I Missed Myself

“Maybe you won’t. Why don’t we find out? I brought some things with me, in case you’d like to try. Just for fun. What do you say?”

How could I say no? After a week going stir crazy in my apartment, a beautiful girl wanted to dress me up in her clothes. Okay, so she used to be a guy. What did I have to lose? “If you want to,” I said with a shrug.

With that, she stood up and opened her suitcase on the sofa. She pulled out a dress and held it up to me. “Just as I thought, we’re the same size. This is going to look cute on you.” Before I could respond, she started digging through the suitcase until she found a pair of low heeled pumps. “The moment of truth,” she said. “Try these on.” I steadied myself on her shoulder as I tried to jam my foot into one of her shoes, but it wouldn’t quite fit. “Sit down,” she ordered, and as I fell back into my chair, she produced a knee high stocking and rolled it part way up my leg. “Try it again,” she said, and this time, my foot slid into her shoe without difficulty. “Success,” she said. Eyeing the hair which was matted under the stocking, she ordered me into the bathroom with instructions to shave off everything below my neck.

In a daze, I did as I was told. As I sat in the tub shaving my legs, I tried to get a grip on what was happening to me. Becoming a eunuch had been devastating enough. Could I cope with becoming a woman? I never wanted this, I told myself, but I never wanted to lose my balls either. Was Angela right? There was something about her, an inner strength and self-confidence, which had been missing in me since my operation. Up until my last night as a man, I used to be a take charge guy. Now I was drifting, and even contemplating suicide in my darkest moments. Something about her made me want to live again.