This story isn't based on someone from actual discussions with her and her motivations. It's not meant to be anti transsexual but it is designed to show that the motivations for transition need not be the classical, "woman trapped in a man's body" that we have all been led to believe. In many ways it's a sad story but above all, it's totally believable.

Perhaps these women that feel like my heroine combine the best of both genders, that male obsessive side and that beautiful feminine side. I'll leave it to you to decide whether you would really like to be the soulmate of the main character. elaine.w@cwcom.com.

 

We All Need a Hobby

by Elaine

Ó 2003

 

Part 1

Chapter 1. – Hobbies

I've often heard the expression. "We all need a hobby."

I've always wondered from where that sprang. We all have enough things to occupy our busy lives but somehow we are encouraged to take up that extra something we really enjoy doing. It might be something to keep us busy and motivate us. It's such a varied world that people pursue all kinds of different things just to wile away their time.

Some hobbies can consume a great deal of time and become quite an obsession. For example some people are enthusiasts about their collections of little bits of used coloured paper called stamps. They carefully put them away in a big book in the hope that one day they will be worth a lot of money.

Others unbelievably stand on cold windswept railway platforms writing down engine numbers as trains of coal slowly rumble past.

I often wonder what those people would do if we stopped using stamps or the railway companies blanked out the numbers from all their engines so only they knew what they were.

Or am I just being mean?

After all what's the harm in collecting engine train numbers or sticking some used coloured bits of paper in a book?

For others their hobby might be home maintenance or collecting foreign beer bottle tops or whatever. Others like to race motorcars or motorcycles going round and round in ever decreasing circles. While some just like to stand at the bar and drink all their problems away.

In my case, I've never done any of those things, though I do have a hobby. My hobby is a little different from collecting stamps, or train numbers. Come to think of it, it's not like deer hunting, fishing or gardening either but it's been my hobby for several years and now it has become my way of life. The way this hobby is designed it doesn't leave you any choice in the matter. It does become a way of life. An obsession if you like.

My hobby all started when I lucked out on some Internet investments when the market peaked a few years back. I was able to sell out completely realising gains of a few hundred thousand dollars on shares I'd bought for next to nothing just a few months earlier.

Of course I wasn't completely successful with my investments but by and large my bank account was awash with cash just as the market came to its senses and started to nosedive.

Around the same time I lost my good paying job as an accountant with a group of churches on the West Coast. I'm pretty sure I could have found another job easily enough however with that load of money burning a hole in the bank vaults, there was no longer any need to rush.

I decided that my career could wait a while or even change completely until my new hobby began or when I became tired of it.

There were a number of friends who had told me that my new hobby wasn't one they wanted to know much about. Pretty soon I saw that their friendships were worthless as one by one they stopped calling or kept in touch.

I think that some men can become obsessive about their hobbies and their relationships can break down as a result. I was prepared for that to happen with me but it was sad that it did.

I had always intended that April my girlfriend should get involved and help with my hobby because I didn't want her to complain that I didn't spend much time with her.

However it was a big surprise when after a few weeks of beginning my new hobby, April just packed her bags and left.

As she slammed the front door shut, she shouted, "You are freaking mad Steve."

As she drove away to a new life with someone else who could give her something I didn't want to do, I was a little upset at first but then I decided that now nothing would affect my new hobby. With April gone it would be easier to pursue my hobby and it didn't take me long to overlook her leaving like that.

After another few weeks, I decided that I was much better off without her in my life anyway. Sad but true.

If anything April's moving out gave me the chance to pursue my new passion with greater dedication and conviction. It was easy to see that April would've just been in the way of my hobby in the long run. This hobby would need some male company along the way and I'm not sure she would've appreciated what I had in mind.

I guess you all must be wondering what kind of man would let his hobby come between him and his longstanding relationship?

Well like some men I can be determined, ruthless and singularly minded to the point of obsession. In the same way that some men can hunt all weekend, weekend after weekend it's easy to see that I could be the same at times. Obsessed is a good word for it and I really have been singularly minded about it all.

Unlike some hobbies though, this one required that I tell my family of my choice and decision. I was obviously expecting them to say I was crazy putting my hobby before everything else.

When I called my Mom and told her she honestly told me, "I've always suspected you were different from other boys."

"But Mom I'm not a boy anymore," I claimed and in truth I wasn't. I'd grown up.

"So I see," she muttered going back to her refuge in the kitchen shaking her head and leaving me with dad.

My stepfather flatly refused to talk to me from that moment onwards and still doesn't acknowledge me when I go home. He told my Mom he would have nothing more to do with me and said that he was glad that I wasn't his son. So my hobby eventually led to a break up of my relations with my parents and effectively I found myself cut-off and alone.

My brother called me and said I was a mental case and that I was obsessed. He was right of course so now I was obsessed, wealthy and alone. However I vowed I would find other people who were also good hobbyists like me.

I found in particular one guy who was destined to become my closest and best friend. A father of two small boys, he'd decided that even they would have to take a back seat and have less importance so that he could pursue his life long ambition.

So what is this hobby I can hear you ask? What can cause such upheaval and family relationships to be broken?

Before I tell you there's a song in the musical My Fair Lady where the hero asks, "Why can't a woman be more like a man?"

 

Chapter 2. Planning

In my case as you'll have probably guessed by now my hobby was to become more like a woman in every conceivable way rather than remain a man. I wanted breasts, a vagina, new feminine facial features, softer voice and long flowing hair. In short the works.

What is the point of doing that you might ask?

Before I answer, 'why not?' The reason is linked to my past and how I saw my future.

As I said earlier I was successful, with lots of money in the bank. I could have any woman I ever wanted and believe me I'd had a few in every possible way of my free spirited 33-year-old life.

That wasn't obviously enough as now seems fairly obvious when April had walked out on me. I sometimes wish she'd stayed but it was not meant to be and she did try hard to persuade me not to take up this hobby.

So there you have it, Steve Murphy would become Stephanie Murphy in a series of carefully planned moves and procedures. This was going to be the journey of a lifetime as all around me stayed the same but people's outward perception of me was about to change drastically and completely forever.

Once started there would be no going back, my careful planning would see to that. I would make it impossible to go back to ever being Steve. This would be a one way ride to womanhood.

Although not specifically a male trait, men are good at planning and I have always been good at planning things. From planning my move out west from Cleveland to planning my arrangements in the office, I was renowned for this ability. In this case, very careful planning would be needed to avoid any delays so I decided that my plan for this hobby should be no different.

I would plan the whole thing from beginning to end and with each goal achieved it would be harder and harder to go back if not impossible to being Steve. That notion of being Stephanie was extremely scary and arousing to me in the beginning. It would be just something that's happened. Something that will give me pride and satisfaction but then of course it was certainly going to take up a lot of my time. In fact it would take up all my time in the beginning.

At that stage I wasn't sure whether I would get the most satisfaction from having achieved my planned objectives on time and to budget or whether it would be just being a woman or maybe it would be both.

One thing I discovered about this new hobby though is that it does take up a lot of time. Without a nine to five job, I had plenty of spare time of course but in the early days it took up all of my waking hours. It was also going to have an important effect on my life in much the same way as a rock climber faces when he's on his way down a mountain after his rope broke! Or perhaps I was like the big game hunter who ran out of ammunition just as the bull elephant turned and then rushed towards him.

So this hobby would be the death of me. Or rather the death of Steve through his eradication and elimination, like some murderer on the run going underground. Only in this case Steve would be replaced by the attractive and hopefully quite beautiful Stephanie.

Money would be no object so only the best operations and procedures could be funded. Pain might be a problem but pain relief would help me achieving my final goal. That of becoming a sexy and quite attractive young woman.

 

Chapter 3. Inspiration

You might wonder what caused this new hobby of mine to suddenly feature so strongly or emerge in me. The answer is quite simple. A driver's licence.

I can hear you ask, "You're kidding! How did that effect you?"

Well the licence was that belonging to my friend who had just changed hers from her old male. Now on the licence her new gender was duly marked as female. At that moment as I looked at it and again at her I realised that I felt jealous like a man whose pretty wife was chatting up some attractive hunk at a party. I wanted that too. I wanted my own feminine looking picture on my own female driving licence.

"Wow," I think I said looking at the picture and comparing it to the now quite attractive woman before me. She'd changed in just 6 short months losing much of her life-long masculinity with such ease.

