticing that all but one of them were wearing trousers. Some had men's shirts, with the shit tails sticking out from under pullovers (which are, I believe, categorised as unisex). Why is it normally acceptable for females to wear male clothing without any embarrassment, whereas if a male wears female clothing, he is likely to become the object of derision? Looking back over the years to the time when I was a schoolboy, I would have given an arm to have been compelled to wear a girl's blouse; indeed, I would have wanted to go the whole hog and don the navy knickers, gymslip and school hat as well! I am sure I could have withstood any derision, and for me it would not have been a humiliation, but a fulfilment of all my secret inner longings. As it was, these delights had to be enjoyed in secret, when circumstances would allow. But the news item raised another, much earlier memory in my history. I have often wondered when I first felt the need to dress and act as a female, and I can only say that the desire has been with me for as long as I can remember. There was no starting point, no specific incident that sparked it off. As a child, aged about six, I was admitted to the isolation ward of our local hospital with a suspected serious contagious illness. Happily, it transpired that I was free of that disease, but nevertheless I had to remain in quarantine for several days. I was allowed to move about the ward and play with the other children, but one day when I had had an unfortunate accident with my clothes, there was nothing for me to wear but a girl's dress...

I remember the nurse dressing me in knickers and a girl's vest (which I remember fastened at the back of the neck) and this little, very pretty, pink check dress with a small bow at the waist. I remember flouncing around in the dress to the amusement of the nurses, who immediately dubbed me 'Rosie' and I remember pestering one of the nurses for a ribbon to put in my hair. When it came to the time to resume wearing my own clothing, I resisted the nurses who were trying to remove my dress to such effect that in the struggle the lovely dress was torn and later I cried myself to sleep. But this was not the beginning of my cross dressing. Long before that experience I had frequently slipped upstairs to my mother's bedroom and donned her nightdress to flounce in front of the long mirror. My mother used to take a clothing catalogue which I read avidly for pictures of women's clothes illustrating the wares on sale. When I had first learned to form letters of the alphabet, I remember lying on the floor with a pencil and writing in the margin of the catlogue the words 'I am a lady'. Fortunately for the safety of my secret I misspelt the last word 'laddie', which was not at all what I meant but which caused no eyebrows to rise. I can now look back with amusement on those early memories, and on the embarrassments and humiliations of puberty, adolescence, teenage crushes, the constant fear of discovery, the secret pleasures... in short, the whole gamut of emotional turmoil to which we transvestites are subjected. I feel I have now survived to mature womanhood. I can now live as I please, banishing male clothing from my wardrobe and living as the woman I have always felt myself to be.

Nov 201520

A Short Story - Transvestites at Sea

---cdata-eal-admin--- short story

A Short Story

Sarah rested her elbows on the polished wood of the ship's rail and stared across the rolling expanse of the Atlantic ocean. As a representative of a national tour company it was her job to experience first-hand potential new holiday packages before they were given the firm's approval. She had been looking forward to this particular trip as she had always enjoyed cruises, but her enjoyment was marred by her boss's decision to accompany her. Mark Collins was a pest in the office, where he constantly lived up to his nickname of 'Mr Hands Everywhere', but he had become even more of a nuisance since they boarded ship together, taking every opportunity to force his attentions upon her. As though her thoughts had conjured him up, Sarah's boss appeared by her side and she straightened as his hand grasped her buttock with a familiarity that she had not invited. "Don't touch me," she ordered sharply, and firmly pushed the offending hand away. She had long since given up trying to put him off politely, but still her words bounced off his thick skin. "Just being friendly, my dear, nothing to get upset about," he responded with a patronising smile that Sarah would have dearly loved to slap off his face. But he was her boss. Gritting her teeth in frustration she turned away and again stared out to sea. She wished fervently that there was some way she could retaliate without fear of losing her job, some way in which she could pay him back for his habitual mistreatment of her and the other women in the office. On the horizon another ship was heading towards them, it's running lights burning brightly in the evening twilight. She concentrated on its progress hoping that he would take the hint that his company was not welcome. As she watched, the distance between the two vessels narrowed, and she could see that they appeared to be on a collision course. "That one has to give way," he said, but the other ship showed no sign of diverting course or even slowing. It was not until it was close enough for Sarah to make out the face of the men on the bridge that the deep throaty sound of their own ship's siren rent the air. Simultaneously she heard the sound of the engines change as the liner, recognising the danger, tried to take evasive action. Slowly, the ship began to turn, but the manoeuvre cam too late and Sarah was thrown to the hard deck as the two ships collided. Immediately it was apparent that serious damage had been inflicted on their ship. As the sirens continued to sound Sarah headed quickly for the nearest rendezvous point. "Sarah! Sarah!" She heard a voice calling her name and turned to see her boss running towards her, panic evident on his face. "We're sinking," he said when he reached her. "They're calling for everyone to go to the lifeboat stations!" "Well, let's go then," she answered patiently. "They're calling for women and children first," he told her, "I don't want to be left here!" Sarah started to reassure him that although the ship was obviously damaged it seemed in no immediate danger of going under, and there would be plenty of time to get everyone off, but she stopped herself. An idea was quickly taking shape in her mind...

