I can’t,” He whispered.

“You’ve got to,” She replied, firmly but encouragingly.

“Lift up your arms,” she ordered. He continued to stare at her.

“Do you want me to put you on that train?” He shook his head vigorously.

“Then lift up your arms.” Slowly he did as he was told and his mother slipped the dress over his head. She knelt down in front of him and did up the little buttons down the front of the bodice. She stood up and looked at him, nodding her head with satisfaction. The dress fitted him perfectly. With his full head of now blonde hair nobody would associate him with Roger, she decided.

“Sit down,” she said kindly, handing him the white ankle socks to put on. As he pulled them on his mother produced a flat heeled pair of white court shoes. They fitted perfectly.

“Come over to the dressing table,” she said.

He went over and sat down in front of the mirror staring in horror at the little girl that was him.

“It’s lucky we managed to stop your father having all you hair cut off,” his mother said. It was, in fact, almost shoulder length – not at all uncommon in the early seventies.

“No!” Roger protested as he saw his mother produce two wide pink ribbons.

“Don’t be silly, Roger,” she sighed, “It’s all part of the disguise.”

Roger sat silent and miserable as he watched his mother tie two large bows in his blonde hair – one each side of his head.

“There,” she said triumphantly, “Nobody would ever guess that you were a boy now. You really do look very convincing,” she smiled.

“It’s so embarrassing,” muttered Roger.

“You’ll soon get used to it,” his mother assured him brightly.

He stood up, his beribboned head downcast, his hands automatically searching for non-existent pockets. Eventually he simply clasped them in front of his skirts.

“Rita – that’s what we’ll call you. From now on you’re Rita. Alright?”

“How long” How long do I have to be a girl? he asked.

“Until we’re safe, darling. As soon as we’re safe you can be Roger again,” his mother assured him.

“But how long will that be?” Roger persisted.

“Don’t be silly Roger – Rita, how do I know? We’ll just have to see how things go. Come on now, help me get packed up. We’ve got to get away from here as soon as possible.”

Roger helped his mother pack. She insisted on packing all his clothes in one suitcase this time which took a bit of re-organising. She did not tell him but the lot would be dropped off at the nearest Oxfam shop. She wanted no incriminating evidence left around.

She gave Roger a little white cardigan to wear before they left the room, her carrying two suitcases and Roger carrying one. As they entered the car park Roger felt the breeze explore his skirts and unaccustomedly bare legs.

“My legs are cold,” He complained. His Mother laughed as she heaved the cases into the boot.

“You’ll soon get used to it. I suppose I could buy you a pair of tights if you like.”

“NO! It’s alright,” He assured her hurriedly.

They both sat in the car as his mother put on a head scarf – she did not want the hotel receptionist to notice that she’d dyed her hair blonde when she went to settle the bill.

By mid-afternoon they were in the Didsbury area of Manchester looking for a furnished flat to rent. By six o’clock they were unpacking their suitcases in an attractive little two bedroomed flat on the second floor of a large Victorian house on a broad tree lined road.

Roger’s mother had rented the flat in her maiden name – Brown, a name so common that her husband would find it virtually impossible to trace her.The next day she opened a new bank account in her new name. Roger had pleaded to remain in the flat but she insisted on taking him with her. He had to get used to wearing girl’s clothes in public and the sooner the better, she assured him.

Three time that morning complete strangers had told his mother what a pretty girl she had. Roger had squirmed with embarrassment, but his mother was delighted – obviously the disguise was excellent.

It took only ten days for his mother to find herself a job in a large firm of architects in Manchester. During those ten days she had dragged Roger round most of the stores in Manchester buying him a whole wardrobe full of girl’s clothes from dresses to skirts to blouses to underwear to nightdresses. All his male clothes had disappeared and so he was now totally committed to wearing girl’s clothes all the time, whether he liked it or not.

By the time his mother had permed his blonde hair into little curls – a process he only agreed to when she promised that he would not have to wear ribbons anymore, and he had gradually got more accustomed to wearing skirts and being introduced to everyone as Rita, the problem of his schooling arose.

“We’ll have no problem getting you into a school next term,” his mother assured him.

“But I can’t go to a girl’s school!” Roger protested, “I’d never get away with it. What about games – showers and things?”

“My closest friend at University is now a headmistress at one of the best girl’s schools in Manchester. I’m going to see her tomorrow. I’m shall tell her the whole story. I’m sure she will be able to help – she’s always been a very resourceful lady.”

The next day Roger was left in the flat on his own while his mother went to see her old friend. He was wearing a little blue skirt and a white frilly blouse that had taken his mother’s fancy in Debenham’s earlier in the week.

Indeed, she hardly ever went out these days without coming back with some pieces of female clothing for Roger to wear. She seemed to be enjoying having a daughter!

Roger was sitting in the bay window watching the traffic going by when he heard the door bell ring. His heart started thumping – should he answer? He waited. Again it rung. Reluctantly, his knees almost knocking, he went into the hall and slowly opened the door a little. Outside was a girl of a similar age. She was dressed up in jeans and a t-shirt.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“I live in the flat underneath. My name’s Polly and I wondered if you would like to come down ad play. What’s your name?”

“Roger, Rita,” he corrected quickly.

“That’s a nice name,” she smiled. “Do you want to come and play?”

“”I can’t. My mother’s out and she said I wasn’t to leave the flat while she was away.”

“Oh, well, never mind – perhaps tomorrow,” she suggested.

“Yes, perhaps tomorrow,” Roger agreed. “Goodbye”

“Goodbye,” she grinned as Roger closed the door again. This was something he’d never though about – he would be expected to play with other little girls as if he was a real one!

His mother was full of herself when she got back. Roger was careful to say nothing about Polly’s visit – he did not want to be made to play with her.

His mother’s friend Miss Jacobs had been delighted to see her again and had been extremely sympathetic about her broken marriage and predicament with Roger. She wanted to meet Roger and, provided that she felt that he was really convincing as a girl, she would enrol him in the school as a girl. Roger would be officially excused all games and P.E. on the basis of some obscure medical condition.

The following day Roger was taken to meet Miss Jacobs at the school. His mother had dressed him in the pink gingham dress that she had bought for him in Birmingham, explaining that it looked a bit like a school uniform and anyone who saw him at the school would simply think he went to another school… To be continued…

 The Office Boy

My name was Mike Grant, and I say was, because it's different now. I have two years of college and I'm taking classes at night to finish with a degree in Business. In order to support my school expenses and have some spending money, I found a job working in an office as sort of a glorified office boy. I'm 5' 7" tall with soft brown hair and blue eyes and I have never weighed more than 140 in my entire life. Valerie Hooper, the woman I report to is in charge of the office, and also prepares parties for Christmas and so on. Valerie is about 50, married, with two sons and a husband. For Halloween she wanted everyone to come to work in costume, fully expecting a lot of monsters or ghosts. When I told her I wanted to do something different but had no idea of what, or who, to come as, she smiled and told me that I could easily come as Diane Benson, the actress, when she was my age! "You have the same facial structure she does, and with the right makeup you could be her twin Mike. Think about it and let me know. That night I told my mother what Valerie had suggested, and to my surprise she agreed! "I can help you if you like Mike. Your sister still has a lot of her clothes here so that would not be a problem. Besides, it could be a lot of fun!" I told her that I would think about it. For years I was lonely, depressed, angry at myself, the world, and the gods that made me this way. I knew I was smart and had a good job, but at age 20, I was still driven by urges I never had any control over, no matter how hard I tried. I often felt the urge to dress as a girl, but each time I did, and then looked in the mirror, I saw a clown instead of the woman I wanted to be. Including my makeup, I was merely a parody of the woman in my dreams. My frustration at my inability to achieve any semblance of the woman I felt I wanted to become had driven me into silent secrecy when I did try to dress up. That night, in my robe, I munched snacks as the television played in a muted tone. The young women on the screen were a constant reminder of what I wanted to be able to look like, and equally, my inability to either conquer my desires, or forget it, or become the woman I had so many dreams about. In my heart I knew I was going to do it, because even though I had secretly tried on my sister's clothes many times when I was growing up, and always felt like a clown, this time I would have my mother to help me. My mother's tacit approval lifted the veil of frustration and I felt as if I was soaring. I knew, in my heart, that this time, I would look good. Since Claire was just a year older than I was, most of her clothes fit me pretty well, and I was sure that with some help, I could look pretty nice. My biggest concern was how everyone in the office would react to me dressed as a girl. The next morning, when I told mom about my concerns, she told me that in her mind, the best way, if I was going to do it, would for me to be perfect. Since I didn't want to come off as a clown or one of those freak of the week people, I agreed. "I'll get a few things today and we can see how you do tomorrow. If you like it then you can stay dressed as a girl until Monday." Someone once said that tears are merely a reflection of the soul, whether its fear, joy, or sadness. All those years of hiding, frustration, fear, and secrecy came to a head all at once, and I started to cry. Why are you crying Michael? This is what you want isn't it? To live and work as a female?" My head popped up, and out came, "What!" "I'm sure its true Michael, based on the number of times you wore Claire's clothes!" Shocked that mother knew about my dressing up as a girl, and afraid of what I might blurt out, I kept my mouth shut. "I said I would help you if you let me Michael, and I think that you should practice dressing every day after work, and each weekend from now until the day when you go to work." I started to say something, but mom held her hand up and said, "You did say that you wanted to be perfect didn't you?" "YesÉ" "Well this will give you a few weeks of practice before the party!" I could find nothing more to say about it, swallowed my pride, nodded my head yes, and quietly went to my room. That night I decided that mom was right. I would do the best I could or not at all, and if she already knew about me dressing up and wanted to help me then no matter how I thought I looked it wouldn't matter.

    On Saturday morning right after breakfast mom told me to go to my room. I have everything you'll need. I'll just show you how to use it and you can take it from there." As far as my mother was concerned it was a done deal, and that combined with my natural desires made it easy for me to stay silent in my agreement. Mom gave me the stuff, which I recognized as a popular hair removal cream. As soon as she left the room I stripped and quickly had a coat of the cream all over me, from the eyebrows down. After a shower and a close shave I stepped out and patted myself dry. I had never yet shaved my body or used hair removal cream before, and I was surprised at just how smooth my skin felt. My beard, while not what you would call light, was a light color and only moderate in growth, and after I shaved I had nice soft skin. With the towel wrapped around me I went into Claire's bedroom and closed the door, hesitating for just a moment because I was pretty sure that as soon as I was dressed and stepped out of the room I was not going to want to quit. Ignoring that thought I forged ahead, opened her dresser and selected a pair of lavender colored cotton panties and slipped them on. When Claire was younger she had a shape like a pencil and used a padded pantybrief and some breastforms to give her some shape. I had found them while I was in her room dressing once, and made sure I left them right where I found them. I slipped on the pantybrief, adjusting the pads to suit me. The pantyhose went on easily, but the nylon against my now naked skin was like an electric shock as I slid them on. I went to the vanity and sat down facing the huge mirror. Makeup was the only thing I had managed to almost master simply because that was all I could do on so many occasions. I applied the foundation using a powder to set it, brushing away the excess as soon as it dried, leaving my skin looking soft and smooth. On my eyes I used a mint green with copper and gray highlights with deep black eyeliner both over and under my eyes. A bit of rose blusher on my cheekbones and black mascara on my lashes. My naturally curly hair was thick, and as it was drying the ends started to curl, so with a brush I was able to create a modest if messy pageboy that framed my face. The curly ends added just the right touch to the style. I didn't even need a curling iron. I heard mom knock on the door, and when she came in the room and saw me, she told me that my makeup was fine. "Let me help you with your nails." I opened the small drawer and pulled out the box of fake nails. Using the glue in the box mom attached one to each of my nails and filed them into an oval shape with rounded tips. The polish I selected was one shade up from pink. It took a while for the polish to dry, and while I waited I stood in front of the closet and tried to select what I was going to wear for my first public debut. As soon as my nails were dry I slipped my arms into the lavender bra and settled it in front after I fastened the single front hook. The breastforms were flesh colored, filled with silicone to a small 'B' cup, which was perfect on my frame. The waist nipper was beige with eleven hooks and a zipper, and once I had it on it made my waist a trim 25 inches. Unable to decide on what to wear, mom picked out a light blue floral summer dress for me to wear. She said it would 'go with' my bra and panties. I wore off white sandals and a matching blue jacket. Mom redid my hair a bit and it seemed to flow around my face. I looked in the mirror and was floored! The reflection in the mirror I saw that I did look like Diane Benson in a way and I stood before the mirror in a dream like state looking at the girl standing there. I loved the image I was seeing. The girl that I had only dreamed of stood in front of me, not perfect of course, but I did not feel like a clown this time. The image I saw in the mirror burst all of the illusions I had about my maleness! Inside, in that private place we all have, I knew that I would never again be happy again unless I was able to become this young woman more than once in a while.

