We were just messin around in the bedroom and things got bound up from there...

It was just foreplay....

I write this story after the fact, having shared it with a few people all of whom thought I should script it before the details were forgotten. It all started as just a bit of foreplay. As a preface, my wife and I had ventured into the world of bondage some years back (ok...her more than me) and along with my lifelong cross dressing, bondage became a significant part of our sexual release.

We started simple enough. We were in a tickle fight and I was getting the best of her when for some unknown reason she grabbed the tie from my robe and, pushing me back on our brass bed, tied my wrists to the center post of the bed. That ultimately lead to one of the greatest orgasms we (or I should say she) had shared to date. That night I returned the favor with her tied to the bed. She didn’t enjoy it near as much and subsequently rarely allowed me to tie her down. I on the other hand, was to “have to get used to it if I ever wanted sex again” she would tell me about 4 months later. She became obsessed with bondage. It was, as mentioned above, rarely her but me who was tied, hog-tied, bound, blindfolded, gagged, posted, or anything else she could think of to do with or to me. It reached a point that I was in some kind of bondage 24/7. I wore small chains as ankle bracelets that were padlocked in place all the time (it was quicker and easier to get started she once said). During the winter, wrist chains would be added as I would usually wear sweaters (women’s) that had tight wrist elastic and covered the chain and lock from view during normal activities. At some point during this time, I found for her what I thought would include her in the “fun”, a woman’s chastity belt on an online auction service. As it turned out, the belt measurements were a bit off and it was a bit loose on her but snug on me. Guess who got to wear it? Ok I was at this time still “into” the bondage so I didn’t mind wearing it for a short while as a day at a time was all she could stand without something inside her (real) anyway. I did take it into my shop and made a few modifications before any extended wearing. I installed a stainless steel sheath with a catheter tube that went about 2 inches into my penis and ended at the bottom of the front shield (bottom of the crotch) in an inch long slit that allowed me to sit and pee with it sounding like a woman doing it. Having started with a woman’s belt, I now looked 100% female when naked and only wearing the belt (I had done hormones in the past and have “B” cup breasts).

This pattern went on (and got worse) for almost 2 years. As the sexual thrill would wear off of one thing, she would create some other thing to do with or to me. I’ll admit I helped at times as she would become moody and edgy if she wasn’t doing something (to me) but the proverbial “straw that broke the camels back” came not many months later. It was about 10 in the morning on a late spring Saturday and we had just finished our chores with the horses and had showered. As I exited the bath, I noticed she had laid out on the bed my silver lame’ bra/panty/garter set. I put them on along with my sparkling silver hose and silver 3” heeled strappy sandals then went to find her and asked “what she had in mind” in a sultry, Mae West style voice. Twenty minutes later, she had added my white shoulder length leather gloves (that lock together across the shoulders), white face gag (under the nose to wrapping under the chin and a tongue depressor style gag — locking behind the head), and white thigh cuffs. I was bound with my wrists cuffed behind my back; a 6” hobble chain between my ankles, a chain running from the center of the hobble chain up to my wrists pulling it taught, and a chain from the lock on the gloves to the lock on the gag that prevented me from looking down without significant contorting. She then led me out back down the path to the barn. I had no clue what she was up to and probably would not like it whatever it was. I couldn’t resist though as more than a slight tug on the chain from the collar around my neck would send me toppling over.

About halfway to the barn is a post we figured out had been used to “train” horses (ok break) having them stand in one place for extended periods. We arrived at the post and she stopped me. She then loosened the collar and turned it so the ring was now at the back, and secured the lead chain to the eye-bolt at the top of the 6’ tall post. She then placed my white leather blindfold over my head and locked it to the gag harness. She then left me there. Now THIS is kinky I thought to myself. I was thankful that our house sat back off the road and the barn even further, as unless you had a reason to be back here, you’d never see this part of the property from the road and we had no neighbors on either side to speak of (almost a half mile to each and over a small hill). I wondered how long she’d leave me here. Was she standing off to one side and watching? What was she up to!! Some time later I heard footsteps. Kat was coming down the path (better be her and no one else!!) and she stopped in front of me. She pulled my panties down below my penis and tucked them behind my balls, played with me a bit, then continued down the path to the barn. I heard the activity in the barn and assumed it to be feed time which meant it was close to 4pm. It also meant I had been standing here almost 5 hours! She past me on the path back to the house stopping to fondle my breasts and my penis for a few minutes just enough to get me hard then walked on towards the house. WHAT WAS SHE DOING!!

I felt the sunset crawl up my body as the warmth left the air. I couldn’t wait any longer. I finally had to pee and was glad she had pulled my panties down as I relived myself. Funny. Standing here like this I was not embarrassed, but having to pee I was. A definitive chill filled the air as night replaced dusk. It wasn’t that cold, but I was glad it wasn’t any earlier in the season. I heard a large truck going down the road out front. A few trucks used our road, but it probably meant that a neighbor about 2 miles down was coming home. That meant it was close to 9pm. When was she coming out to get me? My joints were getting pretty stiff at this point; the top chain would let me drop down only about a foot, and would also only let me step (shuffle) about 2 feet in any direction. The back chains wouldn’t let me drop my head, nor would they let me lower my arms from my mid back. Needless to say that during this time my mind had begun to run wild. I had no clue what she was doing but the whole scenario was driving me sexually crazy; the cold the only thing preventing a sexual release.

Sunday morning. I felt the sunrise cover me as the slight warmth began to fill the air. I had dozed during the night. I could honestly do nothing else. Sunrise meant it was a little before 7am. She would pay for this I thought. But the next thought was I hoped she was ok and something had not happened to her. Later I heard her coming down the path. I began to scream into the gag and stomp my feet what little I could as she approached. She stopped in front of me, pulled down the demi bra cup and suckled me. At first I tried to fight the feelings but the sexual tension was so strong I couldn’t.
Sucking on one and kneading the other I shot my load in about 10 seconds without even getting hard. She pulled the cup back over my nipple and walked on towards the barn to begin the morning chores. One person doing them meant it was about 9:30 as she walked past me back towards the house. This time she didn’t touch me. I again screamed into the gag and danced but knew it was to no avail. I hadn’t given it thought prior but now I realized I had been standing here and hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours but wasn’t that hungry. I just wanted to do something…ANYTHING but stand here another second. This long standing in heels that are locked on your feet made the calves numb earlier, but now ached with pain. The sexual release of earlier had been replaced with pain from all parts of my body. I was angry and getting angrier by the moment. THIS would be the last time for this nonsense. I began to fanaticize to get my mind off the pain……

We’re out to dinner in a nice restaurant. I’m wearing a gold lame’ backless sheath dress with matching shoulder wrap that hangs to my waist with the center open and just barely covering my very prominent braless nipples. Gold-tone hose attached to a black garter belt and my chastity belt are all I have on under the dress. I’m wearing 4” gold strap heels which are locked on and the lock is visible from the rear. Kat is dressed to the masculine side wearing a navy blue pant suit and to the unknowing it would appear we are a lesbian couple. We are sat in a back corner booth. Kat orders for me when the waiter comes for our order, and then feeds me once it arrives. Why? Because I am bound in the rear with a black satin arm glove and a large paper file clip (the black metal type) is attached to my tongue to keep me from speaking. The pain from my tongue I remember like the pain I have now. It’s not a fantasy… I realize I’m thinking about dinner about 2 weeks ago with Kat. She actually dropped my wrap off my shoulders revealing the bondage as the waiter was serving dessert. He got a hard on just standing there serving us! Plus, she didn’t replace the wrap till we were at the front door leaving. At least with my changes no one could tell I was a male under all that. It was bad enough being a female in that type of situation. I’m brought back to reality by my body. I have to pee again. This time I don’t fight it and just do it…the embarrassment long since past. More time passes and I hear Kat coming again. She stops and pulls my panties back up over my penis then walks away. This time I do nothing. Like a stallion tied to this pole I feel broken. Its feed time again which means its 4pm on Sunday.

Sunday evening. It’s been dark for a while as the cold on my skin is tingling. I hear Kat coming again. She stops in front of me and pulls my panties down again…this time about mid thigh to the thigh-cuffs. She begins to fondle my breasts and stroke my penis. I’m in no mood for fun but my body takes over and fully responds. As I get hard she impales herself on me. She is naked except for what feels like a similar outfit (bra/garter but no panties). Our bodies respond to each other as designed and I quickly forget my anger. As I can only receive from this position, I let myself go in the feeling. Kat is doing everything and her breathing tells me she is close to exploding. The milking she gave me earlier is helping to keep me from coming prematurely. She explodes first and is riding me for wave after wave of orgasm. I finally release as well into a long drawn out orgasm myself. We stand there for several minutes doing and saying nothing (ok she doesn’t say anything…) her just embracing me. After a few moments, she steps away from me. In quietness she removes my collar, then the blindfold, and in the darkness I can see she is wearing similar heels but to my surprise is similarly bound at the ankles and similarly gagged. She moves me to the side then quickly attaches the collar to herself then the blindfold, then bends reaching between her legs and grabs a pair of handcuffs draped over her thigh-bands, cuffing herself behind her own back. The handcuffs are attached to a hobble chain between her ankles. She has taken my place. I catch the drift and begin to hobble back to the house. As I enter I look to the wall clock...it is just after midnight. As much as I want to get released I get to the bed and collapse, still fully bound.

Monday morning. I awake a bit startled but quickly come to my senses. It’s almost 8 and my body is telling me to make my way to the bathroom…quickly. My panties are still around my thighs which help as I sit to do business. I shuffle into the den and look out the window towards the barn. Kat is stirring. Funny how I was there this time yesterday and if she thinks she is getting out of it any time soon she is sorely mistaken. I quickly realize that I haven’t seen the keys. I head back to our bedroom for a look-see and on the dresser is a note.

