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Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2001 16:07:04 -0800 (PST)
From: Rita Opal <rita@molard.ca>
Subject: The Three Sisters
This story gives my usual TS heroine a rest, and deals with the idyllic
relationship a young cross dresser has with his big sister; a visit to TV
heaven.
THE THREE SISTERS
1. Reg Tells The Story.
Our parents had both died in an accident, some years previously,
and I lived with my two elder sisters in the family home. We were
quite well provided for, and my eldest sister Marianne was
nominally the head of the household. She was 21, and the second
sister, Linda was two years younger; I was another two years
younger than her. We got on very well, and had a happy life
together; sometimes we went our separate ways, and followed our
own interests, but we felt a sense of community which was not at
all overpowering.
We had been raised fairly liberally, and had no particular
hangups about lifestyles; we had also been used to taking the
differences in our bodies and genders as a matter of course, and
though we all enjoyed our privacy at times, we did not have
excessive modesty about our clothing. Quite often we saw one
another dressed for bed, or partially dressed, and it was not a
source of any awkwardness or embarrassment. I was fairly used to
the ways of girls, and women, and did not experience any
discomfort because of my status as the sole male member of the
household. I did think about gender differences from time to
time, and even found it interesting to speculate about life on
the other side, but there was no sense of urgency or frustration
about such things.
Early one evening, Marianne was getting herself ready to go out;
I happened to pass her bedroom, and the door was open, as often
happened, so I glanced in idly. She was standing in front of her
mirror, wearing a sleek black girdle with a matching bra, and she
was just completing the task of fastening her six suspenders to a
pair of sheer black stockings. She fixed the last one to her
satisfaction, and then looked up; she saw me and smiled
nonchalantly "Hi, Reg," she said. "I'm getting myself ready for
my evening out, and I thought it would be a good occasion to try
this new girdle; it fits beautifully, and it really feels
wonderful." "It looks very nice indeed," I said, and went on
through to the living room. I heard her walking around her room
in her heels, and then she came out to join me; she was wearing a
peignoir over her girdle and bra, but she didn't go to great
pains to make sure she had it wrapped all around her.
She smiled at me again. "I'm sorry, Reg," she said; "I wasn't
thinking. I probably wasn't dressed in the most appropriate way
to expose myself to a tender young lad like yourself. I know we
are a bit casual in our ways here, but I should really have kept
my bedroom door shut." "Oh, don't worry about it," I said; "it
really did look very nice -- a sight any male would appreciate."
Our rapport with one another was very good, and we had a great
deal of fun kidding one another. "I hope you weren't too
excited," she said; "it wouldn't be a good idea to get you
frustrated; I believe I was presenting myself in fairly classic
pin-up mode." "I suppose you were, but I think I can handle it.
That's supposed to be the advantage of having sisters -- that one
gets a chance to learn some of the esoteric secrets of
femininity." Marianne was something of a student of the human
condition, and was familiar with many of the strange habits that
people exhibit on occasion; she couldn't resist probing, to add
to her large accumulation of facts. "Did the sight have any
effect on you?" she asked quite seriously. I thought for a
moment; "I found it very attractive," I said, "but there was
something more than that. I don't think it was sexual. I think I
had a strange sense of curiosity. It struck me that in some
respects male and female clothing is really very different, and I
wondered what it might be like to wear the sort of things you
were wearing."
"That's an interesting response," she said. "You must have heard
or read about transvestites; they're men who for one reason or
another enjoy wearing women's clothing. Sometimes they even
present themselves fully as women, and go out in public. There
are one or two at the bar I go to sometimes. I don't really know
why, but I find myself quite empathetic to them. Anyway, I must
finish getting ready, so I'll forego giving you a complete
psychological examination on your attitudes; you might equally
well wonder about mine." She grinned, and went back to her room,
leaving me sitting with my magazine, but also with a strange
sense of excitement. Somehow, the idea of men wearing female
clothing had a strange effect on me, and I couldn't get it out of
my mind.
The topic came back to my mind from time to time over the next
few days; it did have a certain fascination for me, and I must
admit that my curiosity had been aroused. One evening the three
of us were sitting down to dinner together, and out of the blue
Marianne raised the matter again. "I was out with my girl friend
Shiela last night, and just for entertainment we went to that
lesbian place Sappho's; there were some quite interesting people
there." "Were there a lot of women dressed in a very masculine
way?" asked Linda. "Yes, there were some," said Marianne, "but
there were also some very feminine looking people that I don't
think were women at all." "Men in drag?" "Yes; they're called
cross dressers or transvestites in the books. There were two of
them for sure." "That's interesting," said Linda, "I wonder why
they want to do that; is it because they are gay?" "They aren't
usually," expounded Marianne; "if you think about it, gays are
men who are sexually interested in other men. These are men who
just like the idea of presenting themselves as women -- they
enjoy being girls." "I can understand that," said Linda. "I think
it's fun being a girl, and I can see why a man would want to have
some of the nice experiences. They don't have the same pleasure
with their clothes, as we do, nor making themselves pretty."
I listened to this exchange with great interest, but I didn't
make any comment, and the conversation flagged for a few minutes.
Marianne eventually broke the silence: "I agree with you, Linda;
when I think about it, I wonder why many more men don't want to
explore the pleasures of femininity." She looked at me, quite
serious, and continued. "Would you like to try wearing women's
clothing, Reg? If you have any interest in doing so, I think you
should explore it, and I for one would be quite understanding; it
would even be fun to help you." "It would!" put in Linda. "I
think it would be wonderful if Reg wanted to try being a girl; it
would be like having a new sister." I was completely nonplussed
by this turn in the conversation, but I was very intrigued; I
tried to brush it off by saying "What is this? It sounds like you
are ganging up on me in a feminine recruitment drive." Marianne
was quite serious, though, and she said to me with a wonderful
kindness "No, it isn't like that. But there are men who are very
interested, and all I wanted to do was tell you that if you had
any such inclination, you shouldn't feel awkward about it. I must
admit, too, that I'm curious about your reaction to the idea."
That really put me on the spot, and I thought about how to
answer. There was such a wonderful rapport between the three of
us, that I decided to be completely candid. "I hadn't thought
about it at all, until the other day," I said, "but I have to
admit now that I am curious. I have always liked feminine
clothing to look at, and I think I am beginning to get a desire
to see how it might feel. In a strange way, what Linda said
appeals to me; it would be nice to wear a pretty dress, like the
ones the two of you wear, and for us to spend an evening
together. I like the idea of being one of three, and not the odd
one out." Linda smiled at me, and hugged me; "I think that would
really be fun," she said. "I'm sure we can find some pretty
dresses that you would enjoy wearing, and would suit you. Of
course you would have to wear all the proper things underneath!"
"I know," I said, "but they're the things I am really curious
about; they seem to be really feminine, and I am beginning to
like the idea of trying out some feminine things." Marianne was
smiling in her kind way too. "I understand that, Reg," she said.
"I can see why such things might appeal to you, and I think
you're being quite brave in admitting the way you feel to us. As
Linda said, it really is fun being a girl; in some respects we
have more freedom than men do, since there really aren't any
restrictions on what women can wear. I have never understood why
men can't enjoy the same freedom, and I would encourage you to
try some nice clothes, if only to feel you have the same choice
we do on how to express yourself."
We occupied ourselves as usual after dinner, and neither of them
pursued the fascinating topic that had livened up the meal. Just
about when we were getting ready to go to bed, Marianne spoke to
me again: "Don't feel that there is any rush, or that you are
under any pressure from us," she said. "It's simply that if one
day you feel you might like to try wearing some nice feminine
clothes, or even presenting yourself fully as a girl, please just
say so. We'll understand, and we'll be there to help you with
whatever you would like to try." "Thanks, Marianne," I said;
"you're a wonderful big sister, and I feel very close to you. I
think that I would like to try things one day soon, and I shall
be quite as ease with you and Linda. Goodnight." As I went to my
room, I felt strangely liberated, and I realised that a seed had
been planted; somehow I knew that the urge to follow through
would be irresistible.
A couple of weekends later the weather was dull and miserable,
and none of us had any desire to leave the house. We all had
things to do, and spent the morning busy with our own particular
interests. By lunchtime, I was beginning to get a little bored,
and the discussion with Marianne came into my mind; I found
myself more and more fascinated by the idea of trying out
feminine clothing, and I felt an urge to do so that became
stronger and stronger. We sat down for a bite to eat, and I
noticed that my sisters seemed to be at something of a loose end
too. The effect of the weather was quite depressing, and the
tasks we normally found interesting were beginning to get
tiresome. "It's odd how the weather affects the way I feel," said
Marianne. "I've got all kinds of things to do, but for some
reason I can't get into them with too much enthusiasm. It's too
bad we don't have some exciting game we could play to cheer us
all up, and make us forget about the weather." "You're right,"
said Linda, "but there don't seem to be any good games for three
that we all enjoy. How is it going with you, Reg?" "I feel just
about the same," I said. "If the weather was decent, I'm at the
point where I would be ready to go outside for a bit, just for a
break. I really need something new to do, for a change of pace."
