degradedsissy

I’m a lifelong transvestite.

My the curiosity or urge to try on women’s clothing afflicted me from an early age

I was probably about 9 when I first dared to try on my mother’s stockings, girdle and bra when she was not at home. It filled me with a strange sort of pleasure - the soft friction of stockinged legs gently rubbing against each other, the tight embrace of a girdle and bra.

It felt so deliciously girlie and there was this strange feeling that caused more to want to play with myself.

But there was also this intense shame and guilt. Boys don’t dress up in stockings and women’s underwear.

Being slightly built and on the timid side I was already being teased as a “sissy” and a “mommy’s boy” by either boys and hung out mainly with girls.

I wondered what they would all think and say, if they’d seen me then - what my mother would say.

I told myself I’d never do it again. It was just a “curiosity”.

It wasn’t. The lure was too strong. I did it again, and again and again, graduation to high heels, skirts, panties, dresses, blouses, pantyhose and eventually, nail polish and makeup

For many years I deceived myself that it was an innocent curiosity. When that was no longer plausible I tried to rationalise it as a “phase”, but I never grew out of it.

Later it became a “harmless fetish”.

Like many sissies, I wrestled with what I was. Constant denial and frequent purges of my pantyhose, shoes and women’s clothes and underwear marked my struggles to live up to being the man I had been told, since birth, I was meant to be.

But the urges to dress up in pantyhose and stockings, high heels, women’s underwear and girlie clothes, while mincing about limp-wristedly became ever more powerful. I loved immersing myself into an emasculated alternative world, drowning in girlie sensations, thoughts and emotions. But there was always this sense of shame and guilt.

The shame I felt as a result of the tensio