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Marcie's Story by Marci Manseau Chapter One - How it All Began Growing up on a farm in a remote area of Montana was a wonderful way for me to begin my life. The four of us, my parents, my twin sister Mary and I (Marty) were happy, but I'll admit our life did have some drawbacks. Mary and I never had any friends to play with as our nearest neighbors lived more than ten miles away and they had no children anyway. We shared a room and bed in our small house as well as all our toys. Early on, we learned to get along very well and to entertain ourselves. As early as I can remember, Mary seemed to think it was great fun to dress me up in her clothes. I don't think I ever objected to wearing them and, in time, I became much more comfortable wearing a dress or a skirt and blouse than pants. My parents thought it was cute and never asked me change back into my own clothes unless we had company or were going into town shopping. My mother even went as far as to buy Mary and me matching outfits on many occasions. Dad began calling us his two little princesses, a name I dearly loved. We'd hold pretend fashion shows for our parents almost weekly, getting very dressed up in either Mary's party clothes or some of my mother's things. We loved making believe we were fashion models. Eventually, I became enthralled not just by pretty dresses and lingerie, but by anything and everything that had to do with women or girls. Having no other boys to play with, or even from whom to learn about the things most boys liked to do at my age, I naturally became accustomed to playing with dolls and having tea parties with my sister. One of our favorite things to do was to dress up in some of my mother's clothing and pretend we were entertaining the kings and queens of our make-believe realm. We spent hours carrying on conversations with our imaginary guests and serving them gallons of tea from our little blue and white tea set. Many evenings our parents would return from working on the farm and would good-naturedly allow themselves to be cajoled into joining us for a spot of tea just before dinner. I can still remember the first time Mary dressed me up. She had decided it would be fun for us to have one of our almost daily parties, so we went to my parent's room to rummage through their closet for suitable clothes. As she was the more imaginative one, she usually took charge of what activities we'd engage in. We'd worn our parents clothes many times before but I'd always worn something of my father's in the past. "I think we should both wear dresses today," she said. "Daddy's suits are too big on you. They always look silly." As I was always tripping when I wore one of his oversized suits, Mary's idea made sense to me. "Okay," I replied, "but I don't even know how to put a dress on. You'll have to show me." "Let's get undressed first. I'll pick out a dress for each of us, then I'll help you put yours on." With our usual childlike innocence, we unashamedly stripped down to our underwear, thinking nothing of being semi-naked or even naked in front of each other, Mary in her slip and panties, me in stripped boxers. As soon as my pants hit the floor, Mary looked over at me and giggled, "You can't wear those funny old underpants under one of Mom's dresses, Marty. You'll have to wear one of my slips and a pair of my panties. Come on, I'll pick out something pretty for you." I followed her into our bedroom and obediently dropped my shorts when she told me to. Somewhat reluctantly, I put on the lacy pink nylon panties and matching slip she had unearthed for me from her dresser drawer. "Now, that looks much better," Mary said after adjusting the straps of the slip to fit me. "You look cute. Don't you think these things look nicer on you than those old cotton undies?" "I guess so, and they feel nicer too," I admitted, "but I feel kind of silly. Are you sure I look all right?" "Sure, you look fine. I just told you that," she said brusquely, slightly irritated that I'd even thought of doubting her word. We went back into our parent's room and began trying on different dresses. Mary immediately chose one for herself and put it on, then had me try on at least four before she decided on the best one for me. "Oh, this is the nicest one," she said as she zipped up the back for me. "You're so cute! Go look at yourself in the mirror." I can still remember the dress of my mother's I was wearing that day. It was floral print made of a silky fabric with lots of ruffles along the neck and hemline. It fell well below my knees and still smelled wonderfully of my mother's perfume. I went to the mirror and twirled around, staring at my reflection from every possible angle. At first glance I loved the way I looked, and there was absolutely no question about it in my mind. I felt as if I had a cloud of scented flowers caressing my skin. I was so gorgeous! "Oh, Mary," I exclaimed, "it's so pretty! Lots nicer than dad's old suits!" "See, I told you you'd look cute," she said, obviously pleased to have been proven right. "Now all we need are some shoes and then we can put on some of mom's makeup. Let's pretend we're having a big dance at our castle today and everyone is invited, okay?" "Sure, and we can make everyone who comes bow to us," I answered as I put my small feet into a pair of my mother's high-heeled shoes. I quickly discovered walking in them was a lot harder than it looked, so all I could do was barely manage to shuffle over to my mother's makeup table where Mary was already painting her face. "I think we should try and look very grown up, don't you? If we're having a big party, then we should look our best." "I guess so," was the only response I could think of because I had become fascinated watching Mary putting on powder and lipstick as I stood beside her. "Okay, I'm done," she said. "Now it's your turn. Sit up here on the chair and I'll put this stuff on you. Make sure you hold still or it will be a horrible mess." Not a girl given to understatement, as you can easily see. Dutifully, I climbed up on the chair and watched as Mary painted my face, in no time making me look like what I'm sure would best be described now as a five year old prostitute. Not knowing any better at the time, I thought I looked quite lovely. "You look okay now," she said as she inspected her handy work, "but I'm going to have to do something with your hair if you really want to look like a girl. It's too long and straight." She went into our room and was back moments later with some pink ribbons. She brushed my hair back and gathered it into two pony tails, then tied each with a pink ribbon. When I glanced at myself in the makeup table mirror, I was very pleased to see I looked like a pretty girl, and I felt so grown up. "Wow, you made me look just like you," I exclaimed. "Won't Mom be mad if she finds out we're used her makeup?" "I don't think so," Mary said, "but, just in case, we'll wash it off before she comes in." We spent the rest of the day playing our girl's games and having fun running around the house. We even managed to do a few of our chores, changing back into our own clothes just before my parents were due to return. Without Mary realizing it, I purposely didn't put my own underwear back on, preferring instead to continue wearing her silky slip and panties. It wasn't until we were undressing for bed later that she discovered I still had them on. She had already put her nightgown on and was in bed waiting for me to get in. "Why are you still wearing my slip and panties?" she asked. "Did you forget to change back into your own this afternoon?" "No, I didn't forget," I admitted. "I just like they way these feel on me. You aren't mad at me, are you?" "Why would I be mad? After all, I'm the one who gave them to you to wear. How do they feel?" "Real soft and slippery, especially on my thing," I replied, pointing to my penis. I got