How I became a real girl part 1. Stories about forced dressing in girl clothes

Awesome action, I love it. First, mother, a petty woman, who felt sorry for throwing out her daughter's underwear, then, as it were, her sister had already grown up and, seeing such miracles, decided to play along with her mother. I got bras, pantyhose, put it on my brother and went to the park. Then they found a wife for him on the TOPIC (you can see the whole Yandex was shoveled) with whom he bathes in the river in awesomely beautiful swimsuits, and the men take him for a girl..........

“Since childhood, I have always worn girlish panties with bows, tights. This is how my mother dressed me. I bought pantaloons, and what was from my sister. bra, and I asked my mother, but you also need to wear a bra like a sister’s. What was said, if you want, I’ll buy you and you can wear it. blouses, shoes, stockings, tights like my sister's. Then my sister and I had the same wardrobe. And I dressed all this and went home. Sometimes I went outside with my mother. But then she began to help me choose underwear in color, fasten the bra. How to put on panties and where to hide the pussy so that everything looked like a girl's pubis. She put something in the bra so that her breasts were like hers. She wore dresses or a transparent blouse with a short skirt, so that it was visible bra, shoes with heels. Her outerwear suited me. I put on makeup and that's how I became like a girl. And already after 16 years, when I was already dressing like a girl, I walked in all this. My sister came with a friend quickly put on me thongs, stockings with lace elastic stocking belt beautiful busgater red tight Short dress, beads earrings. They did my make-up, my hair, put on high-heeled shoes, and in this form, all three of us went for a walk in the park. At first, I felt uneasy, but then the looseness disappeared. And everything went fine. My sister called me Olya. On the street, no one even noticed that the boy was dressed as a girl. In this form, my sister and I returned home. Mom didn’t understand at first and then she was surprised, but she was never against the fact that I dress like a girl. And as a result, I began to dress like a sister and everything that a sister wears. I walked like this at home and on the street, so I grew further. Mom bought me and my sister the same underwear, panties, bras, stockings, tights, fishnet panties. Dresses, skirts, leggings. And already at home, my mother had two daughters. Even in the summer they bathed in bathing suits. At first I was closed. And then my sister told my mother to buy a separate one only so that the bra was filled with filler. They also came to the beach, undressed and went into the water. In winter he wore woolen tights and sometimes wore warm knickers at his sister's insistence. so everything went on more. Now I always wear either stockings or tights. Sometimes I wear a bodysuit, grace or semi-grace. Panties are only fishnet. summer tango or thong. Having married, of course, my wife saw all this, at first it was somehow not very good. But now we go to the store together where she picks up lingerie for me, stockings, tights, looks and advises what suits me, at home we go to my wife in underwear and I too. Sometimes, having dressed me as a woman, I have already learned how to do makeup myself, it leads me to the street or to a cafe. In the summer we also swim in bathing suits. She bought me a beautiful two-piece swimsuit with a filler. And everything fits great. Fortunately, the figure is almost like a woman's. The wife offered to drink women's hormones. Taking about 3 months, light feminine breasts with nipples appeared and hips were rounded. She loves it all. And we both see nothing reprehensible in this. Everything is going as if it were. We live well and happily. This is how I look now and my wife is delighted. The linen I wore was all chosen by my wife and my hair. And she took such a great photo.

Mom bought a dress, but I did not understand what it was for me.

Dress up! It is yours and do not argue with your mother!

But mom! I'm not a girl! I won't wear a dress!!

Dress up! You’re not going anywhere, why did I buy it for you in vain ?!

I have no idea why you bought it!

Oh you have no idea! Well, now I'll show you!

Ayy! No need!!

But it was too late and my mother confidently put on this pink lace, girlish dress over the top of me. When it was put on, I was so amazed by it that I almost cried. But I also understood that this was a punishment for my disobedience and perhaps the only way to somehow pacify my "nasty character".

Let's fix the sleeves: So, and the apron too: Here: Now you will be an obedient boy.

