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Gettysburg PA Penned by: Miss Deborah Leigh Johnson One Let me begin by stating that I know only too well this fact. That is that once I related the details of my experience to you, that most of you will undoubtedly recommend for my own safety and peace of mind, that I should take myself off to a rest home for the mentally impaired. I know this, even though most of you are not being professionals in the science of mind healing, Yet, I feel a strange compunction to relate the story to you. To start with, I am a man in my forties now. This story happened when I was twenty-two, and has had a life long impression upon my psyche since that time. It happened at Gettysburg PA. You see, I grew up in a small town in eastern Ontario, Canada. Now I have no idea of why, but ever since I first learned to read, I had developed a fascination with the history of the war between the states. Not only that, but the fascination that I developed was for the battle that was fought in the small hamlet of Gettysburg. Please do not ask me where this obsession came from, I just had it. My parents thought that it was cute. They indulged me in whatever way that I wanted. They had the opinion that it was better for me to be addicted to the battle that occurred at Gettysburg, than it was for me to become addicted to street drugs. In that, they were right. So I carried this love of this particular war with me all through my teen years. In fact, I did not even date. Girls just assumed that I was the geek that I looked like, and I had never had an interest in sports, so that left me very little social recourses out side of the History club at school. But I was blissfully happy. I really was. I was fortunate enough to have a very good mind too. It helped me to compensate for the areas in which I was lacking. I was able to move ahead in school, so that by the time that I was twenty-one, I had already graduated with a BA honours from our local university. I had gotten through school on scholarships and student loans, and I was also fortunate enough to always manage to get employment throughout the year as well. So, when I did graduate, I had very little actual student loan debt, and I did have a few bucks stashed away. It so happened that three months before I graduated, both of my parents were killed in a head on collision with a tractor trailer. The driver had been driving for too long, and had been keeping himself awake with uppers, and the influence of the uppers just gave out, at the wrong moment. I was devastated naturally, as my parents were my focus of my entire life. Knowing that they would be very disappointed in me if I did not persevere with school work, I buried my sorrow and grief and poured myself into the remaining few weeks of classes. By the time I graduated, the acceptance of their deaths had become kind of numbed to me, and I was more easily able to handle it. After numerous meetings with lawyers, with insurance agents and mutual fund brokers, I was able to say that the total estate after taxes amounted to a tidy sum of nearly $300,000. My parents had not owned a lot, but the mortgage on the house was insured, so the house was paid off. The pension plans had been invested wisely. The lawsuit from the trucking company, as well as the death benefits from my parent's no fault auto insurance also came in. I must say that the insurance company for the trucking company did not try to drag out the case. We made a request, they thought that it was pretty reasonable, and the paid. So, I was left with nothing to do for almost three months, waiting to begin further studies. I want to become a history professor, I think. I thought so then anyway. I knew that I had not financial worries, and knowing that the monies, if they were invested reasonably well were going to give me enough income that I would not have to work if I did not want to. So, I decided that I would take some time off and I would go to Gettysburg PA, and see what was there. I got on the bus. It was an almost eleven hour ride from where I lived. It is shorter than that, but with the stopover at US customs and the little towns along the way, it took eleven hours. I was really beat. I located a motel on the outskirts of Gettysburg, and I crashed. Two Looking back on it now, I will admit that as we drew close to the town where so many had died in such a blood letting, I had a very strange kind of emotion. It was almost physical. I do not know if I can describe it, but it felt very strange indeed. It started with the kind of tingling that you get in your nerve endings when you drink too much caffeine, or if you drink half a bottle of JOLT. JOLT for the uninitiated is a soda that has horrendous amounts of sugar and caffeine in it, so it gives you a jolt for sure. It was this strange kind of excitement that I felt. It had started, very weakly but enough for me to notice it as we passed through the city of Harrisburg. The feeling got stronger and stronger as we progressed. About twenty miles from Gettysburg, I had the odd feeling that I was with someone. It was even odder in the sense that I felt as though that someone were also inside of me. It did not scare me though, as I felt strangely as though in some way, my personality was being completed. It gave me a sense of wholeness that I had never felt before. I had always felt as though I were more alone in the world than other people, even though I knew my parents really loved me. This feeling was a sense of becoming a whole or complete person for the first time in my life. I can not explain it any other way. It was as though all of a sudden my body was full of a whole person rather than just what I had always s felt about myself. There was also a