Josh And Gail

by Girlscot

  

Josh lay beside Gail acutely aware of the warmth emanating from her body, the heavy bedroom curtains filtering out virtually all the moonlight from outside and making the realisation of her being beside him, all the more comforting. He was unsure if she had fallen asleep yet, but she hadn't moved in the last fifteen minutes or so and her rhythmic breathing suggested she probably had succumbed. Josh loved Gail with every fibre in his body, and together with Cassie, their daughter, his family life could not possibly be happier. She was facing towards him and he could feel her breath gently brushing on his own cheeks. But Josh's mind was anything but at ease. He loved her so much and couldn't imagine his life without her, but right now, in the darkness of the bedroom, he had the urge, no compulsion, to tell her something which he knew could destroy their marriage and blow their world apart. All I have to do is blurt out a few sentences, he thought. At night, and in bed, was the special time when they often spoke about things that were concerning them. It seemed that they were better able to sort things out or reach a conclusion to a problem in the calm of their marital bed. It was usually Gail who started these discussions, but he knew she would not be bothered if he nudged her and told her he had to talk about something. All he had to do was say a few words. He could hear them in his own mind. They were only words and in reality were no more difficult to say than any other. He had certainly said them out loud many times when he had been on his own so he COULD say them. All he had to do was verbalise some words that were in his head. In the last few months he had reached this point many times, often when he knew she was still awake, but he was just unable to get the words from his mind to his mouth, and gradually they would both drift to sleep, the opportunity gone for another day.

Josh and Gail had been married for sixteen years. They had married young, partially because a youthful mistake had meant that Cassie was on the way. Josh was nineteen and Gail a year younger. Money was short, but they loved each other and that was enough to see them through the first dozen years or so. Josh had had a succession of decent but not very long-lasting jobs over these years. Cut-backs, redundancies and closures always seemed to follow him around and although he was never out of work for any great period of time he hadn't managed to improve their lot to the extent he'd hoped for. After leaving school Gail had been working part-time in a large department store before heading for university when she had become pregnant and had then had to stay at home to bring up the baby. Shortage of money and family circumstances had made certain that Cassie was to be an only child. When, because of her pregnancy, Gail had failed to go to university after completing her summer job in the store, her parents had been horrified. The baby and marriage to Josh had caused a rift with her parents that had never been repaired. Josh had been brought up by his grandmother and although she had tried to help the young couple as much as possible, and had let them live with her for the first five years of their married life, she was trying to resurrect her own life now that Josh was not dependant on her and this meant that they were pretty much on their own. Eventually, they had managed to get a small flat of their own, and had struggled by, until four years ago, after his last redundancy, Josh had decided to put together the redundancy cash and computer skills he had learned over the years at work and play, and make a new life for him and his family. They moved town and Josh started a small web designing company, offering his services to local business and private customers. Josh worked hard and slowly it became a good steady business and with Cassie then twelve years old and at school during the day, Gail was able to return to work. She got a job in "King's", a small family department store, and her hard work had earned her promotion to the head of the woman's clothing department. For the first time in their lives their head's were comfortably above water. They moved to a newly built detached home and got on with life.

Lying in bed, questions and thoughts were swirling around in Josh's mind. Questions he had asked himself many times before but had never come up with satisfactory answers. Why on earth would he want to tell Gail? What good can come from telling her? She's happy in her ignorance. Why do you have to force this upon her? Is it only selfishness on your behalf? You've kept this a secret for so many years. Just keep it that way. He wondered how he got to the point where he was even contemplating explaining all this to Gail.

This was a secret that not so long ago he would never have envisaged telling ANYONE let alone the woman he loved most in the entire world. This was a secret he fully expected to take with him to the grave. And yet over the last year or so it had been building up inside him to tell her the truth about himself. Something she didn't know. And that was the perhaps one of the reasons he was being compelled to tell her. Their love had grown so much over the years that they had become one. They were soul mates. And yet there was this one obstacle between them. Something about him he felt Gail had a right to know, although he was also aware that if it was never mentioned would allow them both to carry on with happily married life. But again, he felt if he did not tell her, there would always be this barrier between them and he hated the fact that he was hiding anything about his life from Gail. He had to tell her!