“My Love. I want to thank you for this weekend as I know you didn’t expect to spend it as you did. I treasure your love and devotion and so greatly do I not want to harm it I took your place. Leave me there as long as you wish for whatever reasons you deem necessary. Kat” “Oh…PS…the keys are in the barn!”

You’ve got to be kidding I thought to myself. It took almost 45 minutes to hobble out to the barn. As I hobbled past Kat she made a sound but I didn’t respond. I found the keys all neatly laid out on the table in the tack room. It wasn’t easy to actually see them as I still couldn’t tilt my head forward to see which one was which. I would have to bend down since my hands were in the small of my back to get the handcuff key first to be able to do anything. AND…since they weren’t at the edge of the table I had to dang near lay on it to actually be able to pick up the first key. It took about 10 minutes to get everything off and since I was out there I went ahead and fed the horses before heading back to the house. This time I stopped at Kat. I started with suckling her breasts then moved to her panty-less crotch for some massage action. She was melting quickly. I pondered should I continue or leave her un-satisfied. She made my decision for me as almost immediately she began to writhe against my hand. I finally quit after she had about 6 or 8 orgasms. I continued to the house but formulated a plan as I arrived.

I found the strap-on dildo she was fond of using on me and inserted the vibrator inside it then headed back down the path to her (mind you I haven’t changed yet, and haven’t even considered how I’m dressed). I reached her and it seemed she was assuming I was there to release her. I stepped up to her and inserted the dildo then strapped it on her. Her facial expression (ok — what little of her face I could see…should I say body language?) told me everything I needed to know. I switched on the vib and stepped back. Almost immediately she began to writhe and gyrate from the vibration. I’m sure I heard her scream at least twice before I got back to the house. I showered, went into my office and worked for a while then headed down to see her. The vibrator was running at a very slow hum so I figured the batteries were about gone. Since the keys for her were in the barn a well, I went on out and fed the horses a bit early then got the remainder of the keys and headed for Kat. I released the collar from the pole but that is all.
I lead her back to the house and just for fun, re-attached her collar chain to a plant hook on the ceiling of the covered patio. She wasn’t ready for that as she had to stand up pretty straight to keep from hanging herself. She started screaming again thru her gag so I went in the house, grabbed a new pair of batteries and, putting then in turned the vibrator back on. About 30 seconds later she began to seriously dance about from her orgasms and as near as I could tell actually passed out. I was glad I was standing there as she would have for sure hung herself when she went limp. I quickly released her and carried her into the bedroom, placed her on the bed and then released her from her bonds. She awoke several hours later and came out into the living room and sat with me. She at first told me (with a smile on her face) that I was evil for the vibrator bit. Then she said she had truly enjoyed the adventure and would love to do it again sometime. I told her she was crazy and I would never be placed into bondage ever again that I didn’t originate. I told her that if she didn’t stop this escalating obsession she would be doing it without me in the near future. That set her back in her seat. Almost immediately she began to cry whimpering about she had no clue I wasn’t enjoying it. She agreed to no more bondage unless I agreed to whatever we were doing. I almost relented a few days later as she was sulking about the house but I stood my ground. It took her almost 6 months for me to get her under control by limiting her bondage sessions but now we can both enjoy it again.

This leads me to part 2 of the story (or a 2nd story if you wish).

This past May she went to a horse auction in Kentucky with another horse-friend of hers. I was to have her out to Fran’s by 3 that Tuesday afternoon so they could get a fair distance by that evening and to arrive by Friday morning for the preview. We had finished our horse chores and I had showered while she was getting her things around. We were going to have some fun after she was done so I dressed accordingly. I pulled out my silver lame’ bra/garter set and my chastity belt, silver hose and 4” locking “FM” pumps. Then I put on my makeup followed by the locking face gag. I then put on my ankle cuffs with 6” hobble chain between, the center slider chain that I fed through the D ring on the bottom of the chastity belt that then locked to the 10” chain between my wrist cuffs. In this combination, I can sit and work at the computer for hours unrestricted but if I stand up; my wrists are pulled tight to my crotch due to the short drop chain to my ankles. At around 11 the phone rang (I’m certainly not going to answer it!) but Kat was in the shower shortly after. I thought nothing more of it until about 11:45 when the doorbell rang. Not in my abilities either I thought and continued to work. A mild bit of panic rose however when I heard Fran’s voice in the entry. A few minutes later Kat came bombing into the office. She smiled as she saw me (dressed for fun) then kissed me on the forehead as she said that she hoped I didn’t mind but Fran wanted to do some sightseeing along the way and wanted to leave a few hours early. With that I gave her a wrist wave, she left, and I went back to work.

About 2pm I got a serious case of the munchies so I headed to the bedroom to change and do lunch. We keep all the “lockables” in a suitcase under the bed since I stopped her from using them all the time (out of site out of mind) but the case was now gone. I looked in several places but could only figure she had used it to pack since it was on the bed from me getting my stuff out of it. This created quite a problem for me as the keys to everything I am currently wearing were in that case. There is a 2nd set of keys in the hall bath closet on the top shelf but there was no way I could reach them as I was currently trussed. I went back to my computer and sent Kat a text message hoping she had put the keys somewhere I hadn’t looked yet before she left. Two hours passed and still no response to all my (I had now sent 4) text messages. At around 4:30 the horses were getting noisy so I figured I’d go give feeding them a try. Between the hobble out to the barn, having to get creative with feed so I could get to it from a 3ft high level and the hobble back, it was almost 7 before I got back to the house. Still no response from Kat! I went to the kitchen and got an orange juice bottle from the refrig then managed to get a straw from a drawer by hopping on a small stool we keep in the mud room — that was scary!!. I then placed the drink on the kitchen floor and was able to slide the straw into the breathing hole of the mouthpiece (after about 6 tries) and at least drink something. I sat up till 11 watching the tube before giving up hope she would call or text back this evening. Wednesday morning I sent another message at around 6am then continued to work until 8 before heading out to the barn. I got back inside around 10 (I was getting quicker at hobbling) to find that Kat had sent 3 text messages back; first wondering what I was talking about…then realizing what I was talking about but saying she couldn’t check the case till this evening as it was in the storage under the RV…then a screen full of smiley faces saying she loved me. I went back to work till time to head for the barn again at 4 and when I got back in at 6 she had text’d again saying yes the keys were there and she would get Fran to stop somewhere in the morning and overnight them to me. Great…I would now be trussed like this till sometime on Friday. On the way back from the barn on Thursday morning I got a wild hair and ran thru a sprinkler in the back yard to get the horse/barn dust off me then sat on a chase on the open patio to dry off. I almost wasn’t able to get up and ultimately had to roll off onto the concrete to be able to then stand up.

I at least had work to keep me busy and my mind somewhat off my situation. I had had to defuse a few situations like clients calling and me not answering the phone. I would e-mail them right back with the lame excuse of severe laryngitis and for the most part they bought it. What I couldn’t get away from was Friday was a field work day and unless the keys made the morning delivery, I would miss a full day of “work” to which laryngitis wasn’t a good explanation. I was out at the barn when the overnight truck came up the driveway. I was filled with joy to say the least. When done in the barn, I headed straight for the front door (not caring how I was “un-dressed”). The package was between the front door and the storm door. Due to the height of the handle I couldn’t reach the knob to turn it so I headed back out to the barn to get a box I had been using to reach the feed table (no it never crossed my mine to use an arm, elbow or my head on the door lever…). I got a rope and wrapping it around the box, then drug the box behind me back to the house (this alone took over an hour as the rope kept sliding off). Package in hand I didn’t even wait to get inside but sat right there on the steps and ripped it open. Four keys. Four keys are good but I am wearing 9 locks. Four keys is NOT good. I started first on my wrists as without those the others were not much use. The third key unlocked my right wrist. The fourth key wasn’t a wrist but did unlock the drop chain from the hobble chain. Going back to the first two keys, one released the gag (thankfully) and the other must have be a shoe key, but a lot of good that did me as the shoe locks were under the ankle cuffs. At least I had arms, although one had a 3 foot chain on it, could talk/eat (yeah!) and my stride was now 12 inches instead of 6.

Going inside, I went to the hall bath and found the envelope with the other keys and was able to find a key for the other wrist but no others. The hobble chain was now giving me a problem in that it was dragging in between steps so I took the drop chain and re-attached it to the crotch D ring to hold up the hobble chain. I was back to a short stride, but better that than on my face because of it catching on something. Besides, I now had a key for the chain. I thought about jumping in the shower, but as it was almost feed time, I waited till I got back inside from that before heading to the bath. I half expected what I’d see but it was still a shock. Standing in front of the mirror I removed the bra and garter belt for the first time in 3 days. I’m sure you’ve seen a woman wearing a bikini at the beach for just one day and seen the tan lines that resulted. Well, let’s just say it will be a very long time before I’m out of the house without a shirt on. The garter tan lines as well as the 2 inch wide area at the wrists look pretty strange as well.

As it was still daylight, I figured what the heck and dressing in a black floor length Bohemian skirt (to hide the hobble chain) and silver blouse (to match the 4” pumps), re did my makeup (figuring the way I was dressed a female presentation was best) and headed for the first job I was supposed to have done today. Admittedly, it wasn’t easy driving hobbled but I found, like the other things, you got used to it after a while. The nice thing about the Friday jobs are is the properties are vacant and I wouldn’t have to explain my short mincing steps to anyone. I was only able to complete one job (out of 3) and figured I’d finish on Saturday. Kat and I talked that evening; she thought it was funny that I had put myself in bondage for her and she’d left me that way again. Now that I was not fully trussed, I could enjoy the moment as well, but reminded her I was still hobbled and wearing my heels. She commented that the shoes were old anyway, why didn’t I just cut the straps off from the locks? I was at first hesitant but a short while after we finished talking I headed out to the garage and using a pair of tin snips, cut the straps and was finally free from the 4” heels. I walked around barefoot for an hour just enjoying the flat ground. A while later, my feet actually began to hurt from the change in position. I ultimately put on a pair of 2” sandals for the rest of the evening.