I was just in shock and stood silently, sobbing a little, when my mother carefully straightened all the folds on the dress. She also touched up my hair a little, making it match the dress.

Thus, for the rest of the day, I really lost the desire to mess around and mischief, as I always did. I slept as usual in a T-shirt and shorts, but I took off my dress and thought I would not wear it again. No matter how! The next morning, when I had not yet had time to put on a tights and a shirt, my mother brought me some things and said that today I would wear them. Damn, those were girl clothes again!

So, I don't make you change your panties. You're just going to wear pantyhose over them now.

Mom took white thin tights out of the box and quickly began to pin them up so that she could easily pull them over my legs.

It didn’t work to interfere - I just jerked my foot to prevent them from being put on, as I received a slap in the face and a sharp reprimand. "Ugly boy! I'll make you obey!". Pantyhose were on. They are really girly, because they are very thin and transparent, and this confused me a lot.

Now put on your dress and don't try to resist anymore. Hear Oleg, it's all for your good! - she reassured me when I sat all pompous, unusually feeling my legs.

It was already a different dress, - blue color with numerous laces on the edges and buttons in front. I didn’t want to believe it, but such expenses for buying dresses for me could only be explained by serious intentions to dress me up in them: I wore tights for the first time. All the time it seemed to me that I was now a girl, and I could not drive away this thought. It was very difficult to walk in such clothes and continue to be a boy, which I soon confessed to my mother. She explained that these were necessary measures that should soften my character and when she got me to obey, she would allow me to do without these clothes.

The next day began with the same - my mother controlled until I got up and dressed me the same way as yesterday. I no longer resisted dressed everything that I was supposed to.

Then we decided to go for a walk with my mother. It was summer outside and at first I was very worried about what I would have to wear on the street, my mother would not force me to wear a dress! And so it was - they allowed me to take off the dress, but the tights remained, because pants were put on over them.

In pantyhose under my pants, I still felt constrained and insecure throughout the walk. On the way back, we went to a store where my mother, in the department for girls, despite my active attempts to dissuade her, chose suitable clothes for me. I tried in every possible way to pretend that the saleswomen did not understand that my mother was choosing a dress for me, but then my mother herself told them that we choose a dress for my sister, and try on me because I have the same size as my sister.

From a huge variety of dresses, my mother took each one in turn and made me try it on. Some I wore, some just applied to the body. As a result, we chose one beautiful thin summer dress, even though it was a little tight. The purchase of clothes did not end there - other parts of the girl's wardrobe were next in line. It didn’t take long to choose pantaloons and panties - my mother took the most girlish ones, where there were more lace decorations. Pantyhose also bought quickly - three pairs different colors- Nude, white and pink. But when choosing shoes, I had to tinker. I strongly refused those with stilettos, because I thought that I could not get used to them, but my mother insisted on them, saying that they were prettier and that all the girls wear them without complaining. As a result, they took something between my and my mother's preferences - the stilettos are not very large, and the shoes themselves look very personal.

To my even greater dismay, my mother also bought me dolls. Of course, it was very disappointing because of all this, but I understood that the sooner I became obedient, the sooner I would be freed from all this girlish life.

When we returned home, my mother immediately ordered me to undress completely to the naked. I did not hesitate to be naked in front of my mother, because she always bathed me in the same way in the bathroom, and undressed without reproaches, trying to be obedient.

Now dress up like a girl. No more boyish shorts and T-shirts! - Mom said sternly, - choose what color tights do you want? - Don't know. Well, pink: - Pink is so pink: - she opened the package, took out a pair of thin pink tights from there and pulled them on her legs, - well: Turn around .., ta-a-k: Just your size! Now wear panty over pantyhose!

Those panties, just bought, with an abundance of lace embroidery, soon ended up on me. It was another "first time", I had never worn girly panties before. It was very unusual to feel how tightly they wrapped around the waist, and how weakly they covered the buttocks. Mom admired me, and then continued to dress up. I bent down slightly to let her slip through the top of the dress. Everything was visible through the fabric of the dress, even panties, which immediately caused my negative reaction: - I don’t want to walk in this transparent dress! I won't! Please mom, let me wear that blue one, I like it better.

