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From: sapphire@mhv.net (Sapphire)
Subject: NEW TG: Patricia  ( 6/ 52 )
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Hi folks - A NEW multi-part Transgender story ! 
(Posted with written permission from the author!)

Enjoy!
Sapphire
Sapphire's Place TG Fiction Archive
Sapphire's Channel - Pointcast and Webcast TG Fiction
( http://www1.mhv.net/sapphire )

All the Warnings to Minors are in effect. There are parts that some
feel could corrupt your young minds.

----The Story Follows----------------------------------------
Chapter 6

May 1993
                    Day Three
               Dressing as a Female
                Thursday, May 6th

    
    I fell asleep quickly and slept very well all night.  It was just
getting light when I woke up and I guessed it must be around 6:30
in the morning.  Rolling over on my side, I saw a little bedside clock
and verified my opinion.  It was 6:22.  This movement also was
verification of my new sex. My long hair was caught underneath my
body and limited my freedom of motion.  And those somewhat
pendulous boobs were not very helpful either.  I extricated the hair,
threw back the covers and got out of bed.  This was to be my third
day as a woman.

    Walking into the toilet, I had forgotten what I was wearing.  I
felt the sheer material of the negligee on my body and it did a little
to make me feel just a bit feminine.  But in the bathroom and looking
at myself in the mirror, I again was taken back by the stranger
peering back from the reflection.  The reflected image and my own
mental recollection of my appearance were completely different.  I
thought of myself as a fairly lean and well built young man but I was
observing a complete female, very slim, soft and round.  I went to
the pot, sat down and relieved my self and then back to the sink and
washed my hands and threw some cold water on my face to get the
sleep out of my eyes.

    I decided I needed a cup of coffee so I went into the kitchen
and prepared the automatic and turned it on.  Back in the bedroom,
I remembered the little athletic work out of the previous day and the
dressing could wait until after I exercised and showered.  I pulled
off
the night gown, found my panties and some shorts from the dresser
drawer and put them both on.  Then I pulled the same jersey shirt
over my head and neglected to put on a bra.  Bra's were just too
much bother and I didn't really like wearing one even though they
did make it less distracting during normal movements.  But what the
heck, I could try and get acclimated to their presence during my
workout.

    I went into the exercise room and spent the next forty five
minutes or so, using the cross country ski machine and doing some
simple exercises with little bar bells in my hands.  This new body of
mine appeared to be quite limber and I wondered why.  I had
always been in fairly good shape, but nothing spectacular.  But
doing some of the exercises I was surprised at the contorted
positions I could easily maintain. That physical therapy and exercise
machines at the hospital must have been quite effective as I
seemed to not only have maintained my physical conditioning, it
had been improved.  I tried a back bend and soon had my hands on
the ground near the heels of my feet.  I thought for a moment, said
what the hell, and managed to complete the exercise by bringing up
my legs into a back handstand and then flipped over on my feet in a
vertical position again.  I was amazed with this feat.  For the heck
of
it, I suddenly decided to try a full split and effortlessly was soon
on
the floor with one leg extended forward and the other to my rear in a
perfect and graceful split position.  I could never have done this as
a man just three months ago.  I gave a silent thanks to those
wonderful physical therapists at the clinic.

    Feeling wide awake and totally refreshed, I walked into the
kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee and then back into the
bath and removed my sweaty clothes and dumped them in to the
hamper by the side of the bath.  Next for a shower.  Not wanting to
spend a half hour brushing out my hair, I looked in the bathroom
drawers for something to hold the hair on the top of my head.  I
found a box of hairpins, then pulled back the hair into a pony tail,
twisted it and wound it in a couple of circles around the crown of my
head and then secured it in six or eight places.  Seeing my image in
the mirror, I was again surprised at the sensuous image reflected
back with my hair piled on the back of my head.  My new face was
so completely feminine and pretty.  And then the thought occurred
me, I had just wound up my long hair on my head, pinned it in place
and hadn't even realized just what a alien gesture this really was.  I
shuddered and suspected that some of those hypnotic suggestions
were having an effect on my mind.