Saturday dawned and it was wonderful to be free…ok mostly free. After a bit of office work and feeding chores, I put on the same black skirt but with a white tank top, over shirt and 2” sandals then headed out to do the last two jobs from Friday. It would have been nice to stop at the mall and shop a bit, but again, the short steps would probably attract attention. I did however have an idea during my outing. After lunch, I stopped at a large discount hardware store. Making sure to not arouse suspicion, I first browsed the kitchen areas, carpets and window coverings. After all, a woman walking slowly was probably not so much “shopping” in a place like this as creating a honey-do list and usually not noticed. I took a detour down a tool isle and lo and behold…I’m standing in front of bolt cutters! With no one watching, I picked up a pair and, lifting my skirt a bit, cut the hobble chain! Then I wrap the loose end around the still attached ankle (kinda looks like a serious ankle chain now), purchased the bolt cutters and 2 new padlocks then proceeded on with my day…at a much quicker pace. Oh…I did go to the mall and buy myself a pair of new silver heels. Once home, I cut the padlocks off the ankle cuffs and for the first time in 5 days took a long hot shower…almost fully naked (the chastity belt was still firmly attached as I couldn’t work the cutters with the lock in the back)

Sunday dawned and for the first time in a very long time it felt odd to not be bound somehow. Well, I can fix that I thought to myself. I dressed in a simple shorts outfit for the day for starters. Ok, more skimpy than simple. It was a white satin tie back and top halter top, and white satin short shorts with 4 inch white heeled wedge sandals. I then put on the wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, and white 2” collar. I first ran a chain from one ankle, thru the d-ring on my crotch and back to the other ankle. Then I ran a length of chain thru the collar and attached the ends to my wrists. This had me fully “bound” but fully free to do anything I needed throughout the day. Since the chains and cuffs covered nothing, it was simple to change into a gown that evening for bed without removing anything and I slept so bound as well. Monday, with work to be done in public, things had to be toned down quite a bit so the wrist cuffs and collar had to go. I left on the ankle cuffs/chains since they were under my pants, although I did remove them briefly so as to put on my hose and garter belt. The interesting thing was if I sat down, the cuffs were plainly visible. Just a bit of exhibitionist in me I guess.

Kat would be home Tuesday afternoon and for this I prepared like I had the previous Tuesday morning, but this time in full control of the keys. Ok almost. She still had the chastity key but I knew that would be quite quickly available if I knew my girl. Plus, I wore the same thing as I didn’t want her to readily see my “tan”…just yet. We hugged and kissed on her arrival, she not too surprised I had re-trussed myself. The bad thing was, she wanted to see how I did the feeding so naturally she ran down the path to the barn…with the keys. I had to hobble down there, show her how I did it, and then hobble back as she ran back to the house with them as well. I was rewarded for my efforts as when I entered the back door she was standing there naked holding the keys. The chastity key was used first. The sex that afternoon was incredible. It was late that night before the rest of the keys were needed…

Wrote this probably ten years ago and its been sitting in my files ever since so I thought I'd toss it on and see how it goes. First part of a nine part story

Miss-taken Identity

I had constant nose bleeds. So much so that my Doctor recommended this surgery that would (or should) stop them. My mom, tired of cleaning and replacing sheets or pillow cases 2 or 3 times a week was all for it. I just felt uneasy if you know what I mean. The date scheduled, the time arrived and I went to the hospital with my mom. Dad (as usual) was away on business but said he'd be thinking about me during that time.

The last thing I remember was being rolled down the hall when something went wrong at the other end of the hall and everyone went running that way. I'm not exactly in a position to do anything so I just lay there. Another orderly came back and picking up the chart saw where I was going and wheeled me off to surgery. They talked to me in there in a girly fashion...I wasn't sure why and was too drugged to care. The world spun into darkness a few moments later....

I awoke later in a darkened room. I wasn't sure what time it was or where I was at first. My face hurt. Not a severe pain mind you, just as if I'd lost a fight type of hurt. I could see thru swollen eyes (why were my eyes swollen?) the bandages on my nose...that I expected. But I also saw what looked like mountains under the sheet in front of me. What was that for? I couldn't see my feet for the what ever was on my chest...which hurt…what was wrong with me? I tried to move my hand up to my nose and chest but my wrist was secured to the bed somehow. THAT scared me.

Why was I tied down? I could kinda focus now and saw my mom out of the corner of my eye. She smiled at me said everything was going to be fine and I should just lay here for the moment. This was supposed to be out-patient surgery. Feeling like I did I couldn't imagine leaving anytime soon. I asked my mom how long before we could leave. She patted my arm and a few minutes later a nurse came in. She smiled and put something in the IV...I don't remember anything after that.

I think I woke up the next day; I'm not sure what day it is now. I see mom again off to the side. She is wearing different clothes so I know it’s at least the next day...maybe? Standing next to her is dad. Why is dad here? He’s supposed to be on a trip for another week...I go to raise my hand and I'm still tied to the bed. I finally ask mom "why am I tied down?" She smiles her very concerned smile and I feel like I'm in trouble...no...I know I'm in trouble I just don't know what or why. Not "in trouble" mind you...but something is wrong kind of trouble.

Then the Doctor comes in and doesn't have a smile on his face. Then a suit comes in and doesn't have a smile on HIS face either. Something is wrong and I'm pretty sure it’s with me. So I ask in no specific direction "ok...what went wrong with the surgery?" Mom starts crying and I know something is very wrong. Dad grabs my hand and squeezes it then steps back. Then the suit talks "We'll take care of everything once the healing is done and your family and doctors make a determination as to when the next surgery can take place".

Now I'm really scared. "What’s wrong with me? Did you find cancer or something!?" I say as reasonably loud as I can. Mom has stopped crying and takes my hand. "We need to talk Jamie". Great...I usually get that comment when things are out of control or someone in the family has died...like me. Everyone leaves except mom, dad and the Doctor. When everyone is gone, she begins.

"Somewhere between you leaving the prep room and the surgery room your chart was swapped with another and, well, you got their surgery". Now I was scared..."what kind of surgery did I get?" Mom squeezed my hand again but this time the Doctor spoke. "350cc saline implants and a slight cartilage change on your nose and cheeks". It didn't click...saline implants? What were...."BOOBS!!!?" I shouted. Mom squeezed my hand again and I passed out.

I'm pretty sure it was the next day...or maybe the next. Mom was wearing a different outfit so I assumed such anyway. I wiggle my fingers at her and she smiled. "How ya feelin kid"? That was a more typical mom sound so I felt better already. "When can I have my arms back" I said with a smile. "The Dr didn't want you bumping into things (glancing down at my chest) and in your drugged state start tearing at them" she said.

"He'll be by in a while and we can ask him if you can be released then" she continued. "When can I see what’s been done" I asked. "We'll ask him that too" she said. We small talked for a while, pretty much about nothing. I finally asked a light but what I felt was going to be a pertinent question considering the 800 pound gorilla that was in the room. "So...I guess your going to need to take me bra shopping soon huh" I said with a bit of a smile. "I guess we will" she said trying to determine how to respond with me smiling.

"You've been wearing one since you came out of surgery three days ago. That’s how they keep everything in place to start with" she added. "So what size am I" I tried to sound as light as possible. "You’re a 32C" mom said. "Same size as me" she continued. OK...I will admit...mom looked pretty nice in a bikini...and I was a bit mortified to think that I now would look just as “nice”. "So, why didn't they just take them back out?" I asked.

"I guess it’s more complicated than that" she said. "Have they said how long they have to stay in then?" I asked. "Yes" she said...and then looked out the window..."no less than six months and probably up to a year" she said still looking out the window. I felt my gut come up to my lips but it stopped and retreated. I was going to have boobs for a year....then it really hit me...I was going to look like a girl for a year.

It wasn't going to be hard to look like a girl. I had fought it for years. I am 17 now but still only 5'5" and 115 pounds. I had let my hair grow for the last several months as a rebellion thing. Just waiting for people to say "miss" or "madam" to me and I took great joy in correcting them. Now, they were going to be right. My girlfriend liked my hair long which is another reason I hadn't cut it before now.

Now I was glad it was long. I wouldn't look like a freak with short "boy" hair and big boobs. My girlfriend...Sara...this was going to be difficult to say the least. How do I explain this to her? "Wonder what I tell Sara" I said in the direction of mom. "She came by yesterday" mom turned towards me..."she knows". "AND" I said... "She said she's looking forward to you getting home". Well, that was a bit of a relief I guess. She doesn't hate me or at least will wait till I get home to dump me. I mean...how many girls want a boyfriend with boobs as big as their own? (I'd find out later...at least one!)

The Doctor came in about that time saving mom from more personal questions I had come up with. I waved from my restrained position and he smiled. "If you'll behave I'll let them release you in a week or two" he said with a smile. My eyes got as big as saucers I'm sure. "Oh...alright" he smiled as he walked over to the bedside and began to release my wrists for the first time in days. "But you are going to have to wear them like that at night for a while" he continued.

"How long am I going to have to be here" I questioned with concern in my voice. "You can go home today as far as I'm concerned. But I have seen cases where things like this have happened and the patent would become violent in their sleep and actually rip open their skin trying to get the "creatures" off their chest. So I have talked with your parents about your sleeping arrangements at home young lady and you will need to be restrained at night for at least the next two weeks to a month".

I guess I heard the next two weeks part but then my brain told me he had said "young lady" as well. But I guess that part was now applicable so I didn't try and correct him. As he released my wrists he said with a grin "they're not magnetic...so keep you hands off them" looking at my chest. But that is exactly what I did. To be bluntly honest, I gently felt myself up. Felt my breasts (yes "my"), felt my nose, my nose...I hadn't even asked about it.

