Crystal's StorySite


Me and Diane

by Staci Marie


When Mom saw the neighbor outside my new apartment, she said we'd make a cute couple, so I asked Diane to join me on a photo shoot for a college class.  To my surprise she accepted, teasingly adding, "I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me out."  Then she giggled and held out her hand in a sort of invitation to walk.  I had time, so I reached out my hand as well, and in no time we were sitting on the playground swings about seven blocks away, swinging side-by-side and solving the major concerns of the world.

As daylight faded to evening gloom, she reminded me about the camera around my neck, so I began shooting her, ignoring the real assignment to "Produce a photo which shows the power of the ocean."  Her smile was infectious, her giggle magnetic, and to say I was smitten merely understates the obvious.

When finally we retraced our earlier footsteps, Diane pushed me to my door where she threw her arms around my neck, kissed me on the cheek, then made me promise I'd be at her door the next morning at five.  I nodded, kissed her on the cheek, then disappeared into the darkness.

Once through my own front door, I plugged my digital camera into the computer, downloaded 130 frames, and printed the fifteen best.  She is beautiful, and so easy to talk to.  I shuffled through the images one last time, filed them in my nightstand drawer, set the alarm for 4:30, and retired for the evening.


I tapped gently on her door, wondering why I was up at such an early hour.  Instantly she was outside, pulling me toward her car.

"Where are we going?"

"Hush," she whispered.  "You'll wake the dead."

I followed as instructed and soon found myself traversing sand dunes at the ocean.  She threw down a towel upon which she dropped her sandals and jacket, nodding for me to follow her example.  Knee deep in salt water a few minutes later, Diane pulled me close and whispered, "Watch."

I held tight and wondered what I was supposed to watch as one wave after another washed onto the sandy beach then raced back past us to sea.  Then it happened.  A little bit of light stretched over the hills to the east and suddenly shots of silver raced through the icy surf all around our feet.  Little tiny fish, not two inches long, were everywhere.

"Aren't they beautiful?"

"I've never seen anything like it," I said.

"Yeah, but keep watching.  They'll change."

And pretty soon they did change.  As the sun pushed more light into the sky, the little fish took on the colors of the rainbow.  Blue bullets and yellow, green and red, they were everywhere, but not once did they come close to our legs.

"Now watch close," she said as the first edge of the sun peaked over Mt. Nelmo, and as quickly as they had come, they were gone.  As she pulled away from me, she asked, "Don't you wish you could change that quickly?"

Not quite sure what she meant, I contorted my face and merely stared into her satin blue eyes.

"I guess I mean they're suddenly here, then they turn from silver to colors, then they're gone . . . all in the space of twenty minutes.  When we get home and change for breakfast it will probably take an hour, you know, to wash off the salt water and everything."

"Yeah, I guess they are fast when you look at it that way."  And almost before I finished talking Diane was leading me back up the sandy beach and home.  She was back in the driveway by 7:15 and announced that breakfast would be on the table by eight, so I'd better hurry.  I did, though I was a bit confused with how things were going.


Breakfast started things in a new direction, and within days the two of us were inseparable.  Diane spent her spare time with me and I spent mine with her. 

About mid-October I tapped on her door in the early afternoon, and and was greeted by a flier for a Halloween party.

"Oh, Steve, this could be so much fun. Please say we can go."

I took the flier from her hand and read:



(for Halloween)

October 28


Guys & Gals


Twin Sisters


Twin Brothers


"So, you wanna be my brother?" I knew I was fishing, but any effort was worth a try, considering the alternative.

She grinned as she reached up and took hold of my shirt collars, pulling me into her apartment and giggling, "I always wanted a sister named Stephanie."

I was doomed. In two short weeks I was going to be Diane's twin sister Stephanie. I was not really comfortable with the idea, but she was determined, and more excited than I had seen her over anything.

"Isn't there a concert or something that night? I could get tickets."

"Come on, Stephie. The only thing you're going to get that night is the prize money."

Prize money? Had I missed something? She held up the flier one more time and pointed to the giant starburst I had not seen.




for Most Convincing Twins

of each gender


"We could win $500?"

"Yup! That's $300 for Diane, and $200 for Stephanie."


"Oh, Stevie, you're not gonna quibble over a lousey $50 are you. I mean, we have to win it before we can fight over it."

