The X-Tests

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When my wife insisted on therapy, I really had no choice.
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BethanyJ
BethanyJ
463 Followers

***

A series of TG-themed stories which I hope will be of interest to those who like women, or would like to be a woman. Which includes me!

***

Kathy looked at me, hard. She looked disapprovingly at my legs. Actually I thought my legs were looking mighty fine at that moment, as legs go that is. But she didn't approve, and said so in no uncertain terms.

"Just look at those legs! How much did those stockings cost then? No, don't tell me, more than I'd ever pay I know. Well, that decides it. Aunt Mary's money, we'll use it. You need therapy!"

She'd mentioned the possibility of therapy of some kind a couple of days earlier but I'd been able to dismiss it out of hand on account of the cost.

"Well Victor, if you didn't spend so much of our money on - well, you know - on clothes and makeup and so on, maybe we could afford it."

"But I have to look good don't I? And that costs, doesn't it?"

"NO YOU FUCKING DON'T HAVE TO LOOK GOOD!"

She was shouting, almost uncontrollably. I really did think she was over-reacting and I said so.

"I AM NOT OVER-REACTING! Sorry, Victor. I didn't mean to shout. But any wife would be concerned, I mean, with you looking like that. And so smug too."

"I'm not smug, really honey. I'm just pleased to have got a pair of stockings like these at that price. They're a bargain, don't you think, only £17.99?"

She paused. She looked me quite coldly yet with some sympathy in the eyes.

"Victor dear, I really do think you need therapy."

And we'd left it at that. I'd spent the evening 'dressed', admiring my legs at every opportunity and we'd not mentioned the subject again. Until two days later, in the evening, when we'd opened the post and realised my Aunt Mary had left us a larger sum than we imagined in her will.

"So, Victor - no excuses. I've had a word with June over the road, earlier, and before you worry I didn't tell her why. I don't want the neighbours knowing at all about you and your weird habits."

"Weird?" I queried.

Kathy ignored the comment, she just carried on.

"June mentioned someone I've already heard about from one of the girls at work. So I've rung the psychiatrist. No arguments. I've arranged an appointment for you next Monday, 5.30. It's this side of Stoke, Dr. Mills has an office at home and works out of there sometimes. We're both going, I want to make sure you get there."

So that was it. Arranged. Trapped. No way out of it.

'Still,' I thought, 'where's the harm, I'll go along with it for a few sessions to please Kathy.'

That next Monday, at 5.30 almost to the dot, we were pulling into the small drive of a largish house on the southern outskirts of the Potteries. I'd tried to cry off with a headache but I'd failed. As we got out of the car a tall well-built and well-tanned man, wearing a typical British male middle class blue pin-stripe suit, came out of the door and strode towards us. Kathy was there first. She shook his hand and began to speak to him as I tried to get the car transmitter to operate the alarm - it was sometimes a bit tricky when the battery was running low. Eventually it worked and I turned to greet the guy myself.

"Hi there, Victor Carter, pleased to meet you."

I always think I can sum someone up very quickly indeed, it comes in useful when I am interviewing people and so on. This guy, I thought, I can cope with. Outdoor type, professional and confident, probably into sports and so on. It occurred to me that if I played my cards right I could spend most of the so-called 'counselling' sessions talking about rugby and football and so on.

"Clive Mills, do come on in, Mr. Carter. My wife will be along in a moment."

I knew what that meant, or at least I thought I did. His wife was going to take Kathy away somewhere, probably to have tea or something while Clive and I did the session. I was wrong.

As we entered the door, Mrs Mills appeared. And she was indeed striking. I shouldn't have been surprised really. He was a handsome guy, she was an attractive woman. Together they did indeed look what I supposed they were, a couple of professional people who seemed suited to each other and had their lives under control. I wondered what line of work she was in. I soon found out.

"Good evening, Dr. Mills. I'm Kathy Carter and this is my husband Victor."

DOCTOR Mills. Shit. A woman doctor, Kathy hadn't mentioned that. Were they both doctors? But no. Clive spoke.

"Melissa dear, I'll take Mrs Carter through to the lounge if you want to see Mr Carter alone later. Does that sound OK?"

"Thanks Clive. OK you two, through here, into the lion's den. I always do that joke, it's not really funny is it? But please don't feel intimidated, Victor, I'm here to offer help if I can. I should only need a brief discussion today to decide if I want to take the case on. With both of you first, though, to sort out the ground rules. OK?"

