Zoes’s Trans Woman Story

Zoes’s Trans Woman Story

The story begins in what I think was 1970, which would make me about 6 years old. There was another boy in my class at school whose parents weren’t very well off, and one morning he didn’t have any trousers to wear for school. What exactly can this have to do with the story, I can hear you asking?

Well, as I said, this is where my story began (or maybe before as the thoughts were already there), but this poor young child had to come to school in a pair of his sisters green woollen tights (you know the kind, the ones that little girls wear), and all I was thinking was that I wish my mum would send me to school in a pair of those tights too, and a skirt and blouse like all the other young girls were wearing.

There was a girl in my class called Helen – she was very pretty and had long fair hair, in which she always wore ribbons or a hair band. I used to go to sleep at night after saying a prayer that while I was asleep, could God please make me look like Helen, as I really wanted to be a girl and didn’t feel right being a boy.

It wasn’t a sexual thing then, I can’t really put my finger on what exactly it was, but I knew that I really should be a girl.

I can then remember going shopping with my mum in the high street, and she called in a local shop to collect some wool. The lady behind the counter began a conversation with her, and as I looked at her I began to notice her breasts – and please remember that in those days bras weren’t as shapely as they are today, they were sort of pointed and very rigid looking. I asked my mum if I would have busters like the lady’s behind the counter when I got older. She was very embarrassed as you can imagine, and we made a very quick exit from the shop.


Things were forgotten for quite a while, I suppose until I reached puberty, and I was at comprehensive school. There was a girl in some of my classes called Jane – nothing stunning, in fact she was probably very ordinary – but all I wanted was to be like her, long white socks, grey skirt, white blouse, and grey school jumper.

I would go home from school and unroll long lengths of toilet tissue, roll it up in to balls and put it down my jumper. I would then put on one of mums grey skirts and a pair of her shoes – it felt nearly right, but it would never be right for me as perfection is all that I wanted, and if I couldn’t be a girl it wasn’t good enough.

It wasn’t long after this that we went to a party at an aunts and my cousin, a girl who was quite a bit older than me, was talking with her brother about something (I cant remember what), but she said something which made me sit up and listen. What did she say I hear you ask? Well it was something to do with a friend and a sex change. It was said in fun and this friend didn’t really want a sex change, but it was the first time I had heard about such a thing, and I thought “they don’t really mean that you could actually change sex do they?”.


I carried on all through school dressing up, and then started to go out with girls but sex wasn’t right, something was missing. When I was seventeen I met this girl and went steady for quite a while just to fit in (my brother had a steady girlfriend and I wanted to look normal), but when having sex we used to try different positions and one of these was to get her to lie on her back on top of me and I could run my hand down to her vagina and imagine that it was really mine. I would caress her breasts and imagine what it would be like to really grow a pair. Of course I already know what it is like to have sex as a girl, how it feels, the emotions, the excitement and everything – I can’t explain this, it is something which I just knew.

About a year after this I met another girl. We moved in with each other and it was bliss; all the clothes I could possibly want to play with when she was at work. I was very slim then and could just squeeze in to a size ten. I would put make-up on and for a day I was a girl.

After a year we split up, and I went back to live with my parents – for quite a few years cross dressing didn’t happen, and on the outside I was again what people would call normal.


When I met my wife things just began again. It’s impossible to suppress the urge to dress as a girl because it’s the right and normal thing to do, because deep down I think that really I should be a girl. At 36, fat and balding though, I don’t think that this will ever be. Some days you get depressed, and of course the feeling never goes away and never will.


I have considered leaving my wife and beginning a new life as Zoë, full time, but can’t make the break. I just want to disappear and go somewhere where I can be with other people like myself, to share the real me with people who don’t run a mile or call you a weirdo, queer and the like. Of course this hasn’t happened to me as I am still in the closet (and you don’t meet many people in your bedroom closet do you?). I really want to grow breasts, but as a Changeaway Assistant pointed out to me, my wife would be wondering what the hell was going on if her husband suddenly started to grow breasts.

This is the story so far, in brief, and is still going on.


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