"Come with me," she told him, and at the same time grabbing his arm to make sure he followed. Mark went willingly. He had no wish to stay on a sinking ship and if she could think of some way to smuggle him off then he was happy to let her lead him back inside the ship. In less than a minute they were back inside Sarah's cabin. "Get undressed," she ordered and opened some drawers to take out a selection of clothes. "If it's women and children first then you will have to be a woman." She turned to face him and dropped the clothes she had chosen on the bed. Mark hadn't moved. "Do you want to stay here and drown?" she asked pleasantly. Mark hesitated for a moment longer before his fear overcame his embarrassment. Quickly he stripped off his clothes until he stood in just his underwear, but Sarah refused to let him keep any dignity at all. "The ship is sinking..." she reminded him. Heat suffused his face as Mark removed the last garment and stood naked before her. "Put this on," she instructed and handed him a lacy bra. His fingers fumbled with the catch at the back, then he padded out the cups with tissues. Next he stepped into the panties she had picked out for him and folowed these with a pair of thick woolly tights. "We don't have time to shave your legs," she explained, "but those cover them well enough." Mark put on the skirt she offered him without replying. It fitted well. Hugging his hips and buttocks closely, the hem stopped several inches above his knees. A satin blouse completed his outfit. "A scarf should be enough to hide your hair, then we can go," Sarah decided, But as she spoke the ship's sirens stopped and a calm voice announced that the crew had been able to contain the damage caused by the collision, and that the ship would be able to make the nearest port unaided. "Thank God for that!" Mark said grinning, happy now that the danger was over. He began to undo the buttons of his blouse. "Not so fast," Sarah told him. Before he could guess her intentshe had scooped up his clothes and thrown them through the open window of her cabin into the sea below. "What..." he began angrily, but Sarah interrupted him. "Suppose I call the captain," she suggested. "What do you think he would do seeing you like that? Have you arrested perhaps, or at the very least tell the press. I bet you'd lose your job." "Blackmail!" Mark said in disgust. "How much do you want?" "You can't buy your way out of this," Sarah answered. "The only way you are going to keep this a secret is to stay as a woman until we get to port." Mark stared at her in disbelief. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to stay like this!" he said angrily. "Your choice," Sarah told him with saccharine sweetness. "You were willing to act as a woman to get off this ship, but if you would rather that everyone knew that..." She left the rest of the sentence unsaid and reached for the phone by the bed, but Mark stopped her before she could pick it up. "Okay," he agreed.

Sarah grinned in triumph, then hunted for the camera she always took with her on foreign trips. "I can't have you denying everything aftwerwards," she explained as she made him pose for her. She finished the film and took it from the camera, telling him that she would put it in the ship's safe once the purser's office opened again. "In the meantime, let's see if we can make you more convincing." Mark's whole body was stiff with resentment as he sat on the small stool by her dressing table. He would have his revenge for this, he thought grimly. Then he realised uncomfortably that revenge was exactly why he was in this predicament. He gave a small sigh in resignation and watched in the mirror as she first shaped and styled his hair into a more feminine style, then began to apply make-up. With each step he was transformed a little more until he she finally stood back and let him see his new look. A pretty young woman looked out of the mirror at him and Mark swallowed hard, realising that it was his own reflection. "What do you think?" Sarah asked. "I don't know," Mark admitted. He was surprised that it had taken so little to transform him into a convincing woman, but at the same time he was relieved that he appeared female rather than a man dressed in drag. At least he would be spared that humiliation. "No one need find out unless I decide to tell them," Sarah said, and Mark knew that he was being reminded that he was effectively in her power. He watched, feeling self conscious and vulnerable in his new attire as she hunted in the wardrobe for shoes. "These should do," she told him and held up a pair of plain black court shoes. Mark eyed the 3 inch heels dubiously, but Sarah would tolerate no objections. "You can hardly tour the ship in stocking soles," she said. Mark thought briefly that he would be happy to remain in the cabin until they were safely back on dry land, but he was quickly learning that he was in no position to argue. With a heavy sigh that brought a smug grin to Sarah's lips he put on the shoes. At least a full size too small for him, they crushed his toes as he stood in them, but after he was told to walk across the cabin several times he found that he could manage it with reasonable confidence. "Right, let's go and see what's happening," Sarah suggested and led the way out of the cabin. Mark followed nervously, expecting at any moment to be denounced as a fraud, but all the passengers they met were too busy celebrating the fact that they were now safe to notice anything unusual in the two 'women'. Their first stop was at the purser's office where they joined the crowd of people all trying to find out what was happening. The purser's own reliefe was obvious as he informed them that the ship was really in no immediate danger, but that it would take several days before they reached shore. Sarah left her film with him, as she had threatened, then took Mark to the restaurant where food was once again being served. "Take smaller bites," she told him as he bit into a sandwich. "Women don't bolt down their food like animals." Mark glared at her, resentful of the criticism, but he did not want to draw unnecessary attention to himself so he continued to eat in what he hoped was a more feminine manner. "You'll have to take care with all your mannerisms," she told him. "They are more likely to give you away than your appearance." As he had seen for himself in the mirror that he did indeed make a convincing girl, Mark didn't doubt her. And, as the last thing he wanted was to be found out, he resolved to study Sarah and learn how to behave.