Having his own little company had changed Josh's way of life. For the first time in his working life he no longer had to set of for work in the morning but was able to work almost fully from his computer at home, with only the occasional one to one meeting required with his clients. Some days were non-stop, others a little quieter, but in general business was very good. But as business and financial life became easier, Josh began to struggle. From his earliest childhood Josh had felt a fascination with girls and all things feminine. As a youngster his Gran was concerned that although he had some boy pals, he seemed happiest when playing with the local girls and he would occasionally say things which young boys never usually said. How he liked Karen's dress or Tara's hair. His gran even seemingly sensed a longing in his voice that suggested that that he was envious of his young girlfriends and their feminine ways. In truth he did long to dress like the girls he played with and wish his hair could be worn as prettily as theirs. But he was a boy and he thought that that wasn't possible. He moved into his teenage years and tried to suppress his desires until, one day, aged thirteen, arriving home from school and knowing that his Gran would not be home for a couple of hours, he went into her bedroom and opened her wardrobe door. Hanging from a hook on the back of the door was a drawstring bag. His Gran was an attractive woman in her early fifties and Josh loved to see her preparing for work or getting ready for the very occasional night out. He tried not to make his interest to obvious but he had seen this bag before and he had seen her place it on this hook once before. He also knew what was in it. It contained the curlers and rollers his Gran used when setting her hair. With shaking hands he unhooked the bag and pulled open the drawstring. He moved over to her bed, turned the bag upside down and emptied the contents on top of the bedspread. Barely able to control the shaking of his hands he selected around six smallish rollers and some pins that looked as they would be helpful for keeping them in place. He sat down on the stool in front of the mirror mounted on the dresser and laid the rollers out on the dresser before him. His hair was now a bit beyond collar length with a maximum of about four inches on top. He inexpertly separated a strand of hair from the top of his head and held it up with left hand. He then picked up one of the rollers, and trying to copy the actions of his Gran, placed it at the top of the strand and began to roll it down towards his head, gathering the hair as he rolled. When all the hair was rolled he held the roller in place while he grabbed one of the plastic pins and stabbed it through the roller. Miraculously the roller stayed in place. And in those seconds flames which had been smouldering inside him for some years were fanned and began to burn with an ever increasing intensity. A flame that would never, and could not be, doused. Five minutes more and he had rolled the other five rollers and added three more till most of the top of his head was covered. His Gran kept her makeup in a drawer of the dresser and Josh soon found a lipstick, which he took the top off, turned the base until the lipstick rose from the base and gently applied to his lips. He looked at himself in the mirror. He knew that his ten minutes of beauty treatment had not make him look like the girls he so admired, but he also knew that somehow this was something that made him feel right and something that somehow should be an important part of his life. Although he had plenty of time he panicked, removed the rollers and returned them in the bag to the back of the door. He ran to the bathroom and wiped off the lipstick with a paper handkerchief and flushed the tissue, before wiping his lips with a wet facecloth. The rollers had not been in his hair long enough to have had the slightest effect so very quickly everything had been returned to normalcy. But over the next three or four years Josh continued to practice whenever the circumstances allowed, and soon he became proficient in both the styling and setting of his hair and the application of makeup. After much deliberation he called his feminine self Jennifer. His Gran loved to read women's magazines and Josh would secretly leaf through them and glean any hints and tips on all things feminine and he soon became quite the fashion expert too. Sometimes these magazines would have a story about women who used to be men. This was before the rise of the internet and information on people like this was hard to come by and Josh would scan the front page headlines of these magazines in the local shop hoping they would inform him that this kind of story would be inside. Gradually his knowledge improved and with that knowledge came the growing feeling that being female was something he wanted, no needed, to be. He was transsexual. But also became aware that this was not a goal easily achieved, something that many, maybe most, people did not understand or choose to accept. This was something best kept under a tightly screwed on lid, never to be revealed to anyone. Keep it a secret!! And so he tried to be as normal as possible. Josh was no macho man, but neither was he outwardly effeminate. Except for one thing. At the age of around fourteen, Josh began to develop small, but noticeable breasts. The young, unsure, Josh did not know what to do or think. On one hand, Josh the boy was hugely embarrassed by this and would do almost anything to avoid being seen naked from the waist up, but on the other hand he looked on them as being some sort of sign that this was the way his life was meant to be. Maybe even an indication that physically there was something fundamentally female about his body. He became adept at keeping the top half of his body covered, and was lucky that his school had sports options, like archery, which meant he could avoid exposing his chest to his fellow pupils. He would avoid wearing tight fitting tee-shirts that would emphasize his breasts and instead wear the same kind of loose fitting shirts all the time. Eventually his reluctance to wear some of the tops that his Gran had bought him had come to her notice, and after a little probing from her, he had confessed the reason he was leaving them unused in is drawer. She persuaded Josh, reluctantly, to visit his doctor who had diagnosed gynecomastia, and informed him that this was not uncommon in teenage boys but that in the majority of cases the swelling would disappear at the end of puberty. By his mid-teens, his gynecomastia, emphasised by his fine body hair, had become both a huge source of embarrassment for him as a boy, but also a great comfort to him too, as along with his hair, which he kept at a mid-collar/shoulder length, it was the greatest visible expression of his femininity and as such, something that despite being an obvious source of embarrassment when in boy mode, he grew to cherish. As it happened the doctor was wrong in one part of the gynecomastia diagnosis, as, as is sometimes the case, Josh's gynecomastia did not disappear in his late teens, but followed him into adulthood, a fact he later grew to accept and appreciate. However, despite his strong feminine feeling, he felt that he had to bury them and just get on living life as a boy. At around sixteen years of age he started dating girls. He knew he didn't have any attraction to any of the boys in his circle of friends, but girls were different. He loved them and everything about them. But his feelings were confused. Much as he loved them and was attracted to them in a boy/girl way, he was also acutely aware how much he loved and was envious of their femininity. He loved their hair, the styles, the colour, the movement, but he fantasised that his own hair could be styled similarly to his girl friends. He loved their makeup, and would try and replicate what he saw when becoming Jennifer. He loved their clothes and how they sat on their feminine bodies, but wished, oh how he wished, that he could own and wear clothes like that in public. He watched enviously when he saw a group of girls socialising and wished fervently that he could be a part of their feminine culture. But he knew that was something he must keep hidden. So he dated and enjoyed the company of several girls, although his self-consciousness about his gynecomastia prevented the physical side of these relationships developing very far. Meanwhile, in private, he continued to explore his growing sense of womanhood at every given opportunity. His body and soul was divided. Eventually he met Gail and they both fell head over heels in love. He was even able to overcome his anxiety about his small, but to him very evident breasts, and begin a physical relationship with Gail, who to Josh's eternal gratitude, either never noticed or cared to mention his source of embarrassment. Despite their closeness, it was a subject that never came up at any time during their marriage and Josh felt that surely Gail kept silent only to spare his blushes. However they were both young and in love, and with that came a little carelessness, and pregnancy and early marriage followed. He loved both Gail and his new baby daughter and although his desire to be female continued to dominate his thoughts, the opportunity to dress practically disappeared and he forced himself to try and live without the ability to express his femininity. And this he had managed for twelve years.

