Diary: Over-Analysis Matrix

I have another little insight to add about my loose structuralisation of transsexual fantasies.  It's very simple, but at the same time completely essential.  I can't believe I missed it.

There's several paragraphs just outlining the possibilities of my little fantasy up there.  There are many things which I didn't even consider at all.  I just made assumptions.  I could probably write hundreds of pages analysing each possible case.  But there is one thing which I somehow managed to overlook: the crucial moment in each of these cases, bar none, is the very first moment when the specimen is exposed to women's underwear.  That has to be the key.  So let's go through this again, not so much for clarification as for the cheap thrill it gives me:

These, first of all, are the possibilites I had up there:

1. have never even imagined wearing girls' clothes, much less done it.
2. have never worn women's clothes, but have guiltily and secretly fantasized about it on occasion.
3. have guiltily worn women's clothes on a bet, or as a quick little experiment, but never gone through with the full experience of wearing it for complete sexual gratification
4. have guiltily worn women's clothing secretly and ashamedly, for sexual gratification
5. have shamelessly worn girls' clothes for sexual fun in secret.
6. be a totally unashamed transvestite.

and these are the possible reactions:

1. I furiously refuse all attempts to get me to put them on, cajoling included.
2. I at first refuse, but after some cajoling agree to put them on
3. I put them on right away, no questions asked.

Now, consider them one by one.

Firstly, I have never even thought about wearing girls' underwear, much less done it.  Therefore, all of the possibilities for reactions are wide open.  How does the suggestion register in my mind?  Is it appealing, revolting, neither, or both?  I could certainly understanding it being both in most cases.  Perhaps some would truly find it revolting, although I can't understand why.  Perhaps some would find it truly appealing, but, even though I am one of those, I can't understand why.  The male ego would always kick in and resist, but there's always that feminine side which just needs to come out.  But once the idea has been presented, I can't see anyone really being indifferent.  But even so, the very suggestion has changed everything.  Before the actual act can even take place, it has to be imagined, or at least considered somehow.  Before this moment, the idea had never even occurred to the specimen; therefore, the specimen is already at 2) without even having done anything.

But that last sentence is a fallacy.  It is indeed possible that the specimen be completely indifferent to the prospect, and only converted to thinking about it sexually and obsessively after the initial contact with girls' clothing.  Look at me: I remember the circumstances of my first brush with femininity.  I must have been five years old.  It was in Kindergarten, and it was for the annual school show.  All of the Kindergarten kids were made to look like flowers.  This required all of us, boys included, to wear white tights.  So the suggestion of wearing girls' clothes came from outside, somehow.  I wonder if it always happens this way.  I was still very young, but I had already discovered masturbation, and fixated on girls when I did, although I had no idea why.  Anyway, I was there when Mom went to a store and asked if it was okay to buy tights and return them, because I was only going to wear them once.  It was, I think, Okay.  I was aware that I would be wearing girls' clothes, but I had no huge reaction to it.  I just knew that girls wore a certain type of clothes, and boys wore another.  The sexual idea had never crossed my mind.  When I discovered how it felt to wear those white tights, though, I became converted.  I had already learned to be secretive about my masturbating.  So I asked Mom and Dad if I could sleep with the tights on, instead of pyjamas.  They said no, of course, and put my tights back in my dresser.  I lay in bed a long time that night, imagining how wonderful it would feel to wear them again and masturbate.  I didn't but I sure wanted to.  After that, I don't know when I first dared to "borrow" pantihose, but it had dwelt on my mind ever since that night.  And I remember that all the boys in the class wore white tights.  We were all dressed like girls.  Funny, isn't it?

All that to say that it is possible to feel complete indifference to transvestism until the moment of contact.
So just think of specimen 1, who hasn't ever thought of dressing up in girls' underwear before.  The poor sucker would have no idea what he's getting into.  If he staunchly refuses, it's because the idea repulses him at first as an insult to his masculinity.  If he's indifferent about it, and gets talked into it, it's because he's confident enough in his masculinity to not really care that he's wearing girls' underwear.  If he slinks right into it, it can either be because he has rapidly jumped to 2, as the idea greatly and immediately appeals to him, or he does it out of open defiance of expectations of his masculinity, always confident that it will remain unscathed.  Or he could do it out of sheer curiosity, just to see what it's like, in which case, he falls more into this latter, or into case 2.

So case 2 has imagined wearing girls' panties before.  Even if the thoughts revolted him, he probably thought about it in sexual terms.  What would it do to my masculinity, he would think?  This is a stage that I can only sort of relate to.  I had worn women's clothes first, before I longed for them.  This one has never worn them.  So he doesn't know what it's like.  He can only guess.

