Every story has to have a beginning

Every story has to have a beginning; here is mine.

I was and eight year old boy growing up in upstate New York. Nothing special; just normal. At eight years old everything is an adventure. In fact, I long for those carefree days, as I'm in my 40's.

I was at my cousins' house like so many times before. They were twin girls a year younger than I was. I think in a way, I envied them and wanted to emulate myself to be like them. But I never showed as such. I have an older brother, and if I showed too much interest in the girls' things, oh boy, would he have a field day with that.


I remember that I had to go to the bathroom while we were there. So, I went into the bathroom to do my business. As I was sitting there on the pot, (yes, even then I sat to pee.) I noticed something bright yellow hanging out of the side of the hamper.

I was mesmerized by the lemony hue that was staring me in the face. My curiosity started to brew from within. What exactly was this garment that caught my eye. The anticipation was starting to kill me as I finished peeing. I had to find out.

As I started pulling the material from where it was placed, I noticed that it was not a top I was viewing for it had a skirt attached to it. It must be one of the girls' dress. I've seen them wear them before and never paid much mind, but now with the soft fabric within my grasp, I was really curious.

A single, solitary thought came rushing through my head. One that every trans or crossdresser has had. "Try it on. For the love of God man, try it on."

My hands started to tremble. My face was turning flush. I could feel the heat as my eyes instinctively began to water. The butterflies ripped through my stomach to the point where my insides began to turn themselves out. The nervousness began to take hold, but there was no way I was leaving this bathroom with out the feel of this soft material against my tiny eight year old body.

I doublechecked the door to make sure it was locked. Then, hastily my pants were removed from my feet. My shirt was next; no need for that. I picked up the yellow dress and I could feel the weight of it, for it was much heavier that my shirt with all that extra material added.

Over my head and around my neck it went. The material caressed my chest as the hem slid down. And the hem kept going down and down until it reached knee length. At this age there are not meany body differences between girls and boys, except the obvious equipment. So the dress fit like a glove.

I flattened out the skirt of my new bright yellow attire. Noticing how well it fit as I looked down my front. Scared but excited, I turned to face the mirror. Shock is all I can tell you, as in the mirror stood a little eight year old girl with a bad haircut. I didn't have long hair in the front, and the back was a rat tail that was cool at the time. So other than that, I did see a little girl in the mirror.

I saw me, or at least the me that I've always felt like, for the first time that day. Though , I did not have time to enjoy myself, I did find myself that day. It was a horrible feeling to have to remove that yellow dress and put it back. I hated to, but even at eight, I knew that there would be hell to pay if I got caught. This was the 80's and boys did not wear girls' clothes.

So that's how it started. I have many stories of being young and cross dressing. So more will come in time.