The Gold Dress free porn video

It was the summer I was 17, and I had just finished school. Both my parents were at work, and both my younger brothers still had school. But since my exams were finished, I was on holidays. During the day I was free to hang around the house alone, and do what I wanted. We were quite a happy family. I felt like we were always blessed with good health, and reasonable wealth. My parents both had good jobs and were able to afford a big house. In fact, back then, my parents were the only people I knew who had a walk-in robe. That walk-in robe held a particular fascination for me. When I was young, it was a great place for hide-and-seek. When I was a little older, I had discovered that it was the place where my parents hid the Christmas gifts. And so, home alone, I was exploring it again today. I didn't really expect any Christmas presents to be in there yet, but I still felt like exploring it. There was something fascinating about a little room entirely devoted to clothes. I walked in and looked. One thing I had never realised before, was that at least 2/3 of it was devoted to women's clothes. I guess women needed more choice in clothes than men, though I'd never thought about that before. But then, I noticed that a lot of the dresses looked really old. Even to my untrained eye, I could tell that some of them were very old fashioned. Some were conservative mid 20th century dresses, and some were gaudy 60s and 70s colours. The strange thing was that I'd never seen my mother wear any of them. I guess she just kept them rather than throw them out. In fact, I wondered if some of them were passed down from her mother or even her grandmother. I knew that my mother, like her mother and grandmother before her, had no sisters. So it made sense that all the female clothes were passed down to my grandmother, and then to my mother. It seems that my mother was the sole inheritor of at least 3 generations of female clothing. My mother's mother was still alive, but had recently moved into a smaller house. I wouldn't be surprised if my mother had taken some of her mother's dresses at that time, rather than throw them out. There were all sorts of dresses. I must admit I was a bit fascinated, because dresses allowed women a lot more variety in what they wore, than men. There were short casual dresses, long ball gowns, and some that looked like they were for business. I found a couple of very bright dresses which must have been someone's formal (Australia version of prom) dresses. Further back, I found a wedding dress. I recognised it from my parents' wedding photo. Then next to it another, older, wedding dress. And next to that, yet another one. Three generations of wedding dresses, I was sure. And as I looked around at all the dresses, a thought came over me: why don't I try one on? I don't know why that thought came to me, but the dresses were all so pretty, they were enticing. I had the urge to try one on, just to see how I looked. Although I was fairly tall, I was sure I could squeeze into one my mother's dresses if I was careful. I knew no one else would be home for hours. I walked out of the closet, and pulled shut the bedroom curtains, so there was no chance of any neighbour even accidentally seeing what I was up to. I stripped down to my underpants, and looked around for a dress to wear. Eventually I settled on a blue summer dress. It looked like something my mother might have worn what she was younger. I started to pull it on, but quickly realised that this was not going to work. I may not be muscular, but I already had a broader chest than my mother, and the dress was extremely tight around my chest. So I carefully pulled it off again, and hung back it up. I stood there in the closet in my underwear, slightly disappointed. I found a floral skirt, and put that on. At least with a skirt, getting it on was not a problem. I guess that's because women have wider hips than men, I reasoned. But the wearing a skirt only, the effect was disappointing. Without anything on the top half of my body, I was just a guy in loincloth, albeit a long floral loincloth. Boring. So I took the skirt off and hung that up too. Then, in the back corner of the closet, I noticed a flash, a glimmer. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but a dress with a bit of gold on it seemed to be glowing for me. Carefully I reached for it and took it down. I looked at it in wonder. It was a gold coloured dress, in a very old fashion, probably 19th century Victorian, with big sleeves, a narrow waist, and a huge skirt. But despite its age, it was somehow incredibly beautiful. It looked, if anything, slimmer than the blue summer dress. Yet suddenly I felt an incredible desire to put it on. I carefully took it off the hanger, and tried to get into it, head first. I was right: the gold dress was pretty narrow on the waist and shoulders. But I persisted and pulled it over my head. Somehow I got it down over my shoulders without ripping it. And there I was, for the first time in my life, wearing a dress. I