So what does he guess?  He has none of the experience.  He probably would have an innate fear that doing it would instantly compromise his masculinity.  That fear, as discussed so many times before, would likely turn to intense curiosity.  The only thing I can think of that I can relate to is homosexuality: I have never experienced it, but I have fantasized about it on occasion.  The idea of sucking dick, or getting fucked up the ass, often creeps into my femininization sessions.  On this level, even, I am ashamed to admit it, ashamed to recognize the possibility.  But it turns me on nonetheless.  If given the chance, though, I would probably never do it.  It doesn't appeal to me enough.  Wearing girls' clothes, however, does.  So the question is, what would I do in a situation where I could have homosexual sex?  In exactly the same terms: a fag has me captured, just like in my other fantasy, and asks me at first to bend over, or to suck his dick.  I really think that I would refuse.  In which case he would rape me anyway.  A part of me wants to say that I would jump at the chance, just out of curiosity.  It does appeal to me that way.  Who knows? I figure, I might really enjoy it.  It might be the ultimate sexual experience of my life.  Why not try it?  All this, I guess, would go through case 2's mind.  

And then there's case 3.  This one would have worn girls' clothes before, but never have had the total experience.  He would be just like I was after having worn the white tights in Kindergarten: longing for women's clothing, but never daring to do it, for the sheer fear of it.  But I'm sure that before I dared to wear girls' clothes again, I fantasized about it, and only about it.  I didn't fantasize about fucking at all: I always imagined that I was being captured by the beautiful girls, and taken away to a place where I would have to become like them.  I would have to wear their clothes.  At first, of course, I would resist, but then I would discover the intense pleasure of it all.  So here's case 3, given an opportunity to act out his secret wish.  What would he do?  This is the ultimate moment, I think.  The mindset is exactly like mine was.  That first time was quite exquisite, even though I did it protected with my own underwear.  I didn't dare go all the way.  But that eventually changed.  I thought of it as purging myself of my feminine demons.  But it only got worse.  It only made me want to do it more and more and more, and with less and less protection.  So case 3 would most likely be so relieved to fianlly do it, that he would be the most willing participant of all.

But this raises a few questions about 1 and 2.  1 would be completely new to the experience, and would probably not enjoy it quite as much.  But look at the way I felt when I first wore those tights!  I didn't want to take them off!  1 would be the same way, I think.  It would be so new to him.  2 would probably be shocked to learn that the thing he wanted to do was so wonderful.  3 would have suspected it all along.

Now 4 is a different story altogether.  He would be like me a couple of years ago: guilty of his frequent sins.  So all of this would be completely irrelevant to him, in a way, because he already has given in to that first moment.  That's what this is all about: the first moment.  It's a chance to imagine the impact that this stuff could have had on me at various stages.  4 would no doubt have refused to give in.  He's ashamed of himself.  This would be an exercise in accepting his femininity.  5 would just be an opportunity to accept it publicly.  6 hardly needs any comment.  I don't know what that's doing there.

It all rests on the possibilities of a sexual shock.  It gets less and less extreme as one goes down the list.  That's where the fantasizing lies: in figuring just how shocking it might have been.

So here are the three scenarios.  I'm finding it very difficult to explain how this can be so incredibly arousing.  But it's incredible.  I think it goes back to my idea of the potency of women's underwear, and the heirarchy.  I used to imagine that I had to pass through certain stages before I could move on to the next.  I would have to do pantihose a certain number of times before I could move on to bathing suits (dare I even imagine!)

That's the incredible thing.  I was intensely aroused by pantihose.  What if I had started out, my very first time, with some kind of lingerie?  As a grown man, yet?  Imagine the shock to my sexuality.  Delicious, I must say.  The lucky sap gets to skip the whole thing and go right to the top of the heap.  It would be so incredible that he would completely go insane with pleasure.  I would have gone insane with pleasure.  Just to think of the big step I imagined with bathing suits!  They were so sexy, because they are form fitting and tight and skimpy on the crotch, right where the focus is.  And then the big step to bikinis, which are even skimpier, and that much more heavenly for it.  And then the not so big step to panties, which are the ultimate, because they are so skimpy, and they are so much the bare essentials.  No girl would go without panties.  So panties would be by far the ultimate sensation.  I can't even imagine a first time in panties.  It's just too intense.

But also imagine how incredible it could be for the guy who had thought about the sexual possibilities, and going all the way from the very get-go.  Same thing.  Oh, I have to go.  I feel like wearing a bathing suit tonight. . .

