Thursday, May 20, 1999

Fantasy: What's In My Pants?

It's all a matter of freedom.

I want to be free to express my femininity, but I can't in public.  I can only indulge in it privately.

What I really want is a beautiful, sexy girl who would actually not mind indulging my occasional transsexual fantasy.  The other day I fantasized about hanging around in bed with a girl, both of us wearing bikinis.  I would worship her body, and she would fondle me all over.  She would make me feel like a girl, like her, and I would play along, and we'd rub together gleefully feminine.  She would, of course, have to take a vow of silence.  I don't even know how I would bring it up.

The moment of acceptance makes any fantasy.  Consider being forced to wear women's underwear.  Either you're overwhelmed by the eroticism of it right away, or you resist but succumb later.  Regardless, you accept and cherish your newly discovered fetish.  You might pretend to hate it, but secretly you adore it, savour every moment of it.  You fantasize about sexier garments.  You want to be a girl, totally and irrevocably.

Another example, in a fantasy:

All day I've been walking around feeling a bit strange.  I don't know what's wrong with me.  I just don't feel comfortable in my own skin.  It almost feels as though a part of me is missing.  At the same time, I feel like I'm about to burst.  It's so weird.  It feels as though my pants don't fit right. 

I feel horny when I think about it too much.  Like now.  Something feels different down there.  It's a horniness I never felt before.  I don't feel my cock stiffening.  Instead I feel warmth.  Heat.  I feel slinky.

I'm alone now in a washroom.  I feel like I need to pee.  I stand up at the urinal, and unzip my fly.  But there's nothing there.  

You would think I'd panic.  But no, instead a gush of excitement rushes through me.  My underwear feels funny.  It's not cottony, but soft, very silky.  With rough edges.  I undo the button at the top of my jeans, and take a look at what I'm wearing.

It's a silky bikini brief with lacy trim, and a cute little bow at the top.  White.  Very pretty.  It cradles my crotch like a hammock.  Somehow, my nether regions have become female.  

I want to panic again, but I'm far too amazed at my new figure.  It looks gorgeous!  I reach for where my dick used to be, and find instead a soft lump of sensitive skin, covered in coarse hair.  Inside is a wet, hot, slimy clit, hard with anticipation.  I can't help but fondle it a few strokes.  I'm a girl!

My reflection in the mirror still looks male.  It looks the same as ever.  But not the crotch.  Somehow, I've turned into a girl.  Somehow, I like it. [Here's the moment of acceptance] I want to strip off my pants and parade around in my new undies, my new identity.  I want to cast off my male clothes and put on a dress, a bra, maybe a miniskirt, stockings, heels, makeup. . . I want to explore this to the hilt, before it reverts back to normal.  I want to feel everything that a woman feels.  I wonder what it feels like to have a dick in there?  My cunt waters at the thought.  Erotic fantasies of sucking and fucking dicks run through my mind, and I don't even try to dismiss them.  

So off I go to buy some lingerie, some swimsuits, dresses, shoes, the whole bit.  This is fucking amazing!  

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