After they'd finished their snack, Sarah led the way back to her cabin. "You'll stay here tonight," Sarah told him. Then, seeing the expression of sexual interest flit across his face, coldly added: "As a woman." The Mark of the previous day would have assumed she was simply being a tease and would have tried to force what he saw as a golden opportunity, but it was proving difficult for him to assert his masculinity while wearing a skirt. That simple item of clothing made him feel vulnerable and unsure. In any case, Sarah still held the upper hand and he was quite sure that, if necessary, she would circulate the photos. She handed him a nighty and told him to put it on. Mark stripped off his clothes and pulled the flimsy garment over his head. The silky material slid sensuously over his body bringing goosebumps out on his skin. He shivered, then quickly got into the single bed hoping that Sarah hadn't noticed his peculiar reaction to the garment. From her grin, however, it was apparent that she had. "Like the feel of it, do you?" she taunted, then laughed aloud as he turned his back to her, hiding his flushing cheeks. He heard her undress and climb into bed beside him. It was a situation that he would have given a month's pay to be in only the previous day, but now he carefully kept to his side of the bed and wished for sleep, praying that when he awoke he would discover that it had all been a dream. But the following morning when he opened his eyes and stretched, he was still wearing the nightdress and Sarah was standing beside the bed, watching him. "You had better go and shave," she said, obviously determined to carry out her revenge. "And do your legs and underarms while you're about it." Reluctantly Mark padded barefoot to the small but well-equipped bathroom and did as she demanded. When he returned he was dressed once again in the nightie - it was either that or nothing - but now he noticed the material seemed to brush even more softly against his smooth skin. Sarah had left out some clothes for him, and supervised while he dressed. Then she sat him down on the edge of the bed and began to apply make-up. Fortunately he didn't have heavy beard growth, and so didn't require too much foundation. A little eyeliner, some mascara to accentuate his naturally long eyelashes, some lipstick, and he was ready. A final touch to his hair, then Sarah was satisfied that he looked his best and they both went to the restaurant for breakfast. As the ship was big with a large complement of passangers there was no problem with a new female face suddenly appearing, and Mark was able to relax as he found himself treated as any other passenger. Better, if he were honest. The steward serving coffe had practicalli ignored him so far on the cruise but as he filled Mark's cup he gave a cheery smile. He found the same reaction from other crew members and from passengers too, until he was prompted to comment on the fact to Sarah. It's hardly surprising," she replied drily, "As a man you were so unbearable that no one would want to spend any time with you. But now you feel more vulnerable than arrogant and it makes you much more approachable." Mark began to argue that she was overstating the case, then stopped as he acknowledged that everyone really did seem to be treating him differently. Confident by this stage that he was totally convincing as a woman, he made a determined effort to experiment with his new identity and make friends.

"Enjoying yourself?" Sarah asked as they returned to her cabin that evening. Her question washed over him like a cold shower, reminding him of the reality of the situation he was in, but he still gave her an honest answer. "I feel like I've been playing at being someone else for a day," he told her, "and yes, I did enjoy it to a certain extent." Sarah looked at him, a shrewd analytical expression on her face. "perhaps it wasn't someone else," she said slowly. "Perhaps it was just the more feminine side of your personality expressing itself for the first time." Mark didn't answer. He could hardly agree with her and admit that not only had he discovered that he did have a strong feminine side, but that it was proving infinitely more appealing than his usual male persona. What would life have been like if he had been born a woman, he wondered, as he curled up beneath the blankets and waited for sleep to come over him. The next morning Mark showered and dressed once more in the clothes Sarah picked out for him. As the sun was shining through the cabin window she decided it would be warm enough for him to wear a summer dress. The one she chose was of a pretty floral pattern. Cut low at the neck, the bodice hugged him closely down to where the full skirt flared out over his hips. The slightest movement caused the soft material to swirl in a teasing caress around his thighs. "How does it feel?" Sarah asked. Had her tone been taunting Mark might have been able to erect enough defences to deny the pleasurable sensations that were coursing through his body. But her friendly interest lacked malice and he was provoked to reply honestly. Mark blushed. "It feels nice," he said in a quiet voice that totally lacked any of its usual brusqueness, "very comfortable." "Skirts are much more practical than trousers in warm weather," she said and told him to sit while she applied his make-up. Soon he was transformed once more into an attractive woman and he felt confident enough to meet the other passengers again. As on the previous day, he chatted happily with the passengers and crew that he met. One of the stewards in particular seemed to find him attractive and made every excuse to come to their table during the evening meal. "You were flirting with him!" Sarah accused later when they were alone. Mark opened his lipstick-coated mouth to deny her words but found that he didn't want to jeopardise their developing friendship by lying. "So waht if I was?" he replied defiantly. "I was just experimenting with my new-found feminine charms." "Totally natural," Sarah assured him, tactfully not reminding him that he was, in fact, still really a man. Mark was silent for several moments. "We're friends, aren't we?" he said suddenly. Unbelievable as it may seem, we are. Although I don't expect it to last once 'Mr Hands Everywhere' returns." The warning was lightly spoken but nonetheless real. "Was I really such a bastard?" he asked. "One of the most unpleasant men I have ever had the misfortune to meet," she confirmed, and Mark winced at the harsh words. He hesitated before speaking again, knowing that what he was about to say could change his life forever. "What if..." he began, then nervously chewed his lower lip before continuing. "What if I was to stay like this for a while longer? I mean what if I did not go back to work immediately we got back?" Sarah raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Are you saying that you want to continue to live as a woman once we get off this ship?" Mark met her stare. He had already said and admitted too much for things to ever be they way they once were. And he was enjoying the way in which people now treated him. As a man he knew that he would never change, he had caused so much ill-will that he would never be allowed to. But as a woman it was like he had been given a second chance. His answer was clear and with no hint of hesitation. "Yes," he said.

Nov 201520

A Novelette - Teenage Tearaway Tamed (Part Two)

---cdata-eal-admin--- short story

A Novelette

In Part One, Steve was a young football hooligan from a children's home. But when he went to live with Jill, a childless widow, it all changed and Steve was transformed into a beautiful girl called Samantha... Samantha awoke feeling the luxury of her satin negligee around her, the soft feminine comfort of her knickers. It was hard to believe that this was not some fantasy. She climbed out of bed and slid out of the negligee, letting it slide into a heap at her feet. She ran her hands through her hair and then put on her wrap and went to the bathroom. Jill was surprised to find that while Samantha's efforts at dressing and make-up were not expert, they were passable. On the journey to town she could feel Samantha go tense. She realised what an ordeal this would be for her. It was with some reluctance that Samantha climbed out of the car - she was rigid with fear. Gone was the boy full of bravado and fight, here was a rather innocent and insecure-looking girl. "You may find that boys and dirty old men give you lingering looks," Jill warned. "You either ignore them or give a look of contempt. Some eyes will undress you, thinking of the feminine charms that lie concealed. Female looks will vary between interest, jealousy or contempt." Samantha stepped daintily alongside Jill, who smiled at the small, feminine steps. "You may be embarrassed at choosing girls things so if you don't show a preference I'll do it for you." said Jill. "What do I need?" whispered Samantha. "Two skirts, a couple of blouses, a casual dress, an evening dress, another pair of shoes, jewellery. Perhaps a suspender belt, stockings and tights. A handbag to match the dress." Two hours later everything had been chosen except the evening dress. Jill saw the one that would suit Samantha - it was electric blue taffeta with a tight bodice and could be worn strapless. The ruffles around the top of the bodice did a lot to hide the plunging neckline, and the long shapely skirt would ensure that Samantha's steps remained short and dainty."You must try it on, Samantha" said Jill. The assistant turned to Jill. "Your daughter?" she asked. "No." replied Jill. "A most beautiful girl. Is she in the modelling business by any chance?" "No, she's training to be a secretary" replied Jill with a slight smile. Suddenly the assistant turned away: "I'll just go and see how she's getting on in the changing room..."