into bed and pulled the covers up over me. Mary and I had seen each other in the nude almost daily since we were children, so naturally we had explored each other's private parts and knew them almost as well as our own. Many nights, lying cuddled together in bed, we'd investigate one another's bodies. She particularly liked to make me erect by using either her hand or by rubbing her pussy against me. My favorite thing was pull up her nightie and rub her between her legs through her panties until she was wet. She usually squirmed a lot when I did that, but not once did she ask me to stop. No one had ever told us we shouldn't touch each other, but for some reason we instinctively knew better than to allow our parents to catch us. "Let me see how it feels," she said, reaching under the covers and stroking my penis through two layers of soft pink nylon. I became erect immediately. "That's the fastest your thing has ever become hard. I guess it likes it when you wear my underwear too. It does feel nice when I touch it. If you want to, you can wear them all the time." "I don't think Mom would let me," I said. "We wouldn't have to tell her," Mary replied. "It could just be our secret, like when we used her makeup today." "Okay, but if there was twice as much of your underwear in the laundry and none of mine, she'd have to know what we were doing." "I didn't think about that. Maybe if you wore the slip and panties I had on the day before and put a clean pair of your underpants in the wash every day, she'd never know anything. If you wouldn't mind wearing underwear I'd already worn, I think that would work." "I guess it would," I agreed. "Okay, we'll try it for a while and see if we can fool her." "You forgot to put your pajamas on too. Would you like to wear one of my nighties? I bet that would feel even better. You might be cold if you don't." "Okay. Can I wear the yellow one with all the lace on it?" I asked. "I think it's the prettiest one of all." "Sure. It's in the middle drawer. Go try it on and see if you like it." Naturally, I hurried out of bed and quickly put on the pretty gown, then went over to the mirror to see what I looked like in it. It was knee length, made with two layers on nylon, the top one sheer with lace and pink flowers along the neckline and hem, the bottom a plain silky soft material. I loved the way it caressed my legs as I walked. It fit me perfectly and was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. "You look so pretty in it, Marty," Mary said. "I've always liked the way it looked on me and it really looks just as nice on you. I think you should wear a nightie all the time." "I'd like to," I admitted, never meaning anything more in my life. Wearing that lovely gown made me feel more than content. The first moment I saw my reflection in the mirror, I knew I was meant to wear pretty things like that gown always. "I wonder why they don't make things like this for boys? It isn't fair that only girls get to have them." "I don't know why either, but I think it might be because most boys wouldn't want to wear one." "Well, they're jerks if they don't," I said as I turned off the light. When I got back in bed, Mary and I played with each other for quite a while. We both greatly enjoyed the sensation of the slippery fabric on our bodies. Later, when we dropped off to sleep, I blissfully dreamed that I had been born a girl. The next morning, as soon as we woke up, we played around a little bit more. I rubbed Mary's pussy lips until her juices covered my finger. That morning, for the first time, I slipped my finger inside her panties and inserted it part way into her juicy slit. At first, she seemed hesitant for me to continue but, after several minutes, she relaxed and seemed to really enjoy the feeling. Later, while we were getting dressed, I reminded Mary about my wearing her slip and panties, so she took off the pair she had on and gave them to me. As I stepped into them, I caught a whiff of her girl's scent and got very excited, happily envisioning my privates smelling just like a girl's all day. When I felt the moist crotch encase my balls, my cock immediately stiffened and I slipped my hand down around it. I fantasized that I had a pussy and that sweet aroma was flowing from me. I think the previous day was one of the happiest of my life. From that day on, whenever we played our pretend games, I insisted on having Mary dress me in some elegant outfit of my mothers and paint my face. She always willingly assisted me, saying I was so much cuter as a girl and much more fun to play with. To this day, Mary insists I was the one that chose to call myself Marcie instead of my given name Marty. I swear she began calling me by a girl's name during one of our tea parties, but I guess the truth is neither one of us really remembers for sure. Anyway, that's the name I use for myself today. I'm always Marcie, never Marty. By our fifth summer, I was quite comfortable in girl's clothes and had even begun to think of myself as a girl, Mary's sister, rather than her brother. By the end of the summer, my mother had slipped into the habit of calling me Marcie too, picking it up from hearing Mary use that name for me all the time. She even took Mary and me shopping, buying us both the same pretty underwear but different dresses. Sharing clothes wasn't fair to Mary or me, she explained. In the beginning, my father sometimes objected to my change of wardrobe, but my mother quickly calmed him down, explaining it was just a phase I was going through, one she was certain I would soon outgrow. Ever the practical woman, she also pointed out to my father that, if Mary and I wore the same clothes, it would save them money as they wouldn't need to spend precious dollars buying me new clothes several times a year. Finally my father gave in, although it did take him quite a while before he became accustomed seeing me in a party dresses and patent leather pumps. Mary still thinks of me as her sister and we're just as close today as we were as children. Instead of sharing a room as we did then, we now share an apartment in a large city on the west coast and live as any other two sisters might. We share all our expenses, swap clothes as we're the exact same size, and even our too infrequently done household tasks are split evenly. We've even traded a few men, of course one's we were no longer interested in. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me go back and tell you more about my evolution from boy to girl and how it felt to me. Chapter Two - Off to School! Our sixth birthday was in late August and Mary and I had each received lots of pretty things among our gifts, along with several dolls and other toys. Our favorite present was matching red dresses with white lace collars. The dresses were perfect for us as we had fair complexions and blonde hair. Mary and I put them on immediately and then went to show our parents how pretty we looked. "Oh, look at my two little princesses," daddy said. "You look like something out of a story book." "You do look nice," my mother added, smiling at us. "I knew those dresses would please you. I had one just like it when I was a little girl and my mother says I used to wear it almost every day." "Can I wear it when we start school next week, Mommy?" Mary asked. "Of course you can dear. Just be careful not to get it dirty." "I'll wear mine, too," I said, just as excited as Mary was about starting school. I felt so grown up! "Marcie," my mother said, looking very concerned, "you know you can't wear a dress to school. You've had fun pretending you're a girl for a long time now, but when you start school you're going to have to wear pants just like all the other boys." I was crushed, having never imagined I'd have to go back to wearing male clothes again. With tears streaming down my face, I ran over to my mother. "Why do I have to? I hate those boy's things. You can't make