Grandma Beatrice free porn video

Grandma Beatrice It was 7am on Saturday and I was sitting in my one room apartment nursing my second whiskey. The warm burn of the liquid has started to numb my profound depression. My divorce papers had arrived in the mail that morning, signed and final. How I got there is not the normal story of two people just growing apart. No, I am completely at fault. She could no longer live with someone that was lying to her. It was a gradual process really. About five years into our marriage I finally came clean to her and admitted that I was a cross dresser. That when she was away or when I was gone on a trip I liked to dress in women's clothing. She was shocked but after my assurance that it was just a masturbation thing and that I did not want to be a woman she accepted it on the condition that she was not part of it and that I did not do it around her. Life went on. I dressed in private and she said nothing even when I started keeping myself completely shaved. But then I reached 35years old and retired. I started to dress at home almost every day when she was at work. Even after she caught me a few times she just smirked and told me to change. When I spent 6 months having laser hair removal she even commented that she liked how smooth I was, but then I was in car accident and had to have facial reconstruction. You would think that it should have not mattered, but I made a poor decision. You see, without her knowledge I had my doctor change my face considerably. I have no idea what I was thinking at the time. I just thought how much of a change could it really be, it was significant. My doctor commented that he noticed I had all of my facial and most of my body hair permanently removed. I was honest and explained about my dressing. He then told that me if I was inclined he could feminize my face during the surgery if I wished. Without a pause I agreed. He asked if I had any requests. I had always felt that my mother and specifically my grandmother were attractive women in a tomboyish way and would like to look more like them. I gave him an old photo of them I carried in my wallet. After some deliberation he said that since I had the basic bone structure of them it would not be difficult and though it would be a noticeable change I would still look like my family. He said that he would be able to give me a combination of their features. I agreed, but then I commented that I would love to look just like my grandmother if I was living as a female. Then signed the papers. He took this as request, not a passing comment. When I woke from the surgery I was surprised by all the swelling and the drains in my chin and cheeks. It wasn't until the drains were removed and the bandages were being changed did we see what I had really done. My wife gasped as she watched the nurse work. When the nurse left she started to cry and asked me what the hell did the doctor do? I picked up the hand mirror and the shock of who I was made me pass out. While I was very swollen and bruised everywhere, looking back at me was a somewhat mannish woman. When the doctor came in he took her concern as worry over the swelling and told her that in the next few weeks I would look very different and it would be fine. This comforted her, but I knew the truth. After she left for the day I took out the picture I gave the doctor and it was obvious that I would soon look almost identical to my then 65 year old grandmother. I would have her face. Over the next six weeks I healed. Her round cherubic cheeks filled out on my face. Her adorable little turned up nose sat on my face. Her open eyes with highly arched thin eyebrows resided above those blue eyes. Finally the bruising was gone and looking back in the mirror was a 65 year old woman, complete with smile lines and wrinkles. The inevitable happened. Sitting at the kitchen table with tears in her eyes she declared that she no longer could be married to me. She had married a man, not a half man half old woman. I tried to say I was still him but she just laughed. She smirked and asked if I had looked in the mirror lately. Of course I had and she was right. Even with my short Manish haircut, from the neck up I was a woman of 65. I could hide it mostly with sunglasses but still there was no denying it. I had even been called ma'am more than once at the store. She then asked me to finally be honest with her. She said that I needed to admit to her that it wasn't a mistake, that I had asked for it and that above all that I liked how I now looked. I paused and excused myself to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror I had to make a choice keep lying or just do what she asked. The thing was she was right, well sort of, I didn't like how I looked, I loved it, I reveled in my face. Every time I looked in the mirror I got a tingle. My feminine face honestly turned me on to no end. I would find myself staring at my looks. Wondering how a new grey hairstyle would look framing my face. Longing to have my