walked out and looked at myself in my Mum's mirror. There was something magical about the dress - it didn't look as ridiculous on me as I thought it would. True, I looked like a boy in a dress that was too short for me, and I felt really constricted around my shoulders and arms. But the shape of the dress, especially the large skirt, gave the illusion of curves. It was quite loose around the chest area, with the folds of the dress giving the impression that I had boobs. After I adjusted it and I looked up again, I was surprised to find that the skirt was almost touching the floor. I was sure the dress had been a little short before. But now, as I looked in the mirror again, I realised that the length was just right. I guess the large skirt must have settled into position after a few seconds. I patted the sides of the skirt, where my hips were, and I was also surprised that there wasn't much padding in the skirt. I had been sure the curvy hips had been an illusion. But as it turned out, I really did have a bit of a curve. I guess the tight waist, and the fact I was in a dress, made it seem that the dress suited me. Maybe that's why girls wear dresses - that they make them seem curvier than they are. Although, I had to admit, the waist didn't feel tight anymore. Was I really that thin in the waist? I guess I was. Were my hips really that much wider than my waist? The dress certainly made it look like they were. As I was pondering that, I realised that the dress also wasn't as tight around the shoulders as it had been when I put it on. I flexed my arms and realised that it fit around my shoulders quite well. How could that be? But it definitely wasn't tight. I could move my arms freely. I also noticed that the sleeves weren't as tight around my arms. I looked at my arms and my arms looked... different. Thinner. Less hair. Was I imagining this? I looked at my hands. They too seemed slightly smaller, or was I imagining it? And my nails were smooth, round and a little long. I didn't remember that! Thin, hairless arms, and small, dainty hands. Was this my imagination? I looked down at myself, and I saw the shape of boobs underneath the dress. I was sure they were just the folds in the dress. But as I watched, they seemed to be, ever so slightly, pushing out. Was this possible? But as I stared, I was sure my chest was pushing out a tiny bit more. What was going on? I felt, and it wasn't just the folds in the dress. The protrusions weren't just folds - they were solid. But not too solid - they were also a little soft, almost squishy. Most strange of all, my chest could actually feel my hand. As my hand felt and poked the softness of my chest, my chest could feel it. For the first time, I began to worry that something was going on. I looked inside the dress and couldn't believe my eyes. There were shapes appearing on my chest, there was no denying it. I could see the skin on my chest and it curved out in two places. The only word I could think of to describe it was "boobs". Boys don't have boobs, but the shape was exactly like that of two boobs. Nothing else had that shape. I gasped, and realised my voice didn't sound right. "What, I sound like this?" I said out loud. "No way, no way" I said in a soft voice. My voice was higher. Like a... like a girl's. I reached under the neckline of the dress and looked as I felt the skin on my chest. This time there was no other possible explanation. Not only could I see the shape of boobs, I could also feel them: I touched the left mound, and I could feel it. It was a boob, there was no escaping it. Why am I growing boobs? My thoughts were interrupted when I felt movement around my hips and groin. "Oh no!" I said out loud. I reached down to my crotch. I felt through the folds of the dress with some difficulty. I was relieved to feel that my penis was there. But I had to reach under to be sure. With some difficulty, I put a hand up under the dress, and felt up my leg. My penis was there, phew! But as I felt my scrotum, it didn't feel right. My balls were smaller. No, my balls weren't just smaller, they were tiny. They were half the size that I remembered. And then, right then, while my hand was there, the balls seemed to just melt away. In my fingers, one of my balls seemed to vanish. After maybe a minute, I felt around and couldn't feel them at all. And as I continued to feel through my underpants, my scrotum pulled closer and closer to my body. Eventually, my scrotum was gone. In its place, I could feel a slight indentation underneath me where my scrotum had been. What the hell was going on? I began hyperventilating, crying, and wailing, "No, no, no, it can't be, it can't be...". Even in my distressed state I could tell that my voice was way too high. Impossibly high. I had a girl's voice. In panic, I reached further forward for my penis. There it was, but it was tiny, maybe an inch and half long. I put my hand inside my underpants and grabbed it in desperation. By the time I got to it, it was even shorter than an inch. It was so small I could only hold it between