Becoming Michele -- boys wearing dresses

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Date Posted: 19:39:05 09/21/11 Wed
Author: Michele
Subject: Becoming Michele

To everyone, here is all of Part 1.

I've changed the post title because without reading Sis's post the sarcasm would be lost. Its unfortunate that a lot of additional information is lost in the replies. It's very long but I left in my old signature breaks so that it can be read in chunks.

Michele

There are lots of relationships that sisters can have with each other. Some sisters hate each other, some merely tolerate each other. Most cases sisters love each other and are close, but in rare instances sisters are so close they are of one mind and spirit together. I consider myself one of those lucky few.

I don't really remember a lot of what I was thinking or feeling the first time Mom made me dress. I remember that I was humiliated but the biggest thing was the absolute dread that my sister was going to laugh at me when she saw. I know that Mom was as surprised as I was by her reaction. With eyes wide with wonder and a huge smile of joy, not ridicule, she said “Michael, you're my sister. I prayed I could have a sister.” I think my initial reaction was “huh?” We were sent to her room to play and we did, I remember Candyland and a Go Fish game. I mostly remember me feeling angry and pouting, with her saying “Oh Michael don't worry about it, this is fun.” The second time was much the same. Then came my naked weekend. I think she was almost as embarrassed as I was, at first. My room was padlocked closed and fortunately or not it was a rainy and cloudy weekend so Sis was in the whole time. Mom was quite furious with me and we could hear her yelling and ranting at me from Sis's bedroom. I was thoroughly mortified and crying. Sis said Shhh, Mom is going to get madder, lets play mousetrap. Mom did calm down because I was taking my punishment well, thanks to Sis, but she was aloof all weekend to the dirty boy who refused nice things.

Believe it or not by Saturday afternoon I almost forgot I was naked with my little sister. At least until late in the afternoon after a marathon board game session she looked at me with melt me eyes and asked if she could touch my wee wee. ( I promised not to tell this, I lied) Looking back - this was hilarious in its innocence - we both crack up even today when we reminisce. All it was was a little poke and a wide eyed “ooh”. I was very aware of my nakedness for the rest of the weekend. As you can tell my sister's cruelty knows no bounds.

I was about three months since the first time but after that weekend I was dressed as a girl pretty much every other weekend. There were so many times that they all blend together. After naked weekend a funny thing happened, I didn't really mind so much being dressed with my sister. Oh I still hated it all in general, was embarrassed and humiliated by Mom. But being with Sis wasn't part of the punishment. Before naked week all of our playing was board or card games, lots of fun but nothing girlish. After that weekend though Sis started to get me playing other things. When I balked she would say please be my real sister just for this afternoon. Sis is incredibly charismatic then and now. Perfect strangers get a thrill to see her smile. She can wrap anyone around her finger without even realizing it. I gave in, I always gave in just to see the happiness in her face. We played with her dolls, we played house, we played with Barbies, we had tea parties, we even baked cookies together with Mom. At first it was embarrassing, but every time after a little while her happiness infected me and I was enjoying myself also. In just a couple of months it wasn't even embarrassing anymore. I have never felt embarrassed with my sister since. My boy friends eventually stopped coming around because Mom always made it so that I was unavailable to them. She finally told them that I was playing dollies with my sister, that pretty much stopped them completely. Thing is it was true, I was playing dollies (we called it playing house) with my sister and I wasn't even dressed that day, not only that we were both mommies. A point made quite clear by Mom when I complained that she sent my friends away again and had the nerve to tell them the truth! Since I was dumb enough to wise mouth Mom I had to get dressed. So there I sat kind of glassy eyed with Sis and she said said “Well you are playing a mommy.” We both erupted into a giggling fit that lasted at least 10 minutes. At least half of which was observed by Mom, I bet you could hear the gears starting to turn in her brain.

Can you see the pattern of my sister's evil manipulation?