She sounded confident. Competent, In control, like I said. But a woman? Was I going to have to tell a WOMAN why I was here? But of course Kathy must have given her some idea already.

"Please sit down. We'll have do some tea in a few minutes but let's sort out what we can first shall we? Who's going to start? I know some details, but I want to hear them from you, to hear the context. Mrs Carter, tell me, how long have you been married?"

Kathy started out, in fact she carried on for quite a few minutes which seems unfair since all this was supposed to be in some way to help me. Not that I thought I needed help of course. I mean, I was quite happy with things as they were. I could see Kathy's point of view but I thought she was over-reacting herself. I mean, what harm was I doing - to anyone.

"It was alright up to then ....."

I hadn't been really listening, I have to admit I had been admiring Dr. Mills' hands, her nails were exquisitely sculpted, wow that really was turning me on, even in that situation.

".... that was when it got too much. I mean, he's spending more on clothes than I am, all fashionable stuff, when he's prettied up ..... he's better dressed than I am, it's not fair, and I can't talk to anyone about it. I mean, his figure, when he's wearing a basque or a bustier, they're not cheap, you know, and ..."

Kathy had been going on and on, rambling more and more. She chatted on for a few minutes, then Dr. Mills started to get into the meat of the situation

"So Victor, tell me, just how did you start out dressing in women's clothes? What was the initial prompt, if you can remember?"

I was surprised to find her being so forward and, though I started to tell her I kept glancing at Kathy. I'd never told her the whole story and was a little worried how she would react to find out it had been going on so long. Dr. Mills must have sensed my discomfort, she interrupted me.

"Kathy, why don't you go along to the kitchen? It's just down the hall on the left. Clive should be there, he'll make you some tea. Victor and I have to talk on our own for a little while, I think."

As Kathy left, Dr. Mills turned towards me.

"Victor, before you go on, let me tell you that I've heard enough to persuade me to take on your case. I don't want to go on too long today, Clive and I are going out to dinner this evening but there's just one thing I always do with new clients. I want you to listen very carefully. I want to tell you about what we therapists call the 'extreme solutions'."

"Extreme?" I queried, sounding maybe a little worried by her use of the word.

With which she stood up, walked round the desk towards me, and sat facing me on the edge of the desk. And crossed her legs! I was ecstatic! From that close up I realised just how attractive a woman she was. In some ways a transvestite's fantasy, the 'business-woman' look I had seen and admired on so many websites.

Harsh but well-cut business suit, creamy silk-look blouse. And the legs, in black tights I assumed - it was too much to hope she was wearing stockings. In fact as her hem slid up as she wriggled to get comfortable, I am sure I would have seen a tell-tale sign of stocking tops if she was wearing them. I was suddenly distinctly uncomfortable. She noticed that.

"No, Victor. I'm wearing tights, not stockings. I do know about cross-dressers' fantasies you know."

How had she guessed? Then I realised. She was a therapist, a trained counsellor. Obviously, she had to in some way get inside the mind of the person she was dealing with. Or maybe I was reading too much into this? Christ though, she was suddenly, to me, a very attractive woman. How I'd like to ....

"Victor. Would you like to fuck me?"

Shit! Was I that transparent?

"Well, you have to put all such thoughts out of your mind. And please don't get upset or over-excited. We have to trust each other. Our sessions are confidential, you know. I won't even tell your wife what we discuss, not without your express permission. I am a woman after all, and I do know the effect I have on men. In a world like this one I use whatever weapons I have in my armoury, my legs and tits included. Short of actually having sex or course, that would be unprofessional. Please, if I have to use sexual language, don't be offended. There is an obvious sexual connotation to most cross-dressers' behaviour, we have to discuss these things. And I have to study your reactions. However, I'll move."

With which she slid off the desk, making sure the skirt didn't move up any more, and went back round to the other side of the desk. I took the opportunity, while she was facing away, to rapidly adjust my trousers between my legs, to ease the growing discomfort there.

"Now Victor, the extremes. By that I mean the outcomes of our consultations. My advice after we have finished our sessions. It may be moderate, small changes to your lifestyle and Kathy's. Or it may be more major, for one or both of you. OK?"

"Er -- OK. Yes. Go on."

I had calmed a little, and listened attentively, trying to look at her face rather than her figure. But even that got me a little excited. I was studying her make-up, looking at how she had done her eye-shadow.

