Annie, Get Your Gun!

By: Renee Elysse

Chapter 1 – An introduction, and into the wayback machine we go!

Most of my friends and family know me as Mike Jacobs. What I now think of as my “male persona” involves being a successful executive, outdoorsman, handyman, and one of the “guys’ guys,” so to speak. I enjoy the company of beautiful women, wine, and song, as well as hunting, guns, cars, watching football, and playing hockey, among other things.

Little do they know that I also have a much softer, feminine side: my alter-ego, if you will, and her name is Renee. I’m about 5’8” tall and keep myself in really good shape, weighing in typically between 160 and 170 or so, with a lot of lean muscle - so I’m not overly bulky, but by no means effeminate looking when presenting my male persona to the world…in fact quite the opposite, especially in a power suit. My stature, such as it is, also enables me to enjoy all sorts of women’s clothing options, and as a size 12 and a ladies medium to large, I have built up a considerable wardrobe! I’m also fortunate enough to fit into a women’s size 9 shoe, or 39/40 EUR, and have also collected at least three dozen pairs of shoes, ranging from ballet flats all the way up to 5” Louboutins.

Over the years I’ve had many varied and wonderful experiences enjoying life as Renee. To take a step back as to why I have a second name, when I transform into “girl mode,” I look completely different, especially my eyes - and my energy even shifts from a masculine frame of mind, to a feminine one. This effect is so pronounced that I once bumped into a colleague at a bar I was visiting “en femme.” During a night out with a few girlfriends, I was perched on a barstool in a beautiful black cocktail dress, sipping an expensive glass of scotch, and showing off some serious cleavage and a generous amount of leg, simply because I found it enjoyable to display my assets. Now, I could vouch for him being straight as an arrow, having been to a number of strip clubs with him in guy mode. Granted, that night, he was definitely shitfaced, but nonetheless, he flirted with me shamelessly - even making a clumsy attempt to grab my ass at one point! He really had no clue who I was.
As I was saying, the guy most people know disappears, and a seemingly well-endowed, curvy in all the right places, and stunningly beautiful woman emerges from the shadows of the man most people see. I now think of myself as bi-gendered: A strong masculine persona, and and elegant feminine persona, both sharing the same physical body. I mostly present to the world as my male persona. That said, my inner lady sometimes needs to get out and enjoy herself; and I always make sure to set aside as much time as I can to let her take over completely. I find this special time immensely pleasurable, and quite sensual in a way that I never come close to feeling in “guy mode.”

When Renee comes out to play, there’s a multitude of wonderful feelings that wash over me as my energy and mindset shift from masculine to feminine, and just to name a few: that silky smoothness and softness of my shapely legs that comes from having them totally shaved; being able to wear a revealing top, or even a swimsuit with my chest and arms completely hairless and smooth; wearing delicate, sexy lingerie and looking just as good as the curvy model inspiring the purchase; being complimented by another woman on a beautiful dress; spraying perfume on my wrist and tossing my long hair over my shoulder; having doors held open for me (why on Earth do some women get all worked up over this? It’s awesome!); the sound of my stiletto heels clicking on the pavement, and just feeling extremely sexy overall from knowing that the sound is mine! Oh, and being wined and dined in girl mode, and enjoying all that goes with it, included being treated like a queen and tingling all over the whole time, is simply amazeballs!

I’m mostly attracted to women, and really enjoy dating them and being with them as a guy in a traditionally masculine, dominant sex role…but I’ll be honest. I have never felt attracted to men at all, ever, while in my male persona. And in most of my early years as Renee, I politely declined the attention of male admirers on more than a few occasions.

However, I’ve made an occasional exception for some incredibly wonderful, charming, and frankly well-built (and hung hehe) older gentlemen, who took an immensely active interest in pursuit of my feminine self, and treated me incredibly well. The further I got into discovering Renee, and how these handsome men felt about me based on the beautiful woman I was presenting to them, the more I was drawn to their flirting, and played along with gentle encouragement - rather than being repulsed by it as I would be in typical Mike mode. I learned to enjoy their attention and gifts from being something they desperately wanted, which gave me a special kind of intoxicating power once I accepted and embraced it. I found myself drawn to them, and their kind gestures, as things escalated and fully validated Renee’s womanhood, as a growing desire bloomed inside me.

Those experiences made me feel a whole range of things, from happy and secure while being held and letting them take the lead when we danced; the excitement that comes from being an object of desire and learning to enjoy the enticing nature of feminine sexuality itself, to all the resulting delights from being on the receiving end of so much unbridled passion.

Those stories are for another occasion though…the tale I am about to share with you all goes back in time about 20-odd years, to a fateful day when I was in sixth grade…

Back when I was a boy of about 12/13 years old, I was (and still am) very curious about the world and wanted to know everything about it. A gifted and bright student, I was in an advanced reading class with all the top kids in my sixth grade cohort. Growing up, I had moments when I would see things, or feel things, differently than most, on account of my high intelligence and inquisitive nature. I quickly learned how to hide most of these thoughts in order to better relate with the other kids, and learned how to live in my own little world while being a part of theirs at the same time.

One of the things I was often curious about in those days, given my budding interest in girls, was how they felt when they were dressed up in a fancy outfit - like dressing for a special occasion, and especially when paired with pantyhose. This was happening more and more frequently in sixth grade. Between our concerts, sporting events (which, starting in Middle School, required us to dress up prior to games), and various other competitions, the girls in my class wore some really beautiful outfits.

At that time, my buddies were mainly interested in video games, and girls as a concept; not so much what they wore or how they wore it. I was careful never to share how much I loved it when the girls in our class wore nylons, nor my observations of different styles and fashions, and knowledge thereof from occasionally borrowing my Mom’s magazines. My curiosity about how it felt to wear pantyhose with a dress or a skirt nevertheless still persisted. Oh, I should probably explain where that came from…

As a brief aside, when I was much younger, probably about five or so…I tried on a pair of my Mom’s pantyhose that were left on my parents’ bed, and absolutely fell in love with them. I was hooked from the get-go, and would sneak a pair to wear in a safely private place whenever I could. My nylon raids would often involve the dirty laundry, or seizing the opportunity whenever Mom forgot a pair in the bathroom.
Anyway, back to my sixth grade advanced reading class…

One day, my all-time favorite teacher, Miss Russo (who I also had a major crush on at the time) announced that we would be doing a special project: biographies of famous Americans, and when we were done writing them up, we would be presenting our book reports dressed in a costume to match with our American icons.

I remember thinking - wow, this could be really awesome! I could get one of the Presidents, or a famous actor like Kevin Costner, a rock star like Dave Grohl, or even Troy Aikman…the possibilities were endless.

The kicker was, we would draw our characters at random. I figured there was no way this could go wrong.
After sorting through my classmates in alphabetical order, I was called up to the front of the room, and stuck my hand into the top hat she used for us to pick our characters.

Miss Russo asked me as my hand shuffled around and drew out a name, “Well Mike, which of our famous Americans have you chosen?”
I opened up the little piece of crinkled up paper, my heart froze, and time stood still for what felt like forever: