CHAPTER 1
I was just exploring the area near the river in the city which was to be my new home. I had seen a blue plaque on several old buildings, but one surprised me. It was a proper Civic Trust one. The reason the building was notable was that “Since 1953 it has provided a safe venue for the Lesbian, Gay and Trans Community”. Another plaque on a different building was a newer one which had the rainbow colours around it and said that this was the location of a popular LGBT club, and that the area I was in was “the city’s main destination for the LGBT+ community and its allies”. Not that I was part of that community, but it explained the other rainbow colours and some of the names of businesses. There clubs with signs and decorations suggesting that sort of clientele, and a sex shop (which I hurried past).
But walking on, I was amazed to see a shop selling dresses for men! I had to look again. It was a typical little dress shop, but the sign was clear. Serving that special community, of course. There were very few people about, so I went in.
For god knows how long I had had the idea of putting on a dress. I don’t know why. It just seemed that it would be really nice, but I had never had the courage to do more than think about it. I was a single man with a respectable job at a bank, and had moved here as part of a promotion. I wore a suit to work, but each day I slightly envied the female staff.
How many times I had thought about buying something online, but had never been able to take the step? I had looked into little shops like this, pausing for no more than a moment, before moving on as if it had been nothing to me. Now I took that step through the door.
It took my breath away. The shop was small, of course, city centre rents being what they are. It looked just like any dress shop. All the lovely things hanging invitingly on racks. But for men!
The middle-aged woman inside looked so smart. Was she actually a man? They say some transgender people are so good that you can’t tell. But she smiled in such a friendly way, I managed to take the next step.
“I’ve never actually bought a dress before,” I said, hesitantly. “Could you give me some advice?”
“Of course, I’d be glad to. What are you looking for?”
“I’m not sure how to start,” I said.
“Well the first thing is the size. We need to know the range.”
“I’m not exactly sure how dress sizes go.”
“It’s the hip size mainly, then the bust. Do you know what they are?”
I smiled weakly.
“No. Could you measure me? I suppose you do that.”
She looked puzzled then brightened.
“Oh, it’s for you? No problem. Your first dress. Of course, it must be a bit of trial for you. I’ll see what we can do.”
She measured me.
“What sort of thing are you looking for? Something for a party or a nightclub, or something really special for the parade?”
I didn’t know what she meant about the parade, but was too nervous to ask.
“J-just something nice for everyday use. Like you might wear on the street or at work. Not too bright or too short.”
I was beginning to sweat.
“Just in private,” I said, my throat catching.
“Don’t panic,” she said kindly. “Look, go and sit down in the changing room there. If you like, you can close the curtain. I’ll get you a glass of water and see what we’ve got.”
She was obviously used to this sort of thing. I guess most would be nervous the first time. How many men must there be for it to be worthwhile having a shop? It was comforting to think that I was not alone. There must be thousands. I was not as weird as I thought!
I sat on the bench, as she got me a glass of water. I closed the curtain as two customers came in. It looked like a mother and daughter. Her son, I thought. Or maybe the father and daughter. They spent quite a while but did not buy anything.
The shopkeeper returned with two dresses. A smart green one with a pleated skirt and one with a small floral design as a wrap-around.
In the cubicle I put on the green dress.
And all the cares of the world went away. I was no longer nervous. This was what I had been wanting for years, decades even.
“Come on out and show me,” came a voice from the other side of the curtain. “There’s no-one around.”
I stepped out.
She looked surprised then gave a big smile.
“It’s great. I’m not saying this just to get you to buy it. In fact, you look great, and you look so happy!”
I walked around and looked in the mirrors to see myself front and back. No figure, of course, but it was me in a smart dress, and it felt wonderful!
I changed into the other. That was also so nice, I knew I was going to have it. Not as wonderful as the green one, but that was probably just because it had been first. I knew I was going to have other dresses in future, but my very first would always be special. I changed back into the green one.
She fussed around, adjusting it and looking closely.
“Now,” she said. “Do you wear a bra at all? All because the dalaman escort green dress really needs one, but not too big a cup size.”
“No,” I said, feeling strangely ashamed. I had never thought about bras, only dresses, but of course it was obvious. The front was lacking something. I needed a bra. Not wanted. Needed.
I said I would buy the dresses and what should I do about getting a bra?
She told me there was a shop nearby called Lucy’s Lingerie, and she would phone them to say I was coming.
I took my shopping to Lucy’s. It was Lucy herself who took me into the back room. She was very stylish, but in a motherly sort of way, and that was how she dealt with me. She measured me up, and then got me to put on the green dress. She came back with a couple of bras, a fairly plain white one and a rather lacy green one.
I stood there meekly as these were adjusted for me. She filled the cups with some scrap gauze.
Yes, the dress looked perfect now!
“It’s a shame to just have Y-fronts with such a pretty bra,” she said enticingly, showing me some lacy knickers. They were not tiny thongs like some on display, but (as she put it) “more generous, but still pretty”.
I also accepted some self-supporting stockings in black and flesh coloured to disguise my hairy legs.
I had never thought about the details, but it would be nice to have the pretty underwear, even if it did not show.
Back in my man clothes, I went home, I suppose feeling a bit shocked at what had happened, what I had done.
CHAPTER 2
In my flat I hung the dresses on the front of the wardrobe and went fairly automatically through my evening routine. Having had dinner and dealt with the dishes, I had a shower, shaved and watched some TV.
I watched TV.
Yes, but I watched TV wearing a dress with pretty underwear!
The next evening, I wore the other dress. I just relaxed.
God, it was so simple and so satisfying!
I went back to Lucy and bought some more panties. She also gave me advice about washing. I guess as a friend of the other shop she was used to nervous men starting out.
I could not say what I got out of it, but it was nice, I went back to Lucy and bought a couple of nightdresses.
Walking around town I was now looking in windows, and walked through the ladies’ section of a big store. There was so much that attracted me! But I decided that it would be safer to stick to shops that catered for the LGBT community. I began to wonder how many of the women on the street had started out as men, and started guessing.
One who was obviously not a man was a young woman called Susan serving in an electrical store. She was very striking with a short skirt and blue hair, and I noticed an odd tattoo on her neck. I eventually found it was a symbol meaning transgender, so maybe you couldn’t tell. But then, what did it matter if you did?
At work the manager said he was reminding us of the pride event coming up, and as the bank was sponsoring it, he hoped many of us would attend. There would be events for all the family.
I asked Tony, one of the men I was quite friendly with.
“It started out as Gay Pride,” he said, “but now it’s just Pride. Supposed to celebrate all aspects of gender identity. There used to be some bother, but not anymore. The big thing is a parade where there will be some guys in drag and some lesbians dressed butch, but really all sorts of people, some in costumes, some with placards. There’s food and drink and all sorts of things going on — music, clowns and so on. Lots of straight people enjoy it, and the city’s quite proud of it.”
He went to his desk, and got out a leaflet.
“I’m actually gay, in case you didn’t know. I’ll be in the parade with my boyfriend.”
I saw some photographs and the more I thought about it, the more I fancied going out in a dress. Just on that one day. It wouldn’t mean anything, and very few people knew me.
With a week to go I went back to the dress shop, the only place where I thought I could get advice.
I waited until there were no other customers, and explained that I liked wearing the dresses, and wanted to go in the parade, but was nervous.
“That’s understandable,” she said kindly, “being your first time. But everyone’s very nice. Why don’t you come back today at closing time? Bring your clothes and I’ll put on makeup, so you can see how you feel about it. Then on the big day, you can change here in the morning and I’ll make you pretty again. Then we can go to the parade together.”
I could hardly speak, both with the thought of it, and her kindness.
“That’d be wonderful,” I said. “And I don’t even know your name. I’m David.”
“I’m Carmen,” she said. “Pleased to meet you, David.”
“Like the opera,” I said.
“Yes, and the name of the shop,” she replied. I must have looked puzzled.
“Carmen’s dresses.”
I had a horrible thought.
“But the sign…”
“Sorry, it’s broken. We’re getting a new one tomorrow.”
She darıca escort looked surprised, then was trying not to laugh.
“Did you really think I was just selling dresses for men? No wonder you acted that way!”
