How I Became a Queen             by: Deborah Leigh Johnson

 

I remember the situation perfectly, afterall, a number of events that had been occurring, all culminated into one, into a set of cricumstances that changed my life.

Let me describe some of the circumstances for you.

To start with, I had been going with the same girl, a very foxy lady, from the age of nineteen to twenty-three. We had met in college and moved in together, and, after college, we just prefer-red to stay together.

I was two years ahead of Carol, but, she just came on to me, and I responded. I was not used to having pretty girls come on to me, and, in truth, I was not used to friendships with girls at all.

When Carol asked me one night at the campus pub, to dance with her, I was flattered. You see, I am very slight of build, and, I had been cursed with a pretty face. Most people even mistook me for being a girl. Because of that, beginning very early in life, I developed for myself a very masculine personality. I was so macho, I turned the girls right off, because, I was usually very vocal, and somewhat sexually agressive.

I always felt like I was playacting though. I never felt like a real person. I guess most of the girls that I came onto either thought that I was just to gross to have around, or, they saw right through the playacting, and knew me for the phony that I was. I had guys come onto me, but, I always put them off. The funny thing was, I put them off, because, I did not want anyone to think that I was a queer. Life was hard enough without, without living witht that brand on me as well.

I knew an effeminate boy from my neigbourhood, and, I saw the way he was treated. I knew, deep inside of me, that I would not have the courage to live with that. I secretly admired him, but, I was also so scared of what people would think of me for those thoughts, that, I joined the others in their ridicule of him.

When Carol asked me to dance, I responded with appreciation. When we had danced quite a few dances, she joined me at my table, and told me that she had seen me around, and that she had wanted to meet me.

Of course, I asked her why, and she told me that it was because I was so cute. When she said it though, I did not feel ridiculed, like I usually did with a girl. I felt flattered.

Over the next three months, Carol showed herself to be very lively, loving to have new experiences. Something else that I admired, was that she just naturally seemed to take the lead in most of the things that we did. It happened so gradually, that neither of us realized that she was doing this.

We realized what was happening one night though. She was in her second year of psychology, and we were talking about how hyp- notism worked. I had taken the courses also, but, I was not really convinced that an intelligent person was able to bet hypnotized. She had become convinced that that was the only real way to disc-over who you really were. The idea was to use hypnotism to knock down your conscious barriers and conditioned predjudices, to release the unconcious schema that a person had. She was convinced that if the schema were uncovered, that a person would be really real, because, there would be nothing hindering them from from behaving according to their most secret concept of themselves. The idea of a moral judge, such as the superego, did not seem to carry a lot of weight with her. She felt that people were amoral because of perverted super egos.

It so happened that, at this discussion time, we were also watching MTV. As was usual, the rock stars were performing. Also, as was usual, you had to look for signs, to know if it was a guy or a girl.

Carol floored me.

"You know, I bet most of those guys wish that they were really girls."

"What.....?"

"Well, they act like guys, but, look at them...they sound like girls, they look like girls, and, the clothes they wear, could easilly be worn by girls also. There, look at that. See, he has at least an inch of lace on his shirt cuffs, and a ruffled shirtfront, just like a girl’s blouse. In fact, he probably borrowed it from his girlfriend. There, see, that guy is wearing eyeshadow and lipstick. I bet that their girl friends act like the guys, when they are in the sack. UMMMMM....."

"Ummmm what?"

"I wonder who wears the pants at home, in their private lives."

"That is ridiculous, Carol." For some strange reason, I was extremely uncomfortable with the direction of this discussion.

Carol, being as astute as she usually was, picked up on my discomfort. She stared at me for a long moment, not saying any- thing, but, I could almost hear whatever thoughts were rolling through her head.

I waited for nearly fifteen minutes, till I could not stand her silence any longer.

"What are you thinking, Carol?"

"About us."

"And, what about us?"

"Well, you won’t like what I am thinking, but, it is the truth."

"What is?"

"Well...I have the male role, and you have the female role."

