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 First Time Feminised : by (c) Lady Joyce Hamilton.  tv

   'You look very feminine, Claire, sexy and every inch a pretty young
girl. Have you been cross-dressing all your life?'

   'No, Max, the idea never even crossed my mind till a couple of years
back.  Would you like to hear how it happened?'

   'I'd love to.'

   'Well, you go and fill those glasses up, and I'll tell you about it.'

   The pub was getting more crowded now, and While he was at the bar I
shifted my chair so it was closer to his and we would be able to talk
without being overheard.  A guy asked nicely and took the third chair away
to another table, which suited me.

   I took a sip of my white wine and started in.

   'I left school at sixteen and took up an engineering apprenticeship at
the Aircraft Factory.  That was September three years ago.  I had been a
good footballer at school, and almost immediately was in the works team,
which played in the Sunday Leagues.  I am very fast and have got good
ball-control skills, and I was soon a key player with my ability to get
behind the defense and cross the ball from the bye-line.  Nearly all our
goals came from my crosses, and I also took all the corners and free kicks
around the penalty area, so I was a popular guy with the rest of the team,
especially the strikers, despite being six inches smaller, three stones
lighter, and ten years younger than the rest of them.  They were all very
nice to me and I became almost the team mascot.

   It was largely down to me that at the end of the season we had won
promotion.  We always had a few beers after the Sunday match, but to
celebrate out Champion status our Captain, Simon Harker, said we should all
go out for a meal together the next Friday, chosen so we would not have to
worry about getting up for work the next day.'

   'I know Simon Harker.  Tall, muscular, good-looking guy with wavy dark
hair, in Personnel Department.'

   'That's the guy.  So come the Friday evening it was down to The Golden
Lion in Market Square at eight o'clock and a real beery session with the
whole team, our Manager, and a couple of guys who had played occasionally.
We were a big, noisy, and very boozy crowd.  By ten thirty we were all
drunk when Simon Harker told us it was time to go to the Taj Mahal where he
had reserved a table for fifteen.  Looking back I feel sorry for the other
diners that evening as along with the curry we had a lot more beer, were
very noisy, and getting drunker by the minute.

   We had finished our meal by midnight, by which time all the pubs were
closed: this was before twenty-four hour licensing came in.  Simon
suggested we all go down to The Criterion, a club where we could get more
beer and might even pull a few girls.  Most of the crowd had had enough and
got cabs to go home, but five off us staggered off to the club.  The
Bouncer at the door took one look at us, decided we were far too drunk, and
would not let us in.  There was a bit of argument but then Simon Harker
suggested we go back to his flat and have some beers there.  He said his
wife was away at her mother's so that was no problem.  He lived in one of
those new flats near St James' so it was only a five minute walk, or
stagger.'

   'Nice flats those.'

   'Yes, and his is a big one on the top floor, views across the town. 
Anyway he opened some more bottles for us, but before I even touched mine I
had dozed off on the sofa.

   When I woke up everyone had gone except me and Simon.  I was still
drunk, and badly wanted a piss.  I went to the bathroom, unloaded and
washed my face with cold water, feeling better by the time I sat down again
on the sofa, still drunk, but ready to drink my bottle now, still on the
side table.  Simon came and sat beside me.  He was well-drunk and as he
sprawled there his body touched mine, and stayed there.  I scarcely
noticed, but thought for a second that most guys would have shifted away a
bit so as not to touch.

   He started a monologue about his troubles.  His wife was not at Torquay
with her mother as she said, but probably with her lover somewhere in this
very town.  Her mother had actually phoned him yesterday to ask how she
was, so he knew his wife was lying.  She had a lover somewhere, the bitch.
He seemed close to tears, drunk as he was, and I felt sorry for him despite
being embarassed by his confessions: he was a grown man and me hardly more
than a boy, and I still had to listen to all this.  He put his hand on my
thigh, gripping it, as he told me how he gave her everything she wanted,
nice home, good clothes, everything, but it was never enough.  Then with
his hand still on my thigh, he put his arm round my shoulder and started to
pour into my young ear how unsatisfactory their sex life was, how his wife
never came and did not really want it, how it was just "missionary
position" in-out and off and nothing else, no pussy-sucking and no
cock-sucking, and he would not dare even to suggest anal.  She was a real
sexual prude but he had suspected she was having an affaire, and now he was
now certain she was.  On and on it went.  He was nearly weeping into my
shoulder, and I could hear the anguish in his voice as he sobbed, his hand
gripping my thigh, his arm pulling me close to him.

