The Three Sisters

This story gives my usual TS heroine a rest, and deals with the idyllic relationship a young cross dresser has with his big sister; a visit to TV heaven.

THE THREE SISTERS

1. Reg Tells The Story.

Our parents had both died in an accident, some years previously, and I lived with my two elder sisters in the family home. We were quite well provided for, and my eldest sister Marianne was nominally the head of the household. She was 21, and the second sister, Linda was two years younger; I was another two years younger than her. We got on very well, and had a happy life together; sometimes we went our separate ways, and followed our own interests, but we felt a sense of community which was not at all overpowering.

We had been raised fairly liberally, and had no particular hangups about lifestyles; we had also been used to taking the differences in our bodies and genders as a matter of course, and though we all enjoyed our privacy at times, we did not have excessive modesty about our clothing. Quite often we saw one another dressed for bed, or partially dressed, and it was not a source of any awkwardness or embarrassment. I was fairly used to the ways of girls, and women, and did not experience any discomfort because of my status as the sole male member of the household. I did think about gender differences from time to time, and even found it interesting to speculate about life on the other side, but there was no sense of urgency or frustration about such things.

Early one evening, Marianne was getting herself ready to go out; I happened to pass her bedroom, and the door was open, as often happened, so I glanced in idly. She was standing in front of her mirror, wearing a sleek black girdle with a matching bra, and she was just completing the task of fastening her six suspenders to a pair of sheer black stockings. She fixed the last one to her satisfaction, and then looked up; she saw me and smiled nonchalantly "Hi, Reg," she said. "I'm getting myself ready for my evening out, and I thought it would be a good occasion to try this new girdle; it fits beautifully, and it really feels wonderful." "It looks very nice indeed," I said, and went on through to the living room. I heard her walking around her room in her heels, and then she came out to join me; she was wearing a peignoir over her girdle and bra, but she didn't go to great pains to make sure she had it wrapped all around her.

She smiled at me again. "I'm sorry, Reg," she said; "I wasn't thinking. I probably wasn't dressed in the most appropriate way to expose myself to a tender young lad like yourself. I know we are a bit casual in our ways here, but I should really have kept my bedroom door shut." "Oh, don't worry about it," I said; "it really did look very nice -- a sight any male would appreciate." Our rapport with one another was very good, and we had a great deal of fun kidding one another. "I hope you weren't too excited," she said; "it wouldn't be a good idea to get you frustrated; I believe I was presenting myself in fairly classic pin-up mode." "I suppose you were, but I think I can handle it. That's supposed to be the advantage of having sisters -- that one gets a chance to learn some of the esoteric secrets of femininity." Marianne was something of a student of the human condition, and was familiar with many of the strange habits that people exhibit on occasion; she couldn't resist probing, to add to her large accumulation of facts. "Did the sight have any effect on you?" she asked quite seriously. I thought for a moment; "I found it very attractive," I said, "but there was something more than that. I don't think it was sexual. I think I had a strange sense of curiosity. It struck me that in some respects male and female clothing is really very different, and I wondered what it might be like to wear the sort of things you were wearing."

"That's an interesting response," she said. "You must have heard or read about transvestites; they're men who for one reason or another enjoy wearing women's clothing. Sometimes they even present themselves fully as women, and go out in public. There are one or two at the bar I go to sometimes. I don't really know why, but I find myself quite empathetic to them. Anyway, I must finish getting ready, so I'll forego giving you a complete psychological examination on your attitudes; you might equally well wonder about mine." She grinned, and went back to her room, leaving me sitting with my magazine, but also with a strange sense of excitement. Somehow, the idea of men wearing female clothing had a strange effect on me, and I couldn't get it out of my mind.

The topic came back to my mind from time to time over the next few days; it did have a certain fascination for me, and I must admit that my curiosity had been aroused. One evening the three of us were sitting down to dinner together, and out of the blue Marianne raised the matter again. "I was out with my girl friend Shiela last night, and just for entertainment we went to that lesbian place Sappho's; there were some quite interesting people there." "Were there a lot of women dressed in a very masculine way?" asked Linda. "Yes, there were some," said Marianne, "but there were also some very feminine looking people that I don't think were women at all." "Men in drag?" "Yes; they're called cross dressers or transvestites in the books. There were two of them for sure." "That's interesting," said Linda, "I wonder why they want to do that; is it because they are gay?" "They aren't usually," expounded Marianne; "if you think about it, gays are men who are sexually interested in other men. These are men who just like the idea of presenting themselves as women -- they enjoy being girls." "I can understand that," said Linda. "I think it's fun being a girl, and I can see why a man would want to have some of the nice experiences. They don't have the same pleasure with their clothes, as we do, nor making themselves pretty."

I listened to this exchange with great interest, but I didn't make any comment, and the conversation flagged for a few minutes. Marianne eventually broke the silence: "I agree with you, Linda; when I think about it, I wonder why many more men don't want to explore the pleasures of femininity." She looked at me, quite serious, and continued. "Would you like to try wearing women's clothing, Reg? If you have any interest in doing so, I think you should explore it, and I for one would be quite understanding; it would even be fun to help you." "It would!" put in Linda. "I think it would be wonderful if Reg wanted to try being a girl; it would be like having a new sister." I was completely nonplussed by this turn in the conversation, but I was very intrigued; I tried to brush it off by saying "What is this? It sounds like you are ganging up on me in a feminine recruitment drive." Marianne was quite serious, though, and she said to me with a wonderful kindness "No, it isn't like that. But there are men who are very interested, and all I wanted to do was tell you that if you had any such inclination, you shouldn't feel awkward about it. I must admit, too, that I'm curious about your reaction to the idea."

That really put me on the spot, and I thought about how to answer. There was such a wonderful rapport between the three of us, that I decided to be completely candid. "I hadn't thought about it at all, until the other day," I said, "but I have to admit now that I am curious. I have always liked feminine clothing to look at, and I think I am beginning to get a desire to see how it might feel. In a strange way, what Linda said appeals to me; it would be nice to wear a pretty dress, like the ones the two of you wear, and for us to spend an evening together. I like the idea of being one of three, and not the odd one out." Linda smiled at me, and hugged me; "I think that would really be fun," she said. "I'm sure we can find some pretty dresses that you would enjoy wearing, and would suit you. Of course you would have to wear all the proper things underneath!" "I know," I said, "but they're the things I am really curious about; they seem to be really feminine, and I am beginning to like the idea of trying out some feminine things." Marianne was smiling in her kind way too. "I understand that, Reg," she said. "I can see why such things might appeal to you, and I think you're being quite brave in admitting the way you feel to us. As Linda said, it really is fun being a girl; in some respects we have more freedom than men do, since there really aren't any restrictions on what women can wear. I have never understood why men can't enjoy the same freedom, and I would encourage you to try some nice clothes, if only to feel you have the same choice we do on how to express yourself."

We occupied ourselves as usual after dinner, and neither of them pursued the fascinating topic that had livened up the meal. Just about when we were getting ready to go to bed, Marianne spoke to me again: "Don't feel that there is any rush, or that you are under any pressure from us," she said. "It's simply that if one day you feel you might like to try wearing some nice feminine clothes, or even presenting yourself fully as a girl, please just say so. We'll understand, and we'll be there to help you with whatever you would like to try." "Thanks, Marianne," I said; "you're a wonderful big sister, and I feel very close to you. I think that I would like to try things one day soon, and I shall be quite as ease with you and Linda. Goodnight." As I went to my room, I felt strangely liberated, and I realised that a seed had been planted; somehow I knew that the urge to follow through would be irresistible.

A couple of weekends later the weather was dull and miserable, and none of us had any desire to leave the house. We all had things to do, and spent the morning busy with our own particular interests. By lunchtime, I was beginning to get a little bored, and the discussion with Marianne came into my mind; I found myself more and more fascinated by the idea of trying out feminine clothing, and I felt an urge to do so that became stronger and stronger. We sat down for a bite to eat, and I noticed that my sisters seemed to be at something of a loose end too. The effect of the weather was quite depressing, and the tasks we normally found interesting were beginning to get tiresome. "It's odd how the weather affects the way I feel," said Marianne. "I've got all kinds of things to do, but for some reason I can't get into them with too much enthusiasm. It's too bad we don't have some exciting game we could play to cheer us all up, and make us forget about the weather." "You're right," said Linda, "but there don't seem to be any good games for three that we all enjoy. How is it going with you, Reg?" "I feel just about the same," I said. "If the weather was decent, I'm at the point where I would be ready to go outside for a bit, just for a break. I really need something new to do, for a change of pace." Marianne looked at me with a sparkle of interest in her eyes, and her unspoken question was quite clear to me. I knew this was the time to give in to my desires, and though I felt a little sheepish about admitting to them, I decided to be completely open about them.