    The girl, me, was looking back from the mirror, and like my sister, she is stunning. Her large blue eyes with their long lashes look deeply into me. She has wide, pouty lips highlighted by sensual reddish pink lipstick. Her soft brown hair falls a few inches above her shoulders, styled with bangs, gently brushed without a single hair out of place. White button earrings and a thin white necklace merely enhance the simple blue dress. The simplicity of the dress draws my eyes to my face. Without any fanfare at all I turned to face my mother, and when she looked up I heard her gasp. "Damn!" Mom stood up and had me turn around for her. "If I did not know it was you I never would have guessed that there was a boy under that dress!" "Thank you mother." I sat down facing her, my knees firmly locked together and my hands in my lap. "I can see that you know how to do makeup and get dressed, but how are you in public?" "I've never been out of the house mother." "Then it's time that you experience things all women enjoyÉ like shopping, having your nails done and your hair styled." "Like this!" "Of course dear! How else?" "ButÉbutÉ" I started to sound like a car that needed a tune up, but mother had made up her mind! "Michael, you and I both know that you want to go out and make people think that you are really a girl, don't we? Lets stop pretending that you are so attached to your macho self and admit that you love being a girl." Why did she always know? Are all mothers able to read their children's mind like this? Without waiting for an answer she said, "Get a purse and put your wallet and some lipstick in it and I'll get cleaned up a bit before we go." As I waited for her to get ready I knew that mother was right. I no longer had any reason to use excuses or delaying tactics. The time had come; I had to step outside wearing women's clothes. I had to, and wanted to, act enough like a real girl to convince everyone that would see me that I really was a girl. I had to act in a way that everyone who saw me would believe I was a female. The very thought of being a convincing girl made me feel weak and vulnerable, yet fear was attacking every nerve in my body, and the longer I waited the more my fear grew. Mother finally showed up, but before we left the house she asked me what my girl name was. "I never picked one mother!" "Then why don't we use the name of the actress you look so much like?" I agreed, and from that moment on she called me Diane. The first thing that I became aware of was how the breezy air felt on my nylon covered legs. That same slight breeze also kept teasing its way up and under the hem of my dress. It was a new sensation, but I have to admit that I loved it. I found that wearing high heels made my hips sway, and I had to walk with a better posture just to help me to maintain my balance. It wasn't long before I began to hold my arms up at my sides bent at the elbow instead of putting them in my pockets like I normally did. Mother saw the way I was reacting to the clothes, but instead of saying anything she just smiled at me warmly, with approval written on her face. I wondered about that, and finally I asked her about it as we drove to the mall.

    "You would have done this sooner or later anyway Diane. If I help guide you then you'll have an easier time of it and I get to have another daughter who is a lady to her core." She glanced at me and saw the worry on my face. "Diane, you are a boy, that's true. But only on the outside I think. Inside, where it counts the most I think you're a girl. That wasn't clear to me until I saw you for the first time this morning, then it was obvious, to both of us I think. Am I right?" It was my moment of truth, and without even thinking about it I nodded my head yes. "I don't think that you feel you're much different from any other girl at this moment Diane. I know that you want people to think you're a girl, and you want them to treat you like a girl, so we'll have to make them think you're a girl, won't we?" Again, I nodded my head yes, but this time I knew I had a smile on my face. "You'll need panties and bras of your own Diane, so why don't we start there." It was a statement of course. We both knew I would do whatever she wanted. I walked right beside my mother, keeping step with her, noticing how she held her hands and like her shadow, I began doing the same things. In the lingerie department we bought a dozen panties and three new bras before we moved to the junior department where I tried on several skirts and dresses which we bought along with two suits. In the shoe department I tried on shoes and found that Claire and I wore the same size, so I only bought a pair of beige flats. "Let's put the packages in the car Diane, and then we can have some lunch before your appointment at the salon." "My appointment?" "While you were in trying on that nice pink suit I asked the girl to call ahead and get you an appointment. You do want to look your best on Monday don't you?" "But I thought I was going to do this on the weekends for three weeks before I went to work as a girl!" Mom was pushing me to see how far I would go, so in a fit of bravery, I one upped her to see what she would do. "Of course! Maybe I'll get my hair colored and a nice perm at the same time." "That's probably best if you're going to work as a woman. Maybe they can pierce your ears at the same time." Mother was not about to be one upped by me, and had even raised the stakes a bit higher. Unfortunately I had nothing else to offer and my bravery made it firm. I could only smile in my acceptance. I had walked up to the cliff and stepped right off so to speak. After lunch we walked to the salon in the mall and a woman named Betty took me to a chair. "This is Debbie, she'll be your stylist." I looked at her and smiled. After some discussion about what I wanted, Debbie concluded that I didn't have a clue, and she simply told me that she would do a 'modest' amount of work on my hair before she started on me. I simply let her do her work with a minimum of chatter. When I had to move to the dryer another girl came over and started in on my nails, removing the ones I had put on that morning then made them slightly longer and used a light red polish on them. While she was doing my nails another girl pierced my ears and added small gold hoops! When Debbie was done and I looked in the mirror I was stunned at just how much a simple hairstyle can make a person change. My once soft brown hair was now blond, done in soft waves on top that terminated in sharp curls behind my head. My hair was just below my ears, brushed out to frame my face with bangs that were swept to one side. In my ears sat small gold hoops. I looked so different that it was hard not to keep looking in the mirror!

    Mom and I drove home and at mom's urging I moved into Claire's bedroom. I put the clothes away and started to move things from my old room to the new one, moving some of Claire's things, like underwear, to my old room. Later that night I went on line and found a site I had visited before. They sold things to help make men look like women, even if they were naked. I had visited this site many times in the past but had not yet bought anything. I saw that they had improved everything, so I used the on line ordering system to buy a few things I knew that I would need. I did not tell my mother. That night we watched television, mom in her flannels, me in a nightgown and robe set that was not much more than a diaphanous swirl of light blue The next morning I got up, brushed my hair, did my makeup and dressed in a skirt and blouse before I went to the kitchen and started the coffee. Mom came in shortly, and as we had our breakfast, she asked me what I had in mind for the day. "I have a few things I want to do on the computer, but I would like a picture of me first." "I'll get the camera!" Mom snapped the picture as I stood in front of a blank wall, handing it to me when it popped out of the camera. I took the picture and in my room I scanned it into the computer so I could clean it up a little. Then I scanned in my college ID, drivers license, and work ID. With the software it was easy to cut my old picture and paste the new one in its place. Changing the name was harder because I had to match the font, which was different on all of the items. When I was done, I printed out one of each on my printer, in full color, and other than the picture and name, I had exact copies of each piece of my ID. My name on each was Diane Michelle Grant. My dad had used a laminating machine quite often, and it was still in his office, so I went in and laminated each one. I was so elated at being able to dress as a woman that almost could not stand it. I fixed up a wallet that I had found in Claire's room with all of my new ID, moved my pictures, credit cards, and money to the new wallet and put it in the purse. My image in the mirror kept my attention, which was narcissistic I suppose, but I loved the way I looked and did not want to give up being a girl any sooner than I had to. At three that afternoon the things I had ordered arrived. Their ad was correct! Next day delivery! Mom signed for them, and as soon as I saw her she gave them to me. "What is this?" "I'll show you in a little while mother. Right now I have to examine them to make sure everything arrived undamaged." Of course nothing was damaged. It's hard to damage latex just by shipping it. I eagerly opened the package, and right on top was the panty with the artificial vagina. I set it aside and pulled out the box containing the breastforms. Each of the breasts was made so real looking that it was scary! I eagerly stripped my blouse and bra off, read the instruction sheet carefully, and using the enclosed adhesive, attached them to my chest. As soon as I smoothed out the seams they seemed to become one with me as only the almost invisible seam remained. The vaginal panty was harder to put on, but again, following the instruction sheet, I managed to slip it on, removing all traces of my manhood. Naked, I looked in the mirror and saw a young girl from head to toe. In my reverie I failed to hear the door open; when my mother gasped I turned to see her ashen face.

    Without a word she walked up to me and touched the breastforms, assuring herself they were fake I guess. She knew for a fact the vagina was a fake. "I see that you have become a girl after all! Do you have to take that off toÉ" "No mother, but I have to sit just like any other female." "Well, since you're so much a girl now why don't we go out tonight?" Without waiting for an answer she told me to wear the same blue dress and walked out of the room. After shopping, and a trip to the salon I knew that I was not a clown at all. I was now able to present myself as a female and make people believe it, but mom had posed a challenge of a sort, so smiling I went into the bath and after washing the old makeup off, I shaved as close as possible. I was not yet able to make myself over into the various 'types' girls, but I knew what I wanted to look like. I wanted silky soft skin, full, sexy lips framing a radiant smile, a gorgeous outfit, and perfect hair. I did not want to be a girl with a sweet childlike look, but instead I wanted to look pretty, like the proverbial girl next door grown up into a sexy woman. I went to the dresser and pulled out a corsolet and tossed it on the bed, then added black panties to the pile. I was going to wear black, not the same dress I wore earlier in the day. I found one I liked better. This one was also a sheath dress, but it had a plunging back with a low cut front and was a very hot mini dress. I had seen Claire wear it exactly once, for a dance she had gone to, and spectacular does not describe how she looked in it. I hoped I would look half as good! Sitting at the vanity I did my makeup, and with the new cut, my hair seemed to fall in place with a minimum of fuss. I no longer needed the padded pantybrief and slipped the black panties on. The corsolet was a lot harder to get on than I imagined. It had eleven hooks up the front with a zipper over that, and laces up the back. I was unable to tighten the laces on my own so mom came in and did it for me. Once I was all cinched in, my 'breasts' sat in the cups, the nipples barely held in. I pulled on the pantyhose and reached for the dress. The dress had a single strap that went around the back of my neck attached to the sweetheart neckline, fitted bodice and hip hugging skirt. I slipped it over my head and mom zipped it up for me. The hem of the dress was a good three inches above my knees while the bodice defined my now trim waist and my breasts were clearly displayed. Smiling I went to the jewelry box as mom left for her room. I found the black and gold chandelier earrings and attached them, then fastened the matching choker style necklace around my neck. On my left wrist I wore a thin gold bracelet, which was all the jewelry I wore that night. I did my lips in a deep red and spritzed myself with perfume. Looking in the mirror I knew without a doubt that this is what I wanted. I could not simply give her up now that I had been allowed to find her, and I made up my mind right then. Diane was going to stay no matter what.

Mom said nothing when she saw me, but I saw her smiling as she turned to get her purse, and I knew I had made a good impression on her. Dinner was at a new place by the river, and as we dined mom and I talked about the transformation that had come over me in just a few days. It was my turn to tell her the truth. "Mom, I've always felt this way, I just never had the chance or the nerve to tell you about it. When Valerie suggested it I was afraid to tell you. When I did, I was sure that you would be angry at me. But now I know that I have to dress this way, all of the time, even at work. I have to become Diane all of the time or I think I will bust!" Mom reached out and took my hand in hers, and told me she knew that the first time she saw me. "If that's what you want, then I'll support you of course, but you have a lot of catching up to do if you want to be a real lady. Starting now, I'll teach you all you have to know to become a woman." I spent all day Sunday getting ready for my debut at work, which made mom just shake her head. "You don't have to do anything special Diane, you look very nice right now!" But my concern manifested itself in an obsession to be better than just okay. I used the hair cream again then shaved every inch of my body that I could reach until my skin was as silky smooth as any woman. I washed and cleaned the vaginal panty and breastforms before I put them back on. This time, rather than rely on pressure to hold the panty in place, I used glue to secure the seams in the crack of my butt. The breastforms were pert with no sag, and made me feel very feminine once I had them secured to my chest. Somehow they felt natural, like I should have had them all along, and I could not, or did not, want to visualize myself without them. Mom had given me an aloe based skin lotion, which I rubbed in all over, making my skin softer to the touch and smelling of flowers. I slipped on some panties and a bra then some shorts and a tee top and began to select my wardrobe for the next day. In my heart I knew that the only thing I was going to wear was the new pink suit mom and I had bought on my very first outing as a girl. It had a straight skirt that was above the knee a little, and a fitted jacket with no lapels. Both were lined, which meant that I didn't need to wear a slip with it. For a blouse I selected a thin gray pullover blouse that had a single button at the neck, in the back. The blouse was mom's but because of the vagaries of women's sizes it fit me perfectly, and I wore a size 12 to her 10. Claire had a pair of gray shoes that I borrowed, size 8 by the way, and in my mothers jewelry box I found pearl earrings and necklace set. I already had a gold watch and two rings. Once I had everything ready, I relaxed and made a late lunch. With the vaginal panty it looked as if I had rounded hips and a natural taper in the front, just like all women did. Mom even commented on it once. "You might want to call Valerie and tell her how you'll be dressed in the morning Diane. I'm sure she won't mind, and at least she'll be prepared when she sees just how pretty you are." That made sense, and right after lunch I called Val and told her that I would be dressed as a woman when I showed up for work. Her only comment was that she would look forward to it!