No! You will wear this! Are you arguing again? Do you want me to extend your girl life even more? - No, no, no! I stay in it!

Soon, my mother opened another bought box with shoes. I put them on and immediately felt uncomfortable in my feet, and when I walked around the room, I could hardly move my legs at all. No, the shoes weren't tight, I just wasn't used to them at all. Mom explained: - All girls feel uncomfortable in such shoes for the first time, but it quickly passes, don't worry!

Well, like it or not, you'll have to get used to it, it's unlikely that mom will change her mind.

The days of my re-education have begun. In such clothes, I began to behave even more obediently, for which my mother was infinitely glad. I stopped being rude, contradicting her, acting up, and becoming "pink and fluffy" because I really wanted to earn her trust and stop wearing dresses.

My rare requests and hints did not convince my mother, she was very strict about me and did not allow me to part with my clothes for a minute! I gradually tried on myself, because everything was not so bad - dresses, tights, panties - comfortable and beautiful things, it's not for nothing that girls wear them. My mother tried her best to buy me something new, and this also pleased me, because before I rarely made purchases. Basically, these were dresses of various colors and shapes, knickers and panties were bought less often, and tights - as I wore and tore the old ones.

I had my own locker, where all the girl's things were put together. By the end of the month, the closet was filled almost to capacity and sometimes I even had to look for the right thing from this wide variety. True, then my mother put it in order and ordered me to continue to support it - she divided each type of clothing into compartments and now it has become much more convenient. For example, the whole bunch of tights was on one shelf, and panties on the other, and I could easily choose everything that I wanted to wear. Yes, I began to choose myself, at first, of course, my mother dressed me, but then I was allowed to do it myself.

On the closet door hung a large mirror in front of which I often admired myself. Once, when I was already quite obedient and did not strongly resist girlish clothes, my mother made for me new gift. She bought a large, good cosmetic set, which included padama, brushes, powder, some other little things - in general, the most for girls. But I'm still not a girl!

Or is it a girl? I was afraid that it would go too far and so I made a very active attempt to get my mother to make up her face.

Come quickly your lips, I have already opened the lipstick! Faster and it will dry!

I ran away, pulled out, covered my mouth, but still, under strong pressure from my mother, I soon gave up.

She sat me down in front of the mirror and quickly put on lipstick. They were covered with a juicy red color, swollen and took on a very girly look. Then mom did the rest - powdered her cheeks and dyed her eyelids and eyelashes, after which the eyelids became blue, and the eyelashes were hard and lush. The face was unrecognizable - it became so feminine that it seemed to belong to a real girl.

And so he walked around the house, painted. In combination with a dress and tights, such a “doll face” suited me very well, my mother said. She also said that I no longer need to cut the hair on my head and when it becomes really long (and it is not small now) she will make me very good haircut with curls and braids.

By the next morning, the cosmetics had turned a little pale and washed off, so my mother repeated the procedure for applying it. Moreover, she was dissatisfied with the quality of the lipstick from my cosmetic bag and brought her well-tested, which is very difficult to wash off.

She had a slightly different shade - burgundy red and her painted lips became slightly shiny and smooth.

Soon they bought me another cosmetic bag, expensive, with high-quality accessories, and I no longer had to borrow pamada from my mother. I gradually began to paint my own lips, because it was very pleasant to do it, and my mother only corrected and corrected my actions, teaching all the rules of this art.

Mom also taught how girls should behave, namely, the correct gait, demeanor, good tone, caring for appearance etc. The new rules for me seemed at first too ridiculous, but then I began to understand their necessity for any normal girl.

Over time, I began to play with dolls more, I began to gravitate toward girlish games. I even had a friend - the girl Anya from our entrance sometimes came to us and I played everything with her. It was a lot of fun, we shared different secrets, I showed her how many clothes my mother bought me and Anya just almost died of envy. We stood near the closet, and I showed everything that I had, sometimes letting her try on especially liked. Anya said that they don’t buy so many dresses for her and she doesn’t have thin children’s tights either. Therefore, I gave her two pairs of tights and one dress, of course, after asking permission from my mother.