   I felt sorry for this big, strong, handsome man who any woman would
fancy, I thought, reduced to such a mess.  I put my hand over his, on my
knee, and squeezed it to show sympathy.  He must have interpreted the
gesture as meaning something quite different, because before I knew what
was happening his lips were on mine in a passionate, open-mouthed kiss.  I
must have tensed, but to tell the truth I had very little real human
contact, human warmth at that time, and the kiss was not at all unpleasant.
I had no girl friend, and had never had one, and certainly no boyfriend so
this was my first sexual kiss.  I let him put his tongue in my mouth, and
he must have hugged me for a couple of minutes, before he stopped.

   'Oh Carl, I'm so sorry.  I don't know what came over me.'

   'No problem Si, I liked it really.'

   'You look so pretty, so feminine even.  And your lips looked so kissable
I could not help myself.  Your lips so full, your body so smooth and
feminine in the showers....' His voice died away.

   I knew I had a pretty body, not very masculine, but certainly pretty.  I
was slender, still am thank goodness and daily gym...but fit, and with my
youthful blonde complexion my body was smooth, tanned, and nearly hairless.
I was hairless naturally: I had seen him in the showers too, and he was
waxed so his torso was smooth, and he was hairless, belly, back, sack and
crack as they say.  But nothing feminine about him!

   'I want to kiss you again.'

   This time I reciprocated and slipped my tongue into his mouth while he
held me close.  We did not touch each others' cocks, though I found myself
wondering if his was hard like mine.

   'So pretty, so feminine.  would you do something for me?'

   'What, Simon?'

   'Wait there a minute.'

   I took a swig of beer.  I was still drunk, but this was moving in a
strange and a bit alarming direction.

   When he came back it was to drop and armful of lingerie in my lap.  'Put
these on for me, Carl.  I would so like to see you in them.  nothing more,
I promise.' He lurched a bit.  'I'll wait in the kitchen, and come in when
you're dressed.'

   I was distinctly nervous taking my shoes and clothes off, and nearly
decided not to go ahead with this, but I picked up the lingerie, and it
felt good betweeen my fingers, so light and flimsy.  I sniffed at it and it
smelled slightly of lavender.  I decided to go ahead and took my underpants
off too.  You must forgive me if I do the transvestite thing and describe
in detail the things he wanted me to put on: we just can't resist that, and
when one tranny meets another the talk is often of clothes!  They were not
new stockings, but they had no ladders and were long enough to come almost
up to my crotch when I pulled them up.  I ran my fingers up them and it
felt good, looked good too, charcoal black and glossy.  I had a bit of a
problem with the suspender belt till I realised that I could fasten it at
the front, and then slide it round my body so it was the right way round,
catch at the back and black satin bow at the front.  I fixed the front
clips easily, but the back straps were the usual fight.  Still are!  There
was a long mirror at the end of the rather minimally furnished room and I
looked at myself.  The flimsy black lace looked good I decided, and I posed
and could see that my legs had become quite feminine.  I slipped the
panties up over my hard cock, and worried a bit that drops of precum would
spoil them.  But these, really just a thong at the back between my bottom
cheeks and a little strip of black lace with a nearly transparent black
nylon panel at the front, not only looked good they felt good as I stroked
my cock through the nylon.  I felt my naked arse cheeks and wondered what
it would feel like to have nylon over my arse as well as cradling my balls.
I soon worked out that the tiny, black lace bra, was best fastened first
and then stepped into.  It was nice and tight across my nipples, though I
had no tits of course to fill the small cups.  His wife must have beeen
about my build, I thought, and with tiny tits.