    I spent the night in curlers, getting up early to do my hair and makeup. As I slipped the panties on and saw the cleft in the front a feeling of calmness came over me and I relaxed and got dressed. A soft, lace trimmed demicup bra in white, nude pantyhose, and a white waist nipper. I pulled the skirt on, then the blouse, stepped into the shoes and pushed the earrings into the small holes in my ears. I pulled the jacket on and used a soft reddish pink lipstick to outline my mouth, added perfume, the necklace, watch, rings, and bracelet. Looking in the mirror I could see no trace of the man I was just a few days ago. Once unleashed, Diane had taken over and consumed me, and now, I was Diane Michelle Grant, inside and out. My purse was filled with my wallet, lipstick, tissue, and car keys. Drawing in a breath I left the house for the biggest event in my life. Whatever happened today, a spectacular success or a colossal flop, everyone would know that I wanted to dress and work as a woman, and there would be no going back. Strangely, the fear that had consumed me before did not cross my mind as I drove into the parking lot. I locked the car and walked to the door, showed Walter, the guard my phony ID and walked in. It was no longer a maybe, and I walked into the office and straight to my desk, and the first thing I saw was the nameplate. 'Diane M. Grant' etched in white on a blue background sitting on my desk! I stashed my purse in my desk and went to get a coffee, returning just as Valerie walked in. She took one look at me and broke out in a huge smile. "I was right! You look spectacular Diane!" She went to get a coffee, returning to my desk quickly. "I'll introduce you around today Diane. The way you look, nobody will believe it if we told them who you really are, so I'll let them assume you are a new hire and we can go from there okay?" It really was the best way, so I agreed. As I was introduced around the office I saw a lot of different looks that I had never seen before. From the men it was mostly an evaluating look and each time I felt as if I had been mentally stripped. From the women it ran from indifference, (from the pretty ones), to envy (from the older ladies). Valerie motioned me to join her in her office, and as soon as I was seated she asked me for my ID. I gave her the one I had made up, and after a quick look made arrangements for me to have a new one made. "You'll have the same duties Diane and the same rate of pay of course." Then she explained the looks I got from everyone. "All men are on the make all of the time Diane, and to them, you're fresh meat so to speak. Ignore them and they'll relax after a few days. The older women are jealous of the way you look while some of the younger girls see you as competition. You can ignore them as well, or play it as you see it." Then she had me go and have my picture taken for my ID card, assigned a new computer sign on, and I went back to work, doing the same exact job as before. During the morning I settled in and finally relaxed as I discovered that everyone accepted me for what I appeared to be; a woman, about 20 years old or so. At lunch Kelly and Beth asked me to join them, and we sat together at one table. I got an earful as they discussed the single men that worked in the office, in graphic terms, and some of the older women who they thought were ready for the retirement farm. It was a very educational lunch!

For my part I paid close attention to what the other girls wore and so on. My new ID card arrived at two, just as I had my first phone call. In person mom and Valerie both told me that I looked like the actress I had taken my name from, but I sounded like Kathleen Turner. On the phone I had no idea how I would sound, so I was relieved when the male caller addressed me as a woman. That night I collapsed on the couch from the stress mom said. After that it got easier each day, and at the end of a month it was as if I was a natural born female. I hated shaving close every day because my face became sore and very tender. That's when I saw an ad in the paper, showed mom, and she agreed. I made an appointment by phone, and that Saturday morning at eight I was at the clinic. I was shown in to see the doctor, and was surprised to see it was a woman. I had to tell her my true status of course, which was hard because by now I did not look like a male in any way. She sat there quietly while I told her all about myself and the dilemma I found myself in. When I was done I fully expected her to toss me out, but all she did was ask me some medical questions, my medical history and so on. Then she asked me if I would like to have my own breasts! "Of course, but I'm not taking any hormones, so that seems out of the question right now." "Maybe not Diane." When she told me how she could do it, that day, I was all smiles and agreed to it right then. I was out for the entire procedure, but essentially, she used a laser to remove my entire beard, then Liposuction to draw fat from my waist and used it to make breasts, the same size as my fake ones. When I awoke I was sore, but not bad, and I had a few small stitches. But I also had a 23 inch waist and two perfectly formed, completely natural breasts. I was in heaven as I got dressed and then drove home. Mom knew I was going to have my beard removed, and when she saw my slightly swollen face she started clucking like a mother hen and immediately wanted me in bed. I was just too sore to argue with her and let her help me get undressed. When I removed my bra and she saw me, a common occurrence in our house, she saw my brand new boobs and narrow waist for the first time. "Those are real!" "Yes, they are! Aren't they nice?" Then I explained how the doctor did it. Mom helped me get a nightgown on and I went to bed, staying there until late the next morning. In the shower I felt my new breasts, washed the stitches in my navel carefully and wearing just panties I slipped on a top and a skirt, which fit a lot better now that I had a smaller waist.

    During the next week I became used to having sensation in my breasts, and loved every minute of it. On Friday Valerie invited Kelly and I to her home for a barbecue on Saturday afternoon. She failed to mention that both of her sons would be there. I picked out a tan floral summer dress, and wore tan sandals with a thin, short sleeved jacket. My hair, now trimmed, flowed around my face like a halo. I had a small brown leather purse to complete the outfit. I examined myself in the mirror. My hair was longer now, cut and styled in a more business like way, but still casual. My shoulders, accented by the short sleeves of the jacket, were trimmed with brown piping. The top of the dress did not have a deep neckline, but it was low enough to allow a hint of my cleavage, and that was accented by delicate gold locket suspended from my neck. I wore a minimum of makeup, just a hint of eyeshadow, a soft red lipstick and my best perfume. As soon as I arrived at Valerie's her youngest son, Mike greeted me and showed me to the patio. Unlike Valerie, who was my size, Mike was huge! He stood at least 6'3" tall! I had to look up to see his face! Kelly was already there, sitting with Douglas, Valerie's other son. He was also quite tall. Both of her sons had dark hair, Mike with green eyes and Douglas with blue. Her husband was not as tall as his sons, but he had the same build. He was wide, with a barrel chest, and dark hair. It was immediately obvious that Valerie had arranged this little party so Kelly and I could meet her sons! While I had been living and working as a woman for almost four months now, I had never had a date nor had I ever looked at a man like a woman would. I had known that sooner or later some man would hit on me, and now, it seemed, was the time. Mike almost, but not quite, doted on me, and I often saw his gaze drift to the top of my dress; I knew he was not admiring the material my dress was made of! When I looked up at him I could see that atypical look of male superiority on his face. I felt so feminine right then, and it was a wonderful new feeling. I now knew what my mother had told me about men was true. They had a magnetic appeal to women that simply could not be denied. I knew that there could be a lot of joy to be had in being so attractive to a man, and the thought of being Mike's new girl friend ran through my mind. I was flattered that he thought I was pretty enough to make him come to me, yet in the back of my mind I wondered why I felt this way. Until I had started to dress as a woman I had never had a sexual thought about another male in my entire life! Now I was thinking about Mike in ways I had never dreamed of before. We sat at the table side by side eating, and even though I held up my end of the discussion, I was thinking about the way Mike had looked at me. Thinking of Mike, as my boy friend did not turn me off at all, instead it had just the opposite effect. I was a girl and I had a real live male catering to me, like a boy friend would. Not only that, but I was flirting with him the way girls do to their guys. I began to feel hot inside as my thoughts drifted to more erotic places. That scared me momentarily, because up to that moment I had never had an erotic thought about a maleÉ ever! As our food was eaten and just the drinks were left, I felt his hand on my leg half way up on my thigh! Right then Valerie started to clear the table and Kelly and I jumped up to help her. It saved me from making a decision whether to let his hand stay there or ask him to remove it.

"My sons seem to be taken with you girls." That was obvious, but it was Kelly who stated it. "Like you didn't arrange this Valerie! I'm certainly not complaining mind you, Douglas is very nice." They both looked at me, and all I could do was smile. Nobody said anything else, and we filled several pitchers and rejoined the men. Mike asked me to take a walk with him, and took my hand in his as we walked along the waters edge. We rounded the point and as soon as we were out of sight he spun me around, held me close, and kissed me. He was gentle but urgent as his tongue probed against my mouth and I opened so his tongue could enter me. I was unable to pull away, not because he was so big, but because I didn't want to. He asked me out for the next night, and I agreed. By the time I got home I had become like a young girl in my anticipation of this date. I know mom saw it, and when I told her about it all she did was remind me what good girls did, and did not do. Big help she was! I had chosen to wear a skirt that flared slightly at the hips with square cut pleats in a dark green. A simple white blouse, and black two inch heels. I added jewelry and perfume. My makeup was for evening, darker eyeshadow and a dark red lipstick this time. I was nervous as I waited for him to arrive, but when he did I calmed right down. He took me to dinner, and later, he drove to a secluded spot by the lake. As soon as he kissed me all of my mothers admonitions went out the window, especially when his hand found my breast. Every nerve ending was on edge as he manipulated me like a musical instrument, making my body play his tune. When he took my hand and placed it on his member I felt myself shudder, not in revulsion, but in lust. I wanted this man to take me, love me, make me love him back, and he did. Unbidden my hand began to stroke him and I felt the buttons of my blouse come undone and his hand found my naked breast while I unzipped his pants. He popped out all engorged and hard, throbbing in lust as my hand again found him. The skin was like velvet, yet hard like iron beneath my hand. I was stroking him when all at once he gushed, filling my hand with goo. "Sorry about that Diane." He gave me a hanky and I cleaned up. "This isn't the place for two people our age Diane, why don't we go back to my apartment?" Common sense kicked in and I asked him to take me home, and like a gentleman he did.

    Mike called me every day at work and each night at home. Valerie told me he was so in love he could hardly stand it. Kelly asked me if I had slept with him yet, and when I did not give her an answer she assumed that I had. On Friday night Mike and I had a date, and I knew in my heart that I was going to have sex with him, so I packed a small bag to take along. Mom could hardly miss it, but this time all she told me was to be careful. "That vaginal panty is very good Diane but this can lead to disaster if your not very careful." "I'll be careful mom, but this is the last hurtle isn't it? I have to do this even if he finds out." Later it turned out I was right, because right after dinner he drove us to his place. As soon as he had closed the door he was all over me, and I once again became like warm bread in his hands as he massaged my nipples with his fingers. I felt the zipper of the dress going down, and when it did I stepped out of it and tossed it aside. Mike watched as I removed my bra and tossed it aside as well. I reached out and began to unbutton his shirt, then his pants. He stepped out of his pants and just stood there. I ripped his briefs down in a single motion leaving him naked in front of me. I sat on his couch and removed my pantyhose and shoes, leaving my panties on as he grabbed my hand and took me to his bed. He found every single spot that turned me on and some I didn't know I had. I wanted him to be mine and pushed him on his back. His erection stood tall and proud as I went to my knees, bent over, and kissed his member. It was not unpleasant, and when my mouth opened I took all I could in a single motion. His hands held my head as I bobbed up and down, until I felt him starting to tense up. I straddled him, and helped him find the opening in the vaginal panty. He slid in and I began to rock back and forth, watching his face the whole time. His eyes closed and he was moving his head, but his hands remained firmly on my breasts as I pumped him. I was now in charge of this man and I loved it! Finally he released and filled my panty. Spent, he fell back as I went to the bath to clean up. He was still naked in the bed when I returned, also naked as his hand reached out and pulled me to him. I lay next to him, my hand on his manhood while he kissed my breasts, renewing my excitement. He grew hard once again and once again my mouth found him. This time I wanted to taste him, and did not move as he swelled and released his seed into me. I spent the night with his arm around me firmly cupping a breast with his hand. I woke before he did, dressed in the skirt and blouse I had brought along, brushed my hair into a ponytail, and started the coffee. It was a very domestic scene for sure as he woke up and saw me. Naked, he went in and took a shower, returning in shorts and a tee. I put both of my hands on the cheeks of his butt, and tried to keep him from moving to far away. I wasn't surprised to find that he was rock hard once again. I genuinely hoped it would not be too long before he wanted to take me out on a date. Then Mike kissed me again. "Eat your breakfast Michael, you'll need your strength for later." I know it was coquettish of me to tease him, but I simply could not resist. After breakfast he helped me wash the dishes, and then his hands found my breasts again.

