Suzie Taylor
11-19-2007, 06:21 AM
So, how did it all start for me? Well, from a very young age, around 5 or 6 I remember being in the playground at the local infant school, when another kid pointed to a girl saying something to the effect of “you see that little girl over there? Well she used to be a boy”. Well, that planted a seed (or possibly fertilised one!). One must remember that back in the late sixties (when this was) there was a lot going on about sex changes and I guess it made a connection with me. I recall dreaming about going into a factory and being ‘processed’ (not my words at the time obviously, education and time has transformed my then infantile vocabulary – although sometimes it slips!) and coming out the other end as a girl, lock stock and two smoking ones! Oh, if only eh? And I guess, that is the root of my struggle within (hey, is that what Metallica were referring to?)
Now I’ve seen posts on web sites, forums etc that talk about ‘sissy boys’, and not for any other reason than ‘to throw a line out and see what else I catch’, kind of approach, in the hope that I am not alone here (as I could believe thus far) I want to make it clear that I was very male at this time, well, throughout my life in fact, and hated most girls at that time and thought they were pathetic. Suffering fools it turns out, is not one of my fortes, even to this day. But there was a fascination about some of them, and this particular girl especially; she looked good.
I was particularly good at sport; even then no-one could touch me in a sprint. I could do any sport and I was pretty good in school too – reading being particularly good for my age. As I grew up and moved through school I continued to excel in sports, being appointed captain of the school (secondary comprehensive) rugby team (for you Americans, a game played with a similar shaped ball to what you call football only played at a much faster pace and without armour!). I’d get in fights, lose some, win some but never afraid to face up to any challenger – I was after all, fairly ‘stocky’ and muscular, even at 12. This seemed to attract the attentions of boys from the year above who for some reason felt the need to prove to their mates that they were tough by having a go at us (there was a core of us that would be targeted). All in all a fairly typical ‘boyhood’, definitely on the tough side; so where did this cross-dressing aspect come from, I hear you ask.
I certainly don’t attribute how I am to a period of my childhood that I wish didn’t happen; that of my father (adoptive) taking it upon himself to abuse me. He was in the motor trade and I used to love going to work with him on Saturdays or evenings where I’d learn how to repair and drive cars. And this was his opening – something to bribe me on I guess. I could drive by the age of 12 and recall being allowed to drive to his evening work when it was dark at around 14 years of age – (I subsequently went on to pass my test first time with no lessons –obviously not a female trait there eh? (joke!)) However, it was at a cost and I hated the fact that he did it, but obviously not enough to stop him doing it – I still have mixed feelings over why this was, I guess as a male I hate the thought of ‘doing it’ with another male (no offence to homosexuals, I have no problem with them in my presence and have known several) but I now accept that I could do it with a man as a woman, although then that certainly didn’t enter my mind at all. I know this was not a reason as to why I feel neither totally male nor totally female as the ideas had been flying around in my head for some years prior to this commencing, in one form or another, but wonder if it has shaped it in some way.
For as long as I can remember, I have had a fascination with the first identifiable pre-cursor; female underwear; panties to be exact; nylon, lace or silk panties and used to eagerly await my parent’s once a week night out to the local social club where I’d sneak into my mother’s draw and try on a pair – nervously of course. This went on for some time. One evening, after a couple of nights where mysteriously I had wet my bed at night (due to dreaming of being in need of a wee and feeling relieved that I’d made it to the toilet; how cruel that dream is) my mother decided to make me wear a pair of panties that had a sort of plastic panel in the front, in the belief that this would maybe prevent the effects of this ‘symptom’! Can you imagine my joy? I couldn’t show this at the time, obviously, but inside I couldn’t wait; it was bliss – I don’t think I slept that night; the same thing happened the next night but as it appeared it had worked, that was the last of it, damn! – should have pissed the bed again!
