Becoming Marybeth free porn video

BECOMING MARYBETH My name is Marybeth Greene-at least that's what I prefer to go by. I have medium length dark hair, age appropriate, and am in my mid-60s. I'm kind of cute for my age, at least I think so. But I have a boyfriend so I guess I cant be too hideous. The reason I somewhat insecure is that I wasn't born Marybeth-my birth name is David, and my birth gender is male. However, I knew from a VERY early age that my initial classification was wrong. I think my mom knew it too, but being born when I was, in the 50s, being transgender wasn't at all accepted. Even being gay was liable to get you arrested, beaten up or killed. Remember, this was long before Stonewall. My father and uncle were both World War 2 veterans and very set in their conservative ways of thinking. I damned near wound up at West Point due to my uncles influence. As it was, I did take two years of ROTC in college and also served in the Air Force, though not very successfully. I was born in a large New Jersey City, where my mother was a stay at home mom, like most women were at the time. My dad worked in a large company that made mostly personal hygiene products like soap, toothpaste, laundry detergent, etc. if you ever boated on the Hudson River, you might have seen their giant clock on the mountain. Since he had never had the opportunity for an education, he was a blue collar worker. But we were happy, and while we weren't rich, we weren't anywhere near poor either. Modern psychology wasn't really around in the early 50s, so my mother didn't know it could be harmful to let me know (repeatedly) that she often wished I had been a girl. I was to be named 'Wendy', a name I don't really like and so didn't adopt for myself when I realized who I was. There were only two other kids my age on our apartment house floor, both girls. So at a very early age, Marla and Susie became my playmates. I dimly remember playing house with them and their dolls, or being in the courtyard playing jump-rope or hopscotch. Back in that era, the girls always wore dresses in our area, though my mom never dressed me as a girl (that I remember!). But I know she thought my playing girl games was cute, which she told me as she reminded me that I should also have been a little girl. One thing I do remember-once when she was applying lipstick (a bright red back then) I asked if I could wear it too. She told me that boys didn't wear lipstick, it was for girls. I asked again, and she said fine, and applied a red coat to my lips. I remember wearing it when we went to the courtyard to play with my girlfriends. One of them said I looked cute and maybe I should wear dresses like they did. I said maybe my mommy would let me. It never happened, but I thought it would be great. I remember we then moved to the bottom floor of a house in a shore community (also in NJ) that my aunt and uncle owned-I was just short of five. The town had a weird birthday rule, so even though I wouldn't turn five until late November, I had to immediately start Kindergarten in October. The result of this was that I was always one of the youngest and smallest boys in my grade. In elementary school it didn't matter, but later on in Middle School, being a year behind and not having started puberty yet became a real problem. Again, modern pedagogy hadn't hit yet, and when the class lined up, it was always boys in one line, girls in the other. In our desks, boys on one side, girls on the other. The teacher used to punish the boys by making them sit on the girls side or walk down the hall in the girls line. She would make comments like "I think we're going to have to get some extra dresses!." Even then, that kind of comment excited me-I wished she would actually carry through on her threat. I'd have misbehaved every day if she would 'punish' me like that. As it was, I did manage to get sent to the girls side or line more often than the other boys. Sometimes she would even make the boy being punished play with the girls during recess-the usual hopscotch or jump-rope. I got pretty good at jumping rope and singing the same rhymes the girls did. Often won at hopscotch, too. Two things stand out from my home life in this regard. Once, me, my mom and dad were in a department store on the main street-don't remember the grade, it had to have been before grade 4. I got curious and went to look at something without telling my parents and my dad got mad. He said, "If you do that again, I'm going to buy you a dress and make you wear it to school." Boing. I'm thinking, "Please dad, do it and let me be one of the girls. Their clothes are so pretty and I'd love to wear them." But of course, this was still the late 50s or maybe 1960, and it would have been impossible for me to express such a thought. The other was when I came home from school one day (a whole lot of kids walked to the school together, including some sixth graders so it was safe back then) and I saw my aunt in our living room with my mom, and they had a pretty yellow dress draped over the sofa. My aunt asked what I thought of it, and I