He had the stamina of a bull and it was another two hours before he took me home. Valerie was there talking to mother when he dropped me off. "By the look on your face I would say that Mike is a very happy man this morning!" "A polite woman never talks about her conquests Valerie, even if it is the bosses son!" "He's going to ask you to marry him Diane, probably this week." "Diane, I think it's time that you told him about yourself, and made arrangements to make yourself into a woman, don't you?" Mom was right, Mike deserved more than a lie. "Okay mom, but maybe you and Valerie could be here when I tell him." They looked at each other and nodded their heads yes. "We'll be by tomorrow Diane, around six." The next day was hell as I wondered how I would tell Mike about myself, and Valerie was no help either. All she said was that Mike and I would have to find a way to overcome this minor obstacle. After dinner mom and I did the dishes and I sat, waiting for Mike and Valerie to arrive. Promptly at six the doorbell rang and I admitted them into the house. "Mom says that you have something serious to tell me Diane, what is it? Valerie and mother had mysteriously disappeared, leaving me alone with Mike. Direct is usually the best approach, so I drew in a breath and told him. "Mike, I'm not a female, but I love you and want to be your girl, and hopefully, your wife." "What do you mean your not a girl? You and I slept together, and I think I would know a girl when I saw one, especially when she is naked!" "I'm sure that's true Mike, but none the less, I am not a female. I will be shortly, but not now, right this minute. I wear a special kind of panty that lets me have the look and feel of a woman Mike. These are my boobs of course, but the rest is all latex." By the look on his face I was sure he was going to hurt me and started to back up. "I'm angry that you weren't honest right up front Diane! You tricked me, and that is wrong!" "Yes I tricked you Michael! What would you have said if I told you, "hey fool, I'm a man just like you!" You would have dropped me like a hot rock and you know it! But it wasn't deceit on my part so much as my desire to be your woman, or your lusting after me, panting every time you looked at me. No Michael, this goes both ways. I love you, I really do, and I will make you a fine wife if you let me. I just need time toÉ become that woman you want me to be!" By then I had tears running down my cheeks and ran out of the room straight into my mother's arms. "He hates me mother!" My tears ran down my cheeks because I was ashamed of what I had done. I was not a woman, I was a pile of latex trying to be what I was not. I tried to tear myself away but I felt Mike's hand on my arm and in a rush of emotion I fell into his arms. "Oh Michael, what are we going to do?" he said nothing as he picked me up like I was a feather, and carried me to my room, slamming the door behind us. "We," he said very forcefully, "are going to make love again and then we are going to talk about this problem we have." Then he unbuttoned my blouse and began to undress me. I stood very still as he slowly ran his hands all over me, making me tremble in delight and lust. Then he stood there as I undressed him, ran my hands all over him until I reached his manhood when I began to stroke him. As he purred I slipped into bed and lay there, naked and smiling. He took me quickly but forcefully, and then later, slower and with a methodically slow tempo which drove me crazy. Unable to quiet his lust, I rolled over, got on my knees, put my head down and allowed him to take me. We were both panting when he completed and lay there for a moment. Then I got a warm washrag and cleaned him up so that I could use my talented tongue once again. He stayed in my room that night and we talked about the future. I told him how it all began and why, and in the end he asked me to marry him. "You have a year Diane, after that we get married!" The he went back to being forceful again, but I said yes and that night I slept like a baby. Less than a year later I was a woman, and on our wedding night he found out just how much of a woman he had married.

Advice how why you are a transvestite, transsexual, transgender, transwoman. Help and advice from Transformation

You only have to walk down the local high street to realise that not all women take the same degree of pleasure in wearing feminine clothes as others.

So it is that not all mothers will introduce their children to their allure, and again not all children are going to be susceptible to the allure of clothes. This in turn can mean that not all wives or partners will have the same feelings for clothes as our own mothers and may, indeed, have less interest in them than we have.

It has been noted by some authorities that a proportion of TVs have an above average sex drive. Moreover many of our ideas about sex and love start in our earliest years and the relationships of that time. Consequently a young man with a strong sex drive – which is probably something we are born with – when combined with a powerful and glamorous mother figure, may well link the process of making love with the sort of glamour that he saw in his youth.

Glamorisation

Later, in his married life he may look for the same sort of glamour in his partner and if he finds it, will probably be unaware of the underlying need for it.

Unfortunately not all couples share the same level of sex drive or interest in the physical expression of their love. If this is the case and the man is disappointed in this part of his life, subconscious urges may push him to find glamour and even sexual release by creating it around his own person.

The glamourisation of oneself can be quite simply done by wearing distinctive clothes, or adopting a personal style of dress that satisfies ones idea about oneself. Interestingly, changes like these may help to bridge the gap in the relationship and create a masculine figure that the partner finds more attractive and hence more acceptable as a lover. When this is not the case the sex drive may lead to a search for other female company either for the occasional fling, or for a permanent change.

Sexual

The fling can be enjoyed with another woman, in the form of an affair or one-night-stand in which there is grave danger of causing hurt to the other party or to oneself.

It would not be a conscious decision to turn to feminine things but more likely the result of frustration from a lack of sexual outlets that leads to the classic moments of early TV discovery.

The seconds spent lingering over the wife’s clothes when she is not around soon develop to a snatched moment donning a dress or some undies while she is out. At any point the level of satisfaction may prove to be adequate and the process to full trasvestism can stop, equally the relationship may improve so that the frustration goes away and the sex drive finds a more usual outlet.

There comes a point for many who cross-dress when the urge to do so becomes important in itself and leads to the next major step – the possesion of ones own wardrobe. This may start in a clandestine manner with the purchase of some special items which are enjoyed and then thrown away, but soon this is not enough and more complete adventures may be tried.

A night away on business gives one the chance to spend several hours dressed in the hotel room and afterwards the garments may find a home in some hiding place in the car or the attic.

I have heard of TVs who have had an entire wardrobe in the attic under the pretext of having a model railway up there. This is fine and allows many hours of cross-dressing right in the heart of the home, but surely discovery is also inevitable? But that’s another story.

What I have described here is a route that frequently leads to the TV way of life, but many would be able to put in different details that round out the story in their own case, and many have only the need to go some of the way to feel an acceptable level of contentment.

For some, the joy of wearing feminine clothes is enough in itself and it doesn’t worry them if a beautiful wedding gown, for instance, is set below the sight of a scruffy beard. For others the frequency of episodes of cross-dressing can be low, perhaps just once or twice a year, and the manner of it can vary from the outrageous caricature of femininity to the well known cliches of schoolgirl, tart or nurse.

Encounter

These may all relate back to images from youth, close friends in primary school perhaps, or a hauntingly romantic but brief encounter with some one who was clearly a whore at heart.

They provide the satisfaction that is good for the particular individual and at each stage the process towards further changes may stop, frustration satisfied, or the price of carrying on to high.

The image of self may be too upsetting because we are not necessarily proud of our secondary personae. Alternatively the challenge to our family life is too great – it’s ironic really because cross-dressing may have its origins in an attempt to find a compromise for one’s sex drive without placing family at risk.

Another critical point in development may soon crop up; the wish to create a truly womanly image of oneself. It may start as dissatisfaction with what has been achieved so far. A bra stuffed with tissue, or a pair of stockings, soon seems a poor alternative when compared with the almost natural feel of prosthetic breasts or the possibility of growing ones own with hormone creams or pills.

To feel for the first time the weight of prosthetic breasts moving as a part of ones body is an unbelievable thrill. To wear an entire ensemble with frothy petticoats, undies, high heels and a pretty frock can open the door to more possibilities, although again there is a price to pay, and there is a risk that such exhibitionism can be damaging to ones social standing.

It is a lucky cross-dresser who has a partner who can be happy with his personal passion. Too often the drive to dress can also lead to a move to live alone. In some ways that is very sad, for there are not many of us who really enjoy being alone, but then under these conditions loneliness can give way to spending much more with one’s alter ego.

Of course if the step to live alone has been taken, then another series of vista open up. It may be possible to consider living full time dressed as a women, either in the outside world, within the confines of the house or only at times when one is unlikely to be disturbed.

There is also the chance to live with someone who is like-minded or accepting a man who wishes to be seen as a women. In this situation the experiences of ones childhood that sowed the seeds seem far away.

The warmth of the mother’s love may be in the subconscious; the sneaky masturbation that accompanied early essays at donning female garments will be just an embarrassing memory, for now the joy of feeling and looking feminine and beautiful will have become a reason in itself.

At this stage one turns away from the extremes of exhibitionist garments, the bulky petticoats, the extravagent skirts and blouses, and wears the more truly feminine clothes that you see on other women.

Where, then has the man gone? Is he totally rejected? Certainly he is in most cases, but in others he may be still be someone on the outside looking in and getting pleasure from creating the woman he also is, knowing himself to be a man but loving the woman. Possibly a man only at his workplace, for all other times, his glamourous alter ego.

Identify

And so what started as some expression of a Freudian sexual need, established when a child, becomes in its most advanced form an art that becomes a completely satisfying lifesyle in itself.

Many of us have set off along this path. At any time we may realise that we have reached some specific point along it. We may know that this is enough for us and decide to be content as we are, but on the other hand we may decide to continue further.

Some readers will only identify with a few of the stages listed here, others will recognise much of their own experience. The lesson to learn from it is to understand what pressures lie behind your passion, to respect it and to accept it, but at the same time be considerate of those around you. They should not be troubled or offended by what can be a bizarre type of behaviour for those that don’t understand it.

LIFE OF A VICTORIAN MAID

Female domestic staff usually had to provide their own clothing. In the Victorian and Edwardian periods, this would typically have been a lilac, blue or pink working dress with a white cap and apron for the morning. In the afternoon, which was the time for visitors, servants would change into a formal black dress and frilled apron and cap. In grander houses, a female servant might have worn a white blouse, white petticoat and underskirt and then a black pinafore over the top. She would have had a white frilly cap with a coloured ribbon. The alternative, perhaps for less dirty work would have been a white blouse, black bodice and then a white pinafore dress on top. The cap would have been black with white trim. In our house, Florence wears a dark apron for dirty jobs such as laying the fires, over her blue working dress. Florence wears Julia's old clothes during her free time; for her afternoon off once a week. On Sundays, she wears a plain, sombre, black coat and skirt, with black shoes, stockings and gloves. She has a toque style of hat. In most houses, there would be too much work to allow the maid of all work to rest during the day. Jobs would include making fires, carrying the coal in, dealing with tradesmen and women, cleaning - housework including spring cleaning, washing, washing up, cooking and making tea, preparing beds, carrying hot water, running errands. And in the larger houses, managing junior staff. They would also mend their own clothes, and check the doors and windows were locked at night. By 1890, many houses sent their washing out as this was cheaper. If there was a separate cook, with other work done by a housemaid, the maid of all work would be a 'plain cook', preparing simple dishes such as meat, vegetables and puddings. Morning Florence has an early start each morning; in the summer she is at work by 6am and in the darkness of the winter by 7am. After washing and dressing, she goes round the house, opening the shutters and curtains, and opening a few windows. In each room, she takes up the hearth rug, places the fender on a cloth, and cleans and re-lays the fire. She polishes the brass and steel work. Florence then sweeps each downstairs room, collecting the dust near the fireplace. She carries her tools, including brushes, blacklead, emery paper and polishing cloths, from room to room in a wooden box. The cinders from each fireplace go in the bottom. She then dusts the furniture. One of her friends who works at a nearby house has a Bissell carpet sweeper, but Florence has to make do with a variety of brushes. She takes a supply of coal and kindling to each fireplace and lights the downstairs fires; today's March morning is chilly. A large range could burn 1 hundredweight (nearly 51kg) of coal per day, costing about one shilling in 1890. The Bush family have a medium-sized range, but together with the fireplaces, they consume about this much coal in the coldest part of the winter. Sidney pops his head round the kitchen door; "Can I have my breakfast, Florence?". "Oh, sorry sir." Sidney just has some bread so it takes just a moment to prepare things. She takes them into the dining room. Her next task is to prepare the breakfast for the children, Mary, who has just arrived, and for herself. They have bacon and cold meat for breakfast in the week, and sausages or bloaters on Sunday. As the has her first moment of rest in the day, Sidney leaves the house for his train journey to London.

  Florence quickly finishes her breakfast, and then goes upstairs with hot water for her mistress and the children. Mary is giving the children their breakfast and will help them get washed and dressed. "Good morning, Florence." says Julia. "Good morning, missus." replies Florence. She sets the jug of hot water down on the wash stand and prepares Julia's clothes. "I am going calling this afternoon, so I will need my best skirt and blouse. And Mr and Mrs Browne are coming for dinner tonight at 7." Florence silently groaned. She had hoped to have her afternoon off today, but now she would need to prepare fancy food for dinner; Mr and Mrs Browne always needed to be impressed. Florence brushed madam's hair, and helped her dress. By 8:30, Julia was ready for the day, and Florence went back downstairs and brought breakfast through to the dining room. At 9, the whole family assembled in the dining room for morning prayers. After clearing away all the breakfast things and washing them up, Florence sweeps and dusts upstairs. Her mistress's eldest daughter Constance helps Florence to make the beds and do some of the chores. She is quite a willing girl so her work makes quite a difference. Florence goes round the house collecting the oil lamps, and takes them to the kitchen. She cleans and trims them, refills them, and then takes them back. Her next task is to clean up the candle sticks; the family don't use too many as they are expensive. She then discusses the day's menu with Julia and is sent out to buy a few items, such as yeast, that are not delivered. In their road, a baker brings fresh bread each day in a basket, and the milkman brings the milk on a cart. Florence has to visit the greengrocer's, butcher, and fish shop.  

  Afternoon Returning home, Florence makes the midday meal for Mary and the children, and herself. They eat this together in the kitchen at about 12:30. Their usual lunch is cold meat; most weeks there is ham and chicken. Then Florence prepares luncheon for her mistress, who sits down to eat at 1:30. Florence then helps her mistress undress for her rest, and goes downstairs to clear away from lunch. Her next tasks are to begin preparing the meal for tonight. She has barely started when Julia calls for her help with dressing for the afternoon. The kitchen and nursery tea at 5pm is mackerel, with bread and butter and a small cake. Barely finished, Julia returns from her visiting. Florence helps her to change for evening.  

  Evening At 6:15 Sidney returns home, and Florence takes him hot water. At 6:30, the guests arrive; Florence welcomes them, and shows them into the drawing room. The dinner seems to go well; the Brownes leave at about 9:30. Once the ladies have moved to the drawing room, Florence clears the last items from the dining room, leaving the men in peace. At 9:00, after clearing up and washing up, Florence has a quick kitchen supper of bread and cheese. Florence cleans Sidney and Julia's shoes, checks that the drawing and dining room fires are safe, turns out the downstairs oil lamps, and locks the doors and closes windows. She then attends to Julia, helping her to undress and wash. She removes the slops.    

