Crossdressing: Erotic Stories/Excerpt

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Hot off the press comes a new anthology containing a story by Yours Truly. Crossdressing: Erotic Stories is edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, a wonderful story-teller in her own right. Published by Cleis in San Francisco, it’s made up of 18 short stories that revolve around the theme of gender bending. The contributors’ list will be familiar to anyone who reads the erotic genre, among them Debra Hyde, Simon Sheppard, Alison Tyler, and, of course, moi. Several of these writers have been published in my own anthologies, but all the stories here are freshly minted. The foreword is by Veronica Vera, who runs Miss Vera’s Academy, a school for boys who want to be girls, in New York.

As a special treat (and a tease) to my faithful readers, following are a few paragraphs from my contribution, Michelle, Ma Belle. To read the entire story, you’ll just have to buy the book. (Note: I’m having trouble linking to the book on Amazon. I hope to clear this up by tomorrow.–MS)

Michelle, Ma Belle

Many years ago, before I knew what a transvestite was–I had a vague notion it had something to do with a sex change–and before I’d explored the far reaches of genderbending, I inadvertently stumbled into a relationship with a cross-dressing man.
Michael and I had been going out for several months, and had become fairly open about our sexual fantasies. But it took nearly a year before he revealed his biggest secret–the contents of his bottom dresser drawer. He was terrified of being ridiculed, but my reaction was mostly jealousy: I fairly drooled over his collection of expensive camisoles, garter belts, pushup bras and lacy stockings. Relieved, he told me that for years he’d been dressing up in secret, sometimes calling a phone sex service to describe his outfits, asking the operator to treat him like a woman.

This was fascinating stuff to me. Since I’m bisexual, the notion of my man dressed as a woman excited me. But it turned out that, though Michael had all the right accoutrements of femininity, he was a total klutz when it came to hair and makeup. He wanted me to teach him how to look ultra-femme.

The next night I brought over a long blonde wig and a small suitcase full of makeup and perfume. I felt like a little girl again, about to dress up my dolls.

First I shaved his legs, underarms and chest–a messy task, since Michael was quite hairy. Then I rubbed scented oil all over him, massaging it into his skin while he sighed with pleasure. I put a pair of red bikini panties on him, loving the incongruous sight of the bulge through the silky crotch. Next, I put on a red strapless bra that hooked in front, well-padded so it stayed up and gave him the illusion of breasts. I snapped on a black garter belt studded with little red hearts, holding up black lacy stockings. I slid his feet into a pair of hot pink six-inch heels.

Dressed in these undergarments Michaell sat in front of the mirror while I did his makeup. I powdered and rouged his cheeks, glued on fake eyelashes, and drew shadows on his lids. For extra effect I gave him a beauty mark right beside his lips, which were outlined in ruby red lipstick. Then I applied fake fingernails, painting them to match his mouth.

All the while he was staring into the mirror, awed by his transformation. The piéce de resistence was the wig, which I combed a dozen different ways until we agreed he looked best with it swept sideways over one eye. He stood, put on a tight hot pink satin dress with a bow at the line of cleavage, and sashayed around the room for my inspection.

I was dazzled by the fantasy girl I’d created. Not only was I proud of my handiwork, I was downright jealous–Michael was far more gorgeous as a woman than I am; not even his rippling biceps detracted from his femininity, but added erotic mystery.

We hadn’t planned to go out, but it seemed a shame to keep Michael hidden away. I spent an inordinate amount of time getting myself ready, until finally Michael said cutely, “Don’t try to compete, honey, you’ll never win.

Giggling like girlfriends, we stepped out into the night.

That’s about one-third of the story. Now rush right out and get yourself a copy of Crossdressing, so you can finish reading it–and 17 other stories as well.

Veronica Vera

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