Magic Dress - Jane

It was a shock. Finding another woman's panties in my husband's possessions. They were larger than mine and not a pattern I had. And they had been worn. I cried and cried. Then pulled myself together and put on a brave face, from the makeup table. When he came home I was (fairly) composed. He was scarcely through the door, when I said "What is the meaning of this?" and flourished them in his face.

He went bright red and I thought for a moment he was going to choke. He didn't answer.

"Who is she?" I demanded. "Who do these belong to?"

In a tiny voice he said "Me."

Eventually it came out. He was the youngest of four brothers and had a father who was not very kind. Jim was envious of girls in many ways: their gentler ways, their pretty clothes, the things they could do like cooking. He had expressed an interest in helping his mother in the kitchen and received a slap from his father "not to be such a girl". An interest in things like art or poetry would get similar treatment. The worst thing in the world was to be a queer or nancy boy.

But he wasn't queer. He found a copy of Playboy in his father's tools and was masturbating with it when his father caught him. That was the closest time he came to getting a kind word. "That's my boy! Not a word to your mum." Sometimes when he had the chance he would stroke his mother's clothes and feel a little bit happy. The lacy pants were the greatest source of wonder, and one day he actually put a pair on. He got such a thrill, but put them back before he was caught.

At college he dated, and slept with girls including me, and we eventually married. Happily I thought. What I didn't know was that he had eventually screwed up courage to buy some women's panties and had worn them secretly. Mine were too small - I am quite slender, a bit like a model, some say - otherwise he would have borrowed them. He could not put them in the wash, so after a few days' wear, they were disposed of secretly.

I didn't know if I was relieved or not, but practically it was easy. I went with him and we chose some panties together. They could now go in the wash. I discouraged him from wearing them at work. He generally wore them in the evenings and weekends. I asked did he want a bra, and he laughed: that was obviously a silly idea, and I believed him.

One day I asked him if he had ever worn a dress, and would he like to. He said no, and probably.

"OK," I said. "It's your birthday next week and you've got the day off. Let's go shopping then." I measured his hip size, measured his chest and estimated what sort of bra size might be suitable. He could probably fit a standard size, if the waist was not too pronounced.

That day we went to a department store to the dress section. The very first thing we saw was a rail with "reduced to clear" on it. Hanging on the end was a green dress. It had obviously been looked at and discarded, so it was hanging a bit sadly, it seemed to me. I picked it up and looked towards him and his lovely green eyes (the first thing I saw on him, and possibly what made me fall in love.) I checked the size, and the decision was made, it was that quick. However I started looking at other dresses, when an assistant asked me if I wanted to try it on.

"No, it's for my sister," I said. "I think she'd like it as a birthday present, and I think it's her size, but I'm not sure."

"I think you should buy it," said the assistant. "You can return it if it doesn't suit. By the way, we have a special offer on an underwear set which I think would go very well. Putting them together would make a lovely present." She smiled and I admired her selling skills.

Now I think I have pretty good taste, and I had to agree, they went together perfectly. Sale made. There was also a variety pack of panties by the same company, also on offer, which I picked up. "You can never have too many knickers," smiled the assistant. We were done in 10 minutes, and I don't know which of us was more eager to get home.

He put on the panties, which he liked. Interestingly, I was expecting him to get an erection, but that didn't happen. Then the bra, stuffed with some of his socks. Which looked ridiculous. I had to stifle a laugh, and he was smiling too. Then the slip, which was nice. Then the dress, which was stunning. It was as if someone had waved a magic wand. There was this man looking silly in women's underwear and then there was, well someone, in a lovely dress. And those eyes!

"How do you like it?" I said, a little hoarse, somehow.

"It's what I always wanted," he said, dreamily. "I didn't know it but I did." That was his first, and always the best, dress.

"You just enjoy it, darling," I said. "Walk around, sit down, relax. You are wearing your first dress, but not your last! I'll be back in an hour or so. Don't answer the door."

Back to town I went and came back with a wig and some makeup including what I guessed would be the right shade of lipstick. We didn't have a lot of money and the wig was not cheap, but it had to be worth it. Fortunately my style sense did not let me down. The wig and the makeup made it perfect. I stood beside him with my model figure and most stylish outfit and he beat me hands down in the mirror. That was a lovely woman, until he spoke or walked around, of course, when he started to be a bit ridiculous.

"My mother wanted a daughter," he said wistfully. "She was going to be called Jane, and she was so sure that I was going to be a girl. That's why she named me James, I think." His eyes were wet.

"She has a daughter, now," I said. "Pleased to meet you, Jane."

In a sense, Jane became my daughter. I had had a failed pregnancy, and the doctors advised that partly because of my small pelvis it would be dangerous to try again and I was sterilized. The newly born Jane knew as little about being a woman as the average man and it was a delight to bring her to appreciate womanhood more or less like a girl growing up. Makeup and clothes of course, and high heels, but not just that. I told her many of the things that girls are told how to behave in society and we practised walking and female gestures. We even had mother/daughter arguments! She also liked cooking with me. Obviously we bought other clothing and developed her own tastes, but at least once a week she wore that special dress, always with that set of underwear. Wisely I bought two more sets the same, but the same dress was nowhere to be found, so she did not wear it generally. No matter what else we tried, Jane was at her most beautiful and confident in it.

Of course we were just at home first of all, but Jane said she would like to go out, and we did. First just little local walks, then a trip to town. Jane does not drive, and I prefer not to, so we got a taxi to a nice hotel near the centre, and had tea and cake in their dining room. It was a quiet time, which I knew it would be, with only a couple of other customers. Why I had chosen it was so that we could go to the Ladies' toilet, which was large and well-appointed and also empty at that time. I was therefore able to discuss toilet etiquette, including the requirement to check hair and makeup. I told her that many women did not sit down to pee in public toilets, but crouched and hovered to avoid contact with the seat.

Afterwards we went home by bus. When we did not have the car, I used to take the bus, and was quite fond of this mode of transport. Going by bus was a useful and fairly safe means of getting out, with a little interaction and something to see, both through the windows and observing the passengers - their clothes, hairstyles etc. We went to different suburbs where we were unlikely to meet anyone we knew, and looked around the shops, had a coffee, and used some less pleasant toilets.

Jim as a man did not realise how vulnerable women can feel, and in fact be, and Jane was naïve. I was concerned that someone might make a fuss about a man in women's clothes and particularly in the toilet, and I knew that transvestites can get beaten up by certain sorts of lout, so I was more cautious. In fact we never had trouble. I have read that believing in yourself can make others believe in you. I guess that this meant others saw Jane as Jane.

After a few weeks, Jim came home, and before changing said "I've got tickets for the theatre. That comedy you mentioned. Let's have a night out."

I asked if he would wear the magic dress, and he said "No dress. This is Jim asking his wife out. I'm giving Jane the weekend off," which was a pleasant surprise, and a pleasant experience. We enjoyed the play, had a meal, came home and made love. Jim ignored the nightdress and went to get his pyjamas. "I've told you. Jane has the weekend off."

I slept with Jim and we pottered around the house as we used to all the weekend. No Jane. We made love on Saturday night and Sunday night. Three nights in a row was something of a record in recent years, and I was not displeased. However, I sensed something.

As Jim settled down, I said "Jim, darling. It's been a lovely weekend, and I am so pleased to know that I still have you as my husband. But I won't mind if you put on your nightie." He didn't answer.

"Go on, you know you want to."

He kissed me on the forehead and said "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

He got nightdress and kissed me goodnight. "Good night, Jane," I said.

Perhaps strangely, Jim did not change, other than being more relaxed, and did so well at work that he became finance director for a medium sized engineering company. Jim at work, Jane at home. And he took care to give me time with my husband as well as Jane.

He just had an alternate persona which came on when he put on female clothing. It was a bit odd, but there it was, like a magic wand. Almost any item of obviously female apparel (usually knickers) would now do it, so he never wore them except at home. Although Jim had not thought he would want a bra, and we only had one for the dress, Jane turned out to like having breasts when we got her some breast forms, which are silicone objects which look and feel quite natural. We both felt that a modest cup size was sufficient.

It is hard to explain, but Jane was immediately convincing as a woman. Perhaps a woman who had been raised as a man and so walked and talked like one and was ignorant of many things, but without doubt a woman. I trained her in the same way I would help my daughter to make the best of herself in how she looked and acted, and I think I have done pretty well.

Jane could be Jane in slacks and a top as well as in a pretty dress, but she routinely wore the bra and forms. She developed her own tastes, not quite the same as mine, but good. I think some of Jim's artistic abilities have been so badly repressed that they can only be released by Jane, who also eventually also walked and talked like a woman. It wasn't a split personality - both knew exactly who they were and could remember everything, but it was just comfortable. It may have been a bit like the bilingual people who think slightly differently in different languages.

One summer we took the plunge and Jane and I took a holiday together as sisters, in Brighton. We had a set of clothes for Jim with us, but never used them. We basically just pottered around. The pier and the Royal Pavilion of course, the aquarium and museum, looking around the shops and stopping in cafes while chatting. We were doing things in a way Jim is too busy to do, and relaxing. Maybe he has to change to Jane to let go. It was a great time, but I was also glad to be back home as Jim made vigorous love to me. I don't think we do it any less, despite the time we have with Jane, probably more.

Jim's mother was in care home, mainly because of the damage caused by the beatings she received before her husband died in a car crash. On visits to her, we gradually introduced what was happening and on her birthday she was visited by her daughter Jane. They were both so happy. Jane wrote her letters and sent photographs of herself, and visited when she could until her mother died. Jim was thankful.

While Jane didn't need to be told about the birds and bees, periods and contraception (it would have been nice to have that conversation with my daughter) we did talk about sex. I wondered if Jane would want to complete her experience by having sex as a woman. I thought about it and (with a heavy heart) said she could have a boyfriend if she wanted, though it would take some managing. She said she appreciated the love I showed, but really had no desire of that kind. She said she had nothing against sex, and was glad that Jim and I enjoyed it often, but she honestly did not want or need it, and did not think about it because there was so much else for her. I took her dancing, which she liked, but she was not keen on the attentions of the men. Fortunately today it is normal for girls to dance together in groups. There is much to enjoy about being a woman without involving men.

We later made friends with other couples in a similar situation. I have of course learned something about crossdressing, mainly the fact that it takes many forms, from those happy to just be a man in a dress to those who eventually get operations. Many wear body shaping undergarments or special pants called gaffs, which hide away their genitals to give a flat front and no bulge. We know people who have done this and are very happy. However Jane was not interested. She is not a man trying to pass as a woman in everyday life, she just becomes a woman to herself (which is the only important thing) in time away from Jim. I do not think she could be Jane if she wore a gaff: she would be Jim pretending. She is just not bothered about her male genitals, and they are not very prominent, although we tend to choose clothes which do not emphasise this area, as I am still concerned for her safety. The first and favourite dress is perfect in this way. She likes pretty female clothes, rather than sexy ones, though she likes lingerie as most of us do.

Jane is so refreshingly honest and open in her view of the world. In particular in her appreciation of womanhood in general, and the joy she gets from participating in it.

I often look back to the moment that the perfect dress was just waiting for us, and the magical transformation it made. It was fantastic that Jim's mother got the daughter she always wanted. Jim and I are so glad to have been given Jane.