hesitated, thinking that I was finally in heaven. I thought it was beautiful, but the ladies took my hesitation for being unwilling to comment on such a feminine article of clothing. My aunt spoke up. "Oh honey, it isn't for you. It's for my niece that I'm visiting this weekend. Of course we wouldn't make you wear something like that!" I should say that my uncle was my mother's brother, so she was my aunt by marriage, with another whole side of the family. To be honest, they wouldn't have had to 'make' me do anything- I'd have changed into it in a heartbeat, and spent the rest of the day in it, and hoped to go shopping for more. At that young age, the fact that I had extremely short hair didn't register-I just wanted to be as feminine as I could. My best friend during those years was the girl across the street- Joanne. She was a little older than me, but in the same grade. We played a lot together, with her friend Joannie from around the block (coincidence with the names there, huh?). Naturally, being outnumbered, we played the usual games that girls that age played-more practice in jumping rope. How many boys do you know who can double- dutch? I got very jealous when they-and the other girls in my class got to join brownies, I loved the little dresses and beanies they wore, and wished I could join them. Instead, I got put into cub scouts and wore the blue uniform. Actually I later went into boy scouts (after another move) and even became an Eagle Scout. Managed to hide pretty well, didn't I? One boy was lucky, though. He had a twin sister, and his mom was the group leader. When the girls had their weekly meeting to do their crafts and whatever, he got to join in. While he could never be an official member, he did learn the promise and things, and worked on the badges at the same time the other girls did. Had he stayed with it, and under current rules, he might have earned his silver or gold awards. But not in the early 60s (which it was by this time). With as much time as I spent at Joanne's house, we never once played dress-up, though she had some beautiful dresses that I would have loved to have had as my own. In fourth grade, my uncle sold the house, and we had to move. They wound up in a town about 30 minutes down the Garden State Parkway, and we moved to the same town as they did, but not the same neighborhood. I did see Joanne once again, though, as a senior in high school when we played their school. I was in the band and she was head cheerleader. She grew up to be a fantastic beauty, but had developed the typical late 60s cheerleader attitude. We exchanged greetings, but being in the band didn't rate with her. No big loss. She had a boyfriend (football player) and I had a girlfriend-one of very few. As I said, we moved again to another shore town. I started in fourth grade, and had a miserable time of it. A lot of the boys were bullies, and they could detect there was something strange about me. I had to fight-a lot. Even started taking Judo (all that was available back then, didn't get to karate until college). Got pretty good, eventually topping out as a 1st grade brown belt-one step below black. Had to use it a few times, too. When I broke one jerk's arm, the others finally left me alone. Went through several years of hell before that occurred, though. I should mention-by this time my aunt had a daughter, followed by mom giving me a brother, followed by another girl cousin. All 18 months apart, starting when I was about 6. This all occurred prior to the move. Not much happened gender wise in grades 4-6. Summer after seventh though was magical. It had to do with my dads plant being on strike all summer, and he had to go to the picket line every day. To keep us fed, mom had to go to work at a local military base. I spent my days next door with the girl who lived there, a very good friend of mine, and a grade lower. Due to birthdays, we were the same age, though. Her mom was divorced and also had a job. For the summer, the two moms went in on a single sitter, a girl about 20 or so-she was in college. And very open minded about a lot of things, luckily for me. My younger brother went to my aunt on the other side of town, as he needed more care at that age. Debbie and her friend Cheryl were cheerleaders for the local kids football team, and Cheryl was allowed to come over during the day to keep us company. We did a lot of things, including game playing. One that springs to mind was that both girls liked to play 'the Barbie Game'. You know, where you have to accumulate the dress, shoes, jewelry and date? All on paper of course. The girls thought it was hilarious that I was getting this stuff in my deck, and seemed to enjoy it very much. So they cooked something up with Janice, the sitter. One day, Janice wore a skirt to the house, Debbie and Cheryl wore simple dresses. They insisted that if I was going to hang with them and do girl things with them, I had to dress the part and wear some of Debbie's clothing. For forms sake, I naturally tried to argue with them, and insist that boys didn't wear girl's clothes, and in any event