"My nose" I said. "The work that was done on your nose should actually take care of what you were here for in the first place" he said. "What did they do" I asked. "It will be pretty when the swelling goes down" mom interjected. Great...I have boobs and matching pretty nose. For some reason I think I won't be looking like a boy at school for a while. "School" I said with a bit of shock on my face.

"What am I going to do for school?" It was the first week of March (spring break) and there were 9 weeks more school left. "We'll deal with that next week" mom said. The Doc hung around for another 20 minutes or so giving mom, but mostly me, directions on the "care and feeding" of my new breasts. He left and said he'd have the paperwork downstairs in about an hour so I could be home this afternoon.

I went to get up for the first time in 3 days and found myself attached to the bed down below. Then I saw the tube coming out of where my penis should be running into a bag attached to the side of the bed. That bothered me more than the boob job I think. No one had told me about that. "What’s that for" I asked. "Oh that"...he said.

"You will need to wear it for the rest of the week and when you come in for your checkup next Monday I'll see about removing it" he said. "How do I pee" I asked. "24/7" he said. "That’s the whole point of it. Your body is on automatic right now and we need to leave it there for a while. Once everything else is ok, we'll put you back in control". (I never thought to ask WHY it was there)

"How do I move around" I asked. "It will strap to your leg so you can do anything you need to...except wear pants". "So, how do I go home then" I said a bit sarcastically. "I'd suggest a dress or blouse and skirt" he said. Don't think you’re the only guy who left here in a dress. I won’t say it happens all the time but it does happen" he finished. And left.

I looked at mom and she just smiled. "Just relax...I'll go see what I can find. I'll be back in a while" and with that she pulled out her ever handy tape measure, took a few quick measurements, and was gone. I sat there for the first time in 3 days alone, awake, and un-shackled. I couldn't leave the bed since I was on a "short tube" you might say and I didn't know how to take it off.

I felt myself up again. This was very different feeling breasts and they're attached to your own body. I could see the mirror now that I could sit up and I saw a head with a bandaged face above a pair of sizable breasts on a slight frame. There was no way I was going to look like anything other than a girl for the foreseeable future.

About that moment Mrs. Morgan came into the room. “What are you doing here” I said with surprise in my voice. “I work here silly” She said. “Oh yeah…I forgot”. I replied. Mrs. Morgan was Joey Morgan’s mom. They lived 2 doors down from us and had been our neighbors since just after Joey and I were born. I knew Mrs. Morgan was a nurse, I just didn’t realize she worked here at the hospital.

“I wanted to be able to show you and your mom how to do this but I guess we can start with you and just give Mary an update when she gets back or come over later and show her” Mrs. Morgan said. With that she began showing me how to clean and change the bandage in my armpits. That’s where they did the implants from. I would find out later it’s the most invasive but leaves the chest looking totally natural, like nothing was ever done.

That’s why it would need to completely heal before they went back in and removed them. She then had me turn so I was sitting off the side of the bed looking at her. She unhooked my bra and let it slide down my arms. Suddenly I could feel all the weight on my chest and I actually leaned forward. I looked down at the two globes sitting on my chest then back at her.

“They’ll take some getting used to” she said. She then went about showing me a cream I needed to rub into the skin two to three times a day to minimize stretch marks. Then she went about changing the bandage on my nose, and as I was to learn as she removed the bandage, my cheeks as well. She let me walk over to the mirror while she readied the replacement bandage.

I wasn’t sure just what had been done, but while I didn’t look any different, I looked totally like a girl now. My face seemed rounder and smoother with my nose more slender but not pointy. I was still black and blue under the bandages, but now she was replacing them with small patches to cover the incisions as opposed to the near-full face bandage I had been wearing for 3 days.

Mom came back a short while later. I was sitting in the lone chair in the room as opposed to that dreadful bed. She smiled as she walked in, course, any excuse for mom to shop usually made her smile, but I think she had a bit more fun this trip; what with shopping for her new daughter. The things she pulled out of her bags made me cringe at first.

First was a long black/grey/white dress that had to be floor length and made of satin or something like it (charmuse), sleeveless, with wide straps over the shoulders. “I’m going home mom, not to dinner and a movie” I said with a smirk. “No movie, but we may be doing dinner as we go home by the time we get out of here” she replied equally sarcastically.

Next, she took out a pair of low heeled strappy sandals in black and then a pair of grey hose and a black garter belt. She had a wry smile on her face as she removed the last item, a pair of black crotchless panties. I looked are her with significant suspicion. She responded with “What...no son much less a daughter of mine is going out anywhere without panties on!” I just shook my head, some in disbelief that this was happening and some at my mother being …well…mother.

I stripped to my birthday suit, well, birthday suit plus the bra and presented myself to her. I was standing there as such when she got one of her thoughts and darted from the room, returning a minute later with Mrs. Morgan in tow. Mrs. Morgan looked at me and smiled. I wasn’t sure if it was a good smile or not but she walked over and began to remove the bra leaving me totally naked.

Mom then pulled out a black bra from the last bag and they began to dress me like I was a life-sized doll. Bra, then the crotch-less panties where Mom (and I) learned how to disconnect the tube from the bag and re-hook it up (to a smaller “walking bag”), then I learned how to put on a garter belt, hose and shoes, then the two of them helped me into the dress and zipped it up.

Mom then worked on my hair for a few minutes to make it look better than 3 day hospital bed hair but didn’t get to far to which she said we’d make a stop once we were out of this place…to which I agreed. The obligatory wheelchair ride to checkout and the front door, then to mom’s awaiting BMW…wait a minute…we don’t have a BMW…!

I am a cross dresser. Not being one to mince words we might as well get that out in the
open straight-away. I can almost say I always have been. My bike racing career started as
a means to hide my full time hairless body. At first it was just an excuse, but as I got
better, I spent more on my kit and then the bike and then the kit and…well, you know
how those things progress.

Being “fit n trim” for racing was a great way to hide the fact that “fit n trim” for racing
also allowed me to be a slender girl when the need arose. As such, this story actually
starts when I was in the 5th grade. But since that’s another story we’ll get back to why
we’re here.

It was a quick tuning ride. Across the park then down to the beach road to test the most
recent rebalance of the wheels/tires at speed. Usually a quiet stretch of highway, it was a
bit busier this afternoon. Almost too busy. I had just decided a speed run would be out of
the question when a car shot past me on the left and honked.

Honking cars are just something you get used to. Same for other slurs and not so pleasant
comments you get as cars blow by way to close for comfort. When “it” happens, I fully
expect it to be on a roadside from getting run over. I sighed and just decided to give up
and head home. What I would have never guessed was that “it” moment would happen on
my own street, and by a 4 year old no less.

Tina was the neighbor’s youngest daughter and the most active of all the Davenport
children. That child was always out in the front yard kicking, hitting or chasing a ball.
That fateful day was not unlike any other.

Except it changed my life.

As I said, I gave up on the speed run and was two houses away from home when all of a
sudden a ball and 4 year old come shooting out from behind a curbed car. I missed her
but my balance now off I rolled the bike right and into the rear quarter of a parked car in
the process coming down hard on the top bar and front brace. Quite effectively racking
myself.

I had done similar drops before and after a few minutes of excruciating pain, as before I
got up, picked up the bike (the front rim now quite bent, so much for $40 worth of tuning
and balancing) and walked the last 100 feet home. I sat quietly on the front step for about
10 minutes. In the mean time, little miss Tina came over and apologized for making me
fall off my bike. I just smiled and laughed at her comments, gave her a hug and sent her
on her way.

Later that evening, the black and blue bruise was bigger than it had ever been. My wife
Clair suggested an ice pack down there and while the cold was almost unbearable, it did
help the swelling. She got a bit kinky with it and tied my hands behind my back so I
wouldn’t keep taking it off. We didn’t get kinky that night if you think it lead to
anything…

Three days later it still hurt like hell. The actual pain would usually take a week or so to
go away, but the “hurt to pee” pain usually went away within a few hours to maybe a day.
It was when the “hurt like hell” pain lasted another 3 days and the black and blue was
spreading to inches up and out on my legs that I went to see the doctor.

“Oh shit…that’s gotta hurt” was his first comment when I dropped my panties (ok…they
were really plain black nylon so they didn’t look like panties but I digress). He poked
and prodded as much as he could then sent me down the hall for an x-ray. He came back
in the room about 10 minutes later and said he was sending me to an Endocrinologist who
specialized in “these things”.

“What things” I said. He just hem-hawed around and finally said I may have done some
damage down there. That scared me and the look on his face wasn’t all that reassuring
either. He did recommend that if I had to wear underwear I should get panties as they
would probably be a lot more comfortable for a while. Humph…get panties…I’m wearin
‘em chump.

I called Clair and told her the news so far. She met me at the Endo’s office and we went
in together. After about a 15 minute wait, we finally went into his study. Forgoing all the
un-pleasantries on how and why we were there, what Doc Mayfield had said/done, etc. he
finally said he had already looked at my x-ray. “That little girl may have saved your life”
was his next words.

Had the cancer (yeah that’s right, CANCER) continued unchecked it most likely would
have killed me in another 6 months. At this point, I “just” had advanced testicular cancer.
“They gotta go soon if you want to live”. Then he added “and we won’t know if we got it
all till we get there”.

He went on to explain that if severely advanced, it could have affected the penal tissue as
well. Great. At best I’m a Eunuch and at worst a Nullo. A fun way to spend the rest of my
life. Twenty Four and there’s so much more is how the song goes right? Well, at twenty
four I wasn’t sure what I had to look forward to.

He said we should go home and talk. Talk about what? Sorry sweetie, no kids for you?!
Hey…my panties are as flat as your panties?! I mean, get real here, we had no choice.
But we did leave. I think he just wanted us to leave and go talk, cool down, whatever just
do it away from his office.