Before Jill could stop the woman she was in the changing room. Samantha was bent down, just beginning to pull the dress up. The assistant had a complete view of the bra cups filled with tissues and the truth hit her immediately. "I would suggest madame wear a waist-clincher with this dress, it would give a more feminine definition to the figure. We have just the thing..." she said, an amused glint in her eyes. In no time she was back with the waist clincher, which she pulled so tight that Samantha nearly screamed. "The things us girls do to look lovely!" smiled the assistant. Jill loved the result and bought matching gloves and a clutch bag. She insisted that Samantha leave the waist clincher on. She had spent a fortune but she could afford it - and she was gratified that Samantha had thanked her so profusely. They did not venture out for the next week. Jill was a hard task-master and made Samantha learn the more feminine skills, She was intrigued at how Samantha fell day by day into more girlish attitudes and gestures. Jill finally suggested that Samantha go for a walk on her own. Samantha kept coming up with reasons why she should not, but Jill insisted, so she dressed in a floral print dress, belted at the waist, with stockings and high heels. She put on a cashmere jacket that Jill had lent her on account of the chilly air. Samantha breathed deeply and sighed. She loved her vulnerability, the feel of the breeze between her legs, and she passed one or two boys who seemed to eye her appreciatively. She found a bench in the local park, spread her skirt and petticoats beneath her and sat in what she hoped was a totally feminine fashion. It was nice to sit in the early morning and just reflect on things. For the first time in her life she was her own person, she had to impress nobody, and she could be open with her feelings. Already she was realising that Steve was emotionally crippled, that all his life he'd had to compete for any love or care. For Samantha it was very different. She looked at things that Steve never dared to see - the beauty of the flowers and birds. She was more responsible and sensible than Steve, the pushy tactics that he used, along with the swagger and hard-boy act, were gone.

Jill sat at her desk and opened her diary, beginning to write. "The change in Steve is stunning since he's taken on the feminine trappings of Samantha. Not only has he adapted to the role almost as if born to it, but seems a happier person in himself. Life is so much easier with Samantha. What I feared at first to be an unsavoury mission has turned out to be the most fantastic voyage of discovery. Perhaps more boys should be treated this way. I have seen a caterpillar change into a chrysalis and from there into one of the loveliest butterflies. It is time the butterfly was shown to the world." During the next week Jill became decidedly more dominant, forcing Samantha to take on an even more submissive role. She worked on Samantha's deportment, gestures, speech and eating habits. Every little unfeminine movement was criticised. She was amazed at how the once-forbidding Steve gave ground as Samantha. Jill smiled at the little pouts and demure looks. They were so natural that Samantha did not even realise she was making them. She even watched her burst into tears of frustration over the typewriter. Jill decided to ask Trevor Jones, her literary agent, and his wife Janice to eat with them at a favourite restaurant. When the day came, Samantha was full of nervous excitement as Jill helped her fasten the waist clincher. She padded the bra and rolled the black lace stockings up her smooth legs and fastened them into position. The long silk slip slid over her, clinging sexily to her snow white body. She then fastened herself into her blue satin dress and slipped on the high heels. Sitting by her dressing table, she moisturised her face and put on a light layer of foundation. She used a black eye pencil to fill in the inner rim of her eyes, and delicately blushed her cheeks. Looking at her brows, she took out her tweezers, and plucked and carefully arched them. Samantha fixed the false eyelashes into place and applied three layers of mascara. Her eyeshadow was delicately built in layers to give definition. A soft shade of lipstick enhanced her feminine lips. Slowly, she teased and worked on her hair, taking a full hour to get it to the style she wanted. She removed the sleepers from her ears, and fitted large drop earrings. She slipped on the silver bracelets and pearl necklace. Jill entered the room to the smell of nail varnish as Samantha applied her second layer. How quickly she had learned! Samantha sprayed herself with expensive perfume, put odds and ends into her clutch bag, slipped on her little white lace gloves and turned to look at Jill. Jill took a deep breath; she felt the stirrings of trouble. Nothing was out of place, in fact Samantha looked perfect - too perfect. She was going to turn heads, there was no doubt about that. Jill helped Samantha on with the white stole she was lending her and they left by taxi for the restaurant.

