Magic Dress - Michelle Pt. 03

When I got back home on Sunday it was less than 24 hours since I had said I was going out on a date. In that time I had slept with a woman (actually slept), had my first fuck, my first nightie, enjoyed being a girl, fallen in love and decided to leave home. Mum of course was relieved that I hadn't been involved in some sort of accident.

"No need to ask how the date went," said Dad happily. "That's my boy!"

"I'm happy for you," said Mum, and hugged and kissed me.

In my mind I had rehearsed "Anne has asked me to move in with her." Instead I said "I'm moving in with her, so I'll start taking some of my things."

"You don't waste any time, do you?" chortled Dad. "Mind you, it's about time. You've been cluttering the place up for far too long."

He offered to give me a lift with the first batch of things. Mum naturally wanted to sort out my least worn underwear and more respectable clothes, plus a range of toiletries, and of course pyjamas. All sorts of things such as books and games of course stayed in my room, but we moved enough to start.

That evening, Anne and I lay in bed and said I worried that my cock was not big enough for her. She laughed. "I've told you, it's perfect. Length is no advantage because pretty much all the nerve endings in a woman are in the first couple of inches, and I'm a healthy young woman with a tight pussy so you fill me up fine."

I asked her to teach me about sex, as she had more experience and I wanted it to be good for her. "You don't need lessons," she laughed. "You have natural talent and of course you love me. It's all going to be fine. Just do what you think -- it's going to be more fun that way. If I want anything else, I'll tell you." I wasn't totally reassured.

Kathy told me to stop going to the barber, which I did. My parents did not like it, but accepted it as I was now independent (and definitely not gay, but New Romantic).

Anne bought some clothes from the charity (after discussing them with me), and greatly increased my wardrobe. We started taking little walks out in the evening, and I lived my dream of being a girl walking along, chatting with a friend. The movements I had practised became automatic, and I had my own handbag!

Eventually Kathy took me to a posh hair salon which catered for both men and women and told me not to look at the price list. Anne watched. A man who was acting a bit unnecessarily camp examined my hair for a long time. Although I had washed it before coming, it was shampooed again, and he began snipping, very little it seemed to me. When I was dried it seemed very much the same, though a bit bouncier, presumably due to some conditioner. He then combed it and put in a parting. I looked good, I admit. A smart man with longish hair, perhaps a bit New Romantic, but a man. I was rather disappointed.

Then he worked his own magic. Combing it differently, and the deft use of a hairspray it had more volume and was definitely female. Brushing it, he converted me back to a man. He said the hairspray brushes out. Then with hair grips and rubber rings he did two other styles, as Anne watched intently.

Kathy paid by credit card. I am sure it must have cost a lot. The she said she had something else for me.

So far I had only worn actual female clothes. However, I still had a little bulge at the front which people might notice. She gave me what looked like a nice pair of panties, but were actually from a specialist shop. It was called a gaff and was strong material to hide male genitals. She said that Yvette liked to wear them, and would help me, which she did.

I had already discovered that my balls could push up into my body and now learned that I could push my cock back between my legs and the gaff would hold it in place. Everyone said that it looked wonderful and made me completely into a girl. (Everyone meaning Kathy, Yvette and Anne, of course.) I agreed, but somehow didn't like it for any length of time. Eventually I discovered that I could push my balls into the cavities and hold them there with medical tape. Hiding them was a major improvement, and if I put my cock upwards, as it would normally be, then the gaff flattened it, so there was a smaller bulge, which I blamed on a full pubic bush. I could even do this with normal panties and it did not look too bad, so I did not put my cock backwards. I was sort of sorry to have to think about such things, but it would be helpful if I was to live more as a woman without causing trouble or offence.

I was now, I guess, an effeminate man at work, but obviously they were the sort of people who accepted me. In the evenings I relaxed in a dress, and of course slept in a nightie. At the weekends I was increasingly confident going out with Anne as a woman friend.

Anne raised my cock any time she wanted and I ceased thinking about myself as Michael for this purpose -- it didn't seem to matter. However, I was always Michael when visiting my parents, sometimes with Anne, sometimes alone. When alone, Dad would ask after her with a wink or a nudge, and call me 'my boy' or 'son'.

In a sense it would have been easier if I had been gay, because coming out in this sense is at least well-known. But I was not gay. I was living with my girlfriend and fucking her a lot. I really didn't fancy men. It was just apart from that I really liked being a girl. How could I explain it?

