OK, stop right there. This would probably work much better as a diary. A lab book. With daily entries chronicling my slow transformation into a woman. Yeah, that would really work well. Suspense, excitement. Another fantastic experiment every day. Always something new. Yes, that will work amazingly well.
Finally, a writing project, albeit one that I can never show anyone. Except those transsexual types on the internet, maybe; I can smoke any of them easily. I'm a much better writer. Anyway:
Sunday, January 1, 1998
I am so sick of stupid social rules. The most nefarious rules are those that no one notices. Why is it that people dress the way they do? It astounds me that men wear such obvious phallic symbols around their necks all day to gain the respect of their peers. And why is it that only women (and Scotsmen) wear skirts? I don't understand why society insists on differentiating the sexes by clothing.
But that's all been done and said before. Look at the multitudes of rock stars who occasionally wear dresses on stage to shock their audiences, for example. Drag is simple enough. But what about going deeper? I'll bet that no self-respecting man would dare to wear women's underwear. Sure, there's that Rocky Horror type craze, but none of those cult fans would ever dare actually do it. They wouldn't want to harm their manhood. As if women's underwear can somehow damage their sexuality.
I want to prove to the world that these conventions of clothing are totally arbitrary and off-base. Why is it that only women are allowed to wear frilly pink silky panties with flowers on them? Why is that considered feminine? Boxer shorts, by comparison, can hardly be considered underwear. Why this distinction? Is it an objectification of women?
Here's what I propose to do: I will get myself some women's underwear. And I will wear it. And I will let everyone on earth know that it has no adverse effect on my manhood. I will show them how irrelevant their little notions of gender really are. It's not the clothes that make the man.
January 2 1998
Alicia thinks it's a crazy idea for me to wear women's underwear. She tells me that I'm going too far, that she can't respect a man who tries to be feminine. I explained to her that I'm not trying to be feminine, that I'm trying to prove that my masculinity bursts through no matter what I wear; and furthermore, that that is the case for all of us. She seemed a bit skeptical, but I think I convinced her. I went so far as to show her. I stormed into the bedroom in mid argument, pulled a pair of her panties out of her dresser, dropped my pants, and put her panties on. I stormed around in front of her, and she laughed at me. She thought it was funny. I must admit, she's much smaller than I am, and I did look a bit funny. But the point was made. My dick stuck out, unrestrained by the negligeable cover afforded by her tiny little panties. "All right," she said. "You've made your point, sort of. You look ridiculous, but there's no question that you're a man. But you're not proving anything to anyone with my underwear." She made me promise to buy my own underwear. "Besides," she said, "where better to start than in a retail lingerie outlet, where they would expect you to buy women's underwear for women, and not for yourself." A brilliant plan, I must admit. The plan is set: I'm going to buy my panties and bras tomorrow. I just need to think of some way to exhibit my disregard for these stupid rules without getting myself arrested for exposing myself.
January 3
The trip to the lingerie store was quite thrilling. Alicia refused to accompany me, claiming that it would only make it seem like I'm buying it for her. I had to make it crystal clear that I was shopping for myself, that I would be wearing whatever underwear I buy. It was the best way to make it public. But of course, that doesn't prove anything. Just that I bought women's lingerie.
Anyway, I bought myself seven pairs of panties, in various styles and colours: lacy, silky, satiny, frilly, black, white, red. I bought some bras to match, some more versatile. The clerk was very helpful, if a bit purturbed. She did indeed assume that I was shopping for my mate, but I had to set her straight. I think she was somewhat embarrassed by my claim. She refused to believe me at first. She thought that I was kidding in some sarcastic way. But eventually, she knew that I wasn't, and she helped me pick out something that would fit me. I'll start wearing it tomorrow, and try to show or tell as many people as possible. That'll show 'em.