sense of excitement. I felt as though I was somehow about to experience something that was going to change the direction of my life, though I had no idea of what it was going to be. On the outskirts of Gettysburg, I became aware that the other person that I had been feeling in me, was elated. I felt a sense of great joy and satisfaction coming from that person. It was as though I could also begin to hear her singing inside of my head. Yes, I could hear 'her'. The singing was that of a young woman. The young woman was inside of me. As I thought about the oddity of that whole proposition, I also began to get a sense of her personality too. I knew that she was a mischievous type of personality. I knew that she was one that caused all those around her exasperations, and yet they all loved her dearly. I admitted that as I became more familiar with her personality, that I too loved her. It may seem strange, but she generated a sense to me of how excited she had been about her life, and a sense of wonderment about life that seems to come from the truly innocent types of persons. I am sure that you know what I mean. This strange sense of having a girl inside of me, one who was made extremely joyous because I had let her come into me, was confusing, but she felt so nice to me that I did not want to waste time considering what was really going on. I just like her, and I liked that way that she made me feel. Fortunately the motel was very close to the bus station. As I slept that night, my dreams were filled of the scenes of the town as it had been in the late 1700's. I saw myself wandering the streets, visiting the shops and romping through the fields, when I was a young girl. That thought was so disturbing to me, that it jolted me from my sleep. But the dreams were so very vivid in their detail that I knew that they were real memories of someone, though not my own. It occurred to me that they might be the memories of the girl that I had sensed was taking up residence with me inside of myself. I heard the eerie sweet haunting melody of her singing again. She was singing a song that I knew, Amazing Grace. I knew intuitively that it was a song that had only been recently introduced to the local congregation where she had attended, and that she had loved the song, and she had learned it quickly. I also learned that her name was Deborah. When I awoke, I intuitively knew all kinds of things about her. Deborah was a young woman who had died in the war. It is true that it is said that there was only one civilian casualty in the war, but she told me that she was the first casualty, only her body had never been found. A young rebel soldier had killed her by mistake very near to the Devils Den. The Devils Den is a very large outcropping of large boulders on the outer edge of the Gettysburg battlefield. He'd been so remorseful and so afraid of reprisals that he had, under the cover of darkness taken her to the rock formation. There, he had dug under the rocks, in one of the crevices, and in doing so, he had discovered a small buried cavern that was just a wee bit bigger than big enough to hold her body. There he had hidden her corps. I could see a mystical kind of transparent vision as though I could see through her eyes, as she watched him bury her body. She had actually felt sorry for the fear and terror that they young man had felt at the possibility of being discovered for having killed the beautiful young girl. I wondered how she could possibly forgive him for killing her, then for trying to hide her body like that. Yet she did. She seemed to have a heart that was able to overflow with love. I knew one thing for certain. The stronger of a reality that she became to me, the more that I loved and envied her. I was aghast to also find that I had a strong desire to become like her. I also knew that this desire was for two reasons. One, I had never really liked myself. Two, her love for her life was almost infectious. It was a shame that such a bright candle had been extinguished so early in her life. I went back to sleep, and this time I was allowed to rest. She let my body catch up with what it needed. When I awoke in the morning, I was really refreshed. I felt better than I had ever felt in my life. I also felt more alive than I had ever felt in my life. I had never been excited before about what kind of prospects that a new day might hold for me, but I was this day. I took a hot shower, and Deborah told me that she loved the way that it had felt. She had never had a shower before, and she loved it. She was amazed that I could just turn a silver handle, and produce hot water from the wall in the way that I did it. I was delighted by her excitement. But she also found some other things that she wanted to explore too. For instance, she was amazed to find that I had a male body. She told me that she had just assumed that since we were such compatible spirits that she had assumed that I was a girl too. She was most curious, as she had never known what a male was like. She had been kissed once or twice, but that was the extent of her involvement with males. She asked me if it was alright for her to explore me. I really did not feel that it was out of line, as we did both seem to be in the same body, for whatever reason. So I stood in the shower, and while I was feeling my hands as they roved over my body, I was also feeling her excitement about being allowed to so intimately touch a male for the first time in her life. She was ecstatic, and she was very sexually aroused too. Needless to say, feeling her sense of virginal sensuality caused me an erection, with which Deborah was most delighted. She spent a long time exploring it with my hands, telling me all kinds of things about how excited it was making