Michele

As I said, after the early months I never really felt embarrassed with Sis. I think Mom saw this as the good thing that it was and never really involved Sis in any humiliating activities with me. For example she took me out shopping for girls clothes dressed normally a lot. We would spend hours going store to store having me try on dresses, holding panties and nighties up to me, and trying on shoes. Mom announcing to anyone how her silly boy liked pretty things, only to buy one or two items so that we could do it all over again the next day. Mom always made other arrangements for Sis, so she never saw me crying silently in the car between stops or a few times people laughing out loud at me or my utter broken humiliation during the time that some strange woman was just so delighted with the whole idea she spent the next three hours loudly petting and cooing at me while picking the most feminine and childish dresses and outfits for me to try on and come out into the stores to model. I became a spectacle, with a crowd hovering around just watching the show. She was incredibly gross. There is a special place reserved for her and I hope its hot. Her nuttiness and my humiliation made Mom's day. Mom twisted the knife by asking for her phone number so we could invite her along on our next trip. On the way home I was hysterical, crying in abject terror at the prospect and begging Mom that I would do anything but please don't call that woman. She said that if I could be a good girl for the next two weeks she would tear up the phone number. That was my first extended sentence. Mom tore up the number, it was easy being a good girl with Sis. The point of this paragraph is that my sister became a refuge, I knew that if I was with her nothing really bad would be inflicted on me.

But that's also not to say that Sis wasn't there for some of the worst parts. She wasn't part of it though, she was my support, some things I don't think I could have gotten through without her with me.

Sometime after my two week stint we were all at dinner and something about school came up and it turned into a vigorous family discussion. It got heated and we were interrupting each other and talking over each other, then suddenly Mom just stopped and looked at me. “Why Michael,” she said, “you're acting just like your sister.” I must have looked scared because I didn't know what was coming but I could guess. She stood up with her plates, said “no, no Michael” she bent and kissed my forehead “ that's a good thing” Then she walked out of the room. She told me many years later when I asked that it was the expressions on my face, how I was waving my hands at the two of them and even the words I used and the tone of my voice. Combined with how I played and acted with my sister it was the final piece that made her decide about my future.

The next Saturday was my first day out as Michele. There was a big fair and all week Mom built up our excitement, especially Sis, the petting zoo and fashion show, rides etc. On Saturday morning Mom said our clothes for the day were laid out on the ironing board. A cute white polka dot dress for Sis and a lovely yellow pattern print dress for...OMG. I couldn't do it, I totally refused. Surprisingly Mom wasn't mad at all, she say well we won't go then. Then she looked at Sis and said “Unless you can convince your sister to get dressed” and she left us. This was truly evil mastermind stuff. This is where Sis gets the idea that she was in charge of my feminization. In some ways yes but not really how some of you might imagine. She never ordered me to do anything. She never did anything but be truthful to Mom about my behavior. Most times she made me sound better than I was. She really wanted to go to the fair and something as silly as me not wanting to be her sister that day was going to stop her. She pulled out all her big guns, pouting, puppy dog eyes, even tears. (that did it) She convinced me to let her help me look my best and see what I thought. So we grabbed the dresses and went to her room. The biggest challenge was my hair. I hadn't been to a barber for eight months or so, so it was pretty long. Sis fussed and fussed finally asking Mom to help. Mom made me ask too. We did each others nails (not the first time) and she asked mom to put a light coat of mascara on me to bring out my eyes. Mom made me ask for that too. Have you all read the stories where a boy looks in the mirror and sees a pretty girl? Bullshit, in real life what you see is yourself, a boy, in a dress - at least that first time. Now the fact of the matter is I did look pretty good, I know this because Mom took a lot of pictures that day. What I see in the pictures is an average to slightly pretty young girl dressed very nicely but certainly not out of place. But you couldn't tell me that that day. Well, Sis did tell me I looked fine and that everything would be all right. Deep down I knew that she wouldn't lie to me. I went to the fair, they couldn't very well call me Michael so I became Michele. Thirty to forty five minutes in, I forgot completely about how I was dressed and I had a blast with Sis. It was the best time I had in a long time. I was showered with affection from Mom because I was such a good girl and from Sis because I was the best sister ever.

Michele

That is what basically became the method Mom used to get me dressed more and more. At the beginning it was half the time or so, it gradually increased to eighty or even ninety percent of the time I was dressed because I decided to, nobody “made” me. The choices were go and do something with your sister, or just stay home and do chores or be bored or even worse do this as Michael and be humiliated. There were always choices and the better choice was always to Michele. For example shortly after the fair, a week or so, Mom said her and I had shopping to do on Saturday. I was beside myself. Memories of the crazy lady were still raw. Mom was thoughtful for a minute and said well, if you'd like to have your sister come along too, we could all get dressed up nice and do some shopping, (your Sis needs some things too), then we'll see a movie and have dinner out. Sis was absolutely thrilled. It wasn't a hard choice, they never seemed to be at the time. I knew exactly what she meant as soon as she said it. The fair wasn't so bad, hey I had fun. OK.