So, we talked. Then, we changed into something less comfortable and went to dinner and
talked. We came home and talked. At 3 that next morning we were drunk and silly but
still at it. That’s when Clair blew me away. She just casually said, “If he has to take “it”
off, why not give you an “in-nie”?” My look must have been something because Clair
burst out laughing. “An in-nie you dolt, a vagina”.

I think I blew my wine out my nose.

I know my eyes jumped out of their sockets because I felt ‘em. “WHAT?!” I said rather
loudly and slurred. “If they cut it all off, you’re through with sex. But if there is enough
left to give you an innie, we can still have a lot of fun”. I was shocked by her comment.
My wife. With that comment. Yeah, I mean I know we’re sitting there in the living room
wearing kinda matching baby-doll nighties (hers pink and mine peach), but to go all the
way? Wow. I was floored to say the least. I really didn’t know what to say OR think. So I
just said I think we need to go to bed.

The next morning I had crazy thoughts in my head as well as little jack hammers running
full steam. I staggered into the kitchen at about seven and Clair was already dressed and
drinking coffee. I just shook my head. “Hey…I still gotta go to work. You at least have
the day off”. Oh yea. When all this started yesterday with the docs I called in and took an
extra day sick leave. Cool…

I had another appointment with the Endo at 11am and wasn’t sure I’d be able to drive
myself as hard as my head was banging. But I showered and dressed and by ten was
feeling quite a bit better. I drove myself to the Doc’s office with no issue. It was when I
got to his office I realized I had put on my dark blue girls skinny jeans, a simple white
Henley top and white tennis shoes.

I took off the bra sitting there in the car but was stuck with the lace panties if he was
going to have anther look. Oh well…at least I hadn’t put on makeup. Boy was I out of it.
The receptionist kinda looked at me funny which sent me to the restroom after checking
in.

Nothing looked out of place. No makeup, hair normal, earrings norm…oops…I had put
on earrings when Clair and I went out last night. My pearl on one inch silver thread drops
no less (well I said we put on something less comfortable didn’t I?). I took them out and
went back into the office.

I was finally sent back to see the Doc about 20 minutes later. I had been avoiding this
conversation in my head for the last two hours. He asked had I made a decision and told
him yes. But…

I spilled the beans so to speak about Clair and my conversation last night and the decision
I had made was to ask if the penis could not be saved then to make it an innie. This threw
him off. “Why on earth would you want to do that” he said with a cock of his head.
“That makes you a woman for christs sake” he continued.

I then outlined the thought process behind the Eunuch, Nullo or Woman ideas. Or as it
came out limited sexual ability, no sexual ability or plenty of sexual ability. He then said
I’d have to see a shrink first. I then asked him if I heard him right. If I wanted to be a
Eunuch or Nullo those were ok, but to have a vagina I had to see a shrink. He said yes.

This was stupid.

I continued that on the outside I would still be “me” and look like a man just fill (or not
fill in this case) my pants differently. He said it didn’t matter. I had to see the shrink. That
a vagina made me a woman in the States’ eyes and there were certain procedures and
preliminaries that had to be done prior to anything surgical being done. I couldn’t believe
it.

I left his office with an appointment with a woman Doctor he knew who could see me in
two days. I started to just go home and fume but ended up at the mall window shopping.
It was a tough day.

Clair got home that evening and I dumped on her the events of the day. To say she was
pissed would be an understatement. She made some calls and cleared her schedule for
Thursday to go with me to the shrink. She was thankful it was a woman, but still upset.

Clair came up with a real crazy thought for the shrink visit, go full fem. We considered it
right up till time to get ready then figured we need to present me as a guy that can be just
as strong with a penis or with a vagina. I did wear the tightest pair of skinny jeans I have
though. This pair makes it look like I already have nothing down there. Something that
did not go unnoticed by the shrink.

We had chatted for a few minutes when she makes the comment pointing at my jeans
“those have got to be painful”. I could usually tuck things away and while uncomfortable,
it was acceptable in a vanity sort of way. However today, after sitting in them for the last
hour plus, they had become quite uncomfortable. “Not normally, but today they are” no
since in lying I figured.

“No doubt from the injury” she stated. “But they are women’s jeans, correct?” Very
observant this one I thought to myself. “Yes, and usually comfortable” I replied
stretching the truth. “Being smaller, I tend to buy for fit and comfort rather than gender” I
added which was true but also stretching the truth a bit.

“I see” was all she said. The lines of communication were weak from that point on. She
didn’t really understand what my problem was and I couldn’t get her to understand the
situation. She seemed to have in her mind I wanted to become a woman and I was doing
things to interfere with the normal progression of the time table.

Clair finally blurted out that this was going nowhere and we’re leaving. So we did. No
sooner than we got in the car she had her phone out and was scanning the internet for
another doctor. “AHH” she shouted after about 30 seconds. “She’s not real local but deals
with transgender patents.” “I’m not transgender, I have cancer” was all I said in a rather
flat tone.

‘Face it, all these people look at what you’re asking for and think you want to be a
woman. So, why not just go talk to someone who specializes in Transgender therapy?” I
could see her point and before I could say anything she was dialing the office number.
Doctor Gail Raymond was not new to the profession and as she listened to Clair and
Chris over the phone she could feel both the urgency and desperation in the young voices.
She wasn’t quite sure but her gut told her to move so she told the couple to be there in an
hour and she’d hear them out. After hearing just a portion of their story if it was indeed
true then they would need all the help she could muster.

Clair and I arrived at the non-descript building about 45 minutes later. On the drive over,
Clair kept watching me squirm in my currently too-tight jeans. As we entered the
building she dragged me into the first available restroom and told me to drop my pants.
“Here? Now...I said with a smirk and she just gave me a raspberry. As I removed my
pants Clair was removing hers and with a quick motion grabbed my jeans and thrust me
her slacks.

She already knew the jeans fit her and that the slacks she had worn would fit me much
more comfortably at this moment. Side zip, no pockets and no fly, but fit (and feel) much
better then the jeans did. “Thank you” I said with a smile. We returned to the entry desk
and asked for Dr Raymond. At first, the receptionist wouldn’t send us in as she had no
record of the appointment.

After several attempts, she finally reached the Doctor, and we were sent up. “Third floor,
306, left corridor to the end on the left” the strange little woman said with a nasally
accent. We arrived and I opened the door to the small receiving room hearing a little
jingle bell announce our arrival.

We were just sitting down when a small petite woman in probably her late 40’s entered
the room. “Hi…I’m Dr Ray as most people call me” sticking out her hand and grasping
first mine then Clair’s. We were invited into her study where I recounted the entire story
up to the current moment. Dr Ray couldn’t believe her ears the supposed professionals
had treated me is such a manner.

After another few minutes of general conversation Dr Ray asked the young couple to
leave. “Let me make some phone calls” she said rather abruptly and ushered them to the
door. “Well” said Clair. “I thought we were getting somewhere and she just cuts us off”. I
looked at her dejectedly and we left the building.

We were about 10 minutes from the Dr’s office when my phone began to ring. It was Dr.
Ray and she sounded giddy as a school girl. “This is going to work out. Can you be here
tomorrow at 8am?” “Umm...Ah…sure “was all I could stumble out and with a simple
“GREAT” on the other end the line went dead. Clair and I sat and stared at each other for
a few seconds then at the same time shook our heads in disbelief. “She’s crazy” I said
with a smirk.

The next morning was full of apprehension as we prepared to drive across town. It was a
cool morning, so I wore a plain, androgynous burgundy long sleeve blouse and black
slacks with my penny loafers and Clair was similarly attired in a blue blouse and slacks
set.

We were standing next to each other in the bath (primping) when Clair turned to me and
said ”if your trying to make them believe you can still be a man after all this, I suggest
you look closely in the mirror”. I glance up and I see Clair and me. But with a detailed
look, I’m looking at two people, both possibly women; the one in burgundy appears the
more feminine of the two. “I see what your saying” and went and put on a plain pair of
kaki slacks and a green polo shirt.

The drive across town was eventless and quick given the distance even for a Friday
morning. We arrived shortly before our scheduled time and thought about just sitting in
the car till closer to 8 but ultimately neither of us could stand just sitting there. Entering
the building we were greeted by the same strange little receptionist. The greeting this
time was considerably different.

“Well hi there how are ya’ll? Go right on up they’re waiting for ya” she said with a big
smile. I looked at Clair and only said one word; “They?” “Oh, but go to the 4th floor
conference room. 3rd floor room wasn’t big enough” she added. I almost turned around
and walked out right then and there. Clair saw my change in body language and hooked
my arm saying “might as well see what she’s up to”.

We exited the elevator on the 4th floor and directly in front of us is a conference room full
of people. Dr Ray seeing us exit the box came quickly out the door to greet us. “Come on
in and let me introduce you” she said with a big smile. We were introduced to a who’s
who if you will of specialists and their assistants.

Dr Richard Conner, head of Oncology at the Ron Hopkins Institute and his assistant. Dr
Rebecca Meyer, Dean of the Psychology Dept at Emory and her two assistants, and lastly
Dr Mickael Verinopf, THE foremost name in Transgender surgery in the states today.

“My insurance company is not going to like this” was all I could think to say. That got a
light chuckle from around the room but was sufficient to break the ice. Dr Ray was the
first to speak. “If this were a normal situation then yes I guess it would. But its not. Your
comment and request depending on the outcome of your surgery has turned the head of
the local medical community on its ear”.

“While a concept considered in back rooms, offices and similar conference tables, it has
never been given serious consideration as a viable option to testicular and penal cancer
patents. Till now. What this “dream team” is here to offer you, us, is an opportunity to
research the options and outcome of such a surgery”.

Clair and I both must of had a “deer in the headlights look” on our faces as Dr Meyer
stepped in. “What we’re offering you is the opportunity to go first and at no charge so
your insurance company should be very happy” she said with a smile. “But like anything
free there are strings attached”.