me," I shouted. "If you try, I'll never go to school!" My mother took me in her arms and tried to comfort me, but I just wouldn't calm down. "We'll talk about it later after your father and I have had a chance to discuss it. You two go and play. We're going to have dinner in a few minutes and then your birthday cake. You do want cake, don't you?" "I don't care about the dumb cake," I sobbed, still very upset and angry. I ran out of the kitchen and went up to my room. I stayed there all night, never even bothering to eat any of my cake. The next day my mother tried to get me to change into pants and go shopping with her for school clothes. When I realized she intended to buy me boy's clothes, I broke out in tears again and barricaded myself in my bedroom, refusing to come out until they had left. My parents tried for the rest of the week to change my mind but weren't the least bit successful. They offered me presents, threatened me with beatings and even tried to get Mary to make me see reason, but I stubbornly refused to budge an inch. Finally, on the morning school was to begin, my mother and father grudgingly gave in, but I could tell they were still extremely unhappy with me. "We can't let you stay home from school, Marcie," my mother told me, "so we've decided to let you go in a dress, but we want you to know that you're going to be punished every day you insist on wearing girl's clothes to school. There will be no television, no desserts and no playing outside. You're going to have to stay in the house and we intend to make sure you stay very busy. Your father and I are going to give you lots of jobs to do and then make sure you do them. Do you understand me?" Naturally, I was overjoyed to be able to go to school with Mary, but I didn't like all the punishments I was sure they'd enforce on me although I realized I had no choice. "Yes, I understand. I'm sorry I made you mad, Mommy, but I hate looking like a boy. I don't do it just to make you mad." "I know you don't, honey, but it makes it very difficult for all of us when you get so stubborn. You understand, of course, that you won't be able to call yourself Marcie at school, don't you?" I hadn't thought of that, but as long as I could go there looking like I wanted to, it didn't really matter. "I know. It's okay." "Last month, before you made all this fuss, I signed you up in school under your real name. Fortunately for you, Marty can be either a boy's or a girl's name, otherwise you would have had to attend school as a boy. I called your school this morning and told them I'd made a mistake when I'd enrolled you as a boy, so now they're expecting you there as a girl. I hope you realize this means that even if you eventually change your mind and want to go as a boy, it will be almost impossible. The teachers and other children there would be very upset." "I won't change my mind," I replied, knowing in my heart that being a girl was how I was truly meant to be. "I promise, Mommy." "All right, dear, now go and get ready. I'll drive you and Mary to school this morning and make sure you find your classroom." I ran upstairs, dying to tell Mary the good news. She was brushing her hair as I ran in. "Mary, mom and dad are going to let me go to school as a girl after all," I yelled, delighted at my victory. "Oh, Marcie, that's terrific," she said. "Now we can both wear our new red dresses. Are they still mad at you?" "Yes, and I'm not allowed to watch television or play outside. I'm going to have lots of extra chores to do too." "Don't worry, Marcie. I'll help you. I'm so glad you're going with me to school. I would have been scared to go alone." "You won't have to be now. I'll be there with you. Come on, let's hurry up and get dressed." I ran to our dresser and got out clean panties and slips for both of us. We put them on then helped each other into our dresses. We both had new Mary Jane's to wear along with white socks. After braiding one another's hair, we went downstairs to eat breakfast. "Well, you both look so pretty," my mother commented as we sat at the table. "You both have to look out for each other in school, you know. Mary, be sure you call Marcie Marty and, whatever you do, don't refer to him as your brother." "I know, Mom," Mary replied, "Marty, not Marcie, sister, not brother. I'll remember." Our first day at school was truly uneventful. Our rural school was very small, only ten students and all our classes were held in a small school house about twenty miles from our home. As Mary and I were in the same grade, we constituted the entire first grade. Our teacher, Tricia Jensen, was more like a friend to us than a teacher. She had just received her teaching certificate and we were her first students. Most days we were done with school by one o'clock and our mother would meet us up at the school bus stop in front of our farm. After giving us instructions about a few small chores she assigned us each day, she'd leave to help my father in the barn which was close by. After a few months, my parents relented and informed me that my punishment was over. I was once again allowed to play outside and watch television. I guess it was when we were in third grade that Mary began to call me Marcie again at school. I was very pleased because, although I didn't know why, I felt a more feminine name sounded more suitable for me. I'd even begun thinking of myself as Marcie and a girl. When I told Mary this, she'd looked at me a bit curiously, but didn't tease me or object. I think it was then she realized I wasn't just pretending to be a female as part of our playtime, that it had become far more than a game to me. Some of other children and a few of our teachers asked her about my "new" name. We just told them it was a nickname I'd been called for a long time. Eventually, everyone in school ended up calling me Marcie too. The fall term went by quickly and just before Christmas, we received our report cards. Both Mary and I had improved in all our classes. It was the best card ever for us. My mother and father were quite pleased and it seemed that my father finally resigned himself to me as Marcie. Although he was never as nice to me as my mother was about my becoming a girl, after that day I seldom felt any negative reactions from him. Much to my delight, he even started calling me Marcie. On Christmas morning when we opened our gifts, I was thrilled to have received several more dresses and pretty slips along with some new shoes. As Mary and I wore the same size, so we both watched as the other opened their gifts, knowing we'd soon be wearing each other's presents. The biggest surprise for us that year was new matching bicycles. We shrieked as Dad and Mom brought them in the back door. It was all they could do to stop us from going outside and riding them through the snow in near zero temperatures. Chapter Three - Finally a Teenager Both Mary and I finished seventh grade with high averages. Our teachers had taught us very well in the past three years and we had even gone past the required subjects, starting in on some of the subjects we'd be taking in high school. A few weeks after our summer break had begun, our family set off on our first real trip. For years, mom and dad had been talking about taking us to New York city and neither Mary or I could believe it was really happening. I can't recall either of us being more excited. We had spent the previous three days packing everything we thought we might conceivably need, ending up with two suitcases apiece. Mom had taken us into a nearby city to shop for things we didn't already have. Mary and I both bought several new outfits and some pretty new underwear. Mom and I had a little disagreement when I insisted on buying some bras because I knew Mary was picking out some for herself. "If you don't let me buy them," I protested, "you know I'll just wear Mary's and then she won't have enough for the trip." I could see she was