I also visited Anna. Her parents saw me as an ordinary girl who is friends with Anya and did not suspect anything of the sort. We practiced braiding each other's hair, played mother-daughter, liked to play pranks, and in general were good friends.

A month later, I could no longer be distinguished from a girl, and after two, my voice, character traits, and demeanor changed.

Everything boyish came out of me, giving way to everything girlish. I became a girl, and my mother even began to call me differently - Tanya, that's what my name is now. Well, mommy knows better, so being a girl is my destiny.

Hi all. read a lot different stories about my colleagues, if I may say so too. There were both good and bad. Some complained, some liked it. You can criticize me in the same way as you criticize the rest of the DOs, but I'll risk it anyway. Like many other girls, I came to the city to study. I was born and raised in the village, studied at school, graduated with a medal. I wanted to enter a different place, but my mother insisted on languages, in her footsteps. So I studied reluctantly, just getting credits. Like many, I probably walked, rested, had fun with the guys. New unfamiliar city. A girl of 16-18 years old had a wind in her head. I thought that if I don't have a boyfriend for a while, then I'm not attractive. But I didn't realize they were just taking advantage of me. And in the morning they will send you to hell by calling a taxi. My fault, only mine! None of them forcibly dragged to his home. Just guilt for believing the words. After the third year of university, I decided to earn some money in the summer, I was looking for a waitress, at the car wash, and others (well, where else is a student for the summer). But everywhere they said, we will call you back. And there were no calls for 2 weeks, you pay for the apartment, but food. Drop out of school and go to the countryside? And then what about 3 years of university, because parents spent money on these years with labor. I walked in the evening in despair, hungry. I didn't know what to say to my mother. Say I'll be back. A sports Mercedes followed me, the man offered to give me a ride. I asked to be taken to a cafe (they needed a waitress, the last cafe where I had not yet been). he drove, but took my number. The cafe is also deaf, I went out, another one drove back. When I was already at home, the guy on the Merc asked me to come down. I went downstairs, he offered to help pay for the apartment, give me another living, but for a service. I don’t know, but I agreed (you can judge, but before that I did it for free and they used me, but here at least earnings) and in just some 10 minutes in the car I got a lot of what I was then and even today. He began to support me, but enough for an apartment and life. And then I realized that if I am already selling my services, then I should work and save. Having placed the questionnaire on the site, I began to receive clients, having previously discussed the details of the price and services by phone, and they were sent to the departure card for a taxi. I graduated from the university, but remained in this field. Now there are many regular customers. During the day, almost all are married, and at night they are young and free, they have nowhere to rush. I will say one thing among them and my former lovers were caught, who once used it all night and sent it home, and now they came and paid. To their question "and how did you get to this" I answered "it's more profitable to sleep with you"! and now in the morning it's not you who kick me out because I'm tired, but I you because time is over! But I don't have hatred for men , not because of this same I became a prostitute. I love men very much. Yes, some will get on your nerves on the phone. For example, I learned to distinguish whether he will come or just talk to no one and call everyone. In addition, I have an excellent memory for numbers. I'm 25 now. But for some reason I don't want a relationship. They burden me, oblige me to do something. I guess I'm used to being free. Do what I want. I don’t meet anyone without money, even go to a cafe or drive in a car, I immediately take an hourly payment. If a guy comes up to get acquainted, I immediately answer, there is no relationship right away, do not waste either my or your time, and if you want me, then I work. I don't wish about my choice and life. And I am grateful to that man in the Mercedes. Yes, to all my clients. After the university, when I received my diploma, I wanted to enter the second higher education (which I originally wanted after school), I already had the means (and the second higher education was only commerce), but for some reason work in the field of prostitution was already in the first place. Sorry for taking so long to write, just to make it clearer for those who are interested.

