Transition
- 3 years ago
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Transition free porn video
Keywords The Operation
Categories TG
Synopsis: John started life male and ended female. His transition has
been experienced by many. For John it was not fun -- not all that he
expected.
Transition
By Janet Baker
My divorce was finalized yesterday.
The registered letter came to my efficiency apartment this morning.
My life as I knew it was over.
I had to start anew.
I am so lonely.
I got what I wanted, I am now a woman. My transition is complete.
Months of operations and recovery were past, I was released from the
hospital and I returned home -- home? I took a cab from the airport to
what was my home, found the locks were changed. I rang. My wife and a
man answered the door. I was crushed. I fainted, fell to the ground.
When I awoke I was still on the ground. She -- my wife -- looked down
at me and said, "Yes John, we are through, this is no longer your home,
I am divorcing you. I am sorry. I did once love you -- when you were
my husband but you are now a woman. They shut the door in my face while
I lay on the front steps.
I rang again, he answered the door, said, "Well?"
I replied simply, "Please call a cab for me, I have no phone with me.
Thank you."
He looked at me, sympathetically, said, "Sorry, so sorry, yes I'll call
a cab for you. I am so sorry."
It all started when, believe it or not, I was about seven years old. I
found that I liked playing with dolls more fun than throwing a ball with
my daddy. I played with girls rather than boys. I even tried putting
on my sister's dress. I liked to see myself in the mirror. My daddy
caught me and spanked me.
As time went on I began to realize that my preference for girls and
girlish things resulted from a deep feeling that I was a sort of a girl.
I was made like a boy but I felt like a girl -- felt that I should be a
girl. I wanted to wear girls' clothes -- I tried to explain to my mommy
my feelings. She told my daddy -- he spanked me again -- and again,
trying to beat the girlishness out of me. Year after year I wrestled
with my confusion. Year after year I was beaten. I suffered with the
conflict between my growing masculinity and my deep seated feelings that
I should have been a girl. My mother loved me, I think. My father hated
me, I'm sure.
Puberty came and went and I was mostly male because I thought about
girls although frequently I found myself thinking about being a girl --
about dating a boy -- about making love as a girl. A virgin, I wondered
what it would be like.
I was a cute fellow, the girls liked me and being with the girls,
playing with the girls suited me. I dated, remained a virgin because, I
guess the masculine part of me was suppressed by my girl side and I was
never aggressive toward my dates. Maybe that's why the girls liked me -
- I was safe and nice to be with.
Ultimately marriage came upon me when I met a lovely young lady, a
fellow student at college. We were well matched. We married. We moved
into our first apartment, then later into our house. We both gave up
our virginity together -- stumbling but happy. It was new, this sex
thing. One of the things I liked about marriage was the pretty clothes
my wife wore. The old feelings returned and I felt drawn closer to her
things -- her pretty things -- her pretty lace trimmed panties, her
pretty dresses. I called them her 'pretties'.
As time went on, she would do the shopping and I was left at home and
passed more time with her pretty clothes. We weren't the same size so I
couldn't wear anything of hers but I wanted to... so I bought some
things -- panties, stockings, cami for myself. The first purchases were
fraught with fear as I entered a department store, ventured to the
women's section and selected a few pretty bits of clothing for myself.
I was drenched with sweat -- the experience was thrilling but terrifying
as I selected my first feminine clothing -- albeit just underthings.
I took them home and tried them on. The fit was good, I had researched
sizes carefully. I put on the panties, loving the smooth, silky
feeling. Same with the cami, I loved the feeling of the material
against my chest. The thigh high stockings were a joy to don. Dressed
in my few pretties, I finished dressing with my men's clothes and passed
the day feeling most girly.
My wife returned from shopping laden with groceries. After everything
was put away she came to me, hugged me and discovered that I had
something slippery on under my shirt. She pulled my shirt up out of my
trousers and found the cami. She was bemused more than shocked or
disturbed.
"What else do you have under there", she asked.
I confessed that I wore panties and stockings but that was all. We had
a long discussion about my feelings and what had brought me to this
point.
I confessed that through most of my life I'd occasionally had some
leanings toward girlishness but still felt largely male and, yes, here
we were married and having a successful marriage and sex life. She
wanted to learn more and suggested we visit a sex therapist.
An appointment with the therapist was most educational. We learned that
the transgender phenomenon was more common than one would expect and the
therapist (also a doctor) outlined the accepted reasons for this largely
male abnormality. The reasons weren't so important to me as was the
reality that I was not the only transgendered person in the world.