"Okay. I won't argue."

"Then you will be my sister? Oh, Steve, I think I'm beginning to love you."

"Cool." The love part was good, but I still wasn't sure what I'd been railroaded into. "Are you sure you wanna be twin girls?"

"Now I'd look kinda silly with a moustache, don't you think?"

Oh crap. I was going to lose my moustache. It took me six months to grow it to this point, and now she....

"Come on, Stevie," she giggled, pulling me once again. In her bedroom she had set two chairs before the giant mirror attached to her dresser. "I want you to look at our eyes."

I sat and stared, first at her eyes, then at mine.

"I'm not wearing any makeup today so you can see how much we look alike."

I furrowed my brow and concentrated on the details of our faces. She was right. The shape was nearly identical. Our eyes matched, even to the tiniest little lashes. Our mouths turned up at the corners in a twinish sort of way. Our noses were the same. But there were a few noteable differences as well. She had freckles which could be covered with foundation, but they're so cute. That means she'd probably add them across my nose to match her. And finally, our eyebrows don't match. That could mean she'd draw hers on thicker to match mine, but I had a sick-in-the-stomach feeling she had tweezers in mind.


I turned my focus to her eyes, grinned, then asked, "When are you attacking my moustache and eyebrows?"

She smiled back, then raised both hands in front of her. One held scissors and the other held tweezers. "How 'bout right now?"

"Is this open to discussion?"

"Sure, as long as you say we start right now."

"How 'bout the just the moustache, then you do the eyebrows just before the party?"

"I guess that's okay, except that will make you look kinda funny at the restaurant tonight."


"Well, if we're going to be convincing at the party we'd better get in some sister practice."

It didn't sound very exciting to me, but I did have to admit that it made sense. "What restaurant?"

"Rochelle's Steak House."

"That's a nice dinner house. I can't go to a nice dinner house as a . . . ." And at that point she put her forefinger to my lips and silenced me.

"It's dark, Stevie dear. The lights are turned down really low and nobody will be able to identify anything about you as a male. Your mother wouldn't even recognize you in all that darkness even if you were dressed as yourself."

"So what you're saying is that tonight I will be your twin?"

"Only for dinner . . . . And a walk on the pier."

"Will I be in heels?"

"Of course. And nylons."

"Maybe a reeeeally short pier."

"Nonsense! By the time we finish dinner you'll be a pro in heels."

I heard myself sigh and tell her to proceed, which she did immediately, letting my moustache fall freely to the hardwood floor. I whimpered a time or two for effect, but she didn't feel the least bit compassion for my loss. Instead she giggled and cut more off.

"Okay," she signaled, setting down the scissors and picking up a razor. "Now it's your turn." I walked to the bathroom, turned on the hot water, lathered my face, and finished the job. My skin was extra smoothe when I returned to Diane and her tweezers. She rubbed her fingers across my upper lip, grinned, then said, "That should do just fine."

"I guess."

"Oh, poor baby. You sound like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Yeah, well I notice you didn't have to shave off any moustache or anything."

"I shaved my legs before you got here, then I plucked my eyebrows. Finished just before you knocked and I washed all the evidence down the drain." I still wasn't smiling, so she grabbed my hand and rubbed my finger tips up and down her shin.

"Okay," I giggled. "I believe you."

"Good. Now turn toward me and lean forward." I did as instructed and felt my first little bit of the pain that it takes to be a woman as she plucked eyebrow hairs one at a time. After a while I quit yelping, but the pain never lessened. It just didn't make any sense to act stupid.

When the torture stopped she held a mirror up for me to see what she had accomplished. I was impressed. Beautifully arched and thinned, I was impressed to compliment her ability.

"Now the fun begins," she giggled. "If you're gonna be a girl you're gonna be a girl right down to the skin. So put these on and I'll be back in a few minutes." She handed me a bra and panties, dropped a dress on the back of my chair, then left the room.

I pulled down my pants, then yelled, "Hey, Dianne. What about my legs?"

She stepped back into the doorway, looked quickly at my hairy legs, grinned, and suggested I head to the shower. I picked up the razor, took about three steps, then she stepped back into the doorway and said just a minute. She pulled a little plastic bottle from the cupboard and said I should use that instead of a razor. "Just rub it on everywhere, and I mean everywhere except above the neck, then wash it off in the shower."