"It might be a good time for me to see what fun it really is being a girl," I said. "To be honest, I've been thinking about it all morning, and I have quite a strong urge to see what nice feminine clothes are like." "Oh, Reg! That would be wonderful," said Linda. " It would be a perfect thing to do on a day like this, and I really would like to have a new sister." She was quite enthused, and hugged me. Marianne smiled at the response; "It is a good time," she said, "and I think I would enjoy it too. I'm sure that when Reg finds out what he's been missing, he'll have a lot of fun as well." Ever practical, she started to think about the logistics; "I think we're about the same build, Reg," she said; "I would imagine that a lot of my things would fit you quite well. What would you like to try?" "I'm not really sure," I replied; "but I think I ought to try a complete outfit, and do it properly." "Oh, you should," said Linda; "I think you should wear stockings, and a proper foundation, under your dress. With a nice pair of panties and a slip, you'll really feel wonderful wearing a pretty dress. You must try everything!" "How do you feel about that, Reg?" asked Marianne. "Would you like to wear a girdle, and stockings with suspenders?" I felt as if a raw nerve had been touched at the word 'suspenders', and I felt a keen excitement; they were things I thought of as being particularly feminine, and I found myself stimulated by the thought of wearing them myself. "Yes. I would. I want to dress completely as a girl, and I think they are part of the experience."

It was a strange feeling; I felt very close to my two sisters, and I was quite overcome by their unqualified acceptance. Their straightforward reactions made the situation completely unthreatening, and made me all the more keen to see what the experience would be like. "It's probably best to do it in my room," said Marianne; "that's where my clothes are, and there is plenty of space. Why don't you have a nice hot bath, and freshen yourself up completely, Reg; then you can join us there. Linda can help me tidy up a bit, so the room is presentable." The two girls went off to Marianne's large bedroom, and I went to my room; there I took off all my clothes, and put on my bathrobe. In the bathroom, I decided I might as well do everything I could to follow the scenario, so I took some of Linda's bath crystals, and poured them into the hot water. They produced bubbles and a pervasive fragrance that struck me as being very feminine. I sunk into the tub, and luxuriated for quite a long time. Finally I got myself out, and dried myself off, then, clad in my terrycloth bathrobe, I walked over to Marianne's room. She and Linda were having quite an animated discussion. "I really think a corselette would be best," Marianne was saying. I realised that they were discussing what might be most appropriate for me, and again I was quite overcome by their accepting attitude; they weren't giggling together, or finding my possible choices of clothing amusing -- they were quite seriously considering what might work the best. "Well here I am," I said; I think I'm ready to try being the third sister."

"Linda and I were discussing what sort of foundation would be best," said Marianne. "So I gather," I said; "what was the verdict?" I was all agog to start now, feeling completely uninhibited by the relaxed atmosphere my two wonderful sisters were generating. "Well," said Marianne, "the basic problem is the difference in body shape; males have a much less pronounced waist than females, and female things like girdles are designed with the assumption that the wearer's hip size is about ten inches larger than her waist. That's not true at all for men. I think to get a girdle nice and snug round the hips, it will really be too tight at the waist; that will be very uncomfortable, and it will also tend to roll down. I think the answer is an all-in-one, a corselette; they are somewhat more accommodating, and there also won't be a problem with the gap between your bra and girdle." "I'm in your hands," I said; "I know you are the experts." I had quite a twinge of excitement at the casual way Marianne had said 'your' bra and girdle. "I think Marianne's right," said Linda; "she rather likes corselettes anyway, but my preference is for something a little less extensive." "So where do we start?" I asked. "Well," said Marianne smiling, "there's the perennial question about panties; should they be under or over? They look much nicer underneath, and you always see them worn that way in pictures, but it's rather impractical on certain occasions." Linda giggled; "In the bathroom," she said: "every time you have to undo, and then do up all your suspenders." This was getting quite interesting; "So what should I do?" Marianne considered; I think you should wear your panties underneath," she said. "It is impractical sometimes, but it's much better esthetically, and there's also another consideration." "Oh. What's that?" "The matter of your delicate sensibilities, not to mention ours. You might feel more at ease with certain things nicely covered up." "Now you mention it, I think I would," I said. "Of course Linda and I know what men's bodies are like, and I don't think it would be a real problem for us; realistically we have to deal with bodies the way they are, if we are going to try such intimate garments." I wasn't too concerned at them seeing me naked, but there was one possibility that crossed my mind, and it could prove embarrassing; I wondered if they had thought about it, and were being discreet." "I think I should start out with panties," I said; "I don't think the inconvenience will be a problem."

Marianne was searching through one of her drawers; she found what she was looking for, and came over to me holding what looked liked a few folds of filmy lacy pink nylon. "These are nice panties," she said. "Put them on, then you'll be decent, and we can go ahead and sort out what other things would be best. I should get a nice feminine robe for you too, so you get the feel of things right from the start." "I hope they're not your best ones," I said. "It's very kind of you to let me try wearing your things like this, but I wouldn't want to mess anything up." "You won't," she said cheerfully. "Panties are easy to get, anyway, and if you like wearing them, we can always get some for your own." I stepped into the delicate garment, with a sense of excitement; I felt that I was beginning a completely new venture, and I was now very interested to see where it would lead me. I quickly pulled them up my legs, and once they were in place, and I was 'decent' I felt much more at ease. There was another effect that I hadn't anticipated, though; I felt my penis responding to my excitement, and it was further stimulated by being closely confined in the filmy pink nylon. I tried to ignore that; I realised that the panties had a wonderful texture, and they felt cool and sensuous on my skin. They fit quite snugly, but they were very comfortable. Marianne and Linda looked at me with a critical eye; "They do fit quite well," Marianne said. "They're pretty and feminine, and they look nice on you, Reg." I felt more stirrings at this comment, and I began to fear that there might be a problem I hadn't bargained for. My two sisters were not ignorant at all about the male anatomy, but I wondered if they were familiar with some explicit details of its mechanism; I hoped that they weren't, and they would simply see a bulge where they would expect there to be something of the sort.

Marianne came over to me with a fluffy pink peignoir; "Try this on," she said. "It will give you a taste of the nice feeling of feminine clothes, and also keep you covered and warm while we consider what comes next. The peignoir felt delicious; it gave me a wonderful feeling over the whole of my body, and had a wonderful light caressing feeling that I was utterly unused to. It was becoming apparent that male clothes were very different from the sensuous garments I now wore. "It does feel nice," I said; "maybe you're right, and females really are the privileged members of our society. When clothes feel like this, I can understand why one would get so much enjoyment from them." Marianne smiled at me, and Linda hugged me again. "I think you are going to be a wonderful new sister for us," she said. Marianne was over looking through drawers again, and she returned with a garment that looked stretchy, with delicate shoulder straps, and suspenders dangling from it; my heart missed a beat. "This is a corselette," she said. "It's an all-in-one foundation, so it serves as a bra, it controls the figure, and it is more than adequate in supporting stockings. It's a nice stretchy one, and you'll have to ease your way into it; it doesn't have any hook and eye or zipper fastenings like some of them do. You may find it a bit tight, but it will accommodate itself to your shape." She smiled, and added "What's more to the point, it will accommodate your shape somewhat." It was dazzling white, and I could see subtle textures in the stretchy material. I took off the peignoir, and prepared myself for the exciting experience of trying a real feminine foundation garment. Marianne held it open, by the shoulder straps, and got me to step in between them; pulling it up over my legs was easy, but it had to be stretched and eased over my hips and torso. With some wriggling from me, and some tugging by Marianne, it was finally over my abdomen, and Marianne then asked me to put each arm in turn through one of the shoulder straps; this involved some more tugging, but finally the straps were in position on my shoulders, and I was encased in the tight, but not uncomfortable, stretchy fabric. There were also two prominent lacy cups located on my chest, one right over each of my nipples.

