Finding Myself Ch. 01

No immediate sex. Cross dressing, lingerie, hosiery, heels, romance, first love, anal.

All persons over 18 when engaging in sexual acts.

A work of fiction.

To understand me today, you need to know a little about my past. Bear with me while I share my tale.

I grew up in rural England with my Mum and three older sisters. We lived in a remote area, it was a renovated old farm building, so were driven to school each day. It was so far that I never had friends visit our house- instead I spent my time with my sisters. I have no recollection of my father. He left just after I was born. I'm sure you will ask if not having a father impacted my later life? I always felt loved by those that were important to me. For the first ten years of my life I lived carefree and happy. At school during the day I was Chris. Once I was home I changed into my other school uniform- blouse and skirt. I was happier as Chrissie. I did my homework and my chores. I was eager to learn so I studied hard. I also learned to cook, bake and sew. At weekends I wore mostly skirts, blouses and dresses. I was the little sister. The dressing, being Chrissie, not Chris was at my request. I was aged around five when I asked to wear the same pretty clothes as my sisters. My three older sisters- Sara, Claire and Eowyn would help me dress, we helped each other with hair, nail polish and makeup. There are two years between each of us in age. I attended dance and ballet lessons with them. I loved wearing tights. Feminine clothing is so much softer.

At primary school I was the only boy that sat next to a girl in class. Her name was Alice. She was shy like me- we would sit and talk, tell each other stories rather than play with the groups. We were best friends. I wished I could wear the same uniform for school as she did. Sky blue blouse, navy pleated skirt, white tights and cute Mary Jane shoes. Our friendship ended abruptly when her father died suddenly and she moved away. We never had the chance to say goodbye or share addresses- she was just gone. I often think of her: Alice with the beautiful blue eyes. Male friends at school went to football and raced around on bikes. I knew I was different even then.

My life changed when I was eleven. I was changing schools. My Mum was concerned that I would be bullied. My dance and ballet lessons ended. My room was redecorated with plain pale blue walls. My wardrobe was cleared out: lingerie, blouses, skirts, dresses and shoes all gone- donated to charity. I had new clothes- trousers, jeans, shirts, shorts and socks. For days I was miserable: inconsolable. Sara who was eighteen by that time, and was like a second mum to me, tried to cheer me up. She would be leaving in a few weeks for university. There were too many changes. She wiped my tears and hugged me.

"It will work out, you'll see," she told me.

I wasn't convinced especially as my first day at school didn't end well. The biggest boy in the new- year intake, let's call him Billy, wanted to stamp his authority and had started a fight with the smallest: a boy named Thomas. I was slight in build, short for my age, average looking with longer hair than most of the boys. I wasn't thinking when I called Billy out for being a bully and a coward. I took a beating, but managed to give some back. The fight was quick and dirty, I was a scrapper not a boxer. I bashed Billy's head against my knee. We were pulled apart by the teachers. I earned some respect from many, but gained a black eye, split lip and bruised ribs for my trouble. My shirt was ripped. Claire and Eowyn fussed over me while Mum picked her own fight with the headmaster. Billy was reprimanded: he never tried anything with me after that. I wouldn't say he was scared of me, but I had a reputation for being a bit crazy. I healed physically. I became friends with the other misfits. The young small boy targeted in the altercation, Thomas, became my best friend. I adapted to being Christopher. I stopped being Chrissie or Chris- it was just a painful reminder of what I had lost.

Following the incident Mum enrolled me in Karate to teach me discipline and allow me to defend myself. I loved it. It was precise fitting with how my mind worked. My ballet training held me in good stead-- it had ensured I was agile, flexible, I had speed and I had strength without being heavy muscle. I made a friend with Sensei's daughter -- Jane. She liked to spar with me: she had already gained several belts, but never showed off. She had confidence I could only dream of and a smile like sunrise. She had lovely blue eyes that I could lose myself in. We became good friends. She was a huge influence on my life: she made me want to push myself.