"What can we do about it?", my wife asked with some asperity. "I
married a man, not a... a... mutant."
She (the therapist) said, "You have choices. Live with his
crossdressing. Try to control the development of his dressing. In
other words, keep pressing him to remain in the closet, that is, not go
public with this aspect of his personality. I have seen couples divorce
because of dressing. I hope that it does not happen to you as you seem
to be a happy normal couple excepting the dressing of course. At the
extreme is transition leading to surgery to become a woman. It is
expensive, time consuming and painful, but it is an option. Basically
he is what he is and nothing can change it, but you can live with it."
My wife was very quiet for the next few days. Finally she sat with me
on our sofa and laid out a plan.
"I have given your -- our -- problem much thought. I love you John.
This... getting dressed... to me is silly, stupid and degrading. I
understand what the doctor told us but that doesn't mean I have to like
it. Go! Go do it! Go get dressed like a woman. I do have one caveat.
If you do it, do it well. If you want to look like, feel like a woman,
do it right. But do it at home, I'll not be humiliated by our friends
and neighbors knowing about your perversion."
I was speechless. I smiled, gratefully hugged and kissed my darling
Sandy.
"Sandy, I don't know where this will lead but I'm so happy that I have
your blessing."
"Sorry, John, you don't have my blessing, you have my tolerance and I
will ride you to make sure that you do your best to look good. We have
to shop now."
We shopped 'till we dropped. It was fun. She seemed to be content and
happily aided me in selecting proper clothing. Wigs and makeup were
going to be a problem so we put off buying wigs. Sandy was
uncomfortable with aiding me in makeup and told me to go to a beauty
salon in another city so no one would know me or connect me with her.
I did finally and it was a humiliating experience but I did learn about
makeup. I bought two wigs from a very helpful salesgirl in a wig shop.
The coloring reflected my own and the girl commented that should my own
hair grow out, the appearance would be almost the same, especially in
coloring. I wasn't sure that I wanted my hair to grow since this would
alter my appearance and I was sure my wife would object and I could
anticipate employment problems.
As time went on I dressed every night when I came home from work. My
wife generally ignored it, not looking at me but looking away even when
we were chatting about the days' events. Routinely I would dress and
then do some housework. My internal need to dress was largely
satisfied. I did occasionally feel the need to venture out but
suppressed the urge, knowing that it would cause an eruption with my
wife.
Weekends were wonderful, staying dressed the entire time save necessary
forays to buy necessities, groceries, fuel, etc.
The months passed and my wardrobe expanded, like most women's. I had
more pretty things than masculine clothes. At work I underdressed,
putting on panties, a camisole and maybe even stockings. All were well
concealed under my suit and tie. I had an outside sales job and needed
to wear a professional ensemble. Of course my tasseled loafers were the
most feminine thing I could wear and show. Wearing stockings with these
loafers felt almost girly. I almost swished when wearing them.
"John", she announced one day, "for the weekends from now on, I want you
to wear maids' dresses. Get used to it. I am going to host my bridge
club once a month from now on, and so you don't have to hide or leave I
want you to look and feel like a maid, and I want you to serve. None of
these ladies and men know you so there won't be an identity problem. It
will also give you an opportunity to wear makeup in an attempt to really
pass as a woman. I know that you'll love it since you can buy and dress
in some really cute things and in those high heels you love so well.
Also John, if someone comes to the door you won't have to run and hide.
I am tired of covering for you. Oh, and John, I want you to buy one or
so of those French maid dresses. You'll look so cute", she added
sarcastically.
What transgendered man has not thought at least once of performing as a
cute little French maid dressed prettily in a black satin maid's dress,
ruffled panties, petticoat, cap, gloves, stockings and finally the pi?ce
de r?sistance, the erotic patent pumps with ankle straps? I was
thrilled and eagerly set about buying these treasures. I was in fact
delighted to find that my wife was beginning to more than just tolerate
my dressing, she was actually aiding my progress in developing my
feminine persona. I wondered if I should be suspicious about her
seeming acceptance.
A few weeks later my costume was complete. I dressed after work and
presented myself for my wife when she arrived home. I had completed my
makeup, arranged my wig, put on some jewelry, even added perfume. She
inspected me, smiled and pronounced me 'acceptable'.
"This weekend, John, I'm hosting the bridge game Sunday afternoon. I
want you to aid me in setting up for the games and I want you to serve.
You will be announced as 'Julie' and you'll be summoned by this little
bell. When your presence is not required, you'll wait in the kitchen.