Samantha was introduced as Jill's niece, and the Joneses spoke kindly to her. Jill noticed that Trevor seemed intrigued by Samantha and that she seemed flattered by the attention. Trevor had always been a ladies' man and it was only down to Janice's great love and forebearance that they were still married. Samantha was now being swept off her feet by his glib talk, sharp humour, flashing eyes and handsome looks. Samantha was not experienced enough to know that Trevor's talk and comments were the opening moves of seduction. After the meal, the lights went down and soft music began to play, so Trevor wheeled Samantha onto the dance floor. Janice looked at Jill questioningly. "If you'll excuse me, when this dance is over I'll take my niece for a quiet word" said Jill. Janice only nodded. "The problem is, she has never met men like Trevor and thinks it's all just innocent fun. She's only sixteen and has so much to learn." Jill carried on making excuses in embarrassment as she watched the goings on on the dance floor. When the dance was over, Jill grabbed Samantha's arm. "Talk time." she whispered angrily. They walked into the ladies and Jill was glad it was empty. She turned round to face Samantha and slapped her around the face. "Listen to me young lady. I know this is a big night for you. Perhaps it's the wine, perhaps it's everything, but you are flirting with Trevor, whether you realise it or not. I know you're flattered by his attention and you're responding because you want to see how far you can keep up the pretence, but Trevor isn't playing. He's my agent and I know him. In the next ten minutes he'll start groping, then we'll both be in trouble. Promise me it stops now or we go home." Samantha looked down at her shoes sulkily. "I'm sorry, it stops now." Steve's four weeks of being a girl were now at an end, and Jill and Samantha faced each other in Jill's living room. "So, what happens now?" asked Jill. "How do things stand with you?" asked Samantha, playing with her bracelet, not wanting to commit herself. "For Steve there is a place at college doing mechanics and I think we could wangle enough money out of the social services to cover a bedsit. How long, though, would it be before Steve was in trouble again?" Samantha only shrugged, still confused. "For Samantha there would be a place here as long as she wanted it" Jill continued. "I'd like her to do a secretarial course at college, and as I know the instructor there'd be no embarrassment." Samantha looked down at her feet. "What would we tell Griffin, my social worker, if I stayed with you?" "The truth." replied Jill.

Later that evening, the social worker Jeffrey Griffin watched Jill walk into the bar, and they settled themselves into a quiet corner with their drinks. "Now, what's all this about?" Jeffrey asked. Jill replied matter of factly: "For the last four weeks, your young tearaway football hooligan has been living as a girl." Jeffrey spluttered into his beer. "Jill! You could get me fired!" he cried in shock. "It's what he wanted. Don't you understand? The hard man front was hiding a very beautiful person who felt he could only function in the role of a female. That,s why he was always in trouble, trying to show the world he was a man." Jeffrey was stunned into silence. "Jeffrey, that's the way Steve wants to stay. He's now called Samantha, and is so beautiful and considerate, not at all like the boy you sent me." "So where exactly is 'she' going to live, and what is 'she' going to do for money?" he asked. "She, as you put it, is going to live with me and go to college. She will pay her way by typing up manuscripts for my publishers." By the time Samantha arrived, Jeffrey had regained his composure. Watching the slim, well dressed girl coming towards them made him wish he was young again. "Jeffrey, meet Samantha" Jeffrey looked silently at the petite figure. Everything fell into place now, and he could sense Samantha's nervousness. "Sit down, would you like a drink?" "Orange juice please" Samantha felt the electric whisper of her nylons as they crossed. The sensual feel of her tedy against her bare skin. She loved the way the hem of her petticoat showed just beneath her skirt in thick white ruffles. Jill smiled gently, encouraging Samantha to speak. "I'd like to have hormone treatment and breast implants but not for a while, not until I'm more sure of myself." Jeffrey watched Jill and Samantha leave, hardly able to believe that the beautiful girl was the former delinquent Steve. He shook his head and gathered up the empty glasses. The End

Nov 201520

NEW DRESS AND GO PACKAGE

---cdata-eal-admin--- frequently asked questions, how to guides

All you need for instant He to She Transformation.

Saves you up to £400 on Transformation prices. If your unsure what you need for a total He to She Transformation, then our great value Dress and Go package, that is only available at Transformation shop, is ideal for you. Here is what we include in your Dress and Go package. Yes , that’s everything we know you will need to Transform yourself into a beautiful sexy female ready to go out and enjoy the thrill and that buzz of passing as a female; Sensual breasts, Lacey Bra, matching Lacey Knickers, Slinky Suspenderbelt, Sheer stockings or tights, black patent high heels(or low if preferred), glamorous wig, Silky blouse or clingy top, skirt -knee length or mini, alternatively a Sexy dress instead of skirt and blouse, cosmetics, jewellery and accessories. That’s over 16 items, in your Dress and Go package. Included in the price you pay, we will also book you into our beauty salon for a complete he to she make-over make up application and wig styling with one of our expertly trained and experienced beauticians. Your make up application ( inlcluded in the price you pay)can be on the day you purchase your Dress and Go package or on a date in the future to suit your circumstances. Our Dress and Go package starts from as little as £299, saving you upto £200 from our normal shop prices, when purchasing individually. We also have a Deluxe Dress and Go package that will save you upto £400 and includes Silicone breasts, Victorian boned corsets to pull in your manly waist and a top of the range wig. For more details of our Dress and Go packages , ring or visit our Transformation shop today.

Nov 201520

Teenage Tearaway Tamed - A Novelette

---cdata-eal-admin--- short story

A Novelette

Steve was a young football hooligan from a children's home. But when he went to live with Jill, a childless widow, it all changed and Steve was to be transformed into a beautiful girl called Samantha... Jill Withers lived in a secluded house off the main New Forest Road. She was a professional writer in her early forties, who was still attractive but had lived alone since her husband died five years earlier. Sometimes she felt depressed, lonely and less than a woman because she had no children, but the outside world saw only her brave smile. She helped fill the void by fostering problem children from time to time - she had a good record of success, and it brought in a little extra money too. The phone rang: "Hello, Jill?" said a voice that she recognised as that of Jeffrey Griffin, a local social worker. "I've got a case for you, if you're interested. Young tearaway, sixteen, called Steve Bell. He's at the orphanage, but they're on the point of throwing him out. Went to court today for football violence and got a £200 fine. Looks like a cherub, but he's a proper little hooligan." "Any offences against women?" asked Jill. "I don't want a rapist on my hands." "Nothing like that - all for football. I can't make up my mind whether they're acts of frustrated anger or misplaced loyalty. You can look at the case file when you come to my office." Jeffrey came out to greet her as she arrived, ushered her in and gave her Steve's case file. "Steve Bell, aged 16, nationality British" Jill read as she opened the file. The facts were bleak. Steve was quite an expert football hooligan, had recieved several fines and was presently on probation. "Makes unhappy reading" she said to Jeffrey. "If he's nicked again, they'll send him down. They're running out of time and patience. The strange thing is there's a different side to him that few people see. A quiet, sensitive boy, a very frightened boy. I just can't get to the bottom of him, Jill. There's something hidden inside of him that he's afraid to show the world, something he's ashamed of."