“As a part of the follow-up, we collectively (she motioned around the table), for the next
five years will monitor your progress and return to life as a “normal” male. That doesn’t
mean we’re going to install cameras in your house. Just that instead of meeting with only
your Oncologist or maybe Dr Ray singularly once a month for a while, you will meet
with groups of doctors and students to discuss what’s going on, internally, externally and
emotionally”.

Dr Conner now stepped in “Testicular cancer is a lot more common than you may think.
Suicide amongst men who have had everything removed is also exponentially higher than
the norm just due to the loss of a sex-life. There are many men around the country, the
world for that matter, that if given this treatment as an option may find an ability to return
to a “normal” life including sex.”

There was a pregnant pause in the room so I finally jumped in “so why hasn’t this idea
been considered before”. Dr Verinopf now joined in “Because such surgeries have in the
past been considered extreme and for psychological reasons for transsexual individuals
only. In essence your request, if it became mainstream, would make the equivalent of
transgender surgery a viable alternative to the other current options”.

Opening my hands out I then added “so where we’re proposing this goes is you can either
have what’s in this hand which is no sex life or at best a difficult one or in this hand
which is a normal life and a normal sex life, just with different equipment”

“Precisely” Dr Ray now added. “So you see, while your thought was in the beginning
somewhat flippant, with the people seated here today it has been considered a potential
and viable option for quite some time. Till now, there has been no way to broach the
subject with patients without violating our given oaths. But since the patient in this case
has opened the door, then the potential for a study is at hand”.

“So, if our insurance company isn’t paying for all this, who is?” Clair asked. “We have
grants and funding readily available for such a study, just in the past had no place to
apply it” Dr Meyer injected. “We should be ready to go Monday morning if you can” Dr
Connor added looking at Chris.

I was in shock. This had gone from a flippant comment to a full scale medical study in
less than a week. The problem was, I was the lab rat. A thousand thoughts are running
through my mind why this may be rushing things but for some reason my mouth pops out
with “sure”.

Clair and I walked out almost unnoticed as all those in the room were busy with
discussions, phone calls by assistants; and other interaction. It was almost too much and I
needed to leave. Clair could sense I was disconnecting quickly and put her arm in mine
and walked me out the door.

We were almost to the car when Dr Ray came running out of the building.
“WAIT…WAIT” she shouted running across the parking lot. We stopped and stood
waiting for her. The look on her face as she ran up was one of consternation. That was
stupid I heard her muttering to herself. I asked what was stupid and she gave me a funny
look “I have this stupid phone but I ran all the way down the stairs, out the building and
all the way here. Oh well, look, I didn’t want you to leave just yet as we have some
details to work through in there with the group and I still need to talk with you and
Clair.”

We followed Dr Ray back into the building but this time up to her office. There was a
significant difference in the atmosphere between upstairs and here. Here was a peaceful
respite, upstairs felt like total chaos. “It will be best if you wait for us in here” she said.
“I’ll send someone down for you in the next 15-20 minutes when we’re ready.

It was about 30 minutes later when Dr Ray walked in the door. She shared that she sensed
I was overloaded with the activity in the room upstairs and apologized for not intervening
quicker. She went on that the Doctors had left and I would be meeting with the assistants
of each as we went back up. She offered to make it a ‘one on one’ if that would make me
feel better.

I told her we’d try it as a group and if it wasn’t something I could do we’d do something
else. We all sat down together, but I noticed quickly the questions came in like groups. If
one asked about our sex life, the topic stayed there for a while. This went on for about an
hour when I finally heard that wonderful sound; “just one last question” and it was a
doozy. “So, what the first thing you’re going to do as a woman?”

To this day I have no idea where the response came from, but I said “Pee”. That broke the
heaviness in the room and we ended on a light banter, shook hands or hugs and then as
they all left we went back down to Dr Ray’s office.

“You did quite well up there” Dr Ray commented as we sat down in her office. “We have
some final paperwork to go over and get to the attorneys so that all is clear and ready
before Monday”. For about 20 minutes it felt like I was signing my life away but she did
explain the forms and data pretty thoroughly. It was the last form that caught me by
surprise.

A name change form.

“Now I know you plan on staying the same person, but at this time according to the State
you legally have the rights, means and expectations to change your name. As a female,
which is what you will be in the eyes of the State, they expect you to have a female
name”. “Christina Reah Bronson” Clair blurted out. Nothing more than a feminization of
my given name Christopher Ray and so I nodded to Dr Ray an acceptance of my Wife’s
new name for me.

We spoke for a few more minutes then left her office and headed home. It hadn’t really
hit me what I was doing till we were about half way home. In three days, I was to become
a woman. Not just put on the finery, not just primping my hair to look as fem as possible,
but I’ll be doing it because I was one. I will now be cross dressing to go to work or any
other activity I normally do “in drab”.

“Will you still love me” I asked Clair. The look I got could have stopped a semi at full
speed. “That is the damn-dist question I have ever heard” she retorted. A moment later,
Clair took Chris in her arms and gave him the most romantic kiss she could muster.

“That answer your question?” she said. Chris stumbled backwards a few steps and all he
could get out was a “WOW”. Yeah…I guess so! And with that Chris took Clair in his
arms and the evening? Well, let’s just say that dinner came very late that night.

The next two days were of no consequence. As it was Friday afternoon, Chris called his
work and informed them that yes they were doing emergency surgery and yes he would
be out of action for at least a week, possibly two depending on how things went.

Chris’ boss was already aware of the accident and the other trips to the various doctors so
was quite sympathetic to what was happening between his legs telling him to “take all the
time you need”. Saturday was pretty much a normal day as was Sunday, the latter half of
the day Chris staying busy to keep his mind off Monday.

Monday AM. Chris woke hearing Clair already in the shower. It was 5 am and while
Chris knew he should be getting up the shallow desire to cover his head with the sheets
was strong. Clair entered the room butt-naked and jumped on him in the middle of the
bed.

Clair. Chris thought about her sitting there. She was a sole-mate if there ever was one.
Chris met her at a friends wedding 4 years prior. It was as they say love at first site. The
interesting side was that Chris was at the friends wedding as “Christina”. Few people
knew about “her” and Shelly had been a best friend having first met “Christina” when
they were in the 7th grade.

Chris and Clair were seated at the same table during the reception and ended up the only
two people at the table so a conversation was eminent. Clair didn’t realize that Chris was
a “Christopher” and not a “Christina” till they’re second date, when Clair tried to bed
“Christina”.

Clair, instead of being furious about the deception, was overjoyed that a partner could
(and would) be the best of both worlds. After that night, Clair and “Christina” became an
item, then engaged, then married within six months.

Admittedly it was Clair and Chris at the alter, but under Chris’ white ladies tux was a
virgin white trousseau of a white-satin basque, matching white lace & satin panties,
white pearl on rose patterned hose attached to the basque and his shoes were actually
white patent ladies block-heel pumps. His fingers were sporting a French manicure
and if you looked closely you might be able to tell he was wearing just a touch of
makeup.

The honeymoon was a different story. Chris and Clair left the wedding, but Clair and
Christina arrived at the airport. On the way to the airport Chris stripped off the tux in the
limo and changed into a white sundress with Clair doing his hair in a French braid. There
was no sign of Chris for the 4 days they were on the beach at Cosumel.

Four days on the beach also had an effect on Chris…his tan anyway. There would be no
outside time for him without a shirt for quite a while as the bikini tan he now sported
would take months to finally fade. Clair didn’t mind though. When they were naked she
would almost always play with the tan lines tracing them with her fingernail.

Over the next four years if Chris wasn’t at work or with family he was “Christina”. Even
when at work or with family he was underdressed always wearing panties, panty hose or
garter/hose and usually wearing a cami or slip top under his suit shirts (usually women’s
blouses). Women’s shoes were the best fit for his small and very narrow feet hence he
wore loafers or on occasion plain flats.

Chris also wore a woman’s watch as his wrists were quite small. A mans watch looked
totally out of proportion on his wrist. This was the only place where he semi-exposed his
lifestyle as his watches pushed way to the fem side of androgynous. All that said, after
four years Chris wasn’t really all that androgynous anymore. He owned no male slacks,
probably 90% of his tops were blouses with two of his four suits actually women’s. Plus,
when worn loose, his hair was to the bottom of his shoulder blades.

Sorry…got distracted. Clair…jumping on Chris. Well, you can get the drift where Clair
was trying to go with the idea but Chris’ body was having nothing to do with it. There
was still too much pain for things to “work” like they should. After a few minutes Clair
stopped and climbed off him walking over to her dresser and opening the bottom drawer.
“The Beast” as she called it. Her strap-on. In a few moments she had wrapped it around
Chris and rolling him on his side she buckled it, then rolled him back on his back and
mounted him. Chris, not being one to disappoint his mate did try and make it sound like
he was enjoying the effort she was putting in.

An hour later they did finally get a move on as they had about an hour to get to the
private clinic where everything was going to happen. Chris had resigned himself to the
idea that it didn’t really matter how much cancer he had or didn’t have, this group wasn’t
going to let this opportunity get away from them. He knew he’d be a cancer-free woman
by the end of the day.

This time not worried about what someone might think, he put on the burgundy blouse
and black slacks he started with last week over a black cami and panty set, as well as a
pair of black 2” blocked heel pumps over a pair of patterned burgundy knee-highs.
Clair came in the bedroom as Chris was putting on his shoes. She made the comment that
if he was going that far then either put on a bra or unbutton the blouse far enough so the
lace on the cami showed. He unbuttoned the blouse to mid-breast leaving no doubt what
he had on under the blouse.

They arrived at the clinic at the requested time. No one made a comment on Chris’
appearance or ambiguous gender presentation. All were very professional and simply
took him (and Clair) to a private room where Chris changed into the obligatory hospital
gown (pink) in preparation for the days “activities”. Shortly after, and with one last kiss,
Chris was wheeled down the hall on the gurney to the room that would change his life.

