This is Becoming a Habit

 I'm on another business trip, and as is becoming usual, I bought myself some nail polish and makeup.

I bought a cheap makeup box on Amazon, which includes foundation, bronzer, blush, a bunch of eyeshadow, and lip gloss. It's a very small case, and it comes with little brushes. It's low quality stuff, but I want to practice putting on eyeshadow especially. I had it delivered to the hotel so I wouldn't have to pack it.

When I got here, I also had to get myself some nail polish. I get really excited about painting my nails, and I jump at the chance to do it when I'm travelling alone. I'm getting better at putting it on, but I still need a lot of practice. I still want to wear it in public someday, but I'm not ready for that now.

I also bought some eyeliner and mascara. I couldn't just do eyeshadow, right?

I read and watched tutorials on how to do it. I need a lot of practice. I must say though that it's really, objectively fun! Never mind that I'm a raging sissy, it's really enjoyable putting colors on my face. Brushing it on, blending it, and watching it come together is altogether pleasant. I look hideous, and I did a pretty bad job, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Now I've got my eyes and lips made up, and my nails painted, and I'm wearing panties and a nightie. I'm totally girlied out, and I love every bit of it! I really wish right now that I was a pretty woman, so I could do justice to what I'm wearing. For a while I lay back in bed and simply luxuriated in this femininity.

I'll be here for three more nights. I'll be removing the nail polish from my fingers every morning, and putting it on again at night. I plan to practice putting on the makeup every night as well, but whether I'll have the energy to remains to be seen. On Thursday, I'm expecting a delivery of two dresses, a bodysuit, and two bras. I had wanted it to arrive much sooner, but that's the way it goes sometimes.

Right now I'm especially excited that I'm becoming the type of person who knows how to put on makeup.

Working Out

For quite some time now, I've not been getting any exercise. I used to go jogging pretty regularly, and I had a routine of push-ups, crunches, and various other body-only exercises to keep in shape. I stopped, partly because of schedule changes and work and family obligations, partly because of laziness, and, crucially, partly because I didn't want to look so manly. 

Looking back to some years ago, my attitude to exercise has been corrupted by my secret desire for femininity since at least a few years ago. I used to exercise as a way to assert my manhood in the face of these feminine urges, but that stopped a long time ago. At some point, exercise became linked in my head with femininity. I love the way women look in tight athletic wear, and I yearn to join them.

Apparently, I never confessed to this here before, but for a while a few years ago, I had access to showers at work, where you'd have to borrow a key. I used to work out on the beach on the commute into work, and when I got to the office, in the shower, I would dress up in swimsuits. I remember this whenever I work out. Even then, I used to fantasize about working out on the beach wearing girl stuff. I need to write a post about that.

Anyway, By now it's been many months since I've done any kind of regular exercise, and I've got a pot belly, which looks just awful when I dress up. I want to get back into shape, and yes, a huge motivation is how I'll look in the mirror in a bikini or in lingerie.

Some of the few times I've jogged over the last couple of years, I've been possessed with the idea of getting in shape to be feminine. I long to wear women's workout clothes. Remember when I bought myself a sports bra and some workout pants when T__ took a brief trip that one time?

With all of this in mind, I've been strongly considering jogging in feminine workout clothes. I'm shopping online for some cute booty shorts, which I could wear under my male athletic shorts with nobody noticing. I could wear my sports bra under my shirt. This motivates me to work out, because it comes with the reward of going secretly en femme.

Once I have the shorts, I'll have a complete feminine exercise outfit. I'll start with jogging, but I'll be tempted to do my other exercises in it, too. Then the challenge will be concealing all of this from my family.

I Want Nails and Makeup

 I've had a smoldering obsession with getting my nails done, ever since the mall date incident during the time when we were going to couples therapy. Often, just imagining having polish on my nails is enough to wind me up.

I'm taking a business trip this week, which gives me an opportunity to do it again. I'm giddy with excitement! But, I'm also a bit more ambitious: since I'm planning to buy my nail polish and remover from a drugstore near my hotel, I might as well get some basic makeup as well!

I've only very rarely tried on makeup. I don't even remember the last time, and I'm not sure I've ever tried on anything more than lipstick. This time, I'm more interested in eye makeup. I'm getting eyeliner, mascara, and maybe shadow.

I've generally avoided makeup, mostly because of the challenge of keeping it secret when I only have an hour or so at most to play dress-up. I've never felt committed enough to it to buy any, and I wouldn't dare to use my wife's. It hasn't been a crucial part of my fantasies, although my fascination with eye makeup has been growing for some time. 

For some time now, I've been much more interested in not only dressing up to feel feminine, but in actually looking feminine as well. Makeup is definitely a huge part of that. I want to see how I look. I know it'll take a lot of practice, which I don't have much opportunity for, but I'm very keen on getting started.

It feels like I'm taking my femininity to a new level. Hopefully, I'm able to find what I need, and go through with it...

Diary: Writing a Diary

Several months ago, I started keeping a log of my crossdressing sessions. I've been curious about identifying habits, patterns, and themes over time. I had an identical process years ago, but I stopped when it became tedious to record all the details after the fact.

Recently, I realized that it would be sort of fun to describe at least some of these sessions publicly. There's some value to others in reading about my real-life experiences; and there's a certain thrill I get out of writing about it. There's a huge amount of fiction out there that purports to do this, but veers into fantasy. This is going to be quite a bit more boring, but will likely include some description of what I'm fantasizing about.

Enjoy!

Trans-transsexual?

Over the years, my understanding about my compulsion for feminizing myself has evolved. Over the same time period, transsexualism has become more and more mainstream, and many things have changed with social acceptance as well as how it's understood by science. 

I've been thinking of myself as a cross-dresser. I met with a sex therapist, who told me unequivocally that I am not transsexual, and that I don't have gender dysphoria. I simply have a sexual fetish for making myself feminine, which is very common.