But then he began to struggle. Resisting expressing his female persona had been difficult before, but now their lives had changed for the better financially, and Josh was working from home, he was in the house alone and when his work was done he begun to surf the internet exploring all the varied sites that dealt with gender issues. Each day, after finishing his work mid-morning, he began his usual tour of his favourite websites. He had never stopped believing that that his true gender was female, but had fought hard to remain the husband and father that he felt his family deserved, but the websites that he visited on the internet had reawakened many of the feelings and desires he had tried so hard to keep hidden from the outside world. He was aware that the compulsion to express his female side had been reasserting itself steadily, and he battled daily with his inner self, resisting the temptation to allow Jennifer to come back into his life in anything other than a fantasised vision in his head. However, one day, after one such surfing session, he left his computer and made his way to the bedroom he shared with Gail, which had a small bath/showeroom off to one side. As if in a trance, he stepped into the shower cubicle and quickly washed his body before shampooing and conditioning his hair. He rinsed himself all over, switched off the shower, opened the door, and reached out for one of the towels which hung over the nearby rail. After folding it in two lengthwise, he bent his head forward and put the towel over the back of his head, gathered the two ends at his forehead and expertly twisted them two or three times before throwing the twisted end on to the top of his head, producing the perfect turban, his hair captured within. He stepped out of the shower and headed for the large mirror which hung on the wall behind the washbasin and looked at the image before him. He placed both his hands below his breasts and pushed the soft flesh upwards and together. He was immediately rewarded with the view of a significant cleavage. He knew that in female terms his breasts were small. Probably A cup. He had even seen men with larger breasts on the beach when on holiday, but these men were normally obese, with fat stomachs to match and he thought that most people who saw this would just assume this was a side effect of being overweight. But other than his chest Josh had no extra flesh and this served to make his breasts all the more noticeable. He stared at the reflection in the mirror. Even though he had to hold his breasts together with his hands the image was female, and marred only by the light covering of fine hair which was typical of his whole body. Stepping away from the mirror he took a second towel and wrapped it around his waist, and walked into the bedroom, where he saw Gail's makeup bag sitting on her dresser. He knew that Gail would have her touch-up makeup in her handbag but that most of her full makeup regime was in this bag. He stared at the bag, longing to reach out, open the zip and get at the feminine delights within. He could not stop himself. He lifted the makeup bag, opened it and emptied the contents on to the bed. He surveyed the spilled contents. Foundations, face powders, blushers, eyeliner pencils, various tubes of lipstick and lip glosses with their little application wands attached to their screwed lids. Pallets with two or sometimes four little sections containing matching colours of what he knew to be eye shadow. There were tubes of mascara, a nail file, a couple of pairs of tweezers and various other pieces of a woman's beauty regime. He picked up a plastic bottle of foundation and turned it over in his hand and absent mindlessly read the read the labels, back and front. Even the writing on the bottle was excitingly feminine. It was written for, and intended to be read by women, and somehow, even in just reading the label he felt had entered a forbidden but more beautiful world. Still clutching the foundation, he returned to the bathroom mirror and once again studied the image before him. He had shaved that morning and none of his light facial hair could be seen, but he shaved again, anyway. He dried his face and unscrewed the top of the foundation bottle, prepared to begin a routine he had not enjoyed for insert years. But something stopped him. And he knew what it was. This was Gail's foundation. All the different kinds of makeup were part of Gail's personal beauty regime and somehow to use any part one of them would be a betrayal of her personal space. He could not compound the guilt he was feeling already, by using her makeup. Despite desperately wanting to apply the makeup and see his face feminised by its effect, he knew that today that would not be possible. Back in the bedroom, he replaced all the makeup back into the makeup bag then returned to the mirror for the third time. Slowly, he reached for the towel turban and began to unravel the twisted ends before finally moving it altogether. His hair fell to touch his shoulders. Normally he would just towel dry his hair, or give it a quick blast with a hairdryer and leave it loose and slightly shaggy with a parting down the middle. But today, despite the disappointment of not being able to apply makeup, he knew he was going to do something with his hair. He had to give himself something feminine to hold on to. Their hairdryer hung on a hook at the side of the large bathroom mirror and in a few seconds Josh was watching himself blow-drying his hair in the most feminine style that he could manage. Not wanting to use anything of Gail's, he used his own hairbrush which was not ideal for the turned under pageboy bob he was trying to create. He needed to use a round brush to get the height on top and the curled under effect at the ends, but despite this his hair length was allowing him to fashion a reasonably womanly hairstyle. Switching off the hairdryer, he studied his reflection in the mirror. It was not at all to his satisfaction but the hairstyle he had fashioned was undoubtedly womanly. He had no makeup on, was not wearing any female clothes to aid female appearance, but just looking at this feminine style on his face helped him to see himself in a female way. However slightly that was. But he knew in that instant that this was not enough. He knew that he was not going to stop at styling his hair. He had kept his true female hidden for so many years, like water behind a dam, but what he had just done was a small trickle of water through the dam and he knew that he was not going to be able to stem the flow, that indeed, it was going to grow stronger. How strong he did not know, but certainly his mental dam had been breached and he knew he couldn't and indeed did not want to stop the flow. Still with his towel wrapped around his waist, he returned to the computer and very quickly found several online cosmetic and hairstyling supply companies. Within half an hour, with butterflies jumping in his stomach throughout, he had ordered all the cosmetics he wanted and some brushes, magnetic and heated rollers, tweezers, a styling wand and some hairstyling product and anything else he thought he might need. His purchases would be despatched that day and would be delivered by mail within two to three days. The mail always arrived after Gail and Cassie had departed for work and school respectively so he felt sure he could keep their arrival secret. He paid by credit card and as Gail left the running of the family finances and payment of bills to Josh he was confident she would never notice the payment on their statement. Josh was thrilled and excited about what he had just done but he was also riddled with guilt and a sense that he was betraying both Gail and Cassie. But deep down he knew that he was not going be able to stop at the very least exploring his feminine side. He had admitted to himself long ago that although his physical body was male he was a woman inside, and he had suppressed this for so long. But now he wasn't going to be able to stop himself at the very least spending some time as the female he knew he was.

Josh's online hair purchases arrived soon after and the cosmetics a day later. He had opened and toyed with the products, thrilled that they were his. These were things that only a woman should possess, he told himself. But they were his. For the first time he owned makeup and rollers just like a natural born woman. He kept telling himself that only a person with a woman's nature would want to own them. And he did! And he could not wait to use them.

The next couple of days were infuriatingly busy. Work had to be done for a customer to a deadline but by the Friday of that week he was once again situated in front of the bathroom mirror, hair in towel turban and towel wrapped around his waist, freshly showered and shaved. The heated rollers were plugged into a socket in the bedroom, ready for use. The excitement of what he was about to do was almost unbearable. He examined his face and his attention was immediately drawn to his eyebrows. Although he was not yet old enough to fall victim to the problem that befell men in later years, hair sprouting in all the wrong place such as ears, nose and eyebrows he was desperate to do some shaping on his own. He really wanted to go to town and pluck and shape them properly, Have a beautiful pair of neat, slim arching brows, but he knew that he could not do anything that would be obvious to anyone else, especially Gail. He decided he would just neaten them a little, nothing too drastic. He took his tweezers and gingerly began removing some hairs from the underside of his brows. The small stabs of discomfort were nothing to the thrill he felt to be undertaking the feminine ritual. He used his finger to push up his brow exposing the longer hairs and these he removed. After five minutes he stopped and examined his work. He was convinced he had made his brows neater without making it obvious to all but the closest of inspections that they had been worked upon. They were not as shaped as he would have liked them to have been, but discretion triumphed over enthusiasm. Trembling with fear, guilt and excitement, he removed the towel from his head and went into the bedroom to collect the heated rollers. He took a brush and ran it through his hair which was now only slightly damp. He sprayed his hair with a setting lotion he had purchased from the internet hair salon store and brushed his hair from front to back, removing any tangles. He then began a ritual that he had not enjoyed for many a year. He decided he was not going to strive for anything other than large curls and waves. Finding it easier to work from the crown of his head forward, he used a comb to separate a strand of hair on the top, middle of his head. Combing it through one more time he held it up and placed the biggest of the heated rollers into the strand at about half way and slid it to the end and began rolling. He loved the feeling as the roller gathered his hair then met with his scalp and the slight tension on top of his head that this produced. There was eighteen rollers in the heated roller set that Josh had purchased, six large at about and inch and a half diameter, six medium at about an inch and six small at around three quarters of an inch, and ten minutes later he had rolled all eighteen into his hair. He had struggled setting the hair at the back of his head, a problem he remembered from his teenage years, but he did the best he could and when he looked at the finished set in the mirror he was well satisfied with his work. Next came the makeup. Taking the foundation, the colour of which he was only half certain was right for his dark complexion; he dotted little bits around his face and neck. He had recently read on the internet that many fellow gender challenged girls had plucked up the courage to go to the beauty counters in department stores and ask for makeup advice. Many of these girls said they were met with nothing but help. A very pleasant experience and Josh wondered if he would ever be able to summon up the courage to do such a thing. He began smoothing the foundation using the tips of his fingers, and was soon satisfied he had a good base onto which to apply his face powder, which in this case was made of little round balls and when applied gave a certain sparkle. He dusted the soft powder brush over the makeup balls, spinning the brush in his fingers to try and get an even pickup of powder. He watched himself carefully in the mirror as he ho took the brush and gently began brushing the powder on to his forehead. The image in the mirror, along with the feel of the soft brush spreading the feminising makeup on his face, caused a beautiful warm feeling to surge through Josh's body. He was performing a feminine ritual and it was a ritual that was meant to be a part of the life he should be living. After he finished applying the face powder, he lightly brushed a little blusher along the line of his cheek bones. His face was becoming more womanly before his eyes. And his eyes were what he attended to next. From past experience he knew the eyes were, for him, the hardest part of the makeup regime. But he remembered that when he got it right, they were one of best features. He painted on two shades of lavender coloured eye shadow, trying his best to blend them seamlessly together. When he was finished he took on eyeliner pencil and began to trace along the bottom edge of his eyes, under the lashes. His hands were shaking so much that he found this task very difficult and he decided to settle for going under the eyes only. Next came the mascara, which he applied to both top and bottom lashes with difficulty. The combination of nerves and lack of practice did not go well with putting on eye makeup. But, eventually, his eyes were to his satisfaction and only his lips were left. He outlined the shape of his lips and then filled in his lips with a lipstick that once on left a high gloss that was somewhere between purple and a deep dark red. He had tried his best to concentrate only on the feature he was working on, but now that he had finished he took a step back and allowed himself to focus on the complete makeup package. He was immediately stunned by his mirror image. Before him was a feminine face, emphasised by the rollers still in his hair. His senses swam in the excitement of the vision he was taking in. This was the first time he had seen his face with makeup in insert years when his face still carried the glow of youth, and although the image before him could not be called beautiful, there was a very definite feminine softness. The makeup could be better, his eyebrows could be shaped better. It passed through his mind that there was such a thing as facial feminising surgery and he wondered what improvements a skilled surgeon could do that would improve his look further. His mind was racing. He felt so womanly.

