How I Became the Gurl I Am...
I'm writing this as an attempt to achieve some level of comfort with the internal strife I go through every day. Not a day goes by where I am in conflict. Conflict about how the world perceives me, conflict about how I see the world, and lastly the conflict of just who I really am.
So who is Nikki?
Some facts: I was born a male, and has a successful family life. A wife who was recently told her husband is bisexual, but is not actively searching out a bisexual relationship. I have a boy-ovary injury and as such, wear panties every day, as they provide better support and pain-relief. This injury was sustained from an accidental collision with the family dog, of all things, and getting rammed in the crotch at full-speed did some damage. There is still a possibility of a medically-necessary castration, which I am not overly concerned about, and in some times, hoping for. I also have a secret stash of more frilly, silky satin sissy panties that I sometimes wear during the day, when I can get away with it. For some reason, I genuinely find thongs more comfortable to wear than regular panties.
I came from a very broken home. Parents splitting at *****, I lived with an abusive mother for 15 years, and those 15 years were what helped shape me into who I am today. More on this later.
My first time dressing was when I was about 9. My mom thought I should be dressed as a girl for Halloween. It was embarrassing at first, but back then, boys wore their hair long, and after being done up, I looked passable enough. So much so that some of the houses I knocked on the door of asked where my costume was. Nowadays, I would be flattered. Back then, I was embarrassed, because that was just the times we lived in.
Not long after that episode, my life changed forever. My mother decided I needed to have a strong work-ethic, so I got a paper-route. Back then, k**s rode their bicycles and delivered newspapers to subscribers. I had my own business, and responsibilities. It was one of my customers who set me on my path. One day, while collecting the monthly subscription fees from my customers, I called on a man who lived only a few buildings over in the apartment complex I lived in, and delivered to.
The man, I'll call him Jim, was a very nice guy, and I felt bad for him, because his wife had died somewhat recently and he was lonely. Even 10-year old me could see that. So he would invite me in and we would talk. Innocent stuff at first, and then we'd look at magazines and pictures. The pictures were mainly of his wife, and some fashion catalogues or woman's magazines. We'd talk about how pretty they looked, and the like, and he kept raving about how I was almost the same size as his wife. We'd drink sodas, and talk, and for the first few weeks, as I remember, it was no big deal, just me being nice to my customer. One day, he asked me for a favor.
The favor was to help him with his wife's clothes. It was a new thing to me, and I had no idea what he wanted, so I said sure, because he was a customer and I knew how ugly it got when the newspaper got a complaint about one of us screwing up. So we went into his bedroom and I remember him holding some of his wife's dresses up to me to check for sizes. He wasn't wrong, his wife and I were close in size. He asked which ones I liked, and which ones I didn't. I made my comments and he separated them, and then had me try on her shoes. That was tricky, because I had no idea how to walk in heels, but after getting a few pairs on my feet, I liked the fact they made me taller, and he would stand behind me and hold me close to him, to "keep me from falling".
The closeness and hugging actually felt good, because at home, what I got was a whole lot of crap from my mother about not having done chores, not having done a good enough job of looking after my little brother, or what ever else irritated her that day. I didn't know it, and to this day, I don't think she did, either, but she was being emotionally abusive. When she gave praise, it was fake and any real efforts at love felt awkward, even strained. For 15 years, I felt very awkward around her, and did everything I could to not be. To this day, and she is still with us, I can't be around her for more than a few days before I get frustrated. The flashbacks will probably never go away. But there was one thing that did earn her genuine praise. When I did the housework and did it well. She would tell me to do a job like a girl would, and make it spic and span, and when I did that, she said girls would be proud of me. The seeds were being sown.
So after my paperwork, I would go to Jim's and hang out and he had me doing more and more things with his wife's clothes. Trying on dresses and outfits, even pantyhose and lingerie. I tried on skirts, which promptly fell off as I had no hips and no ass, but the dresses stayed on, some of them very nicely, though without a chest, the front was a tad flat, until he had me wear one of her bras and stuffed it with various things, from TP to rolled up panties. I did like how the lingerie felt, especially the garter belts and stockings. They were very comfortable and I liked how they made my legs feel. He always selected the ones I approved of, and had me strip down to my underwear to try them on. Add the heels and my longer hair and he liked to hug and caress me. It felt good! Soon I was sitting him his lap and he was caressing me, making me feel so relaxed that a few times I fell asleep. He always woke me up in time to be home and do what I needed to do.
One day, after I wore a favored dress we both liked, and I exited the bedroom to show him how good I looked, he smiled, gave me a drink, and then he kissed me. Not deep or passionate, but a small peck. I was used to kissing me dad like that, so it didn't bother me. Especially since my dad was out of the picture by then. We sat, and he kept rubbing and caressing me, until he started to reach under the dress and slide his hands up and down my legs. It felt good, and I was very trusting of him, after all he had seen me dressed as a woman!
It escalated from there, until I learned how to French kiss from him, and after that, how to not only fondle him, but how to be fondled. The only difference was I would sprout a little woody, while he had his own erection. He wasn't a big man, even today, I think he would be my size (4.5 inches hard, if it gets hard) or less, but I learned how to stroke him until he came. That earned me all sorts of positive reinforcements, and soon that was the least of what I was doing with him....