The surgery was, in the medical sense, a complete success. Chris over the next few days
began the ritual of eat, sleep, dilate, or it seemed that way to him or officially now “her”.
On the 5th day and happy with where things were going, the doctors kicked Chris out of
the clinic to go home and continue healing.

“She” convalesced for another week before going back to work. All that her fellow
employees were told was just a partial truth, that “he” had surgery for testicular cancer.
The women in his office were sympathetic to having surgery “down there”, the guys
almost stayed away from “him” like it was contagious or something. Course, Chris had
never really been “one of the guys” so they considered it “his loss” and one less guy to
have to fight the chicks over.

Chris was, as time went on, less and less sure of what she’d done. Oh she knew
something had to be done, and that was the only point that kept her from sinking deeper
into depression. It wasn’t like a “true” transsexual that considered loosing ones man-hood
as a correction to the correct genitalia and correct life. No hers had been in part one of
fantasy to be a girl, not the reality it had become.

At four months she and Clair started to “experiment” with intercourse. Naturally, every
one of the doctors wanted to know how it was going which made it that much more
difficult. When you’re under pressure, even to have sex, it just doesn’t happen. That’s
when Clair got her idea.

Long about the sixth month, Clair had the idea of just treating Chris like another woman.
Clair had had a “thing” with another girl in college (yes Chris knew) for almost a year.
She learned a lot during that time and never considered a hetero relationship, till Chris
came along.

She planned and set up her evening with great detail, including the mild date-rape drug
she got from one of the doctors. She wanted Chris to be out of it but know exactly what
and everything that was going on. Chris came in from work that evening to a dark house
with just s few candles lighting her way through the rooms.

Clair met her in the living room with a glass of wine…a spiked glass of wine. In about 20
minutes Chris was woozy but still with it, just where Clair wanted her. She took her by
the hand and led her to the bedroom, stripped her and then walked her into the shower.

Once there, she guided her into the shower where she washed her all over, and I mean all
over. Oh, I forgot to mention that Chris was handcuffed to the shower rod. Didn’t matter
though, she was enjoying the ministrations. Once finished, Clair moved Chris out into the
en-suite makeup area, where she performed a full makeover with her oohing and ahhing
as Clair worked. Oh…and Chris was now handcuffed to the chair.

After about fifteen minutes Clair was done and helping Chris up, moving her drugged
“date” to the bed. She sat her gently down and placed handcuffs on her wrists and ankles.
Chris made the comment that someone was feeling kinky tonight and Clair just smiled.
Next however Chris showed a bit of concern when Claire also put a ball-gag in her
“dates” mouth and a blindfold over her eyes.

Chris just took it in as she laid her down on the bed and with no resistance fastened the
cuffs to the four corners. Clair immediately went to into pleasure mode and in a short
time had Chris “feeling” something. The problem was, that’s all that happened. Chris was
definitely feeling something, but there was no progress.

After about 15 minutes Clair was getting frustrated. In kind of a last ditch effort, she
rolled off the bed and went and got her trusty vibrator. Inserting it in the girls new vagina,
she turned it on low to start. That got a reaction. Chris started writhing against her bonds.
Seeing this, Clair turned it up to medium.

That started a steamroller as Chris started moving like she was humping the bed with the
intruder. Writhing and screaming in her gag, after about another minute she collapsed on
the bed quite fully sated. Clair turned off the beast but left it in place and cuddled up next
to her love. After a few more minutes, she rolled over and removed the blindfold and gag
from her girl but still leaving her bound.

The pair fell asleep like that. Chris woke first several hours later needing to make a trip.
It took her a few minutes to wake Clair but after a few minutes of play (and Chris saying
several times she had to “go”) Clair began unlocking Chris from the bed, but only from
the bed, leaving the cuffs dangling from her wrists and ankles.

The “accessories” made it a bit difficult to get her job done but she managed. Upon reentering
the room Clair did notice that “glow” about Chris of a woman who had just had
an “experience”. “Chris looked at her lover/wife and smiled. “Thank you” she said in a
creaky voice. Did you enjoy it? Clair asked. Chris didn’t say yes, just smiled and said
“can we do it again?”.

“With or without the bling” Clair asked with a smile. “Oh with please, but no gag. My
jaw still hurts” and with that, Chris laid back down on the bed. Since it was difficult for
Clair to snuggle her lover fastened spread eagle, she just cuffed her to the center post of
the head and foot boards and began again as she had that prior evening. This time, Clair
started with Chris’ growing areolas, something she had noticed over the last few months.
Chris might not be taking any hormones (male or female), but her body was betraying her
original intent to remain a male just with a vagina.

After just a few minutes, Clair started with the trusty vibrator as well working it in and
out which threw our new girl straight into the throws of a very complete climax (and
quite the scream). “You make that much noise again and I’ll use the gag from now on”
she would later tell Chris.

Over the next several weeks, Clair’s “trusty vibrator” was used less and less as was the
handcuffs. Well, the vibrator anyway. One Thursday morning, together they put the keys
to the cuffs in a drop box and mailed them to themselves. Once home that following
Friday evening, they cuffed themselves to each other…naked. It was to be an interesting
weekend for sure. The only thing they hadn’t considered was bathroom trips, which
needless to say started out kind of awkward.

What made it more interesting was when the keys weren’t in the Saturday mail as
expected. At that point, they knew they were stuck till the Monday mail, hopefully. Both
called in “sick” Monday morning and sure enough when the mail dropped in the slot by
the front door Monday morning there were the keys. But it wasn’t till getting ready to go
out for dinner that night that they were used.

That weekend, Chris found herself. She now knew that all the effort for the last 6 months
had been worth it. This wouldn’t have happened if that one “what if” had been said so
many months ago. The two girls had been like bunnies all weekend. Since there were
never out of each other’s site, the sexual tension between them would only last minutes or
maybe an hour before they were screwing some how or some where or where ever they
happened to be at that moment in the house

The other thing that “finished” shall we say the journey was when Chris’ work lost a
huge contract two months later. As such, Chris was laid off. After that day, Chris never
put on another item of male-looking clothing. Not that he had looked very male for the
last 6 months anyway. But “Christina” became a permanent fixture in the house.

This was sealed on they’re next visit at 8 months with the group that had been monitoring
how things were going for the pair since the surgery. On every prior visit, Chris’
presentation was usually at least androgynous but usually to the fem side. For the meeting
after the layoff, Chris presented at the meeting in full girl mode. A very beautiful woman.

Wearing a soft pastel mauve and wine skirt/blouse combo and wine colored 3 inch stiletto
pumps, her hair which had grown to lower shoulder blade length now professionally
coiffed in a flowing feminine style and flawless makeup…dyed on. The group oohed and
ahhed the girl in presence and presentation.

She and Clair had just come from work. Chris’ job? She’d been hired directly as the CIO
of the company she had worked on they’re software for many years through the previous
employer. With a 6 figure annual income this girl was going to the top and these people
knew it. They finished the meeting and Dr Ray asked the couple to drop by her office. Dr
Ray congratulated Christina on her presence and asked if she needed a script to begin
hormones. Clair it would appear was happier than Christina on the recommendation but
both were quite elated at the request.

Not much can be said for the next few months. Christina continued to grow as a new
woman. Her confidence and strength were astounding. She and Clair’s relationship also
continued to grow and mature. The bondage was no longer necessary for Christina to
climax, but that didn’t mean it had gone away.

At the one year anniversary of the surgery (and one year of cancer free living) they had a
surprise party for Christina at the clinic. It was a “trail blazer’s” party, as in the last six
months 9 other men had undergone the same surgery to begin a new life after testicular
and penal cancer with Christina having been the first to “blaze” the trial so to speak. Six
of the men were settled in as where Chris had started, continuing to be a man but with a
vagina.

Two had already transitioned to female much like Chris had done recently and almost at
the same time in they’re healing process. It was often wondered by Dr Ray if Chris
hadn’t lost her job would she still be living the double life of male by day and female by
night. The last surgery recipient hadn’t been so lucky. His was a battle as his family
rejected him with his “new” plumbing and when his employer found out they fired him.

Course, the legal battles that followed is what wore the new girl down and she committed
suicide a week before her case with the employer was settled, for 2.5 million dollars. Her
children were at least set for a while. So all in all a new chapter had been written for the
sake of cancer survivors. Now fours years later over 200 men have chosen the option for
SRS as opposed to death, eunuch or nullo status with a 97.4% success rate.

And of our heroine? Well, remember she had a sperm donation right before the surgery?
Well, last month Clair gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. The girls named him “Ray”.
Clair is now a stay at home Mom and Christina? She was named “Up and Coming CEO”
by Business E-Zine last week. Oh, and for what started it all? Christina never did fix that
bent bike wheel. Instead, it hangs on the wall in her new office and has a story to tell to
anyone that asks.

The Play

It's amazing how over life's courses that you forget many an occurrence that at the time were important to you. This is just such a story and memory, one from a long since forgotten time (but thats what diaries are for right?).
I had had my "awakening" during the summer 2 years prior at my Aunts, having spent 3 weeks as a budding 10/11 year old girl (my birthday was during the time I was there). For several months after, I drove my Mom crazy asking for panties, dresses, nightgowns, etc., with the return being an assortment of odd, angry or puzzled looks most of the time. She did finally purchase me a pair of panties (for sleeping she said) and for that following Halloween permitted me to go out dressed as a girl. Nothing more was ever said by her, and I didn't really pursuing it any further.

Then came the 6th grade "play" the following year.
It was a part of a play by Shakespeare is all I can remember (what part/play for some reason I didn't write in my diary). I was to play a Nobleman or something like that.. (heavens that was over 40 years ago..) but per the teacher the costume was to be as "Victorian" ("Renaissance" as its known today) as you had, could make, or whatever. Not being one to splurge on such items, my Mom wasn't quit sure what to do, but knew she wasn't going to buy something for a one time thing and would dig something up.