The picture taken professionally certainly flattered her as her face in real life still displayed some male traits including the remnants of a beard and a squarish jaw. However there was no doubting she was going to succeed and if she could do it I was convinced that I could do it too.

I hadn't seen Kate or Ken as she'd been called for several months but bumping into her was an awakening. A realisation that I had to do the same thing or it would be too late suddenly washed over me. Already my beard was thickening up and my hairline was receding. Maybe I still had time to halt it?

Of course I recognised my friend thinking the long hair was a revival of the hippy culture. It was only on closer examination that I noticed the jewellery, eyeliner make-up and arched eyebrows that me feel glad that she'd had the balls to do it.

"What the hell happened to you Ken?" I asked as we faced one another in the aisle of the local supermarket.

"It's Kate now," she said demurely. "And I've decided to stop living a lie and become the woman I've always known I was."

Her voice was sounding slightly less deep than I remembered. I say she because she was still sounding like my old buddy Ken and despite the changes still looked like him too.

As she stood in front of me at over 6 foot tall, she was fooling nobody and I truly thought she'd obviously made a bad decision.

However when I walked out and thought about it all, I was just 5 foot 8 inches tall, I was slightly overweight and thought I had a face that could pass with some modifications. I figured my prospects were much better than Kate's.

As an aside Kate is now very happily married ironically to a guy named Ken who met her in an Internet chat room. Despite being tall, she is really quite attractive with long blonde shoulder length hair. So you see it can happen.

Anyway meeting Kate got me thinking. Maybe I could do this and I decided that it was what I really needed.

 

Chapter 4. Gender Dysphoria

To be honest none of the women I'd ever dated had really measured up to my ideal woman. So maybe I could become my own ideal woman instead?

It was going to be fun to find out. So I read avidly on the subject of transsexualism and attended the local TV/TG support group regularly.

I was always a closet crossdresser but I never realised I could have the courage to go out dressed as a woman all the time and eventually become a female. I think that in some respects my story is similar to many other transsexuals. From an early age I really felt different.

How different you might ask?

Well for a start I never felt really comfortable being a boy or later a man. I was hopeless at sports and didn't find the male bonding that can go on to be satisfying or good. I was a bit of a loner too and yet I loved company.

I'd realised a long time ago I was different from other boys.

How different you might ask?

I always preferred the company of girls but seeing a shy inhibited boy like me they always shunned me. The boys on their part saw me as somewhat odd, not taking an interest in the rough and tumble of school sports or their shower room frolics.

I think the cause of the problem was my build. I was always small in stature, thin and skinny. I was smaller in build than even my brother when I was 12 and he was 10 years old.

My father had died shortly after I was born and my widowed mother with my Aunt Rose kept a tight rein on me as I grew up before my mother remarried about 10 years later. I guess I was always exposed to female influence and control even after she got married. My Aunt made sure her nephew was no problem to my parent's tidy existence and I was always available to do their bidding.

A few days after my twelfth birthday, I was alone in the house while my mother and my aunt went over to a neighbour's house to see a new-born baby girl. I wasn't so disposed towards babies but soon found myself moping around the house.

I had no friends to play with so I went from room to room and eventually settled in my mother's room. I opened some drawers and explored inside feeling the nylon, silk and other soft clothes. I put them to my nose and breathed in the sweet smell of my mother's perfume. It was strong and little did I know those feelings would last a lifetime. Now I have my own lingerie and my own clothes. They smell like her clothes did because I now use the same perfume she used to use.

Funny old life isn't it?

With no one around, the effect was immediate and I quickly stripped off, and started to dress in her stockings and panties. I tried on a bra but it was much too big. My aunt had just recently been given some new party dresses and I rushed through to get into Julia's dress. I slipped it on and did up the rear facing zip before tying the bow.

That was a defining moment when I realised that I would like to be able to dress whenever I wanted without feeling like it was wrong or bad.

I dressed on and off thereafter but was fortunate to never be caught though my mother must have seen how disturbed her drawers were. I suppose I quite hoped that this crossdressing would wear itself out but it never did so while I went to college I was always doing some secret crossdressing. That's the way it stayed until I saw that car driver's licence.

The decision to visit the support group brought me into contact with someone called Kim Morrison. Fortunately for her that was her old male name too, so that made the process so much easier for her I guess.

 

Chapter 5. My hobby begins

After I made that fateful decision to go for it, I started extensive electrolysis sessions immediately with someone Kim knew who had a beauty parlour nearby.

At first I had to suffer the embarrassment of having my beard removed hair by hair but after a while I became immune to the obvious stares and there were times where I did 12 hours of electrolysis a week! Slowly but surely I stopped any prospect of me ever becoming a bearded lady.

Kim also gave me the name of a local TG friendly doctor and I was able to get the referrals I needed to start the process rolling. I was sure I wanted this so much that even at this early stage I contacted the best surgeon in the USA to lock in the price of my sex change surgery. That was despite knowing that it was two long years away at least. Well I did say this was a hobby and I was good at planning.

However if I wanted to meet my goal of becoming a woman I also desperately needed to begin female hormones. So I had to undergo 12 hours of therapy just to convince the doctor I was a suitable case for hormone replacement therapy. It was easier than I thought but 12 one hour appointments spread over 12 weeks consumed a lot more time than I expected and I really wanted this part out of the way quickly.

After those sessions were over, I was given my first hormone shot. That was a real emotional moment for me when I left the doctor's office holding back floods of tears.

When I reached the sidewalk I had feelings of, "Oh my God, what am I doing?" mixed with, "Thank God, I'm finally doing the right thing."

Around 4 months into my two-year schedule, I started to notice the effects of the hormones on my body. Despite my diet change, the percentage of body fat on my body started to increase around my rear and on my thighs. My skin became much softer to the touch but the biggest change was that my nipples became very tender. I mean really tender.

I hadn't felt that since puberty when my nipples were quite painful as my male hormones kicked in. Now the nipples were puffier but as yet there was no distinct breast mass noticeable.

Just a few weeks into my electrolysis sessions, I decided that my face wasn't as passable as it might be. With some scary feelings I decided that I would have some nose surgery to make my nostrils less wide and to remove some of the bulk and the ridge on the top.

Kim told me that I didn't need that surgery to pass as a woman but I'd already decided that it was certainly too manly for my taste and that was after all what this was all about. My taste in women was that I was going to be as good as I could be.

So I booked into a local private clinic with a good reputable plastic surgeon. He did a good job on my nose and it looked a lot better after several weeks healing as the bruising and swelling disappeared. The surgery certainly improved my look and helped to soften my features a lot. After two months, the results were already showing through and it was certainly worth the $3000 I paid.

It was around that time that my brother contacted me and told me about my stepfather and mother disinheriting me. He added with some venom that he wouldn't contact me again either unless I changed my mind about what I was doing. I told him that was too difficult to do now that I'd started. In truth I could have done it but the thought of that was too much for me to bear.

After I put the phone down I cried but was resolved to continue. That reaction from my family was certainly the worst negative reaction I'd ever experienced about my hobby. From then on my relationships started to improve because let's face it, they couldn't get any worse.

Over the next few months my hair continued to grow out and my features softened a lot more so I knew that I had to quickly take one more step along this great new road I had paved for myself. If I was to avoid any potential embarrassments at the hands of the police then I was going to need a new ID card and soon.

I was looking less and less like Steve with every passing day. My hair grew quite quickly below my shoulders and it was easily styled so that once I took it out of a ponytail it had the desired effect on everyone. When I had it styled, I loved the way it framed my face and hid my ears.

So if I was out dressed as Stephanie and I was ever asked for my ID, I was keen that there should be no embarrassments. That was another step in my transition and the next was to change my name legally to Stephanie. I applied to the local court to have it done and it surprised me just how easy it was. Then I petitioned to have my gender and name changed on my driver's license.

When I received the permission letter from the state, I felt extremely emotional and must have cried for about half an hour with happiness. I thought hard about it, little or no facial hair, no male name, no male gender marked on my driver's licence, a pair of budding breasts and a growing blonde mane of blonde hair cascading down my back. That male prison and its big high walls I'd been in all my life were slowly being knocked down.

Kim told me with some happiness in her voice that I'd passed the half way mark after just 6 months. She was obviously very proud and happy for me besides being astonished that I could progress so quickly.

I was also stunned that my transition was going so well. The only thing that I was having problems with in my daily ability to pass as a woman were a prominent Adam's apple and a deep male voice that no matter how I tried I just couldn't shake.