softening, so I pressed on. "Please, Mom? I know I don't really need a bra, but I want one more than anything. You've always bought the same things for me that you got for Mary." "All right, Marcie, I guess you're entitled to buy some as well." Just then, the clerk walked over to us and asked if she could be of any assistance. "Having two teenaged daughters is a real cross to bear," my mother said good-naturedly. "Marcie has decided she needs some bras too. She wears the same size as my other daughter Mary. Would you please get us another of each one she's picked out?" "I'm sure I can find them for you," the clerk pleasantly replied. "Is there anything else your young ladies will need?" "I guess both of them should have six pairs of hose and panties, also a few slips. They can pick out those while you find the bras. Hurry up, girls," she admonished us. "We still have to stop at the shoe store and the pharmacy. You father is going to pass out when he sees how much money we've spent today." We quickly selected our hose and undies and, while mother was paying for our purchases, we walked across the street to get some ice cream. There were two empty seats at the end of the counter, so we sat there and ordered hot fudge sundaes, our all-time favorites. No sooner had our ice cream arrived, when Mary leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, "Don't look now, but those two cute boys sitting next to you are really staring at us." Of course I had to look! I surreptitiously turned my head and saw the hunk on the stool next to me smiling in my direction. Being completely flustered, I managed in less than a second to drop both my spoon and purse. My face turned beet red and I started to get off the stool to pick them up. "I'll get them," I heard the boy next to me say. We almost bumped heads as we both bent down. Fortunately, I pulled back just in time. He stood next to me and handed me back the purse and spoon. "Here you are," he said, smiling at me. "I think you'd better get another spoon. This one looks kind of dirty." This time I turned and looked right at him. He was absolutely gorgeous, over six feet tall with green eyes and reddish-brown hair and the build of someone used to hard work. "Thank you," I stammered. "I'm not usually this clumsy." "It's okay," he said pleasantly. "I always drop things too. My name's Jim. What's yours?" Finally remembering my manners, I smiled back at him, hoping he was just being polite. "I'm Marcie and this is my sister Mary," I said. "Thanks again." "Forget it. This zombie next to me is my best friend Jack," Jim replied. "The rumor is he likes girls too but he never seems to be able to talk to them." "Thanks a lot, pardner," Jack shot back, punching Jim on the shoulder as he spoke. Are you two from around here? I don't think I've seen you before and I'm sure I'd remembered if I had." "We live out in the country," Mary told him. "We only come in to town once a week or so to do some shopping or catch a movie." "Where do you go to school?" Jim asked me. "It's a small school out near where we live. Do you go here in town?" "Yup, we just finished our last year," Jim informed me. "This fall we're starting high school." "We have another year left before we do, but maybe then we'll be going to the same school," I said, fervently hoping it would be true. He was the first male I had ever been attracted to, although Mary and I had spent hours fantasizing about boys, especially some of the hunks we'd seen on television. Up until that day, neither of us had spent any time talking to boys one on one, except a few of the younger ones at school and, in our opinion, they really didn't count. We talked to the boys until our mother arrived fifteen minutes later. We left as soon as we'd paid for the sundaes, saying goodbye to Jim and Jack while waiting for our change. Mother seemed surprised when we told her we had just met them. Originally, she'd thought they were classmates of ours. Our next stop was the shoe store where we each bought several pairs of shoes including our first heels. They were only three inches high, but Mary and I felt quite grown up in them. Finally we concluded our shopping spree at the drugstore where we bought shampoo, hair spray and tons of other toiletries. When we arrived home, it took us three trips to carry in all our purchases. We modeled most of our new things for Daddy right after dinner. While Mary and I were doing the dishes, she pulled me aside and told me she had something she was dying to tell me. "When you went to pay the check at the ice cream shop, Jack asked me for our phone number and I gave it to him. I'll bet either he or Jim calls us very soon. I told him we'd be leaving on vacation in two days, so maybe they'll call before we go." I was totally amazed to hear that piece of news, as I'm sure Mary knew I would be. "Did Jim say he wanted to call me too?" I asked breathlessly, hoping she'd say yes. "I think he was going to ask you out but Mom showed up before he could. Maybe I'd better tell her what I did in case they call as she's mad I gave them our number." "I don't think she'll be mad, Mary. After all, you didn't do anything wrong. Boys are supposed to call girls." "I know that, Marcie, but I'm not sure how she's going to feel about you going out with a boy. I've known for a long time you like boys but I don't think Mom's aware of it." "Oh, I see what you mean. I never thought of it that way. Darn it, what am I going to do if she says I can't date boys? I'll just die!" "I can't imagine she'd expect you to date girls," Mary said after thinking about it for a while. "That would mean you'd have to become Marty again, and she knows how much you'd hate that." "I could never be a boy again," I gasped, horrified at the thought, "even if she and Dad threatened to throw me out of the house. I wouldn't even know how to act. Besides, I don't own any boys's clothes anymore, so how could she?" "I don't know, but you remember how angry they got when you refused to go to first grade as a boy, I'm sure. She was going to buy boy's clothes for you then." "Well, in that case I guess maybe you shouldn't tell her you gave them our number. If it going to cause a lot of trouble, it isn't worth it." Mary stopped and thought again, then looked at me, a sly smile appearing on her face. "All right, I won't say anything to her. If either one of the boys calls, I'll just say they must have looked us up in the phone book." "Right, and they probably won't call anyway," I said, praying I wasn't right. But I was right. By the time we left for New York, no boys had called for either Mary or me. The excitement of going away, especially as we were flying for the first time, made it somewhat easier to accept. A few days before it our trip was to have begun, Mom had called the neighbors and told them we'd be away for two weeks. As was usual for farmers, they had agreed to come and look after our stock while we were away. The magic day had finally arrived. Dad packed all our luggage in the trunk of the car while Mary and I ran around the house collecting last minute things we were sure we'd need in New York. When our neighbors arrived to say goodbye to us, Mom shooed us into the car and gave them some final instructions, then joined us a few minutes later. Dad drove us to the airport, more than two hours away, and dropped us and the luggage off at the door. Mom got a skycap to help us with the bags, then we went to the ticket counter to check in while Dad parked the car. A few minutes later, we were sitting at our gate waiting to board the airplane. Mary and I were extremely excited and simply couldn't stop jabbering away. Finally Dad gave us a sour look and we managed to be quiet for a few minutes. The agent announced it was time to board the plane, so Mary and I ran to be first in line. Mom and Dad were right behind us, explaining to the agent at the gate that this was our first time so