I'd look ridiculous in a dress. No luck (or maybe lots of it?). Out of Debbie's closet came what I needed to dress up for the day. A fresh pair of panties and training bra (Deb was sixth grade, remember?), a white party dress with little yellow and pink flowers and a pair of anklets. Her shoes actually fit me, so I found myself learning how to walk in a pair of two inch heels. My hair was still short, but her mom owned a mid-length wig for special occasions, since she wore her own hair rather short-so I wore that. A pair of clip-on earrings and a bracelet/necklace combination completed the outfit. Debbie and Cheryl were allowed to wear a little bit of make-up, so I found myself with Janice applying a light pink lipstick, blush and mascara to my face. Matching pink nail polish finished it all up. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror and saw a normal sixth grade girl, all dressed up for a party or school dance (such as they were at that age). I spent the rest of the day dressed like that, getting girl lessons in walking, sitting, carrying a purse, dancing and applying my own makeup. I was in tween girl heaven. About an hour before the moms usually got home from work, it all came off. Back to my boys underwear, jeans and t-shirt. Heels off, sneakers on. Makeup remover on my face, especially my eyes and a scrubbing session on my face. Remover took care of the polish on my nails. I wanted to cry-that day was the culmination of all the hopes and dreams I had experienced all of my life. But the summer wasn't over. I spent practically every weekday dressed as a girl-dresses, skirts, heels, makeup, sometimes short shorts and a feminine t-shirt, even her cheerleading uniform. Yes, they took me out back and taught me all the cheers that the teams in our town used, from pee-wee up to the high school varsity. With minor variations, they all used the same cheers. Over the summer I got good enough that I could have gone out for the squad, and since I kept up practice in private for the next few years, could have probably made the varsity squad in high school. Cheerleading is actually rather a good aerobic exercise, and the girls are athletes, I don't care what anyone says about it. Funny thing, I never got scared about the thought that either of the girls would tell the school about my summertime clothing. It never crossed my mind, though it would obviously have been disastrous. One thing we occasionally did that was rather daring. Every two weeks, the moms would give Janice a little extra money so she could take us out to Mcdonalds for a special treat. The first time this happened (while I was dressed in a denim skirt and light blue top), I panicked. Everyone in town would be able to recognize me, and while I loved wearing skirts and makeup, if I was discovered my life would be over. Janice assured me that we would go to one two towns over where no one would know who I was, and since I could pass as a regular 12 year old girl, I would be perfectly safe. Hesitantly, I agreed. Then she piped up, ?By the way, better touch up your lipstick, sweetie. You want to look your best, dont you?? I reached into the purse I was carrying and fished one out in a dark pink shade. I stood next to Debbie at the living room mirror and carefully applied it (I was pretty good by this time!) and felt like I had died and gone to heaven. I was being treated as a complete girl for the first time and was actually going out in public wearing a skirt! Janice warned me that the typical boys type lunch would make me stand out (no Big Mac and large fries!) but that was ok. We went in, we ordered, sat down at a table and ate. There were a few boys from that town there also and I could feel them ?checking us out?. The three of us giggled at the thought of me being checked over by a boy- which isn?t what the guys thought, based on my experience. In my humble opinion, they thought were were giggling at the thought of us being girls scoped out by boys, not me being a biological male scoped out by them. We finished our lunch, and Debbie informed me she had to visit the ladies room, and I had to come with her-it was traditional. So in I went, visiting a stall and seeing the little dispenser on the wall for the first time. Intellectually, I knew what they were for, and if I was going to dress like this I should know about it, but it was still kind of thrilling. Debbie told me the discussion would come up among groups of girls our age, and NOT knowing about periods would definitely be something that would cause our peers to question my identity. I agreed to look it up in an encyclopedia, and we then went over to the mirror, again to fix lipstick and blush after eating. So went my first adventure in public as a girl. The summer went on, me getting more and more used to wearing female clothing, and not thinking anything of going out in public. We even went to a movie in the next town once, something popular with girls at the time, as I remember. Eventually, the strike was over, dad went back to work and mom came home. Yuck. So ended my fabulous summer as a 12 year