"Victor. Concentrate. Now, it may be that I decide that your cross-dressing has to stop, that it is not an appropriate mode of behaviour. That it really is rather silly and is causing Kathy too much grief. That you seek some other outlet for your energies, one which you and Kathy can share. Not exactly football or fishing or whatever, but some non-sexual hobby. Foreign holidays maybe, I don't know at this stage. How does that grab you?"

I realised I hadn't spoken for quite some time. I cleared my throat.

"Well, doctor. I'm not too sure at the moment. I do enjoy my hobby, that's how I see it. But I do realise it is a rather private thing. I mean, I can't go down to the pub with Kathy dressed, things like that. But I would miss the dressing, right now I really do think I would."

"OK. Understood, Victor. And what about the other extreme? I might decide you are a woman."

"What?" I exclaimed. I didn't understand. "But I'm not. Obviously."

"There's nothing at all obvious about it, Victor. Just sometimes a person is born in the wrong sort of body. Someone with very strong feminine tendencies is born in a male body, for example. He, or rather she, is usually pretty miserable about it. Cross-dressing goes part of the way but sometimes more drastic action is needed."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like GRS - gender re-assignment surgery."

I didn't like the sound of that but I was rather intrigued.

"You must have heard of it, Victor. There have been a few well-publicised cases but there have been many more. "

"So what does that involve?"

"Making a man's body into a real woman's, not just dressing him up. Usually hormones to change the metabolism, maybe breast implants, maybe hair implants. And castration is frequently necessary. Removal of the penis followed by the fashioning of a vaginal cavity."

I shivered at the thought.

"But, Victor, that is an extreme example. And it wouldn't happen without an awful lot of consultation and discussion, with you and with Kathy, and ..."

"But - I mean - what would happen to us? To me and Kathy I mean, if ...."

"As I said, Victor, that's the extreme scenario. If it DID happen - well - the marriage would be over of course, two women can't legally be married. You could still live together, as lesbians maybe, or as two good friends, go out together maybe. Maybe enter into a Civil Partnership. But that's a long way off. Let's just get through the next few weeks first, shall we? I'd like a brief word with Kathy alone first, if I may."

We went through into the kitchen, and found her reading a cookery book. A very smart kitchen it was too, obviously this couple had done well for themselves.

"Er - Melissa. Clive's gone into town. He said he had forgotten something."

"OK Kathy, I know what it is, the wine for this evening. But listen, both of you. Don't worry about Clive. Actually he's very rarely here this early, he does work so hard. He's not a doctor, so there are no client-doctor relationship problems. He's a lawyer in fact. But we must move on."

So Kathy had ten minutes alone with Dr. Mills - Melissa. Nice name for a nice woman. Then we all shook hands and we headed home, having arranged for me to have my first 'proper' session the next Monday at the same time. As we turned onto the M6 Kathy asked me the question.

"Well, Victor, what do you think?"

I paused to let a large lorry overtake me, then replied.

"I have to admit, Kathy, I wasn't too sure when we got there. I thought Clive was the doctor! But Dr. Mills seems OK, she knows what is what, I only hope we can get something sorted out to satisfy us both."

And that night we made love. Very satisfactorily, something we hadn't managed to do for quite a while.

The next weekend I didn't dress. Usually I did at the weekend, and sometimes of an evening midweek too. I think it was because I was doing it so often that Kathy had become concerned. That and the fact that she didn't entirely see what I got out of it either. And the Monday and Tuesday I didn't do anything connected with my 'hobby'. On Wednesday I did but I overcame the urge to actually dress. I overheard a discussion between two of the girls in the canteen at work, going on about a shop one of them had found where she had got a skirt at a very good price. On another occasion I'd maybe have called in at the shop on the way home, I realised it was on my way. But I didn't. However I DID make a mental note. For another occasion maybe?

Right on time the next week I pulled up nervously at the doctor's house. I was pleased in a way that I'd managed not to actually 'dress' or indeed do any TV-related stuff in the intervening seven days. I had suffered a bit, maybe from some sort of withdrawal symptoms, and had complied in almost every way - until I stopped at the motorway service station on the way to the appointment.

The store had all sorts of stuff in it, not just cigarettes and sweets and newspapers. There was, almost right next to the entrance, a branch of 'Sock Store' - selling accessories, not just socks, but ties and belts and some women's things. Including stockings. And right next to the cash desk was a display of what the store called 'dress hosiery'.

