By Nina

My heart jumped with joy when Mum and Dad announced that for my thirteenth birthday we were going to take a Caribbean cruise. The year was 1975. I loved ships so this was the best thing that could ever happen to me. I had no idea that it would change my life. The next few weeks were a bit hectic as Mum went on countless shopping sprees and spent the rest of her time packing. We would have to take a taxi to Heathrow Airport for a flight to Miami in Florida USA. Mum had secretly obtained passports and visas months before in anticipation of our trip. Being a typical teenager I proudly showed my new passport to my friends at school. It read, "Issued to Alexander Andrew XXXXXX." The trip to the airport was routine as was the flight to Miami. Proudly I presented my passport to the US customs agent who questioned me to verify the information. A taxi whisked us to the docks. A huge sign on the dock read "Cunard Lines". The ship was pure white and beautiful, the Union Jack flying proudly from her mast. Aboard ship would be like being back in England.

We were escorted to our stateroom. (I learned later it was a parlour.). It had two rooms. One had parlour furniture and a bed. That was where I would sleep. Mum and dad would occupy the separate bedroom. As we moved about the ship I noted the curious accent the Yankee passengers had; peasants. Before long two deafening blasts from the ship’s foghorn announced we were underway. The first stop would be Nassau the following morning, then Kingston, Jamaica and then to a new port every day. The port stops were great. We bought all kinds of souvenirs and viewed the sights. The food was terrific. We were even invited to dine at the captain’s table in deference to Dad’s high government position, our British nationality and my birthday. I even had a birthday cake. In the middle of the week the ship’s daily bulletin announced a costume party and contest following dinner that evening. Mum and Dad had seen the contest mentioned in the trip brochure and had packed costumes for themselves, but being unaware that "children" could attend, had none for me. I wanted to go very much. I even began to cry, a trait I had for years. Over the years I had been subject to much ridicule having been referred to as baby, and worse, girly boy.

Mum put on her thinking cap. I have it", she exclaimed. "The only thing I can think of is for you to go as a lady." I balked saying, "Boys don’t do things like that". Mum took my hand saying, "Alex, it’s that or nothing. Do you want to go to the party or just sit around?" I went on deck and thought about it. I finally decided it was better than nothing. Besides I would never see any of these people again.

I went back to the cabin and told mum of my decision. "Good" she said. "Now let’s see what we can do with you". She went down to the duty free shop and returned with a shoulder length light brown wig and earrings. She took a long red formal dress and a matching slip from one of the suitcases. I think this will fit. We’re just about the same size. She handed me a pair of matching shoes. "Try these on and see if they fit." I pulled one on my bare foot. It was a bit of a struggle but it went on. As I looked at them I knew I would never walk in them, the heels were at least 8 cm. high. Mum read my mind. "We’ll practice this afternoon. Walking in heels isn’t really that hard, it’s just a matter of balance." It was teatime so we left the things on my bed and went to the lounge. After tea she decided to have me try on the dress. It almost fit. Mum and I were about the same size except that I had a thick waistline. She couldn’t fasten the dress. The back gapped open about four inches. Mum was a bit old fashion and always wore corsets even in these days of tights and women’s lib. Little did I realize as she looked in another suitcase that I would also be wearing one.

She found what she wanted. She held up this frightening looking garment. It was almost two feet long and full of steel pieces. A row of laces ran the length of the back. Eight suspenders hung from the bottom. There were two cups on the top. I knew from hugging Mum how rigid and hard she felt. I would feel the same way. There was no way I was going to wear a thing like that and I told her so. "It’s your choice Alex; This or no party". I did want to go so reluctantly I agree. I was told to take off the ill-fitting dress and my underwear. I started to grumble. "Don’t be shy, I’ve seen you naked all your life". As soon as I did she had the corset wrapped around me and fastened. It extended from my armpits to my upper thigh. She began tightening it. It became more and more uncomfortable as she continued. How could Mum wear a thing like this all day, every day? Just as I was about to run out of breath she stopped. "This is the way I wear it so you and I are now the same size". She exclaimed. She then reached down the front and drew flesh up from my stomach. It partially filled the cups. She took several nylons and filled the cups. A glance in the mirror showed I had a woman’s figure. She had me sit on the bed as she drew nylons onto my legs and fastened them tightly to the suspenders. The nylons felt ‘nice’ on my legs. The corset was becoming less uncomfortable. I was beginning to feel a strange warm feeling encompass my body. Then embarrassment of embarrassments; my thing began to stiffen. This wasn’t the first time but it was the wrong time; in front of Mum. She noticed and smiled, saying nothing. The corset was so long that it really couldn’t stick out.