I had been looking for work in the want ads and noticed there weren’t many choices. Most of the jobs were menial labor or fast food types and didn’t pay much. But I did find a job opening listed at a local law office. I circled the ad then drove down to apply.

I entered the small out of the way building and noticed a stack of papers and books on a couple desks in the main office. After asking if anyone was in I heard a ladies voice. She told me to come into her office. I entered to see her moving about the paperwork while she talked on the phone. After she motioned for me to take a seat I waited until she was done with her call.

“Can I help you?” She said with a smile. I showed her the ad she had placed in the paper for a legal secretary. She took her seat and looked me over as I handed her my resume.

“I do need a secretary very badly as you can probably tell from the mess of papers and books in here” she said. “I know these days that there are a lot of male secretaries out there and you seem well qualified” she continued “but I am more in the market for a woman secretary, it’s more traditional, you understand.”

I told her that I had a degree and would rather use my brain than have to twirl either a spatula or a shovel. She seemed to understand as I continued about really needing a job and after I nearly begged for the chance she finally relented.

“You don’t mind doing what is usually women’s work then?”

I told her I didn’t mind. With that she hired me and had me report bright and early the next day.

It didn’t take long to get the place in shape and within a couple weeks I pretty much learned all I needed to know. I worked at my desk answering the phone and typing reports in the outer office and Donna worked in her private office. She was a good lawyer, was in her early 50’s or so and had a bit of a buxom build. She was larger than I was and with me being slightly built and short as well she was also a couple inches taller. She often teased me that I should maybe wear high heels around the office so I could be taller than her! I then thought it a bit strange as I noticed that her clothing seemed just the slightest bit masculine in appearance.

I passed the comment off until a couple weeks later. I had been working there for a month and everything was rolling right along when one Friday afternoon Donna called me into her office. It had been a bit slow that week and it was nice to not have to hustle quite so much and I thought that after the work got down to a routine it would be a pretty good job, especially since I was making about ten bucks an hour more than most any place else in town. I went into Donna’s office and after closing the door behind me took a seat and awaited what she had to say.

I figured it might be some extra work, or maybe her thanking me for getting everything caught up or maybe even her telling me I could leave early for the weekend but that isn’t what happened. She rummaged through her desk drawer then brought over a small, paper bag package and handed it to me. I opened the package and reached in to feel something slippery and silky then pulled the material out and noticed I was now holding a pair of ladies panties! They were full cut, white nylon briefs and very feminine all done up with lace and bows!

“What’s this!?” I questioned with a funny look on my face.

“Just a little something for you Dennis” she said with a smile. “I’d like you to start wearing them under your suit when you report for work. And don’t worry, I will pick up enough of these pretty, feminine panties to keep you properly dressed from Monday through Friday. You don’t have to pay me for them, consider them a bonus.” She said as she returned to her desk and took her seat.

I folded the panties and put them back in the bag. “I don’t think so Ms. Roberts.”

She didn’t like my apparent stubbornness.

“What did you say?” She said.

I repeated that I wasn’t about to wear women’s panties but she only giggled slightly as she continued.

“I told you this was traditionally women’s work didn’t I?” She said.

I said that I remembered that but continued on thinking she was joking. I got out of my chair saying I had work to finish before five o’clock but she replied by saying “you’re not dismissed yet! Pick up that package,” she said with a demanding tone. “Monday morning you will come to work and I will check to make sure you are properly dressed.”

I told her I wouldn’t do it! She then ended the argument.

“You’ll report to work on Monday wearing these panties under your suit or you’ll look for another job!” She said with authority.

She relaxed a bit by telling me it really wasn’t that big a deal and that I would get used to it.

“I just like knowing my little secretary is dressed just a little feminine underneath. And what’s the worry? Who’s going to know?” She finished, then said I could return to my work.

I didn’t know what to think! If I didn’t do what she said I would be out of a job and in a real jam! I quietly gathered up the package then left her office closing the door behind myself as I left.

I dreaded the following Monday morning. I got up, showered and got ready for work. I took my suit off the hanger and grabbed a fresh shirt and tie then noticed the package Donna had given me sitting on the dresser. With no way out at least for the moment I took the package, reached into it then took out the panties and began putting them on! I finished dressing as usual and then drove to work.

I entered the office and had just started for the coffee machine to make coffee when I heard Donna call me into her office. I entered the office and as I closed the door she was already moving towards me asking how my weekend was. She then moved in close and reached for my pants! I startled back. “Just relax now, I’m not going to bite!” She said as I stood there.

She reached over and holding my belt with one hand unzipped my pants with the other. She then reached in and felt the front of the panties I was indeed wearing. She felt the creamy smoothness and could feel the lace trim at the front and the little bows at the front of the lace trimmed legs.

“Feel good don’t they?” She said with a wicked smile as she felt me through the panties.

Just as she started to stroke my member I pulled back and she withdrew her hand and returned to her desk. I could feel my face redden with embarrassment as I quickly zipped back up then mentioned that I had coffee to make.

The morning went as usual until after lunch. Donna got back about a half hour late and after hanging up her coat she smiled and put another package on my desk as she left for her office. I could tell the package was from one of the local lingerie stores. I couldn’t believe she was serious but realized she was as soon as I looked inside and saw another dozen or so pairs of ladies panties! They were in several pastel shades and all the full cut type and all had lace and were adorned with appliques and other lacy trim and little bows. I quickly closed the package and put it in one of the desk drawers realizing that I would now be wearing panties to work every day! I was a bit sickened to see that the days of the week were embroidered on one set of the panties as well when I got them home and took them out of the package!

The next morning I was back in Donna’s office for inspection. She had me take my pants down this time and then rubbed her hands over the cool, slippery pink fabric.

“My, you seem to like the pink ones hummm?” She said with a giggle as she looked me over then pulled them up tight on my waist and squeezed and rubbed my bottom through the shiny nylon.

I asked how it could possibly matter which color I wore and she giggled, satisfied I was still following her orders.

“But there’s one thing though,” she said as she looked me over. “I’d like to have you start shaving,” she said as she saw the sparse but noticeable hair on my legs. I felt shocked!

“Shave?” I said with a gasp.

“Yes, you’ll look so much better in these when you are properly shaved,” she added as I pulled my pants back up.

“How much to I have to shave?” I asked in quiet terror.

“Everything silly!” She said with a giggle. “Tomorrow morning I will expect to see you nice and smooth all over without a hair below your eyebrows except for your ‘bikini cut’ down below” she giggled at allowing me to keep a little hair.

I pleaded with her to not make me do this but she was insistent! It was either that or get ready to start looking for another job with what most likely would be a menial labor one with a lot less pay! I quietly returned to my desk and finished out the day.

The next morning it was inspection time with Donna again in her office. This time she made me strip down to my socks and panties while she looked my now totally shaved body over! Later that day she called me in to her office once again and this time handed me several pairs of nude, support pantyhose! I knew what was next. Now in addition to wearing panties to work I would now be wearing women’s hosiery to work too! And the next day it was another inspection. Donna noticed my panties under the shiny nylon pantyhose as she fondled my now shaved and nyloned legs!

“Mmmmmmm, don’t they just feel delicious?” She said as she marveled at how the nylons shined in the light and how they felt under her hand as she rubbed the material against my legs! I started having second thoughts about continuing working for Donna and even though I needed the job I thought about just quitting while the quitting was good.

But as I finished pulling up my pants and tucking in my shirt once again Donna told me she was giving me a raise for my being a good secretary and such a good sport. She then handed me another package and told me how nice I would feel with a pedicure! Then once back at my desk I noticed the nail polish and other do-dads in the package!

The days went by and with the workload I found I actually forgot about the panties and pantyhose from time to time, just like Donna had said by saying “don’t worry, you’ll get used to them in no time.”

With another week came another feminine addition to my lingerie wardrobe, and then another, and another! The following Monday I was standing in Donna’s office before starting work while she looked me over once again. By now, she really had me decked out! I was wearing my panties and pantyhose complete with my now red nailed pedicure done up in a bright gloss red that showed through the toes of the stockings. She had also added a tight girdle briefer panty to my wardrobe and showed me how she wanted me to “tuck” myself so I wouldn’t show a bulge. Finally, she had me wear a pair of white nylon pants liners and finished the look with a matching, lace trimmed nylon camisole! I was now, underneath, totally dressed!

I begged her to let me take off the camisole saying the straps would show through my shirt but she wouldn’t have any of it! She said if I was worried I should start wearing T-shirts and / or keep my suit coat on at all times. I thought the next step was the last straw though because the following Monday, she brought a pair of high heels to work that were in my size!

The shoes were black patent leather pumps and Donna made sure to get a pair with open toes to show off my painted toe nails! I was grateful that most of our work was corporate and didn’t involve a lot of walk in traffic but I drew the line at wearing high heels and complained immediately!

“What are you doing to me Donna!?” I asked with a quizzical glare as I stared at her. But she only smiled with her usual air of authority knowing full well who was in control.

“I thought you said ‘who’ll know’ and that nobody could tell I was wearing ladies lingerie? If I wear these shoes around the office what happens when somebody comes in!?” I said in a terrified tone. “They’ll freak out!”

“Don’t worry!” She said. “You just get yourself a pair of loafers and keep them under your desk. Then, if someone comes into the office you can change shoes without them knowing.”

“But what about these nylons?” I said pointing to my ankles.

“Your pants are long enough, just put your dress socks in the drawer until you leave at night.”

She had it all figured out and even though I tried to argue further it did no good. Then she told me If I could learn to master the heels in a week she would give me another raise!

It became very strange almost surreal. She watched as I went back to my desk and took off my wingtips and black dress socks. My nyloned feet complete with red nail polish were now clearly evident! And worse now because I was stepping into women’s high heeled shoes! Donna smiled with satisfaction at seeing them on me.

She had to help me stand at first and giggled as I wobbled on the five inch stiletto heels as I moved around the office doing nothing more than trying not to fall. She had me continue to practice and coached me how to step until I started walking a little better. She then returned to her office. An hour later I heard her ask me to bring her in a fresh cup of coffee. I knew what she wanted, she wanted to see me mincing on the heels and did just that as I carefully made my way into her office with the hot coffee. Donna thanked me then watched as I teetered, the heels forcing my hips into a slight wiggle as I moved back to my desk. And that’s how it went.

As the days went by I would put on the high heels immediately after arriving to work and leave them on until my lunch break. After lunch however, it was back in the heels! The following Thursday I was just finishing putting away some files in the cabinet and walking back to my desk. It wasn’t five minutes later that a gentleman came into the office wanting to talk with Donna! I managed to slip out of the heels and put my new slip on loafers on and then escort the man in to see Donna! After he left I had to put the heels back on but I was shaken from the incident and complained to Donna about it.

She then said we were taking the next week off! I asked why and she replied “if you are worried about wearing the high heels we can do something about it so you won’t look or feel so out of place. And since you’re getting so good in walking in them it’ll be easy.” She said with another of her smiles and finished by telling me that I would be spending the entire week at her home.

I had an inkling of what was going to happen but not to the degree it happened! I threatened to quit and didn’t really care but Donna was insistent and with an even larger raise being offered I felt almost stuck somehow. The job wasn’t that hard, even in the heels but I knew after I was told the rest of Donna’s plan that I could never pull it off.

The first thing I was to do was pack up and move out of my apartment. I would be living with Donna now and after she was finished with me there would be no way I could really go back to my place anyway. Then the next week passed, and with the fifteen hour days and all the work it passed slowly! But soon it was Monday morning and the start of another work week.

I was terrified to get out of the car when we pulled up to the office but Donna insisted that I could make a go of it and that no one would even notice my changes. I was just the “new” secretary. I was nervous as I opened the car door and felt the click of my high heels as they hit the pavement. I took my purse and after leaving the car I made my way up the sidewalk with Donna. I could feel my new bust jiggling and feel the cool morning air swirling around my nyloned legs! And could hear the swish of my nylons brushing my calves and thighs with each step as I minced along in my tight, satin lined skirt on those five inch heels! I saw a few people moving about and driving past on the street but nobody pointed, or laughed or yelled out. I did notice a few women give me a passing glance as they went about their business and a few men looking me over as we made our way to the office door.

Once inside I was now the “new” secretary and would be known as Deborah. I hung my car coat up, set my purse on my desk then went about my regular duties by making coffee. Donna looked me over.

“Yes, you’re a proper little secretary now, very nice, very ladylike.” Then, issuing a satisfied smile she went into her office.

In being off for a week there was a lot of mail and paperwork to file and catch up on. I finished with the coffee then swished into Donna’s office to deliver her cup. She noticed me mincing on the heels, my shiny nylons swishing under my tight pencil skirt and my bust jiggling under my satin blouse as I set the cup on her desk.

“Thank you Deborah dear” she said as she casually went back to work.

“Yes ma’am” I replied as I returned to my duties.

I sat down at my typewriter and was glad that Donna didn’t have my salon nails made that long. This way they were short enough so I could still type. And I had a lot of correspondence to answer and a lot of typing to do. So I set to work. A couple hours later Donna left for downtown on a couple errands and I decided to stay through lunch to stay safe at the office on my first day totally dressed as a woman, and to get the extra work done.