 

Chapter 6. Voice changes

There was some discussion about voice surgery to take care of the problem at a support group meeting around that time and that decided it for me. It struck me that if I didn't have to think about my voice and how I spoke, then that would take the matter completely out of my control. My voice would then always sound higher no matter what I said and how I said it. I decided that this change was essential and would be better in the long run. Finding out that it was irreversible gelled me into action.

Before my surgery I'd tried voice tapes, I tried to adjust my voice in many ways but it would just revert back to the male timbre with often embarrassing consequences.

Just a few days before my voice surgery I had one bad encounter in a local store and that convinced me that the only solution was surgery.

Do you want to know more about that bad encounter?

Well it was the usual waiting in line to buy some food in the local store and a little kid was crying. I put my hand out to say, "there now, there it's all right."

The boy though wouldn't be consoled but when I spoke, it spooked him so bad to hear my deep voice he stopped crying. My voice must have been deeper than I intended because the mother looked at me as if I was a freak.

That really made my mind made up, I booked into the hospital with the best surgeon in the West Coast. It was arranged that he would see me quickly to do the surgery if I paid an extra $1000. It was certainly worth it.

Several weeks after what turned out to be really painful surgery, my voice settled down to what it sounds like today. Though the pitch is higher and I'm happy with the range. I can't do the deep bass sounds I used to do while my singing range and speaking abilities are now a bit limited. The doctor also took care of my Adam's apple and pinned my sticky out ears back at the same time.

The net result was a vast improvement in my looks but the transformation to my voice was the biggest shock of all. Even I wasn't quite prepared for the softness of it when I played back some tapes talking to myself. Even when I tried an angrier louder voice it all seemed to be soft and melodious. Now I didn't sound like a man, look like a man all I had left was the little mannish thing between my legs.

My plan was working.

Hindsight's a great thing but I think perhaps I should have taken speech therapy or given myself more time. Of course now it makes no difference because I can only speak with a squeaky soft female voice and no amount of effort makes it otherwise.

Although the HRT was working on making my skin softer, my dick was still able to get hard if I wanted it. So I would stroke myself while looking at the gorgeous woman I was becoming in the mirror.

I would come strongly in my hand knowing that I was on a one way ride to femininity that I had bought. 'I can't turn back now,' was the strongest feeling in my mind and the autoerotic feelings I had were quite intense at that time. My feelings were about to change as you are to find out but at that time my mind was set. My path to womanhood was a straight one. Hopefully I would make it even straighter.

It was around that time, several months into my transition that I also reached the point in my electrolysis regime where my entire face was completely cleared in just one session. When I walked outside into the warm moist air that day, I realised that there was now nothing to stop me living full time as a woman at last.

That was both a scary and wonderful feeling all at the same time.

 

Chapter 7. Becoming a woman.

When someone finds a rare stamp then that must be a good feeling that they've achieved something and that's exactly how I felt. All my TS girlfriends were quick to congratulate me with the speed that I managed to achieve my transformation.

It was then that a strange and quite unexpected thing happened along the way. For all my careful planning I hadn't envisaged that anyone else would be interested in me for who I was or who I might appear to be. So it was quite a surprise when men suddenly started taking a big interest in me.

They would watch me move down the street, they would whistle as I passed building sites and I had doors opened up for me as I entered. I loved the idea that they all thought I was a girl when all the time I was something quite different.

After all my surgical procedures I was now blessed with very delicate feminine features and I was a lot better at the mannerisms and movements than I ever dreamed possible. I had reached a point in my life where I could go anywhere and pass completely as a woman. My dream had become reality.

Of course now I was able to buy the clothes I'd always wanted to wear. I bought lots of skirts and dresses, heels oh lots of heels in all shapes and sizes. I loved buying lingerie and couldn't pass anywhere that sold silky night dresses or co-ordinated bra and panty sets.

After a shopping spree I would take my purchases home and parade in front of the mirror seeing how well the clothes fit me. Usually I would wear my heels around the apartment to get used to wearing them. They sometimes took a lot to break in and from the day my face was cleared in one sitting I never went out of the apartment in anything less than a 2" heel. Often they were higher and I loved the sound of the spikes on the sidewalk as I walked.

It all helped my feminine image of course. Another nail in Steve's coffin only in this case they were 4" long.

I started attending my local church dressed as a woman. I was dressing full time as a woman and all my male clothes were shipped off in the back of a garbage collection truck.

I didn't want anyone to know Steve ever existed and by this time I had been living in a new upmarket apartment miles away from my previous place. I just started living as Stephanie in my own girlie place and I had a great time turning the apartment into a really feminine fun palace.

There was a tear of happiness in my eye as I went back into my apartment to speak with Kim after I watched the garbage truck pull away with all Steve's clothes inside.

She smiled at me and said, "you're doing the right thing Stef."

"Am I?" I asked suddenly unsure and realising my last physical association with Steve was disappearing up the lane in the back of that garbage truck.

"Sure," she enthused giving me another warm hug. "You already look good, imagine what it'll be like when you've had your surgery. No one would ever know about your past."

"Yes but that's still a year away," I moaned thinking that the next year was going to be tougher than I imagined. I felt I was ready right there and then to have my surgery. I couldn't wait another year could I?

"Your voice, your curves, your long straight blonde hair. There's nothing to stop you having surgery now."

"If you must know I've already booked it," I confessed. "I booked it right at the start."

"Who with?" she asked not picking up on my planned arrangements.

"Oh Doctor Peltier," I replied innocently.

"Oh my God you have all the luck I can't afford his fees."

"I'd be unhappy about paying them too now he's doubled his charges but I booked ahead on my credit card and locked in the price."

"You lucky bitch," said Kim smiling. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Just good planning I guess," I replied honestly but was thrilled that I had done it. "When is it you go to Thailand?" I'd seen some of the results from Thailand and hadn't been impressed as Peltier's surgery.

"Next May and it seems like 10 years away," she said unhappily.

There we were both talking about two potentially life-threatening operations that would complete the image we both wanted so desperately. It was just like going to the Dentist and so matter of fact.

"Are you scared?" I asked suddenly.

"About what?" she asked right back.

"Oh you know. The fact that you might not be orgasmic?" I asked. It was something I had thought about before. That I might be able to get it up anymore wasn't a problem but to lose the ability to orgasm now that was unthinkable.

"I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't," she said. "But no the end result is what I want. Besides I haven't had any sexual arousal in months. The spiro I take has taken care of that."

I realised that though that might happen despite my misgivings to Kim.

 

Chapter 8. Kim and I

As we spoke it became clear she wanted more than a cup of coffee for helping me with packing Steve's clothes.

Within a few minutes we were necking and after 15 we were in bed sucking each other off. Unlike me when she came her cum was clear and watery signalling that she'd completely lost the ability to produce sperm. Her clitty was also quite small and didn't get as big as mine still did. We sucked each other dry and then spooned most of the night.

My cock was enjoying her ministrations so much that I almost changed my plans about the surgery. As I came down from the high she'd given me, I wondered if I could live with her as a shemale. I soon came to realise that wouldn't be possible.

My hobby was the total annihilation of Steve and the male in me and nothing less would do. And what could be more male than a penis! No way!

Kim must have read my mind though because she asked, "would you reconsider having the surgery so we could make love like that again?"

"No I've no intention of staying like this," I said removing the condom and throwing it down the john.

Though we remained good friends that was the first and last time we made love. Besides men were much more interesting than another transsexual.

 

Chapter 9. Implants and Mr Right

There were times when I was overwhelmed by what I was doing to myself. There's little doubt my emotions were being increased by my increasingly massive daily hormone intake that was religiously consumed.

Even at church I was the subject of much male attention and it was still quite a shock to learn that some wanted to date me. Then I found that women confided in me with their problems in a way I never dreamed possible. It was a whole new life and I loved every second of it!

Like most transsexuals I'd struggled for a long time over my sexual orientation. I'd obviously been a heterosexual male all my life but now suddenly my fantasies generally involved a man and being his submissive sexual partner. I wanted to be penetrated and to be beneath some hunk of a man in bed but that was going to have to wait until I was ready to receive him.

Despite that though I decided it was time to navigate the dating waters to see what could be learned before I bedded Mr Right.