Some of you reading this might have a powerful negative reaction: this sounds suspiciously like autogynephilia, which has been emphatically discredited for years. I'm certainly trans, you'd say, and I'm being misled and prevented from becoming my true female self!

Well, I'm not here to argue one way or the other. The truth is, I don't know: am I truly a woman in a man's body? Am I in denial?

It's always been an extremely sexual thing for me. In all but the most private settings, I'm a man. There's nothing feminine about the way I present myself. My family and my career are built on a masculine identity. These are incredibly valuable to me. Over the years, I've come to think of my sexual inclination to be female as a benign delusion, which quickly dissipates when I fulfill it -- the "pink cloud" as it were. But there's no question that at times I intensely wish I were female. I ponder how I could make it real. The closest I've come is to wear women's clothes occasionally.

So basically, by the current conventional wisdom, I'm definitely trans. If I look deeper than my sexual fulfillment, I am indeed a woman. I've rationalized away my dysphoria. I should embrace my true feminine self, and come out as the woman I've always been, but have been afraid to let out.

This is highly appealing to me at one level, but unacceptable due to the risk on my family and career.

It occurred to me the other day that the conventional wisdom has a flaw, which many have pointed out: gender is a continuum, not a binary. It's highly complex. However, for anyone wanting to transition to womanhood, there's a requirement to present as a conventional representation of a woman. It's necessary to prove that you can live your life as what most people would consider a female public identity. But what if I don't want my feminine identity to be public? I do want to be female, but I also want my family and colleagues to continue to think of me as male. Why can't I be female in private, and present myself as male when I choose? Why is that not a valid option?

Basically, the ideal way forward for me would be to transition to female (complete with surgery, hormones, etc.), but in public, continue to show my male persona. Nobody in public needs to know what sort of genitals I have! If I ever do want to go out in public as a woman, I could do that, too, whenever I want. I'd certainly want to present as female at times.

So I guess this makes me a transsexual woman with a male public persona, or a transsexual transsexual.

Realistically, my wife and kids would strongly object to this, so it's not feasible. But someday, perhaps...

The important thing would be that I'd be physically female, regardless of my clothes and outward presentation. This idea is highly appealing to me, because it strikes me as much more achievable than transitioning and presenting as female all the time.

Why isn't this option more widely available and accepted? Don't force me to fit into your neat little box!

Lovely, Vivid Dream

I dreamed last night that I was whisked away to a place where it would be OK for me to be feminine, where there would be no adverse consequences at all. I was wearing a bikini under my clothes at the time, secretly, and I felt such relief at this new freedom. I specifically remember the bra being a sort of triangle top, but with wide straps. It was blue and green.

The first thing I did was shave. I distinctly remember spending a lot of time shaving my face and my legs, and thinking I'd have to go over my hairy chest, too. I was worried about irritating my skin. Then I put on makeup, and noticed in the mirror that my eyebrows needed plucking. Finally, I put on a leopard print dress and went to play bass in a Metallica cover band, and feeling absolutely marvelous. I saw myself from the crowd, and saw a flash of my panties as I bounced around in my short dress.

The dress had long sleeves, was short to about mid-thigh, and flared out at the hips, like this:

My hair was long and curly.

This was one of the most pleasant dreams I've ever had. Total wish fulfillment.

24 Hours En Femme: a Follow-Up

After I wrote about my day dressed as a woman, I took a long bath in the Jacuzzi tub. I played for a bit with my bathing suits, since I couldn't leave them out of the picture. I modeled each of them in the bathroom mirror, one after the other. It was such a tease, so different from my usual furtive sessions. I settled on the one-piece, which for whatever reason felt the most feminine to me. I tried to draw it out as long as possible, but I came pretty quickly, and very hard. While in the bath, planning my night's escapades, I had decided that I would taste my own jizz, as a way of succumbing to my desire for a feminine experience, so I slurped up some of it, even as the pink fog was lifting. It tasted gamy, not altogether bad, but overall quite gross. It's very hard to remain in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. Nonetheless, I was still excited about sleeping in panties and a nightie. I was fully committed to it.

I had washed some of my lingerie, and had it drying on my towel rack, and it was liberating having all my feminine stuff out in the open. I put on my nightie and panties, and got ready for bed. I had tossed my drab pajamas in the hamper already. As expected, I could hardly help myself from luxuriating in feelings of femininity and reckless abandon. I could take my time, enjoy the idea of remaining in my feminine attire all night, and probably repeat the experience, multiple times.

I eventually dozed off, sleeping uneasily with my tired arousal keeping me in a state of semi-sleep. At some point, the baby woke up crying. He had never seen me in such an outfit, and I had to think about whether to change or not. In the end, I thought it best to just remain in my nightie. I comforted him for a good 30 minutes, rocking him back to sleep while wearing panties and a satiny nightgown! I was a little bit uncomfortable about it. What if he somehow remembers someday? Did he even notice at all? Certainly he rested his head on my bare shoulder, which is usually covered in a t-shirt.

In the morning, I brought myself to climax yet again, and thoroughly exhausted my drive to dress like a woman all day. I had decided to return a couple of things to the store, because I have far too much girlie stuff now to easily conceal. So I ended up not keeping the sports leggings, which I had planned to wear that day. I put them on one last time, and loved how comfy and cozy and sexy they were, and questioned my decision. But in the end, I had to part with them before I ruined them.

I was done for the time being. I cleaned up after myself, the guilt and shame washing over me in anticipation of T__'s return. I was anxious about leaving some trace of my activities. In the end, everything was fine, and she remained oblivious. I was a bit disappointed in my lack of determination to see my plan through, but in the end I came only a couple of hours short. 

Thinking back on it now, I fondly remember pushing the stroller around the neighborhood with girl clothes just under the surface, partly visible, and wish I could do it again soon. I think I might even do it in women's leggings, in public, for all to see, because who even cares? I even put on the dress and tights and shoes last week again during a brief moment alone at home, and thoroughly loved it.