old girl. Neither of my friends ever said a word about it to anyone, but the opportunities to dress with them were gone, gone, gone. At the youth football games that fall, I could see them on the sidelines cheering with the other girls on the squad in their green and white skirts with either green or white sweaters (Cheryl?s was white cause she was a co-captain, Debbie wasn?t so hers was green) and seriously wished I was out there with them, cheering my little heart out for our team. Heck, just watching, I knew I was at least as good as half of the squad, and better than a few. But hey-biology won out, I was a boy and if I was going to be out there at all, it would have to be in shoulder pads, cleats and a helmet. Which obviously wasn?t going to happen. In December of my eighth grade (her seventh) she and her mom moved away. Dressing with her was never going to happen again, but I did discover something else. My mom figured that I was old enough to be left alone when she went shopping in the afternoon, or on weekends. I discovered her closet, and wonder of wonders, given my age and smallish size, I could more or less fit into her clothes. Remember, this was now the mid-60s and women of her era still wore mostly dresses and skirts on a regular basis. So I had a lot to choose from. Even her shoes were my size! So, whenever I was left alone for a while, I would go into my parent?s room and pull out a dress and a pair of heels for the time I would be alone. I didn?t go into her lingerie drawer, since I felt that would have been creepy, but wearing dresses was enough to satisfy me at the time. I remember a lime green sheath dress that I particularly liked, along with a light pink shirtdress. How many boys knew the difference? She also had a white pleated skirt and royal blue top that I fell in love with and wished I could wear to school, but again, that was just wishful thinking. I never went out front wearing her things, but we had a rather secluded back yard and I did spend time back there. I didn?t use a lot of her makeup, but I did always wear lipstick-one of several bright reds which was still all she wore at the time. So it was all she had. I knew none of the girls of my acquaintance wore such a bold shade, but I sure couldn?t acquire anything different. So I went with what I had. And then came High School. We moved across town, but with only one HS, I went to the same one I would have gone to had we stayed put. There?s two now, and I would have gone to the new one, but in 1966 that wasn?t an option. A lot happened during those years, but my learning about myself and opportunities to dress are the most interesting. And they were many. My mom?s mother had passed away a few years earlier, and my grandfather had come to live with us. And the three adults discovered bingo, of which there were several held in the area every night. Firehouses, Catholic churches, First Aid squads, Elks Club, you name it. My family was gone usually at least two and sometimes three or four nights week, not getting home until after eleven PM. And they took my little brother with them-their theory was that it was nice to give me some ?private time? alone. Since by this time I had earned a ham radio license and had a station set up in the basement, they figured I would be spending my time there. And I did. Some of it anyway. The rest? You can?t guess? It was the late 60s, so my hair had grown out a bit. My dad wouldn?t let me have it real long (I?d look like a hippie) but it was collar length. So as soon as they were out of sight, off to the closet I?d go. By now the creepiness factor had disappeared, so panties, bra, pantyhose, dress or skirt and top, full makeup and heels (while they still fit, that only lasted halfway through grade ten) and recombed my hair with some kind of barrette or other hair clip. And then I?d settle down for the next few hours. When it got dark, I eventually got bold. I?d venture out the front door, and eventually work my way up to a walk around the block completely dressed in women?s clothing. In my own neighborhood! Once I actually took a several block walk for almost forty-five minutes, completely undetected. Every time I did this, I managed to get home in time to disrobe, hang everything up and totally scrub my face. I eventually learned the term ?transgender?, and read all about Christine Jorgensen-the movie came out the summer after my senior year. I questioned myself-was I really TG, or was I actually a crossdresser, wearing female clothes just for a sexual thrill? I will admit, there were times I did give myself a ?release?, but that wasn?t my main goal. Lots of times I just sat and watched tv (pun not intended) or read. And if I was TG, just what could I do about it? Not much, my parents wouldn?t have understood and my dad seriously would have kicked me out of the house. So, off to college (a famous school deep in the heart of the south, the same one that the NY Giants most famous Quarterback went to). Dressing as a coed? Please, those rednecks would have killed me if I had been discovered. So I eventually graduated, with