At school around the age of 14/15, I used to ogle at the girls in the class who sat immediately in front of us, or was it the other way around? Yes, for sure, we used to make a point of sitting behind them so as to enable us to gently pull their zips down on the back of their tight skirts. Their shape at this time was a real attraction, those hips with a tight skirt and delicate zip and when we were lucky a glimpse of their nylon panties. I’m not sure I realised the attraction was wanting to look like it but it certainly formed the core of many a night’s masturbation!
At this time I was continuing to ‘play’ with panties but wasn’t fortunate enough to own my own, as much I thought how nice this would be. I left school at 16 and joined the army. The first two years was hard training followed by my first posting, which was to West Germany (as it was then). I was in a very masculine world and whilst still occasionally thinking about my fascination I didn’t have as many opportunities to ‘practice’ as I shared dorms with other guys – and I was one of the toughest guys there, I even made it into a special forces outfit, which was possibly the highlight of my male life. The army was most certainly an institution for bullying, and anyone caught so much as inferring anything other than heterosexuality would be victimised. Some years later one of the lads in fact, whilst baby sitting for one of the ‘pads’ (married soldier) was caught in full suspenders and stockings et al that he’d helped himself to once they’d left for their evening out, when the guy and his wife returned unexpectedly. He was shipped off to somewhere in the UK for therapy as he was ‘clearly mentally ill’. And the ridicule! Well, clearly not something one would choose. How crap is that? I secretly felt for him. Now despite all I’ve just said, I’ve never really got on with other males. My circle of friends would always be very small and even then, my participation with mixing with them limited up to the point where they would act ‘stereotypically male’ (if there is such a thing) such as being into soccer, drinking beer and generally being ‘lad-ish’ or even tribal. I would far prefer to participate in sport, read, listen to music or be my own company than the latter.
Years came and went and finally I was in a position to be able to buy clothes from a known catalogue in the UK on the pretence of making some extra cash (one was awarded so much for each sale made) and this enabled me to start collecting my own wardrobe. I had many girlfriends and they were ‘tidy’ – I am in some ways, very lucky in that I have a very good male physique (would swap it tomorrow for a cute female one though!) and getting girls was never an issue. I would love it when they wore sexy underwear and would often leave it on them for ages, feeling the material and wishing I could feel them on me.
I married and divorced, not due to this I hasten to add and l skipped from girlfriend to girlfriend having fun, vowing never to get bogged down with anyone again (a result of the crap experienced from my ex) and successfully managed this, enjoying it to the full. It also allowed me time to dress whenever I wished as I could pick and choose when I wanted anyone around. But now, I realise there was something missing with this. Yes, it was good but being ‘en femme’ then wasn’t nearly as good as it is now. We talk about being in touch with our female side – well I can honestly say that I not only touch it, I have a damn good feel of it! I ended up meeting my present wife, does that sound temporary? It isn’t meant to as I intend staying with her for a long time to come. In fact, she’s far more to me than a wife; she’s my soul sister, sister, lover, best friend. I adore her and despite the 13 years difference (she younger) we have an almost uncanny similar mindset. Before I met her, I was adamant that I was to remain single, but one thing led to another and I realised, without looking (and possibly because of that) I had found someone special.