When my guests arrive and depart you'll help with their coats. After
the last guest has left, you'll clean up. I think that you'll enjoy the
afternoon, it should suit your servility and give you a chance to show
your expertise at posing as a woman. Some day if you do well enough, I
may take you out in public -- as my maid perhaps,
or possibly dressed as a friend, shopping together. We'll see."
"Sandy, I don't feel servile, I just feel happy to do this for you, I
appreciate being dressed like this with your approval and I'll be
delighted to serve at you bridge game. It'll really be a pleasure, not
a punishment. I love you and I'm so grateful that you're accepting my
dressing."
"John, you know I'm not in favor of your dressing but since the
therapist says we can't work it out of you, we have to live with it and
that's what I'm trying to do. You have cleaning to do, John. I'm going
shopping. I'll return later and we'll have dinner. You can prepare
dinner for us. Oh, yes, John, when you're dressed, I'll call you Julie.
It makes no sense calling a woman 'John'."
She returned from her shopping trip carrying a few parcels. I put the
groceries away and asked her what took so long for so few things -- she
had been gone all afternoon. She replied that she consumed much time in
finding a few very important items for my persona.
"Julie, come with me, you have to change clothes."
"OK, but what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"Nothing except that your chest is flat. I have a cure for that."
I went to our bedroom and undressed, waiting for instructions.
"John, here is a bra for you and breast forms. You must have a proper
chest appearance to complete your costume. I think that satin maid's
dress will now look perfect and you'll be perfect for the bridge game",
she smirked.
I was too happy to be wary or suspicious. I was simply thrilled at her
acceptance and at my appearance. I was beginning to really look like a
woman.
That weekend.
"Julie, the guests, some men, mostly ladies, will be arriving shortly.
You know what to do, but most important for your security, keep your
voice down. Speak very quietly, your voice is too masculine to fool
everyone. We must do something about it. We'll talk with your
therapist next week, but until then be careful."
"OK Sandy, I'll do my best."
I was grateful for her help and forbearance and as such I smiled through
the bridge game, kept my voice low and helped as much as I could. Being
dressed throughout was an absolute delight. My youthful fantasies of
dressing were achieved and I felt quite feminine. I had no idea what
could be done about my voice except some sort of training. I wondered
what the therapist could offer.
Sandy and I went to the therapist's office, presented the problem --
voice -- and asked what could be done. She suggested that with
considerable training my voice could be altered and I might achieve a
result that could fool people. An alternative would be a minor laser
tweak to my vocal cords to increase the level of my voice, making it
somewhat more feminine. This would be an absolute fix and easily done
but I was concerned about what impact this voice change would have on my
professional life.
"Sandy, I'm worried about what impact the voice change will have
jobwise."
"John, I don't think there would be a problem, many men have higher
voices than yours. I see no problem at all, in fact I think I'll like
your new higher voice. Please try it John. Also John, it'll go so well
with your dressing. I'm sure that I'll like it", she said soothingly.
"OK, Sandy, let's do it", I agreed enthusiastically. I felt myself
moving towards womanhood but was afraid that my wife would be turned off
if I went too far too fast. Also, when I reflected on it, I wondered if
I was doing the right thing by embracing this change. Did I really want
to be a woman? At times I wasn't sure. I was sure that Sandy would
object - she'd married a man. 'For better or for worse' surely did not
envision a sex change, especially a voluntary sex change.
The voice change was satisfactory, my level was raised somewhat and no
one made any negative comments.
We talked now and then about where this dressing would lead. One
evening as we relaxed in front of the TV, Sandy asked me what my plans
were regarding dressing. "Julie" -- I was dressed in a little black
cocktail dress - "how far do you intend to take this dressing? Do you
want to be a woman?"
"No, I don't believe I want to be a woman, I enjoy dressing and I found
that passing as a woman was very pleasant. I really liked serving at
your bridge games. But I love you and I don't want to do anything that
would change our relationship -- our marriage. But do you love me?
Would you love me if I were to transition to womanhood?"
She thought a while and answered slowly and thoughtfully. "Yes John --
Julie -- I would still love you but our marriage would obviously change.
If you were a woman what about our sex life? Children? How would I
become pregnant after your change?"
"Yeah, there is no doubt that our life would change. On a practical
level, there are things we could do. Sperm could be saved for children.
There are many sex aids that could provide you with sexual pleasure. I
assume that if I were woman I could also be pleasured similarly. That's
funny, we'd become lesbian lovers."