She dropped the slip and dress over my head. This time it fit perfectly; Mum and I now had identical figures. I couldn’t help but think I looked rather nice. The shoes went on easily this time over the smooth nylons. Mum spent the next hour walking me around the room. By the time she finished I was managing quite well. I felt strange walking around all dressed up as a woman, corset and all. By this time it was dinnertime. I didn’t have time to take the corset and all off so Mum decided that I would wear a daytime dress and go to dinner as a girl. She located one of her dresses that looked a bit young for her but perfect for me. Within minutes I was a young girl of perhaps fifteen or sixteen with a terrific figure. She put some light makeup on me and placed the wig on my head. Alex the boy was gone. I became Alexi the girl. About that time Dad returned from the casino to dress for dinner. As he entered he gave a whistle and said, "Wow, you sure did a job on her. It seems I have a new daughter with a figure like her mother." At the time I wasn’t at all happy about his "her" references. I assured him it was just for the evening. I received some strange looks from our assigned table wait staff. I’m sure they wondered where their son went and where the new girl came from. Propriety and the fate their gratuities at the end of the voyage prevented them from commenting. As I dined I was sure all eyes were on me.

After dinner we returned to our rooms. The day frock was replaced with the red formal gown. It fit like a glove. The outline of my suspenders shown through the skirt when I sat down. Dad commented that the back lacing was also noticeable. This time my makeup was much heavier. Dark red lipstick almost the same color as my gown was applied. My nails were trimmed and painted to match the gown. The clip on earrings were fastened to my ears. As she did she commented, "It’s too bad your ears aren’t pierced. These clip-ons like to fall off". Little did I realize that one day they would be. By the time we left our room no one would ever have guessed that I was a boy. The image in the mirror was all girl, a pretty sixteen year old girl. I had to concede that I really look nice. The first hour the adults amused themselves drinking. A floorshow was provided for entertainment. Then the MC requested that the contestants sign up. I was asked to indicate my sex on the sheet. Since I was a boy I checked male. As I signed up I noticed there were several slightly boyish looking girls in the line, competition? Mum won a prize for her costume. I was shocked when I heard my name called. "Alex XXXXXX is the second prize winner for the best impersonation of a girl", the MC announced. Everyone clapped. There were a few whistles and catcalls. I heard several comments such as, "Isn’t he lovely"; "I never would have guessed he wasn’t a girl"; "He has such a lovely figure, he must be wearing a corset". One man said, "He can put his shoes under my bed anytime". I wished the floor would open and swallow me. Mum virtually had to push me to the stage to claim my prize. It was a pretty jeweled handbag. I was confused. Since they knew I was a boy why give me a girl’s handbag? Was it prophetic?

The worst part was that the contestants were expected to stay for the dancing to follow. My hope of escaping to our room and changing clothes was smashed. The orchestra began playing. Mum and Dad felt sorry for me and allowed me to "sample" a cocktail, then two. It sure took off the "rough edges". If we hadn’t been at sea they could have been arrested. I was cowering in my seat waiting for the ordeal to end when a tap on my shoulder startled me. I look up to see a young man standing over me. He took my hand and whisked me onto the dance floor before I could say no even though he knew I was a boy. Since I had no choice I tried to follow as best I could. Fortunately I did not step on his feet. It felt strange, but not all that unpleasant, being held in the arms of a young man. The first dance was a slow one and he held me very tightly. He kept exploring my corseted body with his hands and pressing his thigh against me. It wasn’t long before I felt something else, hard, pressing against my leg. I was actually exciting a boy. I figured there was something "wrong" with him. But then again to him I looked like a pretty girl in a tight corset and I had heard that some men are attracted to women in corsets. Mum and dad had an ample number of cocktails and lost track of how many I had. By the time the party ended I had danced with at least twenty men and boys. I was also a wee bit tipsy and feeling no pain. I was also aroused the whole time; that worried me. Why should men affect me that? When the party ended we barely managed to stagger back to our room. I was so out of it that I took off the dress and crawled into bed wearing my corset and nylons. My sleep was punctuated with erotic dreams of me as a girl dancing and petting with young men. A large spot on the sheet told me that I must have enjoyed my dreams.