What I didn't choose to remember was the two nights after the fair I couldn't sleep, because I felt so guilty that I would go out as a girl and not mind it. I even enjoyed myself. That would make me think of how I liked playing with Sis. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I can't really describe it but there was a painful pit in my stomach and I cried both nights. This turmoil is what made me resist for so long. I started to think of myself as just a little sissy and I hated it. I wasn't quite eleven yet and I didn't understand how I was manipulated or know how to express it. It got better when I realized that I was a real sister. This is where it sounds even stranger. I accepted, knew and was happy that I was my Sis's sister for a long time before I accepted, knew and was happy that I was a girl. For some reason I separated the two. The first came easily, by the time I was eleven and a half I'd say I was fully a sister, all the time no matter how I was dressed, but it was another few years before I knew I wanted to be a girl all the time that I just wanted to get rid of all the boy stuff.

So we went shopping together, first thing Saturday morning we left early so I could get my hair done. It wasn't a big salon experience, Mom always had her hair done by a friend who had a one chair salon in her home as a small business. It was a embarrassing having the two of them fussing my hair this way and that wondering what would look best. I couldn't have been too bad because it didn't leave that much of an impression on me. I do remember my Sis watching with a big smile from the waiting chair. Her smiling makes me smile. The rest of the day was the same pattern as the fair. Mom always seemed to make sure that my time as Michele was pleasant, fun, and normal. Maybe its that Mom's are more involved with their daughters whenever they do things together. But Mom was different to me as Michele, more touching, eye contact, really listening. The same way she always treated Sis. It was the first of many nice times we had, shopping together as a family. It became one of my favorite activities. At the end of the day she said, Michele, would you like to do this again next week? I said yes right away. I also attended the last month of school with very stylish hair.

Now for some the really hard things that I could never have gotten through without Sis. Summer started and I didn't have many things that still fit from last year, boy wise, and Mom had no intention of buying me more. I sure had a nice selection of tops, skirts, capri's, shorts and of course dresses. Sis and I also borrowed each others things on an as needed basis. So I spent more and more time as Michele. In fact from the beginning of that summer on Sis never called me Michael again. Mom only called me Michael if I was fully dressed in boys clothes, in other words not very often.

One Saturday we were out window shopping together when Mom went over to the make up counter and started asking the salesperson about this and that for her girls starting kits, blah blah. Sis was fascinated by the displays and I was taking a not very boyish interest it also. Sis's enthusiasm about anything is infectious. Anyways Mom bought us a really nice make-up combo kit. We had played with make up together before but all we had was a couple of lipsticks, 2 or 3 polishes and so on. This kit was the bomb. Dozens of powders in every shade, lipsticks, mascara, foundations, eyeliners and brushes. Lots and lots of brushes and sponges and GLITTER! SPARKLES! I have to say that I was almost as excited as Sis. Maybe just as excited, picture two preteen girls squealing with delight. Looking back at this later in the week made me as suicidal as an eleven year old could possibly be.

When we got home Mom said it was too late to open the kit, but if we wanted we could have it in the morning and make ourselves as pretty as we could for her. The next morning was a blast. We dressed in what we thought were our prettiest dresses, then changed, then changed again. All the while playing with the brushes and trying different looks as best we could. It was a morning that any girl would love. What we didn't notice was that Mom was in the kitchen cooking a big Sunday meal. Shortly after noon Sis and I came walking hand in hand out of her room looking what we thought was our absolute best. Mom was waiting in the living room for us, with Nan, Gramps, and one of my Aunts. If there is a hell, I just walked into it. They were all speechless, I thought I would throw up. Auntie recovered first and said aren't you both just the prettiest girls I've ever seen. She got up and gave us a hugs. Gramps looked at Mom and said What's going on here? Nan hushed him and looked at Mom and said Don't you think we need to talk? I hadn't uttered a word, and Sis still holding my hand was happy to see them and walked over and gave Nan and Gramps a kiss. Sis looked at me expectantly and I kissed them both too and mumbled hello. Mom told us to go back to the room and that they were talking and that she would call us for dinner.

