An Internet Bride

Story
by:
Veronica
Eggert
slut_veronica2000@yahoo.com
©
Copyright
2009
An
Internet
Bride
The
convergence
of
real
life
and
fantasy
seldom
occurs
and
when
it
does
the
fantasy
never
seems
to
hold
up
to
the
bright
light
of
day.
Deep
down
I
understood
this
but
it
didn’t
stop
me
from
spending
hours
on
the
computer
fantasizing
about
being
transformed
into
someone’s
sissy
slut–forced
to
wear
fuck‐me
pumps,
skimpy
outfits
and
used
for
someone’s
sexual
pleasure.
My
real
life
was
much
different.
While
working
on
my
Masters
degree
in
computer
science,
I
met
my
wife
who
at
the
time
was
working
on
her
MBA.
We
started
off
on
the
treadmill
and
followed
the
path
that
our
friends
were
taking,
working
long
hours
and
believing
we
were
the
new
masters
of
the
universe.
As
time
marched
on,
and
we
got
into
our
thirties,
we
realized
that
life
was
comfortable
but
that
we
weren’t
likely
to
be
leaving
any
lasting
footprints
on
the
world.
We
were
doing
all
right
financially
but
clearly
not
breaking
any
records–we’d
be
working
for
the
rest
of
our
lives.
On
the
domestic
front
we
weren’t
setting
any
records
either,
we
had
settled
into
a
typical
routine
that
over
the
years
involved
less
and
less
sex.
The
only
bright
spot
in
this
middle
class
tedium
was
the
fact
that
early
on
in
my
relationship
with
my
wife
I
shared
with
her
my
cross‐dressing
fetish.
She
didn’t
understand
it,
but
was
extremely
tolerant
since
she
knew
it
turned
me
on.
This
allowed
me
the
freedom
to
build
up
a
wardrobe
and
on
occasion
spend
an
odd
day
en‐femme.
Since
she
was
tolerant
but
not
a
fan
of
my
dressing,
I
didn’t
flaunt
it
and
usually
saved
my
dressing
for
when
she
was
out
of
town.
However,
I
did
spend
a
lot
of
time
online,
reading
stories
and
fantasizing
about
my
hidden
desires.
Although
the
Internet
provided
me
a
great
outlet
to
explore
my
darker
desires,
it
also
magnified
them
by
exposing
me
to
new
twists
on
my
fantasies.
What
I
didn’t
realize
was
that
is
was
also
going
to
dramatically
change
my
life.
Life
plodded
on.
In
a
mixed
blessing
my
company
went
through
a
radical
restructuring
and
unlike
a
lot
of
my
friends
who
were
left
out
in
the
cold,
I
was
offered
a
part‐time
job
in
the
restructured
company.
The
job
didn’t
pay
as
well
but
I
would
be
allowed
to
work
from
home.
In
my
warped
mind
I
quickly
thought
of
how
great
it
would
be
to
work
from
home,
I’d
be
able
to
dress
during
the
day.
Then
reality
settled
in
and
I
realized
we’d
be
making
less
money
and
that
my
career
was
all
of
a
sudden
derailed.
My
wife
and
I
spent
a
lot
of
time
figuring
it
out
and
decided
we’d
be
okay.
I
began
working
from
home
but
refrained
from
dressing
because
it
seemed
like
an
extravagance
and
I
felt
guilty
partaking
on
personal
fun
when
my
professional
life
was
going
down
hill.
I
quickly
learned
working
from
home
actually
sucked.
The
only
interaction
I
had
was
with
my
dogs;
the
days
just
dragged
on.
Therefore,
it
wasn’t
too
long
into
my
at‐ home
career
that
I
gave
into
my
desires
and
began
to
dress
during
the
day.
But
the
dressing
didn’t
cut
through
my
lack
of
contact
with
the
outside
world,
so
I
started
entering
some
of
the
chat
rooms
on
the
sites
I
frequented.