"Just a moment," Marianne said; "there's another way our bodies differ as well. To get the real feel of this garment, and what it does for you, you'll have to use these." She had a couple of pads in her hand, and I realised that they were actually quite realistic breast forms. She popped one of them into my bra cup one side, then did the same with the other, then she pulled and smoothed a little before she stood back satisfied. "They are not only the right shape as the real thing," she said, "they are also about the right weight. So you'll not only have the proper feminine figure, you'll also get the right feel; the straps will dig into your shoulders just a bit, but that's what we have to live with. It certainly looks wonderful." It felt wonderful too; I had a sense of restriction and containment, but it was not excessive, and was comforting rather than oppressive. "Try walking up and down," Marianne suggested, "and you'll get the feel of it." I did, and the effect was delicious and captivating. I felt the gentle constraint all over my body, and the material gave and stretched in a wonderfully stimulating way as I walked. I was aware too of the tugging on my bra straps, and that made me very conscious of the prominent bosom displayed on my chest. I liked the effect, and as I walked to and fro, I found it exciting, and once again felt stirrings in my groin. They were well constrained now, as the hem of the corselette fitted snug round my hips, and the panties restraining my penis were held firmly in place. I enjoyed the sensations, knowing that the effect would not easily be apparent to my two sisters.

Linda seemed to be enjoying the experience as much as I was. She came and took me by the hand; "You look wonderful," she said. "It really is right for you, just like Marianne said. Come and see yourself!" She led me over to the mirror on the dressing table, and I looked at my reflection in awe. My head and face made it somewhat incongruous, but from the neck down the image was undeniably feminine; it was really quite sexy, with its suspenders dangling provocatively from the hem of the corselette, and I felt a thrill of excitement to realise that I was looking at an image of myself. I didn't know what to say, and I put my arms round Linda and hugged her. Marianne looked at us happily; "It is nice to have two sisters," she said. "Even if it's only for a while, we can enjoy doing nice femme things together. Now we get to the best part: stockings." She took out a pair of sheer filmy nylons, and came over to me. "There are a lot of nice things about being a girl," she said, "but I think wearing things like this is one of the nicest." She led me over to the bed. "You should sit down to start with; once we have your feet in the stockings, then you'll have to stand up, so that we can get the suspenders just right." I sat on the edge of the bed as directed, and Marianne bunched up one of the stockings; she left a little pocket for me to put my toes into, and when I had done that she eased the material back over my foot. She repeated the actions with my other foot, and then both my feet were fully encased in sheer grey nylon. "Stand up, now," she said, "and Linda, I think it would be good to do this as a team." She kneeled down just behind my right leg, and she was joined by Linda on the other side. They both started to unroll the stockings, and stretch them out, easing them very carefully up my legs. The delicious tactile sensations as they did this were undescribable, and I just let myself relax and wallow in the sensations. I felt the delicate caresses working their way up my legs, and finally I felt the bands at the dark tops of the stockings fitting firmly round the middle of my thighs. I was in heaven; the feel of the delicate nylon sheath encasing my legs was ecstatic. There were even greater pleasures to come; "They do seem to be just the right size," said Marianne; "I'm so glad, as it wouldn't have been very nice at all if things didn't fit properly. The suspenders should be just right." I felt tugs then on the hem or my corselette, at the back; then the stockings were pulled up, and I felt the intricate attachment as the suspenders were firmly fixed to the stockings. "That's exactly right!" said Marianne with jubilation, then I felt the two of them tugging my suspenders down at the side to meet the stockings; they were soon attached firmly, and the sensuous feel of my stockings was enhanced by a subtle tension. It gave me a delightful tactile sensation over the whole of my legs, and I was also aware of the elastic bands of the suspenders stretched taut over my thighs. The two girls moved round to kneel in front of me, and this time I could watch what they were doing as they attached the two remaining suspenders at the front. They tugged the suspenders down, pushed the ribbon at the end under the stocking material so that the little rubber protrusion was covered by the nylon; then they slid the metal loops over the protrusions, firmly gripping the delicate stocking material, and tugging it gently upwards towards the anchoring hem of the corselette. They finished their task and stood up; Linda walked round me carefully examining the overall effect. "Everything's just right," she said. "Doesn't that feel good, Reg? That must make you really feel like a girl." She hugged me happily again.

"It certainly does feel good," I said. "I don't really know what it's like to feel like a girl, but this is an experience girls have, and I am enjoying it immensely. I supposed that does make me feel like a girl." It did feel wonderful; I walked a few steps, and felt the tug of the suspenders change subtly as they accommodated themselves to the changing position of my legs. The overall effect was overwhelming; I also became aware once again of an intense pressure in my groin, and I wasn't sure what to do about it. I smiled weakly at my two wonderful sisters; "It's a wonderful feeling," I said; "it's really very exciting, and I am almost overcome by it." Marianne caught the strange tone of my voice, and took my hand; she led me over to the bed. "I imagine it might be quite overpowering, feeling all those nice sensations for the first time," she said. "Why don't you lie down and relax for a few minutes. You can enjoy the lovely sensations, and then when you're a bit more used to them we can look out a nice dress for you to wear." "I'd like that," I said; "but maybe I should lie down for a while, and get used to the idea of feeling like a girl." I smiled weakly again, but thinking of myself in feminine terms added to the effect the clothing was having on me, and I decided to try and lie quietly to get used to it. Marianne sat on the edge of the bed, and quietly held my hand. "Just enjoy it," she said; "I can understand the way you feel, but it's something I do pretty well every day, so it's hard to remember the way it was at first. I do love wearing things like that." I saw her make a gesture to Linda, but its significance didn't really register. Then I heard the door close, and I realised that Linda had left us.

"I really do understand," Marianne said to me quietly. "I actually know a couple of men who cross dress, and they got me quite interested, so I have also done some reading. All the nice sensations we are talking about are there, and they are very enjoyable, but I know that for you there's something else happening as well. It's a lot of fun being a girl, and dressing like a girl, but for some males it can be very exciting sexually. I think that's happening to you." I nodded. I was amazed at her perception, but I was so relaxed in her company that I felt no embarrassment at what was happening; she was taking it in her stride, almost as a matter of course, and her attitude made me feel quite at ease. "We have to think about what to do now," said Marianne; "you need a release, and when that's taken care of, then we carry on with our fun." "Oh, Marianne," I said, "I'm sorry about this, but you're so understanding." She smiled at me, very kindly; "It's the way things are," she said, "and it's quite natural. I don't really see why we should make too much of a fuss about it. We haven't talked too much about sex; maybe that's right and proper since we're brother and sister, but we have always been quite free and easy with one another; I like the relationship we have, and I don't see why we can't be natural enough with one another to accommodate a little problem like this." I clasped her hand, and was almost choked up by her incredible understanding and empathy."

"Don't worry about what's happened, Reg," she continued; "now that it has happened, you might as well make the most of it. I do know something about male sexual response, and I think you're in such a state of excitement that you should relieve it. I think it might be best if I were just to help you by hand; it will certainly allow you to relax again, without making things unpleasant, but it won't be too improper." I was amazed by her pragmatic attitude, and nodded my acquiescence. "I'll get an old pair of panties," she said, going over to the dressing table; "they should feel nice, and hopefully you won't mess up anything you have on now." She returned with some powder blue frilly ruffled panties, and reached under the hem of my corselette to pull at the waistband of the ones I was wearing. She eased them down very gently indeed, and got them free of the corselette; they were under the suspenders, and formed a ring of lacy pink nylon round the tops of my stockings. My penis was released from its nylon prison, and stood up stiffly; I was far too excited now to feel any sense of embarrassment being exposed that way in front of my sister. She looked at it with interest, but in quite a matter-of-fact way; "It certainly seems ready," she said. She sat on the bed by my side, and half reclined on one elbow; she held the frilly panties in her free hand, and she carefully wrapped them round my tumescent penis. "You got excited like this because you were wearing these lovely things," Marianne said softly; "and I think you reacted strongly to thinking of yourself as feminine, and being a girl. Now we've prepared ourselves for what might happen, we should follow through. In spite of what I have in my hand, now, you do look like a nice pretty girl wearing those clothes, and some of the things you are feeling are feminine. Why don't you just close your eyes, enjoy the nice sensations from your clothes, and imagine that you are a girl being introduced to sexual pleasure by her partner?" The suggestion excited me intensely, and my penis quivered in response; Marianne started to move her hand slowly up and down the shaft, and she fingered the glans delicately. "Does that feel good?" she said. "Sex is wonderful for a girl, too. It's a fantastic feeling to realise that your partner has penetrated inside you, and as the sensitive parts there are stimulated the excitement builds and builds. Just imagine you are a girl, and you feel the motion of your partner inside you."