Questions flashed through his mind. Questions that he had asked himself many times before, but questions that were now demanding answers. What kind of a man was he? What kind of man would take pleasure from setting his hair with heated rollers, would shake with excitement at the sight and feeling of applying makeup. What kind of man desperately wanted to grow his nails, and along with his toenails, paint them a dark cherry red? What kind of man dreamed of visiting a beauty salon, having his hair shampooed, then set, or perhaps dyed blonde with multiple shades of highlights, and cut into a unmistakably feminine style. What kind of a man knew he would revel in the atmosphere of a beauty salon, would love chatting with the girls, being one of the girls. What kind of a man, who, when he saw a beautiful hairstyle on a pretty woman, did not want to sleep with that woman, but instead wished that he WAS that woman, that the clothes, hair, and makeup were his. There were times when he would see women, who perhaps were not necessarily the most beautiful of women, but who emanated femininity and the joy of being female, and his heart would ache. What kind of man, who, when he saw a group of women enjoying each other's company in a social setting longed to be part of their group. To be one of the girls. What kind of man was not only up to date in the latest women's fashions, but longed to wear them too? Whose dream was to attend a function in a long evening dress, with matching high heel shoes, hair styled in a wonderful chignon, the highlights in the taught blonde hair contrasting with a beautiful clean neckline.

And physically, what kind of a man despised his own erections because they were a reminder of his male body and the fact that he had an ugly penis and scrotum and not a beautifully female vagina? He was almost ashamed to admit, even to himself, that he even envied a women's seated position for urinating because they had the female plumbing he longed for. At home, he always sat to urinate, using his hand to keep his penis pointing downwards. It was a pretence, but a small one that gave him some satisfaction. And for similar reasons he hated male public urinals. Men standing in line, holding on to their male appendages and as a result he would always try to use a private cubicle. He hated the way men chatted to each other absentmindedly while urinating into a communal trough. It was something he could not do. What kind of a man longed to feel the weight of a full pair of breasts on his chest and longed to cup them in a pretty bra? What kind of man hated every dark hair on his body and would give anything to have the smooth soft feel of female skin? What kind of man envied a female orgasm, and longed to feel the full bodied ecstasy that his own male orgasm did not give bring, although he was unsure how we would most like this orgasm to be achieved. He had never considered himself gay, but he could not ignore the fact that in his womanly fantasies he had thought about being penetrated by a male. The male in question never had an identity, not even a face. A faceless male whose only function was to allow Josh to express female sexuality.

He knew the answer to what kind of man he was. He was not a "normal" male. No "normal" male would entertain these wants, wishes and dreams. They would not enter a "normal" male's mind. When your gender is correct you do not spend a second asking yourself questions about it. You are what you are, and you are comfortable with that. For most people their gender is right and they have no need to question it. Josh thought it was the main reason that many "normal" people could not understand the transgendered. Why would anyone want to change their sex? Why would anyone want to physically alter their bodies? Why would any man want to remove his penis and testicles, the thought of which would bring most "normal" males out in a cold sweat? Being comfortable in your given gender is something that requires no effort, has no areas of doubt. It's so normal for them that they just cannot understand anyone for whom this feeling does not exist. Josh knew what kind of man he was. He was a transsexual!