In my first year at my new school I studied hard and performed well. I made several good friends, but didn't mix with large groups. Mum was happy with my efforts. In my Karate I had passed several belts quickly to yellow. I absorbed techniques quickly. A new boy joined the group. He claimed he was a green belt. He was another bully. He hit me in the back on two occasions when the instructors weren't looking. I warned him that there would be consequences if there was a third. He laughed, called my bluff, punching my left kidney. I turned and punched him as hard as I could in the stomach. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes. To settle things it was decided we would fight at the end of the night- fists only. We were separated. Jane joined me to discuss strategy and give me advice.

"He will rush you, use his strength to push you back. He needs to be seen to punish you or he loses. So you can't let him win: dodge, block, keep moving: don't be a still target, and give him a good punch for me!"

You might have guessed by now I get into trouble when faced with bullies. Our hands were gloved. The fight was three minutes- one hundred and eighty seconds. He slammed his gloved fists into my torso before I was ready. I danced backwards giving me time and space. We circled. I tried to block or dodge as many of his punches as I could following Jane's advice. My speed and agility helped me- my blocks were quick and deflected his assault, the evasions frustrated him. I knew the clock was ticking, but I waited. I was focused on a single target- his face. I only needed one punch. He was over-confident, cocky- he overreached and I reacted like a cobra. I channelled everything I had into that punch- it contacted hard with his nose. It was like one of those cartoon moments -- boom! Batman and Wolverine would have been proud. Haha! He stumbled back on the training mat landing hard on his back. Blood poured from his nose and lip. He never came back after that. I had my first kiss that night. Jane threw her arms around me and kissed me. She was impressed with my cool approach and patience. Jane became my first girlfriend. We were together for the next two years. We held hands and kissed, but that's as far as it went. We were very young teenagers and were together much of the time. We talked a lot. She was strong willed, but also soft and beautiful. She was my first love and will always have a piece of my heart.

I was still slight in build with little body hair. I hated team sports, dreaded the showers, and despised the exposure: nothing happened, but I was very self-conscious of my body. I sat my exams at sixteen. All three of my sisters had left home by this time. I missed them. I performed well enough academically to progress to A levels. I elected to study computing, technical drawing and creative writing.

Stephanie was part of my creative writing course- she was tall, slim with blue eyes and flowing light brown hair. Yes, I think I have a thing for girls with blue eyes. Many at school called her Rapunzel. During the second year she had a break up with her boyfriend Brian. He was also in the class which made the situation volatile. She sat next to me as I sat furthest from Brian and was the odd number in the group. Brian scowled at me, but I just smiled.

I had gained a reputation for being intolerant to intolerance. I despise bullies, I despise people that pick that one thing that makes you different. I love people that accept each other for who they are no matter of race, gender, religion and all the other categories. I had friends that wore glasses, one who was completely deaf (he taught me sign language), a Sikh mocked for his turban, a small shy Korean girl and others: collectively we were the misfits. We didn't fit into the other groups and we didn't want to. The thing was individually yes we were different; together we looked out for each other. We could be who we were, not limited by how we looked.

Months passed and Stephanie and I talked a bit, mostly about coursework, but quickly became good friends. We became close, we went out together for drinks, dinner and dancing. We celebrated our eighteenth birthday within a few weeks of each other. We were by this time more than just friends; we lost our virginities to each other. We were both inexperienced: I think that made it easier for us as we had nothing to compare it with.

It had stated innocently enough, another Friday night of late study, her parents were away and had left money for Chinese. Once the studying was done and we had eaten we had sat and watched a movie. We had cuddled, but she wanted more. It didn't take long before we were on her bed naked. She straddled me and took control. Stephanie had perfect skin and lovely boobs. I admit I was excited, but also anxious. Her long flowing hair partially covered her upper body and as she leaned forward to kiss me it would tickle my chest. We changed position, we lay side by side, our bodies pressed closely together. We writhed together until she cried out.

"Have I hurt you?" I asked.

In response she laughed.

"No, I think that was an orgasm," she reported her face flushed.

She pushed against me moaning as she rode my cock. I had reached the point of no return and made my own little noise of pleasure. I have fond memories of cuddling her close. I'm certain I am remembering it in a romantic lovely way. It became a sort of regular Friday event- a reward for a long week of study. We heard the exploits of classmates, but for us it was our secret. Not because we were ashamed, but because it was special. I think this is the first time I have shared the experience with anyone.