We both said nothing and just looked at each other. I spent the time going red, and she stopped smiling and looked concerned.
“I’m sorry,” I said, a bit choked. “I’ve made a stupid mistake. Thank you for everything, but I’d better go now.” And I turned away.
“Wait a minute, love. It’s all right. We can still do exactly what I said. I live over the shop, so come here when I close up at half five, bring your dress and underwear. If you don’t mind mince and pasta, you can have dinner with me, and I’d like the company.”
I hesitated.
“Well…”
“Oh, go on! I won’t bite. Just try it.”
“Please do,” she added as I left. I hadn’t even said goodbye.
Back in my flat I cried and was angry with myself how stupid I had been.
When I was exhausted from this, I saw the green dress. I had to put it on.
So I did, and felt a bit better. I would go back later. No commitments. But she said she would like the company and it would be rude to refuse.
I had a cup of tea, then took off the dress and had a thorough shave. I thought of my armpits and shaved them, which was not so easy with the electric shaver. As I was in the mood, I ran it over my legs. Then I had a good long shower, doing my hair twice. The deodorant stung, of course.
Just after five I walked back with my clothes in a bag, slightly surprised at myself. At the shop she closed the shutters and locked up, then took me to her flat, where we went into the bedroom and sniffed.
“Nice deodorant,” she said. “For a man. But we’ll have to get you something different.”
“Now I’ll leave you to get dressed. Tell me when you’re ready.”
I came out nervously in the green dress, and she looked me up and down carefully.
“Let me do something about your hair first.” I sat down and she combed and brushed it. Then she applied some makeup which took longer than I expected.
“Go and look at yourself in the mirror.”
Well, it was a lot better than I expected. I was still me. No beauty, but smart and presentable. In a nice dress.
“Right, you seem to like that. Now we don’t want to risk getting mince on your lovely dress, so change into this one. It should fit and it’s easily washable.”
She gave me another dress, sort of dappled blue and white without the pleats, so my male bits showed a little. But it was still nice, and there was no-one else to see.
It did not take long to make the pasta, of course, and she had mince all ready with tomatoes and pearl barley to microwave, so we ate and chatted. Nothing really remarkable, apart from the fact that I was a man in a dress. But she said as there was a substantial LGBT community, especially in the evenings, she was used to all sorts. We both agreed it had been better than watching TV alone.
We had just had coffee at about nine o’clock when she stood up.
“Well, I guess you should be going soon, but I’d love to see you again.”
“Me too,” I answered. “Thanks for a lovely evening and for everything. I’ll just clean up, and change.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Would you mind if I called you Miranda, as a female friend?”
“It’s a nice name,” I replied. “I hadn’t thought about a name, but that sounds good. Any particular reason?”
“Oh yes,” she laughed. “There was a beautiful but funny film star called Carmen Miranda. I always fancied having a friend called Miranda. My father really liked her, and I may have been named after her.”
“However, I’ve got a better idea. You said you don’t live far away. Why don’t you walk home as Miranda? I’ll be with you to protect you, though there’s unlikely to be trouble in this area.”
I was frightened, but also excited by the idea, and eventually agreed. I was actually walking along the street as a woman!
In the green dress, with a shawl from Carmen, I was escorted to my flat through the evening streets carrying my male identity in a bag. There were people around, but no-one took any particular notice of us.
She gave me a peck on the cheek at the door.
“Well done, Miranda. You’ll be great at the parade. Remember I’ll be with you!”
CHAPTER 3
On the morning of the parade, I was up early, and used the toilet many times, being so nervous. I was shaved and washed, and had my bag of femininity which I took to the shop. We started with my nails, then my makeup, which was quite soothing. I was sprayed with a feminine deodorant and supplied with a wig which Carmen said she had borrowed, but I suspect had been bought. I had bought new trainers as recommended. And the dress, of course. The wonderful green dress!
As I had shaved my legs, she said I did not need stockings, and it would be better later when we were walking.
“You look a picture, Miranda,” she said, and I did not deny datça escort it. “You won’t need a handbag. I’ll have everything we might need. Wear this green cardigan for now as we have a walk around. It should be warm enough to go without it when the parade starts.”