"That is ridiculous."

"Is it? Who is it that decides when we will go out? Who is it that decides where we will go, and I am always the one who decides when we leave wherever we are. When we make love, it is always I who start it. When we make love, you lie on your back, and I like to be on top, like the guy. Even when I first met you, I did what the boy does, I came onto you, you did not come onto me."

"Then, if that is really true, you are just as perverse as I am."

"I don’t think it is perverse. Look at the way you keep your apartment. It is very clean, and, it has a homey atmosphere. Normal guys don’t do that. I think that that is commendable, not perverse."

"What are you saying...that I’m a faggot?"

"No....but...it seems to me, that you have a feminine side to your nature, that you are denying. If that is true, then, you are a fake."

"Well, so are you."

"No, because, I act the way I am. You’re not doing that. You try to make everyone think that you are the great macho character, but, there are many traits that give away your inner self. I bet that if you were hypnotized, you’d be able to start enjoying life, instead of always trying to do what someone else wants you to do."

I started crying, and I could not stop myself. Carol cradled me in her arms, lovingly. She held me for nearly half an hour.

"Well, will you try it?"

"Try what?"

"Let me hypnotize you."

"Do you really want to Carol?"

"Yes."

"What if you don’t like what you find? What will I do without you?"

"Listen, no one does what they do not really want to do any-way. All I want to find out, is, who my boyfriend really really is."

"I....I’ll do what you want..."

"Good. Tommorow is the last day of school for a week. I will tell my parents that I cannot come home this easter, and I will stay here, with you. I’ll come over around four, tomorrow after- noon, and we will try it." She seemed elated. She kissed my cheek and left in a few moments.

The next afternoon, when I got home, Carol was already there. She seemed to be absolutely delighted about the experiment, and, almost as soon as I walked into the room, she had me laying on the couch.

I had agreed, as I really did not think that she could hypno-tize me anyway, so, I went along with all of her suggestions. Boy, was I in for a surprise.

In a flash, I became aware again, of my circumstances, and of some other things to. It was very confusing, but, I also have to admit, that it was very delightful. The first thing that I was aware of was a sense of daintyness and vulnerability. I felt euphoric. I felt like I had finally become my real self, and, in that, was a terrific sense of being free for the first time in my life.

I was sitting across from Carol.

We were in a restaurant.

I knew I was dressed as a girl, that is, I was wearing a dress, and, my mind suddenly filled with the memories of having Carol dress me, from the skin out, in some of her clothes. She smiled at me, as I became acutely aware of the delightful sensa-tions of silk underwear, then nylon stockings, the tight corset-ting, the pressure of the high instep pushing up into my arches, the scent of my perfume, and the delicateness of my attire.

"I...I don’t understand....Carol....why?"

"Admit it, first...you love it...you feel better at this moment than you have ever felt in your life...admit it."

Before I could stop the words, they gushed out of my lips.

"I adore the feelings I am experiencing."

I blushed with the shame of admitting to such feelings, but, I could not bottle up my feelings. Nervously, I shifted in my seat, feeling the cool air on a new part of my leg. I loved the rustle I heard as I moved. My fingers had long red nails, and looked like someone elses hands. I just knew I was wearing makeup. I felt my earrings.

Carol was dressed to the nines, as well. She was gorgeous. I felt a painful straining in my silk panties. This was the most erotic experience I could ever immagine. I wanted her to take me home, to rip off my panties and to ram herself down on top of me.

"Karen-Anne, rest now."

I did.

I again became conscious when we were back in her apartment.

I was laying on the bed. My wrists and ankles were secured to the bed posts. Overhead was a mirror. I stared up at the pretty girl bound on the bed. I watched her breasts raise and fall as she breathed. She was wearing a pink dress of some shiny material, with a frothy white slip peekeing out from under the hem. I would have liked ot make love to such a girl, helpless as she was.