In
the
past
I
had
usually
stayed
clear
of
the
chat
rooms
since
some
snobby
part
of
me
didn’t
really
want
to
interact
with
people
who
hung‐out
in
cyber
space.
It
was
a
cruel
irony
that
I
soon
found
myself
one
of
the
people
I
used
to
ridicule
in
my
mind.
Before
I
knew
it
I
was
frequently
video
chatting
with
strangers
enjoying
the
compliments
that
they
would
give
me
on
my
appearance.
I
started
hitting
it
off
with
one
person
in
particular.
He
was
very
aggressive
at
first
but
I
warmed
up
to
him
as
he
prodded
me
to
divulge
and
expand
upon
my
fantasies.
What
I
enjoyed
is
that
he’d
take
my
fantasies
and
put
his
own
spin
on
them
and
put
new
ideas
in
my
mind.
I
always
knew
I
liked
bondage
but
he
would
talk
about
tying
me
up
and
putting
a
plastic
bag
over
my
head
until
I
passed
out;
about
tattooing
me
with
his
initials
and
a
unicorn–his
symbol
for
his
slaves.
Before
my
foray
into
the
chat
rooms
none
of
these
things
would
have
turned
me
on,
but
day
after
day
of
talking
online
about
them
started
to
have
an
effect.
In
hindsight,
the
most
intriguing
change
was
my
willingness
to
entertain
being
with
a
man.
At
first
it
was
the
part
I
was
playing
online
to
keep
people
chatting,
but
soon
it
invaded
my
thoughts.
I
started
to
get
turned
on
by
the
idea
of
being
used
as
a
cum
slut;
forced
to
give
head
and
having
cocks
exploding
their
load
inside
of
me.
I
don’t
know
when
I
crossed
the
line
from
just
playing
the
role
to
actually
adding
it
to
my
list
of
desires
but
I
did
cross
that
line
and
I
knew
I
was
a
sissy
slut
at
heart.
Then
the
day
would
end,
I’d
change
back
into
drab
clothes,
my
wife
would
come
home
and
life
plodded
along.
One
day
online
my
new
friend
showed
me
a
white
leather
corset
he
bought
and
asked
me
for
my
address
so
he
could
send
it
to
me
because
he
wanted
to
see
me
in
it.
Now
even
though
I
was
getting
caught
up
in
my
fantasy
life,
I
wasn’t
dumb
enough
to
reveal
my
real
address.
I
tried
to
be
polite
and
decline
but
everyday
he’d
prod
me
a
little
bit
and
dangle
something
else
he’d
bought
for
me
to
wear.
I
finally
broke
down
and
got
a
PO
Box
at
the
UPS
store
under
my
alter
ego’s
name:
Veronica
Eggert.
I
passed
that
address
along
and
shortly
thereafter
received
a
very
nice
Axford’s
white
leather
corset,
a
leather
choker
and
white
leather
gloves
that
buttoned
around
my
wrist.
The
package
the
gifts
arrived
in
had
a
return
address
and
the
name
of
Steve
Kroeger
listed
as
the
sender.
I
was
excited
to
add
to
my
wardrobe
and
showed
it
off
with
pride.
I
was
also
intrigued
that
my
online
chat
partner
had
dared
to
provide
me
with
his
real
name
and
address.
I
of
course
Google
Mapped
his
house
and
did
a
few
web
inquires
on
his
name.
Other
than
living
on
a
relatively
nice
block
in
suburban
Wilmette,
near
Chicago,
I
didn’t
find
any
juicy
tidbits
online
and
stopped
my
search.
Things
continued
for
a
while
and
I
would
look
forward
to
my
online
chats
and
my
fantasy
of
being
transformed
into
Steve’s
sluty
plaything,
tied
up
in
his
house
for
his
amusement
and
pleasure.
We
joked
that
I
would
make
a
blushing
bride
for
him,
wearing
the
white
corset
under
a
slinky
white
dress,
with
heels
that
locked
around
my
ankles.
Every
month
or
so
he’d
send
me
something
to
my
box:
a
ring
gag,
a
latex
hood
a
pair
of
ballet
boots.