Jill always insisted on meeting a client alone. When Steve Bell arrived she was surprised - he was slender and about 5 feet 4 inches tall. He wasn't just handsome; if he had been a girl he would have been beautiful - what a waste of such looks!! "Sit down Steve," said Jill, holding up the file. "Are you really the perpetrator of all this?" Steve looked sheepish. "Yes Ma'am" "My name is Jill, not Ma'am," she said. "Steve, you realise that next time, the people with power are going to lock you away?" "I guess so." Jill sensed his embarrassment. "Doesn't it matter?" "Not really. I've no job and no home. Who'd care?" he shrugged. "Then you're finished, aren't you? I mean, if you've no hope then your life is all but over." Steve simply sighed. "Steve, given the chance, your life could be different." He looked at her curiously. "How?" "You'll stay with me and work for me. If you don't like me or I don't like you then we go our own sweet ways and you're on your own." "What would I have to do?" "Not a lot. Housework, some gardening and a few chores. You'll be paid." He looked at her carefully. "And what do you get out of it?" "Enough money to cover your board - and satisfaction if you make the grade." "Satisfaction, that's a joke." Jill could see Steve's need to believe but he was still suspicious. Jill threw the file down on the desk. "In 2 minutes I walk out of this room, with or without your answer. I could be your last chance, Steve. One day, you could have a fight and someone could be killed. Is that what has to happen so you can earn a manly reputation?" Jill pushed her chair back and made to walk out. "I'll come." he said quietly.

Steve arrived at the house two days later, and was impressed by the size of the property. Jill met him at the door and smiled, then showed him into the lounge where there was a sense of calm and tranquillity. It was as if a load was being lifted from his shoulders. Jill studied her new lodger; he seemed somehow even more beautiful and vulnerable than before. There was a look of longing, pain and sadness in his eyes that made her want to grab him and hug him like a mother. Jill was amazed at Steve's ability to amuse himself. Within days of his arrival he became a different person. He was full of thoughtful acts and was surprisingly sensitive, yet Jill still felt that he was holding something back from her. In most things, Steve was quite forward, but something was obviously bothering him. One morning Jill was driving towards town when she remembered she'd forgotten her bank ATM card. She swore under her breath and turned back. As she climbed out of the car she could hear Steve's record player. Well, she thought, there was no need to disturb him, she would go straight to her room, find her card and go back to the shops. She opened the door and then stood rigid with shock. There was Steve, dressed as she had left him, except that he was wearing her high heeled shoes. A large pink bow tied his fairly long hair into a pony tail. He turned round and she immediately saw that his face was made-up like a beautiful girl's. She felt breathless as she made her way to the bed and sat down. Steve looked at her open mouthed. As Jill gained her composure she realised he was afraid. This was obviously what Steve had been holding from her all this time. Little by little over the weeks he had been opening up like a beautiful flower, dropping little hints that she should have recognised. "I think you'd better put some coffee on" she said with a sigh. "I'll clean this off," mumbled Steve. "No, go just the way you are. I'll meet you in the lounge." "Are you going to tell Griffin?" Steve asked nervously. "I'm not doing anything until we've talked." She watched him leave the room, amused by the way his high heels made his bottom wiggle, just like a girl's. Jill made her way downstairs after recovering from her intial surpsrise. Steve came into the lounge, taking dainty little steps because of the heels on his shoes and carefully balancing the tray of coffee. Jill was amazed at how a little make-up had changed him so completely. What would happen, she wondered, if he wore a dress? How had she missed it all before? She was usually proud of her woman's intuition, but this time it had let her down. "Well?" she asked, trying to sound relaxed. "Are you going to tell me everything?". Steve took a deep breath and fell silent. "I don't think I can." he finally said. "Steve, you have to. If you don't, I've no option but to refer you back to Jeffrey Griffin. More importantly, for your own sake you have to unburden your soul. Trust me, give me a chance to help you."

Steve sighed and started slowly: "Ever since I was a small child, life has been hard for me. When my mum remarried, my step-dad thought the world of my sister, but me, I was an obstacle. How I envied my sister. How I wished I could be a girl like her, and receive the same care and attention she got. My step-dad made Mum send me off to a home, and she tried to convince herself I'd be better off there. At first she came to see me, but eventually the visits stopped. There were no presents, no cards at Christmas or birthdays. "I was teased about my looks. I was ribbed for caring about people, about things. That was okay for girls, but not boys. I thought: If this was the case, why wasn't I a girl? I felt confused, I envied girls, their freedom of emotion, of speech. "Nobody had time for me or the person inside, so gradually I built a different image, one that was more macho. It got to the stage where nobody ribbed me because I'd punch them in the mouth. I ridiculed any show of concern or care in others, because it had been ridiculed in me. I wouldn't allow myself to see the beauty of the flowers in the field. I didn't dare, I couldn't, yet all the time I envied a pretty girl the clothes she could wear and the way she could live. "I'd love for a while to be a girl, or to be like one. To let all the barricades come down and see if this is really what I should be." Steve paused for a second. His eyes were swollen and he shook with emotion. Jill was stunned by the intensity of Steve's words and those beautiful eyes, enhanced by mascara, reflecting his pain. He was like a starving child reaching for a piece of bread, and she wanted to soothe away his sobs. "I have this illusion of feminine purity and innocence," he went on. "When I was with my mates I didn't have to see or feel, I just had to be. It was acceptable for me to punch someone's head in but it wasn't acceptable for me to feel or dress like a girl. Believe me, it's not for any sexual reason or because I fancy boys or anything like that - it's a soul journey." He stopped, the tears now plainly visible in his eyes. "I'm mad, aren't I?" "No," whispered Jill. "Just betrayed by people, by society, by yourself." She opened her arms and held him to herself, like a mother does her child. Her body ached with the injustice of it all. This was probably the first time in his life he had confided his thoughts and feelings to anyone. How could she betray him to Jeffrey Griffin, however good a friend he was?