When we got back to Sis's room I freaked. I cried and Sis held me and assured me that everything would be OK. I said they'd hate and so on. She assured me they wouldn't. I remember her tenderly wiping my face and bringing me to the mirror. She said “Sis look how pretty you are. They'll love you just like I love you.” By this time I was used to seeing myself as Michele and except for the puffy eyes and streaked make up I did look pretty good. But what Sis did over the next half hour or so is really amazing. She washed off my face for me and redid my make up as best she could , even better than before. The whole while she talked about how pretty I was, how she loved me, how much fun we always have, how I laughed at the way this brush tickled, she talked about us and what I mean to her. She was only nine, but it was the most grownup pep talk I have ever heard. She made me, for at least a little while, really like Michele and who we were together. She ended with “Please don't be ashamed of being my sister” It made it sound like a rejection of her and I could never reject her.

Well I went out for dinner. Gramps had a stunned glassy look the whole time and didn't say much. Nan and Auntie spoke to me in that higher pitched voice that people use with toddlers or mental defectives. I felt pretty bad but Sis held my hand under the table. Auntie asked about the new make up kit and how Mom told them how excited I was to get it. Mom had shown the pictures from the fair which of course showed me enjoying myself immensely, so we talked about that. The thing is Mom never flat out lied about anything. She had a way of framing everything just the way she wanted. There certainly was no shortage of times over the last 2 months or so that I had willingly chosen to be Michele. Heck, almost every day with Sis. I couldn't deny that I had fun at the fair, or my reaction with Sis the day before, or for that matter how I couldn't wait for morning to come so that me and Sis could be our most pretty for Mom. See, that's the thing, all my relatives just believed that this was what I wanted and was doing it on my own. They believed that a “real” boy could never have fun doing these things. A “real” boy would rather be hit by a train. My actions were proof enough that they were right. Looking back I agree.

Two nights later another of my aunts came over to see for herself. I was dressed as Michael for a change and when she directed the conversation towards the fair and Sunday. I knew what was coming and I denied everything, I lied. I said I hated the fair and that I never wanted to use the make up and so on. I have never ever before or since seen the anger and rage on Mom's face as that night. Even Sis was shocked at how I responded. Mom just said “Michael you are a dirty little liar” and sent me off. That night was my first punishment session with Mom. While I think there are better ways she could have punished me, I know I deserved it. Afterward Sis comforted me and asked me why I lied. I told her that I was boy and I wasn't supposed to be enjoying these things and that they would all hate me and think I was crazy. She said, no I was her sister that we love each other as only sisters can. She knew I loved being her sister, so why do I care what others think. We talked a little while and she did cheer me up some. The next day I made sure my hair was really nice and I looked good and I apologized very sincerely to both of them.

Over the next few weeks we hit the rounds with all the relatives and it really wasn't that bad. I guess. They knew what was coming so I was more of a display piece than a surprise. For years they treated me fine but acted like they were humoring someone with a mental problem. Then the worst day of my life occurred. Someone had called Dad. I don't know what they expected, maybe that his sudden appearance overflowing with masculinity would change the course of my life. I don't like my father, I certainly don't love him. He's a miserable excuse who lives a ruined life and never knew that the best thing he ever did was conceive me and Sis. He never loved either of us. At best we were inconvenient and Mom was just someone he could count on sponging money off. Anyone with a shred of humanity in them automatically loves my sister, they can't help themselves. He has no humanity.

But I was only eleven, I didn't know these things. I thought there must be real good reasons that he could only come to see us once a year if that. It wasn't his fault. He was my Dad, I looked up to him. I had put him on a pedestal. I wanted him to be proud of me.

Mom didn't plan it, she was furious when we arrived at my aunts and found out he was there. He was there and so was Michele. The look of disgust on his face was like a kick in the groin to me. He spit out questions like the words tasted like shit in his mouth. I was honest, it always got me through before. Yes, I thought I looked pretty today. Yes, we're sisters. Yes I had fun doing X. He asked more and made rude comments to me. I tried to give him a hug and he pushed me away. He called me an F-g Faggot and left the room. Sis had started crying about half way through my ordeal. I couldn't breathe. Literally. I kept sucking in air and not exhaling until I collapsed onto the floor. Mom carried me out to the car and we left. I have never forgiven him and never will.