After two long years of study I attained two A's and one B grade. I also passed my driving test and inherited the much loved, but old red Corsa. It was passed down through my sisters as they upgraded. Charlie the Corsa gave me greater freedom. I was accepted to a university in the North of England to study Computer Engineering. I was content. Stephanie and I agreed to keep in touch, but our lives quickly moved apart being at opposite ends of the country. Long distance relationships are very difficult.

I drove my tiny car with my few possessions to start the next chapter in my life. I rented a small space in a house- my landlady lived on the ground floor. It was at this time I rediscovered my love of lingerie, hosiery and satin. I let my hair grow. Most people interpreted my hair as an act of rebellion. No-one knew about my dressing. Some students drank, some smoked, some took drugs, many partied: I dressed. I studied hard. I excelled at most of my courses, but had little appetite for social stuff. I just didn't fit. I missed my many oddball friends. We shared letters and emails, but I was lonely. I spent much of my spare time building computers. I upgraded, repairing PC's and laptops for other students. I didn't charge much, but it helped me to pay for my books, contributed to my computer hardware and my new clothes. I often wore my femme clothing when studying alone.

My landlady was a mature lady in her fifties and was often away with work. I always just called her Mrs B. I didn't see her too often: paying my rent, storing food in the freezer or washing some clothes in the machine. I probably should have been more careful.

It was March in my second year of my studies, lunch time and I was heating soup. I was alone in the house like I was much of the time. I was wearing navy lingerie, nude opaque tights, court shoes and a dark blue dress. The dress was a favourite: it had long sleeves with cuffs, a peter pan collar and a full skirt.

"Well look at you?" called a voice from the kitchen door.

Surprised? I nearly had a heart attack. I spun around to discover Mrs B had returned unexpectedly. I didn't know what to say or do. I burst into tears. Mrs B took charge and hugged me.

"Oh, there's no need for tears," she assured me.

"I'm sorry."

"I thought I'd seen most things in the years I've rented rooms: late parties, loud music, being drunk, hangovers, cleaning up after, but this is different. I had no idea."

"That I'm a deviant," I sobbed.

"No judgements. You wear that dress well. Come and sit. Let's have a brew," she suggested handing me a tissue.

(For those not from the UK a 'brew' is a northern term for making tea- it's the answer to almost any crisis.)

"Please don't evict me," I begged.

"Oh, don't be daft you pretty girl. I'm not evicting you."

She poured tea while I dabbed my eyes with a tissue.

"So what happens now?" I asked.

"Well I think that depends on you. What should I call you? What's your inner girl called?"

"When I was younger I went by Chrissie. She had to go away for a few years while I was at school. I think she was always been there just waiting. When I came here to study I think she was waiting. I didn't mean for it to happen! I think I let her escape when I saw this dress in the shop window. I bought it, with matching lingerie, stockings and the shoes. I've bought other things too, but this is my favourite."

"With your lovely long dark hair you look very feminine. Do you go out?"

"Like this? No, someone might see me."

"You know what I think? I think Chrissie needs to go out, but in a safe environment."

"I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to. I would be humiliated."

"I have a friend. I'd like you to meet her. You need to talk about this. Dress however you're comfortable. Tomorrow we'll visit her for a chat."

Suffice to say, I didn't sleep much that night, I had lost my appetite and my stomach was tied in knots. Not butterflies- just a hive of giant angry hornets. The next day I wore black jeans and a sky blue shirt.

"Mrs B, is this okay? I don't want to give a bad impression."

"You look like a student, and I think you need to call me Rachael," she laughed.

Rachael took me in her car to an average house in an average street. I followed her to the door.

"Ready?" she asked.

"No, but I don't want to waste your time," I admitted.

She knocked and the door quickly opened. A well-dressed lady in a navy pencil skirt, matching jacket and very high heels greeted us. Her hair was a dark bob.

"Rachael, lovely to see you and you must be Christopher?"

I nodded.

"Please come in. I'm Serena."

I loved her house: it was light and bright. We sat in her lounge with a cup of tea. Cups not mugs! We chatted for a bit.