January 4
I never expected that women's underwear could be so comfortable. I've been wearing these white silk bikini panties all day, and I find that they support me much better than my own underwear. In fact, they're very smooth, and I very much enjoy wearing them. The bra gets in the way a little bit, though. Alicia had to show me how to put it on before she burst into uproarious laughter. I looked absolutely stupid. But I had to make my point. Obviously, women's underwear is designed to fit female bodies, and I simply don't have one. Some of the features simply don't help me at all. The whole idea of wearing a bra seems pointless. But then again, it doesn't really do anything but hinder women, too. Alicia tells me that she's much more comfortable bra-less, and that she thinks that women wear them just for decoration. If that is the case, then I must wear one to complete the female under-uniform.
At any rate, I still don't know how to exhibit myself. I thought about just stripping down in a public place and starting a rant, but that just didn't seem appropriate. Besides, it's too cold outside for that. I'll have to find a better way, and a better opportunity.
January 10
Finally I got enough nerve today to rant and rave and exhibit myself. I don't think the plebes understood. They gaped and laughed and pointed at me like I'm some kind of freakish homosexual. But I'm not. They missed the point. Back to the ol' drawing board.
At least they know my face now. When I find a better way to get my message across, they'll remember me and know what I was trying to tell them.
February 5
Alicia gave me the cold shoulder today. She says she's sick and tired of me wearing a bra and panties. She doesn't like it at all. I tried to convince her that it doesn't mean anything, but she just doesn't get it. I mean, I explained it to her so many goddamned times. She should know that my masculinity is in no danger. I still fuck the shit out of her every night. Doesn't she get it? Why is it that even she is still clinging to that ridiculous rule. She makes me want to wear women's underwear even more, just to prove to her that I'm not going to become feminine. What a fool.
[big spat, angry Alicia throws my panties around, vowing to never return to me]
March 21
Now that Alicia has moved out, I feel much more free. I can wear what I want. I didn't realize how entrenched that clothing convention really is. I'm more determined than ever to show the world how foolish it is.
April 5
Damn it, none of these women understand what I'm doing. I picked up another bar chick tonight. She liked the way I dance. But she just didn't get it when we started getting naked back at my place. She was horrified about my underwear. Like all the others. My message is having no effect. I think I blew it large. I lost Alicia because of this. I suppose that some things are just intractable, and I can't fight them alone. I'm going back to my male underwear.
April 10
I hate these damned boxers. Women's underwear is so much more comfortable. Oh, well. I have to stick to manhood. If that's what they think manhood is, then so be it. I don't care.
April 17
I really have to get rid of those panties and bras. I don't want to wear my boxers anymore. I want my women's underwear. I put it in a box today, and shelved it. I don't want to even see it anymore. It's all the way in the back, where I'll forget about it in a week.
April 24
A funny thing happened to me today. I couldn't stop thinking about that box I put away last week, and its contents. So I took it down and opened it up, and slipped on my favourite silky panties and matching bra. I was so relieved. But I was also disturbed. I was too relieved. I had a huge bone-on. I didn't want to take them off. I haven't been laid in ages. I couldn't stop. I felt so ashamed after that I put them away again. I think they should go into the trash.
May 1
Finally, I'm back to normal. I couldn't do without that underwear. And to think that I almost threw it away. So now I'm wearing my black lace panties and bra set. I feel very sexy, too. I'm beginning to worry. I can't stop wearing it. And I'm really starting to feel, well, sexy. Slinky. God, I don't know what to think about this. Could it be that I was wrong all along, and I'm really becoming effeminate? Why would I need to wear women's underwear? And why do I feel so comfortable in it? Sometimes, I feel so ashamed of myself. But I can't do otherwise. I suppose that I had best keep this secret. I was wrong, and now I have to pay the price. I must try to wean myself off of them again, slowly and painfully, but irrevocably. I can't remain like this. It's dangerous.
May 10
My weaning is, I think going well. I wear my old boxers at least once a week, and I don't feel to eager to come back to silks and lace. I will increase my dosage to two days a week now, and hope for the best.