grandmother's hairstyle, and then my penis would begin to get hard. I had masturbated more than once to my reflection. After, remorse and regret would set in, but lately that passed more and more quickly. When I dressed when she was at work, I felt incredible. I went back to the kitchen and came clean. I told her about the conversation with the doctor. I explained about the picture and his misunderstanding, but also that I was pleased with what he had done. I explained that I didn't want to be a woman but for some reason I really enjoyed having a female face. To this she actually got mad. That is the worst part she said. If I was going to transition to a woman it would make sense but this half thing was just strange and it was gross to her. She did not find me attractive at all anymore. She didn't even want to look at me. She then told me that I had one week to pack my things, male and female and move out. Since she was the one working the house was hers. She would not ask for any of my retirement pay, but I should not expect anything from her either. She picked up her purse, walked to the door, then turned around and thanked me for being honest finally. Out she went. The next Saturday I moved into a furnished one bedroom apartment on the other side of town. That brings me to that morning at 7am. Sitting on the couch, second drink almost gone, alone, trying to numb myself someone knocked on my door. I yelled give me a minute and hurried to my room to quickly change out of the flannel night gown. After pulling on sweats, a t-shirt and glancing in the mirror at the tired old woman's face on a plump man's body I sighed and went to the door. Standing in the door was a Sheriff. "Ma'am, um Sir, may I speak with Mr. David Jacobs please, does he live here?" He asked. I shook my head and told him I was David, gesturing to my face I said that it was a botched facial reconstruction after a car accident and opened the door wider to invite him inside. He followed me into the kitchen, all the time scanning the apartment. Then he told me that I may wish to take a seat. Puzzled, I sat. He then confirmed my parents' names and address. Finally he dropped the bomb. While coming home from a local casino, their car had been struck by a cement truck, which pushed them off the road into the bay. Both were trapped inside and unfortunately drowned. He gave me some paperwork and the information off the funeral home they were in with instructions of what I was legally required to do. When he was done I walked him to the door and thanked him for his kindness his response was "no problem Ma'am it's...oh sorry I hope you got a large settlement from the docs that did your face, I'm sorry to say you really do look like a woman." This annoyed me for some reason, it was not his place to say that. So I responded by telling him it was ok, since as soon as he left I would go put my dress and support hose on for the day. He gave a weak smile and got in his car. I closed the door and started to cry. As far as I could see my life was falling apart in every way. My wife was gone, and now so were my parents, my damn sexual fetish had provoked me into surgery to now having my grandmother's face, and damn it that thought just turned me on! Why did I have to be such a freak? Crying harder I went into my bedroom and collapsed on my bed. After a while I got up and decided I best pack a bag and head up to take care of what I dreaded. I took off the sweats and t-shirt and stood in front of the mirror naked. After all the laser, I was hairless from the neck down. Over the period that I had been living alone I had stopped exercising and was eating very seldom. This had the effect of me losing most of my old belly, but also I tended to sag in places I never had before, mainly I had developed a very pronounced pair of man boobs. With my female face my body really did resemble an older woman. I had noticed this happening but my only joy in life now was cross dressing so the fact that I almost filled my bras excited me most of the time, but not at the moment. The funeral home would be expecting a 35 year old man, not this half man half elderly lady that was standing there. I could easily hide my body with clothes but the face...well there was no fighting it. I slipped my night gown back on with a pair of cotton full coverage panties and set about packing. I started out setting out boxers and jeans but when I walked past my mirror I realized that at least while was traveling, It would be easier to just dress as a woman. There would be a lot less questions. So I put the boxers back and packed all my panties, pantyhose and bras. I put in a few flannel nightgowns. If I remembered correctly it was cold this time of year in the old house. I pulled out the one male suit I still owned for making arrangements, then added a denim jumper dress and a floral prairie dress. For some reason it did not dawn on me to grab the women's jeans, just dresses. A hour later I looked in the mirror one last time, and reassured