It took nearly five minutes for me to realize that I was looking at my own reflection. The front of my dress rose in a bulge, as my awareness sparked my excitement. A crimson glow spread itself over my cheeks and down my bare neck. I loved being such a girl. I remembered seeing these sleeves on my arms and that pink chest, when I was in the restaurant. I blushed as I thought of a restaurant full of people seeing me dressed like this. Also, was a deire to be identified by strangers, as a girl.

As I lay, my memory was sparked, remembering all of Carol’s subconscious commands to me.

"You will be called Karen-Anne Brown. You will wish to be a girl from now on. You will experience acute shame, because of this perverse desire that you have. Every waking moment, you will envy pretty girls, for the estrogen flowing in their blood. Every time you see me, you will envy me, and crave to be dressed in my cloth-ing. You will do anything to be allowed to wear feminine styles of clothing. This craving will be a constant source of humiliation to you, and, yet, that very humiliation will be a source of secret ecstacy for you. You will always, around pretty girls, seek to act in a submissive way, always preferring for their dominance over you. You will always feel inferior to them, and seek to emulate them, in thoughts, actions and dress, on every occaision. You will even act like a girl around very masculine men, and, you will get a sense of betrayal of your boyhood, because, you want to put on a dress and treat a man the way that he should be treated. You are not able to stop this behaviour, untill I release you from it. You will adore me for releasing you into these feelings, because, you were too much of a cowardly sissy to do this of your own accord. You will always be thankful to me for opening the unconscious door of your psyche, to release your feminine personality. Every chance that you get, you will dress up in ladies clothing, and you will try to behave like me, as an act of love for me. If I decide to marry you, you will beg for me to let you be the wife, and, though greatly ashamed of these desires, you will crave to live out the feminine role in life, as the only complete role for you. You no longer want to live like a man, at all. Because of your ability to identify with both the sexes, albeit preferring the feminine one, you shall have a reward. The reward shall be that you will experience truly complete and fullfilling orgasms, tinged with the secretive cravings you have to deny your anatomical sex, and live the life of the sex you can only immitate. This reward shall only be yours when you are dressed in the garb of a young woman."

Those words crashed through my mind, and, I welcomed them, with fear and shame, I welcomed them. The bulge in the front of my dress was moving. My feelings were causing the most intimate and sensuous feeling that I had ever had in my life. I felt like I was one, with Carol. I abondoned myself to these feelings, feeling like the luck-iest girl in the world.

When Carol came in, she sat on the bed, gently rubbing the bulge in the front of my dress, and asked me to repeat the hyp- notic suggestions that she had given me.

I did, exactly, word for word, the way I had remembered them. All the while, I squirmed, a totally submissive, waiting for someone else to bring me to orgasm. I felt so helpless, as I tugged at my bonds. Excitement over wearing a pretty dress and all the lingerie that a girl wears, seemed to completely overwhelm me. It was as though the only way I could feel alive, sexually, was to be the girl, and wear girl’s clothing. At the same time, adding to the eroticism, was the knowledge that I was confessing with my mouth, to this girl, that I could only be happy if she let me wear her clothes and pretend to be like her.

Carol was pleased when she heard me.

She smiled at me, and told me that I was too pretty to be a guy anyway. I watched in the mirror, as she raised up my dress, then my rustly white slip. I saw that I was wearing pink petti-pants, with lots of ruffles over the front.

When she lowered my panties, I gasped. I had the largest erection the I had ever had. It throbbed with its aching intensity.

I swooned as I watched her fingers dance over the length of the shaft.

"Someday, Dear girl, you will watch your own hands do this to a real man..." Her delicate laughter pealed out its derision. Try as hard as I could, I could not throw off the feeling that I would like to do and to see that.

She turned sideways, so that I was able to see what she was doing to me in the mirror. She was whispering out instructions about how a girl sucks a cock that she likes. As she did what she was doing, I envied her for doing what a girl does, while I was unable to do anything.

