Message-ID: <4586eli$9710041852@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: sapphire@mhv.net (Sapphire) Subject: NEW TG: Patricia ( 6/ 52 ) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <34359135.28458848@library.airnews.net> Hi folks - A NEW multi-part Transgender story ! (Posted with written permission from the author!) Enjoy! Sapphire Sapphire's Place TG Fiction Archive Sapphire's Channel - Pointcast and Webcast TG Fiction ( http://www1.mhv.net/sapphire ) All the Warnings to Minors are in effect. There are parts that some feel could corrupt your young minds. ----The Story Follows---------------------------------------- Chapter 6 May 1993 Day Three Dressing as a Female Thursday, May 6th I fell asleep quickly and slept very well all night. It was just getting light when I woke up and I guessed it must be around 6:30 in the morning. Rolling over on my side, I saw a little bedside clock and verified my opinion. It was 6:22. This movement also was verification of my new sex. My long hair was caught underneath my body and limited my freedom of motion. And those somewhat pendulous boobs were not very helpful either. I extricated the hair, threw back the covers and got out of bed. This was to be my third day as a woman. Walking into the toilet, I had forgotten what I was wearing. I felt the sheer material of the negligee on my body and it did a little to make me feel just a bit feminine. But in the bathroom and looking at myself in the mirror, I again was taken back by the stranger peering back from the reflection. The reflected image and my own mental recollection of my appearance were completely different. I thought of myself as a fairly lean and well built young man but I was observing a complete female, very slim, soft and round. I went to the pot, sat down and relieved my self and then back to the sink and washed my hands and threw some cold water on my face to get the sleep out of my eyes. I decided I needed a cup of coffee so I went into the kitchen and prepared the automatic and turned it on. Back in the bedroom, I remembered the little athletic work out of the previous day and the dressing could wait until after I exercised and showered. I pulled off the night gown, found my panties and some shorts from the dresser drawer and put them both on. Then I pulled the same jersey shirt over my head and neglected to put on a bra. Bra's were just too much bother and I didn't really like wearing one even though they did make it less distracting during normal movements. But what the heck, I could try and get acclimated to their presence during my workout. I went into the exercise room and spent the next forty five minutes or so, using the cross country ski machine and doing some simple exercises with little bar bells in my hands. This new body of mine appeared to be quite limber and I wondered why. I had always been in fairly good shape, but nothing spectacular. But doing some of the exercises I was surprised at the contorted positions I could easily maintain. That physical therapy and exercise machines at the hospital must have been quite effective as I seemed to not only have maintained my physical conditioning, it had been improved. I tried a back bend and soon had my hands on the ground near the heels of my feet. I thought for a moment, said what the hell, and managed to complete the exercise by bringing up my legs into a back handstand and then flipped over on my feet in a vertical position again. I was amazed with this feat. For the heck of it, I suddenly decided to try a full split and effortlessly was soon on the floor with one leg extended forward and the other to my rear in a perfect and graceful split position. I could never have done this as a man just three months ago. I gave a silent thanks to those wonderful physical therapists at the clinic. Feeling wide awake and totally refreshed, I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee and then back into the bath and removed my sweaty clothes and dumped them in to the hamper by the side of the bath. Next for a shower. Not wanting to spend a half hour brushing out my hair, I looked in the bathroom drawers for something to hold the hair on the top of my head. I found a box of hairpins, then pulled back the hair into a pony tail, twisted it and wound it in a couple of circles around the crown of my head and then secured it in six or eight places. Seeing my image in the mirror, I was again surprised at the sensuous image reflected back with my hair piled on the back of my head. My new face was so completely feminine and pretty. And then the thought occurred me, I had just wound up my long hair on my head, pinned it in place and hadn't even realized just what a alien gesture this really was. I shuddered and suspected that some of those hypnotic suggestions were having an effect on my mind. I turned the shower on and adjusted the shower head so the water wouldn't inundate my head. Satisfied with the temperature, I got in and found my washcloth and started cleaning my body. I had never tried to take a shower without immersing my head and hair in the stream of water and it took a extra care to keep the hair dry. I soaped my face, body, arms and legs and rinsed off. I used the wash cloth to clear the soap from my face and neck just to protect my hair from the water. Then I took the soap and did a complete cleaning of my vaginal area, similar to the way I did it yesterday. The most interesting part of the entire shower was washing my breasts. The rest of my body may be quite changed, but these big things were something else. I could ignore most of the changes to my body when I wasn't looking into a mirror or bathing, but the breasts were just omnipresent. They were big, well formed and in spite of my self, I really thought they were quite beautiful. I hated them and sort of loved them at the same time. And they definitely were quite sensitive to the touch, so full and large, but also soft and yielding. I got out of the shower, grasped a towel and completely dried off. This little exercise convinced me that my body was