I took phone calls, answered letters and did my filing as usual then noticed myself in the mirror at the new look Donna had helped to give me. I ran my hands over my feminized form and was astounded! She had dressed me from head to toe and from the skin out! She had gotten me a complete new wardrobe so I would be able to look like the perfect little feminine lady every day around the office. She had corseted my waist, and gotten me a well padded girdle that really widened my hips and rounded my bottom, and I could feel the weight and jiggle from the silicone breast forms that now sat snugly in the cups of my satin brassiere under my lacy, white nylon full slip and my blue, long sleeved satin blouse with high collar and large satin sash bow at the front.

My eyebrows had been plucked into a high and feminine arch now and my ears had been pierced. I could feel the gold hoops as they dangled against my neck from under my long hairdo that was now dyed a bright blonde and fixed in a feminine style that parted in the middle and feathered away from my face in large sweeping curls. I was slightly built and small in stature to begin with but looked nothing like a man anymore and any masculine nuances I had were now hidden by Donna’s intensive week long training session and any left over manly traces were now totally muted, covered up and totally concealed by the ladies clothing, hairstyle, makeup, perfume and jewelry.

The days and weeks passed. And although we had little walk in traffic, no one ever suspected that I was a man. They simply saw the name plate “Deborah” and behind the desk a feminine, shapely lady going about her secretarial duties as the scent of perfume hung in the air and the sound of swishing nylon echoed through the office whenever I moved in my seat or crossed my legs!

I was about 5 or 6 I guess. I can remember my dad going ballistic, and right after dinner mom had me change back into my own clothes while she told me it was wrong for boys to dress as girls. After that I was always careful so as not to get caught whenever I dressed up. I always thought I was beautiful, but then, I was always looking at the ideal in the mirror rather than the reality.

My name is Tim Grant, I’m currently 5′ 5″ tall, weigh about 125 pounds, with green eyes with brown hair. My mother was just five foot, Claire my sister 5′ 2″, and dad was 5’6″. I sort of fell in the middle, and didn’t expect to get any taller. I knew I wanted to dress as a girl as often as I could and by the time I was 15 and starting high school, I was well aware of men who dressed as women. In fact I had found a lot of sites on the Internet that catered to them, and had printed out a lot of information, from how to make your own breastforms and padding to how to do makeup and hair. Experimenting, I made some birdseed breastforms and had cut some foam rubber into ovals to pad my hips and let my hair grow out until it was shoulder length, all in preparation for my debut this coming Halloween.

It was the one time of the year I could dress as a girl and `get away’ with it so to speak, and I had planned for that night very carefully. Claire had moved to college, but she had left behind a lot of clothes, and I had carefully tried on every item, and now I had several complete outfits, including shoes. My biggest downfall was hair. No matter how hard I tried I was never able to manage a truly feminine hairstyle. I managed to get close, but I was always unhappy with the results and usually put my hair in a ponytail.

As Halloween drew closer, I knew that I would have to confide in my mother because there wasn’t anyway around it, so one day right after school I told her that I was going to the school Halloween party as a girl. To my surprise, she asked me if I finally figured out how to be a girl! “What do you mean figure it out?” “What I mean is have you figured out how to become a perfect young lady.” I was at a loss for words! “Tim, you cannot possibly believe that I don’t know about you dressing up in private do you?” She knew! I was dead! “If you want to dress as a girl I insist that you let me help you get ready. Do you have everything you need?” “I borrowed some of Claire’s things mom, I have several outfits.” “Show me” Was all she said.

In my room I showed mom what I had selected to wear, all of it, and all she said was “adequate”! “I have to go to the store on Saturday anyway, so why don’t we get you dressed and let me see what you look like, and if you need anything we can get it then. I’ll even do your hair for you.” “Dad.” “Won’t be here all weekend. Now plan on getting dressed right after breakfast On Saturday.”

It was a very long two days as I wondered just what mom had in mind, but I was not about to let this opportunity slip by, and on Friday night I made sure that I didn’t have one stray hair anywhere on my body. Right after breakfast mom and I went to my room where I slipped on a pair of panties, then as she watched I used the foam pads to make my hips rounder. I slipped on the pantybrief and reached for the bra, but mom stopped me.

“Lets do makeup first Tim.” I walked into my sister’s room and sat at her vanity while reaching for the foundation. Mom sat next to, and slightly behind me watching, but not saying anything as I smoothed the liquid foundation evenly on my face. I started to reach for the eyeshadow, but mom stopped me. “Let me show you something Tim.” She dabbed at my face with some loose powder, letting it set for a moment before she brushed away the excess, leaving my skin looking smooth and soft, and all one color.

Mom watched as I added a bit of earth tone eyeshadow, then a soft plum over that, highlighted with black eyeliner on both upper and lower lids. I used a rose silk blusher on each cheek and was reaching for the lipstick when mom told me to wait. She sprayed my hair with hairspray, and began to curl my hair with a curling iron. As she worked I watched her carefully so I could do it myself if I had to, or had the chance. She left my hair all curled up, telling me to finish getting dressed. I slipped the bra on and added my birdseed breastforms to the cups. I now had a full `A’ cup.

Sitting on the bed I slipped on some pantyhose, then went to the closet to get the dress I had planned to wear to the party. “Oh no, not that Tim. For shopping you’ll want a skirt and blouse.” “Shopping?” “Of course! You’ll have to try on anything we buy, and I’m sure that you would rather look like a girl trying on clothes rather than a boy!” “But I thought. I mean. what if someone sees me!” “Then they will see a pretty 15 year old girl! Now find a skirt and blouse and lets finish getting you ready.”

I selected a pleated green skirt and a white blouse with a round neck collar, and as soon as I had them on mom finished brushing out my hair. I stepped into the black flats and mom handed me a soft red lipstick. In the jewelry box I found a pair of gold hoop earrings and slipped them into the holes in my ears after I took out the studs I usually wore.

Mom was grinning at me as she picked up some perfume and gave me a spritz. “I think that will do it for now, except for a name. I can’t call you Tim now can I?” Mom wanted me to tell her my deepest secret, and as much as I wanted to tell her, I was afraid! I was standing in front of the mirror looking at someone else. It was me, but different, like I was my own sister, and I was afraid to tell her the name I had chosen for myself. “Tell me Tim; I’ll bet it’s a pretty name.” “Gail.” I had blurted it out quickly, and mom smiled when she heard it. That’s a very pretty name! Find a purse Gail, and lets go shopping!” I was rooted to the spot until she took my hand and led me out of my room, stopped and picked up her purse, and continued out to the car.

I had never been outside the house dressed as a girl before and I was very nervous as we drove down the street. She reprimanded me twice for slouching down, and when we got to the mall she parked as far away from the doors as she could, even though there were places closer. Before we got out of the car she turned and looked at me. “You are a very pretty girl Gail, and going into the mall is exactly what you need. If you act like a girl, walk like a girl, and watch your mannerisms, nobody will know who you are. Actually I was counting on some of your friends being here, because that way you’ll have to be doing your very best or be discovered.” With that, she got out of the car and waited while I did the same. Standing next to the car I felt a breeze run up my skirt and held it down as mom just giggled. “Come on then Gail, we have a lot to do today.”

We went through the food court, and sure enough, standing right in the middle were some kids I knew at school! I stayed close to mom and we walked right on by, and they never gave me a second look, like they knew who I was! Out of earshot, I mentioned it to mom and all she did was smile. I walked beside her as she veered into a huge department store, and then into the lingerie shop. “We should get you some bras and panties of your own Gail. We’ll start with a half dozen panties and two bras I think.” Please note, she did not ask me, she told me. I selected two bras I liked and some nylon panties, but she said cotton was better, so I got the bras and cotton panties in assorted colors. “This party, is it fancy?” “It’s a Halloween party mom, not the prom.” “A pity.” “Huh?” “Oh, never mind dear, I was just wondering, that’s all. But you should have something to wear that would help foster the illusion; why don’t we go in here?” And in we went, to a store that catered to weddings, proms, and so on. Almost all of the girls in school bought their dresses here, and in fact two of them, Kelly and Jessica were there!

All I could do was act as if I belonged there, and mom and I sorted through the dresses until she found one she said was just perfect for me. Believe me, I was nervous as hell when she took me into the changing area, which was essentially a single huge room. I quickly put the dress on, but it didn’t look very good on me, and I took it off and convinced mom that we had to leave. She didn’t like it, but agreed when about five girls came in just as I was ready to leave.

“Maybe at Sares we can find something for you Gail, but you’re simply have to relax! You look fine!” I tried, and almost did relax once we got into Sares. Once inside mom picked out a pink suit, a sheath style dress and a jumper for me, plus several blouses before we left for the car. “When we get home I want you to try on all of the clothes, especially the suit. Save that to last, and wear the pink heels with it.” I did as she asked, and the new bras made me look a little more pert I guess, and all of the clothes fit me just fine.

The suit was unlike anything I had worn before. It had a short, straight skirt, which hindered the way I walked. The jacket was shaped to accent a feminine waist and only made me look better. I walked out to show mom, and dad was standing there! He looked at me and I waited for him to erupt, like a volcano held in too long, but he didn’t! “Howard, this is Gail, and she will be staying with us for a few days. She has a party to go to next Saturday, so we did a little shopping today.” Then he floored me. “You. look very nice Gail; are you going to dinner with us tonight?” I looked at mom, and before I could answer she said “yes of course she’s going with us!”

IT STARTED WITH A NIGHTIE

From what I’ve read and learned there are crossdressers, transvestites and transsexuals to be found in every walk of life, every background and every social group. I don’t think I could come up with one ‘type’ of person who couldn’t fall into one of those categories or another.

Fair enough, not every individual is a transvestite, but I reckon that we all know one without ever knowing it. The nearest to the ‘type’ of person I could think of who was least likely to be a transvestite was me. Now if that isn’t a sweeping statement I don’t know what is, but let me try and explain.

I’m in my mid-thirties and I work in the security industry. I love contact sports, football and rugby. I’m six foot tall, long-haired and I’m a heavy metal loving, part time writer, full time beer drinker. Oh, and I served in HM forces in all the mud and muck that the wetter parts of Europe could supply.

You know the sort, the gun-toting, hard drinking, hard swearing, macho type that terrifies the locals, smashes up bars and the countryside with equal abandon, all in the name of our national defence. Best off all, the good old tax payers paid me and my colleagues for doing it. Travel the world, meet interesting people and kill them. Fun, huh?

Lonely

When I left the forces I wandered about a bit, met some very interesting people and realised that I didn’t want to kill them. I got a short term contract job with a security firm and moved down South. It was in a not so sunny London that I first came across the ‘alternative scene’. I found London to be a pretty lonely place, busy as hell and full of people, but no one seemed to have a minute to spare for themselves.

Unless you got ‘in’ with the crowd quickly, it seemed you were destined to spend most of your time on your own. For a bit of pocket money, I worked the door at a couple of nightclubs, many of which ran theme nights. One of these was a real eye opener for me even though I’d lived in Germany for three years.

Fetish clubs seemed to be springing up all over the place – having seen evidence of one or two ‘fans’ at rock clubs and heavy metal gigs I wasn’t repulsed, but then again I wasn’t particularly drawn to it. I wasn’t really bothered either way, long sifts, little cash and little interest in anything but beer and bands really.

No whether this had planted a time bomb in me I don’t know, but a few years later I read a newspaper advert looking for new writers. One of the subjects the advert requested manuscripts under was erotica, so working along the lines of ‘anyone can write that’, I sent off for the publishers guidelines and got by return a sample of their previous output. One of the pieces was transvestite fiction at its very worst…

Putting my ‘anyone can write that’ attitude next to my very limited knowledge of fetish clubs, I set off and began writing. Easy as that, no problem, even my four finger typing couldn’t keep up with what was pouring out of the word processor.

Heady stuff this sudden creativity, it isn’t until you’ve read it over that you realise how bad it actually is. Descriptive, suggestive, sensuous, whatever words I tried to apply to the stories and tales didn’t quite fit. I’m biased enough to say it was good, but it lacked feel, missed intuition.

I couldn’t express what the characters felt when they were dressed or forcibly dressed, what was it like to put on lipstick or to wear spiked high heels? I didn’t know, and there’s nothing worse except writers block than having an excellent idea for a story but not knowing how your characters feel, act or react.

Crossdress

How was I going to get over the problem? Brain wave! Ask my girlfriend! Great idea? Well, yes and no. You see, I’d developed this particular character, Daniel – I’ll leave the plot out for the most part, but he’d fallen into a tangled web involving this mistress, she’d got him to crossdress and I didn’t know what to do with him.

The trouble was doubled in that the more I was writing, the more I was becoming intrigued by the whole thing. I found it easy enough to get into the character’s heads, but I couldn’t get into the character’s clothes, so to speak. If I was already writing good stories, how much better would the stories be if I understood what my character got from crossdressing? Which is roughly where the nightie came in.

The first time was innocent enough – HA! Who am I trying to kid! I don’t know if it was innocent or not, what I do know was that is was as broad a hint as I could possibly have come up with. I sneaked off to bed early one night, slipping under the duvet in the light blue, strappy nightie I’d ‘discovered’. Just below knee length, slightly flowered over the breasts (or where my breasts would have been). Soft and smooth on my skin. Exciting? Yes. Arousing? Definitely.