he'd have to be a bit patient with us. He just smiled and wished us a good flight. Mary and I found seats near the front of the plane and our parents sat across the aisle from us. After a moment of arguing about which of us would get the window seat, my mother leaned over and quietly informed us that we would have to trade off half way through the flight, so that was the end of that. I let Mary take it first, later very glad that I did because that way I was the one who got to see all of New York spread out below us as we landed. We held hands as the plane taxied down the runway, each probably thinking we'd crash any second. When we were finally in the air and allowed to take off our seat belts, we both gave a sigh of relief. A few minutes later the stewardess came by to talk to us. "Hi, there. My name's Gwen. I understand this is the first time you girls have flown," she said. "I hope you like it as much as I do. It's the fastest and safest way to travel, so you don't have a thing to worry about." "Hi, Gwen," I replied, "and thanks, that makes me feel a lot better. I'm Marcie and this is my sister Mary. How many times have you been on one of these things?" "Oh, I've never counted it up, but it must be hundreds. I work on four different flights each week and I've been doing it for over three years now. It's a fun job and you get to meet lots of nice men. You two girls are pretty enough to be able to become stewardesses one day, that is if you'd like to." "I don't know if I could stand all the noise," Mary told her, referring to the din from the engines. "That makes me more nervous than flying does. How can you stand it all day?" "You get used to it," Gwen assured her. "I don't even notice it's there until I'm off the plane. Then everything sounds so quiet! Almost too quiet." We chatted with Gwen for the remainder of the flight when she wasn't busy. Just before landing, she came and took the seat in front of us. She pointed out all the sights to us as we circled the airport waiting to land. Neither Mary nor I could believe what we saw. First, some rural farm lands, then thousands of homes and buildings packed tightly together. It seemed unbelievable to us that so many people would want to live so close to one another. Definitely a vast difference from our home in Montana. Typical tourists, we were all been glued to the taxicab windows during the ride from the airport. An hour later we checked into the Plaza Hotel, one of the most beautiful buildings any of us have ever seen. Our room was a small suite with two bedrooms off a magnificently decorated sitting room. We hurriedly hung our clothes in the closet and then changed to slacks and flats to begin touring the "Big Apple". The first day's excursion was brief as we'd arrived in late afternoon, so we decided to take in only the Empire State Building, then try and find someplace for dinner. On the way there, we took dozens of photographs of anything we thought was interesting, then rode the elevator to the top. The view was awesome, making both Mary and I speechless for the first time since we'd left home. Back at the hotel an hour later, we changed for dinner while Mom and Dad tried to find a good place to eat. Mary and I selected our prettiest and most adult dresses, wanting to look special that night. We opted for black dresses with heels and pearls around our necks and in our ears. While our parents were deciding where to eat, we redid our own makeup and each other's nails. Finally, after reading several tourist information books and calling the desk for advice, we ended up eating in the main dining room of our hotel. The food and service were magnificent. Mom and Dad, tired from the trip, went back to our room after dinner, but they allowed us to walk around the hotel lobby. We looked in all the shop windows in the hotel's arcade, pretending to buy tons of sophisticated new things. We fell asleep early that night, both tired from travelling and touring, and wanting to get an early start in the morning. Mom had informed us that we were going shopping, and both Mary and I knew she'd run our legs off before the day was done. Dad wasn't going with us and had decided to try finding his way around the subway system so he'd know what to do when all four of us used it the next day. Mom, Mary and I spent most of the morning walking through the stores on Fifth Avenue, trying on a few things but not really buying anything. The prices and the awesome array of clothes was just too much for us, I suppose. It wasn't until we stepped inside Bloomingdale's that the shopping spirit took hold of us. We practically wore Mom's Visa card out in two hours of unbridled buying. After arranging to have our packages delivered to our hotel, we walked back inorder to enjoy the beautiful summer day and gawk at the thousands of people who always seemed to be crowding every sidewalk. We saw a true mixture of mankind, members of every race, a rainbow of skin tones. After a brief rest in our room, we had lunch at the elegant Palm Court restaurant, just off the lobby of our hotel. We had indecently large chef's salads and iced tea, a perfect summer luncheon. Mom was too tired to continue shopping, so we all went back to our rooms to rest until dinner. Dad was already back and asleep, so Mary and I went into our room and decided to bathe before lying down. She was going to be first, so I lay on the bed and watched her undress. "I hope I can have boobs like yours someday," I said as she slipped out of her bra. Ever since Mary had gone through puberty and begun to develop a bust, I had carefully watched her breasts enlarge, never tiring of looking at them when she dressed or fondling them at night as we cuddled together. She was, by then, almost a full B cup and I was terribly envious of every aspect of her newly emerging womanhood. I'd even taken to wearing sanitary napkins when she began to menstruate, just so I'd be more like her. She walked over to the bed clad only in her bikini panties, smiling at me as she cupped her breasts. "Why don't you take a bath with me? The tub is big enough for both of us. You could wash them for me. You know I like that." Clearly she wanted to play around, and I was definitely in the mood after ogling all the hunks we'd seen earlier. "Okay. Why don't you lock our door so Mom and Dad won't surprise us while I get undressed. I'll only be a second." I jumped up and quickly took off my blouse and slacks, then peeled off my pantyhose. Carefully, I removed my bra so I wouldn't drop the foam rubber breast pads that filled it out. Mary, back from locking the door, had gone into the bathroom. I followed her in as soon as I'd hung up my clothes. She put her arms around my neck and kissed me as we waited for the tub to fill up with hot water and the bubble bath provided by the hotel. Our bare chests pressed against one another as we rubbed our panty covered genitals together. "When we get out of the tub, can I lick you between your legs?" I asked Mary. Two years earlier, our sex lives had been greatly expanded when we found a marriage manual in our parents closet, hidden inside a suitcase. We had discovered intercourse and all the other wonderful things no one had really explained to us. Mom had given us the usual talk about sex just after our tenth birthday, but naturally hadn't told us anything about fellatio or cunnilingus. Oral sex had become our main form of sex play from the first day we tried it. "Sure, as long as I can do you too," she replied, smiling. In the year or so before, I had become increasingly unwilling to have anything to do with my male organs. It hadn't seemed right to me for a girl to have something so unfeminine between her legs. Consequently, I had attempted to completely ignore my maleness. It was only after a lot of coaxing me that I'd let Mary touch me there. By then, I was able to ejaculate and, while I admit I enjoyed it, I was troubled because it