I didn't know what category to put this in so I just put it here.

My Mom always wanted a daughter. She got me instead. So she decided to make me into a girl or at least as close to one as she could get. Since she couldn't have any more kids after me I was an only child so I was her last chance at having a daughter.

I was born in 1972. My Mom was 16 and married to a Navy pilot who was shot down over Vietnam when I was 2. I have no memory of him at all. My mom put all his stuff in trunks and put them in my closet and kept them there until I was old enough to appreciate them. Today I have a shrine of sorts with his last Navy portrait of him recently promoted to Lt.J.G. above his framed flag and all his medals including his two purple hearts and bronze star in a shadow box. He was a real hero who died saving American lives. But he wouldn't have liked me at all as he was a military man's man and the only feminine thing he liked was his wife, or so my uncle once told me.

Despite the category I chose to describe myself here, I am not a woman. I am not a female and don't consider myself to be. But they don't really have my category on this web site so that's as close to what I am as I could find.

What I am is an extremely feminine and voluntarily emasculated boy. I have NEVER qualified to be an actual man. I eagerly embraced everything my mother did to me. I loved every frilly dress and girly toy, the whole thing.

Now in 1972 most boys had long or longish hair, or at least they did in urban areas. So my having long hair didn't itself single me out as girly. It was everything combined. But by the time I was 12 in 1984 my blond mane was down to my knees with the lower third always permed into big soft feminine bouncy curls. I'd become an expert in doing my make-up having studied under my mom who graduated from beauty school after my Dad died. We had a three bedroom house so mom had one room set up like a salon on the second floor but since she didn't like stairs she kept the other second floor bedroom for herself and gave me the giant master suite on the third floor. Of course I loved it up there. She did the whole thing over in pink when we moved there and that included a princess canopy bed, pink and white furniture including a vanity and a curio cabinet with my grandmother's tea set. My bedroom was as girly as you could get.

While I had boys clothes, they were the girliest boys clothes she felt she could get away with dressing me in. She sent me to first grade wearing pink and white and lavender three piece leisure suits with bell bottom trousers and white patent leather platform shoes, a year or two out of date but at 6 I didn't know any better. I was the only boy in the first grade who routinely went to school with my waist length hair in a French braid or a pony tail held up with a pink ribbon. I also had a large collection of pierced earrings that I wore in both ears at a time when it was uncommon for teenage boys to wear even a single earring. I kept my fingernails a bit longer than most girls but not ridiculously long.

No doubt I was seen as a sissy from the start. Combine that with my effeminate mannerisms and being very soft spoken an I was very vulnerable to any bully I might encounter. Or I would have been had my mother not prepared me well for this. You see, before my father died he trained my mother, a tiny little woman of 4 feet 9 inches and 79 lbs, in marshal arts. He was a black belt in Karate before he went to officer school and he had also trained in other forms of self defense so he trained my mom as well. She was a very confident woman despite her size and she trained me. While I'm no expert I can handle myself. But I found out that I didn't have to handle myself if I did two things. First I made friends, mostly with girls and second I excelled in sports despite my otherwise girly persona.

In those days kindergarten was not required and so was not offered in our school system. My mom loved the idea of sending me to school as a little girl so she enrolled me in a private all girl's kindergarten two towns away of course as a girl. They had a uniform that consisted of a pink plaid kilt, white blouse, pink sweater, pink socks and either pink, white or black shoes. I got to wear my long hair in pigtails held up with pink ribbons and that's when mom got my ears pierced. It was a catholic kindergarten so Mom gave me a pink plastic crucifix to wear around my neck. I even had a pink Barbie pocket book and a pink Barbie back pack for my school supplies. She didn't tell anyone at the public elementary school that I had gone to kindergarten as she didn't want them to know I was known as a girl there.

So that summer between kindergarten and first grade she signed me up for pee wee little league. Everyone thought I was a girl. Girls were allowed to play in little league but not after the age of 12. When I told them I was a boy I got bullied, verbally at least, a lot. But then when we had our first game and I got a grand slam at my first at bat the bullying stopped, the teasing stopped and I was hoisted on shoulders after I won the game on my last at bat with my second home run breaking a 5-5 tie. I batted 530 that season and had the highest tag outs of any boy my age in the entire league so pretty much nobody cared that I my hair was permed to make the curls bounce or that I wore my pony tail in a pink ribbon or that I wore pink heart earrings or that I was more flamboyant than Rue Paul. I won games and that won respect.