her. Then, she was delighted when suddenly I began to ejaculate. It seemed that somehow, that whatever it is that happens inside of a person when they experience release from the sex act, also was some kind of release for her to bind even more so with me. I felt as though she was not just with me, but that she was becoming part of me too. She felt so wonderfully personable too. I knew that if I had met her while she was still in a girl's body, that I would have fallen madly in love with her. I dried myself off and went back to the bedroom. I thought nothing of it, as I went over to turn on the television to catch up on the overnight news of the world. But Deborah literally leapt when she saw the pictures on the screen. I actually felt my arms rise and my feet leave the floor as she leapt inside of me. The fact that she could exercise such an influence over my body when I was relaxed and she was excited, really amazed me. Her excitement about just about everything was truly a wonderment to me. I realized that I had become really deadened since the death of my parents. Deborah was changing that for me though. Deborah sensed my change in mood, and I felt an amazing flood of concern for me from her. As I explained to her what I had just been thinking about, it dawned on me that while I was privy to every nuance of her thoughts or emotions, she was not able to read me the same way. She could only understand from me, what I explained to her. This was most curious indeed. In a way I was kind of glad though. It meant that I could preserve some of myself, should I choose to do so from her. I started to get dressed, and she was horrified that I was not going to put on the kind of underwear that she had only ever known in her life. She did not at all like the feel of my clothes at all. She told me she felt utterly naked when I pulled on my shorts and tee shirt. I felt her desire to be wearing bloomers, stockings and a heavy long skirt again. I could hardly believe it, but she also missed the sense of security that wearing a corset had always given to her. I calmed her down, and I reminded her that this was a different period of time in history. She accepted that, albeit it rather reluctantly. It was time for some breaky. She was famished. Deborah was most excited and anxious to begin to explore the streets of the town she had not seen for over a hundred years. I went out to the street and made my way down towards the town center. I spotted an attractive middle aged lady about half a block away. She was wearing a pink silk blouse with white shorts and sandals. Deborah experienced a myriad of emotions. She was shocked to see a woman's legs in public. She was outraged at such a display of sexuality in public. She was delighted to know that women were now allowed to be more like men in the sense that they did not have to be bound in corsets and overwhelmed on hot days by the tedious discomfort of long skirts and petticoats. Her sense of religious shock was also plain to me. This was something that she had just never imagined would ever happen. I explained briefly a bit of history to her, the kind of history that an excitable young girl might be interested in hearing, which made me reflect, as I was teaching her, how differently is the perspectives from which boys and girls really appreciate things in life. I stopped at a Friendly's restaurant and had a light breakfast. I usually did not eat breakfast at all, but Deborah was famished. She told me that she always ate a big breakfast. It seemed so strange to be able to carry on a conversation with in my own mind, with another person who was so totally different than I was. She was delighted and amazed when the waitress came, wearing a mini skirt and makeup. She, through my eyes, took in every little detail of how the girl had done up her face. Deborah was ecstatic, but she was kind of upset with me when I told her that I really did not want for her to paint my face like that. She was genuinely disappointed. I got for the first time in my life, a sense of how a girl might feel about wearing makeup. What amazed me was the strength of her desire to apply it to my face, as though it was her own face. I very quickly learned that it was the Memorial Day weekend. Of course, being a Canadian lad, Memorial Day celebrations meant nothing to me, aside from being the weekend of the birthday celebration of Queen Victoria. But being this weekend, it meant that there was a lot of unusual to do about the little colonial town. I walked about a block towards the down town area, when I cam to a large building that was set back a bit from the street. It had a huge wide open porch on it. There was also a colonial enrolment camp set up on the lawn, and there were about twelve or so men there in most curious uniforms. They wore black or dark blue tunics, with no buttons on them. There pants were baggy, like those you would see in an Arabian Nights type of movie. My inclination was to pass on by, but Deborah was fascinated. At her prompting, I went up and sat on the porch, my feet dangling down into the tops of the flowers. Deborah commented that for a boy I was pretty small, that I could not be very much bigger than she had been when she had had her own body. It turned out that the soldiers were there to demonstrate the drill of the New York regiment of the Zhouav. We got a bit of the history of the regiment, and an explanation of the uniforms. Then they were going to demonstrate their firing formations to us. When the first round of shots rang out, Deborah screamed, and though my hands were still on the concrete porch, I felt the pressure on the sides of my head, as she raised her hands to cover her ears. I sensed the fear that she had known when she'd walked the streets of