This story takes place in Australia. Michelle was happily married until her husband began to change in a strange way.

I met Ryan at a nightclub in Adelaide in the 80s when I was 18 and I was immediately fascinated by his sense of humor. We very soon became close friends. When I went on a cruise, I felt how much I miss him. Exactly

then I realized that I fell in love.

When I got back, Ryan asked me out on a date. I was afraid it might ruin our friendship, so we didn't kiss for the first time until six weeks later. I was 19 and a good Catholic girl, but he was incredibly patient, and nine months later we were lovers.

We had been dating for three years when Ryan suggested that I move to Melbourne with him, because he played in a band, and in this city they were more likely to be promoted. I didn't want to "live in sin" so he proposed to me. He was 22 and I was 23. We got married in the same church where my parents were married.

We had a great life in Melbourne: we had parties, got acquainted with musical groups We had many good friends. We were happy! Everyone we knew said we were perfect for each other. We stayed best friends, and in sex, everything was great with us. But after three years, Ryan began to move away. In hindsight, the only sign I could tell at the time was that he constantly shaved his armpits, stating that he didn't like the hair growing there.

Soon after, he came home with pierced ears. I never liked it, so his act shocked me. He began to miss work, did not want to get out of bed, so I advised him to see a psychiatrist. I knew something was wrong and I needed to figure out what was going on with him. Ryan said he felt more in common with women than with men, but that didn't bother me much. He was not a particular lover of male company, he was more attracted to music, science, films and parties.

A week later, I found a letter in my bag. The envelope said, "Michelle, please read this on your way to work." I read it immediately. In this letter, he admitted that he thinks he was born in someone else's body and wants to change sex.

That evening we talked a lot, but not about parting. His attitude was: “I love you. Yes, I'm going to be a woman, but I will continue to love you." My position was: "Be at least a woman, even a werewolf, but don't leave me."

I never doubted that he loved me, and it seems that Ryan really believed that everything would be the same when he became a “woman”. I spent hours thinking about the fact that if you love someone, how should it matter to you what gender he is? But I couldn't find any other answer other than that, yes, it mattered to me.

Two weeks later, I got home from work to find Ryan watching TV in my clothes. It shocked and pissed me off at the same time. He explained that he felt like a woman since childhood. Obviously, we don't even remember the moment we realize we're a boy or a girl. Transsexuals, on the other hand, remember, and it makes them angry, because it defines their life.

After this incident, he often dressed in women's clothing. Friends found out about it. This horrified some, but most were simply shocked.

Ryan started taking hormones. We went to Adelaide for his brother's wedding, and although Ryan was wearing a suit and tie, everyone was looking at him and talking about us behind our backs. The next day we told our parents about everything. Mom was in absolute shock. Dad burst into tears and asked: “Does he want to cut off his penis?”, To which I replied: “Well, it’s not really that simple, but in general you are right.”

When we got back to Melbourne, Ryan moved out of my place. After a while he got himself breast implants (which was unusual then) and asked me for a favor - to bring him a bra to the hospital. I remember that on the way to the hospital, I thought: “When I got married, I had no idea that I would buy my husband a bra.”

We both finally agreed to a divorce in 1990. Ryan was so consumed with his changes that our marriage became secondary to him.

He adapted quite quickly, meeting other transgender men at his transgender encounters. I was on a business trip when new partner called me and told me that Ryan's penis removal surgery was a success. I barely found what to say. At that moment, I realized that the man I loved was no more.

Ryan now lives in England. He had several partners, all transgender. As for me, I don't think I've fully recovered from what happened. I had relationships, but they did not last long: I no longer allowed myself to fall in love. I don't regret my marriage because it gave me a few years of happiness and I definitely don't blame Ryan or myself for what happened. However, the consequences of this left a great regret.

Most of the stories about transgender people are told from the point of view of those who are going through this change, and not from the point of view of their partners or family members. I think it's important to bring out the other side as well, because it has huge implications for absolutely everyone who's affected.