My eyes almost bulged out, as I watched and felt what was happening to me. Her tongue licked at the length of the shaft, and gently touching the ultra sensitive head, as she neared the top. Then she started to bite me, telling me that I would love giving love bites like that to my stud. When I could not hold it back any longer, she took me into her mouth and sucked voraciously at my shaft, sucking everything that she could get, out of me.

When I collapsed, after the most excruciatingly intense exper-ience of my life, my eyes half open, I saw her, licking her lips, telling me that the nicest taste in the world, was that fresh cum, straight out of a young stud. She then asked me if I wanted to suck a cock as much as any other girl does. My face flushed and I tried to nto admit it, but, the words literraly lept from my mouth.

"I...I can’t wait to see what it tastes like...." I cried, run-ning my mascara.

That was how it started, that I wore girls clothing. For the next two years, Carol and I lived together. She is now in her last year of school, and I have been in the work force for a little over a year, in a management position for a chain of department sotres, in the accounting department.

True to my conditioning, every moment that I am at home, my hems are knee length. I love it, and I love having curls bouncing around on my naked shoulders, moving in a cloud of delicate scent and hearing the rustlings of my underwear as I move. Fortunately, where I work, I am on my own most of the time, travelling, so, no one ever seems to be concerned with my feminine traits. I try to not be overtly feminine, but, I find it is an act, to act mascu-line. I usually wear Carol’s underwear. In fact, I can not remem-ber when I last wore masculine underwear.

Now, to tell you how I became a queen.

It happened three weeks ago, but, it is still so fresh in my memory, it is like it happened yesterday.

As mentioned earlier, I travel a great deal in my job. Mostly, I audit accounting and inventory systems, in various stores in the chain, so, I am on the road quite a bit.

I came into a small town, and went to the store, to introduce myself to Greg, the local manager. I was amazed to find that this town did not have a hotel. I was even further amazed, when after Greg’s generous offer to stay at his house, to learn that I had forgotten to bring the luggage that I had packed. In a flash, I saw it still all neatly piled byt the front door, in the foyer.

Flaberghasted, I explained to Greg what had happened. He was nearly six inches taller than I, so, there was no way that his clothes would fit me. He did tell me that he was storing much of his sister’s clothes, and, that some of her pants and stuff would fit me, if I did not mind wearing women’s clothes. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out that I loved wearing women’s clothing. Inside, I cursed Carol for her hypnotism, and shrunk back, await- ing the ultimate rejection. He would probably toss me out on my ear, file a report, then I would be out of a job, a job that I liked bvery vcery much.

He just looked at me, for a long moment, then said, with a shrug of his shoulders, "Well, if you like wearing them, there is no reason not to, I suppose." He then went into the closet and pulled out five suitcases, carrying them into the bedroom, telling me to select whatever I wanted to. He winked and told me just to be careful not to dress too sexilly.

His sister was aparently away on an extended tour with the peace corps, and had left all of her stuff with him for safe keeping. When I opened the suitcases, I was in seventh heaven. She had some gorgeous clothes.

I dressed, first, in a tight corset of red satin, with stiff boning, pulling the laces as tightly as I could. I stuffed panties into the half cups, and that gave me protrusions, that looked like breasts. I sat and pulled on nylon stocking of taupe. Next came a pair of light blue silk panties, french style, with flaring legs of pale blue delicate lace.

I chose black high heels, of three inches. I lowered a frothy short style petticoat down over my head, and adjusted the straps, so that the lace of the bodice, gently caressed and enhanced the bulges on my chest.

The came a cream colored shirtwaist dress, with a flaring full skirt, and a three inch wide belt.

I hung a towel around my shoulders and did my makeup. Half an hour later, I was brushing my hair out in full curls to dance on my slenderized shoulders. I donned jewelry, spritzed on perfume, and, really wondered if I had gone too far. My job was on the line, here.

If Greg thought I was a queer, he might very well try to get me fired, and, he probably would not have very much trouble doing it either.