Gettysburg that day. I got her to calm down, reminding her that the rifles did not use real bullets and that it was just a demonstration. She got a hold of herself, though I realized that for a girl to take hold of her emotions was a far more arduous task than it was for a boy. It seemed that her emotions, which I was privy to experience, were far more intense than any I had ever known. It made me wonder how girls were able to maintain their sanity. I also suddenly realized that while boys made fun of girls for doing things like crying, that crying was an essential part of a girl's arsenal for handling things like her emotions. I also began to realize that girls, while also criticized by boys for always talking too much, were just doing what is normal for a girl. A girl learns by talking out and sharing ideas, while a boy tends to learn by thinking in his own mind about things. That was why she was constantly talking to me. After the demonstrations, I walked a bit further, and Deborah wanted to go to my right. I crossed the street for her, and soon found myself in a huge cemetery park. Rows upon rows of small pillow stones with names of soldiers engraved in them. She asked me to walk amongst the rows for her. As I did so, every once in a while, I would hear her gasp, and I would feel a pang of sorrow from her, and I knew that she had seen the name of someone that she had known in her own life. As she felt the feelings of grief and shock, I would see an image of how that person had looked the last time that she had seen him. It was a curious way to view the world, indeed. As we walked, she would have me stop at the monuments. She was astounded at the size of some of them. She was even more amazed to read the numerous names. She had died just as the war was beginning and she had no idea that so many people had been involved in the melee. She would let me see into her memory, before that park was the size it had become, and before the monuments were on Cemetery Hill. I saw the rough hewn shacks that had been there. I saw the humongous trees as they had been over a hundred years earlier. One tree in particular she was drawn to. The bark grown over it, but she showed me that it had had a carving in it. I knew that I was the only person alive who could see the carving today, and that was me. It was of a heart with an arrow through it. It said D + B. Before I asked her, I could feel the love that she had had for the young waif Mr. Billie Jenkins as she had watched him caring that heart for her as a testament of his love for Deborah. I was overwhelmed at the warmth of her feeling for the boy. I certainly had never imagined that I would have ever felt a girl's love for a boy, but I did. I could almost see his cute dimples and sense his shy personality, and the way he had appealed to her. She had had a crush on him for a long time, and I felt her embarrassment at his finding out that she had liked him. I also knew that her father hated young Billie and would have thrashed him if he had known that she was with him at that moment of his carving in the bark of the tree. I walked around as though I was in a dream. It seemed so strange to be walking in two worlds at the same time. I do not know how I manage to not overload my brain and go completely insane. Everywhere I looked, I would see what is, and a shadowy reflection of what was. After about two hours of walking through the park, she marveling at what she was seeing as much as I was marveling at what her memories were letting me see, I headed for the far side of Cemetery Hill. I walked through the wrought iron gates and out onto the street. I walked slowly down towards the town center. As we headed in that direction, I could feel that Deborah was getting very excited. It was making my own heart beat wilder. I cold also sense her fear and dread as she remembered how things had been that day. I looked straight ahead, and I saw a most curious sight. It was a three story brick house that had one small window on the top floor over to the right side. I felt her catch her breath and she had a flood of emotions. Some were of fond memories of growing up in that house. Some were of the fear from hearing the bullets striking the wall of the house. It was because of hearing the bullets striking the wall, that she had fled her home. She had gone out to the woods to try and find a safe place to hide. The rebel who had killed her had mistaken her for a Yankee soldier, as she had been wearing a blue dress with gold coloured braiding on it that day. I had to slow down things to catch control of my mind back from the impish teen aged girl who had lived on these streets over a hundred years earlier. Deborah did not want me to slow down, but she understood and she did not push me faster than I felt that I wanted to go. I stopped for an Italian ice, cherry flavour. Deborah was delighted. She had never tasted anything like that before. She carried on a steady stream of conversation which I was sort of getting used to hearing, as she let me see her memories of how the streets had looked when she was growing up in them. We came to the yard of the house she had grown up in. There was an encampment of Union soldiers in the flower shrouded yard. She was so excited because it still looked so familiar to her. She noted all the bullet holes in the wall and she was ecstatic when some young ladies came out with trays of sandwiches and ice tea and lemonade for the soldiers. I felt her overwhelming pang of jealousy and envy as she looked at the pretty dresses that the ladies were wearing. I asked how she could ever want to wear such stuff on such a hot day. She was silent for a moment, then I suddenly had a most curious experience. I suddenly felt the constriction of a