A Pleasant Dream

Last night, after a rare lovemaking session with my wife, during which I fantasized about being the woman, I drifted to sleep remembering my old fantasies about becoming a lesbian.

I dreamed about T__ dressing me up in a pink bralette and panties, in good humor. I think I even had on a blonde wig for a while. I was happy and relieved that she accepted me like this. I put on a t-shirt and pants over it so that others wouldn't know, and I asked T__ if my bra straps were visible. "Of course your bra straps are visible, everybody can see them, silly!" she answered, not at all bothered by it. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the wide, satiny straps on my shoulders, not even close to being concealed by the unusually wide neck of my t-shirt. In retrospect, I know that women's t-shirts are often cut that way, so I suppose I might have been wearing one of those. In the dream, however, the point was to cover up my feminine undergarments, but even still I wasn't much bothered that my bra straps showed, because T__ was on board. My mother was visiting, and I still didn't want her to know, so I did hide from her, but I wasn't stressed out about it. I think I realized that I couldn't prevent her from seeing me, so I just happily went about my business, bra straps exposed for all the world to see. Then I met a famous woman singer/songwriter who doesn't really exist, and fawned all over her, telling her what a huge fan I was of her music, and how much influence she had on me in my early adulthood. I was ever conscious of my femininity, and happy and free and proud of it, even as I chatted with this famous person.

It was a wonderful feeling, and I'm still bathing in its afterglow!

A Bizarre Dream

T__ embodies the spirit of my Muse. She's got confident and sexual. I see tattoos on her forearms, little symbols. She makes no effort to conceal them. She's even proud of them. They represent her conquests, she tells me, of the men she's dominated and fucked. She relishes that this is upsetting to me. She shows me that she has more on her inner thighs. These symbols are inspired by Julia's in The Magicians.

As she shows me this, I see that she has two sets of penis and balls, on each side of her pussy. They're a bit small, and flaccid. She laughs when she sees my shocked expression. She explains that some men she has dominated so much that she kept their penises. I'm facing by the one on the left side of her pelvis, and she has me suck it. I don't resist at all. I have wanted to suck cock, and I welcome the opportunity to experiment with it. However, I'm disappointed that is so small in my mouth, like a child's. I don't tell her this.

This erotic dream has haunted me all day. I have some improvements and embellishments that heighten the effect tremendously.

First, the dicks are not small. They're grafted into her, and fully potent. The one I'm interested in is actually mine. She humiliates me by having me suck my own dick, which belongs entirely to her now. I'm wearing a maid outfit, and I realize that she really does own it: it's no longer on my body, and I no longer feel any of its sensation. She also fucks me with it.

After humiliating me like this a few times she makes me suck and fuck her other dicks too. Think of the possibilities: sucking one cock and jerking off another, both attached to her otherwise ultra feminine body. She can absorb these penises back into her body at will, and make them appear whenever she likes, too. It's my job now to serve her, and watch her enslave other men, and steal their dicks. I am doomed to never feel what it's like to own one ever again. And she never gives me the satisfaction of touching her female parts anymore, either.

24 hours En Femme

My wife is on a trip this weekend with the older kid. I'm at home taking care of the baby. I thought this would be an ideal time to spend as femininely as possible! The baby wouldn't know the difference.

My plan had been to head over to Target after dropping off my beloved family at the airport. There I would find some casual leggings and a sports bra that I could wear throughout the day. I had toyed with the idea of wearing a dress, but I worried that the baby might be a little confused by it. I could, however, wait until he went to sleep, then cavort around in a dress and heels to my girlish little heart's content!

That's exactly what I ended up doing. Since my last store excursion, which was almost disastrous in how anxious I felt, and how much time I spent staring at bathing suits trying not to look creepy, I learned not to give any fucks. Somehow, having the baby with me in a shopping cart made it all so much easier.

I took a bit of time choosing my sports leggings. It was hard to find exactly what I was looking for. I struggle to explain it now, but I wanted something sleek and feminine, with sheer parts and/or a floral pattern. I wasn't sure if I wanted capris or full pants. I was hoping for something with straps on the calves. I also didn't want anything too obviously feminine, to avoid giving the baby something to remember. Black is best, but I wanted some zing, something bright, or at least something not too plain. I found a few with a floral pattern, but there were none in my size. I grabbed something light blue and gray, capris, and figured that would be good enough.

The sports bra was quick and easy. I wanted something strappy, and I found one with thin double criss-crossed straps. I was tempted to get one with a zipper in front, but the straps got the better of me.

Last week, I had seen some velvety little dresses on a rack near the front of the store. That's what had gotten me thinking about getting one. It looked perfect from what I could tell at a glance. Now that I was in the store, looking at it, my dream came true. This rack was right in the front of the store, on a busy walkway. People definitely saw me looking at dresses, and putting one in my cart. I didn't care!
I nearly left at that point, but I couldn't just wear a dress without tights! I went looking for the hosiery, but it wasn't with the intimates. None of the panties got my attention, but I did consider getting a shaping girdle. I finally found the hosiery. I was going to get plain black tights, but I was presented with such a glorious variety that I spent more time looking at my options.

Lo and behold, among the tights and pantyhose, were leggings! I found some that looked like they had sheer windows below the knees, and snagged them. I also found sweater tights to go with my dress. My mission was complete.

I headed home, and immediately put the baby down in his play pen, so I could go change. I had brought in my stash of girlie stuff, and laid it all out on the bed. I put on my trusty black panties, and squeezed into my new sports bra. It was a little tight getting it on, but it was comfy. Then I tried on the leggings.

