Walking in Beckys Shoes
By: Julie D Cole

I guess I was about 14 when I had my first real chance to experience what it was like to be a girl like my sister who I’d admired so much growing up. After that things accelerated and it’s funny how your life can then change once you have tasted this pleasure and the ecstasy it provides. I soon realised that there is another side to my personality.

I had a fairly free access to all things beautiful in those days. My sister Rebecca had gone to University and my father was working in the Middle East and that left mum and I at home on our own. She’d taken an evening bar job for 5 nights per week so I got a lot of time to do homework, or should I say on my own. I’d been tempted to rummage around in my sisters wardrobe on many occasions but never really dared wear more than a few items of clothes and I’d purloined a few out of the charity bags that mum sometimes leaves at the end of the drive that were carefully stashed away in my built in wardrobe.

It had a removable panel that I’d found one day and I found that I could squeeze through the opening into the roof space that previous owners had fitted out with flooring and a storage chest. I guess dad must have known it was there but mum and Rebecca would never dare venture there in case of mice. It was a perfect secret hideaway for me and was window less and quite well lit by a large old 100 W light bulb. Lots of headroom since we lived in a large old house that had been built in the 1920’s.

I’d cleaned it and fitted it with some carpet tiles that dad had intended for the rubbish skip. I eventually smuggled in an old full length mirror and a stool from dads garage and an old suitcase where I safely stored the items of underwear that I had collected like a magpie and now they were all mine.

Anyway one day after school I was doing my revising for an examination when I had the urge to go upstairs and look through my sister’s closet. She looked after her clothes and saved a lot of things that still looked like new. She had a lot of shoes of all types including a few pairs of heeled boots and shoes that were my size. How did I know that? Well of course I’d had to try them and I’d not been disappointed each time the opportunity came up.

The trouble was the more I wore them the more I wanted to keep them on so I was wearing them around the house with some ankle socks. I had become quite proficient and loved to watch TV with my legs crossed. But dare I go any further and dare I wear tights or even stockings with a suspender belt? Wow I’d seen lots of pictures in mums magazines and catalogues. I wanted to see what I looked like in the highest heels. Why can’t men be allowed to wear shoes like this? Who decided they were exclusive to women? They wear mens style so it’s hardly fair.

I eventually treated myself to my own pair of tights whilst running an errand for mum. I selected medium size in a dark tan colour as my first gift to myself, pretending I’d been asked to buy them for mum. They were much thinner than my socks so it was easy to slip into shoes. So the time came for me to dress more fully and my favourite outfit was my sister’s school uniform since it seemed to be appropriate whilst I studied.

These experiences in my sister’s uniform meant that I wanted to look more like a girl each time I dressed. So to help I let my hair grow longer despite a few adverse comments that I ignored because it wasn’t the current fashion. I liked it and I brushed it as often as I could before I went to bed so it looked very healthy and quite feminine especially when parted from the left. I curled it under sometimes and used spray to hold it. It seemed to work OK and eventually I had to use a hair clip to stop it falling across my face.

I took to wearing a bra whenever I could and found that two small water filled balloons worked quite well and made me feel as if I had a natural bust. I didn’t ever want to remove them and smuggled a nightdress and underwear into my room and would sleep with the balloons in place with the bedroom door locked of course. I was also shaving my legs and armpits even though I hadn’t too much course hair anywhere. It was awkward at school for a while because the other guys in the class were proudly showing copious growths on legs and chests as a sign of their manhood. I was nicknamed ‘Girly Shirley.’

Anyway I avoided any confrontation or bullying and at the end of the summer I had a nice tan with smooth legs and hairless arms to match the smooth chest. I even took to trimming my pubic hair to keep it neat and tidy.

By now the evenings were drawing in a bit since it was already mid-October as I sat doing my studies and wishing I had some reference books or at least could visit the library. I decided that I’d go straight from school the next day and spend two hours researching and maybe even using the library computer instead of our apology for one. There were no laptops in those days just table tops or desktops.

As I left school I needed to call home to pick up my bag when I realised mum had already left to do some shopping before she started work. My dinner was ready to go in the oven when I finished at the library but I resisted the chance to eat it and went upstairs. Something seemed to drag me inside my sister’s room.

I quickly stripped off my clothes and I had a strong urge to go to the library dressed like this and felt confident since most of us at school were developing and lots of girls were still boyish and boys were going through various stages of puberty. Who would know as long as I got home safely?

I was soon leaving the house with my sister’s old school bag over my shoulder and wearing her short grey skirt, white socks and white blouse together with the deep pink school blazer and black school shoes. I felt great as the wind blew across my legs and it was a much nicer experience than I’d had in my football shorts and no grubby knees to be found. My legs looked great with white socks showing off my tan. I felt completely different to my normal self and so I tried to walk with small footsteps all the way to the library. There were a few other school children around but for some reason I didn’t mind. I didn’t see anyone that knew me.