But, I was unable to resist the flutterings of excitement deep inside. I wanted to be a queer tonight. I wanted to be as queer as a three dollar bill. My face burned, as I wondered what he would look like with all of his clothes off, standing in front of me. I hated myself for doing it, but, I knew, I was going to get Greg to seduce me tonight.

With a swish of my skirts, I entered the livingroom and plopped down onto the couch beside him, as though this was the most natural and normal thing in the world. He was watching television. I propped my chin in my cupped hands, elbows on knees, and tried to concetrate on the game show he was watching. I felt his eyes undressing me, and, I was thankful for the petticoat, that I knew was hiding my burning throbbing erection.

"So, what’s on, Greg?" My voice reverted automatically to that feminine voice that I used while at home with Carol.

"Uh...Stand up...and...let me see you...."

I stood, a smile on my burning humiliated face. I went, like a prima donna, to the center of the room, swirled about, and did a deep curtsy.

"God...I can not believe you are a guy...right now...."

"Well, right now, I do not feel like a guy."

"You mean...you...feel...like a ...like a girl?"

"Uh huh."

"Sheeeet."

"Does that seem strange to you, Greg?"

"You...you have done this before haven’t you?"

"Well, if you want to know the truth, I’ll tell you. About three years ago, my girlfriend hypnotized me, and, made me want to wear girls clothes, all the time, whenever I am not working. So, you are right, in fact, most of the time, I wear her clothes."

"Are you...are you a queer?"

"I"...my face burned with shame, "I don’t know."

"Sheet, any guy that looks like you, well, he’s got a problem."

"What kind of problem, Greg?" I askled softly, looking him in the eye.

"Well...with guys...you know? You...You turn guys on acting like that."

"OH?...." I could not help myself from asking the next question.

"Do I turn you on, Greg?" I cooed softly, like a vixen.

He stared at me for a long moment.

"Yes, you do. I do not know how we are going to handle this. I was going to have you sleep in my bed tonight...and...well...now, I just don’t know."

"Oh..." I could not stop the sound of rejection in my voice, nor the verge of tears on my eyelids.

Greg, realizing that somehow he had insulted me, tried to make it up. He wrapped his massive muscled arm arround me, and tried to console me. I looked up at him, thankful for his caring for me.

I saw something snap in his eyes, and, I saw lust replace what was there. I shuddered, flattered, knowing that he was lusting for my girl self.

"What do you call yourself, girl?"

"Karen-Anne."

"Well, Karen, if anything happens to you tonight, it is your fault. You are so fucking foxy, I could turn queer over a girl like you."

"Do you mean that, Greg?" I whispered, my excitment causing my my voice to tremble.

For an answer, he crushed my lips with his.

I melted, knowing that I had craved being treated like this.

He broke away, and told me to go and get a coat and purse. He was going to take me out for supper. I was elated. He even held the car door open for me.

Supper was like a dream. A very quiet room, with a candle on the table and nearly two bottles of white wine consumed. An hour and a half later, we were on our way back to his house. Greg now knew that I had been hypnotized, by Carol, to crave having a cock in my mouth. He seemed to take great pleasure in teasing me about my wanting to get my lips around him. In all humiliation, all I could do, was to admit it, burning with that ultra secret knowledge that I was behaving like a girl. He seemed fascinated that anyone could have such a perverse desire, and made me admit it over and over again, as we drove around the little town.

Unable to stop myself, and, sort of as a gesture to get him to stop talking about it, I tried to let him know that it was more than just talk. Tentatively, I let my left hand slide over his thigh, and, soon, I had the first real man’s cock I had ever felt in my hand. I craved it, like a woman craves a man. He looked at me, astounded.

"It’s....it’s really true then, isn’t it, Karen?"

"I want you you to make love to me, Greg." I whispered in his ear as my fingers explored his shape. For a big guy, he did not have a big cock. It did not feel like he was wearing underwear.

Back at his house, I had another glass of wine, while he went into the bedroom and prepared for the night. When he returned to the living room, he was naked, hairy all over and naked. His cock was jutting out at me, menacingly.