I
welcomed
the
gifts
and
had
fun
playing
online.
We’d
tell
each
other
elaborate
stories
on
how
he
would
transform
me
into
his
perfect
wife/slut;
that
he’d
make
me
get
breast
implants
and
when
I’d
go
in
for
the
surgery
he’d
have
the
doctor
add
permanent
eye
and
lip‐liner,
pierce
my
tongue,
etc.
He
talked
about
how
he
would
keep
me
bound
up
while
he
was
out
of
the
house
listening
to
hypnotic
tapes
to
make
me
more
docile
and
turn
me
into
a
cum
junky.
I
loved
the
break
from
reality
and
found
myself
constantly
fantasizing
about
the
scenarios
we
discussed
online.
Then
a
week
went
by
and
I
hadn’t
heard
from
Steve.
I
pinged
him
a
few
times
and
assumed
he
was
on
vacation.
Another
week
went
by
and
I
hadn’t
heard
anything
from
him
and
I
realized
that
it
had
been
like
a
drug
and
that
I
was
having
trouble
quitting
cold‐turkey.
A
few
more
weeks
went
by
and
I
felt
sad
to
have
lost
my
online
playmate.
I
tried
filling
the
gap
with
others
online
but
none
of
them
shared
the
same
intimacy.
Then
one
day
I
checked
my
mailbox
and
I
was
shocked
to
find
a
slip
indicating
I
had
a
letter
that
required
my
signature.
I
was
nervous,
I
hadn’t
given
them
my
real
name–if
they
asked
for
identification
I
wouldn’t
have
any.
But
the
guy
at
the
counter
didn’t
seem
to
care
and
I
scribbled
some
bumps
on
the
form
and
took
my
letter.
Dear
Sir
(a/k/a
Veronica
Eggert)
Our
law
firm
has
been
retained
by
the
estate
and
trust
of
Stephen
C.
Kroeger
to
dispose
of
certain
assets
and
sums
of
money.
We’ve
been
directed
to
inform
you
that
a
$150,000
has
been
allocated
for
you
upon
the
satisfaction
of
certain
conditions.
As
a
pre‐condition
to
receiving
the
allocated
funds,
the
trust
will
require
that
you
undertake
breast
augmentation
surgery
and
live
full
time
in
private
as
a
women.
It
is
the
desire
of
the
trust
that
this
be
viewed
as
a
gift
and
is
intended
to
be
an
opportunity
that
Mr.
Kroeger
wanted
to
afford
you.
The
cost
of
the
plastic
surgery,
and
any
other
procedures,
including
but
not
limited
to
laser
hair
removal,
liposuction,
etc,
will
be
paid
for
by
the
Trust
up
to
a
maximum
cost
of
$15,000.
Although
it
is
the
intent
of
this
gift
that
you
live
as
a
woman
in
private
it
is
not
a
requirement
of
the
gift
that
you
hold
yourself
out
to
the
public
or
friends
as
a
woman.
If
you
agree
to
these
terms
a
monitor
will
be
appointed
to
confirm
your
compliance
with
the
requirements
of
this
gift,
whose
sole
decision
regarding
substantial
compliance
will
be
binding.
The
monitor
will
have
the
right
to
set‐up
random
schedules
throughout
the
year
at
any
time
day
or
night
to
evaluate
and
confirm
compliance.
If
you
agree
to
accept
this
gift
the
following
schedule
shall
apply:
$6,250‐Upon
acceptance
$6,250‐Monthly
until
completion
of
the
term
$75,000‐At
the
completion
of
the
term
If
during
the
year
you
are
held
to
be
out
of
substantial
compliance
with
the
gift’s
terms,
the
remaining
unpaid
portions
of
the
gift
shall
be
forfeited
and
the
gift
shall
be
terminated.
You
will
not
be
required
to
pay
back
sums
received
prior
to
termination.
Upon
successful
completion
of
the
term,
additional
funds
may
be
may
be
made
available
in
the
form
of
additional
gifts.