my thumb and index finger. I kept hyperventilating, crying and sobbing. I held onto it in desperation trying to halt the inevitable. But it continued to shrink, drawing in towards my body, pulling my thumb and index finger with it. After another minute or so, I felt folds of flesh touching my thumb and index finger from the outside. I then realised that my penis had somehow retracted to inside my body in some sense. It was now just a little nub, maybe half a centimetre (1/5 of an inch) long. I continued to hold it, and I noticed that at least it wasn't pulling in any further. Had it stopped? Had I saved my penis? Or was it still a penis even? I looked back up at myself in the mirror. What I saw was a girl, there was no denying it. Her face was still mine, but it was softer, rounder, prettier. My chin was far less pronounced. My stubble was gone and my face was smooth. My hair had grown down to my shoulders. My arms were thinner. And even through the bulky dress, I could see that I had boobs, and my hips were wider. I lifted up the dress to look at my crotch. Then, trembling, I pulled down my underpants. If I still had a penis, there was no sign of it. I had a neat little bush, and I looked exactly like a girl. I felt inside the folds to see if I could find my penis again. It was still there, but it was deep within the folds. Then I realised. This was no penis. This was a clitoris. To any observer, I was no longer male in any way. I had boobs and a vulva, and my penis had become my clitoris. By any conventional definition, that made me a girl. Somehow the dress had turned me into a girl. What was I to do? Then I thought of something. It was so obvious: remove the dress! So I took off the dress, and dropped it on the floor. I also took off my underpants. Then I stood there, a naked girl in front of the mirror. I hoped and prayed that I would change back, and waited. Nothing happened. "Maybe I have to put boys' clothes back on," I decided. So I got dressed. I pulled my underpants back up. I put my T shirt on, and it was now very loose around my narrow shoulders. I pulled my pants up, although they were far too long. They were also very tight around my hips, but I managed. Still nothing. Just to be sure, I also put my shoes back on, even though they now seemed about 3 sizes too small. Still no change. What was I to do? I decided there was nothing for it but to return to my room. Perhaps distance from the gold dress would help. So I hung up the dress, putting it in the back of the walk-in robe where I found it. Then I returned to my room, and waited. Waiting and hoping, in vain, for the magic to reverse itself. While waiting, I felt my shape. The boobs were kind of interesting. Soft, smooth, and just a little sensitive. But strangest of all was my groin area. My vulva, I guess it was. To run my hand over that area and feel nothing protruding was the weirdest, most alien feeling of my life. The whole area was surprisingly soft and squishy. Even the area around the opening - I guess this was the mons veneris - was all a little squishy, and kind of nice to touch. I could even push my finger into the opening slightly. I felt again my former penis, which was now my clitoris. Then I felt further down and found my inner lips, containing my vagina. It was difficult to get a finger in, but I knew there was a vagina there. Eventually I thought, if I'm going to stay in my room, I'd better go to the toilet before anyone else gets home. I went in, and sat as I knew women did. Eventually I relaxed in the right way and pee came trickling out. Afterwards I felt all wet around my vagina. "Is this what girls have to put up with all the time?", I thought. I wiped myself until it seemed to be dry, and I returned to my room. My pants were still very tight around my hips, so I looked around for something else to wear. Eventually I realised my pyjama bottoms would work, because they were quite loose with an elastic waist. That gave me idea. I got into my pyjama top as well. At least until I worked out how to reverse this, I'd be able to hide from my family by pretending to be sick in bed. But then, I thought, what if I need to wait until tomorrow? So I went down to the kitchen to get some food and drink. As I walked, the jiggling of my breasts was impossible to ignore. Even stranger was the total lack of jiggling down below: nothing jiggling, nothing between my legs, just my thighs rubbing against each other. Anyway, I got a bottle of water and a few snacks. That should last me until tomorrow. ***** Eventually my brothers came home from school. I stayed in my room with my door shut. After a while, my youngest brother Steve knocked on the door. "Paul, do you want do to something?" "No," I called out in way too high voice. I tried to lower it. "No, I'm not feeling well." Wow, my voice didn't sound right and Steve knew it. "Paul, are you ok?" I tried a very husky voice, like I had a bad throat. "No, I think I'm sick. I've been in bed all afternoon. Just leave me." Steve didn't seem entirely convinced, and opened the