However despite many long months on female hormones, I realised that my breasts were really not growing as well as I would have liked. I was disappointed when my therapist indicated that they were not likely to grow to the C-cup size that I really desired. It was agreed then that I could go for breast implants so I chose a good plastic surgeon who specialised in breast augmentation who was agreeable to the operation.

Of course when I called him and asked if he did transsexuals. He replied, "yes my dear, I do all kinds here. Even women who are a D cup and who still want a bigger cleavage."

He recommended the new saline implants and I'm glad I chose them after reading the scare stories about using silicone.

The operation was over very quickly and efficiently. They used a small incision under each armpit to insert the implant and then inflate them with saline solution so that it filled the area behind each nipple with realistic looking breasts.

By God did it hurt though when I came around after the surgery. Never have I been in such pain. Not even the final operation hurt as bad as my stretched chest did that day. The doctor said that the skin was quite resilient but it was obviously stretched more than I ever imagined it would. I really needed a lot of painkillers to get me through that first night. The odd thing was I really loved my breasts and yet they hurt so much. Quite a paradox I would say.

When I got up and about after the first day it was really odd looking down at the two large sticky out bumps on my chest as I got up to pee. As I stood in front of the bowl they obstructed the view of my now quite small penis venting a bladder full of pee.

They took some getting used too over the next few months and even now I find them a joy and a pain. Right from the start I was pleased with the way they looked. I had thought that maybe they would just stick out of my ribs like two vertical quivering jellies. In fact they have a classic shape and looked just like the real thing. That look was going to be so important when I bedded my first date.

 

Chapter 10. Surgery

In the end my transition took just 22 crazy months. I know it sounds such a short length of time but it seemed to drag on forever as I lived through it. I always seemed to be counting the days down to my final surgery operation. The day I would finally and completely become a female.

In hindsight I don't think I really needed the final operation, I'd made such convincing progress, the cuts between my legs were almost irrelevant except for my peace of mind. It was also a big risk where I could be left without the ability to orgasm and to feel like that wouldn't have made me very happy.

I had thought that I could live as a shemale or a pre-op TS but it slowly dawned on me that when I went full-time that I would have little option but to go all the way. Little things like taking a shower where all of me was female in appearance except between my legs meant that I had to just go and get it over with.

I had always been happy with the size of my penis and I'd neglected it towards the end only to be told that it was important to keep it as large as possible. The bigger it was the deeper I would be and so I set about keeping it as big as I could. It felt strange playing with something I hated and I knew that I couldn't continue doing that for very long.

It looked and felt like some large growth between my legs and it just had to go as soon as possible. So after some negotiations I was able to put myself on the waiting list and I was astonished when I was called up at short notice to have the operation that would finally define me as Stephanie.

On the day before the big event, I was sure that this was the right step as I clicked into the hospital in my new heels. I'd just had my nails and hair done at the salon and was in a good mood as I checked into my room. As I unpacked I decided this surgery wouldn't be the last step in my transition as I still wasn't completely happy with my body shape.

The sex change surgery would certainly be a major event in my life but I also needed some liposuction to my waist. I decided that the hourglass contouring women took for granted was also essential.

However sex change surgery is irreversible and as the afternoon before the surgery went on I became very uptight and uneasy. I felt that finally Steve was on death row and he wouldn't bother me again when Stephanie was finally born. I didn't realise that I could be so wrong.

Throughout the last night I struggled with my emotions. I played with my penis a lot wondering what it would feel like to have my plumbing re-arranged. I was prepared for the pain that I knew would happen but I was also very keen to have it happen. I wanted rid of the last part of Steve's maleness.

Surprisingly I was in a good mood as they prepared me for surgery the next morning and was joking with the theatre staff as they wheeled me down the corridor towards the theatre. I remember the numbness spreading up my arm before I went under but just three hours later I awoke. It was a done deal and I was all female. There was no way Steve could undo what I had just done to him. He was dead and Stephanie was alive at last. I was doped up and I was told I smiled as I went back to sleep in my private room.

The first two days were the worst and that was an understatement, as I had to adjust to the IV tubes and the knawing aches and pain. The pain wasn't so bad as I'd feared because of my liberal use of painkillers but it did wear me down after a while. They had me up walking quickly though I was never going to grace any catwalk feeling like I did.

I suddenly started to cry a lot and was always very emotional. Maybe the reduced male hormone levels that I knew must be happening, kicked in faster or something.

The first time I dilated was an interesting experience. To see that plastic thing sticking out of my front like that was seriously heavy news. I was overjoyed at the depth Peltier had given me and I'm sure if he was still around, old Steve would have been happy sticking his oar into that.

After ten days they gave me the news that I was healing up well without any complications and as they removed my catheter they told me that I could go home that afternoon if I could pee without any problems.

So one of the nurses left me a big jug of iced water and I drank lots of the stuff. Within a couple of hours I was getting desperate so I walked over to the bathroom and gingerly sat down as I was still a little tender down below.

It was then that I just let go and urinated for the first time sitting down as a woman. It sprayed everywhere, I wet my leg and it was then that I realised my aim was now absolutely useless. There was nothing left to aim and my direction finder was a distant memory. For the moment though I was blessed with owning a healthy pink vagina so I just started crying right there in the bathroom.

I came out with tears of happiness streaming down my face so I hugged the first staff nurse I saw who seemed to be taken aback but understood what I was feeling. I was so incredibly grateful to finally be the person I always should have been.

I hope that those new girls that come along can now easily plan their transition strategy like I did. It can be done but you do need to plan it out. You can't just cross your fingers and hope it happens. Like I said we all need a hobby.

 

Part 2

Chapter 11. He got up and walked away

A year later and my new womanly life has progressed fairly well. I've had my labiaplasty and healed completely between my legs and Stephanie has even had another couple of surgical procedures that you'll find out about later.

As Stephanie has a hot date tonight I will describe my plans to get ready. I'll sit at my well-stocked vanity and stare into the mirror at the face that doesn't belong on a man and that's about to become even more beautiful. I say well-stocked as I have so many creams, potions and make-up bottles on the top surface.

Stephanie had her nails done earlier today and the salon gave her extra long tips after they heard her talk about her hot date. The French polish and the clear varnish sparkles in the light.

It's quickly noticed that there a few stray hairs to be plucked from already painfully thin eyebrows that now sweep upwards in a graceful arc. Art at school was never my strong point and make-up took some time to master but now I'm a real expert. Applying some black eyeliner before using my favourite black mascara makes Stephanie's eyes look really dramatic.

Those eyes define Stephanie's look and beauty so I've been told.

The face looking back has really changed so much that no one would ever recognise Steve or the man I once was. However the application of these cosmetics is still arousing me and it's like the cosmetics keep me stuck as a woman in some meaningful way.

Even with these artificial colours removed, I know I won't ever look like a man again. So removing the cosmetics isn't a problem like it was when I was back in the days when I was a crossdresser. Of course I didn't know what the reason for feeling this way was back in the beginning.

However when I was a pre-op I was determined to succeed in my transformation and enjoyed the changes despite all the physical and mental pain. Now there is this delicious feeling that somehow Steve didn't die when he had his male parts removed as I thought he would.

It seems that he's alive but he's now very much a man stuck in the body of a beautiful woman. He is that beautiful woman who is applying her face powder on her smooth and now hairless cheeks.

I still have routine doses of electrolysis but only now and again. It's not the beard growth it used to be during Steve's manhood it's just a few odd straggly hairs that every woman has from time to time.

It's all very satisfying because I have truly succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. I can't go back to outwardly being Steve again. I mean guys just don't put on the make-up and put on a bra that he has to do but you know inside he's loving it all.

He has little choice in the matter anyway the outer being Stephanie has seen to all that. She's taken so much care and attention to every little detail to have this body that Steve hasn't a hope in hell of ever getting back to his old life. I was told by Kim that if I was to wear one of his old three piece suits even if could be retrieved from the landfill, I would still look like a girl wearing it and would probably be very sexy and attractive in it.

So to prove a point I went out and bought a pinstripe three piece trouser suit and you know she was right. Of course it had a feminine cut and style while wearing my hair down my back, dangling earrings and red nails coupled with a pair of black spike heels completed the look.

"There, there Steve, don't be mad," I said into the mirror as I picked up a lip pencil and then deftly outlined my lips with a dark red colour. Applying lipstick was always a sensual activity before my transition as I often used to borrow April's latest colour. Now my collection of lipsticks is huge and I have every kind imaginable. Tonight coating them with Steve's favourite plum coloured lipstick seems appropriate to match the tight figure hugging purple dress I'm wearing.