now completely female and reluctantly, I was starting to accept the inevitable fact that I was no longer a male. A more astute person would have accepted this fact two days ago, but I just wasn't willing to face up to the reality of my new body. I was now a woman, not a man, and I was trying to acquiesce to this fact. A look in the mirror made it obvious. There was nothing even slightly male in the countenance peering back at me in the reflection. I was looking at a very pretty girl with a beautiful face, long hair piled on her head in a large knot, prominent breasts on the slender torso above the diminutive waist and very feminine full hips. And the legs below were quite lovely, long and slim. But the real shocker was the pubic area where my penis and scrotum were completely absent and replaced by that vacuous area in my crotch. But I was slowly becoming aware that this "vacuous" area was not really just a void, but in fact were equally sensitive and responsive organs as replacement for my male genitalia. They were just inwards and not outwards, organs designed to receive and not to give.. I was a woman, would remain a woman and decided that I should try and live like a woman. And that meant dressing and really looking like a woman. I could try and ignore these rather drastic physical changes and continue pretending that nothing had happened. But quite decidedly, something had happened and I was going to have to face it squarely. Today I was going to try and live as a female, dress as a female, and act as a female, just to see if I could if for no other reason. No jeans, no tennis shoes, nothing that was unisex, but go the complete route. I now had to decide about the dress for the day, something that would be comfortable to wear and still convince myself that I was trying to adapt to the female way of life. Still in the buff, I went to the closet and looked through the racks and hangers of clothing. Fifteen or so skirts were hanging there, an even larger number of dresses, a bunch of slacks, and a whole row of blouses. I had to choose and was trying to make up my mind between a skirt and sweater combination, a elaborate blouse with slacks, or one of the many dresses. I finally chose a light cotton dress, it looked like it was fairly short with a low cut neck line, sort of a pinafore design. The dress was a green print with a design of little yellow flowers, and the skirt looked rather full and wouldn't be too shamelessly and seductively snug. I then looked for some matching shoes, and decided on some white slings with about two inch heels. I chose these shoes with some trepidation as I could have picked some similar shoes with flat heels. But what the heck, I had never worn a high heeled shoe on my foot and this would be a completely new experience. As far as that went, I had never had on a dress before, but it should be similar to a bathrobe. I picked up the dress and shoes and went into the bedroom and laid them out on the foot of the bed. While I was at it, I quickly gave the bed a quick makeup so I could lay everything out before I started getting dressed. Into the dresser drawers and I found some scanty panties, one of the lower cut brassieres, and some light tan panty hose. I wondered if I should wear a slip with the dress and decided I would at least bring one out to try on and see if it was needed. I first put on the panties, and then struggled with the brassiere. It was slightly easier today, but still a bother. The brassiere was extremely low cut with the fabric just covering my nipples and thrusting the bulk of the breasts up and out. Looking down, I could hardly see the bra and instead saw a great expanse of cleavage and bare breast. And the worst thing was that these breasts were part of me, intrinsic to my physique and not just a temporary prosthesis. I could feel pain and pleasure in them, feel the movement of these breasts when I walked or moved, and observe them protruding from my chest every time I glanced down. Then sitting on the side of the bed, I picked up the panty hose and thought about how one went about getting them on. Probably much like putting on knee high socks. Putting my hand down inside one the legs until my hand was at the end of the stocking. Then placing the toe of the sock over my foot, I pulled it up over the calf of my leg. Then the same with the other foot. I stood up and pulled the hose up to my waist and adjusted them so as to remove any wrinkles along my legs. Looking down over my breasts and seeing how sleek and feminine the hose made my legs appear, I was beginning to feel felt quite uncomfortable in the brassiere, panties, and panty hose. But uncomfortable wasn't really the sensation. It was more like I was a child and dressing up in my mothers clothes and feeling both guilty, queer and inexplicably, somewhat excited while doing it. But unlike a child just dressing up and pretending, this lingerie was just emphasizing my complete feminine appearance. And in spite of the fact that I felt like a flaming faggot, the mirror belied this belief with the reflection of a quite delightful young girl. Finally, I picked up the slip and stepped into it, pulling it up around my waist like the panty hose. Well, I was half dressed. However, my hair was still rolled up on the top of my head, and I decided I would try and so something different but simple with it. And then there was the decision to either try some facial makeup or leave that for a later day. I figured what the hell, I would go the entire way and look as feminine as possible. These tasks would be accomplished before I put on the dress and shoes. I walked into the bathroom and was really impressed with the underwear, or to be more exact, the lingerie I was wearing. The skimpy little bra exposed large portions of feminine flesh and my legs, encased in the cool slinky feeling of the nylon felt completely different and somewhat sexy in a female manner. The rayon half slip, frilly and sinuous hanging down around my hips further intensified this extremely girlish effect. I did a slight pirouette on