Diary: Over-Analysis

It has been several months since my last confession.  I have neglected this record of my passion, although I have made many discoveries (sadly, in only a psychological sense) about it.

I read Richard Slotkin's Regeneration Through Violence in August, and learned how American men strive to destroy the wilderness, because they love it.  There is a deep-seated psychological need to cannibalise your victims: thus, the American destroys the wilderness because  he knows that he must merge with it.  Or something like that.  His greatest fear, and his greatest desire, are contradictorily, to merge with the wilderness: he fears becoming an Indian, and he needs to become an Indian to conquer the wilderness; to conquer the wilderness, he must become part of it.  Does this sound familiar yet?

Slotkin used many examples.  I have one of my own.

Here I am, typically male in that I love women and their exquisite bodies as mythical objects which I must worship from afar.  Because in my youth, sex was so alien to me, I had to idealize the female body somehow.  The real thing is somehow different from the fantasy, in ways that I cannot yet define.  This has become embedded in my psyche as an ideal of femininity.

Clearly, because women always wear a particular type of design of underwear, which accentuates their femininity, I have come to associate these articles of clothing with femininity.  So when I think of the ideal woman, I think of sexy lingerie or swimsuits or whatever.  

Now, because I love women so much (and I do believe that I have iterated this before), I want to become one.  I need to take on the attributes of this ideal which I hold so high.  So I must somehow attempt to assimilate myself into womanhood.  I wear women's clothing, in the cannibalistic hope that wearing their clothes will turn me into one of them.  It's like the primitive hunter who eats the bear's heart to gain his courage.  I don't have to kill, or eat; but I do have to take something of the female.  Indians have been known to wear animal skins, believing that doing so gives them the animal's power.  So here I am, wearing women's "skin" to gain the woman's power.

But does that explain the overpowering urge to wear girls' underwear?  The entire idea of being captured by girls and being forced to become one of them seems to me extremely similar to the notion of the white captive going Indian, much to his and his people's horror.  Look at my fantasies of the past 44 pages, and note how often the captivity myth creeps in there.  It's certainly something to think about.

Meanwhile, I continue to struggle with the fact that I am a flaming transvestite.  When I read little snippets of the previous entry in this femininity diary, my heart jumped with excitement.  I can't help it.  The idea of wearing girls' clothes turns me on so much that I my heart leaps when I just think of it.  It's so much more appealing than sex.  Sadly, in a way, but thankfully in another.  I can't imagine a more passionate, more pure way of acheiving all of my sexual desires than effeminating myself.  It's sad because I'll never make love as passionately as I transsexualize myself, and it's that much more tantalizing for exactly the same reason: I am a freak of nature, because I have warped myself into this by persistently wearing women's clothes.  That means that somehow, in my tantalizingly sick little girlish mind, it's working.  I am becoming more feminine as I wear these things.  I keep pushing myself, too.  I lose a bit of interest, and I force myself sometimes to wear them.  Then it all comes right back, in full force, and I feel an incredible undeniable desire to womanize.  Like now, I had only the vaguest notion of horniness about this, when I forced myself, to kill time, to put on my lingerie outfit and read and write in this little journal.  Now I'm totally enthralled again.  And I love it.  I am again reminded of the need to acquire more of a wardrobe.  I will do it, eventually.  I swear it.  A bikini first.  Then maybe some new panties, white this time, and possibly my own bra.  Then I'll need black fishnets and a really nice teddy.  And there'll be more.  I know it.  And I'm glad.

Another thing I thought about is my captivity narrative's possibilities.  Imagine every possible scenario of a man like myself (let's just say myself, so that I can savour every moment of this) being captured and faced with wearing women's clothing.  There are several possibilities underlying the entire theme to begin with, which deal with my previous experiences as a transvestite.  I could either 

1. have never even imagined wearing girls' clothes, much less done it.
2. have never worn women's clothes, but have guiltily and secretly fantasized about it on occasion.
3. have guiltily worn women's clothes on a bet, or as a quick little experiment, but never gone through with the full experience of wearing it for complete sexual gratification
4. have guiltily worn women's clothing secretly and ashamedly, for sexual gratification
5. have shamelessly worn girls' clothes for sexual fun in secret.
6. be a totally unashamed transvestite.

The least fun of these to imagine, in a way, is 6).  They capture me, and they don't have to strip me down.  I'm already wearing panties.  They let me join immediately, happy but surprised to see such a pro in action already.

Then there's the rest, all of which are pretty interesting.

The scenario, by the way is this: I am captured, and stripped down.  A girl cajoles me about putting on her panties.