   'Are you ready, Carl?'

   'Yes, Si.'

   He came in, still fully dressed.  I half expected him to be in his
underwear or naked or something, and to be honest I was just a little bit
disappointed, though mostly relieved.  This was all moving a bit fast for
me.

   'God!  You look lovely.' He was sitting beside me again, and we were
kissing even more passionately.  He had his hands all over my legs, bottom
and especially my nipples through the fine lace.  'You're so pretty and
feminine.  Just like a girl.' He kissed me again.

   'Oh.  Carl, I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have said that, and I shouldn't be
doing this.  I'm so sorry.  I think we must be drunk.'

   'Don't worry, Si.  Just a bit of harmless fun.  No need to apologise.'

   'But you do look so ....' he hesitated, 'so sexy....'

   I knew he was hard, and I was hard too.  But neither of us dared do
anything about it.  He wanted me, and without knowing in quite what way, I
wanted him.  But nothing happened.  He apologised again, and we went to
bed, me in the double bed, and him on a divan in the spare room.  I was
still bladdered and I just pulled the sheets over my head and went out like
a light.

   ...................................................................

   I woke up in the morning with a sore head, wanting a piss, wondering
where I was and how I came to be wearing lingerie and stockings.  It was
just gradually coming back to me, when Simon came in with a tray and two
coffees.  He was just wearing tight, pale blue cotton under-shorts, hugging
his body.  He looked so handsome, I thought, tanned and completely waxed
hairless, broad shoulders and narrow hips, a lovely smile, and that floppy,
wavy, dark hair.

   'Jeez!  You still look great, Carl, even when I'm sober.'

   'Don't feel great.'

   'Get this black coffee down you, have a shower, and we'll see how we
feel then!'

   I had my pee and shower.  I didn't need to shave back then, once a week
was quite enough with my blonde complexion and really undeveloped body:
still is really!  There was a toothbrush still in its cellophane, so I used
that and began to feel quite civilised.  I wondered whether to put the
stcokings and lingerie on again.  It was tempting as I had enjoyed the look
and feel, but I was still a bit embarassed and decided not to.  So I was
naked when I went back into the room.  Simon had finished his coffee and
was laying propped up on the bed, still in his underpants, but I could see
his cock outlined and erect now.  I felt mine stirring at the sight of him,
so masculine and handsome.  Also he had laid out on the bed wonderful
things!

   I could see a white satin basque with pastel blue trim (same pastel
colour as his underpants as it happened), white panties, proper satin
panties this time, white glossy nylons, fuly fashioned, white high-heeled
shoes, a blonde shoulder length wig, and most wonderful of all a box with a
wedding dress half in it and half draped over it.

   'Please do this for me, Carl.  You'll look wonderful in these.  Please!'

   His voice was almost desperate as he implored me, and I had a brief
impression of what it must have cost him to beg me, of how much he really
wanted to fulfill this fantasy.  I held the dress up against my naked body
for a second, looking in the mirror.  It would certainly fit!  And I quite
liked the idea: Simon was an all round nice guy, and I had certainly
enjoyed his embraces the night before, as far as I remembered them through
the beer-haze.

   'OK.'

   'Wonderful!  Lovely.  I'll wait otside while you dress.  The shoes will
fit.  I've checked, and there's some make-up on her dressing table.  I'll
wait.  Call me when you're ready.

   I made him wait rather a long time, almost half an hour.  The basque was
tight, and I found it difficult to fasten, but finally I managed and it
fitted perfectly.  With this one I really need tits, so I hunted around in
his wife's drawers finding some really lovely sexy lingerie as I did so.  I
spent a few moments looking, feeling, yes and pressing the silk to my
cheeks and cock.  Finally I crumpled up two pairs of pink satin knickers,
one for each breast, and they filled the basque out nicely.  The stockings
were marvellous, silky and slinky, and with the high-heels on I felt, and
looked, so feminine and sexy as I admired myself in the mirror.  My cock
was standing as hard as it could ever be, and looked so good along with all
that femininity it almost seemed a shame to pull on the white panties, with
their blue bow at the front, but I did of course.  I tried to put on the
dress, but the zip and catch at the back were beyond me.  I took it off
again, and instead varnished my nails a very bright red.  This was easier
than I thought it would be, and I reckoned I had made a good job of it.  I
hardly needed any make-up as my smooth skin is almost feminine, and I was
sun-tanned, but I dabbed on a bit of powder, and lipsticked my lips to
match my scarlet nails.  I noticed it was guaranteed "non-smudge".  Good as
I was beginning to look forward to kissing Simon again.