The leggings are black polyester and spandex, with interesting panels of different textures. I've seen women wearing similar leggings, and have longed to wear some myself. They're nice and tight, and very comfortable. I wasn't sure whether I should keep the sports capris, but I figured I'd try them on anyway. They're more comfortable than the leggings, by far, but somehow less appealing. It's so hard to choose! I think I want them both! I figure I'll wear the capris tomorrow, since I have most of the day until I pick up my wife and kid from the airport.

I spent the day with my baby, wearing a boring old t-shirt over my sports bra, but otherwise going about my day, only dressed in women's clothes (except for the t-shirt). I wasn't brave enough to go out like this, unfortunately. I decided to put some pants on over my leggings to take the baby out for a stroll. I found myself swinging my hips as I went. I worried a little that my bra was visible under my shirt. I also knew that nobody would notice, even if it were. I passed by several neighbors, and nobody seemed to notice anything at all. If they did, it wasn't apparent. In any case, I was too comfortable to care!

I put the baby to bed for the night, and changed into my lovely velvety dress, with my sweater tights and ridiculous glittery wedges. I've been hanging around the house, doing laundry, with this outfit on. I went outside a couple of times in it to take out some trash. I don't care if anyone sees me! In fact, I almost want the world to see me like this, because I feel so comfortable!

I've had a serene experience so far. The plan is to sleep in my pink nightie, then wake up and put on my sports bra and capris, and spend most of the day en femme again. By noon, I will have spent 24 hours dressed in women's clothes. This is something I've fantasized about for years! And finally, I've been able to do it!

Getting My Fill

By the time I ended my business trip, I had lost all enthusiasm for wearing my nightie overnight. But, since I hadn't brought any of my male pajamas, I had no choice. I was stressing out about having nail polish on my toes, and the effort I would need to remove it in the morning. I was experiencing a girlie hangover.

I found myself hideous in my girl stuff. I couldn't stand the sight of myself. I'm so hairy and pudgy in all the wrong places that I would recoil at the touch of my own body. It wasn't so much a dysphoria as a realization that my body in women's clothes is grotesque. I'm fine with being masculine, and the feminine clothes only made me feel ridiculous and gross.

Of course that didn't cure me of my fetish. One thing that kept nagging at me was a latent desire to wear a bathing suit, which I neglected to bring on my trip. Within a couple of days of arriving home, I put on a one-piece and made myself feel better. Ever since, I've been on a back-to-basics kick centered on swimwear. This culminated a couple of days ago in wearing my most special bikini, and I've been dying for more ever since.

So what the hell happened?

I think this confirms the sad fact that I don't have gender dysphoria. I only wish! I'm perfectly at ease as a man, and if anything I'm uncomfortable about presenting as a woman. I have a long way to go to be even remotely passable as a woman. I haven't even actually ever really tried. All I ever do is fantasize about it, and wank about it, and indulge in a bit of crossdressing. I think if I ever did try to transition, I would have an incredibly difficult time of it.

I've been getting heavily excited about transition before-and-after photos. I'm so envious of the people who have done it, and it fuels my fantasies. I let myself daydream about becoming a woman. I know that people who do actually have gender dysphoria have to live with an incredibly difficult burden. It's horribly shallow of me to wish I suffered from their affliction. It would give me a good reason for developing my fetish, and a goal to aim for. Instead, I have these delightful fantasies whose fulfillment would most likely make me deeply unhappy, and ironically grant me the gender dysphoria I currently and so callously envy, only in the wrong direction.

Dodging Another Bullet

As I explained in my last post, I'm away on business, so I packed myself some fun pajamas. At first, I had packed drab pajamas, and had hidden my girlie items as well as I could in side pockets. But after spending half the day anticipating it, and fantasizing about being bold about it, I removed my normal boy pajamas, and re-packed my nightie and panties along with my regular underwear. Excited, I then added one of my teddies. 

I arrived last night, painted my toenails, and slept in my nightie, as planned. It was a pleasant night's sleep. I dreamed of being caught with nail polish, and struggling to remove it, and woke up horny a couple of times. I woke up and went about my day.

I spoke to my wife on the phone in the evening, and she asked if I had found her surprise for me in my bag. I immediately jumped to wish fulfillment fantasies of her being supportive of my fetish, and sneaking in some of her own panties or something, but I knew that this was highly unlikely to the point of absurdity. 

It turns out she put a Valentine's day card in my bag! She snuck it in when I wasn't looking. She tucked it under my pants. Somehow, she narrowly missed my secret girlie stash! I almost got caught again!

That would have been a painful episode indeed.

I'm now wearing nail polish on my fingers, and sleeping in my teddy. 

Escalation and Elevation

When I was young and I had my stash hidden under my bed so I could indulge in my fantasies at night, I had a fear of taking them too far. I was very careful to slip into something feminine in my bed, under my covers, bedroom door closed, certain that everyone else in the house was asleep. I was terrified of getting caught. I had convinced myself that one of the greatest and most thrilling dangers would be to fall asleep in whatever I had worn, and wake up in it. Sleeping in something feminine became a cute fantasy of its own: where I normally only wore girlie stuff for brief moments, this would be over a much longer span of time; and the damage to my manhood would surely be much more severe. If only I could dare!

I finally went through with it once a few years ago. I had finally reached a milestone: sleeping all night in women's clothes. Such opportunities are rare indeed, so I've never done it again.

After I got caught, my thinking around this no-longer-secret fantasy changed. It's so much fun to wear women's clothes, but the real thrill is in feeling feminine. I often found that I didn't need to wear anything feminine to scratch my itch. It certainly helps, but my guilt led me to do it much less. I started to get off much more on the fantasy of becoming female, and not only wearing women's clothes, but doing all the things women do to accentuate their beauty. I especially started to appreciate painted nails, particularly in cold colors like blue, and most of all sparkles of all kinds. I found myself getting very turned on by women's nails! I had never paid them much attention before. Of course, that means I want to wear nail polish now.