the way just to feel the slip flair against my nylon clad legs. This was a complete different experience for me and I was sort of enjoying it. However, I wasn't sure if I felt like a delicate girl or a very peculiar man. Now for the hair. I reached to the top of my head and pulled out the hairpins holding my hair up and released it letting it fall down my back. When it was completely free, I picked up a brush and started brushing out the long hair. It was a lot easier now when it was dry than yesterday when I had started with a tangled damp mess. But it still took over five minutes of brushing to get the hair falling down in a healthy and silky looking mass. Pushing it all to the back of my head, I picked up a comb and made a line roughly from the top of my left ear to the top of my right ear. Separating this hair from the rest took a bit of doing and keeping the part fairly straight was exceeding difficult. With my right hand manipulating the comb and my left hand trying to get control of the bunch of separated hair, I nearly got frustrated. But eventually I had the hair from the top of my head in my fist and pulled it away from my face. I picked up a rubber band type thing from the drawer and tried to fasten it around the new hank of hair. Succeeding, I brushed out the top tresses and then the rest of the hair hanging down my back. Reading about it in the book had made the entire process seem a lot simpler. Back into the drawers I was looking for some ribbons. Searching all the drawers, I came up empty so back into the bedroom again and into the dresser drawers. Finally, I found a little drawer that was just filled with ribbons of various lengths and colors. Picking out a variety, I held them next to my chosen dress and finally decided on one green and one yellow, each about two feet long, that seemed to match the colors in the dress fairly closely. Back to the bath, again impressed with the feeling of my legs and their affinity with the slip, I reached to my head and pulled the little pony tail down in front of my eyes so I could accurately separate the hair into three separate bunches. Then tucking in the two ribbons underneath the rubber band holding the mini-tail in place, I proceeded to braid the hair, including the green ribbon with one strand of hair and yellow ribbon with a second strand. This should have been fairly easy, but doing it blindly behind my head was a real challenge. I was having a hell of a time keeping the various hanks of hair straight and separate from the others. But finally finished, I fastened the end of the braid with another rubber band and went back to the bedroom and the ribbon drawer. I picked out a big white bow with a clip embedded in it and securely fastened to the base of the braid at the crown of my head. I found a hand mirror and looked at the completed effect and it looked really quite good. However, I was judging this more from the vantage point of an engineer than a hair dresser. I had worked hard to get the hair looking like this and I was pleasantly surprised and pleased with the results. I picked up my hair brush and gave a number of strokes to the unbraided hair and finally decided that I looked ok. Then I was again surprised and mentally realized it that I was thinking in a very female manner again. I suspected both the hypnosis and the hormones with this discovery that I was no longer thinking in a completely male manner. This change of mental perspective was nearly as shocking as the physical changes to my body. I went back to the bedroom and sat at the dresser and turned on the lights to illuminate my face. I opened the drawers, one by one and found one that was just loaded with all the items I had read about yesterday afternoon. I picked out a couple of lipsticks, some blush, an eye kit with eye shadow, and some mascara. I eschewed the pancake base figuring enough was enough. I looked at the lipsticks and chose a rose shade that wouldn't be overly noticeable, yet would look entirely odd on a man. Picking up a little grease pencil, I applied a very thin line around the outline of my lips. The lips had been changed drastically from the lips I had as a man, the bottom lip was slightly fuller and the top lip had been greatly enhanced. Picking up the rose lipstick, I applied it to upper lip, then the bottom one. Then using a little paint brush, I started to very carefully smooth out the application. What ever I looked like, I didn't want to look like a whore. Finishing, I picked up some tissue and blotted it like I had read and looked at the finished mouth. I added a touch of lip gloss and looked in the mirror. The lip color would have looked out of place on my old male countenance, but in my new feminine face it looked quite unexceptional, just a natural enhancement one would expect on that lovely countenance. Searching through the drawer, I spotted a bottle of liquid that was labeled "Lip Saver" and applied a coating of that stuff to the lips on top of the color and the gloss. According to the directions on the bottle, this stuff would keep the color from coming off on everything my lips touched. Then it was on to the eyes. Using the eyeliner, I outlined the basic contour of the eye lids, again in a very thin line and then applied a little green eye shade. I picked up the mascara and slowly tried to get some on my lashes. The upper eyelashes were little trouble, but the lower ones were much more difficult. I was very careful not too use much, just a touch. And the effect was quite startling. I don't recall reading anything about enhancing my eyelashes, maybe it was the female hormones, but they were huge and the mascara made them seem so damn prominent. In fact my eyes were like orbs of fire in the middle of my face. I touched up my much diminished eyebrows with eyebrow pencil and then a little blush for the cheeks and I was finished. My first attempt was quite an ego builder. My face was enhanced, but didn't look painted and I didn't appear to look like a whore. In fact, the entire face didn't really show much of the makeup, I looked quite