door. I was in bed, lying on my side with the covers up around the top side of head, covering the long hair. "See" I hissed, "I'm not well." Steve now was convinced it was me, and left. Later on I heard my parents come home: first my dad and then later my mum. I could hear Steve tell my mum I wasn't well. Then I heard steps, and my mum knocking on my door. "Paul?" I didn't answer. "Paul, are you awake?" I decided I might as well say something, "Yes," I croaked. Mum opened the door. "Paul, are you alright?" "I'm... I'm not feeling well Mum." "Can I see you Paul?" she said, and walked closer. "No..." She pulled the sheet off my head. "Mum!" I said in a shrill voice. In my shock I forgot to do the husky voice, and I sounded nothing like a boy, but exactly like a girl. Furthermore, she had caught a glimpse of my longer hair. I could see her thinking. It was like a light bulb had gone off in her head. "Paul, could you sit up please?" Nervously I sat up, with covers pulled up to my chin. "Could you lower the sheets so I can see you?" Slowly, nervously, I lowered the sheets, and I saw her looking closely. She looked at my face and hair. Then her gaze lowered, and she was looking intently at my chest. I looked down, and realised that, in my pyjamas, my new boobs were very obvious. I looked up from my chest and our eyes met. She knew. "Paul, have you been in my closet?" I didn't answer. "You tried on the gold dress, didn't you?" That question rocked me. How could I deny it. I nodded, and began to cry. She came over and gave me hug. "That's ok sweetie. You just stay in bed. I'll come back and help you after dinner." ***** I waited for what seemed like hours. Mum knew something... but what did she know? Over and over I would feel myself, hoping for a change, but nothing changed. However much I rubbed my crotch - and I must admit it felt nice - it stayed smooth. My clitoris did not grow back into a penis. My boobs stayed. My hair stayed long. My voice stayed high. Eventually, about 8pm, Mum came into my room, and closed the door. She was carrying a strange, ancient looking box. It looked even older than the gold dress. "Paul, can I turn the light on?" "OK," I said in a high voice, without any attempt to lower it. She turned it on. "Well Paul, you can get out of bed if you want. I know what happened. Well - I don't know the details. But I know that the gold dress changed you. Would you like to tell me what happened?" So I told her. I told her how I'd just been looking in her closet out of curiosity, and that the gold dress seemed to be calling me. I didn't mention the other things I'd tried on first - there didn't seem any point. I told her that somehow, as far as I could tell, the dress changed me into a girl. "How is that possible? Magic?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "I am a witch, and I have some magical items. That gold dress... it's magical, and it's been in our family a long time." "So, if you can do magic... you can change me back?" Mum paused. "No, that's beyond my magic..." she began. "What, what do you mean, 'no'? How can I be stuck like this??" I screamed the words, and then began to cry. "How, how? How am I going to cope?" "You will cope, Paul." "But I liked being a boy! I liked being strong. I liked... well you wouldn't understand, but I liked being a boy. I liked having... I liked having a... boys' dick." I cried some more. "Paul, you will cope. It's your destiny, and you will manage." "How do you know, you wouldn't understand." "I do understand Paul." "How could you, you're a girl!" "Because Paul," she gently held my head and looked into my eyes, "because the same thing happened to me." I was stunned. "What?" "Yes, Paul. I was a boy until I was 15. Until I tried on the gold dress." It took me a few seconds to process this. My mother had once been a boy? It was impossible! My mother had always been the woman in my life. My mother defined femininity to me. She was as feminine as any woman or girl I knew. How could she had ever been a boy? That was crazy! But then, I thought, what had happened to me was also crazy. "Yes, I used to be Andy Davis. Then one day I when I was 15, I tried on the gold dress, and I magically became Anne Davis. Until I met and married your father and became Anne Smith". She went on. "It's a family curse. Many years ago, during the 19th century, my great-great grandmother was put under a curse. Back then, some male wizards felt threatened by female magic. They discovered that witches practised this magic and that this power passed to their daughters." "So they put a curse was on her, so that she said she would only bear sons, not daughters. The same curse was put on every young witch they could find, in an effort to stamp out female magic." "But my great-great grandmother thought of an ingenious way out. She bought the gold dress, and enchanted it. The spell she placed was that the first of her sons to put the dress on would inherit her powers, by magically transforming into a woman." "And so the curse was bypassed. One of her sons put on the gold