I was watching a "girl for a day" type of video, and a boy became outrageously pretty as a woman. What really put me over the edge was the manicure. It's great to have put on some lingerie and a revealing outfit, and done up your hair and makeup. But if you've done your nails, too, you've really gone all the way!

All this to set up my current adventure: I'm travelling for work, so I get some time to sleep alone for a few nights. When I re-built my stash, I bought myself a nightie specifically so I could fantasize about having something feminine to sleep in if ever the opportunity came up. I snuck it into my suitcase, along with panties and my black teddy, with the intention of sleeping en femme for the duration of the trip. I had initially packed my usual boy pajamas, but feeling bold, I took them back out. I have no choice: my only sleepware for this trip is feminine!

And the icing on the cake: I found a drugstore near my hotel, so I got myself some nail polish. I already put it on my toes, where it will remain until the last day of my trip. I'm also experimenting with it on my fingers, but I still want to avoid detection, so I'm being careful.

I feel so liberated, and so excited!

Wardrobe Malfunctions

The pumps I had ordered never arrived. First, I got a shipment of ugly pendant earrings as a consolation, with a note indicating that the Chinese shoe factory had to close for a while due to summer heat, and that they'd send the shoes as soon as possible. Why this was at all necessary, I'll never know. Eventually, a package arrived, but it wasn't what I had ordered. Instead I got some white knee-high boots, size 8--much too small for my gargantuan feet. I got my money back, but the whole ordeal wasted a couple of months of my time. It's the second time I've ordered glittery pumps, and the second time the order (and the wish) didn't get fulfilled. Never again.

The teddy turned out to be extraordinarily fun. The thrill I get from one-piece swimsuits gets amplified tenfold with a teddy! Somehow it feels like it fits better than any panties I've ever worn. It caresses my hips and naughty parts in a way that makes me feel more feminine than anything else in my stash. I tend to wear this most. The size M fits better, and it's black which unexpectedly gives me a bigger thrill than the size S, which is pink. Go figure.

The blue bathing suit was a bit disappointing. It's nice, but somehow the lining doesn't seem to stick to the outer shell, and it doesn't seem tight enough. I don't think size M is right for me for bathing suits, as they're not tight enough on the hips. Or rather, my hips aren't wide enough.

I'm planning to order pumps from someone more reputable. Maybe my troubles are a sign that it's not meant to be?

Building Up My Stash Again

I went nuts and bought a bunch of girl stuff again. I felt like I really need some shoes, so that was at the top of my shopping list. I ended up buying two pairs: wedge sandals and pumps, both glittery, along with a pair of teddies, back-seam stockings, and two more one-piece swimsuits.

The swimsuits are to replace my previous swimsuit purchases. I've struggled to get the right size. Too many t
imes, I've ordered something far too small, and struggled to get into it. Last time, I ordered size L, but ended up disappointed in the looseness of the fit. Bikinis are much easier, because the main problem with one-piece suits is the torso length. With the larger sizes, the hips end up not being nearly tight enough. This time, I ordered medium. I received one of them already, and it fits pretty well. It's just a bit too short, torso-wise, but the hips fit much better. We'll see how the other one fits when it gets here in September.

The teddies are something I've been thinking about for many years. I had "borrowed" one from a girlfriend many, many years ago, and it was exquisite, but I had almost no access to it. I think I wore it maybe once or twice. I ordered two, again because of concerns about the size: one S, one M. The S fits nicely, so I haven't bothered with the M, and will probably just return it.

As for the shoes, ever since my wife found my stash, discovered my secret, and forced me to purge, I've really missed wearing heels. Something about wearing women's high heels puts my fantasies over the edge. Usually, the focus is on my erogenous zones, but in this case, they're so unnecessary and so gratuitously feminine that somehow they become the best part. I especially like shoes with ankle straps, because they feed a sort of forced feminization fantasy. I've never had access to pumps that fit me. These new ones, when they arrive, will be a new experience. The wedges sprinkle glitter all over the place, so I have to be very careful with them.

The shoes also take up a lot of space, and I'm not sure where to hide them. I'll have to think about it before the pumps arrive, because my current hiding space is just about full.

Fresh as a...

...Daisy.

That's my name, as of a couple days ago.

For thirty years, I've thought of myself as a guy who likes wearing women's clothes. Having a feminine name never felt useful or necessary. I thought about it from time to time, but no particular name ever felt right. As much as I fantasized about becoming a woman, having a proper girl name was somehow inconceivable. I called myself Swim Tran online, to describe my interests, but without any pretense of being feminine.

Ever since my wife discovered my secret, I've had to curb my cross-dressing habit. Even before then, I had started realizing that the thrill has become more about becoming a woman than merely wearing women's clothes. While bikinis and lingerie and heels certainly help me feel more feminine, they're more an accessory to the fantasy than the goal of it.

With my fantasy time greatly reduced, but with the worst of my secret now out, I have felt much more free to embrace my feminine tendencies. I'm not hiding my interests like I used to. I'm posting on cross-dressing forums, while I used to avoid them for fear of discovery. This has brought on a level of introspection that I've somehow missed all these years.

All the other sissies online have girl names. Why don't I? Up until a few weeks ago, I was happy being a guy in a bikini, and nothing more. Or so I thought. I was convinced that because I hadn't found a feminine name for myself, it simply wasn't that important to me. I reflected on names I had considered before, and again found them somehow a poor fit.

Angelique. Bethany. Isabelle. Lovely names, each, but not for me.

Rebecca. Robyn. Bobbie. All based on my own name, but not for me.

Bronwyn? Siobhan? Isolde? I'm not Irish. Cute, exotic, but not for me.

Nora. Anna. Emma. Ella. Bella. Fiona. Tina. Not for me. Nothing for me.

Some ridiculous names that are hideously unfashionable: Bertha. Matilda. Mildred. Not for me.