seemed to epitomize everything about my remaining maleness which I truly hated. "I guess so. If you want to, you can. I really don't care either way", I said very honestly. "I know how you feel, Marcie, but I like kissing you down there as much as you like licking me, so it's only fair." The tub was full by then, so we took off our panties and got into the hot, scented water. As usual, Mary began our play, having become much more sexually aggressive since passing through puberty. She took the soap and washed me all over, spending more than enough time on my penis to make me hard. "I don't know why you don't like your thing anymore, Marcie," she said. "Just look at how pretty it looks with it's head peeking out from the bubbles. Just like a little fish." "A pussy is much nicer," I immediately replied. "You know I'd much rather have a slit like you've got. Can I wash you now?" "Sure, but I want to keep playing with you while you do so you don't get soft." I liberally soaped up my hands and spent a long time washing her breasts, then reached under the water and found the delicate pink lips of her vagina. Gently, I outlined them with just the tip of my finger until she began to moan. "Put it in me a little bit," she asked. "It feels so nice inside me." She parted her thighs and I slid my finger into her. Leaning towards her, I kissed her then moved lowered until I had captured her nipple in my mouth. "Oh, Marcie, that feels so nice!" she said between moans. "I love you. Please, just keep doing it for a while longer." Of course I complied, liking nothing better then touching her body and arousing her. Minutes later, she climaxed and then I held her until it was time for us to get out of the tub. "Now it's my turn, sis," she said as we towelled off. "I want your thing in my mouth." We went into the bedroom and got into bed. As I lay on my side, Mary dove under the covers and immediately slipped my soft cock into her mouth. In no time, I was hard again and she began sucking me. I wrapped my arms around her hips and pulled her pussy tightly against my face. She raised her top leg and captured my head between her thighs. My tongue delved deeply into her sweetness at the exact moment my cock spurted into her mouth. She milked me, sucking every last drop of milk from my balls. Wanting to please her, I pumped my tongue in and out of her until I felt her begin to squirm, a sign I had learned meant she was very excited. My tongue found her delicate clittie and I gently encased it with my lips. Moments later her second orgasm swept over her body while her thighs held me captive between them until I felt her whole body relax. I waited a few minutes, thoroughly enjoying being so close to Mary's private parts. I had always loved looking at her pussy and exploring it, both envious and adoring the ultimate manifestation of her femininity. I wondered almost daily why had I been so cursed as to not have been born with something so lovely and perfect. I hated being male and would have done anything to become a woman. Again I started to tease her pouting pussy lips with my tongue only to feel her roll away from me. "I love the way you lick me, Marcie," Mary said, "but I can only take so much at one time. Do you want me to do you again?" "No," I replied, sad to have to stop kissing her lower lips, "I guess I've had enough too. Let's rest a while before dinner." We slept until Mom came in and woke us up an hour or so later. Luckily we had put on our nighties and slipped under the covers before napping, so she didn't suspect a thing. The rest of our vacation was like something from a movie. We went to all the usual tourist sights, shopped some more and ate in nice restaurants every day. Although all four of us had enjoyed our stay, by the time we returned home, we were more than ready for a return to our daily routine. Chapter Four - My Father's Wrath A few days after we returned from New York city, Mary and I had a wonderful thing happen. Jack and Jim called us one afternoon while we were sitting around the house trying on the things we had bought in New York. As soon as Mary answered the phone, I knew who was calling. I could tell from the look on her face. We took turns talking to them and, just before they hung up, they asked us to go to a movie with them that Saturday night. Of course we both said yes, but explained we'd have to ask our parents first. They agreed to call us back the next day to find out if we would be able to go. "Oh, Mary," I excitedly said as soon as she hung up, "do you think Mom and Dad will let us go?" "I hope so, but I don't know for sure. Mom has always said she thought we'd should wait until we were in high school before we begin dating, but maybe she'll let us." "Let's ask her as soon as she gets home. Meanwhile, let's clean up the house and finish the laundry. If we make her think we've been working hard all day, she might just say yes." Mom had assigned us the task of doing all the laundry a year ago, and it was something we hated doing. This time it was worse than ever as we'd brought tons of soiled clothes back from our vacation. "That's a good idea," she said, "and try and think of something special we can make for dinner, too." We raced off and spent the rest of the afternoon working our tails off. When Mom and Dad came in the house, most everything had been completed. All the clothes were clean, the house spotless and a meat loaf in the oven. "You two have been really busy," Mom said. "What's the reason for all this wonderful behavior?" Trying to sound sincere, I smiled at her and said, "Oh, nothing special. We just wanted to let you know how much we loved you and Dad." "And I'm the queen of England," she teasingly replied. "Thank you for being such loving young ladies, but I still want to know what's going on here." Mary looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess we have to tell her, Marcie. Mom, would you please sit down? We have something to ask you." "Okay," Mom said, "but I think your father should hear this too." Neither Mary or I were terribly fond of that idea, but we knew it was to protest. Mom called Dad and all four of us sat at the kitchen table. Mary told them how we had met Jack and Jim just before leaving on our trip, tactfully forgetting to mention we had given them our phone number. I took over then and explained the boys had called earlier and asked us to go to a movie on Saturday. Mom wanted to know all about them, who they were, where they went to school and how old they were but Dad just sat there, not saying a word until she was finished. "Just a minute," he said very sharply. "I've put up with all Marcie's foolishness for a long time and I haven't said a word. Now I'm going to put my foot down." All of us became quiet instantly, knowing when he spoke like this, he was upset and not to be trifled with. "Marcie," he continued, looking directly at me, "you may like to dress up and act like a girl, but nothing you do can actually change the fact that you're a boy. No son of mine is going to date another boy and that's final." We were all shocked and very crestfallen. I started to object and so did Mary, but he silenced us immediately. "If I hear another word about this from anyone," his face completely red as he ordered, "Marcie is going to go back to being a boy and looking like one. That's all I'm going to say." Mom, Mary and I sat there in shock, completely disconcerted and speechless. "Ruth," he said to my mother, "I want to talk to you alone. You two go up to your room and stay there until I call you." Looking at Mom for some kind of support but receiving none, Mary and I got up and ran up to our room. I closed the door and we both just stared at one another, not knowing what to say or think. An hour later, my father called us down to the kitchen. He told Mary and I to sit at the table. I could tell from the look on my mother's face that things had not gone well