I lay quietly in bed, nervously waiting for my girlfriend. This nervous anticipation certainly lent an edge to the experience. At worst it would be outrage and disgust, at best she’d just laugh!

As it turned out, it was better than that – it was sensational! To protect the less than innocent I will spare you the details… oh alright then! I couldn’t get my head to follow what my body was feeling, from the touch of Lynn’s hands on me through the nightie, to the way my nipples seemed to set themselves on fire. Lynn ‘asserted’ herself and it came as a very pleasant surprise to me that she loved the ‘power trip’. When she straddled me and took over completely I was totally blown away.

It became a regular ‘nightie’ game, too regular for both of us really so we cooled off from it for a little while. The nightie was still around but it wasn’t on all the time. I explained to Lynn about my problem writing and where the idea for the nightie had come from. If I could work out what it felt like then I’d have a better idea what to do with the characters in the story. (I think I’d left poor Daniel standing there in a white lace nightdress and negligee).

After getting the problem off my chest, the writing took off again. I now had the added advantage of Lynn proff-reading and giving me a sounding board for ideas. I was very pleased with the insight into what women get up to getting themselves ready and why they disappear into the bathroom for hours on end.

I’d been writing almost by rote, following the same routine for the characters getting dressed, doing make-up and so on. Having Lyn’s guidance into how women think about their clothes and cosmetics gave me pointers. I was able to channel these into the characters, putting flesh onto the bones so to speak, albeit with a certain amount of guesswork. Some things were apparently sacred.

Lingerie

Somewhere along the line I graduated from the nightie to lingerie – bra, stockings, suspenders and panties. If the nightie had been a shock to the system, the lingerie just about blew my head off. I know that it was a little strange for Lynn, the first time I filled up the bra cups with balled up socks she wasn’t too happy at all. I could see her point, so I didn’t push it, though I think that when she saw what she could achieve by playing with my nipples through the bra, she was as impressed as I was!

After a boozy night at the local we got home and I got it into my head to ‘go all the way’. The beer having loosened my tongue from my brain I asked if she’d mind making up my face. She agreed with the proviso that in the future I was to start doing my own. Watching the transformation in the mirror while she worked, I was astounded by the amount of work that actually goes into making up a face. The change in my looks astounded me even more, once Lynn had attacked my unruly hair I just about fell off the side of the bath…

The make-up kept dragging me back to the mirror, staring at my reflection in fascination, puckering my lips and trying to see the ‘ME’ beneath the cosmetics. I’ve never been particularly fashion conscious, nor have I ever really been bothered with how I look. This ‘other self’ was immediately different though, I was deeply concerned about how my hair looked and what would other shades of lipstick and eye shadow do?

Lynn says she notices a change come over me when I’m dressed, calmer, softer, kinder? I’ve not really explored this with her, perhaps I should, but then again I find the prospect rather daunting. I know I feel much more relaxed and at ease and that I’m intensely aware of ‘myself’. It might be that I’m afraid of losing the feelings and sensations if I try to classify them. There is also the worry that Lynn is merely ‘putting up’ with my sudden interest in crossdressing. I’ve asked her, halfheartedly, if she minds. She has said that she doesn’t and that she actually actually likes it, though I still have the nagging fear that she’ll ask me to stop.

Guilt

That must be the guilt coming through I guess. Though why I should feel guilty about being a transvestite I don’t know. It’s not as if anyone I know has ever told me that crossdressing is the ultimate evil and that practitioners of this ‘black art’ will be sent to eternal damnation.

Alright, so the media does, and the bible does too. I’ve never paid much attention to the former, and no attention at all to the latter, so, as I don’t really care what anyone thinks of me, where does this guilt come from? I don’t know and I don’t care, but I don’t like it either.

High Heels

My worries over Lynn’s feelings towards my crossdressing were assuaged when she told me she’d love to see me in high heels. Quite where she got this bolt from the blue from I don’t know, but believe me I’m not complaining! She was insistent about it, even down to wanting twin thick buckle straps at the ankle and the style of the shoe!

The enforced change to my posture made me all the more conscious of the whole effect. My mannerisms and movement had to change and adapt, even I noticed this ans I revelled in it. Lynn was so right about the ankle straps, they definitely have an effect.

When I stand up or walk, my back is straighter and my legs appear longer and far shapelier. My steps have to be smaller and neater, calf and thigh muscles stretch delightedly. I’m always filled with elation when I hear the heels click on the kitchen floor.

We are never ever going to get a carpet or carpet tiles in there.

From Lynn I learned that less is often more, toning down my make-up from the full-blown parrot and panda to a more sophisticated look. I remember Lynn’s initial reluctance to kiss me after my first attempt at painting my lips, hardly surprising really as I might as well have used an industrial sized brush! The same conclusion occurred in the boob department. I’m slim as well as tall, so big boobs don’t work – smaller can be more beautiful and I think Lynn was absolutely right.

Outfits

Being on a restricted budget, neither Lynn nor myself can go on rash spending sprees – thank goodness for charity shops! Whilst our wardrobes are not bursting, they have grown and I’ve a selection of outfits to experiment with. My days off often coincide with Lynn’s work. Well, stick alone in the house with no intention of doing much, a girl has to find something to do, doesn’t she!

Not every day and often not all day, but Lynn will sometimes come home to find me dressed. After a quick inspection, we generally end up in bed, so I guess Lynn quite likes the idea of me being at home dressed while she’s at work

How far one goes is obviously dependant upon the individual. I can only speak for myself, of course, and I know how fortunate I must be compared to some of the other articles I’ve read.

I know I’m never going to pass in public, I would love to do so, but I know that it isn’t practicable. It doesn’t upset me because I can dress more or less whenever I wish and can stay dressed for as long as I choose. I also have an outlet through my writing. It doesn’t really matter whether anyone reads what I write; I can use my creativity to go out for me.

Granted, I’ll never buy a drink in a pub when I’m dressed, or go to restaurants etc, but I’ve done all that in ‘real life’. I combine the memories with what I know through my dressing and I’ve got the best of both worlds.

Convincing

As for being more convincing, yes, I’d love to be more convincing, to be able to express my ‘other’ self more openly. I am, however, conscious of the limitations and how far I’d be willing to go to achieve ‘convincing’. I fully expect that some transvestites long for their own breasts and would give anything for a course of hormones or a boob job. I understand that some people need to go all the way, to become the person they were born to be.

Me? Well, lets see. I’d love to have a trimmer shape. To that end I’d love to go overboard with corsetry. The idea of my body being forced to adapt to tight laced and boned corsets or basques thrills me. Obviously this would only work until I removed whatever garment it was, but I’m not looking for a permanent change. Then again, I do shave my legs and paint my toenails. I know neither are permanent, but they are longer term, and I often wear lingerie under my ‘normal’ clothes.

For me, the most wonderful aspect of transforming myself is painting my lips. I think that this is because it’s such a feminine thing to do. Similarly, painting my toenails and shaving my legs. I see where Lynn was coming from with the high heels as well, whether or not this is my defining moment, I don’t know. Then again, I’ve read so much on the subject of the ‘defining’ moment that I’m beginning to think mine is the

When I’m alone and dressed, I still get all the sensations that I had when I first slipped on the transvestite road, but when I’m dressed and Lynn is with me the sensations are heightened and intensified to such a huge extent that I sometimes struggle to keep my feet on the ground. I don’t feel the need to dress full time – often I don’t dress for weeks. The sensations and feelings seem to become all the more intense with each transformation, not only for me, but hopefully for Lynn too.

My writing has evolved from sketchy ideas to new heights, opening new adventures of exploration. I’ve also found that writing female characters has become a lot easier for me to handle, seeing things from different perspectives, ones I hadn’t really considered seeing things from. My crossdressing isn’t a crutch for the writing, nor is my writing a crutch for my crossdressing.

The writing could exist without the dressing, but would not be anywhere near as ‘readable’; I can write without being dressed and I can dress with absolutely no intention of writing. I should admit though, that my crossdressing sets my imagination free to pursue ideas that I would never have contemplated without ever having tried on the nightie…

One thing that I am absolutely certain about is that my writing would never have flourished without Lynn being there to prompt and probe.

Anne

FROM HE TO SHE

For one in 10,000 of the population, a hormonal imbalance in the uterus about six to nine weeks after conception is where it all starts. A study from the Netherlands examined the brains of straight and gay men, women and male-to-female transsexuals. They looked at part of the hypothalmus, an area of the brain that is affected by sex hormones during its development, and discovered that while the brains of straight and gay men were the same, the transsexual-to-female brains were almost identical to the brains of women.

However, knowing that the way you feel is due to a quirk of nature doesn’t make life any easier, especially when puberty kicks in and your body starts to head off down a route that is diametrically opposed to the way you want to go.

“I have people turning up who are on the point of suicide,” says Fran Springfield, specialist gender identity counsellor, “and self mutilation is not uncommon.” But, in a strange way, these are the lucky ones – they’ve recognised their situation and have taken the first step. Others are not so lucky. “Many transsexuals go through periods when they attempt to suppress or deny their condition. Some choose hobbies or jobs that are hyper-masculine in order to try to prove that they are not transsexual.”

Transsexuals can be found in all walks of life: Springfield has even had former SAS members come to her for help. Some transsexual-to-females who visit are in the 40s or 50s, have married and have children. Having made the initial contact the patient is now ready to embark on the journey from transsexual-to-female.

STEP ONE: Counselling

“Clients undergo many hours of counselling to determine that they are really transsexual and to rule out other psychiatric problems,” says Springfield. The only specialist nurse gender counsellor in the country, she has worked in the gender field for ten years, and is a member of the Harry Benjamin International Gender Dysphoria Association, an organisation which governs the treatment of transsexuals. The client is then referred to a psychiatrist for further evaluation.

STEP TWO: Hormone Treatment

Transsexual-to-females are given oestrogen which prompts them to develop breasts and a smaller waist. They will see more fat on their hips and smoother skin along with a reduction of body hair and loss of libido. Hormones do not usually stop beard growth which has to be removed by electrolysis. It can take up to 1,000 hours of electrolysis at £35 per hour to remove a full beard. Hormones do not alter voice pitch either, although speech therapy can help in that respect.

STEP THREE : Changing gender role

Patients will have to live in their new gender role for at least 12 months before an operation can be performed. During this time, all documents relating to the client are changed – driving license, National Insurance, everything except birth certificate. The patient must also come out at work – following the case of P vs Cornwall Council in the European Court in April 1996, transsexuals are now protected against discrimination in the workplace. A Home Office working party is expected to report in 2000/2001 on changing the birth certificates of post-operative transsexuals to reflect their new gender identity.

“The real life experience is important,” says Springfield. The 12-month period is a duration laid down by Harry Benjamin, who actually coined the term transsexual and, on a quite unrelated point, lived to be 102 years old. During this time transsexuals are checked up on to make sure that they are not cheating.

STEP FOUR : Counselling and Referral

Psychiatric examination follows more counselling to rule out delusion in the patient. After all, there will be no going back after the operation.

STEP FIVE : Surgery

It’s not only the end results that are good, there are also very few complications following the 4-5 hour operation. The patient is out of hospital in ten days and can be back at work in three months. The risk of prolapse is small and usually only occurs if patients have sex too soon after surgery or if the surgery is poor. Satisfaction rates with good surgery are 100 per cent. “The patient has got they body they always wanted,” says Springfield. “To see patients going from desperation to complete satisfaction makes the job very rewarding.”

Following surgery cases, 40 per cent of transsexual-to-females live as heterosexual women, 40 per cent are lesbian and 20 per cent pursue a bisexual lifestyle.

“Transsexuals are ordinary people who’ve gone through an extraordinary experience,” says Springfield. “Many live their lives without anyone knowing their background. You have probably met some without even knowing.”

You can contact Fran Springfield at http://members.aol.com/gics

Testimonials

Real extracts from customers letters or emails telling us of their personal results. The originals of all of these letters are held by Transformation for verification.

DO YOU WANT TO APPEAR ON OUR WEBSITE?

We realise that most of our customers guard their privacy & would not want to appear on video. But we also know that there will be a few of you out there that would love to appear as a convincing woman in a short video clip where even your mum would not recognise you!!! If you are interested in shooting a short testimonial video using your phone please ring Diane or Beverley for full details on 0161-773-4477 or email us here.

BECOME AN INSPIRATION TO OTHERS

Hi ladies, Just wanted to tell you about my visit to Manchester on Saturday. I went again for a changeaway and had just the BEST time. It was wonderful, and again, that is down to the staff you had on duty. As I walked in, Debbie remembered me, saying "Hi Sophie....you staying with us today?", which was the perfect introduction. Both her and Eileen were just fantastic. They take real care and have a genuine interest in you, in your choice of outfit, and your make up. You could say that is what they are paid to do...true, but actually, they did seem to genuinely care, and really did welcome me as a woman into their female fold. Eileen helped me pick my two outfits, listening and taking into account what I wanted, and advising me accordingly. Debbie then did expertly did my make up. Then, once changed, both treated me as the woman I want to be. I literally was one of the girls for the duration of my stay. It was just wonderful - truly magnificent. And my wonderful experience was down to their expertise and kindness. It was FAB-U-LOUS!! Can't wait for the next visit.