I took a big breath, and put one foot over the threshold. Then another and I was standing on the street in broad daylight.
“You could have a beard today and still be all right!” she said encouragingly. “Nice trainers, by the way.”
She drew my attention to the cardboard sign with rainbow colours and the words “Dresses for Men Too!”
“I thought why not?” she explained with a smile. “The signwriter did a quick job. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it when you came in.” I should have, but was only thinking of myself.
We walked up to the main square, past lots of rainbow signs and bunting, and all sorts of people, mostly ordinary folks, but some with more dramatic clothes. There were some food sellers and other stalls, face-painting and a show beginning on a temporary stage. There were also cheerful police officers, often being included in selfies. It grew busier as the day went on. We bought hot dogs and a drink, then walked back to her flat to use the toilet and freshen up.
I hadn’t realised it, but Carmen was going to change. She suggested I went down and browsed in the shop while she did so, as it would take some time. It did, but I was happy enough looking through all the lovely clothes and holding them up against me to look in the mirror.
It was a pleasant surprise when she came down in red and black Spanish style dress, with a red rose (fake) in her black hair and bright red lipstick.
“If I love you, you’d best beware!” she said in a sing-song voice, which I guessed must come from the opera.
“You look stunning!” I said, honestly.
“You’re pretty good yourself,” she replied with a big smile. “Now let’s just make a few tweaks.”
She fixed my makeup and adjusted my wig to her satisfaction, and we looked at ourselves in the mirror. Obviously, people would be looking at her, which was good, but I really wasn’t bad.
“Now, la bella Miranda,” she said, putting on a Spanish accent. “Let us go and dazzle ze hombres wiz our beauty! It is ze day to be proud in ze parade!” (It turns out la bella is Italian. And Carmen Miranda was Brazilian where they speak Portuguese.)
But something happened.
The pleated skirt did not show my male bulge usually, but now it was rising with a big stiff cock underneath it.
“Oh, Miranda!” she said. “Is zat a banana or are you pleased to see me?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It hasn’t happened all week.”
It was true. With my dresses I had not thought of sex at all. It had just been so calm and relaxing.
“Per’aps zat is why,” she responded, raising an eyebrow.
“You’d better go and take care of it upstairs,” she continued in a normal voice. “There’s probably a limit to how much pride you can show.”
She followed me upstairs, but as I turned towards the toilet, she steered me into the bedroom.
“What the hell?” she said. “I’ll deal with it.”
Lifting her skirts, she went on her knees and lifted my skirt. I was too stunned to say or do anything as she pulled my panties aside, and suddenly my cock was in her mouth.
“You don’t have to…” I said weakly, but was unable to resist as she enthusiastically sucked and wanked me all the way, and I exploded with so much that she had trouble containing it!
Carefully she milked the last drops and drew her mouth away.
“You certainly needed that!” she said. “Now hold your skirt while I get you a tissue.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s dealt with,” she said. “Don’t mention it. Now let’s get back to being ladies again.”
There was a short break while she rinsed her mouth and I washed my genitals.
“I suppose that makes me a proud lesbian!” she joked as she opened the door.
Then we were back outside where people were already getting in position on the pavements to watch the parade and others, like us, were hurrying to the square to join it. The road had now been cleared of traffic and the friendly police were chatting while looking around for anyone in trouble.
The square was already full. We joined the tail end of a massive crowd, but many more followed us. I did not know what to expect, but it was not a carnival with vehicle floats, just a lot of people. I saw some kind of digger or tractor in rainbow colours and an open top bus but no other vehicles.
Men and women were in casual clothes suited to the weather. Many had rainbow colours on their faces or T-shirts. Some were in organised groups with banners for lesbians or gays or trans or the universities or the NHS. There was a very impressive group of muscled men in just shorts. There were plenty of men dressed as women. Some very glamorous, some outrageously drag, some humorous. And there were some exquisite women in figure hugging outfits. Were they lesbian, or trans? Who cares? They were lovely women and glad to be.
By comparison, I felt delightfully ordinary. Really nothing to worry about! In fact, I began to notice men in dresses and makeup who could not possibly be mistaken for women, but who looked happy to be out in both senses. I was not that unusual.