I did just that, and her gentle stimulating fingers, combined with the new and exciting tactile sensations from the clothes I was wearing triggered the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. My penis pulsated violently, and its spasms induced exquisite feelings of pleasure that were enhanced to an extreme degree by the rather contradictory sense of femininity that had possession of me. Like male orgasms, it was quickly over, and I lay back on the bed with a deep sense of satisfaction and euphoria. My thought processes began gradually to return to something like normality, and I realised the significance of what had happened; Marianne was my sister, and out of innate kindness and concern for me, she had helped me to achieve the most intense sexual experience of my young life. I looked up at her, and saw she was smiling happily; "That was absolutely wonderful, Marianne," I said. "I'm so glad," she replied; "it was something that had to happen, and I feel very pleased that I was able to help you. I do know a little bit about the male system, and also, as it happens, about the way cross dressing can affect it, and I wasn't taken by surprise." "You'd thought about it ahead of time, hadn't you?" I said. "You arranged for Linda to go out, so I wouldn't feel too awkward about it. You're a wonderful sister, Marianne, and I love you." She was taken aback; "I think that's the first time you have actually said that to me," she said. "I love you too, Reg. I care for you, and think exploring femininity with you is a wonderful adventure. Something made me think it might appeal to you, and I would be quite happy to help you carry on as far as you want to go. It's odd, but in a way it's flattering to be female, and realise that a male appreciates femininity and wants to try some of its nice experiences."

I didn't know how to respond to that; I was enjoying the feelings produced by wearing the corselette and stockings, and the suspenders seemed to have a particular effect on me, but I didn't feel at ease talking about it. "I like it," I said simply, and smiled at her. "Well, we've only just started; do you want to carry on now? I think you'll find it pleasant and simply enjoyable now, and there won't be quite the same intense effect." "Yes, I would. I think I would really like to wear a dress; I always think how nice they look on you and Linda." "We'll find a nice one for you, but we're going to have to get you ready first. Could you wipe yourself off, then we'll try and get your panties back where they belong." I used the old blue panties to clean myself up as much as I could, and then I dropped them on the floor. "Are you ready to carry on now?" asked Marianne. "You can see now what I meant about wearing panties; it would have been better to wear them over your suspenders, but it doesn't look so nice." I got up off the bed; my flaccid penis now looked minute in comparison to its recent state; after the intense experience of the previous half hour, I had no concern at all about exposing myself to my sister, and she took things as they were without any obvious concern. "Those suspenders are done so nicely and carefully, it would be a shame to redo them," she said, and she pulled the panties up as far as she could, then pushed the waistband up under my girdle. "I think that's right; does it feel comfortable?" "Yes, thank you." It certainly did, and I felt a strange sense of pleasure that the essential feature of my maleness, which had taken control not long before, was now confined behind a delicate layer of lacy pink nylon. I stood up, and tried a few steps backwards and forwards; it was very pleasant indeed to savour the wonderful feeling of the corselette and stockings as they adapted themselves to my motion, and I was able to do that without feeling the intense pressure that had previously been induced by my male sexuality.

Marianne went to the door, and called Linda. She came back into the room quickly and looked at me and smiled. It was a knowing smile, but she too was being utterly kind and caring. "You're ready to carry on being a girl?" she asked. "Yes," I said; "I really want to. I'm afraid I was a bit overcome just now, but I think I'm ready to continue; I really do want to try wearing a nice dress. I have two wonderful sisters, and they always look so good in their pretty dresses; I want to join them." Linda was obviously happy at my attitude and she threw her arms round me and hugged me tightly. "That's wonderful!" she said. "It will be great for us to be three sisters. Why don't we all dress up nicely for dinner? What should we wear?" Marianne thought for a moment; "It would be rather fun to all wear something in the same style," she said. "It would emphasise our close relationship as three sisters." "I know!" said Linda. "We should all wear party dresses with bouffant skirts. They will need crinoline petticoats, but they are so nice and feminine; you'll love wearing them, Reg."

Linda's enthusiasm was very infectious, and her suggestion appealed to me. Marianne seemed to like the idea too, and she started looking through her many closets. I hadn't really thought about it before, but she really did have an extensive wardrobe; finding two bouffant party dresses, and crinoline petticoats to go with them didn't seem to daunt her at all. She soon took a dress out of the closet, and held it up in front of her; it was a lovely blue, with a silky sheen to the material. It wasn't too ornate, but it did have puffy sleeves, and the skirt seemed voluminous. "What about this one, Reg?" "I like it," I said, "but you are really the best judge of what would be most suitable." "Anything is suitable, if you feel nice wearing it," she said. "Let's try it for size." She put her arms into the skirt, and eased it over my head and shoulders; I found the sleeves with my arms, and soon the silky material had fallen down over me, enveloping me in its folds. I enjoyed the feeling, and a quick glance in the mirror told me that it actually fit surprisingly well. I felt Marianne pulling the zipper up the back, and it fit snug, but not too tight, over my ersatz bosom. Linda looked at me approvingly; "You look wonderful, Reg. It really does suit you. But the skirt shouldn't hang down like that; it needs a nice crinoline underneath it." Marianne had already found one, and she came over to me with her arms filled with frilly folds of material. She unfurled it, to reveal a tapered structure, with many layers of frilly nylon stiffened by netting. "Lift up your skirt," she said, "and I'll help you step into it." With Linda's assistance I got my skirt up above my waist, revealing the delicate secrets underneath, and Marianne held the waist of the petticoat open for me to step into. I did so, and she pulled it up to fit round my waist, then Linda and she let the skirt of the dress fall over it, and they patted it into place.

I looked in the mirror again, and saw my skirt flared out from my waist; I tried walking a few steps, and felt the rustle of the layers of material under my skirt; it swirled slightly as I moved, giving me a sensation that felt delicious. "That feels wonderful," I said. "I have always thought dresses like this looked attractive, but I had no idea they were so nice to wear." "You'll need a little practice to manage it properly," said Marianne, "but you'll get used to it." "You'll have to learn how to sit down in a ladylike manner," added Linda. "If you aren't quite careful it can pop up when you don't expect it, and be quite indiscreet." She grinned; "Then people will be able to see the tops of your stockings, and even your suspenders!"

"Now what about shoes?" Marianne mused. "You really should wear heels with a dress like that, but I certainly don't have any that will fit you. Why don't you try these stretchy ballet slippers?" They were blue, matching the dress, and I was able to get them on. They were a little tight, but not too uncomfortable. Marianne looked me up and down with evident satisfaction. "The clothes are certainly quite good," she said; "we have to think next about what else you need, but Linda and I should change now. Why don't you go and practice sitting demurely in the lounge, while we get ready?"

I made my way to the lounge, and found the way my petticoat swirled around my legs as I walked was a new and interesting experience. I liked the feeling. I sat down at one end of the large couch, and discovered I was sitting on a bundle of fluffy layers; it wasn't too comfortable, and I'm certain it wasn't elegant. I tried again, sweeping my skirts out from behind me before I lowered myself, and things felt much more comfortable; to be sure, I tried a third time, and the results were to my satisfaction. It was comfortable, and I liked the feel of the layers of petticoat over my thighs; I spread the skirt out on each side of me, and sat back. I thought I was elegant enough, now, and I enjoyed the delicious feeling of femininity that seemed to me to be the appropriate way to describe the new sensations that thrilled me. I picked up a fashion magazine lying on the coffee table, and started to look through it. I had idly glanced at the magazines that Marianne and Linda got before, but hadn't found them of any particular interest; now, I had a whole new perspective, and I found the pictures fascinating; I looked eagerly through the whole thing to see if there were any dresses that appealed to me. A lot of the more exotic outfits didn't inspire me too much, but there were several beautiful pictures of what might be called traditional femininity that had a very strong effect on me, and I found myself wishing I could try on the clothes for myself. I became very envious of the elegant models displaying the various items.

I was completely engrossed in my reading when I realised that Marianne and Linda had joined me, and they were looking at me with amused but friendly smiles. They both looked beautiful; they wore dresses quite similar to mine, with bouffant skirts -- Marianne was in green, and Linda in a lovely shade of pink. They had both fixed their long hair very carefully, and were elegantly made up. I looked at them admiringly, and realised that I was still the odd one out. "You both look wonderful," I said. "I am really enjoying the experience of wearing things just like you are, but I'm afraid I must look a little bit odd." "It doesn't matter," said Marianne kindly; "you can still enjoy the nice dress, and all the things that go with it. But if you would like to try making yourself look really feminine, it would be fun to see what we could do." "Oh, yes," said Linda. "We must do everything properly and complete the transformation. I want Reg to be a real sister for us." "Would you like to try, Reg?" asked Marianne. "Yes," I said. "Let me look after this part," said Linda eagerly; "I do have a nice blonde wig, and I would really like to try my skills at makeup." "That's a good idea," said Marianne. "Why don't you see what you can do, while I start organising dinner."