a BA in Liberal Arts (useful, huh?), a brown belt in TKD and a couple of years of ROTC. Again, I hide pretty well, don?t I? I also had my one and only gay experience, I was at a fraternity party, and one of my drunk brothers (ok, so I was freaking drunk as a skunk too) dragged me off to his room. I woke up pretty disgusted, and realized right then that whatever I was in the mad, mad spectrum of sexuality, gay wasn?t it. I told him so, and that I wasn?t going to do it again, please don?t come on, etc. He apologized and said that he must have misread me, and that he usually wasn?t wrong. I sure didn?t tell him that while I wasn?t gay, I did love to prance around in women?s clothing and that I?d rather be a Tri-Delt (or some other sorority) sister than a member of the fraternity that we were. The only time I got to dress was when I went home for summer break. I got pretty bold on one of them too. I had acquired a small collection of skirts and things that I would drive around wearing. Hoping not to get stopped, I?d change in the car and then at some point change back. One time I got up the nerve to stop (in early evening) at a small privately owned makeup studio (not one of the big chains like Ulta or Sephora which didn?t exist at the time). It was in a strip mall, so I was even more daring for this little adventure. I got out of the car (in a skirt!) and walked up a small staircase into the shop, and asked the owner (she didn?t have any employees, I?d checked the place out for a few days) for a makeover. She wasn?t inclined to agree to my request, but she figured that money was money. I sat down in her chair (next to a window for all to see!) and she proceeded to give me my first professional makeup lesson. She showed me the proper application of foundation, powder with advice on loose versus pressed, blush, eyeshadow, liner, mascara and taught me about lipstick shades while applying a very pretty fuscia, somewhere between red and pink. I was also wearing pink nail polish, so I found out that it wasn?t absolutely essential for my lips and nails to match. In addition to a few of the products I bought a head scarf and a bottle of makeup remover (I already had polish remover in the car). I walked out of the shop, observed by a few genetically female shoppers who mostly gawked, got in my car and drove off. I changed clothing in a somewhat deserted parking lot behind another strip mall and wiped off the obvious color cosmetics. I found a restroom and scrubbed everything else off of my face and stripped my nails before driving home. Occasional experiences like this were the sum total of my dressing during my college years. Looking back, it?s no wonder that I was under a lot of stress during that period of time. What came next was worse. I spent some time working in a large do it yourself store at basically minimum was plus commission. Told you my liberal arts degree was useful, didn?t I? I spent my free time at a Wado Ryu Karate dojo and earned a black belt in that, based on my already having two brown ones. I did have to meet the skill requirements, though, but that didn?t take long. And then along came the recession of 1975, and I got laid off. I spent a few months on unemployment, looking for another job, and had absolutely NO luck. So I literally ?bit the bullet? and enlisted in the Air Force. My mom was horrified, she being a child of World War II was under the impression that someone with a college degree was automatically sent off to Officer Training School. I took the exam for it, made a good score, but didn?t get sent. This was just after Vietnam and they were discharging junior officers, not making a whole lot more, especially non fliers, which I was. So after enduring the hell known as basic training, I was trained and assigned as a Security Policeman. Since I had taken two years of ROTC in college, I got to start at the lofty rank of E-2, Airman instead of E-1, Airman Basic. Big deal, but it did mean a pay raise. Opportunities to dress in basic? Please, don?t make me laugh. So I got to my permanent base in California, and I?m thinking, ?Wow- free thinking California. Dressing, here I come!? Was I wrong. Didn?t happen for my entire enlistment. Thought about it, read some porn magazines dealing with it, but me personally? Nope. I pretty much hated every day of my term, even though I was promoted twice more, to Airman first class and then two years later to Senior airman-three stripes and E-4 pay. The AF used to call it Sergeant, but they did away with that rank, so I was still not an NCO. But SAs got to act as junior ncos, and more than once I was tapped as a team leader, normally a Staff Sergeant (E5) job. One Christmas, with lots of senior troops on leave, I was acting flight Sergeant, normally an E-6 job. Eventually the government decided it was necessary to reduce the peacetime force even more, and asked for volunteers. Watch out for the stampede to personnel, won?t you? Let's skip over the next few years, because to be honest, not much happened. I went to grad school, got a masters and teaching certificate and