myself that I was dressed like this only because it would be easier to dress like the face I had. I was wearing a blue full skirt with black pantyhose, ballet flats, a white high color blouse, and an auburn wig that didn't look too bad though a little young looking for my face, it was not because I was transgender, just doing things the easy way. Besides the dress and hose at least gave me some pleasure after the deep sadness I felt. The drive was uneventful. I stopped for gas and not a soul looked at me twice. I was just another woman. I called my ex and told her about the accident. She promised that if I needed anything she would help. I thanked her and hung up. It took six hours but finally I drove up the mile long gravel road to the house my mom had moved into after my grandmother passed away. The spare key was still under the mat like I remembered. When I opened the door it was surreal. The house was just like they left it, complete with coffee cups in the sink from the morning they went out. A grocery list was on the fridge, everything there waiting for them to return, only they were not going to. I had instinctively removed my shoes at the door and it wasn't until my toes started to get cold and I looked down did I realize that I was walking around my parents' home in pantyhose and a skirt. I had never lived in the house but it still felt strange. Even stranger was that I had completely stopped noticing what I was wearing, no excitement or shame, just comfort, normalcy. After a while I went up the stairs to put my bag in the spare room, but when I opened it I found that it no longer had a bed but was converted to a den. Next choice was my parents' room but that creeped me out. The end of the hall was where my grandmother's room was at one time. I figured it was converted to a spare bedroom. Opening the door I was shocked to find it was just like she was still living in it, 5 years after she had passed away. Not covered in dust but clean and vacuumed. I realized my Mom must have left it that way because she could not bear to change it. I flipped on the light in her on-suite bathroom and it was still stocked with her toiletries, and hairbrush on the sink. Now, this you would think would really creep me out, but to the contrary it made me smile and feel at home, comforted like she was there. I had been so overwhelmed with grief for such a long time, being surrounded by her things made me relax. When I looked in the mirror and saw her standing there, me really, I knew that I wanted to stay in her room. It was like being in her embrace. After bringing my bag up to the room I decided to hang up my dresses and see how my suit had faired, but when I opened her closet I was overcome again by the sight of her clothing. Her house dresses hung perfectly on the left side. Dresses and skirts for going out were neatly placed on the other. All of her shoes stood on the shelves as if waiting for her to choose a pair. Low wedges, orthopedic rubber soles on some. A few pairs of flats and two pair of fancy heels with a strap across the instep. Tentatively I made room and hung up the two dresses I brought but could not bring myself to put the male suit in with these beautiful feminine things. It would have to go in the hall closet. As I continued I slowly opened the chest of drawers. One filled with her support hose and full panties and bras. Another held long line corsets with packets of stockings next to each. The center drawer han her nighties. Looking at these I realized just how tired I was and decided that I should go to bed. Then an idea struck me, all of this was mine now. Could I really wear it? Was it wrong? As if from afar I swear I heard her whisper to me, "honey please, it is yours and I am here always, it is ok." I started to weep softly as I chose a high collar flannel nightie and a pair of granny panties. I needed this to relax and feel better, if just for tonight. I took off my skirt, blouse and hose. With some excitement I slipped the panties on expected to become aroused, but nothing happened. Pulling the gown over my head I loved how soft and warm it was. When it settled around my ankles I knew I had made the right choice as a calm came over me. Sitting down at her vanity, I used her cold cream to remove my makeup and brush my own hair back. On a foam head was the grey wig she used when she did not want to bother with doing her hair. On a whim I decided to put it on and see how I looked. In the mirror I saw her in person. I was her or at least I looked just like her. This did get a reaction in my panties. I immediately took it off not wanting to play with myself. It helped to settle myself down. Then I pulled back the quilt and slipped into her, no, my bed. The last thing I remember before the sleep took me, was how wonderful felt. The best I had in years. The sun coming in through the window woke me in the morning. I realized that this was the first full night's sleep I had gotten in months. Stretching I felt amazing, rested and