We over slept. We had only a few minutes before the breakfast serving would end. Mum and Dad quickly slipped into casual clothes. She handed me the short frock I had worn to dinner, touched up my makeup and we were off. I was upset about appearing in broad daylight as a girl. In spite of my misgivings nothing out of the ordinary happened; no comments or looks. On the way back to our room we passed the first young man that had asked me to dance. "You were the lovely boy in the red dress that I danced with last night, weren’t you, the one with the cute English accent?" I blushed profusely and stammered, "Yes". "How about meeting me at the poolside snack bar after lunch?" "Good grief, he knows I’m a boy and he is still trying to date me", I thought. I muttered, "Maybe", and hurried after my parents. I had no intention of meeting him. As soon as I was back in boys clothes he would never find me. back in our room I hurried to undress. I expected to have a great feeling of relief when I unfastened the corset. Strangely I felt the opposite. I actually missed its embrace. Even after I was dressed in my boy clothes I felt strangely naked. "Maybe they would have another party", I thought as I watched Mum pack my corset and party clothes away.

The rest of the voyage was equally wonderful. I was a history buff and I marveled at the thought that most of these beautiful islands (and even Miami) were once part of the Empire. I had never paid any attention to Mum’s figure before but now, after wearing a corset I somehow related to it. For the rest of the holiday I frequently wondered how it would be to wear a corset all the time as Mum did; to feel its tight embrace; to feel the tug of the nylons against the suspenders; to feel the soft smooth touch of the nylons on my bare legs; to sleep in it and dream. I also wondered why I, a boy, had such an interest in lady’s clothes. All too soon we were back in London and headed home. I had acquired a nice tan but already the colour was fading. Most of the summer and school holidays were still ahead of me. Periodically I would revisit the cruise in my mind. Somehow the corset incident seemed to predominate. A few weeks passed. Dad was at work and Mum had gone to visit my Aunt Grace. It was a rainy day and I was stuck in the house with little to do except watch the telly. One of the stations showed a program call Blue Peter. It had a reputation for presenting "unusual" programs. This one was about corsets. Five minutes into the program and all my memories came flooding back. I just had to feel the embrace of a corset one more time. I naively thought that doing so would get it out of my mind once and for all.

Not wanting to miss the rest of the program I set the video recorder to record it and went to mum’s room. There in her closet were several corsets. I selected one and a pair of nylons and retreated to my room. I stripped off my clothes and soon was busy lacing the corset around my body. That inexplicable feeling enveloped me as "it" rose to the occasion. Adding the nylons intensified the delightful sensations coursing through my body. This was it; paradise found. After ten minutes of this I knew what I had to do and did it. With the tension relieved I suddenly had a feeling of guilt, quickly disrobed and quickly returned to being Alex. I carefully replaced the corset and nylons just in time. As I returned to the parlour and was about to hit the telly ON button Mum returned. A close call, but close only counts in croquet. Little by little my experimenting in the wonderful world of corsetry increased in frequency. It reached the point where I corseted anytime mum left the house. I added her high heels to my list. The feelings of guilt after each episode gradually went away. If my parents went out for the evening I was corseted for the evening, even after relieving myself. I am getting a bit ahead of myself so let me retreat a few weeks and go back to the forgotten video. I had taken it out of the recorder without watching it and returned it to its place on the shelf intending to watch it later but subsequently forgetting about it.

Fast forwarding (no pun intended); one evening a few weeks later, after my mind was firmly enmeshed in my secret world of corsets, we were watching some mindless program. Dad didn’t care for it so he decided to see what was on some of the old tapes. As luck would have it he picked the Blue Peter tape. As soon as he saw what it was he hit pause and turned to Mum asking, "Why did you tape a thing like this?" "I didn’t," she replied. Simultaneously they turned to me. My face flushed and I looked down. "Why on earth did you tape this?" asked dad. I paused and muttered something almost unintelligible saying, "I, I; w well I was curious because I wore one on the trip". Dad responded, "Since you taped it why don’t you watch it, or have you already?" He hit the play button and for the next twenty minutes or so I observed many facets of corset fetishism. If I hadn’t been so embarrassed I would have enjoyed it. I was sent then to my room and told we will talk later about this. Later Mum came to my room to say goodnight. She sat on the edge of the bed. "Your father was shocked that his son was interested in women’s intimate things but he is cooling down. I was shocked too, but then I recalled an incident when I was a little girl. My older brother was caught wearing my mother’s corset and outer clothes. As punishment my father had him fitted with a corset and made him dress as a girl for a month. It didn’t work. To this day your uncle, I am told, still wears corsets and dresses in private. His wife tells me that his therapist says there is no cure so she accepts it. I suppose the same applies to you. Now confess, have you been wearing my corsets since we returned from our trip?" I hung my head in shame and said, "yes." Mum continued, "Let me talk to your father when his fully quieted down. Since he knows about your uncle, he may be willing to compromise." My heart jumped. Compromise? Was Mum saying I might be able to wear a corset whenever I wanted? It was beyond my wildest dream; a dream come true.

