MY FEMINIZATION DIARY - feminization of myself

more feminization stories and a new design

FORCED FEMINIZATION STORIES a whole new set and more are to be come. And I've also changed the design. Aah, and don't forget to subscribe, if you love it ;)

FRIENDLY FEMINIZATION STORY – HER FIRST DATE… OR, DREAMS COME TRUE

Philip picked up the envelope, which had just dropped through the letterbox of the front door and, recognising the postmark, with trembling fingers of anticipation he quickly opened it. Eagerly he scanned the letter in his hands, the first line of which began "Dearest Philippa, I was delighted to receive your last letter and agree that it is high time that we should meet." As he read on, his excitement rose, impatiently flicking over the pages until with a pleased smile he reached the end, with its usual flourished signature.

Mounting the stairs with the sheaf of pages in one hand and the torn envelope in the other he started to read the letter again, just to make sure that he had understood correctly. He looked up as he entered his bedroom, and placing the letter on the bedside table, he walked to the wardrobe and opened it with a slight frown furrowing his brow. The date and time was now decided for the occasion, which he had dreamed of for a long time. All he had to do now was to possess himself in patience until the great day, and in the meantime, there was the age old question to be answered – what was a girl to wear?

Over the years he had gradually acquired quite a collection of dresses and skirts, all of which had been carefully selected to fulfil the single purpose of making him appear more feminine. He wanted to choose the most appropriate for this occasion and slowly he sorted through his collection, selecting one after another, holding them up on the hanger, regarding them, pensively and occasionally turning to look in the wall mirror with the selected item held again him. Obviously, he thought, I want to look my best, and feel my best, when I arrive, but there’s the journey to think of, so I don't want to be restricted to anything impractical. He replaced the last dress, deciding that the thing must not be rushed, and turned to the chest of drawers next to the mirror.

At least there wasn’t much doubt about which outfit of undies he would select. He reached into the drawer and picked up the neatly folded garments. No, he grinned, these beauties would definitely suite the purpose, and he savoured the silky feel of the layers of material in his hands and carefully placed them back to await the due day. The next few days seem to pass so slowly for Phillip, and despite his energetic efforts to concentrate on his work, the hours after he returned to the empty house were a constant temptation and on several occasions he came close to giving in to his wants. But he restrained himself, and concentrated on making preparations to save time on the day.

He went to the barbers for a trim and afterwards he lovingly groomed his wig, brushing and combing it to shining perfection on its stand. He washed again and ironed his treasured underthings, and he bought a new pair of stockings from the old fashioned shop in the town. He carefully cleaned his eyelashes, removing the last traces of clogged mascara and glue, and re-painted his nails with a deep red gloss, placing them aside in their box to dry. He picked thoughtfully through his jewellery box to collect the ensemble he would wear with the selected outfit, and finally polished his black shoes and handbag. The only question still to be decided was how he should travel.

The car was the obvious answer, and that was obviously why the little map had been included with the letter. But it dawned on him with only one day to go that Philippa hadn’t actually driven before. Her high heels wouldn't be suitable for the pedals but he decided plenty of girls get over that problem by driving in their stocking feet, and that's what he'd do. It was a good job he'd bought a new pair of stockings. He’d keep them as a spare pair, and he packed them with his night-things and toilet bag in his suitcase.

As he would be travelling on Friday evening, Thursday night was his last night in his own bed and although he left it till quite late before going up, sleep would not come. He felt his heart beating with the anticipation of the exciting events, which would be coming tomorrow and going over in his mind the final preparations he would be making when the workday was over, when he would be preparing Philippa for her most important meeting. And although his old friend was asking to play he determinedly ignored the invitation and turned on his side and finally slept. He hardly remembered the details of the following day, as he threw himself wholeheartedly into the daily rituals and forced himself not to look at his watch as the hours flew by, until it was time at last to hurry back home to the carefully planned metamorphosis.

Taking the stairs two at a time he quickly started the bath running and tipped in a generous measure of perfumed oil. In the bedroom, he rapidly took off all his clothes, putting them away. For the last time until they would be needed again on Monday. It seemed an age away. Settling back in the warm oily water, he savoured its sensuous feel and began to thoroughly shave every inch of his body, with the exception of the bush around his crotch, which he carefully trimmed with a pair of nail scissors when he was dry. As he shaved for the second time that day he remembered the many times in the past he had considered complete depilation, but the thought of possible comments when he appeared at the Tennis Club had inhibited him. No time now for inhibition, he thought as he applied underarm deodorant, this was the time for the final commitment.

