Feminisation
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Feminisation free porn video
Feminisation:
I was the son of a man's man. My Dad had set up his own business, which
had to be different from the business his father had set up. His father
was also a proudly "self-made man". I didn't know it then but Dad was the
sort of man people these days call a domineering father. I knew nothing
else. I just called him Dad.
At home my Dad commanded and the rest of us did what we were told. My
home was very much a man's house as apart from my Dad I had two brothers.
Dad, although nominally a socialist, sent the three of us away to a
single sex boarding school which was hardly consistent with his professed
desire for a utopian socialist state. You see school was very much an
establishment and conservative school. My classmates came from moneyed
backgrounds and had double-barrelled surnames. In sending us to this
school Dad clearly wanted us to have friends who were the leaders of the
society we were living in so that if we did not set up our own businesses
like him we would, at the very least, not be failures because we had
grown up with people who had succeeded.
The only women we saw at school were the dinner ladies and the Matron.
(A matron is a form of school nurse.) Despite the fact that my classmates
were always saying things like "it's a man's world" and making remarks
about Matron being "past her sell by date" and about the dinner ladies
being "slags" I always thought there was something abnormal about my
school environment.
I hated it.
I refused to believe that all women were either past their sell by dates
or slags and dreamt of a life outside boarding school as I suspect a
prisoner dreamt of life outside prison.
I was very much a loner or outsider at school. Other boys hung round in
groups, or so I thought. I thought of the groups I was outside as being
"communities" who all shared the same views about subjects and who
enjoyed being in each other's company. They would get dressed and
undressed together and wouldn't be ashamed of their bodies around each
other like I was. When I was in the changing room the idea was to get
out of my uniform and into my sports kit as quickly as possible and
without anyone noticing. I would try hard not to notice the other boys
when we were getting changed in case they were naked and thought I was
gay because I was looking at them. I was paranoid about being thought of
as gay and therefore in the eyes of the community - less of a man or
indeed of being thought less of a man simply because I simply was less
well endowed. Being a man's man was the puerile goal of every boy in
that changing room.
Gradually I noticed however that actually none of the other boys were
really that confident about their bodies either. In fact everyone had
the same paranoia about the changing room and of how they compared with
the other boys, even the gay boys. (In fact I found out afterwards that
one of my closest friends, Raymond, was gay and I don't remember even
seeing him get changed he was that anonymous in the changing room.) This
changing room silence and fear was part of being male. You did not get
dressed or undressed as part of a community (even though you were doing
it at the same time as other individuals) and you entered, got changed
and left the changing room as an individual. This was perhaps the most
significant thing I learnt at school - that I craved community so much
that I was determined to see it everywhere.
I couldn't really see community anywhere at my boarding school because
the closest we got to "community" was really as a "team" and that was no
different to a "hunting pack". The sense of being a community broke up
at the end of the activity or sport or even during it when we (there I go
again trying to impose a communal term on the group of individuals our
school teachers tried to pretend was a team) played as badly as we did.
Then the recriminations flew and collective team failure turned into
individual failure. Our teachers often spoke to us about "team spirit"
not understanding that "community spirit" was what we really needed.
By the time I left school I had not really worked out what my sexuality
was. I had worked out that I was not "normal" but then again was there
such a thing as normal anyway?
After finishing at school I went to university where I shunned male
company. Well, perhaps that's not quite true, I had a gay friend called
Bruce. In fact Bruce was the first friend I made at university.
Bruce was, like the boys in the changing room back at school, very
secretive about his sexuality and it took about a year before he came out
to me. Talking to Bruce I found myself asking was I homosexual? Was it
ok to be homosexual? Did it make me less of a man if I was? Were you
either homosexual or heterosexual? Or was it possible to be something
other?
I slept with Bruce once. I wanted to use sleeping with Bruce to decide
whether I was homosexual or not. I think Bruce wanted to find out what
sleeping with a boarding school boy was like.
Although I was not Bruce's kind of man (and we mutually agreed we were
not ideally suited to each other as sexual partners) sleeping with Bruce
did not resolve my questions. I could not be sure that I was not
homosexual. After sleeping with Bruce I remembered particularly being
attracted to one of my class mates at school and wishing it was him and
not Bruce inside me. Maybe it was ok to be homosexual after all? Bruce
and I had so much in common.