    I turned the shower on and adjusted the shower head so the
water wouldn't inundate my head.  Satisfied with the temperature, I
got in and found my washcloth and started cleaning my body.  I had
never tried to take a shower without immersing my head and hair in
the stream of water and it took a extra care to keep the hair dry.  I
soaped my face, body, arms and legs and rinsed off.  I used the
wash cloth to clear the soap from my face and neck just to protect
my hair from the water.  Then I took the soap and did a complete
cleaning of my vaginal area, similar to the way I did it yesterday. 
The most interesting part of the entire shower was washing my
breasts.  The rest of my body may be quite changed, but these big
things were something else.  I could ignore most of the changes to
my body when I wasn't looking into a mirror or bathing, but the
breasts were just omnipresent.  They were big, well formed and in
spite of my self, I really thought they were quite beautiful.  I hated
them and sort of loved them at the same time.  And they definitely
were quite sensitive to the touch, so full and large, but also soft
and
yielding.

    I got out of the shower, grasped a towel and completely dried
off.  This little exercise convinced me that my body was now
completely female and reluctantly, I was starting to accept the
inevitable fact that I was no longer a male.  A more astute person
would have accepted this fact two days ago, but I just wasn't willing
to face up to the reality of my new body.  

    I was now a woman, not a man, and I was trying to acquiesce
to  this fact.  A look in the mirror made it obvious.  There was
nothing even slightly male in the countenance peering back at me in
the reflection.  I was looking at a very pretty girl with a beautiful
face, long hair piled on her head in a large knot, prominent breasts
on the slender torso above the diminutive waist and very feminine
full hips.  And the legs below were quite lovely, long and slim.  But
the real shocker was the pubic area where my penis and scrotum
were completely absent and replaced by that vacuous area in my
crotch.  But I was slowly becoming aware that this "vacuous" area
was not really just a void, but in fact were equally sensitive and
responsive organs as replacement for my male genitalia.  They
were just inwards and not outwards, organs designed to receive and
not to give..
    I was a woman, would remain a woman and decided that I
should try and live like a woman.  And that meant dressing and
really looking like a woman.  I could try and ignore these rather
drastic physical changes and continue pretending that nothing had
happened.  But quite decidedly, something had happened and I was
going to have to face it squarely.  Today I was going to try and live
as a female, dress as a female, and act as a female, just to see if I
could if for no other reason.  No jeans, no tennis shoes, nothing that
was unisex, but go the complete route.

    I now had to decide about the dress for the day, something
that would be comfortable to wear and still convince myself  that I
was trying to adapt to the female way of life.

    Still in the buff, I went to the closet and looked through the
racks and hangers of clothing.  Fifteen or so skirts were hanging
there, an even larger number of dresses,  a bunch of slacks, and a
whole row of blouses.  I had to choose and was trying to make up
my mind between a skirt and sweater combination, a elaborate
blouse with slacks, or one of the many dresses.  I finally chose a
light cotton dress, it looked like it was fairly short with a low cut
neck
line, sort of a pinafore design.  The dress was a green print with a
design of little yellow flowers, and the skirt looked rather full and
wouldn't be too shamelessly and seductively snug.

    I then looked for some matching shoes, and decided on some
white slings with about two inch heels.  I chose these shoes with
some trepidation as I could have picked some similar shoes with flat
heels.  But what the heck, I had never worn a high heeled shoe on
my foot and this would be a completely new experience.   As far as
that went, I had never had on a dress before, but it should be similar
to a bathrobe.  I picked up the dress and shoes and went into the
bedroom and laid them out on the foot of the bed.  While I was at it,
I quickly gave the bed a quick makeup so I could lay everything out
before I started getting dressed.

    Into the dresser drawers and I found some scanty panties,
one of the lower cut brassieres, and some light tan panty hose.  I
wondered if I should wear a slip with the dress and decided I would
at least bring one out to try on and see if it was needed.

    I first put on the panties, and then struggled with the
brassiere.  It was slightly easier today, but still a bother.  The
brassiere was extremely low cut with the fabric just covering my
nipples and thrusting the bulk of the breasts up and out.  Looking
down, I could hardly see the bra and instead saw a great expanse
of cleavage and bare breast.  And the worst thing was that these
breasts were part of me, intrinsic to my physique and not just a
temporary prosthesis.  I could feel pain and pleasure in them, feel
the movement of these breasts when I walked or moved, and
observe them protruding from my chest every time I glanced down.