I decided that as I would soon be twenty-one, that would be the time to tell them, but Anne begged me not to. "Please don't spoil it for them," she pleaded. "They are so happy that you are settled with me as your girlfriend. Let them enjoy your twenty-first, then gradually break it to them." I agreed that would be kindest.

On the day I went in my best Michael clothes with Anne to my parents' home to the cake my mother had made. They were both always pleased to see Anne, of course. I didn't have many friends or relatives, but a few came round for a while. When everyone else had left, I could see my Dad preparing for a speech. He has a special expression, but fortunately his speeches are short.

"Well son, we can't give you any present better than the one you found for yourself. I might also say that Anne has been the best present we have had since our little boy was born. You've got a regular job and a good woman, and that has been all I have ever needed. You know we'll help you financially if anything further develops with you two." Obviously Mum had been talking about marriage and grandchildren!

"But for now, we've got a couple of little presents for you. Don't open them now. I'll give you a lift, and you can open them at leisure in your flat." He produced some packages in wrapping paper with 21 all over them, and ribbons.

It was obviously time to go, so there was some final kissing and he took us home. We noticed that the presents had numbers on them, and tickets saying 'open in order'.

Number one was a heavy rectangular package. When the wrapping was off it was in brown paper, and marked 'With love to Mikey, from Mum'. It proved to be 21 issues of the girlie magazine Mum had given me when I said I wasn't gay. I didn't know what to say, but I could feel my face going red.

"Don't be daft!" laughed Anne. "Your Mum told me about this magazine. We can both enjoy them together. You know I appreciate girls and we both like looking at clothes. It's a wonderfully witty present. I do like your Mum! Oh, look at this: 'Final issue'. She must have gone to a lot of trouble. Let's see what it says."

The editorial said farewell to loyal readers who had enjoyed tasteful appreciation of the female form, clothed and unclothed. With falling sales the publishers had decided not to compete with what they called "open beaver magazines" but rather to close while maintaining their standards. "That's rather touching," she said.

(And indeed she did enjoy looking through them with me and discussing the girls and their clothes. The final issue quoted thanks from several women readers, and from some of the models saying how much they had appreciated the many kind and respectful letters they had received.)

Number two was a pink frilly nightdress, with a card inside saying 'To Michelle, Love from Dad". I realised Anne must have told them, but was both touched and amazed the old codger had managed to keep a straight face at the birthday.

Number 3 was 21 pairs of panties: 'To Michelle, Love from Mum'.

Number 4 was two small identical boxes, one 'from Mum' and one 'from Dad'. Each of these turned out to contain a breast! That is, what are called breast forms. Natural-looking and -feeling silicone items which can be used to fill a bra. They are quite expensive.

"You know what we have to do?" said Anne. I did. So we got ourselves ready and called a taxi to take us back to Mum and Dad. There they were, waiting with a bottle of champagne. Michelle thanked them for the presents, wearing (of course) the magic dress, and encouraged them to feel her chest. They were quite impressed and of course pleased, as was I. I really loved those breasts! "Best birthday presents ever," I whispered to Mum.

It was now convenient for me to visit them as Michelle, and Mum began to talk to me in a different way. Eventually we went out to town together, looking at clothes and having a coffee like mother and daughter. When we got home she burst into tears and Dad asked what was wrong. She said she knew I had been unhappy as Michael and now she was so happy that I was Michelle. Dad got his 'never understood women' face.

A while later when I visited he had the 'serious conversation coming up' face. Eventually, Mum got the courage to ask how far I intended to go as a woman.

"Like your own boobs," said Dad, obviously struggling a bit

"And you know, surgery down there," whispered Mum.

"We'll support you financially if you need it," said Dad. I think he was choking back tears.

Phew! What a relief for me, and it turned out for them. I explained that I had no interest in making myself attractive and functional for sex with men. The plastic boobs were mainly there to make clothes right: I didn't need implants at other times, and was perfectly happy with Anne's breasts in the bed. Anne would be sorry if I lost my male genitals and I would be unable to take advantage of her vagina.

Dad in particular looked surprised. "So you and Anne...?"

"Oh yes," I said. "All the time!"

He looked surprised, then smiled. In fact, he leered. "Best of both worlds, eh son? Maybe you're not so daft after all!"

Mum was also relieved and happy.