We
respectfully
request
a
response
no
later
than
the
end
of
the
month
to
determine
if
you
would
like
to
proceed
and
to
arrange
the
appropriate
monitoring
of
compliance.
Regards,
(name
withheld)
Needless
to
say
the
letter
caught
me
off
guard
and
added
an
interesting
wrinkle
to
what
was
otherwise
a
normal
day.
After
an
initial
flood
of
fantasy
thinking
the
stark
reality
of
what
was
being
asked
jarred
me
out
of
my
daydream.
My
mind
continued
to
race
for
the
next
two
days
until
I
decided
I
had
to
talk
to
my
wife.
One
Hundred
and
Fifty
thousand
dollars
was
a
nice
chunk
of
money
but
could
I
actually
go
through
with
it,
and
what
would
my
wife
say?
Finally,
I
broke
down
and
talked
to
my
wife.
I
dramatically
watered
down
my
online
activities,
making
them
seem
trivial
and
showed
her
the
letter.
I
am
not
sure
she
bought
the
superficial
nature
of
my
online
activities
but
she
approached
the
letter
very
methodically
and
detached.
The
fact
that
to
the
outside
world
we
could
keep
this
hidden
made
her
lean
to
taking
the
money.
We
had
a
very
frank
conversation
about
my
fear
that
she
would
have
to
see
me
all
the
time
as
a
woman
and
as
a
result
she
would
somehow
begin
to
resent
me
or
feel
differently
about
me.
She
acknowledged
this
concern
and
we
agreed
that
if
we
went
forward
we
would
have
to
monitor
this
and
bail
out
if
it
became
a
problem.
As
a
result
of
our
conversation
we
decided
to
proceed–or
at
least
meet
with
the
attorneys
and
get
more
information
about
proceeding.
Three
days
later
we
were
sitting
in
very
intimidating
offices
in
downtown
Chicago
talking
about
me
getting
breast
implants
and
living
as
woman.
Needless
to
say
the
conversation
was
strange.
I
felt
detached
and
clinical
as
we
discussed
how
things
would
proceed.
The
firm
had
found
a
monitor
who
would
use
both
home
visits
and
a
web‐cam
to
ensure
my
compliance.
I
would
always
be
dressed
as
a
woman
at
home
(day
and
night)
except
on
those
occasions
when
we
entertained
guests.
They
indicated
that
the
goal
wasn’t
to
trip
me
up
but
to
ensure
I
was
always
in
substantial
compliance
with
Steve’s
wishes.
In
short
the
more
feminine
I
dressed
(make‐up,
heels,
jewelry,
etc.,)
the
easier
it
would
be
for
the
monitor
to
certify
compliance.
At
the
conclusion
of
the
meeting
my
wife
and
I
looked
at
each
other,
and
with
the
same
clinical
detachment
I
had
during
the
meeting,
we
agreed
to
the
terms.
We
signed
the
necessary
paper
work
and
walked
out
a
little
shell‐shocked.
The
rest
of
the
afternoon
was
just
as
strange.
Since
we
were
in
downtown
Chicago,
my
wife
and
I
decided
that
we
should
shop
for
my
new
wardrobe.
We
actually
had
a
fun
time
(almost
as
if
we
were
both
drunk)
picking
out
lingerie,
make‐up
and
other
accessories.
We
held
off
on
any
dresses
or
skirts
until
we
reviewed
what
I
had
at
home–this
was
fine,
since
neither
of
us
were
prepared
for
me
to
try
on
woman’s
clothes
in
public.
A
week
and
later
I
had
a
huge
case
of
stage
freight
as
I
was
lying
down
on
a
hospital
bed
and
they
inserted
an
I.V.
into
my
arm.
I
couldn’t
believe
I
was
going
through
with
the
operation;
two
weeks
earlier
I
was
content
living
out
my
fantasies
online
but
now
I
was
about
to
cross
a
threshold.
I
was
scheduled
to
have
“C”
cup
implants,
some
liposuction
around
my
waist
and
the
first
in
a
series
of
laser
treatments
to
remove
all
my
body
hair.