    Then sitting on the side of the bed, I picked up the panty
hose and thought about how one went about getting them on. 
Probably much like putting on knee high socks.  Putting my hand
down inside one the legs until my hand was at the end of the
stocking.  Then placing the toe of the sock over my foot, I pulled it
up over the calf of my leg.  Then the same with the other foot.  I
stood up and pulled the hose up to my waist and adjusted them so
as to remove any wrinkles along my legs.  Looking down over my
breasts and seeing how sleek and feminine the hose made my legs
appear,  I was beginning to feel  felt quite uncomfortable in the
brassiere, panties, and panty hose.  But uncomfortable wasn't really
the sensation.  It was more like I was a child and dressing up in my
mothers clothes and feeling both guilty, queer and inexplicably, 
somewhat excited while doing it.  But unlike a child just dressing up
and pretending, this lingerie was just emphasizing my complete
feminine appearance.  And in spite of the fact that I felt like a
flaming faggot, the mirror belied this belief with the reflection of a
quite delightful young girl.

    Finally, I picked up the slip and stepped into it, pulling it up
around my waist like the panty hose.  Well, I was half dressed. 
However, my hair was still rolled up on the top of my head, and I
decided I would try and so something different but simple with it. 
And then there was the decision to either try some facial makeup or
leave that for a later day.  I figured what the hell, I would go the
entire way and look as feminine as possible.  These tasks would be
accomplished before I put on the dress and shoes.
    I walked into the bathroom and was really impressed with the
underwear, or to be more exact, the lingerie I was wearing.  The
skimpy little bra exposed large portions of feminine flesh and my
legs, encased in the cool slinky feeling of the nylon felt completely
different and somewhat sexy in a female manner.  The rayon half
slip, frilly and sinuous hanging down around my hips further
intensified this extremely girlish effect.  I did a slight pirouette
on the
way just to feel the slip flair against my nylon clad legs.  This was
a
complete different experience for me and I was sort of enjoying it. 
However, I wasn't sure if I felt like a delicate girl or a very
peculiar
man.

    Now for the hair.  I reached to the top of my head and pulled
out the hairpins holding my hair up and released it letting it fall
down my back. When it was completely free, I picked up a brush
and started brushing out the long hair.  It was a lot easier now when
it was dry than yesterday when I had started with a tangled damp
mess.  But it still took over five minutes of brushing to get the hair
falling down in a healthy and silky looking mass.  Pushing it all to
the back of my head, I picked up a comb and made a line roughly
from the top of my left ear to the top of my right ear.  Separating
this
hair from the rest took a bit of doing and keeping the part fairly
straight was exceeding difficult. 

    With my right hand manipulating the comb and my left hand
trying to get control of the bunch of separated hair, I nearly got
frustrated.  But eventually I had the hair from the top of my head in
my fist and pulled it away from my face.  I picked up a rubber band
type thing from the drawer and tried to fasten it around the new
hank of hair.  Succeeding, I brushed out the top tresses and then
the rest of the hair hanging down my back.   Reading about it in the
book had made the entire process seem a lot simpler.

    Back into the drawers I was looking for some ribbons. 
Searching all the drawers, I came up empty so back into the
bedroom again and into the dresser drawers.  Finally, I found a little
drawer that was just filled with ribbons of various lengths and
colors. 
Picking out a variety, I held them next to my chosen dress and
finally decided on one green and one yellow, each about two feet
long, that seemed to match the colors in the dress fairly closely.  
    Back to the bath, again impressed with the feeling of my legs
and their affinity with the slip, I reached to my head and pulled the
little pony tail down in front of my eyes so I could accurately
separate the hair into three separate bunches.  Then tucking in the
two ribbons underneath the rubber band holding the mini-tail in
place, I proceeded to braid the hair, including the green ribbon with
one strand of hair and yellow ribbon with a second strand.  This
should have been fairly easy, but doing it blindly behind my head
was a real challenge.  I was having a hell of a time keeping the
various hanks of hair straight and separate from the others.  But
finally finished, I fastened the end of the braid with another rubber
band and went back to the bedroom and the ribbon drawer.  I
picked out a big white bow with a clip embedded in it and securely
fastened to the base of the braid at the crown of my head.