It wasn't until I hit Junior high school in 7th grade and was thrown in with a lot of older kids who didn't know me and had to take a communal shower for the first time that the bullying returned despite having several classmates that knew me come to my defense. First day of school, 7th grade, 1985 I was dressed in pink ladies patent pumps with 4 inch heals, pink three piece silk men's suit with a pink tie and handkerchief and a pink dress shirt of a lighter shade with French cuffs that I wore pink sapphire cufflinks in. I also wore earrings with pink heart cut sapphires. I had my grandfather's gold pocket watch with a double Albert chain and a very elegant gold and pink sapphire fob. My knee length hair was in a French braid tied with a three inch wide pink silk satin ribbon tied into a large bow with tassels that came to my knees. I wore a pink patent leather lady's belt and I work a pink back pack with a rose print.

I actually didn't care if I was bullied a bit because I felt very confident. First period that first tuesday after labor day was boy's phys. ed. I was expecting to catch a lot of flack from the older boys and I did. Two older boys, upper classmen, one 16 and the other 17 grabbed me and told me that girls weren't allowed in the boys locker. I laughed and told them that I understood their confusion but assured them I was indeed a boy and invited them to watch me change into my gym uniform if they were in doubt. That pissed them off and the older one accused me of inferring that they might be gay and then accused me of being gay. I hadn't really thought that much about my sexuality up to that point as I hadn't even learned to jerk off and don't recall yet being horny for one gender or the other though I did generally prefer the company of women since they tended to be softer and more calm then boys were. The older one took a swing, I ducked and his fist slammed into a locker. I apologized for avoiding his punch resulting in his bruised knuckles and offered to kiss it and make it better. That only served to infuriate him more and he took a second swing and I ducked and he lost balance and fell over onto his face. So I reached down to offer to help him up and he called me a faggot and told me to get away from him. By this point half the gym class was cheering me on, the younger half that is, the half that was accustomed to being bullied by the older boys. So then his buddy grabbed me from behind and put my into a full Nelson which they thought would incapacitate me. It didn't. So going for one more try at punching me my bully pulled back and put all his might into punching me in the gut. I knew exactly what he was going to do so I did that my mother called the Houdini maneuver. I stiffened my already strong stomach muscles and smiled as his fist slammed into my gut. All he accomplished was making me fart. He was even more pissed that I maintained a smile throughout and he began pummeling me until the Phys ed teacher came around the corner and broke up the "fight."

I politely asked the teacher to forgo detention for the boys and that I was merely demonstrating Houdini's ability to take a punch to the gut without injury. I even let him have a go at it and he was stunned that despite being twice my size and having a decent punch, he didn't knock the wind out of me. That day I made friends with two former bullies and earned a lot of respect.

Oh and I didn't even tell you yet about what we actually did in gym class that day. As a junior marshal arts expert at 12 and being a brown belt on my way to black belt in karate and having had some hand to hand weapons training with my mother along with throwing spears, the use of bow and arrow and other medieval weaponry, I was a pretty fair archer. I even knew some trick shots so I was elated when on our first day of phys ed we had archery. I was handed a long bow and three arrows. The targets were moved to 5 yards. I was mildly irritated and so I went to my target and pulled it back to 20 yards which was the closest I attempted to hit a target since I was 9. I then knocked my bow, set my arrow with the rest of the class and shot it right up in the sky. I quickly shot the 2nd and 3rd arrows and hit the bull's eye one to the left of center and the other to the right of center before the first arrow landed in the ground between the 2nd and third arrows arrows. That was a trick shot my mother taught me. My phys ed teacher was not amused and scolded me for putting an arrow in the ground and taking a risk that the wind wouldn't change. It didn't . So second round I decided to just make a neat triangle of three arrows within the center half inch of the bull's eye at 25 yards and then repeated at 30 yards. My phys ed teacher couldn't even hit the target at 30 yards and none of the other boys including the seniors hit their targets at 15 yards. After that nobody even said a word about my pink satin bra and panties or the fact that I died my jock strap pink or that I called all the boys "Darling" and used the word "fabulous" way too much.

My 7th grade math teacher was a retired Marine drill instructor who then went on to college after twenty years in the Marines and got his degree in math and a teaching certificate. He was a generally nice if misunderstood man. Before he met me he hated and was disgusted by faggots and sissy's. He stood at the front of the class in his military style hair cut and barked out commands like a drill instructor on the first day of boot camp. He stayed just on the correct side of being abusive but I could tell he didn't like me from day one. That is until he figured he'd make an example out of me Marine style by having me attempt to solve a far more difficult equation than he had just taught us a moment before. What he didn't know is that I was pretty good at math and that in the sixth grade my math teacher, a very nice older woman who happened to think it would do all boys some good to spend a year or two living as girls, tutored me in 7th and 8th grade math and that I was actually ready for second year algebra not pre algebra but that school didn't believe in advanced placement for younger gifted students. So I easily solved the problem that he hadn't actually taught us how to and he did a double take and sent me back to my seat. I tried very hard not to smirk. He didn't like me but he respected me. Before the end of the year he liked me.