Marianne looked at me with a sparkle of interest in her eyes, and
her unspoken question was quite clear to me. I knew this was the
time to give in to my desires, and though I felt a little
sheepish about admitting to them, I decided to be completely open
about them.
"It might be a good time for me to see what fun it really is
being a girl," I said. "To be honest, I've been thinking about it
all morning, and I have quite a strong urge to see what nice
feminine clothes are like." "Oh, Reg! That would be wonderful,"
said Linda. " It would be a perfect thing to do on a day like
this, and I really would like to have a new sister." She was
quite enthused, and hugged me. Marianne smiled at the response;
"It is a good time," she said, "and I think I would enjoy it too.
I'm sure that when Reg finds out what he's been missing, he'll
have a lot of fun as well." Ever practical, she started to think
about the logistics; "I think we're about the same build, Reg,"
she said; "I would imagine that a lot of my things would fit you
quite well. What would you like to try?" "I'm not really sure," I
replied; "but I think I ought to try a complete outfit, and do it
properly." "Oh, you should," said Linda; "I think you should wear
stockings, and a proper foundation, under your dress. With a nice
pair of panties and a slip, you'll really feel wonderful wearing
a pretty dress. You must try everything!" "How do you feel about
that, Reg?" asked Marianne. "Would you like to wear a girdle, and
stockings with suspenders?" I felt as if a raw nerve had been
touched at the word 'suspenders', and I felt a keen excitement;
they were things I thought of as being particularly feminine, and
I found myself stimulated by the thought of wearing them myself.
"Yes. I would. I want to dress completely as a girl, and I think
they are part of the experience."
It was a strange feeling; I felt very close to my two sisters,
and I was quite overcome by their unqualified acceptance. Their
straightforward reactions made the situation completely
unthreatening, and made me all the more keen to see what the
experience would be like. "It's probably best to do it in my
room," said Marianne; "that's where my clothes are, and there is
plenty of space. Why don't you have a nice hot bath, and freshen
yourself up completely, Reg; then you can join us there. Linda
can help me tidy up a bit, so the room is presentable." The two
girls went off to Marianne's large bedroom, and I went to my
room; there I took off all my clothes, and put on my bathrobe. In
the bathroom, I decided I might as well do everything I could to
follow the scenario, so I took some of Linda's bath crystals, and
poured them into the hot water. They produced bubbles and a
pervasive fragrance that struck me as being very feminine. I sunk
into the tub, and luxuriated for quite a long time. Finally I got
myself out, and dried myself off, then, clad in my terrycloth
bathrobe, I walked over to Marianne's room. She and Linda were
having quite an animated discussion. "I really think a corselette
would be best," Marianne was saying. I realised that they were
discussing what might be most appropriate for me, and again I was
quite overcome by their accepting attitude; they weren't giggling
together, or finding my possible choices of clothing amusing --
they were quite seriously considering what might work the best.
"Well here I am," I said; I think I'm ready to try being the
third sister."
"Linda and I were discussing what sort of foundation would be
best," said Marianne. "So I gather," I said; "what was the
verdict?" I was all agog to start now, feeling completely
uninhibited by the relaxed atmosphere my two wonderful sisters
were generating. "Well," said Marianne, "the basic problem is the
difference in body shape; males have a much less pronounced waist
than females, and female things like girdles are designed with
the assumption that the wearer's hip size is about ten inches
larger than her waist. That's not true at all for men. I think to
get a girdle nice and snug round the hips, it will really be too
tight at the waist; that will be very uncomfortable, and it will
also tend to roll down. I think the answer is an all-in-one, a
corselette; they are somewhat more accommodating, and there also
won't be a problem with the gap between your bra and girdle."
"I'm in your hands," I said; "I know you are the experts." I had
quite a twinge of excitement at the casual way Marianne had said
'your' bra and girdle. "I think Marianne's right," said Linda;
"she rather likes corselettes anyway, but my preference is for
something a little less extensive." "So where do we start?" I
asked. "Well," said Marianne smiling, "there's the perennial
question about panties; should they be under or over? They look
much nicer underneath, and you always see them worn that way in
pictures, but it's rather impractical on certain occasions."
Linda giggled; "In the bathroom," she said: "every time you have
to undo, and then do up all your suspenders." This was getting
quite interesting; "So what should I do?" Marianne considered; I
think you should wear your panties underneath," she said. "It is
impractical sometimes, but it's much better esthetically, and
there's also another consideration." "Oh. What's that?" "The
matter of your delicate sensibilities, not to mention ours. You
might feel more at ease with certain things nicely covered up."
"Now you mention it, I think I would," I said. "Of course Linda
and I know what men's bodies are like, and I don't think it would
be a real problem for us; realistically we have to deal with
bodies the way they are, if we are going to try such intimate
garments." I wasn't too concerned at them seeing me naked, but
there was one possibility that crossed my mind, and it could
prove embarrassing; I wondered if they had thought about it, and
were being discreet." "I think I should start out with panties,"
I said; "I don't think the inconvenience will be a problem."
Marianne was searching through one of her drawers; she found what
she was looking for, and came over to me holding what looked
liked a few folds of filmy lacy pink nylon. "These are nice
panties," she said. "Put them on, then you'll be decent, and we
can go ahead and sort out what other things would be best. I
should get a nice feminine robe for you too, so you get the feel
of things right from the start." "I hope they're not your best
ones," I said. "It's very kind of you to let me try wearing your
things like this, but I wouldn't want to mess anything up." "You
won't," she said cheerfully. "Panties are easy to get, anyway,
and if you like wearing them, we can always get some for your
own." I stepped into the delicate garment, with a sense of
excitement; I felt that I was beginning a completely new venture,
and I was now very interested to see where it would lead me. I
quickly pulled them up my legs, and once they were in place, and
I was 'decent' I felt much more at ease. There was another effect
that I hadn't anticipated, though; I felt my penis responding to
my excitement, and it was further stimulated by being closely
confined in the filmy pink nylon. I tried to ignore that; I
realised that the panties had a wonderful texture, and they felt
cool and sensuous on my skin. They fit quite snugly, but they
were very comfortable. Marianne and Linda looked at me with a
critical eye; "They do fit quite well," Marianne said. "They're
pretty and feminine, and they look nice on you, Reg." I felt more
stirrings at this comment, and I began to fear that there might
be a problem I hadn't bargained for. My two sisters were not
ignorant at all about the male anatomy, but I wondered if they
were familiar with some explicit details of its mechanism; I
hoped that they weren't, and they would simply see a bulge where
they would expect there to be something of the sort.
Marianne came over to me with a fluffy pink peignoir; "Try this
on," she said. "It will give you a taste of the nice feeling of
feminine clothes, and also keep you covered and warm while we
consider what comes next. The peignoir felt delicious; it gave me
a wonderful feeling over the whole of my body, and had a
wonderful light caressing feeling that I was utterly unused to.
It was becoming apparent that male clothes were very different
from the sensuous garments I now wore. "It does feel nice," I
said; "maybe you're right, and females really are the privileged
members of our society. When clothes feel like this, I can
understand why one would get so much enjoyment from them."
Marianne smiled at me, and Linda hugged me again. "I think you
are going to be a wonderful new sister for us," she said.
Marianne was over looking through drawers again, and she returned
with a garment that looked stretchy, with delicate shoulder
straps, and suspenders dangling from it; my heart missed a beat.
"This is a corselette," she said. "It's an all-in-one foundation,
so it serves as a bra, it controls the figure, and it is more
than adequate in supporting stockings. It's a nice stretchy one,
and you'll have to ease your way into it; it doesn't have any
hook and eye or zipper fastenings like some of them do. You may
find it a bit tight, but it will accommodate itself to your
shape." She smiled, and added "What's more to the point, it will
accommodate your shape somewhat." It was dazzling white, and I
could see subtle textures in the stretchy material. I took off
the peignoir, and prepared myself for the exciting experience of
trying a real feminine foundation garment. Marianne held it open,
by the shoulder straps, and got me to step in between them;
pulling it up over my legs was easy, but it had to be stretched
and eased over my hips and torso. With some wriggling from me,
and some tugging by Marianne, it was finally over my abdomen, and
Marianne then asked me to put each arm in turn through one of the
shoulder straps; this involved some more tugging, but finally the
straps were in position on my shoulders, and I was encased in the
tight, but not uncomfortable, stretchy fabric. There were also
two prominent lacy cups located on my chest, one right over each
of my nipples.