Although
my
wife
and
I
had
discussed
only
having
the
laser
treatment
on
my
chest,
with
me
shaving
the
rest,
I
decided
to
have
my
whole
body
done
without
telling
her.
When
I
awoke
it
felt
like
I
had
been
hit
in
the
chest
with
a
baseball
bat.
I
thought
just
going
with
simple
“C”
cups,
instead
of
something
obscene,
would
have
been
easy
but
it
still
hurt.
We
left
the
hospital
with
me
wearing
a
jogging
bra
under
my
sweatshirt
and
I
began
my
recovery
and
the
start
of
my
new
year.
It
didn’t
take
me
long
to
get
into
the
swing
of
playing
the
role
of
the
woman
around
the
house.
In
a
sense
it
gave
me
the
opportunity
I
had
always
wanted
with
the
freedom
of
being
required
(or
forced
to
do
so);
thus
not
having
to
truly
expose
or
confront
my
inner
desires.
As
I
explored
new
clothing
and
new
looks
it
even
seemed
to
perk
up
our
marriage
as
well
as
giving
us
something
new
to
talk
about.
We
quickly
fell
into
a
simple
routine
and
I
continued
to
improve
upon
my
looks
and
got
accustom
to
wearing
all
my
new
clothes.
As
my
wife
put
it,
I
had
settled
on
a
Preppie
look
with
a
hint
of
slut–loving
to
put
high
heels
to
anything
in
my
growing
wardrobe.
At
first
life
continued
as
normal
as
one
could
expect.
It
appeared
my
wife
grew
used
to
having
her
husband
wearing
a
bra
and
coming
to
bed
in
lingerie.
When
we’d
go
out
to
dinner
with
friends,
or
just
go
out
shopping
for
groceries,
I’d
pull
out
some
drab
clothing
and
bind
myself
up
and
try
to
look
the
part
of
my
former
self;
making
sure
I
had
removed
all
of
my
makeup,
especially
my
eyeliner.
However,
about
three
months
into
my
year,
I
crossed
another
threshold.
I
had
to
run
out
to
get
groceries
for
dinner
but
the
thought
of
removing
my
makeup
and
going
through
all
of
the
effort
of
changing
back
into
male
mode
wasn’t
worth
it.
So
I
just
went
out
and
did
my
errands
enfemme.
And
so
it
began.
Whenever
I
had
to
do
anything
that
didn’t
involve
mingling
with
my
friends,
or
those
who
knew
me,
I
just
did
it
as
Veronica.
Each
time
I’d
go
out
it
got
easier
and
easier
to
the
point
where
I
never
even
gave
it
a
second
thought.
In
more
reflective
moments
I
was
amazed
at
how
quickly
I
had
made
the
transition
from
being
a
part‐time
closet
crossdresser
to
being
a
fulltime
transgender
something.
The
monitor
would
stop
by
periodically
but
more
often
would
call
and
request
that
I
turn
on
my
web‐cam
and
show
her
how
I
was
dressed.
There
never
seemed
to
be
an
issue
with
my
compliance
and
the
checks
continued
to
arrive
and
they
became
a
nice
supplement
to
our
income.
As
the
newness
of
the
situation
wore
off,
so
did
any
spark
it
had
brought
to
our
marriage.
We
quickly
slipped
back
into
our
old
mode
that
now
involved
almost
no
sex.
In
hindsight
we
were
becoming
nothing
more
than
roommates.
I
probably
made
matters
worse
by
finding
excuses
not
to
go
out
with
friends
since
I
found
the
back
and
forth
conversion
process
tiring.
Therefore,
the
times
we
did
go
out
were
usually
just
the
two
of
us
with
me
going
out
as
Veronica.
We
both
sensed
the
tension
but
neither
of
us
talked
about
it
because
we
thought
everything
would
return
to
normal
after
the
year
was
finished.