    I found a hand mirror and looked at the completed effect and
it looked really quite good.  However, I  was judging this more from
the vantage point of an engineer than a hair dresser.  I had worked
hard to get the hair looking like this and I was pleasantly surprised
and pleased with the results. I picked up my hair brush and gave a
number of strokes to the unbraided hair and finally decided that I
looked ok.  Then I was again surprised and mentally realized it that
I was thinking in a very female manner again.  I suspected both the
hypnosis and the hormones with this discovery that I was no longer
thinking in a completely male manner.  This change of mental
perspective was nearly as shocking as the physical changes to my
body.

    I went back to the bedroom and sat at the dresser and turned
on the lights to illuminate my face.   I opened the drawers, one by
one and found one that was just loaded with all the items I had read
about yesterday afternoon. I picked out a couple of lipsticks, some
blush, an eye kit with eye shadow, and some mascara. I eschewed
the pancake base figuring enough was enough.  I looked at the
lipsticks and chose a rose shade that wouldn't be overly noticeable,
yet would look entirely odd on a man.

    Picking up a little grease pencil, I applied a very thin line
around the outline of my lips.  The lips had been changed
drastically from the lips I had as a man, the bottom lip was slightly
fuller and the top lip had been greatly enhanced.  Picking up the
rose lipstick, I applied it to upper lip, then the bottom one.  Then
using a little paint brush, I started to very carefully smooth out the
application.  What ever I looked like, I didn't want to look like a
whore.  Finishing, I picked up some tissue and blotted it like I had
read and looked at the finished mouth.  I added a touch of lip gloss
and looked in the mirror.  The lip color would have looked out of
place on my old male countenance, but in my new feminine face it
looked quite unexceptional, just a natural enhancement one would
expect on that lovely countenance.

    Searching through the drawer, I spotted a bottle of liquid that
was labeled "Lip Saver" and applied a coating of that stuff to the
lips
on top of the color and the gloss.  According to the directions on the
bottle, this stuff would keep the color from coming off on everything
my lips touched.

    Then it was on to the eyes.  Using the eyeliner, I outlined the
basic contour of the eye lids, again in a very thin line and then
applied a little green eye shade.  I picked up the mascara and
slowly tried to get some on my lashes.  The upper eyelashes were
little trouble, but the lower ones were much more difficult.  I was
very careful not too use much, just a touch.  And the effect was
quite startling.  I don't recall reading anything about enhancing my
eyelashes, maybe it was the female hormones, but they were huge
and the mascara made them seem so damn prominent.  In fact my
eyes were like orbs of fire in the middle of my face.  I touched up my
much diminished eyebrows with eyebrow pencil and then a little
blush for the cheeks and I was finished.  

    My first attempt was quite an ego builder.  My face was
enhanced, but didn't look painted and I didn't appear to look like a
whore.  In fact, the entire face didn't really show much of the
makeup,  I looked quite natural, that is if I wanted to be taken as a
pretty girl and not a normal man.  I was quite pleased with myself. 
There were some good things about being female.  In fact it was
quite pleasing to see my image in the mirror.

    Now the nails on my fingers.  My nails were quite a bit longer
than I had ever worn them, about one-quarter to three-eights of an
inch from the quick.  I found the row of finger nail polishes and
picked out a color that sort of matched my lipstick.  I opened the
bottle and pulled out the brush, wiping the excess paint off at the
bottles rim.  Then very carefully, I applied the finger nail polish to
my nails.  I tried to be very careful, but couldn't help but paint
part of
my finger also.  I reached for the polish remover, dabbed some on a
tissue, and continued on.  Eventually I had all ten nails looking
quite
bright.  I held out my hand and was very fascinated with the delicate
look of my hands with their painted nails extending from my long
slender fingers.  I then repeated the entire operation with a second
coat.  And as the book had instructed, I finally added a coat of clear
polish to seal the results.  This took nearly a half hour.

