Magic Dress – Michelle Pt. 01

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I didn’t do well enough at school to go to university, so found myself eighteen years old and unemployed. I wasn’t physically strong enough to do some jobs and was too shy for others, so after God knows how many failed job applications it was suggested that I could do voluntary work in a charity shop to get some experience.

This proved to be a happy time for me. Most of the volunteers were women, and the men that came along were all kind and wanted to help people. On Saturdays there were sometimes younger women and I got to socialize with them in a way I had missed at my boys’ grammar school. I had never had a girlfriend or even a date. However, one of the best things is that what we mainly sold was women’s clothes, which I found I liked. I increasingly wished I could wear them. After a while the women would discuss new stock with me, and even seemed to respect my judgment. I got to learn the technical terms and had some idea of what went together. The process was imperceptible but ended up with women talking with me like an equal. It was almost as if I was a woman too, and I loved it.

I began to watch women and how they walked. In the shop I selected an imaginary outfit, and later in my bedroom pretended I was walking out in it. Sometimes walking behind a woman, I would try to match my gait to hers. Soon I had the habit of smaller steps and held myself differently. Eventually I realised that people in town were not taking any notice of the puny youth in his dull clothes. I walked for a few yards at a time, then increased until I could walk a hundred yards before my nerve broke. In flat shoes of course. Finally I could put my mind in girl mode and walked at night in deserted streets in my boring man’s clothes until I saw someone. I also practised their gestures in my bedroom and held imaginary conversations with the women at work.

I did find a couple of items for myself: a smart jacket which my mother loved and a frilly shirt which she did not. I said it was New Romantic like pop stars wore (to which my Dad snorted “Bloody poofs!”) and I might wear it with the jacket when going out for an evening, at which they both raised their eyebrows and looked at each other.

Later Mum came to me looking worried and said rather hesitantly “Mikey, I’m just wondering. Are you… er, would you… er, I mean, do you think you might be gay?”

“No!” I said honestly and somewhat emphatically.

“You don’t fancy men, then?”

I shuddered at the thought. I had never liked my own appendage and its independence. The idea of engaging with men and their big hairy cocks was revolting. I mean, women were so nice, of course men liked them, and lesbianism seemed very reasonable. But what benefit did women get from men? Ungainly coarse creatures with their annoying projections. I don’t know how she managed to sleep with my Dad. I suppose if you wanted children that Bostancı Yabancı Escort was the price women had to pay.

I must have convinced her, because she smiled and gave a sigh of relief. “You do like girls then?”

“Oh yes!” I replied with honest enthusiasm. I liked girls and their clothes. If only I could be a girl and wear pretty dresses.

It was my birthday not long after, and when I came home I found a large plain envelope on my pillow with the words “With love to Mikey from Mum”. When I opened it, it contained a girlie magazine, which she must have got from the top shelf of a newsagent. I realised what an effort this must have been, and how much she loved me.

Even by the standards of the day it would have been considered pretty tame. No open legs or actual sex. Just a set of girls in a sort of striptease sequence: several poses fully dressed, then in underwear and finally naked, but in fairly modest poses, with legs together or crossed so that the most you could see was a bit of pubic hair. It was perfect! I devoured the pictures and adored them in all stages. I could imagine myself in something similar to the clothes. Obviously I did not have the figure for the bras and basques, but I could like the outfits and just admire the naked pictures for their beauty.

I went and hugged Mum. “Best birthday present ever,” I said. “I do love you, Mum.” I realised that I ought to say that a bit more often.

Unfortunately I was too shy to buy another magazine, but I sometimes put on the shirt, which was nicer than any of my other clothes. However, I never went out in it because I never went out, not in that way. Occasionally Mum would mention that someone she knew was a nice girl, but nothing happened.

+ – + – + – + – +

One day in the shop there was a green dress which somehow caught my eye. The others agreed it was a nice dress, and we put it for sale at a higher price. I didn’t immediately realise it, but I didn’t want to sell it at all. When a customer looked interested I would suggest that another suited her better and was also cheaper. However, I was also terrified that it would be sold when I was not there.

One day one of the senior volunteers, an area manager, came in to discuss matters and spotted the dress. “Oh my God!” she said. “That’s magic!”

“I don’t think it suits you,” I said quickly and automatically. “I think this one might be better,” and pulled another from the rack. She looked at me strangely.

“OK,” she said. “Hold this,” and she passed the green dress to me. I held it to me protectively, while she examined the other. Then she got me to hold each of them up to myself while she examined them.

“You might be right,” she said. “You’ve got good judgment.”

She turned to the shop supervisor, and said she wanted a word in the back room, telling me not to sell Bostancı Yeni Escort either dress. About fifteen minutes later they came back.

“Well, Michael,” she said. “You show unusual talent, and I’ve been told what an excellent worker you are, especially since we’re not paying you anything. Now the charity does have some paid positions, and I would to discuss that possibility with you, this afternoon if your manager can spare you.”