In all five cases, I can react in three ways:

1. I furiously refuse all attempts to get me to put them on, cajoling included.
2. I at first refuse, but after some cajoling agree to put them on
3. I put them on right away, no questions asked.

Behind each possibility lies the possible motive for such an action, based on the initial possibilities about my previous experience.  In all cases, I must end up in the panties.  

Imagine the first case: I have never experienced girls' clothes before, or even imagined wearing any before, and suddenly, I am exposed to the possibility.  I consider it absurd, and react in any of the three ways mentioned above.  First, I could humour her, and step into them innocently, because I'm not afraid.  Otherwise, I consider it ridiculous, and outright refuse to even humour her.  She laughs at me, and asks me if I feel so insecure as a man that I wouldn't be caught dead in women's underwear.  I can either give in at this point and put them on to prove to her that I am not afraid of compromising my masculinity.  Or I can continue to refuse, for ever.  Then she forces me to wear them somehow.

Just imagine the result of this: for 1-3, the experience would be an instant shock.  I slip into the panties unknowingly, and instantly surprise myself by popping the most insane boner ever.  I discover the secret of femininity, and I can react either with self-loathing or with blind abandon.  For 1-1, I am forced into the panties, and to my shame, instantly show my pleasure.  She shows me that I am compromising my masculinity, and I can't do anything about it, because I'm being forced.  I think I must of necessity become self-loathing in this case.  For 1-2, I discover, for the first time, the wonder of girlishness, and am probably ashamed at showing such pleasure.  A guilty but willing newcomer to transsexuality.

Now, in the second case, the results must be more positive.  2-1 must grudgingly admit my secret but never acted upon fantasy, and understand its fantastic appeal.  2-2 would be an intense discovery, of the type that I discover unexpectedly what I had been missing by cowardishly refusing to act out my fantasy.  2-3 would be an impulsive experiment, and monumental surprise and acceptance of a new way of dressing, shocked by failing a test of masculinity

3 would be somewhat similar, but a different degree of positivity again.  3-1 would be a stage of self-denial before finally accepting with violent shame that I have always wanted to do this, and have come close to trying, but never acted it out to the end.  3-2 would be a grudging self-denial again, trying to prove to myself that I can wear this without embarrassing myself: I would try gallantly to prove my manhood, not only to myself, but to the girl pushing her panties on me, and fail most ignominously.  And I would grudgingly accept my failure.  3-3 would be an impulsive grasp at an opportunity to discover femininity.  Or maybe I exaggerate a bit.  Certainly, there would be an element of defiance, much as in 3-2.

4 would be close to my own experience. 4-1  Refusing would be a prolongation of the agony of self-denial.  The girl would certainly discover my secret, and notice that I look much too comfortable in panties to have never enjoyed them before.  She would get me to confess, and surrender to her wardrobe.  I would eventually be the happier for it.  4-2 would be much like 3-2, a test of my resolve, but I would be much more certain to lose, and give in to my guilty pleasures, and soon accept my lot.  4-3 would be a complete surrender to girlishness, such as I experienced when I decided to take Mom's flowery purplish swimsuit and to stop denying my femininity.  It would be a wholesale acceptance of girlishness, a joyous leap into the freedom of silks and lace.

5 would be interesting.  5-1 would be a curious option, considering the stage of femininity.  What would I do?  What would make me refuse?  A stubborn denial, not to the self, but to the world, that I have a strong craving for the feminine.  Once forced, I would instantly give in, and gladly.  5-2 would be more like a game.  I would pretend to be masculine, or to care about my masculinity, and then snap them on gleefully and become girlish on the spot.  5-3, of course, would be a complete acceptance of my coming out.  A graceful coming out of the closet.

The options that appeal to me most right now are the ones where I either discover for the first time the intense pleasures involved in dressing up in girls' undies, and my subsequent discovery of a new universe and a new sexual identity, or my giving in to secret desires at last, and feeling an incredible relief.  At any rate, I just love to think of the psychological implications of any of these choices.  I am going to go fantasize about them all now.  

Was it last time that I swore to sleep in lingerie or something for an entire night?  Well, it seems like a long time.  I might not even have sworn it here.  At any rate, I tried to do it, and it was impossible.  I couldn't sleep, because I was perpetually horny.  My penis hurt from overuse.  I spewed at least twice, but couldn't even handle another boner after that.  I just couldn't do it anymore.  So I bailed.  I'll try it again someday with something more tame.

I don't think I'll have anything new to report next time, but I know it'll be fun again.  It always is when I surrender my masculinity.