I like to purse my lips to spread the colour evenly. I lick them and they look so desirable, kissable and pouty. For some reason I kiss the mirror and see my puckered lipstick kiss staring straight back at me.

I eagerly reapply my lipstick again and smile at the mark I've made on the mirror and realise that I can't go back to being Steve.

"Look at what you've done Steve you're going to have to live like this for the rest of your life." I said out loud to the woman staring at me in the mirror.

She's very attractive and I love her dearly. I fluttered my long mascara coated eyelashes as she did hers. Then I spoke again, "You can never go back to being a man again or undo all these changes I've done to this curvy body. Well you could try but it wouldn't get you anywhere and who would want to know a man that looked like a girl? Yes you're right! No one. You'd be an incomplete person in every sense."

I stand up and put on my stockings. I attach them carefully to the three garter straps. I look at my most recent surgery and smile. My labiaplasty has given my the appearance Stephanie desired since this all started. I have labia and my clitoris isn't exposed like before as the surgeon completed the hooding process. The scars are invisible such was his craftmanship and I am all healed down there.

A couple of years ago, as Steve I would have loved to kiss any woman with pouty lips like these. But now they're all mine along with my further enhanced D cup breasts that swell my little sexy dress it makes me feel very sexy. Well B cups are all very well but big breasts are what I wanted when I realised that I could support them.

I rub my hairless stocking clad legs together and cross them elegantly with my heels that now force my small constricted feet into an elegant curve. My calf muscles hurt now if I don't wear heels just another price to pay isn't it Steve? I painted my own long nails earlier and decide to give them a second coat of clear lacquer just to make sure that they won't chip.

Am I happy?

That's a good question. Yes I am but it's not entirely all plain sailing. There are times when I realise that I can't go back to do the things I used to do as Steve and no I don't mean collecting stamps.

After tonight's date I've decided that I will go into the mountains again just as I used to do with my backpack and camp for the weekend. It's not regarded as a typical pursuit for a woman but then I'm not a typical woman am I? I used to camp out on the hills when I first arrived here and remember those adventures with fondness.

I catch myself grinning at the mirror and get myself going.

My nails are dry so I walk to the bathroom to pee. That is something that I find disconcerting. Gone are the old wip it out and do it days, now I have to hitch up my dress, pull down my panties and squat just like any other woman. A small event you might think but it does remind me that my male equipment has been surgically removed. Like dilating it's a chore but a chore I can live with. Sometimes I stand in the shower and pee just to prove I can do it.

I always have to wipe myself now when I stand up as it's a lot messier than it was when I was a man. Steve wouldn't worry about getting his Y fronts damp but now I have to change my panties after I find that they are stained. I smile at how smooth my front is as I pull up a fresh pair of tight fitting Lycra panties.

My figure is skilfully contoured now. Just after my sex change surgery my torso was just straight down with little waistline but now it tucks in well giving me girly hips.

I tuck my bra straps inside my dress to hide them and to make sure he sees the right amount of cleavage. I really love my breasts as an outward sign of my new-found femininity. The bra straps cut deep into my shoulders and with every breath I take, I can feel the constriction on my chest from the tight material.

When I take off my bra each night it still feels like I am still wearing one such is the pressure on my rib cage that's required to hold these things in place. I mentioned earlier that I had them made a little bigger and they are more in proportion now to the rest of my body. Steve might not agree but then he doesn't have a vote any longer.

I put on my dress gold watch and bracelet carefully and have some difficulty to avoid chipping my nail polish. Then again my trained fingers expertly put on my long dangly pearl drop earrings into my pierced ears despite my long nails. Sometimes I just want to cut my rounded nails back but they took so long to grow and to shape, that it would be a big pity.

They don't need to be this long but they do help to reinforce my helplessness and my inability to get out of this deep well Steve is stuck in. Even little things like that make a difference. Besides I like the idea of scraping Barry's back with them while he's making love to Stephanie tonight. How will Steve react when he has another man on top of him?

I look at my small watch again and decide that he'll be at the door in the next few minutes. I nervously apply my lipstick again and give my long hair one long last brush before reapplying my hair grips.

I trip out of the bathroom in my spike heels and shamelessly pull down my panties to reveal my clean hairless and utterly convincing vulva to the wall mirror in the bedroom. It's weird but there are some times when I can hardly believe it's all happened but looking at it all pink and healthy dispels any doubts.

That surgeon's fee was worth it as my vagina's really convincing now. That and the liposuction to my waist are the final surgical modifications I will endure for now.

Things that might be a bother for most women I find are really quite arousing now. Things such as wearing impossibly high uncomfortable heels, putting on make-up first thing in the morning with your eyes closed and having to wear a tight bra on the hottest days of the year are what I consider to be the real joys of being a woman.

It seems like another age since my decision to start this hobby of mine and I'm really not tired of it. Like now I'm usually very happy and comfortable with being Stephanie all the time.

Now and again though there are times when I wonder if Steve made the right decision but then it doesn't make any difference if he did. It's too late and he's stuck as a woman like it or not, and no amount of regrets will make any difference with that.

Now I must be the prey and not the hunter. As Stephanie, Steve must be the one waiting for a date to arrive and to accept a bunch of flowers or little gifts of affection that he might bring. I have had to learn to conform to my expected role as a woman in this society and that has been the best feeling of all.

The end result of Steve's transformation is entirely convincing. The curves on my body, my face, my hair and legs are all as they should be. Now I no longer look at other attractive women and feel jealous because I know I have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams and that I'm attractive too as my man Barry constantly reminds me.

Now all I can do is just compare other women's fashion sense with mine and sometimes even steal some of their fashion ideas or even sympathise when I know that their heels are pinching their toes just as mine do.

You know it's weird going down the street to the store and everyone sees me as a pretty woman. Guys open doors for me and help me with my grocery shopping. It's like a 24/7 masquerade party fooling everyone I meet. I've never been read that I know off and when a man can cum inside me and not know about my past that too is a special moment.

I stand before the mirror wavering slightly, smoothing down my slim pencil skirt and enjoy the look of my long hair. It's grown so incredibly long and it's now down level with my waist.

The colour is strawberry blonde but is subject to change depending on my mood. I have blue eyes and what could now be called Scandinavian facial features. I lead a healthy lifestyle, I'm semi-vegetarian, I take lots of vitamins and go to the gym almost daily to do aerobics and use the machines.

The gym is currently a big part of my social life and my current passion there is racquetball. Past pastimes have included biking, volleyball, and skiing. I plan to rollerblade throughout the summer on the waterfronts. I like the slim, trim athletic look and steer away from junk food. All the better for my girlish figure.

 

Chapter 12. He arrives

I can hear his car pull up outside and I know he'll be in here soon invading my private girly world. However I'm looking forward to enjoying myself again in his company. Sometimes it's not easy but I feel quite randy at the thought of him sticking that delicious big cock of his inside me all night long again. I also love it when he sucks on my breasts and nipples. They are very sensitive and his ministrations really make my nipples stand up.

It happened last time and although I was a little shocked at first to be losing my virginity it did take my breath away with so many wonderful feelings coursing through my body. Of course it was then that I felt so happy when I finally found that I was able to do it with a guy and it felt really good.

He wondered why I was crying of course because he is such a dear man. He'll never know the answer though because I have decided I won't tell him anything about my past.

What would be the point?

He isn't involved with a man but with the woman he loves to penetrate each time he comes around. Besides why should I disillusion him or upset him? Just so I can tell him something he doesn't need to know.

He often asks why a pretty woman like me never married or why I didn't have kids but I just tell him that I hadn't met the right man until he came along.

I open up the door and sure enough he walks in with a big bunch of red roses and a card in his bulky hands. I smile at his thoughtfulness and rush to get a vase though I can tell he's keen to get going as soon as possible.

"Come on through. This won't take a moment."

I cut the stems of the flowers and then put them in a large glass vase that hasn't seen much floral tributes in a while. He takes a seat on the stool while I go and fetch my coat.

"Where are we going?" I ask as he helps me put it on.

"I thought we'd go to a club I know," he smiles.

"Ok so how have you been?" I asked him taking the vase of flowers and putting them in the lounge.