Again I did as I was told and in no time was watching clumps of body hair running down the drain. I was smoother than on the day I was born and was beginning to feel a bit anxious as I pulled on the panties then fastened the bra. Finally I pulled the dress on over my head and called Diane.

"No, no, no," she giggled as she came in the room. The dress doesn't go on till after the make up." With that she began pulline up on the dress. It came back over my head, then she replaced it with a white slip, commenting, "I think pink is your color Stephanie. Those panties look really good on you."

"Yeah, right," I mumbled.

"Hey, lighten up, Sis. We're family now, remember?"

I smiled as she tugged the slip down all around me, pulling it into place and working around behind me. Then her hands reached around me from both sides and landed on the empty cups of my bra.

"Whatta ya say we fill these rascals up a little?"


She pulled open a dresser drawer, extracted two silicone breast forms, then reached under the slip to put them in place. I turned to check out my profile in the mirror and grinned just slightly. A transformation was underway and I was beginning to enjoy it. I sat back on the chair in front of Diane and said, "I'm all yours." Immediately she began on my makeup. She applied everything in what seemed like only a few minutes: liquid foundation, pressed powder, false eyelashes, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, lipstick, blush, and eyebrow pencil. Then she replaced my studs with dangling, jewelled earrings and told me to turn and face the mirror one more time.

It wasn't even me staring back from the looking glass. It was Diane, but with my hair. I just kept watching, not even aware that Diane had walked across the room to her closet where she retrieved a wig that was the exact color and style of her hair. She slipped it onto my head and the transformation was complete.

"Well, Stephanie, what do you think?"

I was silent for a moment, then turned slowly and said, "How did you do that? I mean, I look just like you."

She just smiled as she pulled off her blouse and jeans and stood in front of me in bra and panties that matched mine. Then she covered up with a matching slip and sat down. "Watch as I do my makeup," she instructed. "By the time we go to the party you'll have to know how to do this on your own."

I watched intently, making mental notes of everything. When finished she brushed her hair slightly till it fell into place to match my wig. Then she handed me some panty hose and shoes and told me to put them on. I watched as she did the same, copying her every move.

She stood up, then helped me to my feet, except that they didn't feel like my feet because of the teetering.

"Good thing I'm starting you in one inch heels," she giggled, "but we need to be in three-inch heels in two weeks."

"Then we'd better practice a lot."

She smiled at my comment, then leaned forward and kissed me ever so slightly on the mouth. What a shame. That was the first kiss on the lips, and all I get is a little peck so as to not mess up my lipstick, which I shouldn't have been wearing anyway.

"You're pretty, Stephanie."

"That's because I look just like you. You're pretty too."

"You know, we just might win the prize money." This time the thought of winning really sunk in to both of us, and like real twins we turned together to stare at our identical images in the big mirror. Without thought we reached out for each other's hand, then stood hand in hand staring for probably five minutes.

"Come on, Steve, . . . er, Steph. We've gotta practice walking and gestures and carrying a purse and about a million other things." She hurried back out into the living room with me stumbling along behind her.

"Oh my," she continued as the clock chimed four times. "Our reservations are for six. We'd better hurry."


When we entered the restaurant she did all the talking. She ordered for me, she asked the waitress to fill my water glass, and she asked for the bill. We'd worked on my girl voice quite a bit, but she said I had a long way to go. She was right, too. But privately, and in a little more than a whisper, I was able to sound quite feminine.

The dinner was wonderful, Diane was a dream, and the walk on the pier was perfect. With the cooler weather settling in and the threat of rain, only a handful of fishermen lined the old wooden structure and none were at the end, behind the bait shop. We stopped back there to stare out into the thick blackness of the starless night and went rather quickly from hand holding, to hugging, to kissing.

But it only lasted a minute before we heard footsteps coming our way.

"You silly lesbian," she giggled. "We'd better head for home before somebody loses her balance in those heels and falls into the ocean." So we headed for home . . . and the ordeal of turning myself back into a man.

We kissed goodnight, I picked up my things, then Di handed me a bag stuffed full of something and tied shut. "Look at this in the morning, not tonight."

I thanked her, kissed her on the cheek, noticing that I left a faint lip print, then went home to my apartment right next door.

