Naked

Do clothes make the woman?

I thought I had it all.  After years of confusion and denial, I accepted that I loved the feminine in me.  The woman in me.  But as much as I loved the fantasy, I was also a realist.  My penis wasn’t going anywhere.  My stubble was going to continue to grow, and I was never going to have breasts.  But that feminine side could still come out to play.  I could strip down my masculinity and remove as much as I could.  My body was shaved.  My skin clean and naked.  A clean canvas to start with. 

At first it was just the secret pieces I’d wear.  Panties.  Stockings.  When I was particularly daring and going out with a baggy shirt I’d even occasionally wear a bra, hugging my flat chest.  As I grew in my femme feelings, my wardrobe increased.  I’d wear a skirt and blouse when doing the housework.  I’d work from home with a dress slipped on.  I’d shiver in delight when I heard my heels click over the wooden floors.  

It only took a few years for my confidence to grow.  I could put on a wig on, pin it to my hair, and comb or brush it into many different styles.  I learned to put on makeup to take me from masculine, to clownish, to androgynous, to girly, to eventually truly feminine.  I knew how to paint my toenails and apply stylish fake fingernails to match.  I had several waist nipping corsets that gave shape and a couple gaffes that removed shape.  My breast forms were perky and attractive without being grotesque porn blogs on my chest.  I could even hide my voice enough to go out and speak those hellos, goodbyes, and yeah yeahs to help me navigate society. 

And for a couple years I thought this was it.  I was as feminine as any woman.   Until I met her.  It’s strange for a woman as beautiful and classy as her to show interest in a guy like me but there she was at the bar chatting me up.  I liked her enough that I tried to quietly bow out and let her go on to find her true love of the night but she insisted I stay and keep her company.  When we eventually went to her place and made love it was as disappointing as I’d feared.  I wasn’t big down there nor skilled in the techniques of giving pleasure.  I came too fast and fairly sure I didn’t even get close to getting her off.  

But instead of her being upset or angry she seemed fine.  She snuggled close to me and whispered into my ear that it would all be okay.  After going out several times I really fell in love with Simone.  I didn’t know why she loved me back, but I did love her dearly.  I thought that deeply rooted feeling would banish those femmy feelings, would make me a man again, but if anything it strengthened them.  I dressed more and imagined what it would be like to make sapphic love to her.   It began eating me up on the inside.  That I was keeping this side of me, my Caitlyn self, from my love was killing me.  And in the bravest moment I’ve ever felt I dressed up in all my feminine glory for the last time.  Only when I couldn’t see a bit of my Calvin self in the mirror did I invite her over. 

 I had it planned.  I had it all laid out.  I’d introduce myself, tell her about my journey, show her how much time and effort and thought went into this side of my life, and finally give it up for her.  I’d shut Caitlyn into a the drawers and closets she lived in and commit to being the best man I could be for my precious Simone.  When my love walked into my apartment I was shocked quiet when she said hello to me.  To Caitlyn.  I’d never told anybody in the flesh that name, so how did she know?  Before I could gather my thoughts she started talking about my feminine side.  She put the pieces together as if it was a story she’d heard before.  How I struggled and learned and eventually accepted that I’d never be a woman.  That final wall would always be to high to climb so acceptance at putting all my feminine energy into clothing and hair and cosmetics was enough.  And when she leaned in, when she kissed me and told me that I was just wrong in all of that, she let her hands to the rest of her talking. 

 Her hand flowing through my hair felt like magic.  I had my long red wig on, but I didn’t feel her fingers pulling the wig’s pins in my hair.  I felt her fingers pulling the long hairs in my scalp.  Another kiss from her silenced my question as she slid my stylish white silk blouse off my smooth small shoulders.  I couldn’t stop the gasp as our lips parted and I looked down to see my breasts pushing at the lacy pink bra.  And when she flicked it open and pulled it from my chest I saw my breasts there in all their glory.  Not the glorious forms that I paid so much for, but my real breasts.  And if I had any doubt the squeal that spilled from my lips as she brushed her nails over my puffy hardening nipples silenced it. 