"I'm fine, you look gorgeous by the way," he says reaching down to kiss me full on the lips. I opened my mouth a little and his tongue invades it easily and hungrily. I can taste his toothpaste on my tongue. I like a man who has good oral hygiene.

I relax a little and he pushes me against the wall in the hallway. He continued to kiss me and massage my breasts through my coat.

"God you are so sexy Stef," he says passionately.

"Thanks," I reply simply getting my breath back from his passionate kisses.

Then he just grabs my hand and we go upstairs to bed. All my preparations have obviously been successful and we are now headed for another intimate sexual encounter.

Despite losing my balls, my blood androgen levels are still pretty high and so many things now turn me on. It's like I'm a walking sex machine giving myself pleasure by simply existing as Stephanie.

When I was taking higher doses of female hormones this feeling initially heightened as I saw some of the changes I described earlier. Then after a few months they then faded as my testosterone production was blocked and dried up.

With this increased post-op libido I began experimenting with my sexuality around men (I never had before), and found it arousing but it hadn't replaced the female imagery of myself as my main arousal mechanism.

Despite feeling good about Barry's possible penetration as a confirmation of my femaleness the biggest thrill was my total self-feminisation which you now know all about.

My self-belief of myself as a female, and the subsequent self-feminisation, was enough to give me a sexual high so intense that I've never felt anything like it again until after my first encounter with Barry. The sole thing that interested me then was not to be with someone else, but simply to become female. To be Stephanie much to Steve's disgust.

As Stephanie I'm now complete, I'm a sexy and attractive woman, a cute female and I do enjoy my new life. However now I'm no longer living a fantasy world, the reality of not being able to be Steve can sometimes be hard to bear.

Even in my relationship with my ex-girlfriend the whole time in bed with her was spent in some fantasyland. What I was doing to her I imagined was really being done to me by someone else. So when she was on top of me it was like she was making love to me.

It felt like it was me who was that beautiful woman I was screwing. The kisses I gave her I could feel on my soft hairless cheek. The breasts I caressed where these beautiful breasts I could feel on my chest. The penis I was inserting I could feel entering my mouth and my vagina. It was rather like an out of body experience I suppose. The reality of the situation that I was a man in bed with a woman was wholly insufficient to arouse me.

What a lie I was living with her.

Now this new reality is finally here and I am that woman having my cheeks kissed by my loving man. I am that woman who has to allow her breasts and nipples be fondled and bitten by a man who only sees me as a beautiful creature made for his ultimate pleasure. Then at the end I'm also the woman who willingly takes her lover's penis into her mouth.

That first time with Barry took some adjustments mentally to get used to doing that with him. A penis isn't the most pretty thing to suck and I know because I used to have one. Although I am still not a great fan of fellatio I have to make some sacrifices so Barry wants to keep coming around.

It didn't take much for Barry to persuade me into bed. He'd made me feel desired and cherished for all the time he'd known me so I knew then he should be the one to take my virginity.

On that first date a few weeks before he dragged me upstairs, on the way home I just let his hand remain on my stocking covered knee. Then when it started to go up inside my dress hem I just didn't resist. I loved the feeling that he would explore like that and find just what he expected to find. My labiaplasty was all healed up and it was looking right for exploration.

I'm not ashamed that I'm sexually excited about being female, nor do I think that it was a wrong motivation for my change. When I'm intimate with Barry I find myself getting turned on by how gorgeous I know I am now. Of course Barry is smart enough to make me feel that way as much as possible, if he wants to get some.

Is that weird?

I don't think so. When I self-stimulate, most of the time my fantasies are about things like being seen naked, being dressed sexily, being in a sexy situation, being very feminine, and being "taken" as a woman. Having to submit to a man and his will.

I'm getting ahead of myself though.

That first night Barry saw me to my door and I invited him into my apartment for a coffee. He loved the girly things I'd used to decorate the place. My dolls on the sofa, and my teddy bears in the shelves.

I made him coffee and we sat in the lounge drinking it. He leaned over and kissed me gently before the passion grew.

"I want to go to bed with you," he said suddenly after another long passionate kiss on the sofa.

"I want that too Barry," I panted.

"Good," he smiled.

"I've just finished my time of the month," I lied.

"Just my luck I suppose," he said happily. I knew my labiaplasty was fully healed up and there would be no staining on my pantyliner. "Can I carry you to bed so we can sleep together?"

"Yes you can," I said smiling, "I want you to make love to me all night."

So that's what he did. He lifted me up in his strong arms and carried me to the bed though as he dropped me we both collapsed in a fit of giggles and laughter.

"You're heavy Stef," he said seriously.

"I'm not! It's just that you're weak."

"Well see who's weak," he said getting undressed. "Just wait til I've finished with you."

So that was my first time sleeping with a man.

I never imagined it would be so sudden that he would be able to christen my new parts. But after he tried to enter me I found that I was still sore and we had to stop. I explained that was often the case after my period. Lying bitch that I am and it meant that I finally had to suck him off. He was in ecstasy with that though I was disappointed that he couldn't fuck me as I had wanted.

It was a weird feeling taking his meat in my mouth. I found it a bit repulsive at first but then I just closed my eyes and kept coating it with saliva.

The following week and we decided to spend the night at his place. This time I was confident that I could take him at last. It was a gloriously warm evening and I made the same preparations as I had the previous week. I was looking positively radiant or at least that's what he said.

He showered after showing me the bedroom. I slowly started to undress in front of him. Slowly taking off my dress and leaving on my designer lingerie for him to savour. I left my new pumps on my feet and inched my panties down my legs hoping he wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary when I turned to face him.

"Oh you shave down there," he said smiling.

"Yes I hate body hair," I said honestly. "Except on a man."

He was like a gorilla underneath his collar and I looked at him using his finger to beckon me towards him. I knelt on the bed with one knee and leant forward to kiss him. His hands went straight for my breasts and then slipped down to cup my sex.

"You look good enough to eat," he said.

"Do I? I might take you up on that," I said slowly.

He deftly turned around and slowly lowered me onto my back. He already had a condom ripped out of its packet and asked me to help put it on his now hard shaft. I tried but my nails made it difficult. Eventually I persisted and just rolled it down his 7" shaft. He was bigger than Steve had ever been and he really wanted to stick that thing deep inside of me. I swallowed air nervously.

He crouched over me and told me that he was going to make passionate love to me but first I would need to suck him a little so he just moved his crotch towards my face and I reluctantly started sucking on him again. I thought he would never stop pushing that raspberry flavoured condom into my mouth but eventually he did. He wasn't happy about using one but that's the way it would have to be until he had some medical tests.

It was then that it dawned on me that he was about to make love to me in the way I had dreamed for so long. Or rather he was now going to stick his swollen penis deep inside me again and again. Then come inside me when I had brought him to the point of no return. I was so looking forward to this. I was already lubed up and my constant state of arousal all night had made sure of that. Now I wanted him to fuck me all night. I was all healed and ready. I was all female and willing. I was as sexy as I could ever imagine a woman could be. I was lying there with my legs apart as he came towards me.

His penis dangled down and he moved between my legs.

"I'm going to fuck your brains out," he promised me after he had done his long and enticing foreplay with his hands on my nipples.

His attempt to get my juices flowing had succeeded or rather also my liberal application of the KY inside my vagina had done the trick. I helped guide him into my waiting slit and he just slipped easily inside. This time there was no pain.

He was thick and hard. Not too long but thick and wide and it seemed that size does matter to a woman when confronted by a well-endowed man. I lay back on the bed and he lifted my legs up onto his shoulders so that my long slim heels were perched alongside his head. He grunted when he pushed in on every stroke and I lay back as he did his business.

He fucked me for what seemed like hours. I was the woman being screwed by a loving man and in a way that was something I'd always wanted. Now I could feel his heavy frame pinning me to the bed and even if I wanted there was no way I could get him up off me. I didn't have the strength or the will.

I tried to squeeze his prick every time he tried to push in or pull out. It was hard work but I succeeded in timing it so that each time he pushed in and pulled out I was giving him what he had never had from a woman before. I was in ecstasy as he kept pumping his iron in and out of me. My dream had become reality but he wasn't finished yet.

He pushed deep inside me all the way to the top of my artificial vagina and I felt him ram home again and again. His hairy body was sweating next to mine now devoid completely of hair. He pumped in and out of me grunting and groaning. He would suck on my breasts first my left and then my right. I hooked my legs around his body so he had no doubts that I wanted him deeper inside me.