I kept going back to my own heritage, and my strategy for naming my own children. I like having an element of French, but having it work in English as well. What would my mom have named me had I been a girl? She told me once: Melissa, I think. What does it say about it that I don't even remember for sure? Not for me.

Girls from my school days: Chantal (ugh, never liked that one.) Karine. Constance. Kimberly. Natalie. Not for me.

Girls I had crushes on our dated: Jean-Marie. Vanessa. Kim. Brigitte. Nikki. Not for me.

Some classic names: Catherine, Katie, Kitty, Cathy. Elizabeth, Beth, Lizzie. Victoria. Hmmm, I pondered that one for a while. Valerie. I considered that for months. But in the end, not for me.

Nothing stuck. It just felt like I was picking at random. Even though I like a lot of these names, I just can't attach them to myself. They're somehow not meaningful enough. Which is weird because I didn't choose my given name, and it has no special meaning to my parents, so why should I expect anything different from my girl name?

On the drive to work the other day, I thought of Marguerite. It's good: French, works in English as Margaret, kind of, but even better is the translated English version oh my god DAISY!

Instantly, somehow, my mind opened up like a blooming flower. I AM DAISY! I always have been! Suddenly, I could discern my taste in feminine clothes as having a coherence to it that could only come from a girl named Daisy. It evokes everything that my feminine soul aspires to. It's simple and pretty. It's unequivocally feminine. It's somewhat uncommon, yet completely unpretentious. It's sexy, in a girl-next-door kind of way, and sweet, and charming.

Daisy!

I'm updating my online presence now with my newly discovered name. It's liberating! I'm not just a guy who wears women's swimsuits anymore. I'm a woman called Daisy, and I like certain styles of clothes, certain styles of art, music...

It's like my feminine self has finally broken free from the prison I've kept her in all my life. She has always been part of me. At last, I acknowledge her, by name: her name is Daisy.

MY name is DAISY!

Busted

It's been very quiet around here for a long time now. But, I've continued to dress up mostly in swimwear. I got into a naughty habit for a while earlier this year, which I'll describe some other time. The usual routine of indulging in some femininity while my family is out of the house continued happily, until a couple of weeks ago.

My wife found my stash.

Or rather, I had absent-mindedly left it out, in plain sight, and went to work for the day. She texted me asking what it was, and I knew I was sunk. I felt physically ill. I considered coming up with some crazy explanation, but ultimately, I knew I had to tell her the truth, as painful as that would be.

So when I came home, I sat her down, and told her that the bathing suits, lingerie, and shoes in the bag she had found are mine. And that I wear them. Because I like it.

She was horrified. She felt like I had betrayed her. It's a huge lie, that I've concealed this from her for over ten years. In fact we just came home from a 10th anniversary trip when this happened. She suddenly felt uncomfortable in my presence. She didn't trust me with our son.

We spent the next several evenings talking about my secret. I told her almost everything. She's mostly concerned that I'm gay, and I assured her that I'm not. I'm actually quite confident that I'm not, in spite of all of this. She made me throw away my stash, while still feeling bad about it. She's very conflicted about it. She wants me to stop doing it altogether. I told her I would, and I'll really try, but I also told her that it's not really possible to stop. For now, I'm more than willing to at least pause so she can process it.

After we talked, each evening, we made love. We have always been very close and intimate and in love. Except for this, we've had a very open and honest relationship. In some ways, it's brought us closer together. She feels like she needs to fuck more to break this habit from me. She doesn't understand that it just doesn't work that way. The sex has tapered off a bit the last few days, but I've been constantly horny every since she found out. I'm thinking about wearing women's clothes non-stop.

She asked me not to wear her things. I promised her I won't. I really will try not to, as much as I'd love to. It's especially hard that I don't have my own things anymore. She sort of understands that I need to do it sometimes, but she really doesn't want me to.

When I told her that my habit was to wear things while she's out of the house, at first she felt reluctant to leave me alone, for fear that I'd do it again. I'm alone now, and I'm sure it's crossed her mind. It's like a test. I want to tell her that I desperately want to order some things for myself: a swimsuit, some panties, a bra, and even some shoes. I'm taking a business trip this week anyway, and I don't know how I'll handle being alone in a hotel room with nothing feminine to wear. It would have been a perfect opportunity, but now I'd have to buy something first.

She's not at all interested in ever participating in this with me. She wants a manly man, and this utterly turns her off. I still hold out hope that she'll come around. It's too soon now, though. The alternative is that I continue to do it in secret, and she may be OK with that. She'd rather not even know.

Meanwhile, I have felt somehow more free since she found out. It's a relief that I no longer have to bear this secret anymore. I fantasize now that eventually she'll accept this, and I can openly keep some feminine things in my dresser. I'm already toying with ordering some things. But I need to be patient.

She doesn't know about this blog yet. She doesn't know the full depths of my fantasy. I did explain to her that it's all about becoming a woman. She doesn't understand it at all. But she still loves me. She says so, and her actions prove it. This does put some doubt in her mind. I'm doing what I can to convince her that I love her still, that I'm the same person she married. But from her point of view, because she never knew this side of me, and it's not something she ever wanted or expected, she feels like she didn't truly know me. So I'm not at all who she thought I was.

Boyshorts

I bought these a while back, and wore them all day at work under my boy clothes. I figured they're boyshorts, and they're blue, so they don't really count as women's panties, right?

Contemplating a New Swimsuit

My zip-up scuba one-piece

I currently own at least five swimsuits. Four of them are bikinis, and the fifth is a one-piece that zips up in the front. I tend to gravitate to two of the bikinis when I'm in the mood for some femininity, but I've got a soft spot for one-pieces in general, going back to my earliest dalliances in women's clothing.

A lost favorite. (sigh)

Over the years, I've usually had a go-to one-piece swimsuit that I'd wear about as often as my favorite bikinis. For some reason, there's always room for one in my fantasies. Long ago, in my formative years, I had a mind-blowing epiphany upon wearing a one-piece swimsuit, and the memory of it has stuck with me. In early adulthood, when I finally embraced my fetish, I celebrated by wearing a one-piece swimsuit.