"That does not please me Julie. I married a man. I like sex with you
as John -- as a man. I could still love you but there would likely be
no sex between us. I am only heterosexual, I have never had any
inclination toward a relationship with another woman."
"But Sandy, what would you -- we -- do for sex? Would you want to give
up sex if I ever went that far into womanhood?"
"Good question, Julie. I get so damned confused with your dual persona,
I don't know if I should address you as John or Julie. I just don't
know. I'm not obsessed with sex as many people are but how could we
live together as man and wife if you became a woman? Can't you just
keep this thing under control and limit your compulsion to simple
dressing? Otherwise we could never have friends over for a party or
simple get together. I'm not going to endure the humiliation of
introducing you to people as my husband who is now a woman. It's bad
enough having you dress but we can control it to a large extent."
The Winds Shift
Weeks turned into months. Our sex life diminished -- seriously. I
became more enamored of my dressing and my appearance and Sandy became
more accepting.
I thought increasingly of changing my appearance to look more womanly.
I considered breast enhancement. My forms were fine but real breasts
would be so much nicer -- so real. I went to my therapist without
Sandy. I discussed my concerns -- my increasing desire to become a
woman. She prescribed the regimen required to bring me to the point of
surgical transition. She cautioned me that my sex life would change. I
recounted how our sex life had already changed. Sandy was reluctant to
bed me when I was dressed, which was almost always, and I, being
thrilled with my dressing, was less inclined to pursue sex with her.
Oddly however, Sandy seemed more accepting of my Julie persona and even
encouraged my progress. We frequently went out together as women to do
the shopping, and as I became more womanly in my dress, figure, and
performance we started shopping locally. From time to time we would
meet some of her friends and I would be introduced as Julie. We even
started going out to dinner as women. I passed so well that I don't
believe I was ever 'made'.
The months passed with my femininity becoming more pronounced. My
supervisor called me into the human resources office and he and the HR
officer asked me what the hell was going on. They told me that my
changes were becoming obvious, and even some clients were asking
questions. I said that I was in transition to become a woman. I
shocked myself by saying it, since I was not sure I wanted to change.
Their response however convinced me that I should continue. They told
me that I would be accepted as my new person and that a sales job for a
woman would be available for me. They asked when I planned to do the
SRS. They were both aware of what was required. I answered that I had
not yet planned a date but would let them know when I made arrangements.
A Deadly Calm
That night I told Sandy what had transpired at work including my
statement that I was in transition. She was shocked. Wordlessly she
rose and went to our bedroom. I remained seated, wondering....
She returned later.
"So you decided to go ahead with this... this... without asking me.
Without thinking of me. Without thinking of our marriage. How could
you be so thoughtless?"
"I'm sorry, Sandy, it just seemed to happen. Month after month I
evolved I guess from what I was to what I am. It came to a head when my
management called me in and asked my intentions. I... just... told them
that I was in transition. Their response was so encouraging that I was
relieved and also felt trapped by my own words."
"Well, you go right ahead and do your thing -- do your SRS -- we'll cope
somehow. I love you. We'll survive."
The Operation
After consulting with my employer, I started dressing full time. My
sales position worked out well. I did well as a woman, still using the
name Julie. Sandy seemed to accept my new persona but our sex life
diminished to almost nothing.
I continued with my regimen continuing toward womanhood, finally making
arrangements for SRS. I went to Thailand for cost reasons and returned
a few months later. Recovery was slow and painful, requiring regular
dilation so the new vagina would not heal and close.
Epilogue
A week after I returned and was turned away from my own home by Sandy
and a somewhat more sympathetic man, I tried again. I drove to my old
home one evening and knocked on the door. When Sandy answered, I asked
if I could come in and talk, since we had some loose ends to resolve. I
needed some papers, birth certificates, etc. to reconstruct my life.
She and her new man admitted me this time, and we sat and talked. We
finished the technical aspects first and then I ventured to ask Sandy
why she had deserted me, since she had told me she loved me.
"Julie, I did care for you but simply put, I married a man. You are now
a woman. I want a divorce so I can remarry. I am sorry this happened
but you deserted me. You left me to change your sex. I can no longer
live with you. I no longer want anything to do with you. I no longer
care for you."
"I understand Sandy. I am also sorry this occurred but I seemed to have
had no control over it. It is as though I was born wrong and have
finally been fixed to the detriment of both of us. I will cooperate
with a no fault divorce and bother you no more although I hope we can
remain friends."
"I doubt it Julie, I don't want to see you again. I have a new life and
will have a new husband. Good bye Julie."
End
© Janet Baker
Jerri
- 01.09.2021
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