He snapped back to the vision in the mirror. He was generally thrilled by his makeover, but as he stared at his made up face, heated rollers still tantalisingly curling his hair, he again knew that this was not enough. He WAS A WOMAN, and he HAD to express this fact to a far greater degree. What woman, born female, could live their lives only expressing a tiny fraction of their true personality? And Josh knew that he was female in mind if not in body. He had buried his true self for so long in an effort to be a good husband and father, but he could not go on any longer trying to be something he was not. He did not know exactly where he was heading, but he knew he needed express his feminine side further. He stared at his breasts in the mirror and again used his hands to cup and push them together. He had breasts. Genuine, if smallish, womanly breasts, and he was overwhelmed by the desire to do what women do with their breasts Cup and support them in pretty bra. He was no different from any other naturally born woman. He had a desire to see his body in the best possible feminine light. This was not a sexual fantasy. Under the towel wrapped around his waist, his penis lay small and undisturbed. This was not about sexual gratification, but about connecting his body to his female psyche and the feeling of joy and excitement that came about because he knew that this was the real Josh/Jennifer. Moving back into the bedroom he crossed the room to the chest of drawers in which Gail kept her lingerie and smaller, folded, items of clothing. It was a four drawer unit and he knew that Gail's bras and panties and other assorted small pieces of underwear were in the second drawer from the bottom. Shaking with excitement, he opened the drawer and immediately his eyes were feasting on the type of clothing that only a woman should possess. The contents of the drawer were not exactly in an orderly fashion as Gail usually just sorted out her underwear from the clean washing and jammed them in the drawer. Josh was aware of virtually every piece of lingerie that Gail possessed, as he had always been more than happy to clothe shop with Gail, offering his expected male advice when asked while doing his utmost not to seem either too knowledgeable or over interested at the same time. His eyes searched around the drawer and settled on a lavender underwired bra with full fabric cups and lace edging. This was part of a bra and panty set Gail had purchased with his approval some weeks earlier. He took it from the drawer and held it in his hands, this wonderful, pretty and delicate woman's undergarment. Its practical function was to hold and support a woman's breasts, yet in reality it was so much more. It was a piece of lingerie that stated that the user was, and could only be, female. It most definitely was a sexual piece of clothing. A woman wore it over the most obvious and visible signs of their femininity. Breasts were a defining statement of womanhood and the bra somehow carried almost the same magic as the breast themselves. And in most cases, it was designed to look pretty and sexy. It was a garment that was in general not seen in public, yet a woman still wanted it not only to be comfortable but sexy too. It SCREAMED femininity. He stared at the bra, mesmerised by its prettiness and desperate to put it on. Gail took a smallish 36B bra, and Josh knew he usually bought shirts and jerseys and such for a 38 inch chest, so although it certainly would not be a perfect fit, he was sure if he opened the shoulder straps out and used the widest of the three settings to join it at the back, he would be able to get it on and be reasonably comfortable. But despite his desperation to put on the bra, he again struggled with the feelings of guilt. He felt by wearing the bra, he would be betraying Gail's trust, violating her property. He knew, without any doubt, that later on that day he would again go to his computer and purchase some lingerie for himself. He would not be able to stop himself. Perhaps some other clothes as well. He absolutely had to have the ability to be able to express his female side as fully as possible. But at that moment, he struggled with his conflicting thoughts. He felt himself begin to weaken and he started to think of reasons as to why it wouldn't really be such a breach of trust if he were to wear the bra. It would just be this one time. Gail need never know. I'm sure I'm not the first man to try on some of his wife's underwear. It's only an item of clothing. Gail had, on one occasion, borrowed one of his sweaters to run to the local shop. What's the difference? Suddenly, he knew he was going to put the bra on. The lure of seeing and feeling his own breasts in that lavender bra was just too strong. It was a feeling that any other woman could experience, the enjoyment of seeing themselves in some pretty lingerie. Why should he deny or be denied the feelings and experiences that were rightly his. He had denied them for so long. He was male by mistake and he deserved this chance