Gradually at university Bruce and I built up a circle of female friends.
Looking back now I cannot recall exactly how it happened. What I can say
is that we became a safe space for the women in our circle of friends as
they sensed, quicker than I did, that Bruce was gay and they also sensed
that I was too shy and too much of a gentleman to hit on them. They
liked having a few non-threatening men in their group and Bruce and I
enjoyed being part of a "community".
As I had long suspected, contrary to my schooling, it was a "community"
in which women were my equals. I came to realise an integral part of
being part of a community was women. Women built community not men. Men
might found communities but it was women who developed them. Why?
Because individual failure became community failure just as individual
success became community success.
In my last year at university I found myself spending more and more time
with Angela. We had planned to do things as a group but then no one else
turned up. First was a pizza night. It was a bit awkward at first but
as I chatted with Angela I realised that we had a lot more in common than
I had at first thought. Angela seemed to be enjoying the conversation
too.
Before long we became a couple.
Angela was a big fan of Madonna and she was playing at our local football
stadium. I also liked Madonna and bought tickets for us to go but Angela
was upset about this as she wanted to pay for her own ticket but didn't
have the money. I knew she was a part time makeup artist and charged
people for this service but the women in our circle of friends all knew
how to do their own makeup.
Then an idea hit me. There was a "Vicars and Tarts" evening at the
student union. I would get Angela to make me up as a "Tart". It was
something I had not tried before but it would mean I could employ Angela
professionally and she could then afford her ticket for the Madonna
concert.
At first Angela was shocked at the idea. "Look Arthur, I know Bruce is
gay but I thought you were simply a gentleman. Does this mean you are
actually gay?"
What a question! I was trying to help her out.... As I said before I
did not really know if I was gay or not but what would I say to Angela?
I thought quickly and then confided truthfully "Angela, this does not
mean I am gay. I have never actually done this before. Yes, Bruce is
gay but as far as I know he has never dressed as a woman yet half the
university team are straight and they have come to student union discos
dressed as women."
"You haven't answered the question, Arthur. Are you gay?" Angela pressed
me.
"The truth Angela is that I don't know. I have had sex with Bruce but we
both agreed it was a mistake and I have never slept with a woman before
but I have also never had sex with another man. I think I am in love
with you and I have never dressed as a woman before."
"In that case, Angelina, you have yourself a deal but we are going to
have to ensure you look far more convincing than the boys in the football
team."
"Why are you calling me 'Angelina'?"
"It makes you sound like a kind of small version of me and believe me
Angelina when we are done you will look like me! Even you won't want to
be called Arthur!"
Angela was good to her word. She had me shave off the hair on my face,
my arms, my legs and my chest. She glued down my eyebrows, she stuck
false eyelashes on my eyelids, she did the full works! By the time she
was done we looked like sisters. She found me a pair of heels too and
taught me to walk in them.
When we were done we went and knocked on Bruce's door.
"Angela, where's Arthur? Oh my god! Is that you Arthur? Angela you are
amazing!"
"It's Angelina tonight Brucey baby," I said.
"Angelina! I thought you said it was a mistake," Angela said in a mock
worried voice.
"You told her Angelina? Look Angela it was a mistake for both of us!"
Said Bruce. "It happened once and I hope you will believe me when I say
I wish you two lesbians every happiness together and I will not stand in
your way. But looking at Angelina I am starting to wonder about my own
sexuality."
Strangely Bruce's little speech reassured Angela about me, coming as it
did without any possibility of collusion between us and my sexuality was
never in question after that.
So that the "Vicars and Tarts" night was my first night as a woman. I
had half the football team try to chat me up until Angela led me to the
centre of the dance floor and we danced a slow dance together.
For the first night in my life I felt sexy and like I was an object of
desire and I enjoyed it. It was nice to be desirable..
Did I crave male attention that much?
When it came to the Madonna concert though Angela had a surprise in store
for me and asked me to come to her room well before the concert began.
"I wanted to go as flamenco Madonna but the fancy dress shop wound up
giving me two outfits instead of one," She said coquettishly laying out
both dresses on her bed.
I raised my momentarily glue free eyebrows.
"Ok you got me!" she said. "I didn't want to go alone as flamenco
Madonna and thought Angelina might like to join me?"