"Just a moment," Marianne said; "there's another way our bodies
differ as well. To get the real feel of this garment, and what it
does for you, you'll have to use these." She had a couple of pads
in her hand, and I realised that they were actually quite
realistic breast forms. She popped one of them into my bra cup
one side, then did the same with the other, then she pulled and
smoothed a little before she stood back satisfied. "They are not
only the right shape as the real thing," she said, "they are also
about the right weight. So you'll not only have the proper
feminine figure, you'll also get the right feel; the straps will
dig into your shoulders just a bit, but that's what we have to
live with. It certainly looks wonderful." It felt wonderful too;
I had a sense of restriction and containment, but it was not
excessive, and was comforting rather than oppressive. "Try
walking up and down," Marianne suggested, "and you'll get the
feel of it." I did, and the effect was delicious and captivating.
I felt the gentle constraint all over my body, and the material
gave and stretched in a wonderfully stimulating way as I walked.
I was aware too of the tugging on my bra straps, and that made me
very conscious of the prominent bosom displayed on my chest. I
liked the effect, and as I walked to and fro, I found it
exciting, and once again felt stirrings in my groin. They were
well constrained now, as the hem of the corselette fitted snug
round my hips, and the panties restraining my penis were held
firmly in place. I enjoyed the sensations, knowing that the
effect would not easily be apparent to my two sisters.
Linda seemed to be enjoying the experience as much as I was. She
came and took me by the hand; "You look wonderful," she said. "It
really is right for you, just like Marianne said. Come and see
yourself!" She led me over to the mirror on the dressing table,
and I looked at my reflection in awe. My head and face made it
somewhat incongruous, but from the neck down the image was
undeniably feminine; it was really quite sexy, with its
suspenders dangling provocatively from the hem of the corselette,
and I felt a thrill of excitement to realise that I was looking
at an image of myself. I didn't know what to say, and I put my
arms round Linda and hugged her. Marianne looked at us happily;
"It is nice to have two sisters," she said. "Even if it's only
for a while, we can enjoy doing nice femme things together. Now
we get to the best part: stockings." She took out a pair of sheer
filmy nylons, and came over to me. "There are a lot of nice
things about being a girl," she said, "but I think wearing things
like this is one of the nicest." She led me over to the bed. "You
should sit down to start with; once we have your feet in the
stockings, then you'll have to stand up, so that we can get the
suspenders just right." I sat on the edge of the bed as directed,
and Marianne bunched up one of the stockings; she left a little
pocket for me to put my toes into, and when I had done that she
eased the material back over my foot. She repeated the actions
with my other foot, and then both my feet were fully encased in
sheer grey nylon. "Stand up, now," she said, "and Linda, I think
it would be good to do this as a team." She kneeled down just
behind my right leg, and she was joined by Linda on the other
side. They both started to unroll the stockings, and stretch them
out, easing them very carefully up my legs. The delicious tactile
sensations as they did this were undescribable, and I just let
myself relax and wallow in the sensations. I felt the delicate
caresses working their way up my legs, and finally I felt the
bands at the dark tops of the stockings fitting firmly round the
middle of my thighs. I was in heaven; the feel of the delicate
nylon sheath encasing my legs was ecstatic. There were even
greater pleasures to come; "They do seem to be just the right
size," said Marianne; "I'm so glad, as it wouldn't have been very
nice at all if things didn't fit properly. The suspenders should
be just right." I felt tugs then on the hem or my corselette, at
the back; then the stockings were pulled up, and I felt the
intricate attachment as the suspenders were firmly fixed to the
stockings. "That's exactly right!" said Marianne with jubilation,
then I felt the two of them tugging my suspenders down at the
side to meet the stockings; they were soon attached firmly, and
the sensuous feel of my stockings was enhanced by a subtle
tension. It gave me a delightful tactile sensation over the whole
of my legs, and I was also aware of the elastic bands of the
suspenders stretched taut over my thighs. The two girls moved
round to kneel in front of me, and this time I could watch what
they were doing as they attached the two remaining suspenders at
the front. They tugged the suspenders down, pushed the ribbon at
the end under the stocking material so that the little rubber
protrusion was covered by the nylon; then they slid the metal
loops over the protrusions, firmly gripping the delicate stocking
material, and tugging it gently upwards towards the anchoring hem
of the corselette. They finished their task and stood up; Linda
walked round me carefully examining the overall effect.
"Everything's just right," she said. "Doesn't that feel good,
Reg? That must make you really feel like a girl." She hugged me
happily again.
"It certainly does feel good," I said. "I don't really know what
it's like to feel like a girl, but this is an experience girls
have, and I am enjoying it immensely. I supposed that does make
me feel like a girl." It did feel wonderful; I walked a few
steps, and felt the tug of the suspenders change subtly as they
accommodated themselves to the changing position of my legs. The
overall effect was overwhelming; I also became aware once again
of an intense pressure in my groin, and I wasn't sure what to do
about it. I smiled weakly at my two wonderful sisters; "It's a
wonderful feeling," I said; "it's really very exciting, and I am
almost overcome by it." Marianne caught the strange tone of my
voice, and took my hand; she led me over to the bed. "I imagine
it might be quite overpowering, feeling all those nice sensations
for the first time," she said. "Why don't you lie down and relax
for a few minutes. You can enjoy the lovely sensations, and then
when you're a bit more used to them we can look out a nice dress
for you to wear." "I'd like that," I said; "but maybe I should
lie down for a while, and get used to the idea of feeling like a
girl." I smiled weakly again, but thinking of myself in feminine
terms added to the effect the clothing was having on me, and I
decided to try and lie quietly to get used to it. Marianne sat on
the edge of the bed, and quietly held my hand. "Just enjoy it,"
she said; "I can understand the way you feel, but it's something
I do pretty well every day, so it's hard to remember the way it
was at first. I do love wearing things like that." I saw her make
a gesture to Linda, but its significance didn't really register.
Then I heard the door close, and I realised that Linda had left
us.
"I really do understand," Marianne said to me quietly. "I
actually know a couple of men who cross dress, and they got me
quite interested, so I have also done some reading. All the nice
sensations we are talking about are there, and they are very
enjoyable, but I know that for you there's something else
happening as well. It's a lot of fun being a girl, and dressing
like a girl, but for some males it can be very exciting sexually.
I think that's happening to you." I nodded. I was amazed at her
perception, but I was so relaxed in her company that I felt no
embarrassment at what was happening; she was taking it in her
stride, almost as a matter of course, and her attitude made me
feel quite at ease. "We have to think about what to do now," said
Marianne; "you need a release, and when that's taken care of,
then we carry on with our fun." "Oh, Marianne," I said, "I'm
sorry about this, but you're so understanding." She smiled at me,
very kindly; "It's the way things are," she said, "and it's quite
natural. I don't really see why we should make too much of a fuss
about it. We haven't talked too much about sex; maybe that's
right and proper since we're brother and sister, but we have
always been quite free and easy with one another; I like the
relationship we have, and I don't see why we can't be natural
enough with one another to accommodate a little problem like
this." I clasped her hand, and was almost choked up by her
incredible understanding and empathy."
"Don't worry about what's happened, Reg," she continued; "now
that it has happened, you might as well make the most of it. I do
know something about male sexual response, and I think you're in
such a state of excitement that you should relieve it. I think it
might be best if I were just to help you by hand; it will
certainly allow you to relax again, without making things
unpleasant, but it won't be too improper." I was amazed by her
pragmatic attitude, and nodded my acquiescence. "I'll get an old
pair of panties," she said, going over to the dressing table;
"they should feel nice, and hopefully you won't mess up anything
you have on now." She returned with some powder blue frilly
ruffled panties, and reached under the hem of my corselette to
pull at the waistband of the ones I was wearing. She eased them
down very gently indeed, and got them free of the corselette;
they were under the suspenders, and formed a ring of lacy pink
nylon round the tops of my stockings. My penis was released from
its nylon prison, and stood up stiffly; I was far too excited now
to feel any sense of embarrassment being exposed that way in
front of my sister. She looked at it with interest, but in quite
a matter-of-fact way; "It certainly seems ready," she said. She
sat on the bed by my side, and half reclined on one elbow; she
held the frilly panties in her free hand, and she carefully
wrapped them round my tumescent penis. "You got excited like this
because you were wearing these lovely things," Marianne said
softly; "and I think you reacted strongly to thinking of yourself
as feminine, and being a girl. Now we've prepared ourselves for
what might happen, we should follow through. In spite of what I
have in my hand, now, you do look like a nice pretty girl wearing
those clothes, and some of the things you are feeling are
feminine. Why don't you just close your eyes, enjoy the nice
sensations from your clothes, and imagine that you are a girl
being introduced to sexual pleasure by her partner?" The
suggestion excited me intensely, and my penis quivered in
response; Marianne started to move her hand slowly up and down
the shaft, and she fingered the glans delicately. "Does that feel
good?" she said. "Sex is wonderful for a girl, too. It's a
fantastic feeling to realise that your partner has penetrated
inside you, and as the sensitive parts there are stimulated the
excitement builds and builds. Just imagine you are a girl, and
you feel the motion of your partner inside you."