I think he came after 30 minutes and I could feel him shudder leaving me high and dry as he lay spent on top of me. He kissed me on the lips and said, "oh baby that was great." Then he got up, his penis was all limp and he walked out of the room with a big smile on his face.

He just got up and walked away. While I lay there, my vagina raw and sore. He was going to carry on with his guy life while I would have to carry on with my girl one. I got up and decided to inspect the damage and noticed that I was bleeding slightly so applied a panty liner to my panties and climbed back into bed before he got back.

I wondered who had won out of this little encounter, was it me because he didn't know I was TS or was it him for filling that condom he had wrapped around his dick.

I lay there and thought about what had just happened and realised that he had achieved his goal of bedding me and showing me his seed. I had won too but not in the way I truly wanted. I wanted to feel him inside me sure but I had so desperately wanted to orgasm with him thrusting deep inside me. That sadly hadn't happened.

There was a twinge of jealousy as I watched him get into bed and fall asleep within a few seconds. I lay there thinking and put my fingers down to my snatch and rubbed my hooded clitoris gently. There was nothing like the sensation I had hoped for. There was no erection and no real physical sensation that he had just achieved.

It's funny but I was more sensate before my labiaplasty than I am now. The surgeon hooded my clitoris as in a normal woman and the sensations and feelings dropped. I got a big kick out of seeing that my vulva was realistic but then I have to pay the piper with a clitoris that wasn't so much fun to play with.

For the first time since I started my hobby I was feeling a twinge of regret.

He could just get on with his guy life again while I felt unable to do anything but look at the ceiling and think about what had just happened.

 

Chapter 13. Trapped as a woman

 

Now a few days later I am seeing things differently. For the first time sex was really fantastic and great when it started and went on all night. I'd explored my new body and enjoyed seeing what I had missed all my life.

I was very comfortable with myself and then suddenly a few days ago the life long desire to be a woman somehow stopped. I think maybe what happened that night caused it but I suddenly felt as though I'd made a terrible mistake.

After a few days of feeling like a complete fool, I began to see myself as trapped and having to live a life I didn't want. After a while, the good feelings came slowly back but instead of feeling great being a woman, I began to feel great being trapped as a woman.

Little things though still irk me like the way people still talk to my large breasts rather than my face. Well my cup size is hard to hide and I rather wish I hadn't had that second enhancement operation though Barry says he wants them even bigger. I could have a breast reduction operation but that would leave me needing further surgery and I have had quite enough lately.

Now after all this time, I can take some comfort from my ability to comfortably pass as a woman socially, and that I now have these large breasts. I suppose I always wanted to experience having big breasts, so at least I can understand what that means now. Barry refers to them as his cushions.

So I suppose I lied to my therapist back in the early days so I could continue on the path of so-called "womanhood." In hindsight after a year in therapy and on hormones, and with all those irreversible changes I'd done both physically and emotionally, I didn't really have much choice but to continue.

That feeling that I had to become more feminised grew and grew until it couldn't stop. The further I went up the staircase towards womanhood, in spite of my therapist's suggestion that I slow down or stop treatment for a while to rethink the matter, I just rushed on to the point of having SRS, which I ultimately thought would be the height of my femininity.

Now I have realised that I was completely wrong!

I have no real feelings or desires to be a woman now and somehow they just vanished overnight following my sexual episode with Barry. What I thought was such a strong desire to be a woman, and to express my femininity for all to see, has completely gone. Now I'm wondering what to do with this new body that has been so drastically altered both chemically and surgically.

It's not that the hormones and surgery weren't a success, because they were. It's just that my feelings are gone and that's the ironic part.

Maybe the biggest change happened after my labiaplasty. I was on a roll then having absolutely loved the effects of my vaginoplasty and thought it would make sense to just complete the job. I listened to the surgeon who suggested that I would need the labiaplasty because I wouldn't look completely natural. Of course that's what I wanted and begged to get it done as soon as possible after my sex change.

In hindsight I really didn't need that surgery but I became pretty uncomfortable with the idea that it didn't look 100% right down below and although I was comfortable with my vagina, I decided to have labiaplasty anyway because I saw it as part of the final SRS.

It was also a further nail in Steve's coffin who was by then 6 feet under the ground and breathing his last breath. I figured that this surgery would kill him stone dead. There might have been a chance to reconstruct a penis of sorts after my SRS but after the labiaplasty that wasn't going to happen no matter how good the surgeon.

So I felt I really wanted to complete things and to stop any chance Steve had of ever getting back again.

Now I have healed up, I'm very happy with the cosmetic results of labiaplasty and my pussy lips are extremely lifelike having compared vulvas with many women in the showers.

Really, things like appearance aren't that big an issue any more now though. I was very obviously concerned that my vagina looked right when I was a pre-op, but being post-op that concern all seems a little stupid.

It was masturbating after my labiaplasty that took a bit of getting used to. It was easier to masturbate before labiaplasty because everything I needed was still very accessible. By drawing the labia together at the top, the surgeon had put an additional thick skin layer that now shields the area above my clitoris. That area I found very sensitive before and I used to rub there while masturbating with some success.

I still rub on that area, but it's just not as sensitive as it was which is very frustrating. I do more direct play with the clitoris these days but it is covered up now. I'll admit I'm a bit lazy, while I find other kinds of vaginal stimulation and penetration pleasurable I was so used to going straight for the clit during masturbation because it was an easy consistent way to do it.

Then when I discovered that the second stage was all healed and complete just before Barry made love to me, I realised that I had effectively neutered myself. I had low sex drive and limited sensation from my clitoris because it was covered in extra layers of skin. That really freaked me out and at the same time aroused me. The fantasy was real and as a woman I was suffering from the low sex drive they seemed to have.

Then I was confronted with Barry's manly sexual prowess that succeeded in achieving orgasm and as much as I tried to match it I was left frustratingly high and dry while he removed and tied of a full condom from his penis. A condom he'd filled screwing me.

So my sexual abilities just disappeared overnight and I was in a state of denial that this had all occurred. I felt some arousal sure when I looked in the mirror and applied my make-up but that was followed sharply by a feeling of deep regret that I couldn't get out of the permanent fix I was in. Barry's lovemaking made me feel that I had been a big stupid fool.

Then of course my money was beginning to run out so I had to take some menial jobs to get some money together. I worked as a secretary and a hotel receptionist to delay the money running out. I wasn't amused when anyone would pinch or pat my rear and that happened almost constantly.

Although my sexual sensation was much less I do have more emotional satisfaction now. I can cry easily and often do. I always liked to cry as a man but felt bad about it but as a woman it is a new experience to be comforted when I begin to cry.

I still get aroused and I do have an interest in sex but sadly I haven't had an induced orgasm for a long time now. I feel that it's a hard price to pay for being a woman. In an attempt to get some sexual release I bought a good vibrator and attachments which I enjoy using but a piece of plastic was never going to replace a real dick.

 

Part 3

Chapter 14. Life on the other side

I've had a few years now as a woman and perhaps you might like to know what life is like on the other side.

Physically it's really different being a woman. While I was happy enough having breasts and then implants they can be a real pain. Any physical activity such as running, going downstairs or even riding down a bumpy road can feel different to being distinctly uncomfortable.

Wearing a sexy bra can make me feel feminine but on a hot day I really wish I didn't have to wear anything. However not wearing a bra isn't an option because I need the support one provides. These breasts are heavy to lug around and they hurt my shoulders and back.

Without one there's the discomfort of them jiggling and bouncing around all day. Then it's extremely embarrassing to have men staring at my chest all the time.

Women with their snide looks can be even worse than men and it can be very embarrassing when my nipples get hard and show through my tops. One major thing I miss is being able to go around outside topless.

As a guy, I never had to worry about it when I was in the garden or going to the beach. No one ever complained about it but now it's something I miss that it's not an option any more.

The biggest thing about changing gender is that sex change surgery. You think you are ready for it but actually undergoing it, is still a major shock. Until surgery you had spent all your life with a penis and suddenly you have to spend the rest of your life without one.

I never realised just how inconvenient it could be to lose it. It is a lot messier with a vagina and men really have it better when it comes to hygiene. Having a penis is a lot more efficient and faster.

Before my surgery I used to get aroused simply imagining what it would like having no option but to sit down to urinate like a woman. After my surgery for the first couple of months, I still thought it was pretty neat. It felt utterly feminine just sitting down and knowing that I just couldn't pee standing up any longer except in the shower.