As I undressed, curiosity got the best of me and I untied the bag. The top item was a sheer, pink nighty with a note attached. It read: I knew you wouldn't make it till morning. You should have sweet dreams in this. I left the bra and panties on, and after taking off all the makeup I put the wig back on. Finally I pulled the nighty down over my head, modeled it in front of my bathroom mirror, then went to bed.

The next morning Diane woke me with her insessent pounding. I bolted from my bed, and without thinking I opened the door, finally realizing that I was still looking very much like a sleepy Stephanie. Fortunately it was Diane. She saw me, giggled, then said, "Why don't you straighten your wig and let me in, Cutie."

I stepped back from the door and as she entered she unbutoned her robe to reveal a light blue version of the same nighty I was wearing.

"How's my new sister?"

"Wow! You're hot"

"You think so?"

"Heck yeah."

"Cool, thanks. But you know what that means, don't you?"

"No, what?" I scratched the crown of my head and felt the whole wig move.

Diane giggled, "It means you're hot too . . . cause we're twins."

I just nodded and stared.

"How long do you think it will take you to get dressed as my sister this morning?"

"By myself?"

"Yup!" She smiled that big beautiful smile that attracted me to her in the first place. "Makeup and everything. Except I see you've still got breasts left over from last night. Don't you know that a lady never sleeps in her bra?"

I blushed a little, but said nothing.

"I guess maybe you liked the feel of having breasts?"

I looked up, into her eyes, and could feel my face turning a brighter shade of red than before. "How did you know?"

"I like having breasts too."

Wow, now I was three for three as my face continued on up the red scale.

"Anyway, Steph, I'm thinking about a trip down the coast a ways. Maybe to Laguna Beach. Or how about the mission at San Juan Capistrano?"

"In heels?"

"Look in the bag. I'll be back at nine." And with that she was out the door, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.


The bag held clothes, makeup, pink tennis shoes, and a little jar of makeup remover. "I guess I was supposed to find this last night," I mumbled to nobody in particular.

They worked remarkably well. In just a few minutes all the makeup that hadn't been smeared on my pillow case was cleaned from my face and I was ready for the shower.


When Di showed up at my door again, she came in and fixed my makeup. "You did pretty good for a beginner." Then she pulled some big hoop earrings from her purse and replaced the dangling gold I'd worn the night before. I was much more confident than I was fifteen hours earlier, but knew my voice could get me in trouble if my overall appearance didn't get me beat up first.

"Talk to me, Stephanie."

"What do you . . . ."

"No, no, no. In your girl voice."

"Hi, Diane," I squeaked to her delight. "I feel like breakfast. Want a donut?"

"Well, you sound better than last night. But we'd better do a lot of talking today. And no, I don't want a donut. We have to watch our girlish figures, you know."

"Don't tell me you're gonna starve me."

"Girl voice?"

I sighed, then repeated, "Don't tell me you're gonna starve me."

"Much better. And no, I won't starve you. Now grab your purse and let's go."

I looked confused, then looked where I'd dumped everything and found a flat, hippie-style fabric purse with tassles, beads, and a long shoulder strap. I put my wallet, checkbook, and keys, inside.

"Don't forget your makeup, Sis."

I did as instructed, then paused and grabbed a handful of Kleenex as well.

"Now you're thinking," Diane said as I turned to join her. And just as I did she sprayed me with perfume. I giggled, and Di added, "Wow, even a girlish giggle."


The weekend was outstanding. We did lots of walking and by Sunday night I had the voice pretty much under control. My confidence was building, and I was liking what I saw in the mirror. Once while shopping Diane walked away while I wasn't looking in her direction so that I could figure it all out on my own that she was not my crutch. This was a good thing since I had to attend my classes the next two weeks as a girl. I didn't think so at first, but Di convinced me that all the practice I could get would simply improve our chances of winning the Twin Contest.

I approached my professors before each class to explain what I was doing, and their reactions were mixed. Most grinned or laughed, but Dr. Millbright just shook his head and said, "You'll be sorry. I had a student last year, a young man named Dave I believe, who did the same thing you're doing and never changed back. Looked a little bit like you, if I remember correctly." I didn't respond verbally, but my expression must have been choice. Didn't change back? How weird is that?


Finally the night of the contest came. We were up bright and early to take care of some last minute shopping, got our nails done to match, then returned to Diane's apartment to relax for the rest of the day. Or so I thought.