As
I
entered
my
12th
and
final
month,
the
unspoken
tension
was
ratcheted
up
when
the
law
firm
informed
me
that
additional
funds,
enough
for
two
more
months,
were
being
made
available
if
I
continued
to
live
as
a
women
and
I
agreed
to
get
hair
extensions.
I
had
grown
accustomed
to
wearing
a
wig,
and
in
fact
kept
my
hair
relatively
short
to
help
facilitate
not
only
wearing
the
wig
but
also
making
my
transition
back
to
being
a
male.
But
more
critical
than
the
request
was
the
fact
that
now
there
didn’t
appear
to
be
an
end
in
sight,
a
point
that
my
wife
didn’t
have
to
mention
but
that
I
saw
on
her
face.
It
was
simple
for
us
to
decide
at
this
point
to
take
two
more
months
of
funding
but
we
both
knew
that
there
we
were
going
to
be
more
requests
in
two
more
months
and
that
we
were
starting
down
a
slippery
slope.
Not
only
was
life
not
going
to
return
to
normal
but
now
we
no
longer
felt
in
control
of
where
it
was
going.
It
took
me
a
couple
of
days
to
get
used
to
the
hair
extensions
but
I
found
that
I
enjoyed
them.
They
were
longer
than
the
wig
I
had
been
using
and
felt
lighter.
The
only
part
that
I
didn’t
enjoy
was
washing
my
hair.
It
was
actually
a
pain
in
the
ass
getting
all
of
the
shampoo
out
and
every
time
I
did
it,
I
was
reminded
of
the
cliché
that
a
woman
was
too
busy
to
go
out
because
she
was
washing
her
hair.
As
another
month
ticked
by,
my
wife
and
I
were
quickly
falling
further
and
further
apart.
We
weren’t
hostile
to
each
other,
instead
we
just
did
our
own
separate
things
and
no
longer
took
the
time
to
keep
the
other
in
the
loop.
Then,
as
expected,
the
law
firm
informed
us
that
there
would
be
another
two
month
extension
if
I
agreed
to
get
two
tattoos,
one
of
a
unicorn
on
my
left
hip
and
one
that
said
“Steve’s
Slave”
on
my
right
butt
cheek.
The
idea
of
getting
the
tattoos
was
more
than
I
wanted
to
do.
Up
until
now
everything
felt
like
it
was
reversible
or
just
a
game
but
the
idea
of
the
tattoos
scared
me.
The
feelings
were
ironic,
because
here
I
was
living
life
as
a
woman,
with
breast
implants
and
hair
extensions
but
the
idea
of
getting
tattoos
bothered
me.
I
was
ready
to
call
it
quits.
My
wife,
however,
was
unfazed
by
the
request.
I
told
her
I
thought
it
was
time
to
quit
and
return
to
normal
but
her
response
was
just
“take
the
money,
what
does
it
mater.”
Her
lack
of
interest
in
what
was
going
on
with
me
spoke
volumes
on
how
we
no
longer
shared
a
connection.
I
decided
to
go
ahead
with
the
tattoos
as
a
stupid
form
of
self‐punishment
for
having
gotten
my
self
into
this
position
in
the
first
place.
Then
came
the
discussion
that,
although
it
hurt
didn’t
come
as
big
surprise.
My
wife
wanted
to
take
a
new
job
in
Los
Angles
and
she
saw
it
as
an
opportunity
for
a
new
start
and
thought
it
was
time
for
us
to
go
our
separate
ways.
It
was
a
long
conversation
and
although
we
still
cared
for
each
other
I
knew
that
our
relationship
was
over.
It
had
been
a
fear
that
we
had
talked
about
when
I
first
got
the
letter
but
we
realized
that
the
last
15
months
had
magnified
underlying
issues
we
had
never
confronted.
Life
was
a
whirlwind
of
activity
as
my
wife
prepared
to
move
and
we
put
our
house
on
the
market.
Due
to
showings,
I
spent
a
lot
of
time
out
of
the
house
and
began
to
excel
at
the
pastime
of
shopping–how
many
pairs
of
black
patent
heels
does
one‐ person
need?