Sexy Grommets

Unfortunately, now that I've fooled around with bikinis and lingerie and sexy shoes, one-piece swimsuits often disappoint me. Often, I'll fantasize about one and put it on, but while I'm wearing it I'll inevitably imagine a bikini, and the fantasy will turn to that instead. The one I have now is just not doing it for me, and it never did the way I'd imagined it would when I bought it. Others I've had have not had this problem. I could go back to them over and over again, and rarely slip into a fantasy about something else. It's hard to pin down exactly what it is that makes some of them more fun than others, but I suppose that's true of just about any category of garment I like to play with.

Metallic and Pink...

Therefore, I'm pining for a new one-piece that can fill that hole in my closet.

Not actually a swimsuit

At this point in time, with my limited opportunities to enjoy womanhood first-hand, it strikes me as foolish to do this. At best, I'll only get to wear it once a week, and that's likely to be pre-empted by a bikini or lingerie a lot of the time. So I don't want to spend much money on it, especially if I don't end up liking it. My wife doesn't own one, and even if she did, it's nearly impossible to borrow such things without leaving tell-tale stains.

Loving the ruffles

Looks like fun

Still, part of the fun of this fetish is trawling swimsuit vendors' websites and fantasizing about wearing the ones that catch my eye. I'm partial to blue and pink, and metallic, and unusual cutouts. What I love about one-piece suits is that they're ostensibly not as overtly sexy as bikinis and underwear, but they're still quintessentially feminine. There's no mistaking it for anything a man could ever wear. I used to fantasize that the tight fabric would shape my body into a woman's hourglass figure. With the style these days being quite different, many attractive one-piece suits no longer even cover the waist, but that makes them in many ways even sexier.

Cute cut-outs

It's always hard shopping online for such things, because it's hard to find the right fit. I struggled with the fit of my yellow zip-up one-piece, and actually had to return it for one that fit better. Even in person, I've bought one-piece suits that were far too small. The tightness of a small swimsuit can be fun, but there's a limit where it's just impossible to even put it on. So I might even dare to buy it in person to be sure that it's something I'll enjoy. Or maybe I'll get more than one, and hopefully at least one of them will work out.

Even if it doesn't, I'm such a sissy, buying women's swimsuits for myself!

The Essence of the Feminization Fantasy

At its root, this feminization fantasy is a confusion of cause and effect. As rational adults, we all know that wearing feminine clothes does not cause one to become female. And yet, that's precisely the core of the fantasy. The very fact that there is a strong social stigma against men wearing women's clothes suggests that it's true. Even if it is impossible, everyone just knows that wearing women's clothes irreversibly feminizes men.

It's a feedback loop: once you begin, no matter how innocently, you start to spin uncontrollably towards becoming a woman. All it takes is a small taste to get started.

At first you're afraid of the consequences. You know that it's physically and physiologically impossible to become a woman by wearing women's clothes. Still, you proceed with caution. Nobody can find out about it. You start slow, just in case. You know for sure that some things you'd never, ever dare to do, because that would be going too far. But what's the harm in imagining it?

Pretty soon, you find yourself compelled to do that last thing you fantasized about, and the boundary becomes something else. Then the new taboo becomes key to the fantasy, and soon after, reality. By the time you realize that you're in a tailspin, it's much too late. You realize that the only thing that turns you on is becoming feminine. You try to turn back to more normal tastes, dial down the femininity a bit, maybe purge your sissy wardrobe in shame. Inevitably, you come back to it, stronger than ever, boundaries be damned.

Now you know you want to be a woman. The idea paradoxically gives you a massive erection. You dream of sucking cock, getting fucked in the ass, and dressing like a slut at all times. As you consider transitioning and fulfilling your dream, you look back and wonder: didn't you always want to be a woman? Weren't all of those experiments over the years just your repressed femininity struggling to come to the surface? Or was it your dressing up that developed your femininity over time?

So while it is true that wearing women's clothes won't make a man physically become a woman, it certainly does affect him psychologically.

Why Wear Panties?

My Wife's New Nightie

It's been difficult lately to find the time to feed my femininity. My wife and I had a romantic weekend at a hotel, and I had bought her a new nightie for the occasion, but unfortunately, she was on her period. I still got to have some fun rubbing up against her while imagining myself in her outfit.


In the following days, I struggled a bit with some pent-up arousal. One night, just after turning in for the night, I remembered that there was a load of laundry spinning in the dryer which needed to be taken out, lest it get all wrinkled. My wife was already asleep, and I was somewhat restless, so I went to take care of it. The dryer was still running when I got to it, with only a few minutes to go. I didn't want to go back to bed for the short time that was left on the timer, and I didn't want to just stand there, either. What could I possibly occupy myself with?

I suppose I could have just stopped the dryer, and the clothes would already have been dry. Instead, I snuck over to my stash, slipped out of my pajama pants, and put on the panties of my favorite bikini.

As I luxuriated in the glorious girlishness of my panties, I remembered a notion I had not long ago about keeping a pair of panties in my work bag so I could wear them at the office. Since I was already fiddling with my stash, and T__ was asleep, this seemed like a perfect opportunity to smuggle out my favorite satin panties. The dryer stopped, and I sadly slipped off the bikini, and returned it to its hiding place. I emptied the dryer, and trudged back to bed, but not before hiding the satin panties in my work bag.

My Satin Panties

The next day, as soon as I got to the office, I rushed to the men's room and discreetly changed into my satin panties. They felt wonderfully soft and tight around my tush every time I moved or got up for some coffee. But as the day wore on, I knew that I wouldn't get any reasonable opportunity to cum. Sadly, I changed back out of my panties in the afternoon, and my arousal went unfulfilled.