corset. And I felt the soft swish of the petticoats on my hosed legs. I felt the delicate arch of the high instep of the high laced high heeled boots she had grown up wearing. And I felt the softness of the dress that she was imaging that she was wearing, wearing on my body. I sensed the long curls falling about my face, and I smelled the perfume she had loved. She did not say anything. She just let me feel what she remembered it had felt like, when she dressed up pretty. I was astounded. I also sensed how delighted the young girl had felt, when she knew that she was pretty and that the boys of the town would be vying for her attentions. Now I had some kind of understanding about why girls spent so much time on their appearances. It made them feel wonderful when they felt pretty. It was, I had to admit to my own biased mind, a very nice feeling indeed. Gradually Deborah seemed to weaken and the sensations that she had made me feel began to fade somewhat. But the emotions she had felt, and the sensations of wearing her clothing had left an indelible mark on my mind. What I feared to admit, I did admit to myself. I had loved the way that it had felt to be a pretty young lady. It had made me have an erection, an erection which did not escape Deborah's notice. She also commented that she had known that I would absolutely love knowing how it felt to be an attractive young woman. I was stunned by my own reactions to her revelations. I could not speak. All that I could do was to marvel at how it had felt, and how much I had liked it. I suddenly for the first time in my life, felt a sense of envy for young girls. Three We walked up one side and down the other of the main street fronting off Cemetery Hill. Deborah was both delighted and saddened to see how the town had changed. But many of the buildings much to my amazement looked very much as they had looked when she had walked the streets as a teen aged girl. I got a running commentary about who had lived where, what kind of persons they were, and what the local gossip was about each of them. By this time, I was exhausted. I headed back to the motel, and on the way, I stopped at the Friendly's restaurant again. Deborah wanted a salad. I was too overwhelmed and to argue with her, and I ordered taco salad for her. She had never tasted anything like that, and she loved it. I got a peculiar kind of pleasure from being able to give her pleasures that she had never known before. But, I had nearly had my fill of Gettysburg. I had learned far more than I had ever expected to learn. I was ready to go back home and resume my life as I had known it. I spent a fitful late afternoon and evening, dozing on and off in front of the television. Deborah was fascinated with it and she particularly wanted me to let her watch the fashion channel, the MTV channels and she was enthralled with the QVC and HSN (home shopping channels to the uninitiated). Out of the blue, when I was half asleep, she asked me if I had liked the way that it had felt this afternoon, when she had dressed me up in her clothes. Reluctantly, after some nagging, I admitted to her that I had liked it. Then she asked me if I had ever tried wearing girl's clothes before. I told her that I had not. I tried to explain to her that in modern society, that males who wore female dress were considered to be a very low form of life. They were accepted usually by only people of their own kind. I explained about the homosexual movement too. She replied that some things never changed. After a moment of reflection, she asked me if I would be willing to do her a favour. She wanted to know if I would be willing to buy her some of the modern clothes that modern girls wear so that she could see what they felt like to wear. I laughed and told her that this would mean that I would be buying girl's clothes to put on a boy's body. She laughed too, but I had the sneaky suspicion that she had understood what she was asking me to do. Then she let me sleep deeply. All night long however, I had wonderfully feeling and vividly coloured dreams of myself the boy me that is. But in all of the dreams I was dressed as a pretty girl in very feminine clothing. I was doing all kinds of normal things that pretty girls do in their normal life styles. By the time that I awoke in the morning, I had lost the abhorrence that I had always had, for the idea of a boy wearing girl's clothes. I did not hate fairies and fags anymore. I just knew that Deborah had brainwashed me while I was asleep, but I did not care anymore. I loved her so much by now that I was willing to do whatever she asked me to, and I suspected that she knew that. What I did not expect though was that on my bus ride on my way back home, I found myself looking at every girl that I saw. I was looking at them, not with the lust of a teen aged boy for a girl, but with the curiosity and envy of one girl for another. I would see a pretty girl, and note how she was wearing her clothes, and wondering what her lingerie was looking like on her. I was having stronger and stronger desires to know what wearing those clothes would feel like. I wondered what wearing the same panties that the girls I was looking at were wearing, would feel like on me. About half way home, at Syracuse New York, I decided to debark from the bus and stay overnight. Deborah had somehow managed to tap into my memory, and she had learned about the Carousel Mall. That evening, I found myself back in my motel room, and I had bags and bags of girl's clothing and makeup. I was so ashamed of what I was doing. I was as ashamed of what I had done to the same degree as Deborah was elated at the prospect of getting to wear modern day feminine clothes. I sort of put my mind into neutral and I let her run the show. She