(I need to break here, and will continue with a part 2)
So who is Nikki?
Some facts: I was born a male, and has a successful family life. A wife who was recently told her husband is bisexual, but is not actively searching out a bisexual relationship. I have a boy-ovary injury and as such, wear panties every day, as they provide better support and pain-relief. This injury was sustained from an accidental collision with the family dog, of all things, and getting rammed in the crotch at full-speed did some damage. There is still a possibility of a medically-necessary castration, which I am not overly concerned about, and in some times, hoping for. I also have a secret stash of more frilly, silky satin sissy panties that I sometimes wear during the day, when I can get away with it. For some reason, I genuinely find thongs more comfortable to wear than regular panties.
I came from a very broken home. Parents splitting at *****, I lived with an abusive mother for 15 years, and those 15 years were what helped shape me into who I am today. More on this later.
My first time dressing was when I was about 9. My mom thought I should be dressed as a girl for Halloween. It was embarrassing at first, but back then, boys wore their hair long, and after being done up, I looked passable enough. So much so that some of the houses I knocked on the door of asked where my costume was. Nowadays, I would be flattered. Back then, I was embarrassed, because that was just the times we lived in.
Not long after that episode, my life changed forever. My mother decided I needed to have a strong work-ethic, so I got a paper-route. Back then, k**s rode their bicycles and delivered newspapers to subscribers. I had my own business, and responsibilities. It was one of my customers who set me on my path. One day, while collecting the monthly subscription fees from my customers, I called on a man who lived only a few buildings over in the apartment complex I lived in, and delivered to.
The man, I'll call him Jim, was a very nice guy, and I felt bad for him, because his wife had died somewhat recently and he was lonely. Even 10-year old me could see that. So he would invite me in and we would talk. Innocent stuff at first, and then we'd look at magazines and pictures. The pictures were mainly of his wife, and some fashion catalogues or woman's magazines. We'd talk about how pretty they looked, and the like, and he kept raving about how I was almost the same size as his wife. We'd drink sodas, and talk, and for the first few weeks, as I remember, it was no big deal, just me being nice to my customer. One day, he asked me for a favor.
The favor was to help him with his wife's clothes. It was a new thing to me, and I had no idea what he wanted, so I said sure, because he was a customer and I knew how ugly it got when the newspaper got a complaint about one of us screwing up. So we went into his bedroom and I remember him holding some of his wife's dresses up to me to check for sizes. He wasn't wrong, his wife and I were close in size. He asked which ones I liked, and which ones I didn't. I made my comments and he separated them, and then had me try on her shoes. That was tricky, because I had no idea how to walk in heels, but after getting a few pairs on my feet, I liked the fact they made me taller, and he would stand behind me and hold me close to him, to "keep me from falling".
The closeness and hugging actually felt good, because at home, what I got was a whole lot of crap from my mother about not having done chores, not having done a good enough job of looking after my little brother, or what ever else irritated her that day. I didn't know it, and to this day, I don't think she did, either, but she was being emotionally abusive. When she gave praise, it was fake and any real efforts at love felt awkward, even strained. For 15 years, I felt very awkward around her, and did everything I could to not be. To this day, and she is still with us, I can't be around her for more than a few days before I get frustrated. The flashbacks will probably never go away. But there was one thing that did earn her genuine praise. When I did the housework and did it well. She would tell me to do a job like a girl would, and make it spic and span, and when I did that, she said girls would be proud of me. The seeds were being sown.
So after my paperwork, I would go to Jim's and hang out and he had me doing more and more things with his wife's clothes. Trying on dresses and outfits, even pantyhose and lingerie. I tried on skirts, which promptly fell off as I had no hips and no ass, but the dresses stayed on, some of them very nicely, though without a chest, the front was a tad flat, until he had me wear one of her bras and stuffed it with various things, from TP to rolled up panties. I did like how the lingerie felt, especially the garter belts and stockings. They were very comfortable and I liked how they made my legs feel. He always selected the ones I approved of, and had me strip down to my underwear to try them on. Add the heels and my longer hair and he liked to hug and caress me. It felt good! Soon I was sitting him his lap and he was caressing me, making me feel so relaxed that a few times I fell asleep. He always woke me up in time to be home and do what I needed to do.
One day, after I wore a favored dress we both liked, and I exited the bedroom to show him how good I looked, he smiled, gave me a drink, and then he kissed me. Not deep or passionate, but a small peck. I was used to kissing me dad like that, so it didn't bother me. Especially since my dad was out of the picture by then. We sat, and he kept rubbing and caressing me, until he started to reach under the dress and slide his hands up and down my legs. It felt good, and I was very trusting of him, after all he had seen me dressed as a woman!
It escalated from there, until I learned how to French kiss from him, and after that, how to not only fondle him, but how to be fondled. The only difference was I would sprout a little woody, while he had his own erection. He wasn't a big man, even today, I think he would be my size (4.5 inches hard, if it gets hard) or less, but I learned how to stroke him until he came. That earned me all sorts of positive reinforcements, and soon that was the least of what I was doing with him....
(I need to break here, and will continue with a part 2)
5年前
