This is not fiction. This is your story and mine. This is our life, and we share it with millions of sisters across the face of the Earth. It crosses all potential boundaries of race, religion, social status, education, and age, allowing each of us in her own way to take the most exhilarating journey imaginable . . .
I begin this journey of words today while living it in the flesh, wearing some of the most delightful garments I own. My foundation is simple: a flesh-toned underwire bra filled to my desired cleavage, and nylon panties in cream with a subtle blue floral pattern and soft cotton lace at the waist.
To this I added an immensely silky pair of ivory thigh-high stockings and the most delightful brown and cream one-piece jumpsuit. Even as I type, I am enjoying the feel of the flared chiffon sleeves against my wrists. A pair of cream-colored heels complete my outfit, and I am now set to take you through our mutual journey.
Are you ready for the trip? Are you properly attired? Do not continue reading unless you have joined me in a feminine paradise. For today, to get our journey started on the right heel, select only your most favorite garments and put them on now. Take your time, enjoy every moment of your transformation, then return. I'll be here waiting, fantasizing about what you may be wearing when you return . . .
The mere glimpse of such a feminine figure is enough to arouse a primal instinct deep within you. It is utterly unexplainable and clearly beyond the control your rational mind tries place upon it. Your femininity, which is always present but seldom expressed, has been touched.
It may also happen unexpectedly anytime of the day in your office or on the street. You hear the click of high heels approach on the sidewalk. Like a magnet, the sound attracts your attention and will not release it. When you finally see her, she is attractive though not stunning. She is buying a newspaper from the sidewalk vending machine.
You watch from a distance as she casually flips her hair to one side and removes the change from her purse. Your eyes are riveted to the hem of her skirt, pulled tight just above her knees as she bends slightly to reach inside the machine. You cannot help but think how wonderful it would be to feel that sensation yourself.
Her rose-colored suit is tailored, fitting the contours of her body very nicely. As she opens the newspaper, you catch a glimpse of the white silk blouse she is wearing beneath her jacket, and your mind races to the last time you wore such a blouse. You cannot help but yearn to be wearing one now.
But then you distract yourself. You know that if you didn't, you'd be racing home right now to emulate the life she is leading. You know that in a moment she will see the same hosiery ad you encountered. Unlike you, however, she will calculate the number of pairs of pantyhose she will need in the coming weeks and make a decision on how many to buy. She may even develop a run this morning and have to buy a new pair on her lunch hour.
You find yourself in a state of envy which does not evaporate even as you watch her deliciously slender ankles, clad in garments you positively crave, disappear into her car. No matter what she encounters today, you think, she will do so dressed as you can only dream about.
You may be sad, but you know that surviving such emotional gymnastics is something of an accomplishment. You are not debilitated by your desires, but your life would be an easier place to live without them. So you find ways not to notice the objects of your desire. You find ways to concentrate your efforts on whatever task is at hand, to block out the tingling sensations you feel when . . .
You smell her perfume. It is a ravishing scent that transports you immediately into her world. Even if you didn't know it to be emanating from her wrists, or the back of her knee, you would be entranced. It is a delicate aroma that seems to enhance and complete her femininity, extending it beyond the confines of her physical body.
As you drink it in, you know that her scent allows you to share, if only briefly, in her very womanhood. You are able to imagine that it is your body giving off that delicious aroma, and that you are allowing others a glimpse into your own femininity.
You wonder what she thought as she put it on. Did she see it as a simple routine measure, something she does so often that she doesn't even give it a second thought? You feel a shiver travel up your spine. You know that in order for her to be so casual, she must have been doing it for years, a dream you've often dreamed.
Or did she have a mischievous smile as she pondered where to apply the scented elixir? Perhaps she knew that today would be special in some way and wanted the world to know. Perhaps she hoped for something special and knew she could take matters into her own hands. Perhaps she intentionally put on only enough to give a special treat to those who she allowed to get close enough. That's what you would love to do, wouldn't you?
In the elevator it's impossible to tell who she is. Is she the lovely young blonde in the front, or the more mature woman in lavender to your right? Is she the one who smiled at you as you got on, or the more beautiful college girl in jeans and black flats? As the elevator empties, you try to discern who she is, but you are unsuccessful. For a moment you enjoy a small hallucination in which you carry the scent with you throughout the day, announcing your femininity everywhere you go . . .