The only other teacher that didn't like the way I looked or acted was my history teacher who was also a retired marine having gone to France on D-Day and thought all men should be men. What he didn't know was that next to Art, History was my favorite subject and that I had already read dozens of college text books on the topic and it was nearly impossible to stump me. I read my 7th grade U.S. History text book in three days not finding a single thing I hadn't already read elsewhere and even penciled in a couple of dozen corrections where the text had factual mistakes. When I pointed them out to the history teacher he got pissed and told me that since I was such a smart ass faggot (yes teachers could say that in those days) I could write him a separate report on each of the "errors" and have them turned in by Halloween. I had them turned in by the end of September, typed and double spaced with source citations like my mother taught me to do. I used my new computer as a word processor and a daisy wheel printer to print up my reports. He looked dumb founded when I turned them in but wrote an A on every one and turned to me and said "Don't bother taking the mid term or final, I've already put you down as earning an A in this class and I wish I could advance you to freshman history but they have a rule against that so I am just going to let you spend the rest of the year at the library reading any topic in history you want as long as you tell me about what book you read and summarize what you learned so I know you actually are reading history." We ended up good friends and I also made good friends with the school librarian who let me access books usually reserved for faculty and upper class men.

So that was school life for me up to 7th grade and pretty much high school went the same way. I graduated 2nd in my class only because I was in a coma my last three months of 12 grade. I had been hit by a car in a cross walk and the guy took off. He was eventually caught and sent to prison and Mom sued him and won and got his house, car and enough for my college fund to pay for my B.A.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

When I was 12 I met my future wife. Now I bet up to this point you figured I was gay and was going to one day marry a man. Well I'm not gay, at least not by the strictest sense of the definition. I am in fact very bisexual. I absolutely adore girls and not long into the 7th grade year I discovered I didn't just like having female friends, I wanted to have sex with girls. I was very attracted to them, so much so I aspired to be even more girly than I started with. Now most girls don't like sissies. But Linda isn't like most girls. She too is bisexual but with strong lesbian leanings. She also likes her boys young and girly. So basically she doesn't care too much about gender as long as they look and act girly and are pretty and have long nice hair. I met all those qualifications. Oh and Linda was a senior. She is five years older than me. We were in Art class together. She thought I was a girl at first until I told her my name and even then at first she just thought I was a girl with a boy's name.

Linda is beautiful. She had long dark brown straight silky hair and dark brown eyes and sultry lips and the most amazing long black eye lashes that did not need mascara. Her lips were a dark shade of red and she wore matching nail polish. Acrylic nails really weren't a thing in those days, at least not that I knew of. We were assigned to work on an art project together and it was love at first sight for both of us. I felt a constant tingling in my nipples and groin every time I inhaled her intoxicating perfume or felt her silky hair brush my arms. We joined the art club together which was after school and then she began offering me a ride home from art club and next thing I knew she asked me out on a date. when I couldn't spit the word YES out fast enough she knew she had me. She told me to wear something pretty.

I told my mom about my date and that it was an older girl who had a car (immediately giving away that she was at least 4 years older than me) and that she told me to wear something pretty. She was unenthusiastic until I got to that last part then she perked up and made it a project. It was Thursday when Linda asked me out and that night Mom took me shopping for girl's clothes. I already had girl's clothes but mom wanted me to have something special to wear. So she got me a flowing pink dress with a plunging neckline a new pair of earrings, a new pair of pumps and some very slutty lingerie to wear under. Garter belt, crotchless panties and stockings with a seam up the back finished my look. She did my hair in a glamorous wave, my nails in sultry red a few shades lighter than Linda's and she did my make-up. I looked like a Playboy centerfold model without tits. She even got me a bottle of expensive perfume. Linda picked me up Friday at six and the look on her face was priceless I introduced her and my mom and she said I was the prettiest girl she had ever seen. Then she turned to my mom and asked "You don't mind your daughter dating an older lesbian do you?"

"Why should I mind, I AM an older lesbian."

Linda took me to dinner then to a dance club I was too young to legally get into but she knew the bouncer and didn't bother telling him that I was not a teenage girl but instead a 12 year old boy in drag. it was mostly retro 70's disco music a la studio 54, but I didn't mind because they also had a lot of slow dancing which I preferred. I was just barely tall enough, even in heals, to get my face between Linda's boobs.

After dancing she took me to a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture show but not until she switched my stockings for black fishnets and added black lip liner to my lips and some darker eye shadow. I didn't' understand why until I got there and found half the guys in drag. She bumped into one of her friends and introduced me as her friend Melissa and explained that I was trying to look like a drag queen but since I was a girl I was failing miserably. Her friend Jen had no idea that I wasn't actually a girl. So I was a boy pretending to be a girl who was pretending to be a boy pretending to be a girl.

