It's partly a curiosity, partly a twisted, willful perversion. They get twisted together into something entirely bizarre. I keep coming back to my childhood, wondering where it all began. I fantasized about being turned into a girl since the moment I learned to masturbate. I remember some vague sense that a woman would take me away and I would become a girl under her influence. She would have me rub my hard little dick for her, and I would become one of them. The association isn't quite there, but wearing those tight little stockings for the class play in Kindergarten made it abundantly clear. So now I wear bikinis and panties and garter belts, and I wish for all sorts of other goodies to make me feel more feminine.

It's so obvious: I love to feel feminine! I want to be a girl! It's totally unacceptable, but I don't care! I want to cast off all my manhood and openly embrace womanhood! Wearing women's clothes only enhances the fantasy. It's not a fantasy in itself. It is a means to asserting my femininity. I need to make myself girlish whenever I can, and thinking about it just isn't good enough.

I don't think I've ever touched on this before. It's all about becoming feminine! It's always been there, always front and centre, but I never really took note of it as the goal. I've come close to making the connection, but now I have it!

Sometimes, I think that wearing women's clothes is the goal. Becoming girlish in the process is part of the thrill, no doubt; but I assumed that the lingerie was the objective. If I become feminine as a consequence of wearing girlish things, so be it! I thought that the thrill ended there. I would tolerate, and even welcome, becoming a girl only because it would allow me to dress like one.

It's so much more delicious than that.

I do it because it makes me a girl. The true objective is to become a girl. I mentioned above fantasizing about taking hormones and such. I don't think I ever thought of it as an end in itself. Not consciously, anyway. It was always for the underwear, the skirts, the sexy outfits.

I'm not sure that the distinction is coming across. Maybe I've known about it all along, and only took hold of it now. Maybe I've somehow forgotten about it, and rediscovered it. Difficult to say. Right now I feel convinced that I've discovered something critical.

Let's put it into a fantasy, shall we?


The standard story: One day, I'm minding my own business, when all of a sudden I'm captured by women. The battle of the sexes has turned violent. Women want to assimilate all men. Men can't live without women, so we're losing badly. I'm one of the best fighters on the male side. I desperately fear becoming a girl. I'm comfortable and happy being a man.

So now, they've captured me, and they introduce me to their underwear. I'm a goner. I don't want to succumb, but they're so sexy. They torture me by putting me naked in a room filled with nothing but lingerie. I dress up like a girl, under duress, but I get used to it. They reward me for it. I start coming all over myself when I wear their clothes. I tell them that I love their clothes, that they feel so good on my body. I know that it's bad, I know that I really shouldn't be wearing bikinis and lingerie and skirts and nightgowns. But I love it! At every turn, they make me feel like I shouldn't, but I do! I want to try on everything. I want to experience everything as a girl. That's when I realize that I want desperately to be a girl. The clothing is just a fun part of it. It's the womanhood that I really want.


That is the key! It's a sudden discovery that wearing women's clothes is the closest path to being female. I want to be able to reach down my pants, feel silk against my smooth, hairless body, follow a curve down towards my crotch, past a soft mound of coarse hair, and into an even softer fleshy thing with a hard clit up the middle.

It's all about being a girl. Wearing stuff is cool because it allows me to express my girlishness.