It
seems
that
even
four
may
not
be
enough.
Luckily
we
were
able
to
get
an
offer
on
the
house
just
a
day
before
my
wife
was
to
leave
for
LA
taking
the
dogs
with
her.
The
closing
would
be
in
three
months
and
I
would
take
care
of
the
remaining
details,
which
included
finding
a
new
place
I
could
live
on
my
reduced
salary.
Then
another
letter
came
from
the
attorneys.
Before
I
opened
it,
I
tried
to
summon
the
courage
to
just
throw
it
out.
I
knew
that
these
letters
contributed
to
my
marriage
falling
apart
but
now
more
than
ever
I
actually
could
use
the
money.
I
also
knew
that
deep
down
I
really
enjoyed
being
Veronica,
in
fact
even
though
it
had
only
been
16
months
I
had
trouble
remembering
anything
I
liked
about
my
male‐life.
I
wanted
to
continue
being
Veronica.
I
opened
the
letter
and
if
my
wife
hadn’t
already
left,
she
probably
would
have
after
the
next
request.
It
stated
that
for
payments
to
continue
for
another
two
months
I
would
have
to
legally
change
my
name
to
Veronica
Kroeger,
which
included
getting
a
new
drivers
license
and
passport.
Of
course
upon
termination
of
the
agreement,
I
was
free
to
change
it
back
to
what
ever
I
desired
but
there
would
always
remain
a
record
of
the
change
on
file,
a
fact
that
might
haunt
me
in
the
future.
I
didn’t
really
think
about
it
that
deeply
and
just
agreed.
Forty‐eight
hours
later
I
was
in
a
courtroom
in
downtown
Chicago,
wearing
a
nicely
tailored
woman’s
suit
with
all
of
the
appropriate
accessories
as
my
male
name
was
called
out
and
I
was
told
to
approach
the
bench.
I
watched
the
whole
process
in
a
sort
of
out‐of‐body
experience,
as
I
watched
myself
dressed
as
a
woman
walk
into
courthouse
and
approach
a
judge
and
confirm
for
him
that
I
wanted
to
legally
change
my
name
to
Veronica
Kroeger.
The
judge
only
made
eye
contact
for
a
second,
banged
the
gavel,
and
moved
on
to
the
next
case.
I
then
proceeded
with
my
court
order
in‐hand
to
get
new
identification.
The
process
was
quick
and
went
with
almost
no
hassle.
The
scope
of
what
I
had
just
done
didn’t
hit
me
until
at
the
DMV
they
made
me
turn
in
my
old
license
in
order
to
get
a
new
one.
As
I
handed
it
over
I
felt
at
least
symbolically
that
my
old
life
had
just
ended.
I
continued
to
work
part
time
and
used
my
free
time
to
pack
up
the
remaining
stuff
left
in
the
house.
It
was
weird
walking
around
all
the
time
as
Veronica,
without
the
guilt
of
confronting
my
wife
everyday.
I
was
enjoying
this
side
of
me
more
and
more.
However,
the
cold
reality
of
living
still
stared
me
in
the
face:
where
was
I
going
to
live?
How
could
I
afford
a
new
house?
Would
I
have
enough
money
to
eat?
When
another
letter
from
the
attorneys
came,
I
breathed
a
sigh
of
relief
before
even
opening
it–I’d
at
least
have
some
more
money
over
the
next
two
months.
This
time
the
request
was
that
I
have
my
tongue
and
navel
pierced,
and
that
they
would
also
pay
for
an
additional
$2000
if
I
pierced
my
penis.
Even
six
month
earlier
I
would
have
balked
at
this
request
and
terminated
the
contract
but
given
my
current
financial
state
and
how
far
I
had
come,
I
just
began
making
inquires
on
where
to
have
the
piercings
done.
In
hindsight
I
should
have
been
more
contemplative,
since
the
piercings
hurt
like
hell
for
days.
Once
the
swelling
in
my
tongue
went
down,
I
found
myself
strangely
drawn
to
mirrors
where
I
examined
it
constantly.