“Of course,” was the response.

“Right,” she continued. “I am going to buy both dresses, ring them up for me, Michael.” My heart sank, but I complied, and carefully folded them and placed them in a bag, automatically asking if she wanted the hangers.

“No thank you,” she said. “You can carry them to the car for me, and bring your coat or bag if you’ve got one. We can go and discuss your future.”

We got into the car, and she said “It’s too far to the office, so I thought we could discuss it over a cup of tea at my house. Of course if you are afraid of going to the home of strange woman you don’t know we can go to a café, but I think we would both be more relaxed in private. My husband should be home soon, so I won’t be able to take advantage of you.”

I was confused but agreed.

We went to her home, where she said I should call her Kathy. We had a cup of tea, and she asked me about my life, qualifications etc., then said “Yes, I am sure you are suitable. We might even be able to move you on to something more challenging and better paid in the not too distant future. Now wait a minute, as I have something to show you.”

She went upstairs and I wondered for a moment if she was going to undress and try to seduce me, but instead she came back with a green dress identical to the one she had just bought!

“Surprise!” she smiled. “I’ve already got one. The one I bought is a present.”

“Oh,” I said quietly. “For whom?”

“My God!” she exclaimed. “You say ‘whom’! How did you not go to university?”

“Anyway,” she continued. “This dress is a present for you, if you want it, and I think you do. I’ve seen that longing look before. I guess you’ve wanted to dress like a girl for a while, but not managed it. Now the magic dress will help you like it helped my husband.”

My mind was trying to compose sentences of denial, while my mouth refused to work. Then it struck me. Her husband?

She read my thoughts, as my mouth was not working. “Yes, that’s right. My husband puts on dresses at the weekend and has never been happier. I think you should at least try it. Ah, excellent timing! I think I hear him now.”

A few minutes later a man in a smart business suit came in, and she introduced us.

“Michael, this is my husband Maurice. He’s a manager at an engineering works. Maurice, meet Michael, and look what he’s got. Show him, Michael.”

I held up the Bostancı Masaj Salonu dress.

“Wow!” he said. “Another magic dress! Yvette has to see this! I’ll send her down as soon as I can.” He hurried away.

“I’ll make another pot of tea,” said Kathy, “and some Earl Grey for Yvette.”

She talked about other things as if the conversation had never occurred (but never actually made the tea) and then I heard someone coming down the stairs. An attractive woman entered the room. “Michael, meet my best friend Yvette. Yvette, this is Michael, who needs some help with his first dress.”

I did a double take. She was the same as the man I had seen. My thoughts must have been obvious.

“Yes, Michael,” said Yvette in a voice much softer than Maurice. “You can choose to be a girl. I think Michelle would very much like that dress.” Michelle! I had never thought of that. I could be Michelle!

I was in a daze. Somehow I was taken upstairs and undressed to my underpants. “We’ll leave those for now,” said Yvette. Then that lovely dress was going onto my body!

I looked at myself in the mirror and feeling I find hard to describe washed over me. It included a lot of relief and some real joy. I was in a pretty dress at last!

I moved around, feeling the dress.

“Now,” said Kathy, “we just need a little up the top.” I did not resist as they took down the top and fitted a padded bra on me. The dress looked really good now. They lifted the skirt and I saw my underpants. “Now wouldn’t you prefer these, Michelle?” she asked encouragingly, holding some lovely lace panties. I nodded and the horrible underpants were gone. I was still in socks, but accepted their removal and a pair of tights. This was a new feeling, and one I very much liked.

The girl in the mirror was beginning to look really good. I had what you might call effeminate features, which were now a source of pleasure. “I think you’d like a bit of makeup,” said Kathy, and I nodded happily.

It was not the careful makeup I got later, but ten minutes or so, and the transformation was complete.

There in the mirror was a very nice girl named Michelle! Me! I walked around. At last walking like a girl in a dress because I was a girl!

Yvette gave a low whistle. (Actually rather like a man.) “Fuck me! She walks like a girl! Another win for the magic dress!” I didn’t understand this at all, but took it as a compliment.

“Now then,” said Kathy. “Stop admiring yourself, Michelle. Let’s go downstairs and chat about your future. Yvette must be dying for her Earl Grey, and we never got the tea I promised you. We’ll have a nice girlie chat and then I’ll run you home.”

Downstairs I relaxed in my female attire and we discussed what to do. Which actually meant them suggesting and me agreeing. My dress (and in future other dresses) would stay there, and I could visit Yvette at the weekend, and occasionally at other times. Kathy dropped me off at home and had a word with my parents to confirm the job, and say that the work varied so staff sometimes worked a bit late or went in at the weekend to deal with urgent business.

I had become Michelle, at least sometimes.

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