May 30
Oh, God, I couldn't wait to get out of those boxers today! They're so bulky and unimaginative. I can't stand them! It felt so amazingly good to come back to my little comfy panties. But this is terrible news. I don't want to wear women's clothing anymore, but I can't stop myself. I'm out of control. I've tried for a month to get back into men's clothes, but I can't take it. I'll have to go cold turkey. Tomorrow, I have to screw up my courage, and get rid of my women's underwear for good. In the trash. No more. I need to discipline myself here. NO more of this nonsense.
June 1
Well, my women's underwear is gone. I'll be back to normal now whether I like it or not.
June 27
Alicia called me today, and we talked for a long time. I hope that maybe we can get back together now.
July 10
I did a very bad thing today.
I went over to Alicia's. I talked with her. We sort of made up. But she is seeing someone else now. She doesn't want anything to do with me other than as platonic friendship. I showed her, in a very tense moment, that I'm not feminine anymore. She was embarrassed, and a bit angry, but she understood my pain. But she doesn't.
She took off to the washroom for a moment, and I just stared at her dresser. Where she keeps her underwear. I was trembling like a leaf. I felt nothing about her seeing another man. I was surprisingly unfazed. But her underwear drove me crazy. I impulsively opened her drawer to look at her, uh, drawers. She flushed the toilet, and I knew that I had better hurry. I took a pair of panties in my hand and stuffed them down my pants. I left her apartment soon thereafter. With her panties in my pants.
I was so nervous when I got home. I have Alicia's underwear here beside me. I'm trembling again. Just looking at them makes me shake. I want to put them on. Desperately. Oh, God, just the thought of it...
There. I have put them on. I am now wearing Alicia's cotton panties. No. I am now wearing my cotton panties. I don't want to take them off. I don't even want to see her anymore. I just want her underwear.
July 11
All day I wore those panties. And boy did it feel great. I felt so great in fact that I returned to the lingerie store where my experiment began and bought a bra to match them. And more lingerie. I can only wear it on special occasions, though. I can't permit myself to do it every day. That would be wrong.
July 18
So here I am wearing my panties and bra again. With increasing frequency. This simply must stop. But I've tried, and I cannot. I must quit cold turkey again. No more even thinking about this.
July 23
I'm sorry. I couldn't take it anymore. after almost a week without women's underwear, I snapped. I went back to the lingerie store and bought myself a very pretty silk and lace teddy, white, with fishnet stockings and a garter belt. I've never worn anything that feminine before. But that's not all.
I showered when I got home. And I shaved. My legs. And my torso. It took hours. I thought that my razor would burn out from overworking. But I got it done. I have no more body hair that I can see. And the stockings look pretty good on my smooth legs. They feel even better. The teddy feels a little tight, but overall quite smooth and comfy. I feel so excited. And it's all because of what I'm wearing. It makes me feel feminine. And I like feeling feminine. I'm afraid that I am becoming feminine. And I couldn't stop it. So I am now shaven and wearing women's lingerie. And I don't ever want to take it off, unless it's to slip into a more comfy, if less sexy, pair of women's cotton bikini panties. I can't wear men's clothes anymore. I simply cannot. At least, not underwear. I must maintain my outward male facade. This will be my little secret, this wearing women's underwear. No one must know.
July 31
My body hair doesn't seem to be growing back. I bought a miniskirt today. A short one.
August 10
Now I'm dressing outwardly as a girl for the first time. And I love it.
September 20
I met Alicia. She was shocked. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't recognize me. But she did. She took me in. I showed her how far it had gotten, how crazy my obsession has become. She was quite impressed. She showed me a few tips on how to look sexy. She's good at that. And they worked. I owe her so much. She's such a sweetie.
October 31
My nipples seem bigger. And my body hair still hasn't returned. But it only means less work for me. Finally, something to put in my bra.
December 25
I woke up this morning and looked at myself in the mirror. A fully shaped, full breasted woman stared back at me. I love my slim waist. My tits are getting nice and round.
[etc]
I can really work with this. Throw in more detail here and there. Yes, I like it a lot. But it needs more of my little fantasy about how wearing women's clothes actually physically transforms men into women. The more you wear it, the more you like it, and the more you become female. Then you begin to notice, but not care.
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