Sophie x

Hi Diane Just wanted to write and tell you that I went for two changeaways this week, and what a wonderful time I had. Just wanted to let you all in head office know the wonderful job that Eileen and Debbie did, in the makeovers.Both were fabulous, but Debbie was especially superb. She has this wonderful manner about her, which just makes me feel that, whilst I am there, I am a woman. Her makeovers, the way she picks out clothes, and the make up design and hair styling, are just fabulous. But then after that, she talks to you like you are one of the girls, about girly things that women would chat about, and it just comes naturally to her. It is not forced, there's no act, which makes you immediately feel accepted as a woman there. Transformation should be very proud to have her. Thanks Diane....I can't wait to return!

Sophie x

Hi, This is a note of thanks to your company and if one person is to be singled out it would be Beverley on the phone ordering service. After much deliberation and a little therapy I decided time was right to undergo hormone replacement, my first contact with Bev was lovely, I found her proffesional, patient and knowledgable of products so well qualified to guide me through, I placed an order which arrived next day and delighted, I feel Beverley should be congratulated and no, I am not related to her! Many thanks again from

Robyn

Dear Tracey I feel I had to write this letter to extend my thanks to you personally for my experience on Tuesday 22nd February. After plucking up courage the day before to enter the shop, I was made so welcome and comfortable the moment I entered the shop. Your professional attitude and empathy are a credit to you and I wish the world had more people like yourself to make people like myself feel more accepted in society. Once I had gained confidence I made a purchase and agreed that I would return the next day for a Changeaway. Upon arriving the next day I was greeted with the same enthusiasm by you as I was the day before. I then felt nervous again as there was another lady in the shop. I should have had no doubt that this lady (Christine) would show me the same respect as you. She is also a credit to your establishment. The whole experience that I had over the next few hours felt so normal. This is soley down to your relaxed and empathetic manner. As you know I have a very Plain Jane dress sense and you respected that and did not try to make me look like a Drag Queen. And how you gave me a waist I will never know, I have not had a waist since I was 16!!!!! Your knowledge on applying make-up made even me look special (in my opinion I am six foot tall, eighteen stone and look like a battered rugby player) You made me feel so relaxed that I actually found myself chatting to you as if I had known you for years and telling you all about my secret life and I can honestly say I have never talked this candidly and openly with anybody other than my wife. Saying that, I don’t think I have expressed myself so openly and been so frank as I was with you. Just like two sisters twittering on. You also made me feel so comfortable and convincing that I couldn’t believe that I sat in the shop the whole time. Please pass this on to your managers and feel free to use is as a testimonial if necessary. Once again thank you so much for my experience with you. You are a credit to both your company and yourself. Hope to see you next year when I am next in Birmingham Best wishes

Chris

Many thanks for your help recently. As you now know I visited your London shop unexpectedly yesterday as I realised I couldn’t make next week after all and what an amazing experience it turned out to be. I don't think I was ever made to feel so welcome in a shop before, it felt like more of a spiritual event than a shopping expedition; many, many thanks to Samantha & Karitas. I left your shop feeling freed from decades of suppressed emotion and truly I haven't felt so good about myself in many a year. If anybody who has only ever cross dressed on their own before and has any doubts about making such a step by visiting such an establishment (and believe me I can understand) just try it otherwise you'll never know what you have missed. Once again thank you to Samantha & Karitas for making it such a special day.

Steve

On Monday (16th) I gave myself a treat by spending a day out, and just over £400, at your branch in London. It is a pleasure to tell you just how helpful and kind both Beverley and Samantha were, Beverley paying particular attention to my needs, and also to tell you how much they both contributed to my enjoyment of my time there. Please pass on my grateful thanks for their time and attentionl. My only regret is that I could not stay any longer than I did as it took me over three hours to get there and roughly the same time to return to my home near Southampton. Highest regards

Dawn

Yesterday, I visited your Birmingham shop and had one of the most fantastic experiences of my life, thanks to Shirley. This was my first-ever visit and my first ever Changeaway. I arrived just before 11 o'clock and Shirley was in the shop. Her sixth sense came into play instantly, as she knew I was self-conscious and sensed I was also confused. She sat me down on the sofa, "magicked" a cup of coffee and asked quite a lot of very discreetly worded questions. The result was that she put me very much at ease (not completely, but that was down to me, not her) and established, out of her questions, a look that would suit me - I had no real idea except that I didn't want to look tarty, because this was not a joke to me. Shirley selected a breast size, measured me, selected a pair of suitable shoes, guided me on an ideal pair of panties (I wore them today all day) and off we went. She left me to strip down to underwear then came back and started work. With a suitable corset, she whittled eight inches off my waist, fitted my bra and breasts (fantastic - if only they had been real!) and made an elegant woman of me. She did a fantastic job - my face was the only bit I wasn't entirely comfortable with, but Shirley could only work with what she had! Here's the fantastic part of it all - when she had finished, Shirley walked round me and then looked me in the eye and said: "You look fabulous". And I thought she was right - but it was she who had made this fabulous transformation - and by saying what she did so spontaneously gave me a massive confidence boost. It has given me the resolve that this will not be my last visit. I had a particularly difficult phsychological obstacle to overcome and almost without my realising it, Shirley led me through it to perform true magic. Not only did I look fantastic, I felt fantastic. I sat in the lounge for quite a while, getting used to this new me, read a few magazines, learned how to sit from what I read and I loved it. Shirley, you are a marvel and I'm looking forward very much to my next visit and experiencing you working your wonders again. Thankyou so much - and thankyou Transformations for being there.

Love, Sarah

I want to thank you. my last order was complete and on time like every order i placed. the three gifts were perfect. i will make use of them throughout my transformation. they are needed essentials for the m/f transformation. i will put them to the test when i go out to clubs and concerts. when i started transformation at first, i was very uncomfortable. now, i look forward to face the world. I am no longer a closet dresser.

love Martha

Hi girls I want to thank you all for my purchases my new breasts Alice dress ankle boots etc.  I now have everything that I need to be a complete woman thank you all

love Carol from Manchester

I'm just emailing to say that the creams arrived early this afternoon and I've already had my first session with them. Here's hoping that I'm able to see some results in the near future. If you like, I'll keep you posted. Can I say once again a very big thank you and how very pleased I am with your service, your promptness in responding to emails, the speedy overnight delivery and for your very kind and discrete help when I called. It is all very much appreciated indeed and I'll certainly have no hesitation in contacting you again by phone. Very many thanks again and my kindest regards.

from Jaydee in the UK

This is one girl that is beaming with pleasure after receiving my new Realistic Vagina. It looks so real and thank you so much.

A Loyal Customer

from Ginger in USA

I would like to thank Maria for all her help and assistance when I have called the customer service line and for the way that she treats me like a woman. Maria has always explained every item I have asked about in a very helpful and respectful manner and I look forward to talking to her again soon. Many thanks

from Karen in Suffolk

Thank you so much Claudia for your understanding and kindness, your service and Customer Service staff are extremely friendly and helpful and are a credit to your company. Cant wait till my next treat from CDC.

from Allan

I have just received my Realistic Vagina and what a wonderful transformation it has made. I started wearing it immediately and have never felt better. Thank you so much for offering this product and I will buy from you again.

from Marryann in USA

Thank you very much for the parcel I received and shall be ordering again very soon and I will be recommending you fast efficient service to all my friends.

from Steffan

Jess United Kingdom

I just wanted to thank you I've been really happy with Transformation and the products are fantastic, they have not only made a difference to my body but also my quality of life. I think I would have committed suicide had I not found out about this site so I just wanted to personaly thank you all at Transformation  for your support. Your customer service is amazing and user friendly and I immediately  felt at home and I don't  have to pretend to be somone im not. Please thank Stephanie Anne Lloyd,  I think she is legendary and a true hero to the Trans people and I think shes saved and changed so many lives for the better. I only wish there were more people like that around. Im going to continue to use your services indefinatly where I feel safe and secure. Thanks for your help and have a nice night Jess x

Cross dressing has become a big part of my life and like others I would like to share my experiences and views, if you decide to post my article…”

Ok, so this is my story…

It is not one racked with with emotional turmoil, it probably wouldn’t even make a Mills and Boon novel. It is not one of a man’s desire to become a woman when he realises that he should have been born a girl.

But the interest being a TV has created to the general public and indeed to the unique individuals who visit the Transformation site, made me want to put fingers to keyboard (so to speak) and share my cross dressing experiences and views with you.

As I write this article, I do so as Jenna, my female alter ego. I am dressed as her, in lacey underwear, high heels and a short skirt with a bosom-hugging top to add to the air of occasion.

I am 31 now and have been cross dressing since the tender age of 6 or 7, or indeed as far back as I can remember. To be honest, I don’t know why I began cross dressing, but having an elder sister probably helped and may have been a starting point.

At that age, I cannot put it down to hormonal imbalances, or even starting to think to myself that I wish I had been born a girl, it was something that happened one day and has been a part of my life ever since. Looking back now, there still doesn’t appear to be a reason, but even to this day, I now have the urge to slip into my lacey underwear and my own female clothes and become Jenna whenever I can. My reasons are simple: female clothing is a damn sight prettier than my own, I love to wear it, I feel good when I am wearing it.

Why did I choose Jenna?

A couple of reasons really. Firstly, it is unusual (a bit like me I suppose) and secondly, it is quite a girly name which befits the way I feel when I cross dress.

I had never really thought of giving myself a female name or personna before, that was until I met a lass at a party, who was a transsexual. She listened to me and suggested my giving myself a girls name and it went on from there.

Throughout my life, there have been several occasions when the opportunity to dress as a woman, and actually go out in my party frock dressed up to the nines, have presented themselves. They were mainly confined to fancy dress parties, or pub and club nights, but even to this day I am still very much in the closet and have never met anyone in real life who feels the same way as me and understands why I and many others cross dress.

Speaking to someone by email is not the same as meeting someone face to face. When you can both sit down together, you can at least both dress as women and swap experiences.

The clothes I wear are my interpretation of how I think a woman should look, as indeed is many other TVs’ perceptions. I love sexy, lacey underwear. I love wearing figure hugging skirts, tops or dresses finished of with a set of perfect legs and of course, the good old high heel shoe. I own a pair with a 4 inch heels and I wear them as often as I can, because I think they look really feminine and I look good in them.

I think I dress the way I do because I am very envious of how many sexy women there are in this world, and as well as wanting to be able to pass convincingly as one of them, I would prefer to share my bed with one as well. Kind of have my cake and eat it.

They have so many beautiful things — what do men have? A chauvanist attitude and a dull, grey suit…

I feel great when I am dressed as my alter ego and it also helps in de-stressing me at the end of another crap day at the office. I have to keep my feelings and wanton desires well in the closet when I am at work, as well as at home as the wife refuses to accept that I am TV and life could become very unbearable.

Going back to dressing as a woman: my feelings can sometimes be really overwhelming. I enjoy dressing in petite feminine things (I am a slim size ten by the way). I even used to bunk off school in my teenage years, just so that I could rifle through my sister’s clothes and spend the day pampering myself as every woman does now and again.

I buy my own clothes, the knowing look of the spotty faced Saturday girls are always a bit disconcerting… can they actually sense that you may have an ulterior motive for that bag full of sale priced clothing you have just purchased? One would certainly think so. Why does it always seem to take so long for the items to be put through the tills, accompanied by the girly titters and giggles. Embarrasing as it may be, as long as you look good and feel comfortable in that nice sexy little outfit you have just purchased, who cares?

Which brings me nicely onto my next point:

..that of the narrow minded views and opinions of the good old public… I can’t discriminate, but it really annoys the hell out of me when you get the big mouthed idiot or the unsavoury characters shall we say, who make life unbearable for each of us, each TV – a unique person in my own opinion.

Yes, it isn’t the done thing for a man to dress in women’s clothing. It could be misconstrued as being abnormal, but what the hell. You can only take so much abuse, but the narrow minded views of individuals who think that just because you are TV you must be perverted push the limits. Is it any wonder that most TVs remain in the closet?

Underneath the mascara and lipstick there is still a man, and I am pretty sure that most people will only take so much before they explode, myself included.

Some women actually actively encourage their partner’s cross dressing. They feel that if they help their menfolk to become women, not only do they gain a confidente, a sister, a good female friend, they also gain the respect, love and admiration only a part-time woman can bring.

Most feel threatened though, God knows why.

Personally speaking, I have no desire whatsoever of becoming a full time woman. Not taking away the respect I give to those who have made such a huge emotional decision, it certainly takes guts. I have a friend who is in the final throes of their transition to full time womanhood.

I admire and respect her, but at the same time I pity her because of what women face. There is no doubt that they are, probably, the weaker sex in some respects. They are used and abused in a very male-dominated world and more often than not taken for granted, something of which I too am guilty at times.

So where does that leave me? Still in the closet I’m afraid, unless by some freak act of nature I turn into a female overnight or the world actually realises that TVs do exist but underneath our lipstick and mascara we are human too.

I would love to wear my lacey underwear under my clothes, but I can’t, I have to remain behind closed doors. Perhaps Jenna might come to fruition one day and people will understand.

I am a normal person, I just enjoy dressing as a woman.

Take Care One and All

Regards, Jenna