content. Without hesitating I got up and put the wig on. It just made sense to me. After pulling on her robe and slippers I went down to make coffee. I found that there was only tea, since I was Bea I decided it was fitting and smiled. I went up to "my room" and started a bath. As it was filling I laid out my suit. I found that knowing I was going to wear it made me feel sad, but I had to, they were expecting a man not a woman. The bath woke me fully and I proceeded to start dressing as a man. It wasn't until I had put on my panties did I realize that I had not brought any socks, only hose. I was going to have to borrow some of my fathers. I went into their room and as quickly as possible found a pair of black dress socks then hurried out closing the door behind me. I did not like being in there for some reason. The dress shirt fit awfully. My boobs sagged inside, and when I pulled up my pants I found that my butt had grown so much that they were tight. As I did my tie the image in the mirror was silly. Looking back at me was a woman with short hair trying to pass as a man in his suit. I did not realize just how far my appearance had changed. I looked nothing like the man I was supposed to be. Panic started to set in and I began to sob. What was I going to do? They would never accept that I was him. I had to go to the funeral home and sign the documents. Then a crazy idea came into my mind. Grandmother had been dead for over five years. People had surely forgotten about her. How many of her friends were even still alive? The funeral home was in a neighboring town that she hardly ever visited, and it was a different one than she had been in when she passed. Actually she had been visiting New York when the heart attack took her, the funeral home she had been in was three states away. She was cremated and her ashes spread over the ocean. Was it possible that she could have not been missed here? She rarely went to town, 45 miles away. I went to the closet and looked at the purses. Sure enough, in a worn leather bag was her identification and wallet. Could I actually do it? What would I say if asked why Beatrice came in and not her grandson? For some insane reason I decided that it was my only choice. I was going to go claim the bodies, but I was going to claim my daughter and son in law. Looking at the clock I only had a few hours so I needed to hurry. Stripping off the suit I left it in a pile in the corner. I chose a long line full girdle and nude stockings, something she would wear for such an important appointment. The tightness of it felt like a hug and pushed the fat around my waist down to my hips. The top pulled my boobs up and together, I had some cleavage. After some indecision I chose a grey dress that buttoned all the way up to the collar, with full sleeves. The hem was mid-calf length. After doing my makeup and putting on her watch, I looked at her wedding set, she would never have left home without it on. Sensible pearl earrings and a spritz of Charlie perfume made me smile again. As I descended the stairs I enjoyed the sound of the one inch wedge heals I was wearing. A black wool coat, one last check of my hair, smart and curly, out the door I went to the sad event. As I drove I practiced her voice, or at least a feminine version of mine with a tinge of age added. I practiced my story. Yes, I had a heart attack a while ago and after I chose to stay close to home for fear of being alone if it occurred again. No, I had no idea why the papers were made out to my grandson, he was traveling in South America for work and would not return anytime soon. An hour later I was parked in front of the funeral home. You would expect that I would be scared, but for some reason I was confident in being me, Beatrice. As I approached the doors my reflection showed the 65 year old woman I was. Nothing suggested anything else. With a deep breath I went in. The man that met me was a little confused when I introduced myself and explained why I was there. Of course I had to fall back on my story, but after checking ID he gave me a sad smile and led me back to view my daughter and her husband. I did not have to fake being overcome with emotion seeing them. I excused myself to the ladies room and sobbed. After fixing my eyes, I went back out. I signed the death certificate as Beatrice. He explained that I should have a lawyer take a look at the will since it was all to my grandson, but since the home should still be in my name that it was just a formality. A woman of about 45 came out and notarized the papers then said she would file them with the state and I would receive copies in the mail. The bodies were to be donated to the university. I cried some more and then was escorted to my car. As I was getting in I promptly spilled my purse on the ground. Hastily the man helped me fill it back up and then patted my hand. Once he went inside I pulled away and started home. 30 minutes into the drive home it dawned on me that I had just resurrected my grandmother from