The next morning she drew me aside. "I talked to your father. He was less than happy but he agreed that your happiness was paramount. You can wear a corset but only in the house when relatives and visitors are not here." I couldn’t believe my ears, my dream had come true. That very morning Mum laced me into her best corset. It was wonderful. I could never get it tight enough when I laced it but Mum laced it with a vengeance. It was much tighter even than it had been laced for the ship’s party. I got the works, nylons, heels and a pretty dress. My face was even made up. Alexi was back. It was heavenly. I was so excited that several times a day when I used the loo I would relieve my self. The more I did the more in love with the corset I became.

One day after lacing me she announced that I was to get a custom fitted corset. That afternoon a lady appeared at the door carrying a large valise with the name SPIRELLA stenciled on it. I was told she was the corset lady. As soon as she was ushered into the parlour I was told to disrobe. She was pleased to note that I was already corseted. "This should be easy," she said. She then continued, "Most boys when being corseted for the first time give me trouble. You seem to like wearing one so you must like it or at least have learned to accept it so let’s get started." Within minutes I was clad only in a short slip and the fitting corset. She tugged at the multitude of laces and took many measurements. When she finished Mum re-corseted me as the lady packed her things into the valise. "The corsets will be ready in two weeks. You have been wearing a woman’s corset. You will find that a custom corset designed to give a female shape to a male body is far more comfortable than a corset designed for a female body," she said as she walked out.

Two weeks later I was the happy owner of my very own corsets; two pair. The lady was right; the custom corsets a much better fit. They were also tighter and more rigid but still more comfortable. Within a day or two I was used to the added restriction and loved every rigid centimeter of it. The new corsets were considerably smaller in the waist than mum’s, giving me a very defined feminine waist. For the rest of the summer I enjoyed my corset every opportunity I could. Every time I dressed Mum would apply makeup. Dad, reluctantly at first, finally accepted having an "odd son" as he put it. He did however always refer to me as "she". It was as though they were, at this point, actually encouraging me to become a "girl". Returning to school at the end of the summer holiday restricted my dress up activities to late afternoon and evenings. If you wonder, yes, I did and still do sleep in my corset. Doing homework dressed as a girl somehow made a tedious task easier. As a result my grades improved leading Mum to say one report card day that it was a pity I hadn’t taken up dressing sooner. Dad seemed to like seeing his new daughter. I later found out why. Mum confided in confidence one day that dad had a corset thing. The main reason she wore them originally was to please him, now it was to please both. It was a morning ritual for him to lace her up. She mentioned that that he enjoyed watching me mince about the house in mine. She also mentioned that she had read somewhere that many men are fascinated with the idea of ladies wearing corsets but would never consider wearing one themselves. Such, apparently was Dad.

By my fourteenth birthday changes had taken place. I had been taking a hormone pill every morning and developed cute little breasts. My ears were pierced and my eyebrows were plucked a bit. If my school chums noticed they never commented. I now accompanied my parents to theaters, restaurants, on holiday and even shopping as their daughter. Our home had an attached garage so entering and leaving was removed from prying neighbors’ eyes. Except during school I was always a girl. Even my relatives came to accept my "idiosyncrasy". I was happy but I had an overpowering desire to be a girl all the time. My dream came true. Dad was transferred to another government office in Manchester and we had to move. I begged and pleaded for days and they finally agreed to let me be the girl of my dreams in our new home. Dad had enough influence to effect a change in my identity. All my records now showed me as Alexi Andrea XXXXXX. A doctor’s certificate was obtained excusing me from physical ed. classes and sports because of a "bad back". Alexi was the family princess. Alex, the family prince was gone forever. Dad and Mum were proud of their lovely daughter and took me everywhere. They were concerned when a boy asked me to a dance but agreed as long as I was "careful". I realized that having a girl friend, and I still had feelings toward the opposite sex, was out of the question. Boy friends became my thing. It was wonderful to be crushed in the arms of a handsome young man and be kissed passionately. I came to love having his tongue probe my mouth and feel his hardness pressed against my thigh. A hand gently caressing my nylon-covered leg and toying with my suspenders was my favorite. Those were my limits, nothing more. Boys are nice but my hope is that someday, somehow I will meet a broadminded (no pun intended) young lady who is fascinated with a boy/girl. To think it all started innocently at a costume party. That was a birthday I will remember forever, the start of a new life. I was indeed reborn that fateful day. My little jeweled handbag always goes with me whenever I leave the house. It’s a symbolic thing. I will tight-lace and dress as a girl until I’m too old to care. What does my future hold? It can only get better. Today I am sweet sixteen.

7 November2006