Amazing Panties by Axami

That was a couple of days ago. Today I had a bit of time to catch up. I didn't get to wear anything, unfortunately, but I did get to cum. I came fantasizing about wearing panties, and a bustier, and stockings, and lovely high heels. Inside my panties I had a soft, delicate, wet and slippery pussy, just aching to have a hard cock thrust into it.

That's the basis of my fantasies: imagining that I have a vagina. The rest, including the clothes, is secondary, but it helps the fantasy along. It makes me think that wearing enough bikinis and lingerie will eventually turn me into a woman. It hasn't happened yet, but it certainly has made me more feminine. That's what turns me on about shemale porn starlets and convincing crossdressers: it's possible to achieve womanhood with enough practice.

Interactivity Thwarted, Again

A few nights ago, my wife and I were watching TV when Lauren Conrad's joke about her favorite position being "CEO." It totally went over T__'s head, and I pretended that I knew exactly what it was and that I'd show her forthwith. We eventually ended up in the bedroom, where I directed her to put on a form-fitting black nightie and a pair of sexy 3-inch heels. She was already wearing my favorite panties, which are black microfiber with lace accents in strategic places.
we heard about

She rarely dresses up like this for our lovemaking anymore, for various reasons. I only remember her wearing shoes in the bedroom once before, several years ago, and then only for a very brief moment. She knows I love it when she wears lingerie, but it makes her self-conscious, so she only does it on special occasions.

Because of the name of the "position" and my presumed knowledge of what it entails, there was a slight subtext of a domination, although I left it entirely ambiguous as to who would be on top, as it were. She asked if my telling her what to do made me the CEO, or whether her wearing fancy shoes made her the CEO.

As she stood by the bed all dolled up, I couldn't help but think of the times I'd worn those panties and that nightie (the shoes in question unfortunately are far too small for my feet.) As I pulled her down on top of me, she kicked off her shoes, and I soon stripped off her lingerie and took her missionary style, the way she likes it best.

As I fucked her, she asked when she would get to be CEO. "You mean you want me to wear the nightie and the fancy shoes?" I replied, as if I were joking and not praying that she'd go along with it.

"No!" she protested, appalled, "I want to wear the nightie!"

Thus, I will continue to wear lingerie -- hers and my own -- in secret, for the foreseeable future.

Gurls I Admire

I've been longing for some feminine action lately, to the point where I'm contemplating wearing panties at the office under my man-clothes. I ran a quick errand today with my off-white satin panties, and it just feels so much more comfortable! I put on the matching bra when I came home, and felt what I can only describe as relief at feeling the soft fabric against my chest.

Kyoko Matsushita

Of course, I've been looking at my favorites as usual. Some gurls out there deserve recognition for what they've accomplished. They are an inspiration to me, and I envy them deeply.

First and foremost, there's Kyoko Matsushita. She mostly wears swimsuits and pantyhose, and she is absolutely gorgeous. She manages to look like a real woman every time. Her body is slim and curvaceous, and her pictures tickle my swimsuit fetish. She also wears all kinds of form-fitting dresses and lingerie.

Amazingly, she does this in secret. She lives as a man the vast majority of the time.

This makes me fantasize about how practice makes perfect: she's worn girl stuff so many times, and so many different outfits (surely hundreds!) that she practically looks like a woman now. I love the idea that wearing women's clothes will gradually turn a man into a woman. He may think it's harmless at first, that it's OK to get a thrill from it now and then, but that every time he does it, it makes him that much more feminine, until he starts looking like Kyoko Matsushita, and can no longer hide how feminine he's become.

Goodbye to an Old Favorite

Every now and then, my wife picks through her closet for stuff she doesn't wear anymore, and donates it. The latest batch included a pair of wedge sandals that I probably wore as much as she did.

They were my first pair of heels. They were too small for me, but because of their shape and suppleness, I was just barely able to wrap the straps around my ankles and reach the very last buckle-hole. Wearing them was uncomfortable, but a constant reminder that I was wearing something outrageously feminine.

I wore them one last time before letting them go, along with a gorgeous bikini of hers that I also used to borrow often, and which she is thankfully keeping, for the time being, even though she hasn't touched it since long before she gave birth. I fantasized about being forced to wear that outfit to a swimming pool, and being unable to deny how much I love it.

Farewell, old friend! You will be missed.

What Am I Wasting My Time On?

I typically have no more than one day per week to indulge in my fantasies. I can't read sissy blogs or look at pictures of transsexuals when I'm at the office, and when I come home I have to do family stuff. That leaves the one day I work from home: I close the door to my home office, and while my wife runs errands with our toddler, thinking I'm hard at work, I can't help but secretly feed my fetish.

Ideally, if I had ample free time alone as I did when I was single, or if my wife knew and approved of my predilections, I'd be more able to get some writing done. Instead, I have to rush through my favorite sites to find something to wank to, and get it over with quickly before she comes home. I spend the rest of the day going back and forth between actual work and these idle fantasies.

So what exactly do I wank to?

As with most crossdressers, I am keenly interested in beautiful women. I've read about sex addicts who need to see something extreme before they can even come close to climax. I'm the opposite: I can wank to just about any picture if it's of a pretty enough woman. It's what goes on in my head that makes me come.

For example, this is what I jerked to today:

I found this by accident while price-checking some beauty product my wife asked for for Xmas. I've been obsessing over her most of the week. What makes her so unbearably hot is the notion that I could buy that dress, and those boots, and I could become that feminine.

I don't spend as much time as I used to window-shopping lingerie and swimsuits online. I've made all kinds of goo contemplating and even actually purchasing and wearing such things. In the last couple of years, I've found myself drawn to pictures of convincing crossdressers and transsexuals, and of genetic girls given photoshop penises. This all used to repulse me, but now it fills me with admiration, envy, and hope: how incredibly lucky they are to have become feminine! How I wish that could be me!