After a while though the novelty just wore off. Now it's just part of my life and I don't get any particular pleasure from it. The biggest problem is that it just takes too damn long to do. I miss the old days when I could just do my business and get back to what I was doing. It sometimes grates I can't do that any more and the time to go to the toilet is a lot longer.

Going to toilet was a 5 second affair as a man, as a woman I have to queue, remove my underwear, crouch over some dirty toilet seat, wipe the wetness away and then get dressed again. Finally check my hair and make-up before going out to see my man waiting for me outside.

I get really pissed off queuing for the ladies room at public events. At those times I really wish I could go back to being a guy again.

I had dated a lot of women and was not inexperienced in having sex. Sex now though is really different because the sensation of being penetrated is a huge change.

In the old days being aroused as a man meant being hard and erect, and doing and feeling all the things that were part of that. But now there's not much left to become hard or erect. I can still get aroused but it's a much more passive experience. It's more like something that just happens to me rather than me achieving it by my own efforts.

I used to fantasise and masturbate all the time as a pre-op but now that my equipment's gone that's not an option any longer. To compensate I have found other methods of pleasure stimulation. I use a vibrator a lot and that can feel really nice.

It's really strange though and I remember the first time I brought myself to orgasm as a woman. Rather than dilate one day I just inserted the vibrator and turned it on.

I started to enjoy the ride and I remembered experiencing these intense sensations. Then when I looked down and put my hand down to my crotch, and there was nothing.

Where my scrotum used be there was the end of the vibrator sticking out and having an orgasm without having a penis was different. When I removed the vibrator afterwards and felt that glow spread over me it was then I thought that I really was a woman.

You might ask if I miss having sex with women. The answer isn't easy to give because deep down I'm still Steve inside and I can still get turned on looking at a pretty girl. I was however always attracted to girls that had a certain sexual ambiguity. Not so much the hard-edged muscular butch types, but the cute tomboy types. I suppose I was envious of them.

I used to fantasise that they were boys who'd been transformed and were now stuck as girls, just like I wanted. Or maybe they were girls who wanted to be boys. I'm still attracted to that type, but now the whole dynamic is transformed.

So far as women are concerned outwardly I'm just another girl. Though I've met my share of lesbians and even did some experimenting. It was fun, but it wasn't what I expected.

Deep down inside, there's a part of me that still feels like a guy, and being with a girl brings that out. The problem is I don't have the equipment to do anything about it. When I decided to go ahead with the change, I sure didn't expect it to feel it like this.

The good part though is that I've found that I really enjoy sex with men. Even if it's just the old fashioned style, it's a whole new experience. I just open my thighs, sometimes wrap my legs around my significant other, and let him bang away.

The part that's strangest is afterwards. No matter how long I've been a woman, I still get the weirdest feeling inside when he pulls out and gets up. I see him with his cock hanging out in front of him, while I'm left with this empty space between my legs.

It's not that I really want to have a cock again, much less go back to being a guy. I just feel weird inside. He gets to go on with his "guy" life, while I just go back to my "girl" life.

When I was a guy, I had no desire for any kind of sexual interaction with a man. Now, it's just so strange to touch a man's dick. On an mental level, I certainly remember having a cock. But as time goes on, it's harder and harder for me to remember what it actually felt like.

Once I even strapped on a dildo and it was so disorienting. It looked halfway real, and when I grabbed it with my hand, the gesture felt so familiar. But of course there was no sensation from it. Afterwards, I just threw it away into a drawer. Deep down inside, I think it was an important milestone for me.

That kind of thing really hits home. I'm a girl now, and those sensations, those experiences are something I'll never have. Still, when I get my man erect, with my hand or with my mouth, part of me is always trying to imagine what he feels, trying to imagine what it's like to have a cock again.

I'm sure he enjoys my fascination with his equipment, but I wonder what he'd think if he knew what was going through my mind while I'm so busy getting him off.

On a more mundane level, being a woman is a lot more work than being a guy. I find I spend a whole lot more time and effort on my appearance than before. Sure, I know that it's not something that I HAVE to do, but the fact is that standards are different for women.

I certainly wasn't fat as a guy, but I had to lose twenty-five pounds to look good as a woman. I've kept it off, but it's been hard work. I never realised that I was going to have to spend most of my life significantly hungrier than before.

Humans are social animals. We need human contact, and it's natural to want others to think highly of us. I don't need to be Miss Perfection every time I go out, but I don't want people to think of me as a slob either.

As a guy, I could step in the shower and be out the front door ten minutes later. Now it can take me an hour or more what with bathing, shaving my legs, fixing my hair, putting on makeup and finally finding the "right" clothes to wear.

Sure, I knew this as that was part of the real-life test. But back then, it was usually great fun. At a minimum, I realised then it was a necessary part of becoming a woman. Now it's just stuff that I have to do to be presentable.

Women's clothing can be such a pain to wear. I work in a fairly conservative environment, so I'm expected to dress appropriately. That means knee length skirts, blouses, pantyhose and heels. I never minded wearing a jacket and tie, while loafers were comfortable.

I'll admit that putting on pantyhose or stockings can be quite an erotic experience when one no longer has a penis. After a while though, it's just one more hassle especially when visiting the ladies toilet while wearing pantyhose. Guys really do have it a lot easier.

I never realised when I was a man how obnoxious men could be. Western society really does treat women as sex objects. If a woman is pretty, she's always seen as a potential sex object.

If she's not attractive then sadly she's just not considered to be that important. I notice this a lot. Now that I've become a sexy woman I am treated differently and it's almost like I've resigned as a fully fledged member of society.

Some people treat me in ways I haven't experienced since I was back in high school. They can be condescending, act superior and don't take me seriously. I also experienced a lot of this during my transition. But back then, I was living my fantasy world as I became a woman.

None of that matters now. I'm a woman and I'm treated like a woman. Like it or not, there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

For such as small chemical hormones have had a tremendous effect on my personality and emotions. Before my change, I was as masculine as any other guy and did lots of guy things. With female hormones I find myself crying or getting upset at the silliest little things. It doesn't take much.

Of course, that's not surprising, given the type of transformation that I've been through. I mean, I was Steve for a long time. Even though part of me always wanted to be a girl, I did guy things and thought guy thoughts. Now all of those things are gone.

Sure, I can still do a lot of the same things I used to do but things are different or awkward now. Anything I do now I have to do as a girl.

I could play basketball or baseball with some guys, but if I did, it would be a girl doing those things. So people do treat me differently. I do miss being masculine sometimes.

I can still act like Steve and I can dress up like him but then I would look like a girl dressed up like a guy. So no matter what I do, I'll never be a guy again.

Probably the whole psychological thing has do with the fact that I'm stuck as a Stephanie now. Not that I don't like it, or that I'd necessarily want to undo the change. But before my surgeries I always had an option and a choice ahead of me.

I had this wonderful fantasy of being a woman and I had the potential of actually going through with it.

Now there's no more fantasy and no more choice it feels strange and not what I expected it to be like.

When I tried to explain this to a co-worker who knew about me recently she just looked at me and then told me straight.

"Whoa girl! That's enough! I don't care what you used to be, or what your life used to be like. That's all history! The fact is, here and now, you're a girl! Guess what? Tomorrow you'll be a girl! In ten years time you'll be older and you won't look as cute, but you'll still be a girl! That means you belong to the female half of the human race. It's no big deal and that's life, so get over it."

There a lot of things I wish I'd known before I had myself turned into a woman. I don't think anything I know now would have kept me from wanting to go ahead with the change.

I'm glad I did it.

I have the body of a woman and I have to live life as a woman.

As far as anyone else can tell I am a pretty woman.

Yet somewhere inside of me I have never given up completely being a guy. It's like I'm a guy trapped in a woman's body. I guess I just have to accept that but I never dreamed I'd feel like this. Knowing it ahead of time wouldn't have changed my mind.

As for Barry he left me when he found out about my past for another woman. He said he was Ok with it at first but as time went on he became quite abusive and I didn't have the strength I had to fight him off.

So now I live in my girlie apartment alone but with my memories as Steve to comfort me as I grow old. I have a few friends at work but my best friends are all part of the transgender community. At least we accept each other though I sure wish I could leave that all behind for good find some nice man or woman and settle down.

END 

  

   

   

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