Butch

It was terrifying. I felt as if I had shed my skin completely, and I was there, soft and pink and unable to face the elements of the outdoors and any interaction with people who had the benefit of skin on their bodies. That is what these hormones had done to me. Not made me into a woman, but into a blancmange, rose pink and wobbly like jelly.

He went out and bought me some clothes - something other than the nighties, silk pyjamas and robes that I had worn around the house. Women's clothes were so foreign to me they might have been a spacesuit. Instead of a dress there were long black loose-fitting pants, and for the top there was a loose fitting green blouse that could have been a shirt had the buttons been the other way around. And under that top was a bra, white and big enough to fit around me and over my shoulders but made my little cones of flesh pretending to be breasts look truly pathetic. And there were matching panties, that could not possibly accommodate what was left of my genitals, but they did. Over it all was a coat that I could button and then belt at the waist. Then finally, fashionable boots with a heel that was no more than some cowboy boots I had worn. It was a feminine outfit, but it was pants, a shirt and a jacket. I could do this.

I wore a scarf over my head and big dark glasses. Simeon suggested that I take him by the arm, which I did, mainly because I felt that if I were to lose him in a crowd I would be lost forever, or found out, and stripped naked to reveal my tranny shame. But the sidewalk was basically empty in both directions. He led me as I clip-clopped along.

It was a cool winter's day which I guess reminded me that I must have been staying with him for several months. It was only just fall when I had ventured out for the last time as Butch. Now we were walking into a beauty shop and he was introducing me as Laurel.

I was expected. The ladies fussed over me. They knew that I was a man, but they treated me as a woman, just as Simeon did. After initial tension, I felt that I could relax in their presence.

"Call me when she is ready to be collected," Simeon told them. "Whatever is needed, put it all on my account."

My heart sank as he left. I had been with him and only him all this time. He had been holding me together while what had once been strong became weak and needy. Part of me wanted to chase him out into the street, and have him throw his coat over me and hide me.

"What a guy you have there," one of the ladies said. Did I have him? Was he mine? I knew that he had me. I was his, to do with as he wished, that much was clear.

"We're going to have to undress you for a full body wax," they said. And then we are going to give you a good facial before we do your hair."

I seemed so much bigger than them, but somehow smaller too, and weaker. They were in control, and I was not. I was a thing. Would I ever be a person again? Yet more of me was being yanked off me, as the hot wax set on my naked body. I relished the pain, as I did after a fight.

"What lovely little breasts you have," said one lady. "And a pretty face. And a good head of nice soft hair. Long enough to style into something truly beautiful."

If I had images of myself as a woman, those images were not of a beautiful woman. The princess dream had gone with my childhood. The vision I had developed when I was Butch, lying in bed with my dick tucked between my legs, was just a female version of myself. If in my dream I was a fat slut with stringy hair and living in a slum, I would have been happy so long as I had a vagina deep enough to take a big cock and tits for my man to fondle. Beauty was too much to ask for. I just wanted to be female.

So, what began to emerge that day, was revelatory. That day changed my life.

The repairs on my face had fashioned a dainty chin and delicate nose. My nose was never going to be small, but it was nicely shaped. The chin meant that I had lost forever the ability to jut my jaw and take a punch. Now feminine chin without being a weak chin, was plain to see.

My lips had been only slightly curled to become fuller, but had not been filled in the manner that looks so unattractive in some women. I would call them "kissable"

My eyes were never going to big either, but with eye makeup they looked good. And staring into them, I could find no trace of the man who had once lived behind them. He was gone. This eyes now looked tender and caring. The very opposite of him. And yet excited and questioning: Can I be this person?

But best of all was the mass of long dark hair that seemed to have come from nowhere. There was no mistaking what I was now.

Even with my shoulders still broad, although no longer muscled, and in nothing but a white tank top, I was clearly a woman. And an attractive one.

My breasts were not swollen by implants. They were growing day by day naturally, and when I stood naked they appeared womanly, but primed for further growth.

As I stood there, looking at the body in amazement, and seeing the face that would enable me to realize the dream of a life time, Simeon came up to me.

"May I touch you?" he asked.

"Touch me," I said. "Please touch me."

His hand on my breast made me gasp. My nipples hardened immediately. He reached up and rand a hand down my hair. My lips quivered, as if calling upon him to still them with his own. They did.

"I will never force myself on you," he said. "But I want to make love to you so much I am not sure if I can control myself.

"What makes you think that you could?" I said, grabbing his arm by the wrist, and squeezing as tightly as my wasted muscles would allow.

It was my last show of resistance. The last trace of the brute I once was. He picked me up as if I was a feather. He took me to his bed and laid me out, spreading my legs as he did so. I looked into his loving eyes as my dream came true. A man's penis was in my vagina. Better than that, the penis of the man I loved, the man who had rescued me, and given me everything I had ever wanted, was inside me, working my pink passageway. When that orgasm hit me, I thought that I could never achieve happiness like that in a thousand lifetimes. But that was just the beginning.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2019