Michelle

I don't remember the ride home or being put into my bed. The world had shifted under my feet and I cried until I slept then I cried again. I didn't want to be alone so Sis helped me into her bed. I wasn't physically hurt but I was so emotionally destroyed my legs were like jello. I slept with Sis in her bed for the next three nights. The fourth night I was in my own bed and I woke screaming in terror. It took Mom minutes to finally get me to calm down and then at least a half hour of holding me before I could lie back down. I don't know why. The next day Mom moved my bed into Sis's room. For the next week I would fall asleep in my bed and wake in hers. I don't remember ever waking up and moving. We shared a room for the next three years. I can hardly describe the comfort that having Sis gave me over the first few days, We held each other and cried for what seemed like hours at a time. She had experienced it too, and her false idea's of our father were destroyed also. We talked and hugged and listlessly played board games and it eventually passed. Not completely, not ever, but enough. Mom was great too, she did everything she could to comfort and support me. But Sis was my anchor.

That horrible experience didn't change what I was doing. If anything it may have pushed me further. In my eleven year old brain somehow I knew that the last thing I would do is conform to his expectations. Of course, that's just me now rationalizing. Even the day after, when I changed out of my pajamas I put on my favorite top that I had picked out with Sis a couple of weeks before, my favorite denim skirt and some red jelly slippers. Mom told me sometime after that she was surprised but very proud of me when she saw me that morning. I still had tears in me so I cried with Mom and cried with Sis. I didn't speak much all day but they both talked to me a lot and I was secure in their comfort. I think it really is that I felt that my father hated me, not me in a skirt and blouse, but me. Putting on my favorite top and skirt made me feel better. Maybe its that I could look at them and feel them on me and associate them with fun times. Maybe its because they made me feel closer to Sis and Mom. Every woman knows that if you want to change your mood, change your outfit. I'm not sure if it works that way for guys, I wouldn't know.

Its very easy to generalize when writing something like this. I don't have an editor or fact checker and sometimes the way something sounds when I write it strikes me as right but isn't quite the way it was. I'm not trying to purposefully embellish, I'm just trying to tell my story in the most compelling and emotionally true way I can and keep it readable. An example of this is how I've said all my relatives humored me as if I was someone who went around claiming to be Napoleon. This isn't true of all of them. I had a couple of aunts, an uncle, and cousins who from the start treated me as their niece or cousin Michele pretty much from this point on. The second day after my experience with Dad one of my aunts came to see how I was doing. For me it was a better day than the the one before, with me and Sis only crying together a few times as we talked about what happened, working through our hurt and, by now, anger. Mom was trying to get things a little more back to normal so we did some of our chores around the house and stuff, then in afternoon Sis and I played with our hair and make up. It was silly play and I look back at it fondly because it took both our minds off of everything. So when my aunt showed up we both looked like a cross between Raggedy-Anne and Shirley Temple. My aunt truly enjoyed the sight of us, in a good way. She hugged us both and took me on her lap and told me that she loved me and spoke a little of what happened and how sorry she was that I was hurt so terribly. She said a lot of the things Mom had said to me, it was very comforting.

She came back the next evening and gave me a present. It was an incredibly cute and soft teddy bear with angel wings. She said she was an angel like me and she would help me feel better. Now there were a couple dolls and stuffed animals on my bed as decorations but they were Sis's. This was mine. I can't describe how much she meant to me and means to me today. I slept with her for at least the next three years and on and off for years after. Once in a while I still do. To this day she is always prominently displayed in my room. I am closest to my “Aunt B” than anyone in my extended family, even today.

If you haven't figured it out yet this isn't the story of a boy who was forced into being a girl. My story is about a girl who was awakened and through both tough and deep filial love emerged from a confused and fearful little boy. If things could have gone on from here in the same fashion, if that summer had lasted forever I would have been very happy to be Michele. But life isn't like that and school started again.

Michele

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Replies:

Re: Becoming Michele -- Katie, 03:44:51 09/22/11 Thu
- Re: Becoming Michele -- Michele, 08:36:32 09/22/11 Thu
  - Re: Becoming Michele -- Katie, 00:34:15 09/23/11 Fri
    - Re: Becoming Michele -- Michele, 14:55:06 09/23/11 Fri