Saturday, March 10, 2018

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.

Monday, February 12, 2018

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. 

Sunday, February 11, 2018

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!

Sunday, December 03, 2017

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?

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

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.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Fresh as a...


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.


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!

Saturday, October 08, 2016


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.