I did just that, and her gentle stimulating fingers, combined
with the new and exciting tactile sensations from the clothes I
was wearing triggered the most intense orgasm I had ever
experienced. My penis pulsated violently, and its spasms induced
exquisite feelings of pleasure that were enhanced to an extreme
degree by the rather contradictory sense of femininity that had
possession of me. Like male orgasms, it was quickly over, and I
lay back on the bed with a deep sense of satisfaction and
euphoria. My thought processes began gradually to return to
something like normality, and I realised the significance of what
had happened; Marianne was my sister, and out of innate kindness
and concern for me, she had helped me to achieve the most intense
sexual experience of my young life. I looked up at her, and saw
she was smiling happily; "That was absolutely wonderful,
Marianne," I said. "I'm so glad," she replied; "it was something
that had to happen, and I feel very pleased that I was able to
help you. I do know a little bit about the male system, and also,
as it happens, about the way cross dressing can affect it, and I
wasn't taken by surprise." "You'd thought about it ahead of time,
hadn't you?" I said. "You arranged for Linda to go out, so I
wouldn't feel too awkward about it. You're a wonderful sister,
Marianne, and I love you." She was taken aback; "I think that's
the first time you have actually said that to me," she said. "I
love you too, Reg. I care for you, and think exploring femininity
with you is a wonderful adventure. Something made me think it
might appeal to you, and I would be quite happy to help you carry
on as far as you want to go. It's odd, but in a way it's
flattering to be female, and realise that a male appreciates
femininity and wants to try some of its nice experiences."
I didn't know how to respond to that; I was enjoying the feelings
produced by wearing the corselette and stockings, and the
suspenders seemed to have a particular effect on me, but I didn't
feel at ease talking about it. "I like it," I said simply, and
smiled at her. "Well, we've only just started; do you want to
carry on now? I think you'll find it pleasant and simply
enjoyable now, and there won't be quite the same intense effect."
"Yes, I would. I think I would really like to wear a dress; I
always think how nice they look on you and Linda." "We'll find a
nice one for you, but we're going to have to get you ready first.
Could you wipe yourself off, then we'll try and get your panties
back where they belong." I used the old blue panties to clean
myself up as much as I could, and then I dropped them on the
floor. "Are you ready to carry on now?" asked Marianne. "You can
see now what I meant about wearing panties; it would have been
better to wear them over your suspenders, but it doesn't look so
nice." I got up off the bed; my flaccid penis now looked minute
in comparison to its recent state; after the intense experience
of the previous half hour, I had no concern at all about exposing
myself to my sister, and she took things as they were without any
obvious concern. "Those suspenders are done so nicely and
carefully, it would be a shame to redo them," she said, and she
pulled the panties up as far as she could, then pushed the
waistband up under my girdle. "I think that's right; does it feel
comfortable?" "Yes, thank you." It certainly did, and I felt a
strange sense of pleasure that the essential feature of my
maleness, which had taken control not long before, was now
confined behind a delicate layer of lacy pink nylon. I stood up,
and tried a few steps backwards and forwards; it was very
pleasant indeed to savour the wonderful feeling of the corselette
and stockings as they adapted themselves to my motion, and I was
able to do that without feeling the intense pressure that had
previously been induced by my male sexuality.
Marianne went to the door, and called Linda. She came back into
the room quickly and looked at me and smiled. It was a knowing
smile, but she too was being utterly kind and caring. "You're
ready to carry on being a girl?" she asked. "Yes," I said; "I
really want to. I'm afraid I was a bit overcome just now, but I
think I'm ready to continue; I really do want to try wearing a
nice dress. I have two wonderful sisters, and they always look so
good in their pretty dresses; I want to join them." Linda was
obviously happy at my attitude and she threw her arms round me
and hugged me tightly. "That's wonderful!" she said. "It will be
great for us to be three sisters. Why don't we all dress up
nicely for dinner? What should we wear?" Marianne thought for a
moment; "It would be rather fun to all wear something in the same
style," she said. "It would emphasise our close relationship as
three sisters." "I know!" said Linda. "We should all wear party
dresses with bouffant skirts. They will need crinoline
petticoats, but they are so nice and feminine; you'll love
wearing them, Reg."
Linda's enthusiasm was very infectious, and her suggestion
appealed to me. Marianne seemed to like the idea too, and she
started looking through her many closets. I hadn't really thought
about it before, but she really did have an extensive wardrobe;
finding two bouffant party dresses, and crinoline petticoats to
go with them didn't seem to daunt her at all. She soon took a
dress out of the closet, and held it up in front of her; it was a
lovely blue, with a silky sheen to the material. It wasn't too
ornate, but it did have puffy sleeves, and the skirt seemed
voluminous. "What about this one, Reg?" "I like it," I said, "but
you are really the best judge of what would be most suitable."
"Anything is suitable, if you feel nice wearing it," she said.
"Let's try it for size." She put her arms into the skirt, and
eased it over my head and shoulders; I found the sleeves with my
arms, and soon the silky material had fallen down over me,
enveloping me in its folds. I enjoyed the feeling, and a quick
glance in the mirror told me that it actually fit surprisingly
well. I felt Marianne pulling the zipper up the back, and it fit
snug, but not too tight, over my ersatz bosom. Linda looked at me
approvingly; "You look wonderful, Reg. It really does suit you.
But the skirt shouldn't hang down like that; it needs a nice
crinoline underneath it." Marianne had already found one, and she
came over to me with her arms filled with frilly folds of
material. She unfurled it, to reveal a tapered structure, with
many layers of frilly nylon stiffened by netting. "Lift up your
skirt," she said, "and I'll help you step into it." With Linda's
assistance I got my skirt up above my waist, revealing the
delicate secrets underneath, and Marianne held the waist of the
petticoat open for me to step into. I did so, and she pulled it
up to fit round my waist, then Linda and she let the skirt of the
dress fall over it, and they patted it into place.
I looked in the mirror again, and saw my skirt flared out from my
waist; I tried walking a few steps, and felt the rustle of the
layers of material under my skirt; it swirled slightly as I
moved, giving me a sensation that felt delicious. "That feels
wonderful," I said. "I have always thought dresses like this
looked attractive, but I had no idea they were so nice to wear."
"You'll need a little practice to manage it properly," said
Marianne, "but you'll get used to it." "You'll have to learn how
to sit down in a ladylike manner," added Linda. "If you aren't
quite careful it can pop up when you don't expect it, and be
quite indiscreet." She grinned; "Then people will be able to see
the tops of your stockings, and even your suspenders!"
"Now what about shoes?" Marianne mused. "You really should wear
heels with a dress like that, but I certainly don't have any that
will fit you. Why don't you try these stretchy ballet slippers?"
They were blue, matching the dress, and I was able to get them
on. They were a little tight, but not too uncomfortable. Marianne
looked me up and down with evident satisfaction. "The clothes are
certainly quite good," she said; "we have to think next about
what else you need, but Linda and I should change now. Why don't
you go and practice sitting demurely in the lounge, while we get
ready?"
I made my way to the lounge, and found the way my petticoat
swirled around my legs as I walked was a new and interesting
experience. I liked the feeling. I sat down at one end of the
large couch, and discovered I was sitting on a bundle of fluffy
layers; it wasn't too comfortable, and I'm certain it wasn't
elegant. I tried again, sweeping my skirts out from behind me
before I lowered myself, and things felt much more comfortable;
to be sure, I tried a third time, and the results were to my
satisfaction. It was comfortable, and I liked the feel of the
layers of petticoat over my thighs; I spread the skirt out on
each side of me, and sat back. I thought I was elegant enough,
now, and I enjoyed the delicious feeling of femininity that
seemed to me to be the appropriate way to describe the new
sensations that thrilled me. I picked up a fashion magazine lying
on the coffee table, and started to look through it. I had idly
glanced at the magazines that Marianne and Linda got before, but
hadn't found them of any particular interest; now, I had a whole
new perspective, and I found the pictures fascinating; I looked
eagerly through the whole thing to see if there were any dresses
that appealed to me. A lot of the more exotic outfits didn't
inspire me too much, but there were several beautiful pictures of
what might be called traditional femininity that had a very
strong effect on me, and I found myself wishing I could try on
the clothes for myself. I became very envious of the elegant
models displaying the various items.