I
had
never
been
that
interested
in
people
who
had
pierced
tongues,
wondering
why
the
hell
they
would
do
something
like
that.
But
as
I
stared
at
my
piercing
I
felt
strangely
proud
of
the
fact
that
it
made
me
look
and
feel
sluty.
I
now
knew
that
I
would
have
to
take
the
next
plunge
into
womanhood
and
try
out
my
piercing
by
giving
someone
head.
I
had
never
given
a
guy
a
blowjob
but
the
more
I
immersed
myself
into
Veronica
the
more
I
wanted
be
used
as
a
woman
to
please
a
man’s
cock.
I
never
had
done
anything
while
I
remained
married
but
that
I
was
alone
it
was
all
I
could
think
about.
I
knew
deep
down
I
wanted
to
be
a
slut.
But
before
I
could
indulge
in
my
lust,
I
had
to
find
a
place
to
live.
Time
was
running
out
and
I
still
couldn’t
find
an
alternative
place
to
live
that
I
could
afford
and
that
was
in
a
good
part
of
town.
Then
off
schedule,
another
letter
arrived
from
the
law
firm.
I
was
convinced
before
I
opened
it
that
it
was
going
to
bring
an
end
to
the
financing
of
Veronica,
in
which
case
I
had
already
committed
myself
to
continuing
on
even
without
the
money.
Instead
the
letter
merely
requested
my
presence
at
an
address
in
Wilmette
at
1:00
PM
the
next
Saturday.
I
instantly
recognized
the
address
as
the
home
I
had
Googled
when
Steve
provided
me
with
his
address.
I
wondered
why
the
law
firm
would
want
me
to
go
to
Steve’s
house?
Then
I
got
excited
at
the
idea
that
maybe
as
his
last
gift
I
was
going
to
inherit
the
house.
In
one
instant
my
worries
had
evaporated
left
me
on
an
emotional
high
for
the
next
few
days.
Saturday
arrived,
and
in
tribute
to
Steve,
I
put
on
the
white
corset
he
had
bought
me
along
with
the
white
leather
choker,
the
white
gloves,
and
a
white
silk
dress
with
spaghetti
straps.
As
I
drove
up
at
exactly
1:00
P.M.,
I
was
impressed
with
the
large
English
Tudor
house
and
I
couldn’t
believe
that
it
might
be
mine.
I
noticed
that
there
were
no
other
cars
around
and
figured
the
attorneys
must
be
running
late.
I
thought
about
waiting
in
the
car
but
decided
I
had
to
check
out
the
grounds
of
the
house
so
I
got
out
of
the
car
and
started
walking
around.
I
approached
the
front
door
and
decided
to
ring
the
bell
just
in
case
someone
was
home,
not
expecting
a
reply.
To
my
surprise,
I
heard
footsteps
inside
the
house
approaching
the
door.
The
door
opened
and
standing
in
front
of
me
was
Steve
Kroeger.
I
recognized
him
immediately
from
our
late
nights
of
web‐camming.
My
mouth
was
agape
and
I
was
at
a
total
loss
of
words‐my
mind
was
having
trouble
getting
around
the
fact
that
this
man
was
still
alive
and
standing
in
front
of
me.
Steve
broke
the
silence.
“I
am
sure
you
thought
I
passed‐away,
and
although
I
wanted
to
give
you
that
impression,
my
attorneys
actually
never
stated
anything
other
than
it
was
my
Trust’s
wishes
that
you
embark
upon
the
course
of
feminization....Welcome
home
Mrs.
Kroeger.
Upon
saying
that,
he
led
me
past
the
threshold
of
the
door
and
looked
me
over.
I
just
blushed
and
smiled
back
at
the
realization
that
he
had
taken
me
at
my
word
and
made
me
his
perfect
bride.
We
then
embraced
in
a
long
kiss
that
I
broke
off
as
I
fell
to
my
knees
and
gave
my
new
husband
the
first
of
many
blowjobs.