We have been together for some years now and we go a bit further with this fascination/lifestyle each time. I allow her to see other guys or girls (she’s bi) to make up for my lack of wishing to have ‘male sex’. Yes, I have discovered how to have female sex, and boy is it so much better. Takes bloody ages, but wow, well worth it. Now what helps, is being on Ephedrine. A discovery I inadvertantly made whilst riding long distances on my motorcycle in the south of France as an aid to keeping me awake. At the same time I noticed how much more heightened my female side became. My penis would all but disappear and I would be dying for a wee but not actually able to go, and almost paradoxically could hold it for longer – ideal when you don’t want to keep stopping! So, my wife, having taken it before, offered me some one day and we had an amazing experience. This has become fairly regular and the ability to create a perfect front flat effect and for breasts to remain enlarged after using a pump, is quite simply amazing. It brings a whole new meaning to ‘tucking’ and I find that the effect of this ability to have ‘nothing’ there, something I’d not experienced before even with tucking which normally leaves a slight lump or two, has a massive far more powerful effect on the brain than I can describe. You suddenly realise that your (male) life is led with this subconscious knowledge of a protrusion from your body beyond the confines of your pelvic area; when gone it is amazing and I’m sure is what adds to the feeling of being feminine. If only I could be on this more often and for longer. The diminishing effect of one’s inhibitions is fantastic. I feel so feminine and so ‘I don’t care if everyone knows’ attitude; it certainly allows you to speak so truthfully and I think it actually brings out your true feelings. It certainly heightens the feminine side of me, mentally and physically, whereby I have far more patience, far less aggression and a heightened sensitivity of sexual (female) triggers (nipples, pubic bone and that cavity between your legs, normally hard to locate due to the penis sheath obscuring it, which from the effects of ephedrine, is greatly reduced enabling a somewhat easier probing access!). And as I have said, my wife and I have the most amazing sex during this time – imagine having an orgasm without an erect penis, in fact, not just a lack of erection, but a complete lack of conscious awareness of it – fantastic. I would be fascinated to know as to whether this has been experienced by anyone else, particularly anyone who has undergone GRS or even who is taking m-f hormone therapy.
I am fascinated with the whole aspect of transgenderism, its various stages (as I believe cross-dressing is part of); I only wish there was more study into it. It isn’t a simple case of scale, how far to the feminine or how far to the masculine that someone is. How many times I’ve heard it said by blokes that it’s ‘manly’ to drink 10 pints of beer (and how many times I’ve seen them try, and then look complete prats as a result of it) thinking, well I’d struggle to down one, is this a gauge of masculinity? Or is it that ‘true blokes’ are just slobs, unhygienic and of low intellect? No, I think it far more complex than that. For me, I have done many ‘male’ adrenaline pumping experiences, enough to put most in the shade, yet I still feel really strongly in touch with a feminine side. And I have known many a female who could put most men to shame when it comes to similar experiences or challenges – so I think of it more as a ‘scatter chart'; certain bits of your male side and certain parts of your female side are spread around!
One day, some clever ******* will perfect brain transplanting – where we can all swap our bodies around, imagine that; pick a nice looking female body and off you go! Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll ever be able to ‘come out’. I would be the least convincing looking female on the planet (well, nearly) but I so would love to change that, I have seen some amazing transformations but it would require some seriously skilful surgery! – If only I had the money.
Now I’ve seen posts on web sites, forums etc that talk about ‘sissy boys’, and not for any other reason than ‘to throw a line out and see what else I catch’, kind of approach, in the hope that I am not alone here (as I could believe thus far) I want to make it clear that I was very male at this time, well, throughout my life in fact, and hated most girls at that time and thought they were pathetic. Suffering fools it turns out, is not one of my fortes, even to this day. But there was a fascination about some of them, and this particular girl especially; she looked good.
I was particularly good at sport; even then no-one could touch me in a sprint. I could do any sport and I was pretty good in school too – reading being particularly good for my age. As I grew up and moved through school I continued to excel in sports, being appointed captain of the school (secondary comprehensive) rugby team (for you Americans, a game played with a similar shaped ball to what you call football only played at a much faster pace and without armour!). I’d get in fights, lose some, win some but never afraid to face up to any challenger – I was after all, fairly ‘stocky’ and muscular, even at 12. This seemed to attract the attentions of boys from the year above who for some reason felt the need to prove to their mates that they were tough by having a go at us (there was a core of us that would be targeted). All in all a fairly typical ‘boyhood’, definitely on the tough side; so where did this cross-dressing aspect come from, I hear you ask.