I was completely engrossed in my reading when I realised that
Marianne and Linda had joined me, and they were looking at me
with amused but friendly smiles. They both looked beautiful; they
wore dresses quite similar to mine, with bouffant skirts --
Marianne was in green, and Linda in a lovely shade of pink. They
had both fixed their long hair very carefully, and were elegantly
made up. I looked at them admiringly, and realised that I was
still the odd one out. "You both look wonderful," I said. "I am
really enjoying the experience of wearing things just like you
are, but I'm afraid I must look a little bit odd." "It doesn't
matter," said Marianne kindly; "you can still enjoy the nice
dress, and all the things that go with it. But if you would like
to try making yourself look really feminine, it would be fun to
see what we could do." "Oh, yes," said Linda. "We must do
everything properly and complete the transformation. I want Reg
to be a real sister for us." "Would you like to try, Reg?" asked
Marianne. "Yes," I said. "Let me look after this part," said
Linda eagerly; "I do have a nice blonde wig, and I would really
like to try my skills at makeup." "That's a good idea," said
Marianne. "Why don't you see what you can do, while I start
organising dinner."
Linda grabbed me impulsively by the hand and took me into her
room. She had a vanity there with large mirrors surrounded by
lights, and sitting on one end of it was a wigstand with a wig of
beautiful long blonde hair. She had black hair, which was very
attractive, but she loved experimenting, and I remembered my
surprise when she had suddenly appeared one day as a dazzling
blonde. She sat me down in front of the vanity, and immediately
took the wig; she carefully got it oriented properly, and quickly
placed it on my head. She patted it down, and swept the long
locks to frame my face, and then looked in the mirror; I did,
too, and what I saw was devastating -- an unmistakably feminine
face looked back at me. The apparition was a ravishing blonde,
and her beautiful blue party dress set off her hair to great
effect. Linda gasped, and then held me in a long hug; she kissed
me impulsively, and said: "You look wonderful, Reg. I really do
have a young sister, and she's beautiful! I love her!" I was
quite overcome by my appearance, and couldn't resist saying "I
love you, too, big sister." It was a wonderful moment.
"Now we must fix your face to match the rest," she said happily,
and started rummaging through the various bottles and jars that
were spread all over the top of the vanity. I had no idea what to
expect, and she set to work eagerly, to put the ultimate touches
to my transformation. It was a long and quite complex process,
and I watched in fascination as Linda worked away happily; she
had me sitting back from the vanity table, so that she could get
at my face easily, but I was facing the mirrors and had a
grandstand view. She worked a liquid preparation over the whole
of my face; I didn't really know what she was doing precisely,
but I resolved to find out, and realised that the fashion
magazines would now be very interesting reading. The shadow from
my beard disappeared completely, and my complexion began to take
on a clearer smoother appearance; to my eyes it was much more
convincingly feminine. Then things got more exotic, as various
different cosmetics were applied around my eyes; there was a fine
dark line outlining my eyes, and a hint of metallic blue appeared
on my eyelids. Linda produced a rather frightening looking
implement, and did something to my eyelashes; she followed that
by using a minute brush to apply some sticky black material. I
had an idea that it might be mascara, but the result was to see
my eyelashes become thick and luscious, and turn upwards in what
to me was a most provocative way. The final touch was to colour
my lips; it wasn't a simple application of lipstick that was
familiar to me from seeing women do quick fixes to their faces
after eating. Linda outlined and filled in my lips with a pencil,
and then painted on the red colour with a fine brush. She finally
used another larger, very soft brush to apply powder all over my
face. "I think that's everything," she said with evident
satisfaction. "Now you really do look like my sister!" To me, it
was everything and more, and the effect of her work was
staggering. "I had no idea I could be made to look like that," I
said. "It's a strange feeling to look at the mirror and realise
that I really am looking at myself. I think I like it."
Linda hugged me again. "I can't kiss you now," she said, "because
it would mess up your face; I wish I could, though -- I feel so
close to you. You're a wonderful sport, and it really is fun to
have another sister. Let's go and introduce her to Marianne." I
got up, and felt the hair sweeping down the sides of my face, in
addition to all the delightful sensations from my dress and the
nice things underneath it. Linda took me by the hand, and we went
out to the kitchen where Marianne was busy at work with an apron
over her party dress. "Here's our new sister!" said Linda. "What
do you think?" Marianne looked at me in amazement; "You're
beautiful, Reg," she said. She looked me up and down, and flung
her arms round me in a real sisterly hug. I was enjoying
everything, and the response of my two wonderful sisters gave me
a warm feeling; I felt welcome, and realised that it was very
nice indeed to really feel like one of the group. Marianne was
still taken aback; "It's hard to believe it's you, Reg," she
said.
Linda started to look a little bothered. "She's our new sister,"
she said; "I think she looks wonderful, too, but we really have
to have a nice name for her; we can't call her Reg." I was a bit
taken aback by this remark, but I realised that she was right.
Marianne obviously felt the same way; "Of course," she said. "She
must have a name that really suits her." She looked at me with
her wonderful kind smile; "What would you like to be called?" Her
question put me on the spot; my transformation had happened so
quickly that I had not really assimilated all its consequences.
It was now obvious to me that I could no longer be Reg, but I
thought that finding a name that would feel right would be
difficult. "I don't know," I said; "I would really like to use a
nice girl's name now, but there isn't one that immediately comes
to my mind." "Dinner won't be long," said Marianne; "I'll finish
getting it ready. But you must decide what you would like us to
call you; think of a really nice name that would suit the way you
look now." I went back to the lounge, and carefully sat myself
down; I was getting more skilled with practice, and spread my
skirts out beside me. I started to think of feminine names that
might strike a chord in me, and feel appropriate. It was a
difficult task, but I soon realised that my name would have to
have an obvious "feminine" ending. I decided that it would be
nice to keep the same initial, and that limited my choice; I went
through all the names I could think of that began with an 'R' and
it came to me: I would like my sisters to call me Rosanne. I
whispered it to myself once or twice, and felt a definite
response to it.
Marianne called out that dinner was ready, and I realised that I
had done nothing to help; Linda had been busy setting the table,
while I was struggling with feminine nomenclature. I joined my
sisters in the dining room; before we sat down, in a spontaneous
gesture, they joined hands and reached out to me. I joined them,
and we closed in to form a triangular embrace; "I looked up at
them, sheepishly, and said "I'd like to be called Rosanne." They
both smiled happily, and we clung even closer together, squeezing
our petticoats between us into a tight mass of frilly nylon. "I'm
so glad you are here with us, Rosanne," said Marianne. Linda gave
me an extra hug and said "I love you, Rosanne, little sister." At
that moment I knew that I really was Rosanne, and I had a
wonderful sense of belonging.
Dinner was a strange experience; at one level it was very
familiar, and the three of us sat down and enjoyed one another's
company in the easygoing way that was our normal routine. I was
getting used to my clothing now, and for long periods of time I
wasn't even aware of how different it was from my usual drab
attire; but then I would drop my hand down, and feel it encounter
my dress -- every time that happened I become very much aware of
my layers of petticoat once again, and the lovely tactile
sensation of my stockings, tightly stretched over my legs. Once
in a while, I would move my position in my chair, and feel the
suspenders at the back of my thighs dig into me; it might have
been uncomfortable, but I found it an exciting reminder of all
the delectable things I was wearing, and the wonderful afternoon
I had spent. Our conversation was normal, almost as if we had
determined that in spite of my transformation, everything else
would proceed normally; but whenever my sisters turned the
conversation to me, they would unhesitatingly call me Rosanne. At
first I had to think for a moment, realising with a start that I
was being addressed, but I got used to it, and I certainly liked
it. The meal was enjoyable, as always, and as we finished our
dessert, we began to think what we might do for the rest of the
evening. Linda was the first to say out loud what we were all
thinking. "What shall we do after dinner? We must do something
special as three sisters."
I had a strong desire to join my two sisters in doing something
together, that would involve me as one of three sisters, and
underline my transformed state, but it wasn't obvious what
collective 'feminine' pursuits we might indulge in. "Just a
minute," said Marianne, "I think we may be in luck. Isn't that
special on television tonight? The long documentary on the
history of female fashion through the twentieth century." "Oh,
yes!" said Linda. "I really want to see that; would you like to
watch it, Rosanne?" "Yes." I could think of nothing I wanted to
do more. The topic would be fascinating to me now, and I relished
the thought of joining my sisters, being one of them, and
watching a program we would all enjoy, which would no doubt
stimulate interesting comments. I couldn't help thinking to
myself, that until very recently, it would have been the last
possible thing to interest me. My frilly petticoats, my smooth
stockings, and my tight suspenders, with my pretty dress on top
not only were giving me pleasant feelings, but they gave me a
desire to hear about other people who wore such things, what
their history was, and feel a sense of community with them.
"This is a special evening," Marianne said, "and we must do
something to mark the occasion." She got out three liqueur
glasses, and took a bottle of drambuie from the cupboard. She
poured a healthy glass for each of us, and we all sat back,
sipping our drinks, to wait for the television special to start.
It was a fascinating program, and in my newfound state I was
completely captivated by it. It dealt with women's clothing for
the last hundred years -- almost every item of women's clothing.
There were wonderful pictures of dresses, and the way styles had
changed over the years, but it also went into great detail on the
related items of lingerie and underwear. There was a long section
on corsets, and their gradual evolution into present day girdles
and brassieres, with many illustrations that excited my interest.