That was our first date. Of course she took me home and taught me how to kiss on my front porch. Mom considerately shut off the porch light after the first minute. I think she ran off to bed to masturbate. Our kiss lingered for about an hour. That's when I learned what it was like to be a girl having her date reach up her skirt to feel her up and that is when Linda discovered I was wearing crotchless panties and that is when I learned that wearing crotchless panties is extremely convenient.

We finished up our kiss and I went inside desperately wanting to invite Linda up to my bedroom but I didn't want to push my luck.

Linda took my virginity on my second date or I should say at the end of our second date. We were doing our porch make-out thing when Mom opened the front door, told us we looked adorable and then said she was going to run a few errands and would be back the next afternoon. I had no idea what errands she could do at 2 a.m. but I didn't care. I invited Linda in and ten minutes later she gave me my first blow job followed by taking my virginity. We kept our dresses and lingerie and even our pumps on removing only our panties which we both wore outside the garter belts. Mom told me to do that and said I would find out why later. Mom is a friggin genius. Being made love to by a girl as a girl or at least as a sissy is incomparable. losing one's virginity that way is indescribably wonderful but then when Linda told me she was also a virgin and offered, just before I took the plunge, to show me her hymen I put my tongue in and licked it and then got on top and put my tiny little clit dick in her and fucked her for all I was worth. It seems that all I was doing was rubbing her down there not really fucking since my cock at the time was only two inches long but then to a 17 year old small extra tight virgin that was just as well. We both came and we both became lovers.

A year later she proposed to me offering me her mother's engagement ring. My mother was thrilled. When we told her that we were going to be a lesbian couple and were BOTH going to wear wedding gowns she was elated. Of course two girls could not legally marry in those days and I was only 13 when she proposed but we had a nice 3 year long engagement. Then shortly after my sweet 16 birthday we got married. Of course by then I was wearing strictly girl's clothes to school and I had developed breasts and no I didn't take hormones to grow them either. It seems that despite having a slender figure, I developed a severe case of gynacomastia. If you don't know what that is look it up. By 16 I had full C cup breasts, and required a bra. With all the nipple sucking that Linda was doing I was lactating on my wedding day to such an extent that I had to wear special nursing pads in my bra. I was so turned on from producing milk for Linda to drink. As it turns out I also had a second medical condition, microphalia. That one is relatively common. It means I have a tiny dick. On our wedding night my cock had only grown to three inches in length and was less than an inch thick.

My Mom bought me my wedding gown, it was a similar style to the one wore by Princess Diana, a a still popular style in 1988. She rented a crystal tiara and loaned me her diamonds to wear. Mom wore a tux and walked me down the aisle. Linda wore a mermaid style wedding gown and let her hair flow down to her knees. I had my hair up in a huge up do with only a narrow tail that came down to the floor so everyone could see how long my hair was. It had a tiny pink bow at the end. So what church would let two "lesbians" marry? Our Unitarian church did. They are very progressive and were the first church to offer commitment ceremonies to same sex couples back in the 1980's. They thought we were two girls at first. Those were the days when in that state even a M2F Transexual could not legally change their gender to female and had to carry an I.D. that specified male. But to everyone else we were a lesbian couple getting married.

We honeymooned in Provincetown. Google Provincetown to find out why.

So despite having only a three inch dick that never got bigger and naturally occurring c-cup tits that eventually grew to d-cup tits, it seems I was quite able to make a girl pregnant. I'd been fucking her since 12 but it seems my sperm didn't become viable until I was 17. We had three lovely kids. Two girls and a boy though that eventually became three girls.

Now as I said earlier I don't consider myself female. I am a fully emasculated sissy faggot. There is a difference. I can't get pregnant. I won't entertain arguments about the whole transgender thing. That is just my belief. If you want me to use female pronouns I will and if you want me to call you a girl if you have one x and one y I will. But I won't actually think of you as authentically female.

But as part of my extreme emasculation fetish that I had developed early on I eagerly agreed to have bottom surgery and go on hormones right after the youngest was born. It was Linda's idea but she knew despite my never saying it that I wanted to be fully emasculated. So she made the arrangements and I was castrated and got my vagina. They kept my dick head intact and used my foreskin to make a clitoral hood.

At that point no state had yet made same sex marriage legal so we had to get a divorce. You see Linda insisted that I legally become female. Then a few years later when Massachusetts made same sex marriage legal we got married all over again as two women. Of course Linda wears the pants in the family.

Oh I left out the part where Linda came up with the idea that I could not possibly be a true sissy faggot until I had gay sex so she fixed me up with a couple of cute boys to "spit roast" me. That was my birthday gift the second year we were married. She loves seeing gay men fuck me so it happens a few times a year. usually she surprises me by setting me up with a couple of her friends. For my thirtieth birthday she arranged for 12 men who all looked like Chippendale strippers gang banged me while she made a video of the whole thing.