La Isla Bonita was one of my favourite Madonna videos and I had so
enjoyed the Vicars and Tarts evening that it did not take Angela long to
coax out my inner Angelina again. I had always wondered what it would be
like to wear a traje de gitana like Madonna's.
It was different to the mini skirt and corset she had me wear for the
"Vicars and Tarts" evening. Angela had bought hair extensions to create
a bun and as she pulled my hair back my eyes looked more feminine even
before she added the false lashes. She then inserted a comb to held my
hair back and the bun in place.
I didn't have to shave my arms, chest and legs this time as my hair had
not grown back since the "Vicars and Tarts" party.
Angela had also bought me fishnets stockings and suspenders so where the
slit in Madonna's dress simply revealed her pantyhose, the slit in the
side of my dress revealed the top of my stockings and my suspender belt
as I danced in front of the mirror.
The bra Angela bought me this time was different too as while her dress
had shoulders my flamenco dress was shoulderless, meaning I felt more
vulnerable when we got to the concert. I was amazed the dress never fell
off.
We loved the concert and a lot of guys hit on us but when they saw us
holding each other's hands they realised we were a couple and assumed we
were lesbians and eventually gave up on us.
After the concert we made love for the first time. Angela was turned on
by Angelina and I was turned on by Angela and by being Angelina. After
that Angelina became a regular part of our lives and we rarely make love
without me wearing a minimum of a bra, stockings and suspenders and
panties and often quite a lot more.
My days as a woman were numbered though as over the course of the next
few years we had two daughters, Jane and Anne. I felt, as their father,
that I had to model masculinity and concentrated on my work.
That was all a long time ago now. I still wear my bras, stockings and
suspenders and panties to bed though. Angela washes them whilst the
girls are at school to save awkward questions about how my lingerie is
bigger than anyone else's in our household.
Where am I now? There was one other man in the job but he has been
dismissed. All my colleagues are women and the office has an
unmistakably feminine feel about it. Every room has flowers in it. As a
boy I hated flowers, but I have more flowers in my room than the rest of
the office. This started when a young lady I did some work for came in
to the office with an orchid for me. At the time I said to my colleagues
that I thought it was a bit odd for a woman to offer a man flowers
expecting my colleagues to agree with me but instead I was made to feel
odd for thinking it odd. (This was despite the fact that I had just read
"Monsieur Venus" by Rachilde, which should have set off alarm bells!) So
after that I came to accept gifts of flowers as being quite normal.
I remembered browsing my department store loyalty card page I noticed
that this month I get 20% off corsets or skirts this month. Can't they
work out that I am a man? Just because I use my card to by stuff for my
wife and daughters does not make me a woman! I told Angela about this
when we were out shopping with the girls and she flew into a rage and
said in front of the girls "You enjoy crossdressing so much why don't you
used the offers?"
I went red and the girls burst into laughter. I felt betrayed. I had to
try to hide this though.
"I think you would look good in a corset, Daddy, it would hold in that
fat belly of yours," Jane declared.
"That's true, let me have your loyalty card,"Angela said.
"Can we get Dad a skirt too?" Teased Anne.
"We'll see," said Angela. "I haven't seen anything in his colour yet."
"Very funny," I said. "You are not buying me a corset!"
Angela glared at me.
"Jane is right, a corset would help with your belly until you start
Pilates."
I dared not say anything further. There was no way I was doing Pilates,
it was a ladies sport.
This was the most embarrassing shopping trip of my life! I felt like the
veil (or was it the skirt?) had been lifted from my masculinity to reveal
Angelina to my daughters.
Fortunately Angela, although I was fitted for a corset, said nothing
further about crossdressing that day so it seemed the girls thought it
was just a joke and my skirt or veil was put back.
A few days later I was browsing facebook. For some reason I found myself
drawn to lingerie and women's clothing pages. These women are beautiful.
What would it feel like to look beautiful like that?
Since that day the only adverts I get on Facebook or indeed on the
internet are for women's clothing sites.
Angela and I inevitably had a conversation about my browsing history, why
I had been unhappy at work for several years and how being the man of the
house was a strain on me. I needed to stop hiding the real me that she
fell in love with..
I live with three other women. I work with five more. I am happy as I
lie down on the Pilates mat in my sports bra and yoga pants, one of a
class of 30 women...
I am no longer living a lie.... I am now part of a community in which I
am accepted.
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