Marianne and Linda were enthused too, and they made comments that
I found very interesting. They were both particularly kind in
drawing me into their discussion, asking me what I thought about
things, and explaining some of the subtleties that I might have
missed. I was sorry when it was over; the three of us sat back
happily, and the conversation about the wonderful world of
women's clothing continued for a long time. I had a deeply
satisfying sense of belonging, and participating in a group that
welcomed me -- a group that my gender had naturally excluded me
from previously.
Finally we realised it was time to start thinking about bed. I
had enjoyed my afternoon and evening more than I could possibly
have imagined, and I felt a real obligation to my two wonderful
sisters. "I have to thank you both," I said. "It's been
absolutely wonderful, and your help and acceptance of me as a
sister has been a fantastic experience. I'm quite sorry to have
it come to an end." "It doesn't have to, Rosanne," said Linda.
"I've grown very fond of you, and I'd like you to stay." Marianne
was more pragmatic, but she continued in her kind accepting way.
"You can do whatever you want, Rosanne. You'll have to go back to
being Reg a lot of the time, but there's no hurry. Let me find
you a nice nightdress, and you can go to bed as Rosanne." "I'd
love that," I said. "It would be a perfect end to the day.
Thanks, Marianne." "You will have to clean off that makeup," said
Linda. "I'll help you with it." She took me back to her room, and
showed me how to use makeup remover; soon all traces of my
feminine complexion were gone, but I still felt the wonderful
clothes. Linda gave me the wig stand, so that I could put the wig
away properly when I took it off; she realised that I wanted to
delay that as long as possible. I thanked her again for all her
help, and then she excused herself, saying she had to get up
early in the morning.
I was ready to go to bed myself, but I had enjoyed such a
wonderful day, with intense emotional experiences, that I didn't
know quite how to bring it to an end. In her kind empathetic way,
Marianne sensed what was going through my mind. "Rosanne?" she
said, and seemed a little hesitant. "Yes." "You've really enjoyed
being a girl today, haven't you?" "Yes, I have. It was a strange
new experience, and quite thrilling, but I have got used to it,
in a way. This evening it seemed quite natural, and there was a
lovely warm feeling being a sister to you and Linda. I just don't
want that to end." "I thought so. It's been wonderful for me to
have another sister, and though we have always got on well
together, it seemed to bring us even closer. It really was a nice
evening we had together. We'll have to talk about where we go
from here, but it really seems a pity to change things back
suddenly." "I would like to go to bed as Rosanne," I said;
"tomorrow's another day, and I may have to face reality then."
Marianne put her arms round me; "I think you should," she said.
"And I would love to get to know my little sister better. Would
you like to come to bed with me? It's a girl's room; I'd like
your company, and we could be sisters together for a while
longer." I was taken aback, but it was obvious that she was
innocently seeking my company as a sister. I was quite overcome
by her feeling for me, and realised that I would like nothing
better than to sink into a warm feminine space, and snuggle up to
my wonderful big sister as I went to sleep. "Yes, I would," I
whispered.
She took my hand, and led me into her bedroom. It was a nice
large room, with a big double bed, and a wonderful feminine feel
to it. She closed the door, and smiled at me; "We can get ready
for bed together," she said, "and I can help you with your
clothes." She unzippered my dress at the back, and helped me ease
it up over my bosom and shoulders. I stood there surrounded by my
bouffant petticoat, with the white top of my corselette and its
prominent bra cups exposed. She took the dress, and carefully
arranged it on a hanger in the closet. "Now you can help me," she
smiled. I tugged the zipper on the back of her dress down, and
then clumsily helped to lift up the skirt for her; she worked it
over her head with ease, and took it over to the closet too. She
was wearing layers of net petticoat, but her midriff was bare,
and she wore an elegant white bra with lovely lacy cups. "The
petticoats slip down quite easily," she said, demonstrating by
pulling hers down over her thighs; she stepped out of it
elegantly, leaving a frothy pile of nylon on the floor, and she
revealed a matching white girdle with six suspenders stretched
across her thighs to the tops of her smooth dark stockings. I
noticed with surprise that she wore her panties underneath the
girdle, and knowing her kind thoughtfulness, I wondered if she
had done it just for my benefit. I slid my petticoat down, and
stepped out of it, not quite so elegantly, and Marianne picked up
the two garments and took them over to their place in the large
closet.
We stood there together, both wearing dark stockings, with
suspenders stretched across our thighs, and I felt a quiet
thrill; there was an intimacy in casually undressing with my
sister that underlined our close relationship. It was completely
innocent, and at least for me had no sexual overtones whatsoever;
I felt like a girl, casually getting ready for bed with her big
sister, and it gave me a delicious warm feeling. "You can undo
your suspenders, I'm sure," said Marianne, "but be careful with
the stockings; it's easy to snag them." She smiled; "One thing we
didn't do was your nails." She set to work undoing her own
suspenders, and I followed suit, though I didn't have the same
facility. She carefully pulled her stockings down, then tugged
the toes away from her foot, and fluttered them out. I started to
try and do the same, but she came over to help me finish the
task. "Now slip your shoulder straps off," she said to me, "and
pull your arms free." That done, she rolled the bra cups down,
and the breast forms popped out. She pulled the corselette down,
from the top; it was inside out when I stepped out of it, and she
flipped it over and folded it neatly to put it away in a drawer.
I was left wearing the lacy panties, and Marianne unzippered her
girdle and unhooked it; she stepped out of it and carefully put
it away too.
Almost all my lovely feminine accoutrements had been removed,
now, but there was still a wonderful atmosphere of feminine
sisterly togetherness, accentuated by the sight of my beautiful
big sister standing by me wearing her bra and panties. "I must
find a really nice nightie for you," she said, and started
looking through one of the drawers by her bedside. She found what
she was looking for and came over to me with a long nylon gown,
in pastel blue, with delicate lace trim around the neck and hem,
and short wide sleeves. She held it up for me to slip my arms
into, and it passed easily over my head and fell down, almost to
the floor, engulfing me in its sensuous caress. It felt
delicious, and I walked a few steps feeling the folds swirl
around me. My reaction was obvious, and Marianne smiled at me
with satisfaction; "It's lovely, isn't it?" She took an almost
identical nightdress from under her pillow, and then paused for a
moment. It was apparent to me that she was thinking something
through, and she took me by the hand. "I'm enjoying our time
together in a feminine space," she said. "It's wonderful to be
two girls together, and I am really enjoying getting to know
another part of you. You're my sister, Rosanne, and I think what
we are doing is completely innocent, even though it is very
intimate. I have to take my bra off now, and I'm just going to
carry on naturally, and really treat you as my sister." She
reached behind her back, and unhooked the fastening, then she
leaned forward, slipping the shoulder straps off, and let the bra
drop into her hands. She stood before me, and her full breasts
stood out firmly in front of her.
I couldn't resist the sight, and looked at her intently. I felt
strange feelings stirring in me; they weren't sexual, but there
was a definite excitement. "You're beautiful, Marianne!" The
effect on me was profound, and before I realised what I was
saying, I blurted out "They look so nice, I'm so envious." Almost
immediately I felt very embarrassed, but Marianne slipped her
nightdress on, and came over to me. She cradled me in her arms,
and squeezed me tight. "Don't worry, little sister. If that's
really what you want, then we can think about ways of helping
you. Let's go to bed now, and we'll see how you feel about things
in the morning." She turned back the sheets on both sides of the
big bed, and then looked at me with a smile. "I'm afraid you'll
have to take the wig off now, but we'll turn the lights off right
away, so it won't be too bad." She helped me take the wig off,
and put it carefully on the stand; I looked at it admiringly,
thinking that I was looking at a wonderful memory of myself. I
got into bed, and Marianne settled into the other side, turning
the light out.
I lay there, savouring the sensuous feeling of the nightdress,
and thinking over the wonderful day I had enjoyed as a girl. I
had become very confused about things, but I had a firm
conviction that part of me at least wanted very much to be a
girl, and stay a girl always. Marianne moved close to me; she
brushed against me, and then she took me in her arms. "I love
you, Rosanne. It's been a wonderful day, and I'm so happy you
were able to make your appearance and be a sister to Linda and
me." Her words gave me a warm feeling inside, and I felt overcome
by a desire to be feminine, and to be Marianne's sister. I
snuggled close to her; "You have been so wonderful to me, and
everything has felt so good today. I like being a girl, and I
really love being a sister to you and Linda." "I'm so glad," said
Marianne. "I just thought it might be fun to try. I do know a
couple of men that like to bring out their feminine side, and
something made me think that you might like to as well. I just
wanted you to know that we would be understanding, and enjoy
helping you, if you felt the same way. I really had no idea that
it would work out so well. You're a lovely girl, and you can be
Rosanne any time you feel you would like to."