And now for the dressing Philippa. His blonde hair was first put in place and adjusted with a comb to fall delicately, with just the right amount of undercurl. Then the make-up base gently applied to chin and neck to give a slightly more girlish palor to his skin. A little blusher to highlight the cheekbones and pencil to the eyebrows accentuated their natural curve and colour. Then the tricky application of the eyelashes using the make-up mirror on its angled stem, and just sufficient gum so that no excess would show. Liner to the eyelids and just a touch of blue shadow completed the treatment. Finally he applied lipstick, the colour matching his nail varnish, contorting his lips so that the line was easier to follow and after blotting off the excess on a tissue. Philippa blinked experimentally in the mirror. With a satisfied smile he turned to the nether matters.


He opened the top drawer of the chest and took out the wine coloured lingerie he always saved for special occasions. Previously Philip had been the only one to see Philippa in all her glory, but this time it would be different. The lacy suspender belt fastened easily and the suspenders trembled against his thighs as he bent to put on the matching french knickers and smoothed the elastic evenly around his waist. He noticed how beautifully smooth his skin felt, especially his arms and legs, which were now completely hairless. The brassiere was quickly put on and filled and he finally adjusted its position and stepped into the frilly edged waist slip, which completed the set. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently removed the smoke grey stockings from their packing.

He ravelled one up and placing the toe and heel carefully so that the seam ran nicely; he drew the sheerness over his leg. Taking the next, he slid it experimentally against the first. Feeling the slight resistance, he quickly turned the nylon inside out and repeated his test. The two now slipped silkily together and he drew that one on too. Standing up, he adjusted the tops before clipping the suspenders in place and tightening them so that he could feel the tension around his waist and testing them with a smacking flick against his thigh. Sitting again, he put on the peep toe sandals and then, standing up, he walked over to the mirror feeling his legs touching together deliciously as he did. Over his shoulder in the mirror, he lifted the slip and judged the straightness of the finished effect. They were fine.

He moved to the wardrobe and gently removed his dress. It was made from a fine, clinging material, with a flared skirt, with a gold paisley pattern on a very dark brown background, with three quarter sleeves and a small collar. He stepped into it, and tucking the petticoat in, drew it up and over his shoulders and buttoned the front, fumbling only slightly with the buttons fastening on the opposite side to Philip's. Standing in front of the mirror he put on the pearl strand necklace and matching earrings, adjusted the collar of the dress and tightened the belt for a little curvier hip, then crossed to the dressing table stool to put on his nails. They were now beautifully hard and pristine, and again using only the right amount of adhesive, he forced himself to wait for them to dry, with fingers spread. In the mirror, he gave himself a critical look, and satisfied, a confidant wink. The show had begun.

After giving his new nails a few tentative taps on the polished surface of the dressing table, to make sure that they were firmly in place, he slipped on his rings, one on each fourth finger, and the enamelled bangle and watch at each wrist. He crossed again to the wardrobe, pausing for a reassuring glace in the mirror, and smoothed his dress down, running his hands over his thighs, enjoying the press of the soft materials against his flesh and feeling the fascinating knobs of the suspenders and straps straining tautly beneath his palms. He loosely knotted a silk scarf at his throat, and put on his fur coat, the silky lining feeling slightly cold against his bare arms. Wrapping it over his front, he stooped and picked up his suitcase and handbag and headed carefully on his high heels, downstairs. At the front door he took out the car ignition keys, inhale deeply, and softly opened the door. Philippa was ready to face the world.

Dusk was falling as he headed confidently down the path, through the gate, and around the car to the drivers door. The central lock clicked and he put the suitcase on the back seat, and tossed his handbag across on to the passenger seat. After a quick look along the road to see if anyone was approaching, he slipped as elegantly as he could behind the steering wheel, but his coat and dress rucked into an awkward bunch beneath him. Quickly he reached down and took off his shoes, putting them on the seat beside him. He braced his feet and raised himself off the seat to straighten his clothing and to pull down his dress to cover his knees. He closed the door with a slam, and placing his feet on the pedals, turned the ignition key starter. The ridges on the rubber cover of the clutch pedal felt strange under his nylon-covered foot, and the shiny smooth accelerator felt cold to his touch. He switched on the lights, engaged the gear and started away on his journey.

