We thought you would like to hear how Johannes (my hubby) became my sister, Johanna, although I still call him by the name I knew him by, when I first met him four years ago In New York, Johnny, as this is accepted here as the shortened form for either name. By the way, Johnny is Danish, while I was born in Bristol, England. I was a schoolteacher in the States on an exchange basis, when I met Johnny at a lively fancy dress party.
I have always been something of a feminist, and I always got a kick out of seeing a female impersonator, whether professional or amateur, and I confess to having secretly taking a great delight in transforming boys into pretty girls in school theatricals (I was teaching in an all-boys school), so that when, dressed at the party as a man, I was introduced to an attractive girl, whom I was told was a man, I was thrilled to bits.
It was, of course, Johnny, and we hit it off well together from the first. He made a really pretty girl, and when he found that I openly admired him in skirts, he told me all about himself. He had been sent to America by his father to study and he was shortly returning home to Denmark. His friends had talked him into masquerading as a girl once or twice, and a sister of one of the friends had helped him achieve this end. He said he got quite a kick out of it, and finding me sympathetic, he blushingly said he quite liked the feel of being laced in and wearing soft silks and laces. This excited me no end, and I determined then and there that Johnny and I were going to get married.
Naturally I said nothing, but the fact remains he is now my hubby. Long before he left for Europe, we had become the closest of friends, though, if he sensed my interest, he never showed it. We corresponded regularly, and, on my return to England, it was not long before Johnny felt affinity towards me, and we were soon deeply in love.
Shortly after we were married, but not before I had told him, when he proposed to me, that I would only accept if he were prepared to become "Johanna" when ever I wanted him to. He laughed at this, but agreed – that was almost three years ago now, and, in our flat and frequently outside it, Johnny has become my "sister" nearly every evening, at weekends and even for prolonged spells during holidays.
Although Johnny is just my size and has very small hands and feet, he has a feminine wardrobe all of his own, though in many respects identical with my own. But I must say that, on our honeymoon, there was more than one occasion when Johannes became Johanna and Maria (that's me) became Mario, and what fun we got out of it.
Good as Johnny's transformation was, when he saw how keen I was to make it perfect, he agreed to every suggestion I made. First I gave him a course of progressive tight lacing and of vacuum cups, so that he now has a figure many a girl would love to have. His ears have been pierced and unwanted hair removed by electrolysis, while creams, etc. have worked wonders with his skin. Massaging removed any muscularity in his arms or legs, while walking with a short step and feminine swinging of the hips was induced by the use of higher and higher heels. I obtained two very expensive real-hair wigs for him, and these so suited him that he gained in confidence when he had one on.
Side by side with all this protracted treatment, he became thoroughly accustomed to his feminine attire. Each evening his routine on arriving home was a hot, scented bath, corseting, bosom treatment, etc. and then dressing in what ever I had laid out for him. Finally the making-up of his face and hands, the fixing on of the wig, the putting on of jewelry– and there was my sister for the evening. Johnny has said from the first how much he likes it, but I have to laugh sometimes when I catch him unawares, like a modern Narcissus, admiring in a mirror, reflecting a pretty girl in figure-fitting filmy undies, tautly-suspendered and gartered sheer nylons and pencil-heeled shoes. His wardrobe is extensive, and his taste in clothes is costly, but fortunately we are fairly well off and can afford to satisfy our whims.
He ha soften been out with me to a restaurant or theatre, but his most daring escapade was when he went, as a girl, to a stylish shop to buy a frock for himself, and tried it on there. I thrilled as I sat and watched the assistant helping him. She obviously admired this smart client, but I wonder what her reaction would have been, had she known that she was dressing a man and not a lady, as seemed obvious from the smiling face, lovely hair, dainty cami-knickers over prominent girlish curves, shapely legs in sheerest of nylons and tiny feet in chic high-heeled shoes.
There's no doubt about it that Johnny was enjoying being so daring, and, in the end, the girl, too, was quite content, when she received a handsome tip from her charming, husky-voiced customer.
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 ;)