I certainly don’t attribute how I am to a period of my childhood that I wish didn’t happen; that of my father (adoptive) taking it upon himself to abuse me. He was in the motor trade and I used to love going to work with him on Saturdays or evenings where I’d learn how to repair and drive cars. And this was his opening – something to bribe me on I guess. I could drive by the age of 12 and recall being allowed to drive to his evening work when it was dark at around 14 years of age – (I subsequently went on to pass my test first time with no lessons –obviously not a female trait there eh? (joke!)) However, it was at a cost and I hated the fact that he did it, but obviously not enough to stop him doing it – I still have mixed feelings over why this was, I guess as a male I hate the thought of ‘doing it’ with another male (no offence to homosexuals, I have no problem with them in my presence and have known several) but I now accept that I could do it with a man as a woman, although then that certainly didn’t enter my mind at all. I know this was not a reason as to why I feel neither totally male nor totally female as the ideas had been flying around in my head for some years prior to this commencing, in one form or another, but wonder if it has shaped it in some way.
For as long as I can remember, I have had a fascination with the first identifiable pre-cursor; female underwear; panties to be exact; nylon, lace or silk panties and used to eagerly await my parent’s once a week night out to the local social club where I’d sneak into my mother’s draw and try on a pair – nervously of course. This went on for some time. One evening, after a couple of nights where mysteriously I had wet my bed at night (due to dreaming of being in need of a wee and feeling relieved that I’d made it to the toilet; how cruel that dream is) my mother decided to make me wear a pair of panties that had a sort of plastic panel in the front, in the belief that this would maybe prevent the effects of this ‘symptom’! Can you imagine my joy? I couldn’t show this at the time, obviously, but inside I couldn’t wait; it was bliss – I don’t think I slept that night; the same thing happened the next night but as it appeared it had worked, that was the last of it, damn! – should have pissed the bed again!
At school around the age of 14/15, I used to ogle at the girls in the class who sat immediately in front of us, or was it the other way around? Yes, for sure, we used to make a point of sitting behind them so as to enable us to gently pull their zips down on the back of their tight skirts. Their shape at this time was a real attraction, those hips with a tight skirt and delicate zip and when we were lucky a glimpse of their nylon panties. I’m not sure I realised the attraction was wanting to look like it but it certainly formed the core of many a night’s masturbation!
At this time I was continuing to ‘play’ with panties but wasn’t fortunate enough to own my own, as much I thought how nice this would be. I left school at 16 and joined the army. The first two years was hard training followed by my first posting, which was to West Germany (as it was then). I was in a very masculine world and whilst still occasionally thinking about my fascination I didn’t have as many opportunities to ‘practice’ as I shared dorms with other guys – and I was one of the toughest guys there, I even made it into a special forces outfit, which was possibly the highlight of my male life. The army was most certainly an institution for bullying, and anyone caught so much as inferring anything other than heterosexuality would be victimised. Some years later one of the lads in fact, whilst baby sitting for one of the ‘pads’ (married soldier) was caught in full suspenders and stockings et al that he’d helped himself to once they’d left for their evening out, when the guy and his wife returned unexpectedly. He was shipped off to somewhere in the UK for therapy as he was ‘clearly mentally ill’. And the ridicule! Well, clearly not something one would choose. How crap is that? I secretly felt for him. Now despite all I’ve just said, I’ve never really got on with other males. My circle of friends would always be very small and even then, my participation with mixing with them limited up to the point where they would act ‘stereotypically male’ (if there is such a thing) such as being into soccer, drinking beer and generally being ‘lad-ish’ or even tribal. I would far prefer to participate in sport, read, listen to music or be my own company than the latter.
Years came and went and finally I was in a position to be able to buy clothes from a known catalogue in the UK on the pretence of making some extra cash (one was awarded so much for each sale made) and this enabled me to start collecting my own wardrobe. I had many girlfriends and they were ‘tidy’ – I am in some ways, very lucky in that I have a very good male physique (would swap it tomorrow for a cute female one though!) and getting girls was never an issue. I would love it when they wore sexy underwear and would often leave it on them for ages, feeling the material and wishing I could feel them on me.