2. Marianne Tells Her Version.
After we had got over the tragic loss of our parents, the three
of us settled down into an agreeable life together. We were a
family, unusual in its composition, but a family nonetheless, and
we lived together happily. We got on very well with one another,
and to some extent we followed our separate interests, though we
also enjoyed one another's company. We were very fortunate in
having been brought up to have quite liberal views, and we
accepted our differences happily.
I had been given custody of my younger sister and brother, but I
did not play the role of a parent in our family life. It simply
wasn't necessary as each of us understood the need to help in the
various household chores, and we were all mature enough to live
with one another without any serious disagreements. My sister
Linda was two years younger than me; she still had a teenager's
enjoyment of life and sense of fun, but she was very mature in
her understanding and acceptance of people. As she grew up, it
became a pleasure for us to consult one another on matters of
style and grooming, and we enjoyed our mutual feminine
companionship. My brother Reg was two years younger than Linda,
and as the only male in the family was the odd one out to some
extent. That didn't seem to present a problem to any of us; we
were all easygoing, and accepted the consequences of our gender
differences as a matter of fact.
Like most people growing up, I had been quite preoccupied with
questions of gender and sexuality. As a teenager I was quite
interested in boys, and I also had made close friendships with
other girls; we shared our intimate secrets with one another, and
enjoyed a sense of developing femininity. Something inside me
made me fascinated by the wide varieties of behaviour associated
with gender, and I read avidly on the subject. This preoccupation
didn't cause me any doubts or concerns about my place in the
scheme of things, and in fact it confirmed my happy feeling of
satisfaction in being female. I enjoyed life as a female, and I
took great pleasure in many of the pursuits and interests
traditionally assigned by our culture to the female. I developed
a feminist view of things, nonetheless, but it gave me the
security to be tolerant of others, and happy in the freedom I had
to make my own choices. I was happy to feel myself 'feminine' and
adopt many feminine values, firm in the belief that they were not
inferior, but rather choices that gave me pleasure.
Like most girls of my age, I was quite interested in expressing
my sexuality, but after some experience I began to develop a
distaste for the traditional dating and mating games. I had a
particularly close friend, Shiela, and we found our attitudes
were very much in agreement; we were both interested in exploring
the topics that interested us, and we often went out together. We
visited places that were frequented by members of various
subcultures, and met people with quite different lifestyles; I
was particularly interested in those who might be described as
belonging to 'sexual minorities', and Shiela and I got into deep
discussion with the people we met. One of the places we found
very interesting was a lesbian bar; it was pleasant, very
unthreatening, and the women we met there were very friendly, and
gave us an interesting new perspective on the whole question of
gender and sexuality. I began to wonder about my own orientation;
it wasn't a concern that bothered me, but I was curious. The
lesbian lifestyle struck me as being quite pleasing in its
symmetry; I had the strange feeling that I would rather like to
be lesbian myself. I was not by any means convinced that I was,
but I did enjoy the company of lesbians. My mind remained open on
the question of my own orientation, but I did think that there
was a distinct possibility that it might be lesbian.
There were also some males there. Shiela and I encountered two of
them one evening, and to start off with we assumed they were
women. There was something about them that excited my interest,
and we got into a friendly conversation; it soon turned out that
they were men, but they were dressed and represented themselves
very convincingly as women. The conversation became more and more
fascinating, and went on for the whole evening. I learned that
there were people who had a strong desire to express themselves
in a gender role opposite to that of their physical sex; there
was a wide variation in the extent of this desire, and some of
them were quite happy simply to go out once in a while and spend
an evening in their gender of choice. Others, they told me, had
an innate sense that their physical sex was wrong, and they felt
a strong desire to live as members of the opposite gender; it was
a fulltime preoccupation and they often sought surgery to make
their bodies conform to their gender identification.
Something about these people -- they called themselves
transgendered -- struck a chord in me. I understood their desire
to be feminine, and admired their efforts to implement their
desires. In a way they shared my delight in femininity, and I
found it almost flattering that they wished to adopt values that
I shared; I left that evening with a desire to learn more about
people like them. I did some research in the library, and then
found my way to personal accounts that were less clinical, and
gave me a much better insight into their thoughts and feelings.
When I visited the bar on subsequent occasions, I sought them
out, and asked them more and more questions; I discovered that in
a strange way they shared my ideas, and I found myself more and
more in tune with them. Their desire to share what were to me the
joys of femininity struck me as natural, and eminently
understandable. Far from seeing them as perverse and unnatural, I
found myself wondering why their desires were not shared by a
much larger proportion of the male population.
As I learned more, and as my new transgendered friends talked to
me quite candidly, I learned that things were more complicated
than just making a choice of one's desired gender; it turned out
that the desire to present themselves as feminine, and the
subsequent dressing and adornment was often associated with
intense sexual excitement; that was male, and expressed itself in
a characteristic male way. For some transvestites this was the
main motivation for their activities, but there were others for
whom the effect was a hindrance in their desire to cross the
boundary of gender. Sometimes they continued, after their sexual
urge had been satisfied, and they were then able to attain a
feminine state which was exciting in a different way; a state in
which they experienced a quiet satisfaction in their innate sense
of femininity. Their description of this was very similar to my
own feelings of happiness and satisfaction in my femininity, and
I began to understand the empathy I had for them.
Encountering these new friends, and learning about them, was just
one of the many interesting perspectives on life and the human
condition that Shiela and I gained. We discovered that there were
innumerable places in the city to visit, and many fascinating
subcultures, and we enjoyed our exploration.
I was getting myself ready one afternoon, before another evening
out. Shiela and I planned to visit a new ethnic restaurant, and
it seemed a good occasion to dress ourselves up. I had just
bought a new girdle, and I thought it would help me look my best
in one of my favourite dresses; I put it on and enjoyed the nice
snug feeling it gave me. I was taking my time, and enjoying
myself looking at the effect in the mirror; I had spent some time
deciding what shade of stockings would be best, and finally
picked out some lovely sheer dark ones to try. I had just got
them on, and was fixing the last suspender, when I happened to
look up and saw my brother Reg in the hallway. We were very
casual at times, and I often left my bedroom door open. Reg
looked at me with some interest, and I told him I was trying out
a new girdle; he said it looked very nice, and went on his way to
the lounge. He didn't seem too bothered by the incident, but I
realised immediately that I should have been more circumspect. I
thought for a while, and then put on a peignoir, and went to
apologise to him.
I told him I shouldn't really have left my door open like that
while I was dressing, but he didn't seem concerned or upset, and
told me that I had looked very nice. We had very good rapport
with one another, and were able to talk quite openly, so I asked
him, out of curiosity, what his reaction was. I wondered if he
might have found the sight exciting. His answer was quite
surprising; he told me that the sight had started a train of
thought about clothing, and he remarked on the significant
difference between male and female garments; to my surprise he
told me that he found himself quite curious about what it might
be like to wear things like those he had seen on me. I thought
about his comment, and was struck by its pertinence; we weren't
just wearing things which differed in style and shape -- when I
compared his normal attire of shirts and jeans with my girdle and
stockings it was evident that there were significant differences
in texture and the feelings induced, and I realised that there
was a sexual and erotic symbolism to feminine lingerie. We might
have had a fascinating discussion, but I was getting late for my
date with Shiela, and had a lot more preparation to do.
Back in my room, working on my makeup, I was still thinking over
what Reg had said. It also occurred to me that the difference he
had remarked on only operated in one direction. It would have
been perfectly acceptable, and not particularly remarkable in
modern society, for me to wear clothes almost identical to those
he was wearing; on the other hand, for him to wear a girdle and
stockings, as I did, would be unthinkable. I immediately thought
of my transvestite friends, and corrected myself: there were men
to whom the idea of wearing feminine lingerie was very much
'thinkable'; they not only thought about it, they actually did
it, and they got great satisfaction from the effect it had on
them. I wondered if Reg might have similar feelings; if by some
chance he did, I didn't want him to feel repressed and inhibited
by the presence of Linda and myself. I decided to raise the
question quite casually, and see what his reaction would be. I
thought it would only be fair for him to have the same freedom in
his choice of clothing that we had, and it struck me that it
might be fun to assist him if he was interested.
A few days later, Shiela and I went to the lesbian bar again; we
met our transvestite friends, and had an interesting evening in
conversation with them. I went home resolved to find out just how
far Reg's curiosity went, and the next evening at dinner I told
Linda and Reg about the people we had met. I thought that Reg was
more than usually interested, and I siezed the moment. I asked
him if he was interested in trying women's clothing; I told him
that if he was, he should feel free to do so, and that I would be
happy to help him. Linda seemed taken with the idea, and she
encouraged him to try wearing a pretty dress -- and as she put
it, "all the proper things underneath." She told him that it
would be great fun to have a new sister. I was quite taken by
Reg's response, and gratified that he felt free to speak out
about his feelings; it was a wonderful tribute to the rapport the
three of us had, nurtured as it was by tolerant and accepting
attitudes. He responded directly to Linda, and said he would like
the idea of trying on feminine clothing; he even said he liked
the idea of being one of three sisters, instead of the odd one
out.