Once he was moving, the normal routine of driving presented no problems, but stopping at the traffic lights to turn into the main road, he was grateful for the darkness. He noticed, with a thrill the different appearance of his hands on the steering wheel as he adjusted his grip; so as not to damage his fingernails with their extra length. He also enjoyed the feel of the tops of his stockings as they softly touched between his thighs and when he started the heater, he immediately noticed the warm air blowing against his legs, below the dashboard. It was all delightfully exciting and strangely familiar. He 'd memorised the route to his destination with little problem, but he was concerned that he would be able to find the road and the house he was looking for without getting lost and having to ask the way. But he needn’t have worried and it all turned out simply, as the map had indicated, and in a surprisingly short time he saw the number on the gatepost and the gates standing invitingly open for him to turn straight off the road and into the short drive. It was a bit of a struggle to put on his shoes again, with the steering wheel in the way, but he managed and taking his handbag he got out of the car holding his coat closed against the evening chill, now more noticeable on his bare feeling legs. He collected his suitcase, locked the car and walked towards the lighted porch, thankful for the smooth tarmac of the path on which his heels made each step audible in an unaccustomed way. To his surprise, the door opened as he was reaching for the bell push, and he stifled a little gasp, his heart already bumping with anticipation and smiled a little uncertainly at the stranger before him.

The young man smiled broadly and reached forward to take his suitcase. "Hello Philippa", he said. "I’m Chris and I'm afraid that you've caught me out. I was late home from work and I've only just got here.” He stepped back and Philippa followed him over the doorstep, into the hall and swung round to meet him as he closed the door behind him. "Do come in" he said, walking past him and leading the way into a side room, "and let me take your coat". He stepped around and helped him off with it and as he went into the hall told him to sit down and make himself comfortable. As he settled himself in an easy chair facing the door, he watched as the young man returned and busied himself at a sideboard, and he heard the clink of ice in glasses. A drink would be fine, he thought, as he studied the slim back, this is not at all what I expected. Chris was smiling again as he brought over the drink. And as Philippa reached out his hand for the glass, he took it in his.

"I must apologise again for greeting you like this, I had it all planned out differently". As Philippa looked into his eyes he finally recognised that this was in fact the person with whom he had been corresponding for the last 18 months, and whose appearance was so markedly different from the photographs, which he has so avidly studied. Putting down his drink. Chris stepped back and Philippa realised that he was waiting for him to speak. At last he cleared his throat, and said huskily. "For one awful moment I thought, …” he stumbled, "that I'd made a dreadful mistake and … " "I'm sorry, yes" he interrupted, you're quite right. I should have made, certain that Christine was here to meet you". He took a quick sip from his glass and sat down facing him. “It won't take long for her to put in an appearance, I was just laying out her things. If you wait here for a while, I won't be many minutes and then we can settle down for a lovely evening together." He smiled reassuringly and added as he opened the door, "The loo is just across the hall if you want to powder your nose in the meantime". And Philippa heard his footsteps hurrying upstairs.

Now he and his return as and took in his surroundings. There were tasteful furnishings, not unlike his own place in some ways and he recognised some of the pictures on the walls, which had shown in some of the many photographs he had of Christine. He felt a faint pang in his loins as he recalled them and the excitement he had experienced from studying them so many times and the ice tinkled in his glass again as he realised that his hand was shaking with nervousness. He stood up and put down his drink and picked up his handbag. He stepped across the hall and bolting the door of the loo behind him looked at his reflection in the mirror. He did his hair, powdered his face, and now put a little perfume at each side of his neck. He touched up his lipstick, blotting once again with a piece of toilet paper, and as he lifted the flap to dispose of the tissue, he realised that he was in need, and that the pressure in his bladder was probably the cause of some of his unrest. After a moment, he turned, lifted the skirt of his dress, lowered his knickers and tucking himself carefully inside the rim of the seat sat down on it. As relief swept through him, he regarded the suspenders and stockings stretched tightly over his knees, and stroked then gently with his hand. When he was finished, he gently blotted the last glistening drop, before standing up and re-arranged his clothes. He lifted each foot in turn, and looking down over his shoulder, straightened his seams before opening the door to returning to the sitting room.

As he passed through the hall he noticed for the first time the appetising smell of food coming from the rear of the house, where he guessed the kitchen was. He picked up his glass and after taking another sip, walked slowly around the room, looking at the many ornaments and shelves of books. In one corner there was a hi-fi stack, with compact disc player, and among the neatly arranged cassettes and discs he noticed many of his own favourites. He selected one and fed it into the machine and soon the familiar strains filled the room. He adjusted the volume and then returned to his chair where he sat down and crossed his legs, once more enjoying the feeling as his nylon clad legs gently slipped together, and demurely pulled down the hem of his skirt. After a moment of listening to the music and sipping his drink, its warmth started to make itself felt and he thoughtfully placed his hand on his knee and gently adjusted the hem to expose just a little more of his legs. Why not, he thought with a little smile. He was just returning from changing the music, when he heard the sound of footsteps slowly descending the stairs, and he realised that the moment he had been dreaming of was about to come true. For a moment he was uncertain what to do, and he had just decided to sit down again when the door opened, and in walked the girl of his dreams. She looked stunning, and his eyes took in her beautiful figure, encased in a shimmering dark green full-length evening dress, with a wrap over bodice and the material falling in folds from the tightly nipped waist to where the toes of her shoes just peeped out below the hem.