"I'm going to let you talk, I'll be back in an hour," reported Rachael.

She hugged me and left.

"So let's make a start. You may have worked it out- I'm a counsellor. Anything you tell me stays in this room. I don't keep files. I don't make recordings. I just try to help people. Please tell me about yourself," invited Serena.

"Mrs B, I mean Rachael, suggested that you could help me. I'm a student, second year computer engineering. What do you want to know?"

She smiled.

"Why are you here?"

"Rachael said you could help me."

"I need some information to work with," she said with a smile.

I was answering the questions, but I admit I was being evasive. Could I trust this stranger? Rachael did. Did I trust Rachael? Yes. She had been good to me. I had never been to a counsellor. I had never felt the need for therapy. Did I need fixing? I gave a brief summary of my life and my love of feminine attire.

"So how badly am I damaged? How do I get fixed?" I asked.

"You're not damaged. You don't need to be fixed."

"So I wasted your time, I'm sorry."

"No, you haven't wasted my time, not at all, please don't think like that. I think you're wearing a mask- you're hiding who you are. I think you are trying to be what is expected of you, rather than what you want to be. You need to decide who you want to be."

"So now I'm Batman?" I replied sarcastically.

She smiled kindly.

"I'd like to talk to you again. I'd like you to take some time and think about the real you."

That night I battled a thousand unnamed demons on a hundred worlds. I woke breathing hard. I was compelled to locate my feminine sleepwear. I found my wine satin chemise, slipped it on returning to my bed. I slept- I felt calmer. In my dreams I was wearing a dark red dress as I walked slowly through a wheat field. In the morning I reflected on the dreams. I shared them with Serena at my next meeting.

"I think Chrissie is the real me," I concluded.

"From what you have told me, I agree."

"So why didn't you say that last time?"

"It was important you worked this out for yourself. You just needed a little focus."

I had an 'oh' and 'a-ha' moment.

"So what now?" I asked.

"I would like to meet Chrissie."

"I'm still here."

"I don't think so."

She handed me a mirror.

"Is that Chrissie?"

I looked at my reflection at my scruffy hair and clothes. I could see Chrissie, but she was concealed behind Christopher. I shook my head.

My next visit was harder and also easier- harder because I was outside as Chrissie, easier because it was the real me. I wore my favourite dress with my lingerie and heels. I brushed out my hair. Rachael smiled when she saw me.

"Very pretty! No lectures today?" she asked.

"No, just a presentation on prioritising work load: another student is emailing me the highlights, and Chrissie has a meeting with Serena."

"I'm heading that way, do you need a lift?"

"Thank you. I'm not sure I could drive in heels," I admitted.

"I think you adapt quickly, but let's walk before we run or drive," she suggested.

The scheduled meeting was over in a flash. Serena invited me to a group event- it was a support group and a monthly social. I reluctantly agreed. It was a Wednesday evening from 8pm until last orders at a LGBT and CD friendly bar. It was away from the university campus so I hoped I could keep my secret identity.

The next days blurred together, but my studies kept me from dwelling too much on Chrissie. I aced another assessment and completed another lab assignment building a network. I was really happy with my successes. I rushed back to my lodging. I found a garment bag hanging over my door frame with a note from Rachael.

'I saw this and thought of you. I hope it fits. Please let me see you before you leave. Rachael.'

I took it into my bedroom unzipping the bag to find a royal blue dress: it was good material, well made, long sleeves, v-necked and knee length. I held it against myself and smiled. I shaved, showered and performed my toilette. I wanted to make a good impression, but was dreading the social interaction required. I had no intention of anyone seeing my lingerie, but I wanted to look my best. I wondered if women thought the same thing. I selected mid blue panties and bra with pale sheer tights. Stepping into the dress and it pulling over my body was a delight: it was satin lined; drawing the zip only increased my pleasure as it embraced my body: it was an amazing fit. My next dilemma was shoes: did I go for ballet flats, court heels or stilettos? I settled on black two inch heeled Mary Jane shoes with a double strap. They were cute, but comfortable. It had been a while since I had last worn make-up, but I applied it carefully. Accessories: jewellery, my one good handbag and my coat completed my look. I hoped it wouldn't rain.