Pantyhose. Perhaps the ultimate feminine garment. I loved to be a guy, yet from boyhood, I was fascinated with them. Being a guy, I never put them on. That is, until the day a pair appeared mysteriously on my bed. I picked them up and they slithered deliciously through my hands. Although something in me screamed “No!”, I felt compelled to roll it up my left foot. And my foot changed. “Oh God!” I said, with the mixture of awe and terror. Then, heart in mouth, I rolled it off. My foot remained a woman’s foot. At this point I almost panicked, but a strange sweet calm inside me prevented me from losing it. And then, in utter disbelief, I pulled on the other foot and watched as my right foot became small and soft, with matching painted toes. “This can’t be happening!” I said, trying hard as I could to stop, and horrified at how wonderful it felt to have such lovely little feet. I knew, I had to stop, but up went the pantyhose, smoothing my legs into womanly splendor. Up, up, they went towards…”No!” But those new sweet soft things wanted to lead somewhere equally lovely, not end abruptly at an alien organ. And they were leading me, fighting not to pull the pantyhose up over my crotch. But just as I was reversing direction, I caught sight of the feminine splendor of my new legs, and the mules which had inexplicably appeared on my lovely new feet. Something soft and gently awoke in me, then, and in trance I pulled the pantyhose home.

A wave of sweet comfort washed through me as my fingers lingered over my new equipment, then a sudden sensation of great loss tore through me. It was gone! I kicked off the unwanted heels and was about to tear the pantyhose away, when the sight of my female lower half stopped the fight in me and I relaxed, lulled by the pretty sight. To my surprise, my hands were now holding a pretty camisole and the soft small little voice inside me told me what I had to do. “I am a man,” I whispered, not really believing it… “Would a man wear such a pretty thing?” the voice answered. “And would it look and feel so lovely over hairy legs? Wouldn’t it look pretty over your lovely legs?” In a dare, I said “Yes”, as all I could imagine was that lovely feeling. Thoughts of manhood lost, shame at becoming female, shame at loving it: all these thoughts were overwhelmed by the desire to feel satin on nylon on silky skin. How could I stop myself? With a sweet sense of resignation, I stepped feet first into the waiting softness, and as my little feet emerged, I saw to my horror and delight that the mules were now cute matching sandals. The sensation as the cami slid over my female legs caused me to arch my back and slide it home. As breasts grew and femininity won, I went to a mirror, shyly looking up to see my pretty new face stained with tears of shame, tears of joy…

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