took me for a luxurious bath in which she had me shave off all of my body hair, excepting my head and eyebrows. She made the comment that I had not had much more hair that she had had. That made me feel really masculine, let me tell you. Then I spent an hour and a half in front of the mirror as she experimented with modern makeup. Most of the stuff was entirely new to her, but she had an innate talent for making up her face. I was soon astounded to see my eyes looking back at me from a pretty young girl's face. She had tried, she told me, to make me look as much like she had looked as she could. She was also convinced that if we had lived at the same time in history, that we could have been identical twin sisters. I felt feminine for the first time in my life, and I had to admit that I really loved how it felt. It was an entirely new experience. I knew that if I put on a dress and went outside, that everyone would think that I was really a girl. The whole idea was so foreign to anything that I had ever thought of doing before, and yet I was kind of fascinated with the idea. I did not object when Deborah told me that it was time to put on my panties. Reluctant to take my eyes of the cherubic cute visage that I saw in my mirror, I took myself from the vanity and over to the bed. There was an array of feminine clothing there, awaiting my male body. I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that I was betraying all that I had believed about boyhood, up to that time, as for the first time in my life I picked up a pair of pink silk panties, and I stepped into the lace trimmed leg holes. I was as delighted as was Deborah when I felt the soft delicate silkiness slowly move up my hairless legs. I got an instant erection as I effeminated myself with the lingerie. Deborah was delighted, because as she said, I could no longer lie to her about how much I wanted to wear these clothes. She told me how she understood about how a boy feels, but she knew that I did not feel like a normal boy. She knew that I loved sharing a girl's innermost feelings too much to not enjoy how a girl feels about wearing pretty clothes. I did not want to agree with her, but a part of my psyche resigned itself to accepting her dominance over me. In what seemed like only seconds, as my mind was not really registering the strange happenings, I found myself standing in front of the full length mirror on the bath room door. I was wearing a lovely silk light green dress whose hem only reach to my mid thigh. The silky loose sleeves caressed my skin. On my feet were green high heeled open toed sandals. My hair had been covered with a long light blond wig that framed my face in a halo of curls. Deborah told me that it was the way she used to wear her hair, and that it suited me very well. I could feel my erection straining in the loose silk of my panties. I had to admit to her that I had never felt so alive or sensuous in my life. She wanted to raise my skirt and pleasure me. I watched as she raised the hem of my dress, then she lowered the panties. I nearly screamed with the intensity of the emotions that coursed through me as she made me ejaculate all over the mirror. But, just as she made me start to orgasm, she whispered in my ear that I was going to love it even more when she would be able to get a real young man to put his penis into my mouth for her to taste. I hated the idea, and yet the idea was ever so perverse and exciting at the same time. But I also sensed that somehow, because she would like to do such an intimate thing with a real boy, that I would like doing it too. I did not want to be a fag, but the intensity of the feelings that she was bringing to me were too strong for me to even want to resist feeling them again and again. I nearly feinted with the intense bliss that I felt. It radiated out throughout my entire being, not at all like the boy orgasms I had had before Deborah had become a part of my life. She told me that this was much more like what a real girl feels, and that the more that I let her experience through me, the more intense would be the pleasures that she would be able to let me feel. I resigned any desire that I had to resist her from that point on. Having Deborah in my life was just too amazing and too sensual for me to want to resist her. I loved her, and I loved what she was able to make me feel. My life was so completely different from what it was now. Now it was full and vibrant and exciting. It was also perverse, but the perversion served as a kind of catalyst too. Once I had regained my composure, she giggled as she watched me stuff myself back into the delicate girl's panties. She asked me if I was ready to find out what it felt like to be treated like a pretty young woman. I told her that I would go along with whatever she wanted. I could almost feel the intense glee that she was feeling at the prospect of once again being treated like a young queen. Deborah had loved everything about her life, and I felt her sincere desire to share her joys with me. I slung a purse over my shoulder, and we went out to the lobby. I suddenly spoke like a girl, when I asked the desk clerk if he could recommend a place where a girl might have some fun on a Sunday night in Syracuse. He was a young guy, and told me that if he was not working that he could guarantee that I would have some fun, but alas, he was committed. He did suggest a place though where a girl could go on her own, and maybe meet someone. I scrunched up my face at him in a friendly grin as I thanked him for his help. Then I went out to flag down a cab. On the way to the club, I looked down at my pretty nyloned knees as my skirt rode up too high. I raised my bum to tug down at my skirt hem, as I wondered how girls ever managed