I spent almost 2 hours in the library that night and to my surprise I worked quite hard and was hardly distracted by the fact that I was dressed like Rebecca. There were a few visitors and one girl who kept looking across at me and smiling. I wondered if she’d realised that I was in fact a boy but if she did then she didn’t do anything about it. As I left to go home she smiled and said ‘Hello I see you are called Beckie, I’m Millie.’

She’d obviously seen the name on my school bag.

I had no choice but to say hello after which she asked if I’d be visiting again tomorrow since she felt safe if another girl was around.

Mmm another girl? Maybe I could but really by this time I was worrying what might happen if someone recognised me.

“Beckie are you by any chance going down the High street since I’d rather walk with someone than go alone?’

I wasn’t but since it wasn’t much of a detour I decided to accompany her. “OK I am going that way but normally I’d cut across the field by the chemists shop on the corner but maybe it’s not so wise. “

“Oh good I’m ready so shall we walk together?”

As we walked down the street Mille smiled at me and said she hadn’t seen me before so which class was I in? I mumbled a few sentences naming a few teachers and girls in my class before finally we reached the point where our paths parted.

‘Same time tomorrow Beckie?’

“OK”

I headed for home and flopped onto my bed. Wow that was a stupid thing to do. Now she’d be looking for me at school and also I’d agreed to meet the following day.

Well I avoided her OK at school though I did think I saw her across the quadrangle. I was nervous as I walked home but the urge to repeat the experience was too much and so I dressed again and sure enough she was waiting for me at the library.

After a week we became good friends and Millie was asking more and more questions. I found myself answering as if I was her best friend or sister and we’d talk about TV and all sorts of different things. We became so absorbed in what we were doing that we were oblivious to the time so more often than not for the next few evenings we were asked to leave the library so it could close. It seemed so natural to be friends with each other and I really liked to dress in a skirt. We even used the bathroom together and Millie never seemed to stop chatting even whatever she was doing.

I would hurriedly wash and dry the blouses and underwear that I was wearing and was terrified in case mum appeared at home before I dried and ironed them and I had a few narrow escapes.

This carried on almost to Christmas that meant I was out in all weathers and had to borrow my sister’s school raincoat. It had a hood and it fitted very well. My legs were cold though so I decided to start wearing tights like Millie did. She made some nice comments about my shapely calves and slim ankles and I gave complements in return. I was behaving more and more like my sister and even mum had noticed and had commented on more than one occasion.

Then the surprise that spoiled all the fun. Millie asked me if I’d like to go shopping with her on Saturday and if I’d like visit and have tea at her house. I panicked. This was getting dangerous.

So I had to make an excuse and disappoint poor Millie. I made up some story about having to go away for the school holidays to stay with my dad. I hated to tell such lies as Millie was almost in tears. But I wasn’t exactly being truthful anyway and on balance I decided Millie would be more upset if she knew the whole truth.

So I put all my things in the box in the roof space and sealed up the access. I put my sister’s clothes away and resisted all temptation to dress and would shut my eyes and count to one hundred if ever the urge came. It seemed to work but mum noticed that something had happened to me.

I saw Millie sometimes at school and she looked sad. I daren’t speak to her and sometimes the urge to contact her as Beckie and dress again was so strong that I almost gave in.

I managed somehow and so it was two years before I had to finally give in and dress as Rebecca again. I was sitting reading mum’s magazine and moping around because my grades had fallen and I’d had to face the head of department for a stern warning. I thought that my only solution was to be happy again and since I was still slim and hairless it was easy to pick up where I’d left off. My hair was a bit shorter but still long enough to style.

I guess I was also influenced by the story I’d been reading about a woman who had been born in a man’s body and how she’d finally had the courage to dress and act like a woman. She was beautiful and nobody would have known surely.

So even at sixteen I looked like a schoolgirl in Rebeccas uniform. My friends were mostly girls with the exception of Nick Harvey or Harvey Nicks as we called him. He was good fun and he seemed to like my sense of humour. He got a little bit fond sometimes and I had to really fight to avoid direct eye contact or I might even have fainted.

I decided to go back to my sister’s bedroom to check how many of her clothes still fitted me. The uniform was a bit much and I didn’t think I could go out wearing it now I was older. But there was a great selection at my disposal. Funny but I didn’t go for the fem stuff I went for a pair of skinny jeans, boots, tight red sweater over a white bra that I padded out.

I looked so much like a grown up version of Beckie the schoolgirl. I just had to go out for a walk. So I wrapped up warm and stepped out into the cold evening air. I hadn’t lost my technique for walking in heeled boots and I liked the noise on the pavement.

I walked towards the High street to look in the shop windows and spent half an hour enjoying myself looking at my reflection. As I stopped at a Pelican crossing to cross the road I heard a womans voice shouting to me. Then she came running towards me leaving her friend.

‘Over here. Rebecca is that you? Beckie it’s me Millie.’