   I found it was easier than I expected to walk about naturally on the
heels.  It was fun too, looking at my ankles and legs in the mirror.

   She had perfumes on the dressing-table, and I chose one I had heard of
and dabbed it behind my ears....and as an afterthought in the crease of my
arse.

   There was just the wig.  This was easy too, but it needed brushing a bit
to make it shine and fall nicely to my shoulders.  There was a paste tiara
in the dress box, and I slipped it over the wig: it would help to hold it
in place, and looked very bridal I thought.  I stepped into the dress
again, holding it up to my tits as I looked in the mirror.  I was
astounded! I was a pretty young girl, hundred percent girlie, and would
pass anywhere as a sexy little teenager!  I called out to Simon.

   'Jeez!  You are fantastic!'

   'You'll have to zip up my dress for me.'

   'Of course!' I felt his lips on the back of my neck, and then the catch
and zip closed, the dress tight over my false bosom.  'Feel and smell
lovely.  And just look in the mirror, Carl.'

   'Can't call me Carl dressed like this!' I laughed.  I was even beginning
to act girlish.'How about Claire?'

   It is amazing how cross-dressing changes your character: I was beginning
even to sound a bit like a girl: voice too deep of course, but flirtatious
and giggly.

   'Kiss me, Claire, darling.  My little virgin bride.'

   I had been looking forward to this, and like last night I melted into
his arms and we stood by the bed kissing.  I could not help looking over
his shoulder at myself in the mirror, a beautiful bride, but also at his
triangular, tanned back and hard little butt in those figure-hugging
trunks. I raised my leg between us, and felt hism grip it between his
thighs.

   I deliberately tipped us over towards the bed, and we were laying on it,
me on my back and Simon half on top of me.  He was whispering non-stop,
soft love about his bride, his little candy girl, his sweet lover, how
feminine and how pretty I was, how he had dreamed of this....all very
exciting to me as I stroked and caressed his shoulders and shaven chest. 
Then greatly daring I allowed my hand to brush the front of his underpants.
He was hard, and I longed to feel it, and finally I found the courage to
grasp his prick through the soft cotton.  It felt like steel, and as he
groaned his pleasure, without thinking at all I bent over and closed my
mouth on the length of the shaft, still decently inside his pants.  I was
in a state, heart racing, cock twitching, and still without thinking what I
was doing I had his cock out, long and strong and hairless, and "cut" like
mine, with a wonderful strong, flaring knob, and I kissed it, tasting
precum for the first time in my young life.  I wanted more, and despite all
the insults I had heard used of other people, in that instant I became a
"cock-sucker", my lips over that firm knob, and the shaft sliding down to
meet my palate.  I wanted it, lord how I wanted it, and I sucked and
rubbed, sucked and rubbed, while he held my head, hands on my blonde wig,
guiding my movement.  He tried to warn me he was coming, but I would have
none of that and made him come in my mouth, filling it with spurt after
spurt of slippery hot cum.  I found I was trying to murmur "lovely! 
lovely! lovely!" as my mouth was filled and I swallowed and swallowed.