I married and divorced, not due to this I hasten to add and l skipped from girlfriend to girlfriend having fun, vowing never to get bogged down with anyone again (a result of the crap experienced from my ex) and successfully managed this, enjoying it to the full. It also allowed me time to dress whenever I wished as I could pick and choose when I wanted anyone around. But now, I realise there was something missing with this. Yes, it was good but being ‘en femme’ then wasn’t nearly as good as it is now. We talk about being in touch with our female side – well I can honestly say that I not only touch it, I have a damn good feel of it! I ended up meeting my present wife, does that sound temporary? It isn’t meant to as I intend staying with her for a long time to come. In fact, she’s far more to me than a wife; she’s my soul sister, sister, lover, best friend. I adore her and despite the 13 years difference (she younger) we have an almost uncanny similar mindset. Before I met her, I was adamant that I was to remain single, but one thing led to another and I realised, without looking (and possibly because of that) I had found someone special.
We have been together for some years now and we go a bit further with this fascination/lifestyle each time. I allow her to see other guys or girls (she’s bi) to make up for my lack of wishing to have ‘male sex’. Yes, I have discovered how to have female sex, and boy is it so much better. Takes bloody ages, but wow, well worth it. Now what helps, is being on Ephedrine. A discovery I inadvertantly made whilst riding long distances on my motorcycle in the south of France as an aid to keeping me awake. At the same time I noticed how much more heightened my female side became. My penis would all but disappear and I would be dying for a wee but not actually able to go, and almost paradoxically could hold it for longer – ideal when you don’t want to keep stopping! So, my wife, having taken it before, offered me some one day and we had an amazing experience. This has become fairly regular and the ability to create a perfect front flat effect and for breasts to remain enlarged after using a pump, is quite simply amazing. It brings a whole new meaning to ‘tucking’ and I find that the effect of this ability to have ‘nothing’ there, something I’d not experienced before even with tucking which normally leaves a slight lump or two, has a massive far more powerful effect on the brain than I can describe. You suddenly realise that your (male) life is led with this subconscious knowledge of a protrusion from your body beyond the confines of your pelvic area; when gone it is amazing and I’m sure is what adds to the feeling of being feminine. If only I could be on this more often and for longer. The diminishing effect of one’s inhibitions is fantastic. I feel so feminine and so ‘I don’t care if everyone knows’ attitude; it certainly allows you to speak so truthfully and I think it actually brings out your true feelings. It certainly heightens the feminine side of me, mentally and physically, whereby I have far more patience, far less aggression and a heightened sensitivity of sexual (female) triggers (nipples, pubic bone and that cavity between your legs, normally hard to locate due to the penis sheath obscuring it, which from the effects of ephedrine, is greatly reduced enabling a somewhat easier probing access!). And as I have said, my wife and I have the most amazing sex during this time – imagine having an orgasm without an erect penis, in fact, not just a lack of erection, but a complete lack of conscious awareness of it – fantastic. I would be fascinated to know as to whether this has been experienced by anyone else, particularly anyone who has undergone GRS or even who is taking m-f hormone therapy.
I am fascinated with the whole aspect of transgenderism, its various stages (as I believe cross-dressing is part of); I only wish there was more study into it. It isn’t a simple case of scale, how far to the feminine or how far to the masculine that someone is. How many times I’ve heard it said by blokes that it’s ‘manly’ to drink 10 pints of beer (and how many times I’ve seen them try, and then look complete prats as a result of it) thinking, well I’d struggle to down one, is this a gauge of masculinity? Or is it that ‘true blokes’ are just slobs, unhygienic and of low intellect? No, I think it far more complex than that. For me, I have done many ‘male’ adrenaline pumping experiences, enough to put most in the shade, yet I still feel really strongly in touch with a feminine side. And I have known many a female who could put most men to shame when it comes to similar experiences or challenges – so I think of it more as a ‘scatter chart'; certain bits of your male side and certain parts of your female side are spread around!
One day, some clever ******* will perfect brain transplanting – where we can all swap our bodies around, imagine that; pick a nice looking female body and off you go! Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll ever be able to ‘come out’. I would be the least convincing looking female on the planet (well, nearly) but I so would love to change that, I have seen some amazing transformations but it would require some seriously skilful surgery! – If only I had the money.