"What will you tell Griffin?" asked Steve. "Nothing yet, not until we've got things sorted out." She managed to compose herself. "I'm going to town - I'll be a couple of hours or so." Jill spent nearly four hours in town. When she returned she was laden with parcels. "Could you give me a hand and take these upstairs?" she asked. Jill sighed as she put the parcels on the bed. She tried to be natural, but was nervous as she rummaged in her bags and came out with a high-legged teddy, all in royal blue silk with inch-wide lace trimming. There was a matching pair of panties and a bra. "I'll go and clear the rubbish area" said Steve. Jill smiled. He was obviously embarrassed, thinking he was unpacking her smalls. "No, Steve, don't go. These are for you." she said in what she hoped was a natural voice. Jill took out a white, sleeveless, polo-necked woollen top and a black skirt. Steve stood transfixed, suddenly afraid. "What if it was all a mistake, a fantasy?" he asked. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there Steve?" Jill said, throwing him a pack of designer tights. "Put on your bra and panties, then the tights, then the teddy. Roll the tights up your legs, don't pull. When you've done that, give me a call." She turned and left her bedroom. Steve felt nervous, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He wanted to put on the clothes but was afraid. Yet he also felt a strange excitement as he found himself divesting of his clothes. He could not believe how soft and sensuous the panties and bra felt. He filled the bra cups with tissues. The tights felt erotically electric, seductiveley gentle as he rolled them up his legs and into place. The teddy hid the filling of the bra cup and he felt sensuous, but more than that he felt feminine. Jill entered the room and smiled, "Suits you," she said. All hint of masculinity was now hidden, and with the padded bra, Steve's shape had become decidedley feminine. She handed him the slip and then helped him into the sleeveless jumper. Then she fastened the skirt around him and tightened the wide black leather belt. He pulled on the white shoes with their three-inch heels. Next, Jill made him up, showing him how to apply foundation, blusher, eyeshadows, mascara, eyepencils and lipstick. She shaped his broken nails into some sort of feminine style before applying two coats of varnish. Despite Steve's half-hearted protests, she highlighted and permed his hair into a distinctly feminine style. It was when she lit a candle and began to heat a needle that Steve became concerned. Jill picked up a cork - "Sit still" she muttered. She put the cork behind the lobe of one of his ears and pierced it quickly, repeating the performance on his other ear. Steve yelped in pain and surprise, and ignoring his unlady-like curses, she put sleepers into his newly pierced ears. Finally, she hung a choker necklace around Steve's neck and a large silver bracelet on each wrist. She took Steve's hand and led him to the mirror. "Is this really me?" he asked, his voice taking on a softer tone. "Yes, it's you. Steve, I'm going to put myself on the line for you. For one month you're going to be the girl you think you want to be. But remember, being a girl is fulltime, not just when you feel like it. The only way you will know whether your feelings are real is to live them out."

She collected the make-up, the handbag and a trendy jacket. "Take these to your room." Steve looked out of the window, it was already evening. He gently opened a carrier bag and pulled out a negligee with two pairs of matching knickers and a wrap. There were also two bras and further knickers. Jill made dinner and waited to hear footsteps on the stairs. She smiled as Steve minced almost daintily into the kitchen and sat at the table. "There are certain ways ladies sit, Steve, with their legs together or crossed. They also eat slowly, take smaller mouthfuls and chew in a more delicate fashion." Steve blushed slightly, and all through the meal he found himself being corrected. After dinner they sat in the lounge, and Jill looked at Steve carefully. "Okay, these are the rules. I can't go on calling you Steve, so from now on you'll be Samantha. Tomorrow we'll go to town and choose some more clothes. When we return you'll spend an hour cleaning and doing chores." Jill looked at the pouting figure with 'her' arms laid delicately in 'her' lap and legs tightly crossed. It was hard to visualise that this 'girl' could possibly be Steve. "We'll try some dressmaking and typing, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. You are entering a female world. You may be beautiful but there's more to femininity than sitting pretty, if you decide you love this life you will need a job." Steve finally spoke: "Jill, I'm scared..." Jill touched the hand that lay in Samantha's lap and squeezed it. "But isn't this what you wanted, Samantha? Learn to let your soul take over. Learn to feel and be yourself." Samantha?? Well, it wasn't too bad. He would have to think of himself as that. He would look stupid telling someone his name was Steve dressed like this. "Thanks, Jill" he said. Jill smiled. "Go to bed, and sleep well. You have a big day tomorrow." Part two >>>