to enjoy, even if only for a short time, the life that he ought to be living. Taking the bra, he walked over to the doors to their main, built in, space for hanging their clothes, the doors of which both housed a full length mirror. With ever mounting excitement he placed his arms through the shoulder straps and pulled the straps up on to his shoulders which brought the cups on to his chest. Reaching behind his back, his right hand found the end of the back strap in which the small hooks were located, while the left hand took the other end with the catches into which the hooks are placed. His lack of practice concerning the art of fastening a bra soon became evident to him and he cursed the fact that this was something he should have learned to do by right, long ago. As his fingers searched and tried to match the correct hook with its catch, he considered taking the bra back off and fastening it first, but this would require him to put the bra on over his head like a sweater, but this was an unladylike way to put on a bra and he did not want to admit defeat so easily. As his fingers began to feel sore he eventually managed to fasten the top hook and this made the other two hooks a little easier. He again adjusted the shoulder straps, before placing the bottom, wired part of the bra cups under his breasts. Finally, after smoothing the straps at the side he lifted his eyes to view the image in the mirror. He was immediately struck by how acceptably womanlike the whole image was. His made up face, topped by heated rollers, the bra, and towel round his waist like a skirt, made this so. Closer scrutiny would find faults and imperfections, but overall he was thrilled by how he looked. But his attention was most drawn to his bra covered breasts. Although the bra was one size too small around his chest and one size too big in cup size, it was close enough to look good and be reasonably comfortable to wear. Taking his eyes from the mirror, he stared down at his captured bosom and gasped as he saw the effect the bra had achieved. The cups were certainly not fully filled by his breasts and the material was therefore a little loose, but there was absolutely no doubt that there a good quantity of soft flesh being pushed up by the underwiring of the cups and supported by the cups. There were definitely breasts in the bra cups! He put his hand down the front of the bra and his senses danced at the feel of these feminine mounds of flesh. He knew there were various ways to pad the bra to give it the filled effect that he desired and that there were also such things as breast enhancers and cleavage formers that he could buy that would give the effect of fuller, bigger, breasts when clothes were lower cut at the front and the top of the breasts could be seen. But for now he had only a simple idea. He went to Gail's underwear drawer and pulled out one of the many pair of tights Gail had washed and returned to the drawer, and, taking a pair of scissors, cut both feet off them. Taking the feet sections of the tights, he headed for the kitchen where he soon found what he was looking for, a large storage jar full of short grain rice. He poured some of the rice into each of the feet, then as close to the rice as possible, he tied of the ends and cut the excess material away. He was left with two pretty good temporary breast formers. When he placed the rice formers within the bra it filled them out nicely and he found that by placing the tied off knot in the right position it even gave the impression of larger nipples through the material of the bra. He once again stared in the mirror, mesmorised by the image which faced him. He was thrilled as he knew that it looked as if it were two natural breasts filling that beautiful brassiere. He was looking at a woman in the mirror and it was HIM! Despite wishing the rollers could stay in his hair forever he was desperate to complete his transformation and so he watched himself slowly take out the rollers and gasped as he saw the ribbons of hair retain the soft curl as each of the rollers were removed. With the last roller placed safely back in the heating tray, he put his head forward and began to gently come through his hair. When he was finished, he threw his head back and watched the gently waved hair fall into the approximation of a full feminine hairstyle. With his hands he made some adjustments, fluffing the hair out in several places and arranging the long fringe to his satisfaction. He tried to do this looking only at his hair, so as to raise his anticipation of seeing the final look. When at last he was as sure as could be that he had arranged his hair to its best advantage, he closed his eyes for a few seconds and prepared to take in the view that awaited him in the mirror. He opened his eyes. There, in front of him was Jennifer. Jennifer's feminine face and hair and Jennifer's womanly breasts held within the lace edged garment. He gasped, and then began to cry. This is me! I'M JENNIFER. And he knew that somehow Gail must know Jennifer too.