dress, magically transforming into her daughter, and inheriting her magic." "But when that daughter - my great-grandmother - inherited the magic, she also inherited the curse. This was something my great-great grandmother hadn't thought of, until she saw my great-grandmother only having sons. So to preserve the magical line, this dress has stayed in the family. In every generation, one boy tries on the dress and is magically turned into a girl, and inherits the magical powers. I am the 4th generation to inherit magic from the dress. And now, you are the 5th." "You mean... I'm stuck like this?" "I wouldn't say stuck dear, I'd say privileged. You have become that most wondrous of God's creation: a woman." "And the magic line in the family has passed to you. I've already phoned my mother and told her. She's very excited!" "Well at least someone is," I grumbled. I thought for a bit more. "What sort of magic?" "It's not earth shattering magic I admit - it won't give you the lottery numbers and it won't cure cancer. But it can fix little things, and make life a little easier. And a little more interesting. I'll teach you, and perhaps grandma will help teach you too." "I'll even show you how to make a love potion, if there's a boy you like one day." "A boy??" "Yes dear, a boy. One of the spell's actions is to make you attracted to men. You need to be, to become a mother yourself one day." "A mother??" "Well yes, of course. To continue the magic line. One day you yourself will marry and have sons. And then, later on, one of those sons will try on the dress and become your daughter. That is how the magic line continues." "But... how will I manage? Everyone thinks I'm a boy. I'll be teased mercilessly." "No you won't honey. Once I've completed the magic, it will alter people's memories. No one else will know you were once a boy. No one except you, me, and your grandmother. Even other family members will think you've always been a girl. Even your father." I thought. "Did you use a love potion on him?" I asked. "Yes," she smiled. "But I'm not sure I needed to. The magic turned me into a very attractive young lady. And if you don't mind me saying, it seems to have done the same for you." I blushed, and reluctantly smiled a little. "Well then, it's time to complete the magic. Stand up for me will you?" I got out of bed and stood next to her. No longer did I tower over my mother - we were pretty well eye to eye. She got some powder and made a circle around me on the floor. "Now dear, what would you like your new name to be?" "Well... since I'm Paul, I guess Paula would be easiest." "Paula Jane then? From Paul James Smith to Paula Jane Smith?" I shrugged. "That's as good as any." "Ok then..." She took out a wand. She got out a book, and read from it in a language I couldn't recognise. The room seemed to rain sparkles for several minutes. Once it stopped, I realised the decor had changed completely. All my model cars, most of my sports gear, all the blue decor - gone. It was replaced with largely pink decor, and all sorts of girly stuff on my desk. I saw with relief that there was still a basketball, so it looked like I still played that. "We're done darling. Welcome to your new life as Paula." We kept talking for a while longer. She showed me a few things about female clothing, and also how to handle (gulp) female hygiene. Afterwards, I followed her down to the lounge room. Everyone was still up, and no one seemed in the least surprised to see their daughter and sister Paula. ***** Well that was 20 years ago. I won't pretend that it was easy to adapt. After 17 years of being male and enjoying, suddenly I was a girl. After 17 years of peeing with a penis, suddenly I didn't have one, and had to sit to pee every time. After 17 years of being flat-chested, I had boobs on my chest which I was constantly reminded of. They were only B cup, to me they seemed huge. They were always in the way, bouncing when I tried to run, impossible to ignore. After 15 years of being the big brother, overnight I became shorter than by 15 year old brother, and it wasn't long before my youngest brother towered over me too. Compared to how I had been, I was shorter, weaker, more vulnerable. My voice seemed better suited to a small child. Everything about me said, "weak and vulnerable." I was a small, vulnerable woman, in a man's world. Not only could I not pee standing, I could no longer jack off. In recent times I had discovered the joy of doing that. Every morning in the shower I would enjoy stroking myself and shooting my load, and dreaming of the day I would push my penis inside a woman and shoot my seed into her. Now that would never happen. I would never be the man, and I would never get to experience that. Now my destiny was now to be the one who let the man inside me, and shoot his load into me. Mum did teach me some magic but, to be honest, I thought it was all pretty lame. I could change and fix little things, and sometimes saved myself a little work, but it was nothing wonderful. Mum assured me I was carrying the family line