things like this. As I rode, I noted that it seemed that the more that I gave Deborah leeway in my life, the more that she was able to tap into my knowledge about modern life. She did not seem to be able to read my personal emotions or my personal thoughts, but she was able to identify all the new things that she was seeing through my eyes, with a familiarity that she had not been able to have before. Deborah was also a very smart girl I now realized. She was able to learn very rapidly, and adjust herself to the new knowledge readily. It was kind of comforting in a way, because I knew that she would know exactly how to avoid getting me hurt. She wanted me to love letting her live through me, and she knew that I would not let her, if she risked my safety. I was finding that I trusted Deborah, and I wanted for her to live through me, because I wanted very much to feel her feelings as she did so. I knew it was really perverse, but she was making me feel things I had never felt before. I had certainly never felt pretty and desirable before, that was for sure. At the club, it was not very long before I had guys hitting on me. One of the most amazing things that first occurred was when I found that guys wanted to pay for my drinks for me. I had never had anyone, other than my parents of course, want to buy things for me. I enjoyed the popularity of a young attractive woman in a place where guys go to hunt and conquer. Deborah was very careful to keep my true gender a secret. She had a mastery over social situations that I marveled at. She did not hesitate to treat men as though they were her servants. Guys that I would have been afraid of, bent over backwards to try and please the young woman in the short green dress. Deborah teased me too. She accepted a slow dance with a really good looking guy. I had never stood so close to a guy before, let alone put my arms up around his neck. Then she shocked my by pressing my belly against his hard on. I heard her giggling as she sensed my shock to realize that I was turning a guy on sexually. He asked me for my name, and before I could say Denzil, she interrupted and told him my name was Debi. He thought that it was as cute as I thought that it was too. She would not let any of the guys get too close to me though. I admit that I had a ball being wanted by so many of the boys. I had never enjoyed such a popularity. Debi told me that guys were always the same, no matter what time period we lived in. They all had such fragile egos that they were so easy to manipulate by a smart girl. I had to agree with her, because I was seeing first hand how a girl like Deborah could manipulate a guy. It seemed that even though most of them were all so macho, that they all seemed to be terrified that a girl might reject them in any way. I saw how true that was as I saw her relate to them. She had them eating out of my hand. She made sure to give them nothing, and yet make them all feel as though they privileged to be allowed to be around her. I was amazed at the power that an attractive girl has over a guy. They would, it seemed, do anything to stay in my good graces. I was more than delighted by it all. Just before midnight, Debi excused us, and went out to get a cab. I wanted to know what her plan was, and she told me that she was going to let me have a real girl pleasure. I instinctively knew what she was planning, and yet I was so enthralled with the evening, that I had no desire to stop her from enacting out her plan for me. Four We walked back into the lobby, just as Gerry was signing over the shift to the next worker. He looked up when the door opened, and I could not believe the size of the grin that split his youthful boyish face. He was delighted to see me walking back in, just as he was getting off work. He asked how I had liked the club, and I told him that I had enjoyed meeting all the hunks that were there. He asked if he could come to my room, ostensibly to check on things, and make sure that all was too my liking. Debi smiled and told him that she would really like that. And so I felt ever so weird as I walked beside this good looking boy, as he accompanied me to my room. At the door, I reached into my purse for the key. He took it from me and he opened the door for me. He pushed it opened then bowed low as he swept his arm before me, indicating that I should precede him into the room. I was ashamed at the mess I had left. There were dresses, skirts, blouses and lingerie spread out all over the bed. I blushed as I noted how his eyes lit up when he saw all of my ladies unmentionables. I giggle and apologized, telling him that I had not been expecting to entertain a handsome young man in my room. I could almost see his chest puffing out when he heard that. I chided Deborah for trying to get me into trouble, but she just told me to enjoy it all. She went on to watch as he made a pretense of checking out everything in the room. Debi asked him if he would like a glass of white wine. Needless to say, he was delighted at the invitation to stay with a pretty girl for just a bit longer. She made me look down, and I noted that he had a throbbing bulge in the front of his jeans. She giggled when I felt a sense of humiliation about being a boy and trying to turn a boy on the way that I was. But it felt kind of delicious too, to know that I had the power to make another guy feel like this about me. Debi directed for him to sit on the love seat, and she turned on an easy listening radio station, and she made me swish my bum as I walked around the room to serve him his wine. I felt utterly feminine and pretty, and I loved every second of it. When I went over to serve him his wine, he took my hand and pulled gently on it, so that I found myself seated on top of his hard on. He was throbbing for me too. I felt strangely as though he were complimenting me by his reaction to me. Deborah melted inside of me with a delightful sense of surrender, when Gerry put his arms around my shoulders and pulled my face down so that he could kiss me. I smelled his after shave lotion. I felt his hard thin lips on my soft pinked lips, and it made me like being kissed like a girl gets kissed. I also liked it when he started to lick my lips. It was ever so erotic to me. Debi encouraged me to encourage Gerry, by parting my lips for him. So I did, and I was rewarded by and invasion of my mouth by his tongue. I hated being a fag, but I could not deny that the erection in my panties was the hardest one that I had ever had in my life. I and Deborah enjoyed the sensations and emotions of being loved and cherished as Gerry's hands slowly and sensuously explored my back, my thighs and my breasts. The he floored me. He pulled his head back and he looked into my eyes. He asked me if I wanted to suck his cock. I was astounded and my first reaction was to slap his face and ask him what he thought that I was. But once again Deborah preempted me. She kissed the end of his nose, and told him that she would love to do that for him. I was too stunned to stop her, as she slipped to her knees on the floor in front of him. He smiled down at me, and he opened his pants. I heard her comment that Gerry was very much bigger than me, when I watched her take his cock into my hands, and gently begin to massage him. I also felt her admiration for a cock, and I felt her sense of love for this masculine personality that was letting her please him. I tried to get her to stop it, but she told me that I had love being a girl so much already, that I should just let her have some fun, and let her show me how much love a girl could have for a guy. I had already resigned to her so much that day, that I knew I had little choice in the matter. Besides, her words were true. I had loved being a girl, and doing this kind of intimate thing with Gerry was certainly just one more step in being a girl, was it not? I heard her use my voice to coo, and tell him that he had a really nice cock. Then I smelled his musky odor, as she leaned over and used my lips to plant a little kiss of adoration on him. I felt her adoration for a male cock that she would never have. I reluctantly also admitted that I would never have a cock like this either. Beside this one, what was in my panties was more like a clitoris. Debi told me that I had a pretty cockette in my panties, as I felt my lips begin to slide over the dry head of his cock. Gerry moaned and totally relaxed into the couch, as I felt the head of his cock enter into my mouth. He had a cock that was circumcised, and I liked that. I could hardly believe that I liked it, but I liked it almost as much as Debi did as she cooed in my mind about how wonderful it felt to finally be able to feel a man in the way that girls are supposed to feel men. I loved knowing that I too, was just doing what a normal girl does. I loved knowing that I was so completely identified with real girls. I felt complete. I asked her what I should do next. She told me to just do what I wanted to do. I was a bit taken aback at that kind of reaction, because it indicated to me that she thought that I was an effeminate with out having her influence inside of me. But I could also not deny that I was dressed as a girl, I was kneeling in front of a guy, and I did have his cock inside of my mouth. Not only that, but I also admitted that I loved being so totally cast in the role of a girl, because Gerry thought that I was really a girl. Okay, once again, I accepted that Deborah had known things about me that I had not known about myself. I began to lick the underside of his cock, and I liked the salty taste of his man flesh. I liked the hardness that was under the surface of his satiny smooth skin. I was finally willing to admit to myself that I really liked being a girl, and pleasing a guy. I loved it. I could feel every feminine stitch that I was wearing, and my nerve endings seemed to be alive with the sensations of the sensuous clothing that I wore. I was more alive being a girl, that I had ever been in my entire life. I set about to suck his cock, not just to please Gerry, but to please myself by doing it. Being a girl was the most deeply satisfying thing that I could ever imagine. I loved being a girl. As I was about to really enjoy sucking a cock for the first time, Gerry erupted into my mouth. It had such force that it amazed me. I pulled my head back, and manipulated his flesh till I found my mouth full of his cum. Deborah told me to swallow it like a girl does. I did, enjoying the feel of the thick salty material. Deborah was elated. I had received the essence of a man inside of me, like a real girl does. I admitted to her, as I sucked the remained out of him, that it made me happy too. Thus was my introduction to the world of the transvestite. Since then, Deborah has continued to live in me. I have arranged it so that she actually lives her life out through my body. I took courses at the university that would be suitable to a woman's career goals. Most of the people I work with just accept me as an effeminate man, but they have no idea of how feminine my life style it. I have not worn male clothing for years. I look like a man when I go to work, but it is mannish cut feminine clothes that I wear. I wear lingerie. When I go home, my pants are traded for skirts, dresses or ladies shorts. I do not even own a stitch of male clothing. As well, I am engaged to be married, to a man. I can hardly wait to become his loving bride either. Bye for now, from a sweet and feminine personality, Miss Debi.