 It took Simone an hour to undress me.  Her hands touched every inch of my flesh as it was revealed.  The corset fell off and left my slim waist behind.  My stockings and heels left my shapely legs and dainty feet as part of me.  My panties pooled to floor, already forgotten, as I saw the slit I’d never even dreamed I’d see between my own legs.  I was so engrossed with my body being revealed that I didn’t know when Simone disrobed.  Was she taking off her own clothes in time with mine?  Did she undress while I gaped at my new body?  All I knew is hat when she turned me to face the mirror, wrapped her arms around me, and placed her hands on my breasts, all I saw looking back at us were two naked women. 

 “Clothes made you feminine.  But you’re so much more than that Caitlyn.  Now you’re the woman you always should have been.  Now you’re the woman I want to love.”  I thought I knew the meaning of ‘crying tears of joy’, but I was wrong.  I learned what it really meant that day as I wept and laughed and thanked the love of my life.  

source:  fuskator

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I know I don't normally do a write up on my obscura, but I really really liked this one.  It put so many eggs into this one creation that it just feels right.  First, like the past few posts, this is from my collection of old saved images.  I didn't save this particular image, instead I just had a link to the gallery with the note "Maybe Simone?"

Now, that didn't quite make sense at first.  Especially back in the era when I saved this.  I've looked at Simone (of The Modern Goddess fame) as the ultimate in feminine class.  I've looked at her as a kind and loving but strong willed Mistress.  I've looked at her as a slave made to please others and feminize the world.  But I rarely, if ever, looked at her as naked in her stronger selfs.  Sure, the beauty here matches what I see in my head when I think Simone, but I almost feel she should be wearing something classy.   Even if it's panties, a garter belt, and stockings.  

Now, no matter how I saw her, Simone was always the brunette in these images.  Not just because I always picture Simone as a brunette (I think I've actually made her blonde a few times...) but because the redhead there is Faye Reagan.  If you've ever played with me over at D+X, you should immediately recognize her as my avatar.  She's who I project myself as.  That started in 2011 and has never changed in 10 years of playing 'Caitlyn Cockslave' or 'Miss Caitlyn' over there.  So, obviously I had looked at these images as Simone and me.  

Now, I can't imagine what I was thinking for a story back then.  But now a days a lot of my story ideas surround the real true life mixture of masculine and feminine.  How a man, like me, goes from being a normal shleb of a guy to a woman.  There's the physical and there's the mental, but there's also the style.  The dress.  The makeup.  With my current mindset, I don't think I'll ever transition to being a physical woman.  That's just not the sexuality I have.  It's not that I'm happy being in a man's body, I just don't see the advantage of... you know what that's a little deeper than I want to go.  I think the most I could do is to cross dress.  I could at least feel feminine and show myself as being feminine.  I've worn panties before and it was a sexual thrill, but that was back when all I was looking for was a sexual thrill.  Now... now I think I'd just like to have panties on to help myself feel that little tiny bit of femininty.  They don't need to be sexy, thongs, lacy, and pink.  Hell, they could be rayon big butted granny panties.  The physical fact is they'd feel different and spike my mind to remember I'm being more feminine.  

Take that thought out as far as it can go, and it would be me dressing up as a woman.  That's as feminine as I could physically be.  Hence the beginning of this story.  The end is pure fantasy fluff... but feel good fantasy fluff.  A big part of that fantasy fluff is finding someone to love and someone that would love me back, but the being transformed into a woman would be just... just wow.  

Now, I intended this to be a cap.  I thought the image was plenty big enough to put a lot of text in and have it be legible.  It would even be pretty easy with a light text box that wouldn't obscure the girls' bodies but still differentiate the background from the overlaying text.  But then I wrote.  And wrote.  And wrote.  I was having fun, so I didn't want to cut myself off and wrote some more.  And when I got to that last paragraph... well I was already happy with the story and didn't want to struggle to delete at least a third of it and likely a half of it to fit it into a cap form.  

I thought about making it a two panel cap.  I could use the image below of them kissing by adding a bit of that element into the story and then flipping between the 'begining' of the story and the 'end' of the story paragraph by paragraph.  Otherwise it just wouldn't make sense to have a picture of two women when the story wasn't even talking about that yet.  

What I obviously did was decide to just put it up as an obscura.  It's one of the reasons I made this format, so that I wouldn't have to edit down a story or flesh one out.  I could just write, and show the visual inspiration behind the story and be done with it.  

Anyway, I'm really happy with this.  It feels just right.  If the past is a indication of the future, this will likely fall flat for most people.  But right now, I just don't care.  This is me making myself happy.  I hope at least some of you feel the same!