natural, that is if I wanted to be taken as a pretty girl and not a normal man. I was quite pleased with myself. There were some good things about being female. In fact it was quite pleasing to see my image in the mirror. Now the nails on my fingers. My nails were quite a bit longer than I had ever worn them, about one-quarter to three-eights of an inch from the quick. I found the row of finger nail polishes and picked out a color that sort of matched my lipstick. I opened the bottle and pulled out the brush, wiping the excess paint off at the bottles rim. Then very carefully, I applied the finger nail polish to my nails. I tried to be very careful, but couldn't help but paint part of my finger also. I reached for the polish remover, dabbed some on a tissue, and continued on. Eventually I had all ten nails looking quite bright. I held out my hand and was very fascinated with the delicate look of my hands with their painted nails extending from my long slender fingers. I then repeated the entire operation with a second coat. And as the book had instructed, I finally added a coat of clear polish to seal the results. This took nearly a half hour. Well, my face, hair and nails were done, now into the dress and finally some jewelry. I went into the bedroom and picked up the dress, unsnapped the back and stepped into it. Pulling it up over my hips, adjusting the bodice around my bust and getting my arms through the shoulder straps was quite arduous. Next time I would try it over my head from the top down instead of from the bottom up. As I tried to fasten up the back, I was again wondering why all female clothes require a contortionist to fasten up the backs. Men's clothes, quite sensibly, usually, if not always fasten from the front, but at best, women's clothes zip or button on the side and usually, it is down the middle of your back where you can't get at those little hooks or buttons very easily. I thought it completely ridiculous. But eventually I was fastened into this costume, at least that was how a felt about the dress, a costume, not real clothing. I went to the jewelry drawer and looked at the rather large selection of costume jewelry there. I tried on ten or twelve different rings and finally settled on four, two on each hand. Then a necklace, bracelet and ear rings. There was a set nested together that included three bracelets and a necklace. They were all silver filigree and I held them up to my breasts, judging how they would look. I was satisfied and put them one. Two of the bracelets on my right arm and one on the left with the necklace around my neck. I looked at all the baubles in the drawer and my eyes centered on a matching set of six silver rings, a completely suitable match for the necklace. The two smallest were just a tiny little silver filigree studs, the second two were similar but slightly larger and the last two were long dangling ones. I selected these and laid them out on the top of the dresser. I picked up one of the little ones and pulled the fastener off of the pin. Reaching up to my right ear, I positioned it at the top hole and tried to feed that little pin through my ear. It slipped through easily and I added the fastener to hold it in place. I continued with the rest of them and had no problem installing them in my ear lobes. The completed effect was quite striking and fairly sensual. The top two were quite decorative and the bottom one's came down behind my cheeks. For some reason, I have always been intrigued with women's ear rings, and seeing these on my new face gave me a nearly sexual thrill. I seemed to be getting into this dress up thing and was enjoying it. Was this the lingering ideas of a transvestite male or the beginnings of female thought. Either way, the idea was anathema to me. Back to the bedroom and sitting on the side of the bed, I tried on the shoes and they fit nearly perfectly. Or probably did fit perfectly for a woman who was used to a tight fit all of her life. To me, they seemed slightly uncomfortable on the small side, but were adequate. After all they were really just a bunch of straps with a little leather on the sides. Then I stood up and wondered what I looked like. My apartment had two full length mirrors, one on the door to my bedroom and one on the door of the living room. But with a quick look into the bedroom mirror I walked to the living room with it's full length mirror on the outer door. I sort of waltzed out of the bedroom and into the living room, not having too difficult time balancing on my new high heeled shoes. I walked a bit differently that normally, mainly since the high heels weren't meant to carry the full weight of the occupant and they were far to diminutive to walk with a normal heel toe movement. This forced me to walk with a flat footed gait, sort of clumping my way across the rooms. It must be an extremely graceful woman who looked at ease and poised in high heeled shoes. In the living room, I saw my reflection in the mirror as I approached it. I observed an extremely willowy looking girl who wasn't acting all that graceful, advancing on the mirror. As a man, I know that I would have been impressed with this hunk of pulchritude promenading across the room. Glancing down at my breasts, I noticed that the dress just covered the fabric of the bra and little else. A lot of cleavage and well rounded flesh was quite evident. I walked up to the mirror, twirled around a couple of time to make the skirt and slip flair out. If I turned quick enough, my hair also swung away from my back, my ear rings swayed and it all looked and felt very sensual. I may be still be thinking mainly like a man, but I was looking at one hell of a foxy woman. The long hair swinging down my back, the ear rings, the dress over the slip, all made me feel like a faggot in drag, a relatively horrible feeling. But there also was a rather subdued and hidden feeling of a woman dressed quite nicely and looking very sexy. It was with these mixed feelings that I stared at myself in the mirror. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /