Nandita To Nandini
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Beginnings And Endings free porn video
Beginnings and Endings
By Ray Kitten
Peter shifted the heavy garbage bag to the center of his back as it had once
again managed to slip down towards his armpit. Once the traffic signal changed he
trudged again onward, still deep in thought as he plodded right in front of a car
that was trying to navigate a sharp left turn. The driver forced his brakes and
narrowly avoided running Peter down, as he quick dashed to the sidewalk the
driver leaned out the window to holler words which Peter was too polite to
repeat.
The physical and mental weight of the bag was oppressive on his back as Peter
reached a new block, marching onward yet he had not gone a dozen steps when his
train of thought drifted. He stared down at his shoes as he walked, he hated
them, they were black, ugly bricks of imitation leather, thick and clunky. He
gave a sigh as he realized that he had better get used to them however, and
perhaps in time, learn to like them.
Here he was, less than two weeks into his engagement, expecting that his new
fianc?e would be the foremost thing on his mind. But as he carried the trash bag
block after endless block, he found it difficult to get his mind off other
things, such as the contents of this bag and it's final destination. In his
mind's eye he could see many of the items within and recall the significance of
each one.
First of all there was the dress. But this was not just any dress; this was the
very first dress that Peter had ever worn. It had belonged to his older sister
Pam, and in his mind it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. At
17, Pam was 3 years older than him. He had always been a runt; and at a time when
most boys where beginning their growth spurts, he was still a couple inches
shorter than her.
Peter had gone into the bags of clothing being given away to Goodwill to retrieve
a favorite T-shirt which his mother had thrown in because it was torn, but the
moment his hand landed on the dress he was mesmerized, and completely forgot
about the shirt. It was beautiful, black velvet with a knee length flared skirt,
and a big floppy bow at the back with a V neckline and those huge puffed up
sleeves. It was so wonderfully soft and feminine. It had once upon a time been
Pam's favorite party dress, but had decided to get rid of it because she felt it
was too childish what with the huge bow and balloon sleeves.
He had taken it back up to his room; at first intending just to look at it while
imagining some of the girls he knew wearing the dress. However, after a while
Peter started thinking about what it would be like actually to see someone in the
dress, Yet he couldn't think of any girl he knew that would try it on, and
wouldn't think he was some sort of freak if she found out he had kept one of his
sister's dresses in his room. Somewhere along the line the idea came to him to
try the dress on himself. At least then he would know how it hung on a body, and
how the sleeves puffed out when they actually had arms in them.
However the idea seemed so odd and even a little gay, so he brushed it off, but
as time passed it continued to come back as the only opportunity to see someone
actually wearing the treasured dress. Finally, after almost a month of debating,
he came to the only decision he could. He put on the dress himself.
He had trouble with the zipper, so he ended up threading a string through the
zipper tab and pulling it up with that. He turned and looked at himself in a
mirror. Somehow it didn't hang right, it was still a gorgeous dress but he simply
didn't do it justice. As he stood there studying the boy in a dress that returned
his analytical eye, it occurred to him, girls had breasts. A quick trip to Pam's
room for a bra, and a half dozen water balloons later so did he, who would have
thought it was so hard to make two water balloons the same size.
With his new girlish figure he looked again in the mirror with just a touch of
awe. If he squinted just right it could be a fairly boyish girl wearing this
dress. As he turned to examine himself the skirt brushed his legs teasingly, he
hadn't been prepared for how good that would feel. Right then and there he knew
that he would be wearing dresses again, and often.
The next item that came to mind, as Peter somberly made his way deeper into the
heart of the city, was a deep blue full length nightie which he had also taken
without permission, not that he would ever have dared ask anyway. It had full-
length sleeves and a scoop neckline, which was covered over in flower patterned
lace, as was the whole bodice. The skirt of the nightie was slightly flared and
sank to his knees. It had been his favorite nightie, even over ones that he had
acquired both before and after it. He took that item from Pam's stock of
clothing, which she had left behind when she went off to university, to study
psychology of all things. She was now practicing in the big city. Too bad they
were forbidden to accept family members as patients. Perhaps she could have
helped him make sense of his desires to wear women's clothing. No matter now,
Peter sighed to himself, still lost in thought still.
He glanced around him taking stock of where he was, seeing that he had only nine
more blocks till he reached his destination. Sighing once more, he fixed his gaze
yet again upon his ugly, mannish shoes, they reminded him of another item within
the bag, and it's accompanying outfit. There was such a contrast between them.
In high school, he had allowed himself to enter into a bet, which resulted in his
having to attend the Halloween dance dressed as a girl. It had been rather easy
to manipulate one of the macho jerks from the basketball team, into a wager as to
who would make a better looking girl; the judging would take place at the dance
and an independent panel was selected by both of them. The looser would get stuck
with the bills for both outfits, so both Peter and his unknowing mark Derek
Schnider, went all out on price for their outfits.
Peter purchased a nurse's costume from a novelty store, it was the super short
type that a real nurse would never even dream of wearing, but it was cute none-
the-less. After that he bought a pair of white thigh gripping patterned
stockings, with a matching bra and panty set. That had been the first time he had
ever bought clothing without pretending to be gift shopping for his mother,
sister, or girlfriend. Then, Peter had gone to the shoe section and spent hours
trying on every pair of white heels he could find. He eventually located the
shoes of his dreams, they were white, and would match the costume. They had a 3-
inch stiletto heel, but the most beautiful feature of these shoes were the cut
out sides which where also windowed in patterned lace. Over $100 worth of
clothing for free, he had giggling fits about that for a long time afterwards.
There were so many other memories in the bag; one of the most painful memories
was symbolized by a sleek black cocktail dress. It was smooth satin, with a low
cut back and a collar style neck that left the shoulders and arms bare. It flowed
down to his ankles, with a slit up one side showing a lot of leg, all the way up
to his knee. When he wore that dress it seemed to flow like liquid onyx as he
moved, and clung to his body, outlining the very feminine shape that he had been
fortunate to posses, in particular highlighting his bottom.
The dress had been a gift from the one and only girl he had dated in the past.
After almost a year together he felt that things between them were serious enough
for him to tell her about his dressing. She had been a little unsure of it at
first but agreed to test the waters slowly. One night she asked Peter to come
over to her home, which is when she gave him the dress. That night they both got
all dressed up in their formals, and she had helped him with his make-up
something, which despite years of occasional practice, he still couldn't quite
manage to do well as easily as real girls. Once they were ready they sat down to
an absolutely wonderful candlelight dinner, delivered by a fancy restaurant.
Afterwards they shared a bottle of wine in the dimly lighted living room, dancing
close together for hours. That had been one of the most wonderful evenings in
Peter's life. Unfortunately he later learned that the evening had been a last
ditch effort on his girlfriends part to come to terms with his tendencies, and
she later told him it had unfortunately failed, explaining "I just feel too much
like a lesbian."
The next item which came to his mind was a cute little outfit he bought shortly
after he turned 21. It was a light blue miniskirt with a matching tank top, which
he had later taken rhinestones and set them in the shirt to spell out the words
"Sissy Boy". He had worn this outfit the first time he ever went out to the
city's only gay bar, "Bifrost". In the entrance way to the bar was a bridge
painted in a rainbow pattern, and just beyond that was a small pamphlet on the
wall explaining the name. Turns out the name of the bar was the name of the
rainbow bridge into the land of the gods in Norse Mythology.
He had debated for a long time the virtues of going there against the risk of
someone seeing him. The main comforting thought was that anyone he saw there was
likely to know what it was like to have someone judge them for what they were. He
was sure that even if anyone he did meet someone who he knew they wouldn't hassle
him about what he was. Besides, he was dressing like a girl on a more and more
regular basis ever since he had moved out of his parent's house into his own
apartment, and he had to wonder whether his feminine desires went deeper.
He still had faced the problem of how to get to the bar though, he had no car of
his own, and either walking or the bus, would have been far too public. The same
problem would have arisen from taking a taxi. He had eventually convinced his
parents to loan him the car, telling them he had to run some errands. He had sat
in the parking lot for half an hour, too nervous to go in, but once he was
inside, the flashing lights and pounding music of the dance floor soon combined
with his first taste of alcohol to make his head feel like a helium balloon. But
even in his relaxed state of mind Peter couldn't bring himself to go out onto the
dance floor. He just sat in the darkest corner he could find, drank and watched
all the people around him chatting and dancing and enjoying themselves.
After a few glasses of beer he found himself making a rather hurried trip to the
bathroom to relieve his bladder. He failed to notice the lack of urinals as he
walked in and took the only unoccupied stall out of three. Hiking his skirt up he
did his business while the two other doors opened. When he was done and stepped
out he was shocked to find two women checking their make-up at the mirrors, at
this point it dawned on him that this was in fact the ladies room, and despite
his clothing, he was sure that he shouldn't be in there.
Seeing no less embarrassing alternatives, he walked up to the mirror, opened his
purse and started checking his make-up right along side them. When he looked in
the mirror he blushed at what he saw. It wasn't a man looking back at him, but it
wasn't a woman. It was a quite attractive, perhaps slightly over made-up, sissy
boy, obviously male but feminine enough to not look out of place in the clothing
he was wearing. The two women were very tolerant it turned out, one of them even
offering "Chantelle", as he was now calling himself when dolled up, a spritz of
her perfume.
When they left the bathroom Peter tried to retreat to his corner again but the
girls would have none of that. They insisted she come and sit with them at their
table, less than 10 feet from the dance floor. At first Peter was self conscious
about his very open location but within several minutes, the three of them were
chatting away like age old girlfriends, the rest of the bar forgotten, all the
while the girls referring to him by his female name.
As Chantelle sat there in a dazed cloud of liquor, excitement, and the feminine
scents of make-up and perfume, a strapping young gentleman approached and asked
him to dance. After a whirlwind introduction on the dance floor, they were soon
heading back to his two story townhouse for a bottle of wine on the balcony of
the master bedroom, and then back inside. The culmination of that night was a
complete and total disaster, and left Peter with the firm realization that
Chantelle was a lesbian.
Fortunately, some good did come of that evening, for one thing Peter knew for
certain that the desire to dress, and even to some degree act like a woman, did
not necessarily reflect the desire to be with a man sexually. And the girls he
met at the bar, Margery and Toni, ended up becoming two of his closest friends.
He later found out they were a couple. The three of them had even contemplated a
threesome with Chantelle at one point but they decided that might make their
relationship a bit awkward and so they simply remained close friends.
Another treasure of the bag was a fun, flirty party dress, but this one was a bit
more mature than the first. It was black with a soft raised rose pattern on it.
It was short only coming to his thighs, and had a sexy, low cut, off the shoulder
look that required a strapless bra, which fortunately, Peter had purchased after
Chantelle had acquired a number of wide shouldered or off the shoulder dresses.
This dress was special; it had been a birthday present from Margery, and Toni.
They had also had given him a beautiful sapphire necklace to wear with the dress.
The necklace was still at his house; real women loved jewelry like that, and his
new fianc?e would be no different.
Shortly after that birthday Peter had made an appointment for a makeover at an
actual salon, although he planned on neither perm or colour, he had scheduled
hairstyling, make-up, manicure, and then a photo session. He had gone as far as
taking the bus out to the salon, with a garment bag full of his favorite outfits,
however, when the bus arrived, he found he couldn't bring himself to get off at
the appropriate stop. Going to a gay bar was one thing, going into a salon filled
with real women, normal people who judged, and hated was an entirely different
matter. So instead, he merely stayed put and took the bus home. As he approached
home he started to feel his confidence returning, and his desire to see himself
as beautiful as he could be grew stronger. And so when the bus reached his home
stop he stayed put riding back to the stop near the salon.
In the half hour drive between points his mind worked and his confidence wavered
again. First off, what if the people at the Salon laughed at him? What if they
laughed and told him to get out? Or worse yet, what if they couldn't do it? What
if they gave him the works and he still didn't look like a woman? What if he came
out looking like a joke? He couldn't stand the idea of that happening. Or, what
if everything turned out okay, he looked good, still like himself but a female
version himself, and what if someone later found the pictures? What if someone at
the Salon recognized him? What if they told others that he had been there and
why? Then he would have guys coming after him to try and injure him or worse. Oh
there were just too many ways this could go wrong and not nearly enough good. By
the time they reached the Salon again, the idea of getting off the bus had Peter
a nervous wreck.
So he stayed put.
He rode the bus home and this time finally got off, leaving his appointment
unfulfilled.
The rest of the bag was filled with less significant clothing, a multitude of
skirts, blouses dresses, feminine style pants and shorts. Bras, slips, his garter
belt. The panty briefs, bikini's, and thongs were already elsewhere, in another
bag. Oh wonderful smooth, silky panties, with their sexy lace, and those erotic
little bows. And the thongs, with that naughty little piece of material slid up
between your cheeks, teasing you by rubbing your anus all day, something which,
despite his lack of interest in men, Peter still found very arousing. He would
certainly miss those.
"Well," Peter said to himself.
It looked as though he had finished his contemplating and mental checklist just
in time. In the distance he could see looming, two blocks away, the destination
of this bag; the bag containing every scrap of clothing Chantelle owned. The
bright blue of the sign sporting a huge lowercase g looking very much like 2/3 of
a smiley face, the Goodwill. That which comes from the sea shall one day return
to it.
He reminded himself this was for the best, it was in the interests of his long
term happiness with Sheila. They had met at the restaurant where they were both
servers and after working together for several months had arranged to go see a
movie with three of the other servers. But circumstances intervened and all three
canceled on them at the last minute leaving Peter and Sheila alone to watch one
of the most romantic movies of the year. Somewhere during the movie Peter reached
over and placed his hand on top of hers, and by the time either of them realized
it, she had taken his hand in her own. So they sat there through the movie,
holding hands, neither of them really knowing the other but both caught up in the
drama of the love affair on the screen.
That night they both laughed nervously about the incident while sitting in her
car outside his apartment, but they could still feel the magic of that moment,
teasingly about them, tempting them to give in to the urge and kiss. But they
both resisted, and after a promise to see if they still wanted to see more of
each other the next day, Sheila drove off leaving Peter on cloud nine as he
walked up the stairs to his apartment.
That night he had slept in his favorite blue nightie, and his head swam with the
memory of Sheila and the feeling of holding her hand in his own. He hadn't had
anything like it since his previous girlfriend had broken it off with him. It
took him many long hours before he was finally able to quiet his mind enough that
sleep was able to claim his weary body. And while his body rested the next day
found his mind equally groggy and fluff coated as when he had gone to bed.
Everything still had a rosy glow as he practically danced around his home getting
ready for work. When he got to work Sheila told him that she was still thinking
of the night before.
"It was one of the most romantic nights of my entire life, and I don't really
know why, but I feel comfortable with you. Something about it just feels right,"
she told him.
They agreed to continue dating and within a year and a half Peter had asked
Sheila to marry him. His first plan was to keep Chantelle a secret from Sheila,
but as time went on that idea lost it's appeal as his conscience nibbled away at
him, and he heard story after story on the Internet of men, just like him, who
had tried to do the same and when their wives found out, don't fool yourself they
always do, it almost always ended in divorce.
Then Peter's plan was to tell her about his feminine Alter-ego, however he was
continually haunted by flashbacks of his previous relationship, could he risk
loosing another sweet, caring, flesh and blood girl, just to hold onto a false
one? It seemed he had to choose, Sheila or Chantelle.
It wasn't an easy decision but in the end he realized it wasn't possible to go to
sleep and hold Chantelle in his arms, he couldn't kiss her good morning or feel
her hands massaging his shoulders when he was upset. She wasn't fully there for
him, he could see her, and feel her inside him, but that was all, and in the end
he wasn't sure that was enough to warrant jeopardizing a stable, affectionate
relationship.
And so, as he walked those last few blocks, Peter bid a silent goodbye to
Chantelle and prepared to make room for a new woman in his life, and a nice
normal life it would be.
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