for me. "I've decided," he said, "that it's time to do something about your problem, Marcie. I know you don't think of yourself as having a problem, but we do. It's not normal for a boy, especially one your age, to want to be a girl. I'm going to find a doctor who specializes in this sort of thing and see what he can do for you." I was astonished, never realizing how upset my behavior had made my father. Until that time, I was under the impression that he had accepted me as Marcie, his other daughter. "Dad, please don't make me do this," I begged. "I'm not sick or crazy. I just like being a girl, that's all." "Well, I know you're not sick or crazy, Marcie, but I do think it's about time we sought some professional help to get you back on the right track. I could put up with you wearing girl's clothes, but when you think it's all right for you to be dating boys, then you need to get some counseling." "Mom, tell him I don't need any help," I pleaded. "I just want to be me. I couldn't stand being a boy again and you know it." She reached over and took my hand in hers, trying to comfort me. "I tried to tell your father you'd never willingly be a boy again," she replied, "but it's no use attempting to change his mind. Besides, I don't think it would be so terrible for you to talk to someone, Marcie. If you did, I think you'd feel much better about yourself afterwards, no matter what you decide to do with your life." "There's no use in discussing it further," my father said. "I'm calling our doctor today and see if he can't recommend someone. If he does, then you're going to start some sort of treatment, Marcie. That's all there's to it. Do you understand me?" "Yes, Dad," I said, hating the idea but knowing I had no choice. That evening, my mother asked me to go for a walk with her because she wanted us to talk without anyone hearing us. As we left the house and walked down the hill in front of our house, she put her arm around me and pulled me close to her. "Your father has made an appointment for you to see a doctor in Butte next week. He's specializes in treating people with gender identification disorders. That's what our doctor told Dad your problem was when he talked to him earlier. We're going to have to go and see this man. Your father insists on it and, although I tried to make him see there was nothing to worry about, he's stubborn and won't budge." "I know, Mom," I replied. "I'll go because I have to, but it's totally useless for anyone to think they can make me like being a boy." "This doctor may not be as bad as you think, Marcie. When your father told me about the appointment, I called the doctor's office in Butte and had a long talk with him. He explained to me how people like you feel. From the way he talked, the object of this treatment isn't to necessarily make you be a boy again. It's to help you decide what's best for you and then to help you adjust to whatever that may be. He even said it's fine for you to wear you usual clothes when you see him. Your father wanted me to go out and buy you a suit, but after I told him what the doctor said, he relented. I also explained to him that I doubted that you'd go if you had to wear a suit." "But Mom, I'm happy the way I am. You know that. Why do we have to go through all this trouble just to find out what we already know?" "I won't be all that much trouble," she replied. "Beside, it might be fun for you and me to go shopping after you appointment. You know how much you liked that in New York. Butte's a large city too. I'd be willing to bet we could spend a few hours buying you and Mary some fall clothes for school." "Okay, I'll go, and thanks for sticking up for me with Dad. I know you don't like to argue with him. I appreciate it a lot. What should I wear?" "I guess something conservative would be best, especially for your first visit. What about that print dress you bought last week at Bloomingdale's? That looks so pretty on you." "That's one of my favorites," I said, smiling at last. It made me feel very relieved to know my mother still thought of me as Marcie and would stick up for me, no matter what." "I just have one more question, Mom. After all this stuff is over, if I still want to be a girl, will it be all right with Dad?" "I can't honestly answer that, Marcie. I don't think he'll ever be comfortable about you dating boys, that is if you decide you want to. He has never been complacent about homosexuality. That's what he considers it, you know. He's resented the few he's met. You're going to have an uphill battle, if that's the case." "I want to go out with boys and I realize he won't change his mind," I admitted, "so maybe I just won't date until I'm off on my own." "I'll try and work on him in the meantime, but it just may come to that. You know he loves you, don't you?" "I know, Mom, but that doesn't make it any easier. I just want to be me and left alone." We came back to the house soon afterwards, and I went upstairs to tell Mary what was happening. Dad had already had a talk with her so she already knew I was going to get counseling. We spent the rest of the evening talking about what might become of me. Chapter Five - Discovery! A week later, my mother drove me into see the doctor. I had been very nervous about being forced to talk to someone about something I believed was very private, something I felt so deeply about but had no real grasp on why I wanted so badly to be a woman. Mary and I had talked about my passion for becoming a woman many times, but unfortunately neither of us could make any sense of it. My mother had helped me to get dressed early on the morning of my appointment because we had a long dive ahead of us. I wore my new peach and green print dress as she had suggested earlier and, although I loved the way I looked in it, it wasn't enough to make me happy that day. We also decided I should wear pantyhose and heels as we planned to go to lunch and then shopping afterwards. Butte was, to us a that time, a large city and we felt as if we had to look our best. We pulled into the parking lot of the medical center with ten minutes to spare. I checked my face for the umpteenth time before we got out of the car. The directory on the front of the building pointed us to the third floor. As we entered the doctor's office, I felt like an animal about to be caged and paraded before a jeering crowd of circus fanatics. My mother gave my name to the receptionist and a few minutes later we were called into the doctor's private office. Much to my surprise, he got up and smiled at us. He seemed to be very young, late twenties would have been my guess, and very well dressed. His brown hair and beard matched his eyes perfectly and his slender build gave him the appearance of an athlete. "Hello, Mrs. Foster. Hello, Marcie. I'm Dr. Gallagher," he said, extending his hand to us. He directed us to the couch and asked us to make ourselves comfortable. He made a few notes on a pad, then turned to me. "I have a brief idea of why you came to see me, Marcie, but I'd like you to tell me what you think I can do for you." "I don't have any idea of what you can do for me," I replied very honestly. "The only reason I'm here is because my father insisted I see you." He jotted down a few more notes and then asked, "Do you know why your father felt it was necessary for you to come here today?" "I guess it's because he thinks I shouldn't dress up like a girl anymore. He got very upset when he found out I was interested in dating boys," I blushingly admitted. "My sister Mary and I met two boys a few weeks ago and when they called and asked us out, my father kind of blew his stack." "How do you feel about that, Mrs. Foster?" he asked. "Are you and your husband in agreement about Marcie being a girl and dating boys?" "I don't mind if Marcie dresses up like a girl," she responded after thinking a few seconds. "She's been wearing girl's things since she was three and it