"Take off your shirt, Steve." That was the first time she had called me Steve in two weeks. "Now take off the bra." I must have shared an inquisitive look. "I called you Steve because you still have a male chest. We need to take care of that."

"These falsies work, don't they?"

"They're alright." She sounded like she knew what she was talking about. "But since you're enjoying this girl stuff so much I thought I'd help you feel a little more feminine this evening. She opened a dresser drawer and pulled out two different breast forms with some kind of fabric coming out all around.

"Let's attach these right to your skin. Then you could go topless and pass as a girl." I was a little bit nervous as she applied surgical glue to the breast forms, let it dry just slightly, then she put it in place. The loose edges were then glued also and blended into my skin with makeup like the makeup artists in Hollywood would use. I turned to face the mirror and saw a woman's chest where there should be no breasts. I immediately felt the weight of them and watched them bounce and jiggle in the mirror as I moved and turned.

"You're incredible, Diane. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Oh, girls know lots of secrets."

"What else do you know?"

She silently went back to the drawer and pulled out something that looked very much like a full, thick pair of underpants from the rear. Then she turned it around to reveal an artificial vagina.

"Holy . . . ."

"Girl voice, Stephanie."

But I didn't say anything. Neither did she. And as she came toward me I could see that this new item of femininity was to be glued on as well. She held it in my direction and said, "You'll have to get into these on your own, then I'll help with the glue and makeup."

It was a tight fit, a very tight fit, and working my penis into the hole that was provided for it was quite a challenge. It was incredible. I would be able to urinate without taking them off, and anybody that looked up my dress would swear I was a real live girl.

I returned to Diane and her can of surgical glue. About an hour later I was complete. Then we got dressed in skimpy clothing and went for a walk around the apartment complex, braless, of course, so that I could get used to my new anatomy. We got looks, and we got whistles. At first it bothered me, even after two weeks as a girl, but pretty soon it didn't bother me at all. In fact, I kinda liked the attention.

We were ready and were certain we'd win. So back in the apartment we freshened our makeup, brushed and curled our hair, dressed in beautiful, low-cut gowns and three-inch heels, then went to the party.


"I can't believe we lost."

Diane just giggled at me. "We didn't really lose, Steph. We've had a lot of fun, and we were so convincing that they thought we were both really girls. That's why we lost."

"Yeah, but . . . ."

"No, Stephanie. No buts. We didn't win the contest, but look at the relationship we have developed. We really are like sisters."

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. It's just that I'm afraid I might be too right."

"What do you mean, 'too right'?"

"You're way too comfortable as a woman. You act more like a woman than I do some days . . . and in some situations."

"Yeah. I've noticed that too."

"So, what's the deal? Are you going back or not?"

"Diane, Do you realize that you've never kissed me when I was dressed like a guy? I mean, you've only kissed me when I was a girl. And your kisses have been quite passionate when I've been dressed and made up as a girl. You've even called me a cute little lesbian. I'm wondering if you want me to go back."

"No! I don't want you to go back. I've been thinking a lot about it, and you're right. It's Stephanie I've fallen in love with, just like I believe it's Diane you have fallen in love with."

I just stared for a moment. A long moment. Then I leaned away from my homemade twin and asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Who do you think Dr. Millbright was talking about two weeks ago?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Think about it. You are mentally a guy, and you fell in love with a cute girl named Diane. I am mentally a guy, and I fell in love with a cute girl named Stephanie. Now what's so wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with it is that when I was kissing you, I was kissing another guy."

"No, Steve. You were kissing Diane. And I was kissing Stephanie. And what's most important is that we both liked it."

She was right. Er, he was right. We did enjoy it. "So, your boobs are glued on too?"

"No. I glued them on for about nine months. Then I got implants."

"So you're really going to become a girl?"

"Yup! I'm getting the rest of the surgery in January." Diane fell silent and just stared into my eyes. I leaned toward her and realized that I really was hopelessly in love with a beautiful girl. Our lips met somewhere over the coffee table, our eyes closed, and we embraced for several minutes.

"Diane?" My voice was very feminine, a soft whisper in her ear.


"What are we going to do when we're both real girls?"

She said nothing, but instead just smiled, pulled me closer, and together we dropped to the floor and embraced in a loving, passionate kiss.




2007 by Staci Marie. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.