and one day this magic would be used for something great. But to me, it was boring and trivial. I'd rather have my penis back and my strength back. Why was did I have to be so weak and vulnerable? As my mother had said, I was suddenly transformed into an attractive girl. Not only did my boobs get in the way, but they were some sort of boy magnet. I got constant attention from the boys, although I tried my best to avoid and resist it. But eventually, in my 20s, I caught the intention of a particularly nice young man called Darren. And it was at that stage I thought, I might as well embrace my destiny, because he was one of the kindest and most interesting men I'd ever met. I also grudgingly acknowledged that he was pretty damn hot. So we began dating. Darren really was incredibly sweet to me and obviously loved me. Eventually he proposed to me. Did I love him back? I wasn't sure. But I had accepted by now that my destiny was to marry, have children, and be the secret purveyor of magic in the family. I also knew I'd never do any better, and that Darren truly was a wonderful man who would treat me well. So I said yes. As the marriage approached, I still wasn't sure. So I used the love potion... on myself. And that swept away any doubts I had about him. Every time I saw him my heart would skip a little, and I would even sometimes feel a little wet in my vagina just thinking about him. And so the day came: we got married. I can't have imagined it a decade earlier, but there I was: a beaming bride in a white wedding dress, a picture of femininity. No one but me, my mother and my grandmother would have dreamed I had ever been male. We waited until marriage to have sex. Partly due to religious beliefs, but also partly because I was in no rush to do it. So on my wedding night I once again gave myself a dose of the love potion, just to be sure. It worked wonders. I was nervous as we undressed, but it was not hard to get turned on when I saw how much he liked my breasts. And he was so gentle touching them. Those breasts, which had been nothing but an annoyance for so long, were finally giving me pleasure. Finally I was glad to have them, glad to have something which made Darren adore and lust for me. Of course it had been many years since I'd had an erection or jacked off as a teenage boy, but I recognised a lot of the feelings that were building in my body. There was the building excitement. There was the stirring in my groin, and even a slight swelling down there. Nothing like the swelling I experienced in a male erection of course. Instead, I felt an oozing as I got wetter and wetter. As an aroused boy, I had got hard. As an aroused woman, my female area became wet and soft. When I saw his erect penis, I must admit my first thought was envy, wishing I still had one. Yet somehow, that envy, that realisation that I was the submissive and weaker one, made me even wetter and more excited. Eventually I laid back and spread my legs for him, wanting nothing more than his hard penis inside me. When he finally pushed in, I had to admit it felt wonderful. Perhaps, finally, I was embracing my destiny to carry on the female line in my family. 2 years after that, I became pregnant. I didn't tell Darren, but I knew it would be a boy. I felt the miracle of a new human growing inside me, and reminded myself this is something I could never have been able to do as a man. Later, I felt the wonder of a baby sucking milk from my own breasts. As I sat there with the baby sucking, I had a revelation. Here was something I could never have done before, and something which no man can do. Not only can I grow a baby, but I can feed and nourish a baby. It was a power no man had. And so, as I looked at my beautiful son and pondered this, I was finally content in my womanhood. For so long I had felt I was missing out by not having a penis. But those breasts, which had simply gotten in the way for so long, were now doing something wondrous. It was no longer what I didn't have (a penis), but what I had: I was a woman. I had breasts and a vagina, and they were life-giving. ***** So that brings us to today. I am still happily married to Darren, and we now have 3 young sons: Nathan, who's 10; Jack, who's 8; and Keith, who is 5 and has just started school. I am happy as a woman, happy as a mother to three beautiful boys. I just finished baking cookies for them. I worked a little household magic to flavour them individually: chocolate for Nathan, caramel for Jack, and chocolate chip for Keith. There's going to be home from school any minute now. They will play their crazy boy games like they always do. I love them so much. But today I was going through the closet, and I saw the gold dress again. So as I finish writing my story, I think again of Nathan, Jack, and Keith, and I wonder: One day, when it happens... which of my sons will be the one to try on the gold dress? The End. ********** Inspired by "The Last Temptation of Jeff" by amandahawkins71 on DeviantArt http://amandahawkins71.deviantart.com/art/Last-Temptation-of-Jeff- 611684217