From this point on, it is The Instinct that controls you. It pervades your every move and filters all of your senses. Every sight and sound and smell drives you further and further toward the inevitable. The Instinct is rooted so deeply within you that you may as well try to change your eye color. The Instinct reminds you at all times that though you are not expressing her, she is there.
She leaps to the foreground again at the first sight of long, carefully- manicured fingernails drenched in luscious red polish. Beyond the nails you see a delicate ring, and beyond the ring an even more delicate bracelet. The length of her nails exaggerates the already-delicate arch of her slender fingers which taper perfectly into a lovely hand. You fantasize about peering down to your own hands and seeing something even half as lovely, and for an instant can actually feel the bracelet resting on your wrist.
In a natural move, your eyes leave her hands in an effort to make eye contact with their owner. Along the way you pass a dizzying array of feminine attributes. Her dress, its sleeves buttoned at her wrists, is a simple yellow cotton and you follow its line up her slender arms to her neck. The dress is also buttoned there, lending a formality to her look that does nothing to reduce the sensuality of the garment itself. Her breasts, though not accented by the cut of the dress, are beautiful in their mere presence. She must get great pleasure, you think, from looking down and seeing them there. You know that you would.
As you continue toward her eyes, you notice a breathtaking surprise in that her lips are exactly the same color as her nails. Perhaps the cosmetics were part of a matching set. Or did she take the time to match them? In either case, you know what a delight it would be to view yourself in a mirror with matching lips and nails. You would stare at yourself for hours to make sure the shade was exactly right before letting any of the outside world see you. And you wouldn't buy the matching set. You would try as many different shades as it took to find the exact match. Even if the process took weeks, you would love every minute of it, wouldn't you?
Still, in that instant, you realize the horrible truth: what is a reality for her is at this moment only a fantasy for you. The Instinct has told you what she needs you to do, but right now you are unable to indulge her. She teases you and makes her demands. She distracts you constantly lest you forget that she is there. She knows that only through indulging her will you ever be truly whole. And so do you.
After an eternity of fantasy packed into a single moment, you finally reach her eyes. Her face is beautiful, but not because it conforms to some abstract standard of typical beauty. She is beautiful because she is She. Though her features are unspectacular, they are marvelous. Her eyes are gentle, ringed with delicate and untouched lashes, capped by a slender arched brow. The line of her nose perfectly compliments the sensual roundness of her cheeks. Her lips are the essence of femininity. Even in its plainness, you long for a face with such shape and perfectly gentle structure. You would spend hours pampering it and experimenting to find exactly the right combination of colors to bring out its best features. But it is within her eyes that you see the most alluring feature. She, by virtue of being female, possesses a tranquillity that you crave. She is at peace with her body, her mind, her emotions. In her eyes is the very definition of harmony, the perfect balance of emotion and intellect, a magical quality that transcends physical characteristics. And you know for certain that it is this magic that fuels The Instinct.
What is it The Instinct causes you to actually crave? Is it the caress of the clothing? Is it the attention to self and the pleasures of self-love? Is it the mystery of being female? Is it the connection between intellect and emotion?
Of course, it is all of this and much, much more. Through the touch of the clothing, through its unique sensuality, The Instinct is drawn out, made into flesh. She is able to see the light of day and explore a fundamental mystery of male life: the female. You know already that The Instinct will not go unheeded. She will nag at you until you can do nothing but give in. Do not dare try to ignore her or she will make your life miserable.
Thus, she is to be indulged at every opportunity. She will be a part of your life forever, and for that you should not curse but give thanks. You have been given a truly rare gift, one that can bring you more pleasure than you have ever imagined. You must remember, She is You.
Will you join me on my journey? The map has been drawn, and the itinerary set. We are about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime, indulging our fantasies and exploring our own sensualities. There is no time to waste in trying to suppress The Instinct. I know that you feel it as strongly as I do. And the caress of feminine clothing on your skin is only the beginning. Though the narrative is done for today, it is far too early to transform again. Look at the clock and pledge that for the next hour you will remain in the feminine clothing I trust you have worn throughout this piece. After that hour has passed, undress slowly and think of me as you remove each piece. I'll be thinking of you . . .
Back to Transgender Forum's home page