Nov 201520

A History of the Bra

---cdata-eal-admin--- special interest

A Brief Look At The History of the Female Bra

The first modern brassiere to receive a patent was one invented by a New York socialite named Mary Phelps Jacob in 1913. Mary had just purchased a sheer evening gown for one of her social events. At that time, the only acceptable undergarment was a corset stiffened with whaleback bones. Mary found that the whalebones poked out visible around the plunging neckline and under the sheer fabric. Two silk handkerchiefs and some pink ribbon later, Mary had designed an alternative to the corset. The corset's reign was starting to topple. Mary Phelps Jacob's new undergarment complimented the new fashions introduced at the time and demands from friends and family were high for the new brassiere. On November 3, 1914, a patent for the 'Backless Brassiere' issued. Caresse Crosby was the business name Jacob used for her brassiere production. Running a business was not enjoyable to Jacob and she soon sold the brassiere patent to the Warner Brothers Corset Company in Bridgeport, Connecticut, for $1,500. Warner (the bra-makers, not the movie-makers) made over fifteen million dollars from the bra patent over the next thirty years. Mary Phelps Jacob was the first to patent an undergarment named 'Brassiere' derived from the old French word for 'upper arm'. Her patent was for a device that was lightweight, soft and separated the breasts naturally. In 1875, manufacturers George Frost and George Phelps patented the 'Union Under-Flannel', a no bones, no eyelets, and no laces or pulleys under-outfit. In 1889, corset-maker Herminie Cadolle invented the 'Well-Being', a bra-like device sold as a health aid. The corset's support for the breasts squeezed up from below. Cadolle changed breast support to the shoulders down. World War I dealt the corset a fatal blow when the U.S. War Industries Board called on women to stop buying corsets in 1917. It freed up some 28,000 tons of metal! In 1928, a Russian immigrant named Ida Rosenthal founded Maidenform. Ida was responsible for grouping women into bust-size categories (cup sizes).

Nov 201520

Disguised in Skirts (Part 3)

---cdata-eal-admin--- short story

It was morning break when they arrived and Roger just wanted to sink through the ground as he walked down the corridors holding his mother's hand - every single girl seemed to be staring at him, guessing his guilty secret. Miss Jacobs was a tall darkly attractive woman wearing an elegant pale blue suit with a silk tie-neck blouse. She came round her huge desk staring at Roger as she came. "My God! Is this really a boy?" She asked. Roger blushed. "He was the last time I looked", my mother laughed. "He's very convincing - very convincing indeed. I would never have guessed. What do you call him?" "Rita. Say how do you do, Rita." "How do you do?" Roger muttered. "Very well thank you, Rita," Miss Jacobs smiled. "Well, what do you think?" his mother asked. "No problem, Annie. No problem at all, providing Rita is prepared to play her part providing she is prepared to behave properly as a girl - no fighting or anything like that." "There will be no problems, Hazel. I give you my word. Right, Rita?" "Yes." Roger whispered. What else could he do? The next day was spent buying the school uniform - green gymslips, green gingham summer dresses, green school coat, green knickers, white blouses and socks and two pairs of simple flat heeled black shoes. They did not, of course, have to buy any sportswear. As soon as they got home Roger was made to parade around in his new school uniform. His mother was delighted with the whole outfit. Roger groaned inwardly as he realised that in three and a half weeks he would be wearing it everyday. He had tried several times to convince his mother that the danger of his father finding them had long past - they had been safe for nearly a month, but she would have none of it. And so it was that Roger gradually learned to be a girl - to be Rita in more than just a name. His first few weeks at school were a nightmare as he tried to fit in with his giggling feminine companions, as he learned not only the normal school lessons but found himself learning how to cook and dance. But he was and intelligent lad and, like most children, extremely adaptable. Thus he slowly came to accept his new life as a girl.

It was the best part of two years before his mother eventually felt it was safe for him to discard his disguise. By this time he was even wearing a lightly padded bra to suggest the gentle swelling of female breast to his school companions. Again, although, Roger never actually told me, I got the impression that her mother, and indeed even Miss Jacobs, was both very sorry to see Rita disappear. As for Roger, it was a traumatic experience for him. For two years he had been conditioned to be gentle and feminine. He had grown to feel completely at home in dresses and skirts and had made a number of close girl friends. He had learned to look upon boys as the opposite sex - creatures to be flirted with - smiled at, but kept at a distance. Suddenly all this life was over. All the close girl friends he had made at school he would never be able to see again. The last two years were to be wiped out. In fact Roger ended up having a nervous breakdown and was in hospital of nearly three months. When he came out he had to relearn how to be a boy - to go to a boy's school - to play rough games. Not surprisingly, it was a disaster. All the other boys laughed at his ingrained feminine characteristics. Eve his speech patterns had become feminised. He only had to open his mouth in the classroom for the other boys to be mocking him - blowing him kisses or calling him a poofter. Gradually he withdrew more and more into himself, only happy with the few new girlfriends he had managed to make. But, unfortunately, he was quite unable to share the little feminine intimacies he had previously with girls when he was also one. It was well over two years before he was able to come to terms with his role as a boy again - to eradicate most of his feminine characteristics, but he was scarred for life, condemned to live the rest of his life in a sort of halfway house. His mother was unsympathetic to his predicament and happily allowed him to dress as a girl at home in the evenings. It was not that he wanted to become a woman; he was, in other words, not a transsexual. He had simply become a dedicated transvestite who enjoyed wearing women's clothes as often as possible - enjoyed being able to behave like a woman - to be gentle and feminine as he had learned to be during those two years when he had been Rita. Eventually he qualified as a civil engineer, of all things, and got offered a good job by a firm in Manchester, which he accepted. Two years ago his mother met and married a somewhat older American architect who had come over to work in Manchester for a year. At the end of the year they had both returned to America, leaving Roger the sole occupant of the little flat in Didsbury, where he still lived. By now everyone in the flats around had realised that he was a transvestite and seemed happy bumping into him on the stairs when he was dressed as a woman. For now his life seemed to have divided itself into two distinct areas - the daytime when he worked as a very successful male engineer, and the evening when he became Rita again - the girl, now grown up, who had been created out of the fear that his father would find him and make him go home. Roger - or rather Rita had not heard of our little parties at the Dog & Partridge, so I decided to take her along with me. She proved to be the centre of attraction, not only because of her gentle charm but also her extraordinary natural femininity, which most of the other guests watched with envy and fascination. But, of course, what they did not know was that she had lived as a girl full-time for two glorious years. That was something nobody could take away from her. The End

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