Linda grabbed me impulsively by the hand and took me into her room. She had a vanity there with large mirrors surrounded by lights, and sitting on one end of it was a wigstand with a wig of beautiful long blonde hair. She had black hair, which was very attractive, but she loved experimenting, and I remembered my surprise when she had suddenly appeared one day as a dazzling blonde. She sat me down in front of the vanity, and immediately took the wig; she carefully got it oriented properly, and quickly placed it on my head. She patted it down, and swept the long locks to frame my face, and then looked in the mirror; I did, too, and what I saw was devastating -- an unmistakably feminine face looked back at me. The apparition was a ravishing blonde, and her beautiful blue party dress set off her hair to great effect. Linda gasped, and then held me in a long hug; she kissed me impulsively, and said: "You look wonderful, Reg. I really do have a young sister, and she's beautiful! I love her!" I was quite overcome by my appearance, and couldn't resist saying "I love you, too, big sister." It was a wonderful moment.

"Now we must fix your face to match the rest," she said happily, and started rummaging through the various bottles and jars that were spread all over the top of the vanity. I had no idea what to expect, and she set to work eagerly, to put the ultimate touches to my transformation. It was a long and quite complex process, and I watched in fascination as Linda worked away happily; she had me sitting back from the vanity table, so that she could get at my face easily, but I was facing the mirrors and had a grandstand view. She worked a liquid preparation over the whole of my face; I didn't really know what she was doing precisely, but I resolved to find out, and realised that the fashion magazines would now be very interesting reading. The shadow from my beard disappeared completely, and my complexion began to take on a clearer smoother appearance; to my eyes it was much more convincingly feminine. Then things got more exotic, as various different cosmetics were applied around my eyes; there was a fine dark line outlining my eyes, and a hint of metallic blue appeared on my eyelids. Linda produced a rather frightening looking implement, and did something to my eyelashes; she followed that by using a minute brush to apply some sticky black material. I had an idea that it might be mascara, but the result was to see my eyelashes become thick and luscious, and turn upwards in what to me was a most provocative way. The final touch was to colour my lips; it wasn't a simple application of lipstick that was familiar to me from seeing women do quick fixes to their faces after eating. Linda outlined and filled in my lips with a pencil, and then painted on the red colour with a fine brush. She finally used another larger, very soft brush to apply powder all over my face. "I think that's everything," she said with evident satisfaction. "Now you really do look like my sister!" To me, it was everything and more, and the effect of her work was staggering. "I had no idea I could be made to look like that," I said. "It's a strange feeling to look at the mirror and realise that I really am looking at myself. I think I like it."

Linda hugged me again. "I can't kiss you now," she said, "because it would mess up your face; I wish I could, though -- I feel so close to you. You're a wonderful sport, and it really is fun to have another sister. Let's go and introduce her to Marianne." I got up, and felt the hair sweeping down the sides of my face, in addition to all the delightful sensations from my dress and the nice things underneath it. Linda took me by the hand, and we went out to the kitchen where Marianne was busy at work with an apron over her party dress. "Here's our new sister!" said Linda. "What do you think?" Marianne looked at me in amazement; "You're beautiful, Reg," she said. She looked me up and down, and flung her arms round me in a real sisterly hug. I was enjoying everything, and the response of my two wonderful sisters gave me a warm feeling; I felt welcome, and realised that it was very nice indeed to really feel like one of the group. Marianne was still taken aback; "It's hard to believe it's you, Reg," she said.

Linda started to look a little bothered. "She's our new sister," she said; "I think she looks wonderful, too, but we really have to have a nice name for her; we can't call her Reg." I was a bit taken aback by this remark, but I realised that she was right. Marianne obviously felt the same way; "Of course," she said. "She must have a name that really suits her." She looked at me with her wonderful kind smile; "What would you like to be called?" Her question put me on the spot; my transformation had happened so quickly that I had not really assimilated all its consequences. It was now obvious to me that I could no longer be Reg, but I thought that finding a name that would feel right would be difficult. "I don't know," I said; "I would really like to use a nice girl's name now, but there isn't one that immediately comes to my mind." "Dinner won't be long," said Marianne; "I'll finish getting it ready. But you must decide what you would like us to call you; think of a really nice name that would suit the way you look now." I went back to the lounge, and carefully sat myself down; I was getting more skilled with practice, and spread my skirts out beside me. I started to think of feminine names that might strike a chord in me, and feel appropriate. It was a difficult task, but I soon realised that my name would have to have an obvious "feminine" ending. I decided that it would be nice to keep the same initial, and that limited my choice; I went through all the names I could think of that began with an 'R' and it came to me: I would like my sisters to call me Rosanne. I whispered it to myself once or twice, and felt a definite response to it.

Marianne called out that dinner was ready, and I realised that I had done nothing to help; Linda had been busy setting the table, while I was struggling with feminine nomenclature. I joined my sisters in the dining room; before we sat down, in a spontaneous gesture, they joined hands and reached out to me. I joined them, and we closed in to form a triangular embrace; "I looked up at them, sheepishly, and said "I'd like to be called Rosanne." They both smiled happily, and we clung even closer together, squeezing our petticoats between us into a tight mass of frilly nylon. "I'm so glad you are here with us, Rosanne," said Marianne. Linda gave me an extra hug and said "I love you, Rosanne, little sister." At that moment I knew that I really was Rosanne, and I had a wonderful sense of belonging.

Dinner was a strange experience; at one level it was very familiar, and the three of us sat down and enjoyed one another's company in the easygoing way that was our normal routine. I was getting used to my clothing now, and for long periods of time I wasn't even aware of how different it was from my usual drab attire; but then I would drop my hand down, and feel it encounter my dress -- every time that happened I become very much aware of my layers of petticoat once again, and the lovely tactile sensation of my stockings, tightly stretched over my legs. Once in a while, I would move my position in my chair, and feel the suspenders at the back of my thighs dig into me; it might have been uncomfortable, but I found it an exciting reminder of all the delectable things I was wearing, and the wonderful afternoon I had spent. Our conversation was normal, almost as if we had determined that in spite of my transformation, everything else would proceed normally; but whenever my sisters turned the conversation to me, they would unhesitatingly call me Rosanne. At first I had to think for a moment, realising with a start that I was being addressed, but I got used to it, and I certainly liked it. The meal was enjoyable, as always, and as we finished our dessert, we began to think what we might do for the rest of the evening. Linda was the first to say out loud what we were all thinking. "What shall we do after dinner? We must do something special as three sisters."

I had a strong desire to join my two sisters in doing something together, that would involve me as one of three sisters, and underline my transformed state, but it wasn't obvious what collective 'feminine' pursuits we might indulge in. "Just a minute," said Marianne, "I think we may be in luck. Isn't that special on television tonight? The long documentary on the history of female fashion through the twentieth century." "Oh, yes!" said Linda. "I really want to see that; would you like to watch it, Rosanne?" "Yes." I could think of nothing I wanted to do more. The topic would be fascinating to me now, and I relished the thought of joining my sisters, being one of them, and watching a program we would all enjoy, which would no doubt stimulate interesting comments. I couldn't help thinking to myself, that until very recently, it would have been the last possible thing to interest me. My frilly petticoats, my smooth stockings, and my tight suspenders, with my pretty dress on top not only were giving me pleasant feelings, but they gave me a desire to hear about other people who wore such things, what their history was, and feel a sense of community with them.

"This is a special evening," Marianne said, "and we must do something to mark the occasion." She got out three liqueur glasses, and took a bottle of drambuie from the cupboard. She poured a healthy glass for each of us, and we all sat back, sipping our drinks, to wait for the television special to start. It was a fascinating program, and in my newfound state I was completely captivated by it. It dealt with women's clothing for the last hundred years -- almost every item of women's clothing. There were wonderful pictures of dresses, and the way styles had changed over the years, but it also went into great detail on the related items of lingerie and underwear. There was a long section on corsets, and their gradual evolution into present day girdles and brassieres, with many illustrations that excited my interest. Marianne and Linda were enthused too, and they made comments that I found very interesting. They were both particularly kind in drawing me into their discussion, asking me what I thought about things, and explaining some of the subtleties that I might have missed. I was sorry when it was over; the three of us sat back happily, and the conversation about the wonderful world of women's clothing continued for a long time. I had a deeply satisfying sense of belonging, and participating in a group that welcomed me -- a group that my gender had naturally excluded me from previously.