    Well, my face, hair and nails were done, now into the dress
and finally some jewelry.  I went into the bedroom and picked up the
dress,  unsnapped the back and stepped into it.  Pulling it up over
my hips, adjusting the bodice around my bust and getting my arms
through the shoulder straps was quite arduous.  Next time I would
try it over my head from the top down instead of from the bottom up. 
As I tried to fasten up the back, I was again wondering  why all
female clothes require a contortionist to fasten up the backs.  Men's
clothes, quite sensibly, usually, if not always fasten from the front,
but at best, women's clothes zip or button on the side and usually, it
is down the middle of your back where you can't get at those little
hooks or buttons very easily.  I thought it completely ridiculous.
But
eventually I was fastened into this costume, at least that was how a
felt about the dress, a costume, not real clothing.
    I went to the jewelry drawer and looked at the rather large
selection of costume jewelry there. I tried on ten or twelve different
rings and finally settled on four, two on each hand.  Then a
necklace, bracelet and ear rings.  There was a set nested together
that included three bracelets and a necklace.  They were all silver
filigree and I held them up to my breasts, judging how they would
look.  I was satisfied and put them one.  Two of the bracelets on my
right arm and one on the left with the necklace around my neck. 
 
    I looked at all the baubles in the drawer and my eyes
centered on a matching set of six silver rings, a completely suitable
match for the necklace.  The two smallest were just a tiny little
silver
filigree studs, the second two were similar but slightly larger and
the
last two were long dangling ones.  I selected these and laid them
out on the top of the dresser.

    I picked up one of the little ones and pulled the fastener off of
the pin.  Reaching up to my right ear, I positioned it at the top hole
and tried to feed that little pin through my ear.  It slipped through
easily and I added the fastener to hold it in place.  I continued with
the rest of them and had no problem installing them in my ear lobes. 
The completed effect was quite striking and fairly sensual.  The top
two were quite decorative and the bottom one's came down behind
my cheeks.  For some reason, I have always been intrigued with
women's ear rings, and seeing these on my new face gave me a
nearly sexual thrill.  I seemed to be getting into this dress up thing
and was enjoying it.  Was this the lingering ideas of a transvestite
male or the beginnings of female thought.  Either way,  the idea was
anathema to me.

    Back to the bedroom and sitting on the side of the bed, I tried
on the shoes and they fit nearly perfectly.  Or probably did fit
perfectly for a woman who was used to a tight fit all of her life.  To
me, they seemed slightly uncomfortable on the small side, but were
adequate.  After all they were really just a bunch of straps with a
little leather on the sides.  Then I stood up and wondered what I
looked like.

         My apartment had two full length mirrors, one on the
door to my bedroom and one on the door of the living room. But with
a quick look into the bedroom mirror I walked to the living room with
it's full length mirror on the outer door.  I sort of waltzed out of
the
bedroom and into the living room, not having too difficult time
balancing on my new high heeled shoes.  I walked a bit differently
that normally, mainly since the high heels weren't meant to carry the
full weight of the occupant and they were far to diminutive to walk
with a normal heel toe movement.  This forced me to walk with a flat
footed gait, sort of clumping my way across the rooms.  It must be
an extremely graceful woman who looked at ease and poised in
high heeled shoes.

    In the living room, I saw my reflection in the mirror as I
approached it.  I observed an extremely willowy looking girl who
wasn't acting all that graceful, advancing on the mirror.  As a man, I
know that I would have been impressed with this hunk of pulchritude
promenading across the room.  Glancing down at my breasts, I
noticed that the dress just covered the fabric of the bra and little
else.  A lot of cleavage and well rounded flesh was quite evident.  I
walked up to the mirror, twirled around a couple of time to make the
skirt and slip flair out.  If I turned quick enough, my hair also
swung
away from my back, my ear rings swayed and it all looked and felt
very sensual.  I may be still be thinking mainly like a man, but I was
looking at one hell of a foxy woman.  The long hair swinging down
my back, the ear rings, the dress over the slip, all made me feel like
a faggot in drag, a relatively horrible feeling.  But there also was a
rather subdued and hidden feeling of a woman dressed quite nicely
and looking very sexy.  It was with these mixed feelings that I stared
at myself in the mirror.


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