the grave. Once the state had the papers she was alive again. For some reason I liked this idea. I could really be her when I wanted. At home I hung up my coat and went into the kitchen to make some tea. Looking in my purse for the copies of the will I found that something life changing for me had happened and it freaked me out. What I hadn't realized is that my male wallet had fallen under the car. I had left it in the street. It had every piece of my actually identity in it, driver's license, credit cards, SSN card, everything that identified me as David Jacobs, all I had now was proof that I was Beatrice Jacobs a woman, my own grandmother. Frantically I looked again. It was all gone. I figured I could try and get a new license but my picture would be wrong. I thought maybe my ex may have some old id of mine but that was a long shot. Finally I realized that I was exhausted and should change out of my dress into something more appropriate for home. In my bedroom I hung it up but found that I like wearing the girdle so left it on and put on a floral house dress over it. Perturbed I couldn't remember where I had left my slippers. "Bea what did you do with them, you can't walk around in your stocking feet or you may ruin your stockings." I said out loud and then froze. A realization hit me in the brain hard. Since getting dressed this morning a switch had flipped in my head. I had stopped thinking of the clothing, the house, the entire environment as hers. It had become mine. Everything was mine and I was supposed to wear the dresses. It felt normal to walk, talk, think and refer to this as me. The thought that I had just referred to myself as "Bea" was strange yet looking in the mirror it was even stranger to think of myself as "David" hell I had just basically become my grandmother! To the state, and to myself. Out of know where I came. Yes I had an orgasm with the knowledge that I was now my own grandmother! Worse, or better maybe, the orgasm was not followed with shame or regret, only calm. As I have explained I always had some regret or shame but not now. All I had was the urge to clean up and soak my panties in cold water so as not ruin them. I changed into new high waist satin panties and went to the bathroom to fill the sink. Just as I was going to walk out I opened the medicine cabinet. There on the shelf was Beatrice's meds. Just like most woman her age she had a few prescriptions, a blood pressure pill, daily low dose aspirin and an Estrogen pill. Unbeknownst to me she had had a hysterectomy in her 50s and the supplement calmed her hot flashes and kept her feeling feminine. Of course she could have stopped them but she felt that it was important to have the female hormone in her system. The side effects of the blood pressure med was mild joint pain, the Estrogen could cause confusion at times. In a male Estrogen had other effects. Then as if in a trance, I tapped out the daily dose of all three into my palm. Well, I thought, if I am Bea I need to stay healthy and swallowed them with a cup of water. Without another thought I went downstairs to fix another cup of tea and read through the will again. I really had no idea what I was doing to myself but at that moment it made perfect sense. My days settled into a routine. Up with the sun. Tea in my night gown and reading the news in my kitchen, I even was wearing her, no my, glasses now. It took some getting used to them but soon I actually needed them to see. After, a bath, take my meds, dress in my girdles and hose with a comfy house dress. By the end of the first week I had completely forgotten about David's identification. The side effects of my blood pressure meds gave me aches and pains, but what woman my age didn't feel sore in the joints. It wasn't until the six week mark that I noticed that my hormone replacement was changing me too. My nipples became sensitive and my skin softer. I really liked this. I shopped at the local grocery and was accepted always as myself. No one questioned the friendly elderly lady, I even had a few men introduce themselves and invited me out if I was interested. One man in particular was very nice. Bob Andrews, a widower that ran the pharmacy. We met when I went in to refill my prescriptions. He questioned how old they were but I was prepared with the story that I had just moved back and had lost the other bottles. He promptly rewrote the prescriptions and even updated them to a newer better hormone. Stronger but I would only need to take it once a day. I still took them twice, since I was really liking how my body was changing. True, I found that the new ones did have the effect of leaving me a little foggy at times but once again most women my age had moments like this. We were now having lunch once a week together at the diner. I even was giving him a peck on the cheek when we met or ended the date. Yes, I was dating a man. The weeks became months. At six months I stood in my mirror and admired my body. The estrogen had given me full C cup breasts that