I wanted this to stop, it was going only one way and I was unable to say no anymore.

I had given up wearing Y fronts in favour of satin knickers long ago, that was my choice.

It was his choice that I wear matching bras as well, he said to help me feel more feminine. When I said it made me nervous I could be found out he came out with a simple solution, stop being a Saturday girl and be pretty every day.
Well it was training bras to start with, virtually no cups but that changed when I started to grow larger nipples and then small breasts, then I needed a soft bra to stop my shirt irritating the nipples. I suppose it could be said wearing a bra is now my choice.

It was also my choice I suppose to pluck extra hairs from my brows when he said we were going somewhere specail at the weekend.

And it was my choice to let my nails grow into a more almond shape after the glue on ones broke off one Saturday night in bed and pricked me.

It was his doing that my jeans got ripped when all my other pairs were being washed, meaning the only trousers I had to wear to work were my female suit trousers, boot leg with a fitted arse. I expected comment at work but no one saw them under the desk.

I chose to let my hair grow, I just hated the wig especially in summer, but it was my sister who trimmed it so it looked more female than male. I just did not have the strength to go and get it cut short again after the months of waiting for it grow. So I had to live with a nice girl’s style.

It was work who made a decision for me. I was called into the main office, the management team facing me looking quite amused. I was wearing my white underwear, not that they knew that, a pair of grey trousers with an interesting side fastening, my eye brows had been thinned just a little more that weekend and my sister had cut my fringe so I had to use Kirby grips or gel to stop it falling across my face. Not hearing them right when they commented on my appearance I thought I had not cleaned all the makeup off from the night before but they were more concerned about the gossip my ‘alternative style’ was causing. They asked if I was transgendered, because if I was then I should be open about it, if not then dress appropriately for a man. I said ‘Oh right’ and went away to think about it.

By the following Monday I had not been able to take scissors to my hair, or deny I liked the satin underwear, and I wanted to let my nails grow a little longer, so I told them I was transgendered and wore the jacket to the trousers and a nice white blouse made of lovely silk and my comfortable heels to work.

Work has set in place paperwork to recognise my changes, and my boyfriend has asked me to move in on condition my male clothes don’t.

And all because I like to wear nice satin briefs.