   Now it was his turn, and he had his head right up under the hem of my
wedding dress.  It must have been dark under that heavy satin and brocade,
but his hand had my cock out of my panties, and I felt his mouth warm and
wet on my knob, and then the shaft as my cock slid down into his mouth.  I
was dimly aware of his hands caressing my buttocks and nylon-ed thighs, and
then grasping my cock and gently squeezing my balls as he sucked and licked
at me.  I lay back in ecstacy, and could not help looking in the mirror at
us.  I could see his cock, and he was still erect!  amazing after the power
of his coming.  And I felt so feminine the object of his passion. 
'Claire', I thought.  'Claire giving herself to her man on her wedding
night.' And with that thought I came.  Like me he swallowed every drop.

   Then, laying side-by-side we were telling each other how good it had
been, and he was undoing the clasp and zip on my dress and taking it off
me. I lay on my back as he drew my panties down: I must have looked a dream
in blonde wig and bridal stockings and basque.  I felt him bend my legs
back, and then he was applying lube to my arse-crease sliding a finger into
my anus.  I wanted this: I wanted to be his, to lose my virginity to this
handsome, powerful, demanding male.  I knew it would hurt, but in fact I
was so relaxed and submissive now, so prepared for the final act of love,
that there was almost no discomfort even.  His cock slid easily up into me,
and I lay there quiet while he fucked me.  He had already emtied his balls
into my mouth, but he was so hyper-excited that it did not take more than a
minute or two, and I was aware he was coming deep inside me.  The thought
that I was no longer virgin, that in fact I was no longer completely male,
was so strange that I felt myself coming again, and I squirted all over my
lovely white basque.

   We lay there, astounded both of us by what had happened.  Life would
never be the same again for either of us now.  We had tasted the fruits of
long-forbidden pleasure, and there was no going back.

  
...........................................................................
......

   He wanted me to stay all day Sunday and Sunday night too.  I agreed on
the understanding I would be dressed as Claire all the time.

   In the afternoon we went into town, me in borrowed blue jeans, top and
flatties, my wig and make-up turning me into an attractive girl, perhaps a
young wife out with her husband, and I felt so proud to be on the arm of
this handsome, confident man.  Somehow I was more aware of my own body, and
not only my bottom I should add, which was still a bit sore, but which was
a constant reminder of what we had dared to do, and the new bond between
us. We bought my own lingerie, shoes, and a few dresses, skirts and tops.
Yes, and two wigs, one long blonde, and the other shorter auburn, some
"sensible" shoes and some unashamedly sexy ones.  And some perfume and
make-up.  A wonderful shopping trip.  Then a meal (MacDonalds!) and home to
watch some porn he had (mostly male and transexual which shows it was a
real compulsion for him!) and then to bed, me in a black see-thru nightie.
He fucked me twice during the night!

   And that, Max is how I discovered by trans-sexuality.'

   'What happened with his wife?'

   'When we got back from work Monday afternoon, I heard him phone her and
tell her he knew she was having an affaire and wasn't within two hundred
miles of her mother's in Torquay, and that he wanted a divorce, amicable if
possible.  He did not regard himself as wronged, he said, 'it was just one
of the things that happens'.  They agreed he would pack up her things: she
could keep the car, could come round for the cases Thursday evening, and
take them away to her lover.  I stayed out of the way till late Thursday,
and Friday evening we packed up my few belongings, I left my bed-sitter and
moved in with him.  We lived as man and wife for about a year.

   'Then?'

   'Then I started to get bored with him, and to cap it I met Sir Clive. 
He's much more elegant, older of course but very virile.  and he had enough
money to be able to afford an expensive mistress....me.  He set me up in my
Marlborough Buildings flat, and later actaully gave the deeds to me.  He's
very generous with clothes, jewelry and even cash.  I'm in clover, Max.'

   'Are you risking all that with me, Claire?'

   'Lord no.  He loves threesomes.  In fact if you would like to drink up
we can stroll round to my flat and he'll be waiting.  I'll give him a call
to tell him to expect a handsome young man too!''

   'Ok.  Sounds good.  But will he want to.  I mean I've never...'

   'Fuck you?  No.  But he will want you to suck him off while you fuck me.
And that's just starters.  You'd better take one of these before we leave.
It's going to be a long night.' He watched me unpop one of the blue pills
for myself, and swallowed the other one himself like a lamb.

   .......................................................................