"You are glad that I am here, Greg?" I giggled.

"You really are a guy, right?"

"Yes."

"And you love wearing my sisters clothes?"

"Yes again."

"And the fact that a man is standing here, ready to fuck your brains out turns you on?"

I blushed and nodded, unable to stop the smile playing at my lips, hating Carol for doing this to me.

"You have never been with a guy before, but, you want to suck this cock of mine, just like you really were a girl?"

"Right again, Stud."

He held out his hand and helped me to stand, on my higheeled feet, unsteadilly. He drew me, without resistance, into his arms, and crushed me against his chest, where I really wanted to be.

His lips bruised mine, in their savage attack on me. I loved it. I felt helpless, with this strong man, and that was just the way that I really wanted to feel, I realized. In my heart, I thanked Carol for doing this to me.

He nearly carried me into his bedroom, then sat on the end of the bed, with me standing between his legs. He was holding my hands. I had my eyes glued to his erection, stiff because I was a pretty girl. I was flattered.

"You have never seen another cock, up real close, Karen?"

"No."

"Well, why don’t you take a closer look?"

He let my hands go, as I sank slowly to my knees, my hands going to his knees. When I was settled on my knees, I let my hands slowly slide up his thighs, till I could wrap both my hands around it.

"It’s sooo beautiful...." fascinated, I whispered out.

"Beautiful enough for you to want to kiss it, Karen?"

I let out a moan, and planted my lips all over hte head, leaving traces of my lipstick all over the head.

Greg fell back on the bed. I lavished my love on it, remembering the images I’d seen in the mirror, as Carol had taught me how to suck a cock, and, I slowly repeated everything that she had done.

Greg bucked around on the bed, moaning about the pleasure I was giving him, about what a wonderful cocskcker that I was. I craved hearing myself called a cocksucker, when I had him in my mouth.

When he came, I nearly choked. I could hardly swallow any of it, as he got so big and rammed himself so far into my throat that I could scarcley get air down my throat, let alone a big load of his cum. I tried though. I wanted the reward of a girl. I wanted a load of his cum in my belly. I wanted to know that I had sucked it out of him and into myself.

When he was drained and started to get soft, I crawled up on the bed to lay beside him. He recuperated very fast, and was soon fingering me, gently, through the front of my dress, like he really did not believe that I had one to.

"How did you like your first blowjobe, Karen?"

"It was fabulous. I loved it."

He reached under my dress and began manipulating te front of my panties. I exploded with a wild abandonment that I never had dreamed was possible.

Exhausted, I stripped, lowered a nightgown over my head and crawled into bed with my first boyfriend, enjoying the feel of his hard hot hairy body as he caressed me.

That morning, he suggested, that since I would be working in his office all day, that I might enjoy going to work in a dress. I jumped at that chance. I selected a pale blue wool suit, a jacket and a skirt. I wore tight pantygirdle to hide any bulges, because, I knew I was going to be hard all day.

Something else that I jumped at, when the chance presented it-self, was to crawl under the desk and give him a blowjob while he was eating his dinner. I made this one last though, for two reasons.

One, I wanted to drive Greg up the wall, but, the main reason was, that I just loved sucking his cock, and I wanted to make it last as long as I possibly could. I even sucked him, when his secretary came in to say she was leaving for lunch.

I have not yet been penetrated, but, Greg promises me that he will fuck me the next time I come to his store, provided, I come to do my work, as Karen-Anne. But, I did spend a great deal of very satisfying time on my knees before my master, gaining expertise as a cocksucker.

When I confessed to Carol how much pleasure I had received with Greg, she proposed a joint summer vacation. I can suck his cock while he sucks her tits. I think she was joking, but, I can not help but fantasize, can I?

Well, that was my debut as a Fairy Queen. I hope you sisters have as much trouble in your panties as I did, dreaminy up the story. If you like it, send me some ideas, via the billboard, and I may write one for you.

 

THE END?

 

 

© 1998
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