Finally we realised it was time to start thinking about bed. I had enjoyed my afternoon and evening more than I could possibly have imagined, and I felt a real obligation to my two wonderful sisters. "I have to thank you both," I said. "It's been absolutely wonderful, and your help and acceptance of me as a sister has been a fantastic experience. I'm quite sorry to have it come to an end." "It doesn't have to, Rosanne," said Linda. "I've grown very fond of you, and I'd like you to stay." Marianne was more pragmatic, but she continued in her kind accepting way. "You can do whatever you want, Rosanne. You'll have to go back to being Reg a lot of the time, but there's no hurry. Let me find you a nice nightdress, and you can go to bed as Rosanne." "I'd love that," I said. "It would be a perfect end to the day. Thanks, Marianne." "You will have to clean off that makeup," said Linda. "I'll help you with it." She took me back to her room, and showed me how to use makeup remover; soon all traces of my feminine complexion were gone, but I still felt the wonderful clothes. Linda gave me the wig stand, so that I could put the wig away properly when I took it off; she realised that I wanted to delay that as long as possible. I thanked her again for all her help, and then she excused herself, saying she had to get up early in the morning.

I was ready to go to bed myself, but I had enjoyed such a wonderful day, with intense emotional experiences, that I didn't know quite how to bring it to an end. In her kind empathetic way, Marianne sensed what was going through my mind. "Rosanne?" she said, and seemed a little hesitant. "Yes." "You've really enjoyed being a girl today, haven't you?" "Yes, I have. It was a strange new experience, and quite thrilling, but I have got used to it, in a way. This evening it seemed quite natural, and there was a lovely warm feeling being a sister to you and Linda. I just don't want that to end." "I thought so. It's been wonderful for me to have another sister, and though we have always got on well together, it seemed to bring us even closer. It really was a nice evening we had together. We'll have to talk about where we go from here, but it really seems a pity to change things back suddenly." "I would like to go to bed as Rosanne," I said; "tomorrow's another day, and I may have to face reality then." Marianne put her arms round me; "I think you should," she said. "And I would love to get to know my little sister better. Would you like to come to bed with me? It's a girl's room; I'd like your company, and we could be sisters together for a while longer." I was taken aback, but it was obvious that she was innocently seeking my company as a sister. I was quite overcome by her feeling for me, and realised that I would like nothing better than to sink into a warm feminine space, and snuggle up to my wonderful big sister as I went to sleep. "Yes, I would," I whispered.

She took my hand, and led me into her bedroom. It was a nice large room, with a big double bed, and a wonderful feminine feel to it. She closed the door, and smiled at me; "We can get ready for bed together," she said, "and I can help you with your clothes." She unzippered my dress at the back, and helped me ease it up over my bosom and shoulders. I stood there surrounded by my bouffant petticoat, with the white top of my corselette and its prominent bra cups exposed. She took the dress, and carefully arranged it on a hanger in the closet. "Now you can help me," she smiled. I tugged the zipper on the back of her dress down, and then clumsily helped to lift up the skirt for her; she worked it over her head with ease, and took it over to the closet too. She was wearing layers of net petticoat, but her midriff was bare, and she wore an elegant white bra with lovely lacy cups. "The petticoats slip down quite easily," she said, demonstrating by pulling hers down over her thighs; she stepped out of it elegantly, leaving a frothy pile of nylon on the floor, and she revealed a matching white girdle with six suspenders stretched across her thighs to the tops of her smooth dark stockings. I noticed with surprise that she wore her panties underneath the girdle, and knowing her kind thoughtfulness, I wondered if she had done it just for my benefit. I slid my petticoat down, and stepped out of it, not quite so elegantly, and Marianne picked up the two garments and took them over to their place in the large closet.

We stood there together, both wearing dark stockings, with suspenders stretched across our thighs, and I felt a quiet thrill; there was an intimacy in casually undressing with my sister that underlined our close relationship. It was completely innocent, and at least for me had no sexual overtones whatsoever; I felt like a girl, casually getting ready for bed with her big sister, and it gave me a delicious warm feeling. "You can undo your suspenders, I'm sure," said Marianne, "but be careful with the stockings; it's easy to snag them." She smiled; "One thing we didn't do was your nails." She set to work undoing her own suspenders, and I followed suit, though I didn't have the same facility. She carefully pulled her stockings down, then tugged the toes away from her foot, and fluttered them out. I started to try and do the same, but she came over to help me finish the task. "Now slip your shoulder straps off," she said to me, "and pull your arms free." That done, she rolled the bra cups down, and the breast forms popped out. She pulled the corselette down, from the top; it was inside out when I stepped out of it, and she flipped it over and folded it neatly to put it away in a drawer. I was left wearing the lacy panties, and Marianne unzippered her girdle and unhooked it; she stepped out of it and carefully put it away too.

Almost all my lovely feminine accoutrements had been removed, now, but there was still a wonderful atmosphere of feminine sisterly togetherness, accentuated by the sight of my beautiful big sister standing by me wearing her bra and panties. "I must find a really nice nightie for you," she said, and started looking through one of the drawers by her bedside. She found what she was looking for and came over to me with a long nylon gown, in pastel blue, with delicate lace trim around the neck and hem, and short wide sleeves. She held it up for me to slip my arms into, and it passed easily over my head and fell down, almost to the floor, engulfing me in its sensuous caress. It felt delicious, and I walked a few steps feeling the folds swirl around me. My reaction was obvious, and Marianne smiled at me with satisfaction; "It's lovely, isn't it?" She took an almost identical nightdress from under her pillow, and then paused for a moment. It was apparent to me that she was thinking something through, and she took me by the hand. "I'm enjoying our time together in a feminine space," she said. "It's wonderful to be two girls together, and I am really enjoying getting to know another part of you. You're my sister, Rosanne, and I think what we are doing is completely innocent, even though it is very intimate. I have to take my bra off now, and I'm just going to carry on naturally, and really treat you as my sister." She reached behind her back, and unhooked the fastening, then she leaned forward, slipping the shoulder straps off, and let the bra drop into her hands. She stood before me, and her full breasts stood out firmly in front of her.

I couldn't resist the sight, and looked at her intently. I felt strange feelings stirring in me; they weren't sexual, but there was a definite excitement. "You're beautiful, Marianne!" The effect on me was profound, and before I realised what I was saying, I blurted out "They look so nice, I'm so envious." Almost immediately I felt very embarrassed, but Marianne slipped her nightdress on, and came over to me. She cradled me in her arms, and squeezed me tight. "Don't worry, little sister. If that's really what you want, then we can think about ways of helping you. Let's go to bed now, and we'll see how you feel about things in the morning." She turned back the sheets on both sides of the big bed, and then looked at me with a smile. "I'm afraid you'll have to take the wig off now, but we'll turn the lights off right away, so it won't be too bad." She helped me take the wig off, and put it carefully on the stand; I looked at it admiringly, thinking that I was looking at a wonderful memory of myself. I got into bed, and Marianne settled into the other side, turning the light out.

I lay there, savouring the sensuous feeling of the nightdress, and thinking over the wonderful day I had enjoyed as a girl. I had become very confused about things, but I had a firm conviction that part of me at least wanted very much to be a girl, and stay a girl always. Marianne moved close to me; she brushed against me, and then she took me in her arms. "I love you, Rosanne. It's been a wonderful day, and I'm so happy you were able to make your appearance and be a sister to Linda and me." Her words gave me a warm feeling inside, and I felt overcome by a desire to be feminine, and to be Marianne's sister. I snuggled close to her; "You have been so wonderful to me, and everything has felt so good today. I like being a girl, and I really love being a sister to you and Linda." "I'm so glad," said Marianne. "I just thought it might be fun to try. I do know a couple of men that like to bring out their feminine side, and something made me think that you might like to as well. I just wanted you to know that we would be understanding, and enjoy helping you, if you felt the same way. I really had no idea that it would work out so well. You're a lovely girl, and you can be Rosanne any time you feel you would like to."