seems almost natural to me now." "So you're comfortable with her choice of clothing then. Are you upset to hear she may not be inclined to date girls?" the doctor inquired. "When I first discovered she wanted to date boys, I admit I had some reservations about it, but then I realized she couldn't very well date girls looking the way she does. I doubt she'd ever go back to wearing boy's clothing even if we tried to force her, so I decided it would be all right with me if she wanted to go out with boys. I'm not terribly happy about it, but I can't think of any alternative." "Fine," Dr. Gallagher said, smiling at me again. "I think Marcie and I should spend the rest of the hour talking alone. Would you mind waiting for us in the reception room?" Mom patted my on the hand and then left us. Suddenly I felt a lot better about being there. I realized then I'd been apprehensive about discussing my feelings in front of my mother. "Have you ever talked to anyone outside your family about yourself, Marcie?" the doctor asked as my mother closed the door. "No, only my sister and my mother. They seem to understand me more than my father does, although he hasn't objected to me being a girl for a long time." "I think it must be harder for a father to accept the fact that his son doesn't want to be like him," he said, his tone very soft and understanding. "Do you think of yourself as a girl now?" "I guess I've always thought of myself as a girl. I can't remember ever wanting to be a boy or to grow up to be a man." "All right, now I think I'm beginning to understand," he replied. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me, Marcie?" "There's a lot of things I'd like to know about. First, am I the only one who feels like this?" "No, there's a lot of people who discover at some point in their lives that they are unhappy with their gender. Some of them can adjust to this contradiction and go on with their lives. Others spend some or all of their time dressed as the gender they'd like to be, and a few even have surgery performed to change them into the person they feel they must be." I was astonished to find out it was possible for a man to have an operation and become a woman! I knew at that very moment what was to become of me. "Do you mean you could make me into a woman, Dr. Gallagher?" I asked enthusiastically. My eagerness made him chuckle. "Hold on a minute, Marcie. That's a big step for anyone to undertake. That only happens after someone spends years talking to a doctor. They have to be on hormones for all of that time and they have to live and work in the new gender. And, besides, I'm not the one who performs that surgery. I'm a psychiatrist, not a surgeon, but I do know several people who specialize in gender reassignment surgery." Again, I blushed and it took me a few minutes before I was able to talk. "I've never even heard of that operation, doctor. What would I have to do to get one?" "Well, it's just as I said. If, after several years of consulting with me or a doctor like me, all indications are that you are a true transsexual, then it might be possible for you to undergo that procedure." "Excuse me Dr. Gallagher, but what is a transsexual? That's something else I've never heard of." "Simply put Marcie, that's a medical term which means someone who wants to be changed into the sex they weren't born as. A man would become a woman or a woman would become a man." "I think that's what I am, doctor. I've never wanted to be a man. I know in my heart I should have been born a girl, just like my sister Mary. I can't even imagine what it's like to be a man." "You may be right, Marcie, but we won't know that for a long time. You're going to have to come and talk to me once a week for at least a year before we can even think about putting a name on your condition. In the mean time, I'm going to give you some things to read. I think they'll help you to better describe how you feel." In less than an hour, I'd gone from dreading meeting with this man to wanting nothing more than to see him every week. "I want to keep seeing you, doctor. Can we make another appointment before we leave today?" "I want to talk to your mother first. Then we'll determine if we should continue getting together. I think we're done for now. Would you ask her to come in please?" "Yes, and thank you. I feel better about myself already. Just knowing what I am and that there are others like me is wonderful. Will you be sure to tell my mother about that operation?" "I will," he said as he walked me to the door. "I'm happy you're feeling better. I hope I'll see you again next week." My mother spent about fifteen minutes with Dr. Gallagher while I waited in the outer office and talked to the receptionist. As we walked back to our car, she handed me some pamphlets. "The doctor wants us to read these, Marcie. He's says they'll explain all about the different things that might be affecting you. Are you glad we came now?" "Very glad, Mom. I thought I was the only person like me in the world until today. The doctor says there are lots of men that want to be women and even some women who want to be men. Did he tell you I might be able to have an operation to make me a girl?" "He mentioned things like that are possible but he didn't say he thought you should have one. Don't get your hopes up, Marcie. That might not even be the right thing for you to do." "Oh, I'm sure it is, Mom!" I cried. "I just know it! As soon as he explained that operation to me, I knew I wanted one." "Well, we'll have to see about that. Let's not talk about that to your father right away. I don't think he'd even want to hear about you becoming a woman. Now I think we should go and have lunch, then we'll find a mall and see how much money we can spend." Of course, I readily agreed, especially to going shopping. There was nothing I loved to do more than shop for clothes and my mother knew it. We had a quick bite at the lunch counter in a department store, then spent the remainder of the afternoon browsing through the nearby mall. Before the afternoon was over, I had convinced Mom that it was important for me to continue seeing Dr. Gallagher. I knew if she agreed, she'd be able to make Dad see the necessity of it as well. Chapter Six - On My Way! For the remainder of the fall and winter, Mom and I made our weekly trips into Butte to see my psychiatrist, Dr. Gallagher. Sometimes Mary came with us and then we'd make the trip into some kind of special event, going shopping or to an art gallery. Just after Mary and I had completed eighth grade, I was overjoyed when Dr. Gallagher told me I could start hormone therapy. He had finally determined what I'd known all along. I was a transsexual and, pending my parents approval, I could begin taking female hormones to make my body more like that of other girls my age. Mom was used to the idea by then and signed the consent form for me that same day. On the way back home, we stopped at a drug store and filled the prescription for Premarin and Provera. When the druggist handed us the pill bottles, I went right to the soda fountain and got a glass of water. With Mom by my side, I swallowed the first of my many dosages of the white and purple pills. It's a routine I continue to this day. Mom and I had an uphill battle with my father, trying to convince him that the doctor and I knew what we were doing. He made a special trip into Butte to see Dr. Gallagher and, when he returned home several hours later, he seemed resigned to my new status. Although my father and I were never as close from that day on, I still love him. Today, he's gotten to the point where he treats me just as he does Mary. Dr. Gallagher and I got along very well from the start. After two years of counseling sessions, it was almost as if we had become friends rather than patient and psychiatrist. He always had something nice to say to me during our weekly meetings. I was particularly flatter