My sister who is 3 years older than me had been given a dress the year before which she said didn't fit -- to small she said, but was too pretty for my Mom to get rid of. The dress was off-white and made of satin having a lace, Victorian style high ruffled collar, long lace sleeves which ended in satin and lace cuffs and ruffles at the wrist, and a lace overlay over the entire dress....and it was short..which may be why my sister said it didn't fit right, as she never has liked anything really short OR lacy. The best part was it fit ME perfectly as she was still a bit bigger than me even then with the hem hitting me mid to lower thigh. The dress, and a pair of black satin pants (also my sisters) with a pair of her black Mary-Janes would make up my "Renaissance" costume. Or should say Victorian, but hey, its the 6th grade and I looked like almost everyone else (boys AND girls). The pants were baggy enough to hide the bottom of the dress when it was folded over near my hips so that on stage, it looked just like a fancy nobleman's shirt. After the dress rehearsals (last 2 Fridays before the "big show"), Mom was there to recover the clothes so that no harm would come them (lest I get them dirty..like I would wear them on the playground somehow...right).

The Wednesday night "parents performance" was when things started. I'd worn the outfit for the play and we went home. No big deal. On the way home Mom said she wanted to get everything cleaned again before the Friday morning whole-school performance..why I'll never know but thats a Mom's prerogative right? Not long after we got home we got a call from my Aunt (not the same one that created Jennifer) telling her that Granddad (Mom's dad) had died that afternoon. This broke her up pretty bad, and she began to make arrangements for she and my sister to fly out the next day (Thursday). I would drive out with my Dad when he got off work on Friday night especially since Mom didn't want me to miss the rest of the play Friday morning. I went on to school the next morning as she and sis prepared to leave, Mom reminding me that she would still get the dress and pants cleaned before she left and it would be hanging in the closet for me before she left...she promised.

Now one thing you have to understand..when Mom said something was going to be hanging in the closet, she meant EVERYTHING would be there. If she recommended you wear something, you'd better put on what was hanging in the front of the closet. If she told you what to wear, then you'd not only find what she said hanging in front, but everything else as well (underwear, socks, tie--yuck, etc) all in a brown sack usually clothes-pinned to the hanger.. and you'd better not come out of your room wearing ANYTHING else.

Mom and sis were already gone when I got home that afternoon from school, but sure enough, there in the front of my closet hung the dress, pants and a brown bag clothes-pinned to a hanger next to it, with the Mary-Janes parked underneath.
Dad and I scrounged supper that night, played with the trains, then went off to bed. He asked me if I wanted him to get me up the next morning before he left (about 5:30am) but I said it was all right and that I would manage.

Friday Morning

The reason I didn't want Dad to wake me, was I went into my sisters room before I went to bed and "borrowed" a nightgown. With Mom and sis not there to wake me up, I could wear it for breakfast too! After I ate, I took a shower and then headed for the closet. "Careful with the bag" I could hear my Mom's voice in my head.."I'll use it again later"..I smile and wonder how she and sis are doing. I take the clothes down and lay them on the bed to get dressed and then open up the bag.
I remember confusion..in the bag was everything allright..but I wasn't sure for who. In it were a pair of panties, a bra, slip and tights (packaged together as a set in matching off-white) and 2 letters, one for me and one for my teacher. I opened the letter to me, and my Mom had written for me to "have a good time and do a good job...hope this is what you wanted". I dared not open the one for my teacher, and even with her not around I didn't even think of disobeying the past commands of "thou shalt not wear anything else other than whats in the bag" from Mom. This was too strange though. Was Mom so distracted by Granddads death that since she was handling a dress and had been in my sisters room that she just packed a bag for her by mistake? No.. the things in the bag were MY size..not my sisters..and they were new. She must have flipped or not noticed the bra in the package or who knows.
I had told her the dress was still scratchy on the inside in a few places on Wednesday night and was hoping for a slip..but this was beyond my dreams. Not to waste such an opportunity provided by my mother no less, I put on the panties, bra (it was a training bra..but I had learned not to complain about whatever was in the bag..and this I was diffenently not going to complain about!), tights and slip and paraded around the house for quite a while. I also remember almost being late to leave for school. I quickly put on the rest of the outfit and darted out the door. It was usually a boring 15 minute walk to school, but I didn't care today, as I knew I would enjoy it.

I got to school and gave my teacher the letter which, when she finished reading it said she was sorry to hear about my Granddad and would miss me on Monday (neat..an extra day off!). She also said the letter said for me to give her my pants as soon as the program was over (Mom was really scared I was going to mess up these clothes for some reason). Well, the program was done and those who had stuff went to change but in my rushing out the door I forgot to bring anything to change into. I told my teacher about not having anything (to change into) and she said that nothing was in the letter about me changing and that all the letter said was for her to get the pants from me, and nothing about the rest of the outfit so she assumed I was to just wear it, especially since I was wearing such a complete outfit with tights that matched so for the time being I should leave it on. So I went back to class wearing the dress. Lots of the kids were already back in class and still in their outfits (including one other boy still in what he said were his sisters clothes), so I don't remember anyone saying anything to me as I'm sure everyone had heard the teacher say for me to give her the pants when we were through with the program at the beginning of the day.

My teacher was understanding that me not having anything to change into might be an oversight on my Moms part (and not on mine..), so she went to the gym and got a T-shirt and shorts. The dress was longer than the shorts and besides, the zipper was now stuck about 2 inches down from the top. So she zipped it back up and said she was sorry but I'd just have to make do for the day. Most of the kids were sorry for me being stuck in a dress all day (but did I mind?!).
At recess I was told to stay with the girls and other kids who hadn't changed yet so I wouldn't get my dress dirty. I went over to where they were and sat down by myself when a girl who's Mom hadn't shown up with her clothes came over and sat down with me. She was one of the "stars" in the program and had a fancy dress and stuff that she was still wearing. We sat and talked the entire recess. Now talking wasn't out of the ordinary for me, but this girl wouldn't even say hi to me most of the time, so for her to come up and want to talk was different. I don't remember the conversation (and didn't write it in my diary..probably the usual "like your dress, sorry your stuck in it, so neat I wasn't complaining like a baby about it), but I do remember that from then till we graduated high school we stayed fairly good friends.

At the end of school, I asked my teacher about the pants. She said she was to hold them till Mom picked them up on Tuesday (per the letter). I said OK and left. Now walking to school in the whole outfit was fun, but walking home like this was a blast! When I got home I worked (as best I can remember anyway) with the zipper but watched TV and stuff till my Dad got home and I told him about the stuck zipper. He was a bit surprised to see me still dressed the way I was (I still had on the makeup from the program and some "extra" from a few of the girls at the 2nd recess) and with his huge hands and fingers could do nothing with the little zipper. He finally got hold of Mom about an hour later (he had wanted to be on the road long before now) and told her about the zipper as well. She was surprised that I had worn nothing but the dress all day and told Dad for me to just come as I was and she'd fix it when we got to Grandma's. She also told him to tell me to change shoes to the ones that went with the dress. They were the same off-white but were much nicer than the Mary-Janes with a bit higher and narrower heel and no strap across the middle (2" pumps).

As Dad and I left, he was a bit worried about me and how I was dressed saying several times he was sorry he couldn't get the zipper unstuck. A few times when he said something to me he called me by my sisters name as well..then apologizing saying that dressed this way I just looked like her(except for my shorter hair). He treated me a bit different than normal as well the entire trip. No roughhousing or kidding around, but kinda gentle-like (like he would my sister). When we stopped for supper, he held open the door to the restaurant for me...and same for breakfast.

We got to Grandma's at around 10 or 11 (I think it was..before lunch anyway) and Mom fiddled with the zipper for a while but never once commenting on how I was dressed (including the bra, which she had to notice as she worked on the zipper). We had gotten there late, and the funeral was a-ways away so she said I'd just have to go as I was (that's why -- she told me later--that she had me change shoes). Since I was allergic to flowers, I didn't go into the funeral parlor anyway and sat outside with my Aunt (the one that DID get me started as Jennifer). When the funeral was over, my Aunt asked my Mom if I could just come to her house till things were settled down at Grandma's and she said OK. We got to my Aunts and had a late lunch, then she worked on the zipper for a while and finally got it loose and freed me from the dress. She said I should go and take a bath, as a long soak might feel good to me.When I got out, my Aunt had clothes laid out for me on my cousins bed. A simple outfit of a yellow blouse and white knee length skirt, with a white bra and panties, knee-highs and white sandals. I don't remember saying anything, just putting them on and shortly after we went out to dinner. I borrowed a gown for the night that night and slept with my cousin.

The next afternoon (Sunday) we went down to my Grandma's house after church. I wore the same outfit to church, and when we got home, my Aunt gave me a pair of my cousins white pants that zipped up the rear, a dark blue peasant top and a pair of flat strappy sandals to wear back to Grandma's (seeing a photo recently of this gathering is what brought all this back to memory) . Mom didn't say much about how I was dressed (again), just looked at me kinda funny then smiled and gave me a big hug, thanking me for coming and apologizing for the problems with the dress. When we were alone, my sister made a few comments but nothing in front of Mom or Dad. I wore that outfit on the drive back home. Mom let me wear the top and pants every now and then after that (but just around the house) till I out grew them, while the lace dress (and matching shoes beneath it) remained hung in the back of MY closet for a long time. The panties (both pair) stayed in my drawer for a long time as well and I was allowed to wear them around the house and for bed but I never saw either bra again after I took off the white one once we got home. The sandals she never said a word about and by the end of that following summer I had worn them out!

I know "The Play" is not a real good title for this story, but it is what started a wonderful weekend for me, even if it was surrounded with tragedy.
Jennifer