1. Marianne Tells Her Version.

After we had got over the tragic loss of our parents, the three of us settled down into an agreeable life together. We were a family, unusual in its composition, but a family nonetheless, and we lived together happily. We got on very well with one another, and to some extent we followed our separate interests, though we also enjoyed one another's company. We were very fortunate in having been brought up to have quite liberal views, and we accepted our differences happily.

I had been given custody of my younger sister and brother, but I did not play the role of a parent in our family life. It simply wasn't necessary as each of us understood the need to help in the various household chores, and we were all mature enough to live with one another without any serious disagreements. My sister Linda was two years younger than me; she still had a teenager's enjoyment of life and sense of fun, but she was very mature in her understanding and acceptance of people. As she grew up, it became a pleasure for us to consult one another on matters of style and grooming, and we enjoyed our mutual feminine companionship. My brother Reg was two years younger than Linda, and as the only male in the family was the odd one out to some extent. That didn't seem to present a problem to any of us; we were all easygoing, and accepted the consequences of our gender differences as a matter of fact.

Like most people growing up, I had been quite preoccupied with questions of gender and sexuality. As a teenager I was quite interested in boys, and I also had made close friendships with other girls; we shared our intimate secrets with one another, and enjoyed a sense of developing femininity. Something inside me made me fascinated by the wide varieties of behaviour associated with gender, and I read avidly on the subject. This preoccupation didn't cause me any doubts or concerns about my place in the scheme of things, and in fact it confirmed my happy feeling of satisfaction in being female. I enjoyed life as a female, and I took great pleasure in many of the pursuits and interests traditionally assigned by our culture to the female. I developed a feminist view of things, nonetheless, but it gave me the security to be tolerant of others, and happy in the freedom I had to make my own choices. I was happy to feel myself 'feminine' and adopt many feminine values, firm in the belief that they were not inferior, but rather choices that gave me pleasure.

Like most girls of my age, I was quite interested in expressing my sexuality, but after some experience I began to develop a distaste for the traditional dating and mating games. I had a particularly close friend, Shiela, and we found our attitudes were very much in agreement; we were both interested in exploring the topics that interested us, and we often went out together. We visited places that were frequented by members of various subcultures, and met people with quite different lifestyles; I was particularly interested in those who might be described as belonging to 'sexual minorities', and Shiela and I got into deep discussion with the people we met. One of the places we found very interesting was a lesbian bar; it was pleasant, very unthreatening, and the women we met there were very friendly, and gave us an interesting new perspective on the whole question of gender and sexuality. I began to wonder about my own orientation; it wasn't a concern that bothered me, but I was curious. The lesbian lifestyle struck me as being quite pleasing in its symmetry; I had the strange feeling that I would rather like to be lesbian myself. I was not by any means convinced that I was, but I did enjoy the company of lesbians. My mind remained open on the question of my own orientation, but I did think that there was a distinct possibility that it might be lesbian.

There were also some males there. Shiela and I encountered two of them one evening, and to start off with we assumed they were women. There was something about them that excited my interest, and we got into a friendly conversation; it soon turned out that they were men, but they were dressed and represented themselves very convincingly as women. The conversation became more and more fascinating, and went on for the whole evening. I learned that there were people who had a strong desire to express themselves in a gender role opposite to that of their physical sex; there was a wide variation in the extent of this desire, and some of them were quite happy simply to go out once in a while and spend an evening in their gender of choice. Others, they told me, had an innate sense that their physical sex was wrong, and they felt a strong desire to live as members of the opposite gender; it was a fulltime preoccupation and they often sought surgery to make their bodies conform to their gender identification.

Something about these people -- they called themselves transgendered -- struck a chord in me. I understood their desire to be feminine, and admired their efforts to implement their desires. In a way they shared my delight in femininity, and I found it almost flattering that they wished to adopt values that I shared; I left that evening with a desire to learn more about people like them. I did some research in the library, and then found my way to personal accounts that were less clinical, and gave me a much better insight into their thoughts and feelings. When I visited the bar on subsequent occasions, I sought them out, and asked them more and more questions; I discovered that in a strange way they shared my ideas, and I found myself more and more in tune with them. Their desire to share what were to me the joys of femininity struck me as natural, and eminently understandable. Far from seeing them as perverse and unnatural, I found myself wondering why their desires were not shared by a much larger proportion of the male population.

As I learned more, and as my new transgendered friends talked to me quite candidly, I learned that things were more complicated than just making a choice of one's desired gender; it turned out that the desire to present themselves as feminine, and the subsequent dressing and adornment was often associated with intense sexual excitement; that was male, and expressed itself in a characteristic male way. For some transvestites this was the main motivation for their activities, but there were others for whom the effect was a hindrance in their desire to cross the boundary of gender. Sometimes they continued, after their sexual urge had been satisfied, and they were then able to attain a feminine state which was exciting in a different way; a state in which they experienced a quiet satisfaction in their innate sense of femininity. Their description of this was very similar to my own feelings of happiness and satisfaction in my femininity, and I began to understand the empathy I had for them.

Encountering these new friends, and learning about them, was just one of the many interesting perspectives on life and the human condition that Shiela and I gained. We discovered that there were innumerable places in the city to visit, and many fascinating subcultures, and we enjoyed our exploration.

I was getting myself ready one afternoon, before another evening out. Shiela and I planned to visit a new ethnic restaurant, and it seemed a good occasion to dress ourselves up. I had just bought a new girdle, and I thought it would help me look my best in one of my favourite dresses; I put it on and enjoyed the nice snug feeling it gave me. I was taking my time, and enjoying myself looking at the effect in the mirror; I had spent some time deciding what shade of stockings would be best, and finally picked out some lovely sheer dark ones to try. I had just got them on, and was fixing the last suspender, when I happened to look up and saw my brother Reg in the hallway. We were very casual at times, and I often left my bedroom door open. Reg looked at me with some interest, and I told him I was trying out a new girdle; he said it looked very nice, and went on his way to the lounge. He didn't seem too bothered by the incident, but I realised immediately that I should have been more circumspect. I thought for a while, and then put on a peignoir, and went to apologise to him.

I told him I shouldn't really have left my door open like that while I was dressing, but he didn't seem concerned or upset, and told me that I had looked very nice. We had very good rapport with one another, and were able to talk quite openly, so I asked him, out of curiosity, what his reaction was. I wondered if he might have found the sight exciting. His answer was quite surprising; he told me that the sight had started a train of thought about clothing, and he remarked on the significant difference between male and female garments; to my surprise he told me that he found himself quite curious about what it might be like to wear things like those he had seen on me. I thought about his comment, and was struck by its pertinence; we weren't just wearing things which differed in style and shape -- when I compared his normal attire of shirts and jeans with my girdle and stockings it was evident that there were significant differences in texture and the feelings induced, and I realised that there was a sexual and erotic symbolism to feminine lingerie. We might have had a fascinating discussion, but I was getting late for my date with Shiela, and had a lot more preparation to do.

Back in my room, working on my makeup, I was still thinking over what Reg had said. It also occurred to me that the difference he had remarked on only operated in one direction. It would have been perfectly acceptable, and not particularly remarkable in modern society, for me to wear clothes almost identical to those he was wearing; on the other hand, for him to wear a girdle and stockings, as I did, would be unthinkable. I immediately thought of my transvestite friends, and corrected myself: there were men to whom the idea of wearing feminine lingerie was very much 'thinkable'; they not only thought about it, they actually did it, and they got great satisfaction from the effect it had on them. I wondered if Reg might have similar feelings; if by some chance he did, I didn't want him to feel repressed and inhibited by the presence of Linda and myself. I decided to raise the question quite casually, and see what his reaction would be. I thought it would only be fair for him to have the same freedom in his choice of clothing that we had, and it struck me that it might be fun to assist him if he was interested.

A few days later, Shiela and I went to the lesbian bar again; we met our transvestite friends, and had an interesting evening in conversation with them. I went home resolved to find out just how far Reg's curiosity went, and the next evening at dinner I told Linda and Reg about the people we had met. I thought that Reg was more than usually interested, and I siezed the moment. I asked him if he was interested in trying women's clothing; I told him that if he was, he should feel free to do so, and that I would be happy to help him. Linda seemed taken with the idea, and she encouraged him to try wearing a pretty dress -- and as she put it, "all the proper things underneath." She told him that it would be great fun to have a new sister. I was quite taken by Reg's response, and gratified that he felt free to speak out about his feelings; it was a wonderful tribute to the rapport the three of us had, nurtured as it was by tolerant and accepting attitudes. He responded directly to Linda, and said he would like the idea of trying on feminine clothing; he even said he liked the idea of being one of three sisters, instead of the odd one out.

The weather was rainy and miserable a couple of weekends later; it seemed like an ideal time for Reg to try some feminine clothing and see how he took to it. He was ready and quite eager to try, so I sent him off to have a bath and get himself ready. I asked Linda to come and help me get my room ready; there wasn't really too much tidying up to do, but I wanted to talk to her. "Shiela and I have been chatting to those two transvestites," I said, "and I have also done some reading. The whole thing is really quite strange; the men like to 'present' themselves as women, as they put it, and they enjoy all the nice feminine things we do, but sometimes it has quite a powerful effect on them, and they get very excited sexually -- as males. I think that's quite likely to happen to poor Reg; he'll be enjoying himself, but he will find that he's worked up, and will feel very awkward about it in the presence of his two sisters." Linda was listening to what I said with great interest; "It's too bad we all have such hangups about things like that," she said. "I think sex is natural, and I don't really see why we should worry so much about it." "The problem is that we have all been taught that it's something private, just for people in love with one another," I said. "There's a real problem in how we deal with it. I honestly think the best thing to do would be for me to help him relieve himself; I hope that won't bother him too much." "I don't see why you shouldn't," said Linda; "I hope that it won't stop him enjoying trying out the clothes." "I don't think it will," I said; "once his male reaction is taken care of he'll probably want to continue, and he will be able to relax, and really get into a feminine space. But to make it easier for him, if he does get excited, I'll wave you away, like this; then you can leave us for ten minutes or so. I'll try and play the helpful elder sister, and he may be able to deal with it." "OK," said Linda, "but I do want to be there when our new sister appears!"

We got into a discussion then about what might be the best things for Reg to try, and starting with the basics, the first question was what foundation would work best. At that point Reg came in, and told us quite eagerly that he was ready to be the third sister. We started on his transformation, and we did have to pause to deal with an intense state of sexual excitement, but after his release we continued and he was finally dressed in a lovely party dress with a bouffant skirt, over a crinoline petticoat. Linda got her blonde wig for him, and she took him off to demonstrate her skill with makeup. He looked just beautiful when everything was done, and both Linda and I really felt that we had another sister. He seemed to like the role, and fell into it quite naturally; we told him we couldn't call our young sister Reg, and suggested he should decide on a suitable name. He chose Rosanne and it seemed very appropriate. Linda and I changed into party dresses too, and we made dinner into a real fun occasion. We all thought that we should spend the evening doing something suitable for three sisters, and there was a fascinating program on television on the history of female clothing in this century. Linda and I both wanted to see it, and Rosanne joined us, and was obviously extremely interested; when it was over, we continued chatting about the program, and female clothing, and Rosanne joined in. It was a wonderful evening, and feeling that we were now three sisters seemed to bring us even closer than we normally were.

Eventually bedtime arrived, and it became fairly clear that Rosanne was in no hurry to revert to being our brother, so I suggested that I would find a nightie for her, and she could go to bed as Rosanne. She responded with such enthusiasm to the idea, that I was overcome by my feelings for her; there did seem to be something magic about her happy acceptance of her role as our sister and it touched me very deeply. I felt an urge to make some special gesture to express my acceptance of her; it suddenly came to me that it would be a wonderful idea for us to go to bed together as sisters, so we could snuggle together, and enjoy our femininity together. I hesitated before suggesting it, because it did occur to my more rational mind that what I was suggesting might easily be misinterpreted. I couldn't resist asking her, though, and she agreed; she seemed to be quite touched by the idea, and it was quite clear that she took it in all innocence.

Linda had an early morning, and had already gone to bed, but she had helped Rosanne to remove her makeup, and gave her the wigstand, knowing that the wig would be worn until the last possible minute. Rosanne came into my bedroom with me, and we helped one another getting our dresses off, in true sisterly fashion. When we had also taken our girdles and stockings off, Linda was just wearing her panties, and I helped her into the nightie. I still had my panties and bra on; I thought I would keep the panties just for Rosanne's ease of mind, but suddenly realised the implications of taking off my bra. After a moment's thought, I decided to treat her as my sister, and told her what I was going to do. When I stood before her, just wearing my panties, she looked at me in wistful admiration. She told me I was beautiful, and added somewhat sheepishly that she felt envious. That made me wonder how far her feminine identification would proceed, and I told her that we could talk about the possibilities later. She kept her wig on until just the moment before I put the light out, and then we lay in bed together. I felt very tender and affectionate towards her; she really was being a sister to me, and she needed acceptance and nurturing in that role. I snuggled close to her, and cradled her in my arms; we chatted quietly about being girls, and her feelings, as we gradually drifted off to sleep.

When I woke in the morning, I heard Linda up and about, and then I heard the door as she left. Rosanne was still sleeping quietly by my side, and I wondered how she would react when she awoke in these unusual circumstances. I resolved to deal with the situation in a matter-of-fact way, and accept whatever she felt easiest doing. She woke soon, and looked at me; "Marianne?" she said, without too much surprise. I kissed her; "Hi, little sister! You were Rosanne yesterday evening, and Linda and I had a wonderful time with you; it seemed like a nice idea for us to stay together as sisters for a while." "It was a wonderful idea," she said; "I enjoyed the evening so much, and I didn't want to be let down too quickly. I think I'll have to go back to being Reg, for now, but the whole experience has given me some things to think about." "Linda's gone out already," I said, "so you can go back to your room wearing the nightie, and take things easily. I'll get up and get some breakfast organised."

I put on a housecoat over my nightdress, and went into the kitchen. I wanted some coffee, and I started some toast for Reg. He appeared fairly soon, back to being my brother; I thought things could have been much worse -- he was a wonderful brother. "I guess you can call me Reg, now," he said smiling. "So how's my brother Reg this morning?" "Doing very well, but Rosanne's still there, and I am a bit mixed up; I started out just being curious about things, but I seem to have got into them fairly deep. It was more than just a fun thing to do; it felt right somehow, and I think it's a part of me now that I won't want to let go." "Think things through," I said, "and take your time. And if you want to talk about it, I'd be happy to chat. If you want to be Rosanne, any time, that's fine too; I would be more than happy to chat to her." "Thanks. You're a wonderful big sister." We had our breakfast together, and then we went our separate ways; the day proceeded very much as usual.

Linda had a class early in the morning, but she was home not long after lunchtime. I thought it would be best to tell her what had happened; it crossed my mind, not without wishful anticipation, that it might happen again. She helped me by starting the conversation; "That was a lovely evening we had, yesterday; I thought it was wonderful to meet Rosanne, and have such a fun time with her." "It certainly was. I was quite struck by how she adopted the role, and fit into it, almost naturally. She certainly didn't want to let it go when it came to bedtime." "I know," said Linda; "it's too bad I had to get to bed so early; it would have been a good evening to stay up late and really chat. Did you and Rosanne carry on after I'd gone to bed?" "Yes, a little. She was so happy as Rosanne, but I had a feeling she was just a little insecure, and I felt a strong urge to be supportive and comforting; I really had to be the kind big sister." "You do that naturally," said Linda, "and that's one of the reasons we all get on so well together." "I don't know quite how it happened," I said, "but I was really overcome by my feelings towards her. The fact is I asked her if she would like to come to bed with me, so we could snuggle together like sisters."

Linda didn't seem the least horrified, or even surprised. "That was nice of you," she said; "I remember the time when I used to love sharing your big bed, and snuggling up to you." "Yes, it was a way of expressing our close relationship as sisters. But Rosanne is also Reg, who is not only male, he's my brother!" "But it was Rosanne who went to bed with you," said Linda. "I think that's very nice." "You're a very nice person yourself, Linda," I said. "I think you do understand. It was completely innocent; I had a young sister who felt just a little insecure in her role, and needed a little tender loving care. I was so taken with her, that I wanted to care for her." "I can't imagine anything nicer," Linda said; "it makes me want to have my turn too!" "I'd be happy to share and share alike," I said, "but at this stage in your development you are quite secure in your femininity. Rosanne is still feeling her way; I think she will be here again, and I think I might have the same impulse." "Follow it," said Linda. "It makes me think that it might be fun for all three of us to snuggle together one evening, but maybe that wouldn't work too well." She was very likely right, but the idea did have a strange appeal.