'Just the sort of thing to attract a tranny,' I thought.

And there, facing me, enticing me, was one of those hosiery models, you know the sort of thing, a pair of big plastic legs wearing hose. But this one was - well! Fishnets! I'd always fancied myself in fishnets but I'd never bought any. These were black, with a finer mesh than most I'd seen and with a sheen to them that began to turn me on. Even there, even in that franchise outlet in a motorway service station. I just had to have them - less than a tenner, they were.

I felt guilty as soon as I'd bought them and hid them in the glove compartment of the car as soon as I got in. Just in case the doctor should for any reason look into the car. I'd gone a whole week without succumbing to my desires, then I'd given in at the last minute. But they were lovely stockings!

When I rang the bell Dr. Mills answered the door herself, this time wearing a slightly male-looking suit. But no guy I know ever made a pin-stripe suit look so good! I followed her through into her office and we sat down facing each other across her desk.

"OK Victor, let's get started. Now I'm not one of those counsellors who thinks absolutely everything in us comes from our childhood. Parents get blamed for far too much in my opinion. However it would help me form a picture to see just where you are coming from. So why don't you give me a potted history, a 'This is your Life' of Victor Carter. In your own time, we've got nearly an hour."

I had almost expected something like that so I was ready. I told Melissa about my upbringing, school, college, little out of the ordinary really - except when I started to like wearing my mother's clothes and some of my sister's when I was about 18.

Dr. Mills continued with more questions. Understandably really, after all she was there to find out what was making me tick. Or at least to investigate what my wife thought of as my unfortunate hobby. The questions became more and more probing until - she rather caught me on the hop.

"So you started at 18? Rather late, Victor, most cross-dressers start much earlier. Any idea WHY you started, at that particular time?"

Actually I did have, a very definite idea. I had wondered whether to tell her. But she was good at her job, it was easy talking to her. She asked a couple of questions very gently and with a rather sexy tone to her voice, implying it was going to be all right to tell her about it.

I paused to think. Was I going to tell the truth? I looked across at her, again thinking what an attractive woman she was despite the lack of skirt. She had moved round the desk and was sitting, knees crossed, on it. I observed her feel, or her shoes rather. Not like my tranny HIGH heels but probably 3", maybe 3 1/2". I was good at estimating that sort of thing. And wearing tights maybe, certainly not stockings.

"In case you're wondering, Victor, yes I do like to wear high heels, it does give a more feminine appearance. And these are knee-highs, I know most cross-dressers prefer stockings. Did you wear stockings that first time?"

I had decided - I liked her. I liked her a lot. And I wanted to keep on coming, at least while I was enjoying it. And it was in some ways a relief to talk to someone else about all this.

"Well, Melissa, that first time. I didn't actually dress. It was - someone else who started me off."

"Someone else? Another cross-dresser? You said you had not met any others. You said the dressing was a solo thing for you. Just for you and your wife. Oh, and. I think you'd better call me Dr. Mills. Let's not get too friendly shall we, we really should keep it professional. Now. Who was this?"

"My Aunt June."

"Your Aunt? She started you dressing? How?"

"Oh no - er - Dr. Mills. Not like that. It was just one time when I went to stay with her. I really fancied her daughter, her step-daughter actually, she wasn't really related to me. But she was a real doll, very attractive. It must have been when I was about 18, full of hormones, you know. God's gift to girls, I thought. I'd gone down to Portsmouth to stay a couple of days - and I admit to try to get off with Lara, that was the daughter. But it was Aunt June who turned me on."

"Well, this is rather surprising, Victor, do tell. How?"

She turned to pick up a pad and started to take notes again. I wondered exactly what she was writing. I continued.

"Aunt June was a very beautiful woman, and she knew it. Always dressed for the men, she had about three husbands I think. Uncle John - her current one - was the second I think, we've lost track a little in our family. Anyway she knew he was already having an affair with a woman from work, they'd been married about a year at the time if I remember it right. But she had decided she wanted a piece of the action too. So while he was away in the States she had got herself a date with her boss. Or maybe her boss's boss. Anyway I remember when she came downstairs on her way out, to tell me and Lara to 'be good, and if you can't be good be careful' while she was out. I remember even now what she looked like."

BethanyJ
BethanyJ
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