toiled away for the next quarter of a century. Topped out as a Vice-Principal, so my retirement pay isn?t all that bad. Also accumulated a wife, a son and a daughter, and a black belt (3rd degree) in Okinawan Isshinryu Karate. My son has a TKD black belt, and my daughter took BJJ and Krav Maga. My wife earned a 3rd brown, so it?s a family affair. Dressing? Not much, though I did raid my wife?s closet for some of her pull on skirts, since she was really a lot smaller than me. Also borrowed her makeup kit when she was out. For a few years she got really kinky in the early part of our marriage-she got off on my wearing one of her nightgowns when we got intimate sometimes. Who was I to complain? Also, one Halloween I borrowed one of her flower print pull on skirts and a very large sweater and dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire. Also had a cheap wig from the costume store. Wasn?t trying to pass, but that day I could get away with it. Took my kids around trick or treating and the neighbors though it was hilarious. Nobody, but nobody suspected a thing, and I never got to do it again, she would have become suspicious in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, a few years later we got divorced. Nothing dramatic, we just got tired. We?re still friends, and do a lot with the kids, we just couldn?t stay together. With our daughter married and living in Delaware, we both moved into the state, maybe 20 miles apart. Separate apartments of course. Finally! I began acquiring some clothing and other things. I started growing my hair out until I could either butch it up or put it in an attractive feminine style. I wasn?t living full time at this point, but I did do a lot. I attended Fantasia in Massachusetts and Southern Comfort Conference in Florida. Drove to both, in male clothing naturally. Changed as soon as I got to the hotel and wore exclusively skirts and dresses the entire duration of the conference. Made sure I attended ?princess day? in Florida especially-a day for newbies to get dressed to the nines and go out as a group and experience as many female activities as possible-makeup and manicure in a public salon, dress shopping at a mall, even lunch as a casual chain restaurant. That was really a day just for the new ?girls? but what a thrill. I knew that these experiences were what I had been missing all of my life-being a woman. Not a crossdresser, drag queen or even transgendered-I should have been born a real XX female. Like my mom had wanted for me. Since that couldn?t happen, being transgendered was the next best thing to accomplishing my goal of being satisfied with my life. So I took steps to achieve it. That meant doctors, two MDs and a Psychologist. I needed their approval to move forward, and after a few months, I got the recommendation for beginning my ?real life test?. Technically, anyone had the right to dress as they please, but those doctors notes can sure come in handy when I get ?read?. Which lets face it, happens more often than not. I?m not that 12 year old girl sitting in McDonalds with her bff anymore. My body weight has shifted some, and at this age, there are some wrinkles that have appeared over the years. So I started my rlt, and eventually was approved for hormones, and received a tracheal shave (for my Adams Apple). My breasts eventually started to bud, along with some other curves and smoother skin and such. I keep my body shaved at all times, and generally wear a skirt when I go out-I still love them. Of course, winters here can be cold, so I do wear slacks and jeans at that time. I?m not stupid, nor am I obviously not a religious fanatic on the subject. I?m retired and so is my ex- wife, sowe both have pensions and social security, so jobs aren?t a worry, nor is alimony, and the kids are in their 30s. Due to my having had two strokes and a few other health problems, my doctors are definitely NOT recommending affirmation surgery for me. So even though I?m living as a female, I still have that little reminder. I have problems in states such as North Carolina too, especially with the maniac we have as president now. Just hoping for the best. I mentioned before I have a boyfriend. I do, but obviously sex is out of the question. Well, mostly. We actually met at a ham radio convention in Ohio (I kept up my license all these years) and was honest with him right from the beginning. We started dating, and he informed me that he had suffered from ED for several years, so lack of sex wasn?t a problem. I do manage to do little things for him (you can guess what I mean, most men go absolutely nuts when their lady does that for them) occasionally, but basically, we just enjoy each others company. I don?t consider that as being gay, since I am taking the womans role and identify as one. No, we aren?t going to move in together, and marriage is completely off the table. So that?s Marybeth in a nutshell. From a little kid in northern New Jersey playing with dolls, to a full time non-operative transgendered woman. I?m me, I?m happy and I don?t hurt anyone. It took long enough, but here I am.