The weather was rainy and miserable a couple of weekends later;
it seemed like an ideal time for Reg to try some feminine
clothing and see how he took to it. He was ready and quite eager
to try, so I sent him off to have a bath and get himself ready. I
asked Linda to come and help me get my room ready; there wasn't
really too much tidying up to do, but I wanted to talk to her.
"Shiela and I have been chatting to those two transvestites," I
said, "and I have also done some reading. The whole thing is
really quite strange; the men like to 'present' themselves as
women, as they put it, and they enjoy all the nice feminine
things we do, but sometimes it has quite a powerful effect on
them, and they get very excited sexually -- as males. I think
that's quite likely to happen to poor Reg; he'll be enjoying
himself, but he will find that he's worked up, and will feel very
awkward about it in the presence of his two sisters." Linda was
listening to what I said with great interest; "It's too bad we
all have such hangups about things like that," she said. "I think
sex is natural, and I don't really see why we should worry so
much about it." "The problem is that we have all been taught that
it's something private, just for people in love with one
another," I said. "There's a real problem in how we deal with it.
I honestly think the best thing to do would be for me to help him
relieve himself; I hope that won't bother him too much." "I don't
see why you shouldn't," said Linda; "I hope that it won't stop
him enjoying trying out the clothes." "I don't think it will," I
said; "once his male reaction is taken care of he'll probably
want to continue, and he will be able to relax, and really get
into a feminine space. But to make it easier for him, if he does
get excited, I'll wave you away, like this; then you can leave us
for ten minutes or so. I'll try and play the helpful elder
sister, and he may be able to deal with it." "OK," said Linda,
"but I do want to be there when our new sister appears!"
We got into a discussion then about what might be the best things
for Reg to try, and starting with the basics, the first question
was what foundation would work best. At that point Reg came in,
and told us quite eagerly that he was ready to be the third
sister. We started on his transformation, and we did have to
pause to deal with an intense state of sexual excitement, but
after his release we continued and he was finally dressed in a
lovely party dress with a bouffant skirt, over a crinoline
petticoat. Linda got her blonde wig for him, and she took him off
to demonstrate her skill with makeup. He looked just beautiful
when everything was done, and both Linda and I really felt that
we had another sister. He seemed to like the role, and fell into
it quite naturally; we told him we couldn't call our young sister
Reg, and suggested he should decide on a suitable name. He chose
Rosanne and it seemed very appropriate. Linda and I changed into
party dresses too, and we made dinner into a real fun occasion.
We all thought that we should spend the evening doing something
suitable for three sisters, and there was a fascinating program
on television on the history of female clothing in this century.
Linda and I both wanted to see it, and Rosanne joined us, and was
obviously extremely interested; when it was over, we continued
chatting about the program, and female clothing, and Rosanne
joined in. It was a wonderful evening, and feeling that we were
now three sisters seemed to bring us even closer than we normally
were.
Eventually bedtime arrived, and it became fairly clear that
Rosanne was in no hurry to revert to being our brother, so I
suggested that I would find a nightie for her, and she could go
to bed as Rosanne. She responded with such enthusiasm to the
idea, that I was overcome by my feelings for her; there did seem
to be something magic about her happy acceptance of her role as
our sister and it touched me very deeply. I felt an urge to make
some special gesture to express my acceptance of her; it suddenly
came to me that it would be a wonderful idea for us to go to bed
together as sisters, so we could snuggle together, and enjoy our
femininity together. I hesitated before suggesting it, because it
did occur to my more rational mind that what I was suggesting
might easily be misinterpreted. I couldn't resist asking her,
though, and she agreed; she seemed to be quite touched by the
idea, and it was quite clear that she took it in all innocence.
Linda had an early morning, and had already gone to bed, but she
had helped Rosanne to remove her makeup, and gave her the
wigstand, knowing that the wig would be worn until the last
possible minute. Rosanne came into my bedroom with me, and we
helped one another getting our dresses off, in true sisterly
fashion. When we had also taken our girdles and stockings off,
Linda was just wearing her panties, and I helped her into the
nightie. I still had my panties and bra on; I thought I would
keep the panties just for Rosanne's ease of mind, but suddenly
realised the implications of taking off my bra. After a moment's
thought, I decided to treat her as my sister, and told her what I
was going to do. When I stood before her, just wearing my
panties, she looked at me in wistful admiration. She told me I
was beautiful, and added somewhat sheepishly that she felt
envious. That made me wonder how far her feminine identification
would proceed, and I told her that we could talk about the
possibilities later. She kept her wig on until just the moment
before I put the light out, and then we lay in bed together. I
felt very tender and affectionate towards her; she really was
being a sister to me, and she needed acceptance and nurturing in
that role. I snuggled close to her, and cradled her in my arms;
we chatted quietly about being girls, and her feelings, as we
gradually drifted off to sleep.
When I woke in the morning, I heard Linda up and about, and then
I heard the door as she left. Rosanne was still sleeping quietly
by my side, and I wondered how she would react when she awoke in
these unusual circumstances. I resolved to deal with the
situation in a matter-of-fact way, and accept whatever she felt
easiest doing. She woke soon, and looked at me; "Marianne?" she
said, without too much surprise. I kissed her; "Hi, little
sister! You were Rosanne yesterday evening, and Linda and I had a
wonderful time with you; it seemed like a nice idea for us to
stay together as sisters for a while." "It was a wonderful idea,"
she said; "I enjoyed the evening so much, and I didn't want to be
let down too quickly. I think I'll have to go back to being Reg,
for now, but the whole experience has given me some things to
think about." "Linda's gone out already," I said, "so you can go
back to your room wearing the nightie, and take things easily.
I'll get up and get some breakfast organised."
I put on a housecoat over my nightdress, and went into the
kitchen. I wanted some coffee, and I started some toast for Reg.
He appeared fairly soon, back to being my brother; I thought
things could have been much worse -- he was a wonderful brother.
"I guess you can call me Reg, now," he said smiling. "So how's my
brother Reg this morning?" "Doing very well, but Rosanne's still
there, and I am a bit mixed up; I started out just being curious
about things, but I seem to have got into them fairly deep. It
was more than just a fun thing to do; it felt right somehow, and
I think it's a part of me now that I won't want to let go."
"Think things through," I said, "and take your time. And if you
want to talk about it, I'd be happy to chat. If you want to be
Rosanne, any time, that's fine too; I would be more than happy to
chat to her." "Thanks. You're a wonderful big sister." We had our
breakfast together, and then we went our separate ways; the day
proceeded very much as usual.
Linda had a class early in the morning, but she was home not long
after lunchtime. I thought it would be best to tell her what had
happened; it crossed my mind, not without wishful anticipation,
that it might happen again. She helped me by starting the
conversation; "That was a lovely evening we had, yesterday; I
thought it was wonderful to meet Rosanne, and have such a fun
time with her." "It certainly was. I was quite struck by how she
adopted the role, and fit into it, almost naturally. She
certainly didn't want to let it go when it came to bedtime." "I
know," said Linda; "it's too bad I had to get to bed so early; it
would have been a good evening to stay up late and really chat.
Did you and Rosanne carry on after I'd gone to bed?" "Yes, a
little. She was so happy as Rosanne, but I had a feeling she was
just a little insecure, and I felt a strong urge to be supportive
and comforting; I really had to be the kind big sister." "You do
that naturally," said Linda, "and that's one of the reasons we
all get on so well together." "I don't know quite how it
happened," I said, "but I was really overcome by my feelings
towards her. The fact is I asked her if she would like to come to
bed with me, so we could snuggle together like sisters."
Linda didn't seem the least horrified, or even surprised. "That
was nice of you," she said; "I remember the time when I used to
love sharing your big bed, and snuggling up to you." "Yes, it was
a way of expressing our close relationship as sisters. But
Rosanne is also Reg, who is not only male, he's my brother!" "But
it was Rosanne who went to bed with you," said Linda. "I think
that's very nice." "You're a very nice person yourself, Linda," I
said. "I think you do understand. It was completely innocent; I
had a young sister who felt just a little insecure in her role,
and needed a little tender loving care. I was so taken with her,
that I wanted to care for her." "I can't imagine anything nicer,"
Linda said; "it makes me want to have my turn too!" "I'd be happy
to share and share alike," I said, "but at this stage in your
development you are quite secure in your femininity. Rosanne is
still feeling her way; I think she will be here again, and I
think I might have the same impulse." "Follow it," said Linda.
"It makes me think that it might be fun for all three of us to
snuggle together one evening, but maybe that wouldn't work too
well." She was very likely right, but the idea did have a strange
appeal.