Gail stirred. "Did you remember to put the light out in the fish tank?

She was still awake. It had been nearly twenty minutes since they had turned out the bedroom light, but it was not unusual for Gail to have these sudden questions spring from nowhere.

"Yes" Josh replied quietly. Gail didn't acknowledge the answer. She just resumed her rhythmic breathing.

Josh thoughts drifted to how their routine at bedtime that night had been the same as practically every other, with a few exceptions, over the last few months. They had kissed and cuddled and told each other how much they loved each other, but nothing else had happened and Josh knew that this was his fault. Increasingly he had been having difficulty attaining and sustaining an erection, and when he did it was not as strong as he had been able to manage previously. He had tried his best to convince Gail that this lack of sex drive was not connected to the strength of his love and feelings for her and he was unsure as to why he was going through this phase. The first assurance about his love was absolutely true, but he did think he knew the reason why this was happening. More and more, he was aware that his erection was a manifestation of his masculinity, and this was something he was finding increasingly abhorrent to the female he truly was. This was a stark and powerful reminder of a male body with which he was becoming more and more uncomfortable, and he suspected that his mental loathing of his erections was stopping him physically achieving them. He knew he was finding it ever more difficult living with his male body! But how could he explain this to Gail? She had been understanding, on every occasion, when he had failed to have a satisfactory erection, but Josh knew she must surely be wondering why this was happening and despite his assurances almost certainly be assuming the fault was somehow of her making. Perhaps this was an opening. A subject he could use to bring around the conversation to what he had to say. The compulsion to tell was growing stronger by the day. But how do you tell the woman you love that you are absolutely certain that in mind and soul and spirit if not in body, that you are exactly the same as she is. You are a woman. That you want to spend every minute of your life as a woman. That you want to react with the world and have the world react with you as a female. But how could he keep this guilt and sense of betrayal a secret any longer. He had to tell her. What if she ceased to love him? Never mind, he had to tell her.

He turned on his back and whispered, "Can I talk to you about something? It's important"

"What?" Gail asked sleepily, but on hearing the tone of Josh's voice, added, "Sure."

  

  

  

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