actually sagged like the older woman I was. My hips were round and my butt full. My little penis was now small and feminine. She did not get hard but still could give me pleasure when used a vibrator on her. My hair was my own, cute, grey and styled into a poodle cut. I still used my wig at times when I did not want to bother setting my hair, like I always did before. I honestly could not remember not being Beatrice these days, and if I thought about David he seemed far away and another person. He was my grandson that worked in another country. Then at 8 months after moving I was reminded of who I really was. It was just about noon on Sunday and Bob had just dropped me back at home after church. Being spring, I had worn a lovely pink floral empire waist Laura Ashley dress with white hose and was just slipping on my house shoes when the doorbell rang. Thinking that Bob must have forgotten something I called out "just a minute sweetie I will be right there" opening the door with a flourish I was presented with not my boyfriend but a woman in her 40's. She was wearing jeans and a black top. She had red hair and looked vaguely familiar. I smiled and asked may I help you young lady. Then all at once I recognized her. Standing on my front porch was David's ex-wife. Her hand went to her mouth, as she recognized me immediately. She let out a gasp and said "oh my Gawd." We stood for a moment more and then I apologized and asked her in. As I showed her into the kitchen she just kept staring. I offered her tea and in a soft voice she accepted. Then she asked me if I would please go change into my male things. At this request I was a little confused then I remembered that David had promised to always dress male around her. I hesitated, then slowly explained that I no longer had any of his things. "You mean you dress this way all the time now? And why are you referring to yourself in the third person?" She asked. I swept my skirt under me as I sat across from her. "I guess you deserve to know. The person you know as David is gone, there isn't even any proof of him for me to show you. I am Beatrice Jacobs his grandmother, legally, mentally and physically." I spent the next hour telling her the story of how I became Beatrice. At times she seemed mad, but finally she just looked sad. She gestured to my body and said "physically?" I invited her up to my bedroom to let her see since I needed to change out of my church dress. To my surprise she accepted. She said nothing as I removed my dress. Nothing as I took off my pantyhose. But when I took off my Bali bra exposing my breasts she gasped. I went to my dresser to get a long line girdle and support stockings she pointed at my panties. "Yes she is still there only very small, now. I have thought about having my birth defect fixed but at my age why bother." I said. "Birth defect? Your age? My god David your male, it's your penis and you are only 35, though I admit you look every bit of 60." I corrected her saying "I am 65 but thank you for the compliment. As far as male, look again and be honest with yourself. I am a woman. David is my grandson, sweetie." She didn't say another word, only sat and watched as I clipped my stockings to my girdle and slid my house dress on. After running a brush through my hair I left her there and went down to the kitchen. Finally she came down. I was about to ask her why she was here since we never got that far when she opened her purse and pulled out an envelope. "I received David's updated passport in the mail last week, so I thought I would surprise him and bring it up. Honestly I miss him and was hoping we could maybe try again, but now..." she trailed off. Looking down at the passport I saw his picture and remembered how he looked. Finally, I handed it back, "please take this with you. My grandson is not here honey. If I hear from him I will tell him to call you, but you know how these young men are when they are working abroad." She stood up and headed out into the hallway. When she opened the door, she turned and said, "Beatrice enjoy your old age." And walked out. I almost called after her to tell her to call me Bea, but decided she was in a hurry so I just waved. As I closed the door I said to myself "what I a nice girl, too bad she and David did not work out. I wonder if he will ever contact her again." Without realizing it another switch had been thrown in my brain. I really no longer was David, I never had been, I was Beatrice a plump friendly woman of 65. Now I had to hurry and start the chicken, Bob was supposed to be over for dinner at 6 and I was way behind. With that thought I had an orgasm. A year later Bob and I were married. I explained my birth defect and after lots of discussion he accepted me as me. He never questioned why. He loved me. He often told me I was the most feminine person he had ever met. Oh, and my daughter and son in laws room was eventually cleaned out, to make room for when our grandchildren visit. I love being a grandmother! Grandma Beatrice.