Glancing back to her face, framed in her glistening gently waved auburn hair, he saw that Christine was smiling a little uncertainly, striking a little pose for his benefit, and instinctively. Philippa stepped towards her. Taking her hands in his he placed his cheek against hers, gently squeezing her cool fingers in re-assuring congratulation. "You were worth waiting for", he said, "and now I recognise you". They smiled at each other, gently disengaging and Christine took the glasses to refill them at the sideboard whilst Philippa settled once more into his chair. With a faint rustling accompanying her movements. Tina placed the drinks handily, and sitting down said, "What do you think of my new dress, Pippa? I hope it’s all right for me to call you that by the way. I feel that we've known each other for long enough, don't you? And you must call me Tina." "Of course, you're absolutely right, and the dress is super. Where did you get it?" "In a sale actually last year." she smiled. "It was a bargain, and just my size. I've been saving for it for a special occasion like this, and it feels marvellous. It's rather daring, don't you think?" And as she moved her leg to one side, the lower layers fell softly away to reveal an inviting glimpse of nylon clad knee and shapely calf. "Its beautiful". Pippa said, her eyes straying to the outline of Pippa's thigh, in the gentle folds of material below her waist, "and just the right colour. It really does suit you".

They continued to chat for a while, about the difficulties of buying their favourite clothes, and soon Tina said. "Come on, let's go and eat, I'm starving, are you?" Mmm" Pippa said and putting down their empty glasses, they both rose, and Chris led the way into the next room. The small table was set for two, with glasses and cutlery, and a gleaming candleholder as the centrepiece with three unlit golden yellow candles. "You sit there", Tina said, "and I'll just light these". She took a match and as she lit each small flame, Pippa noticed that Tina's hands were shaking, just a little. "You've gone to a lot of trouble", she said, "Its awfully nice of you". Tina smiled her thanks and murmured, "I thought it would help us to relax and get to know each other properly".

They sat down, Pippa remembering to carefully smooth her dress as she did so, and as they started on the prawn cocktail already set out, Tina exclaimed. "The wine, I nearly forgot!” She rose from the table and picked up a bottle in a cooler from a sideboard, and set it down on the table. She returned to the doorway and switched off the main light, leaving the room lit only by the candles burning steadily now between then. As she reached over to pour the wine into her glass, Pippa sensed the distinctive fragrance of Tina's perfume, and noticed her long glossy nails as she gripped the serviette wrapped bottle. The light dry white wine enhanced the taste of the fish, and they chatted about the food and cooking, finding to their pleasure that they had many interests in common, as well as that subject which, for some reason, they both felt was not appropriate for the present mood. Tina gathered the empty plates, and Pippa helped to carry them away, remarking on the bright modern kitchen and the array of gadgets along the many worktops.

They settled to the main course, taken straight from the microwave oven, which was a steaming dish of coq-au-vin, served with jacket potatoes and garden peas. More wine accompanied the tasty food, and gradually, an air of relaxed contentment affected them both and their laughter came more frequently and spontaneously. Just two good friends enjoying the simple pleasures of fine food, delightfully cooked, effortlessly served and complimented by the excellent wine. At some stage during the meal, Pippa stretching her legs under the table, felt them touching Tina's and she let them stay, with a new, warm sense of intimacy. The candles had almost burned down; when Tina pushed away her empty sweet dish and suggested that they should take their coffee in the lounge. Whilst Tina fetched the tray from the kitchen, Pippa went ahead and put on some more music. He purposefully selected a slow romantic album, which he thought would augment the relaxed mood, which had now developed and switched off the centre light, leaving only the flow from a table lamp near the fireplace.

Tina came in and stepping across the room, set down the tray on the low table in front of the settee, from where they would both be able to help themselves. After a brief pause, during which they both sipped their coffee and enjoyed the quiet strains of the music, Pippa put down her cup and saucer, and stretched out her hand to place it gently on Tina's arm. "That was a lovely meal, I feel just a little woozy from the wine and very relaxed and decadent. You certainly know how to treat a girl right!" And leaning over, so that their shoulders touched, Pippa turned up her head and made a soft pout with his lips. Tina responded immediately and lifting her arm she placed it around Pippa's shoulders and hugged him gently, putting her other hand on Pippa's thigh. Stroking it gently she said, "The feeling is definitely mutual. I can assure you!"