Body Types


My name is Carl and I love to cross dress. My alter ego, Carissa, is an out going and friendly person who first appeared in public recently. The occasion was a corporate Christmas party. I had been by that time dressing privately in front of my computer and participating in a video chat for several months.

I’m five foot six, 130 pounds. I wear my medium brown hair down to my shoulders. I hate wigs.

The fantasy that I was born Carissa had been a part of me now for quite a few years. It began one day while I was sitting on the beach very close to the water’s edge. To my left a few feet away, a girl probably in her twenties, was walking back from the water. I watched her through a pair of dark green sun glasses thinking I would love to be built like her. I of course have no idea why I had such desires.

Men would say that this girl, who would be forever a stranger to me, was very attractive. She wore a dark pink two piece swim suit. It’s top covered a pair of plump, but not excessively large, round breasts. The curve at her waist was quite pronounced.

At six that Friday evening in mid December evening I stood front of my wardrobe closet fresh from the shower wearing panties. One by one I pushed aside the outfits. My boy clothes occupied the left half and my girl clothes were on the right.

Having placed the water lillie pattern blouse and dark blue pleated skirt on my bed I put on the corset and pulled it as tight as I could make çekmeköy escort it. Pink panties with my cock tied back, my false breasts, maiden form bra, skirt and blouse made me feel dressed. Now I was ready for makeup.

I like the light colors. Pink is my favorite lipstick shade. Eyeliner generally is light blue. I spent the next few minutes applying base, colors and blending.

An hour later I was walking through the hotel lobby bound for the function room. The Melon room was about 50 yards down the wide hall.

Walking in and looking around I saw small groups of colleagues standing in small circles or sitting at tables. Near the bar Joe Pollard, dressed in a very nice Herring Bone suit, stood taking a haul from his cigarette. I approached him.

“Hi Joe Pollard,”

“Hi Ms,” he replied. “You look like some one.”

“Ms Nichols,” I answered. “It’s Carissa Nichols.”

“It’s funny. Carl never said he had a sister.”

“He’s kind of a private person. He won’t volunteer information.”

“Are you new with the firm? I don’t remember you.”

It was the ultimate test whether or not I could pass and I came through it with colors flying. This is great I thought. Joe Pollard was the one person who seemed to know everybody.

“I just started today.”

“Where is Carl tonight anyway?”

“He’s not feeling too well so he’s home relaxing. I called him just before I left my apartment.”

As the cevizli escort party went on I mingled. As far as anyone knew I was Carl’s sister whom they were meeting for the first time.

At the stroke of midnight with the party about to break up I began to feel very strange. It felt as though something had gripped my body just for a fraction of a second then released me. There was no one close enough and I do not believe in ghosts. I put the event out of my mind.

Just after midnight that Friday as I walked through the parking lot toward my car I held my key pointed out. It’s easier than searching through my pocket book. Like every girl I felt that I needed to access my car quickly. In case of predator or assailant I would feel safer inside and driving away.

On the way home I detoured to the pharmacy not far from my house. It was still open so I went inside and walked down the aisle marked feminine hygiene. Looking quickly along the shelves I picked up a package of Playtex tampons.

These actions, however natural they seemed, were unexpected. I’ve never walked through parking lots at night holding my key out and I certainly never purchased tampons I thought.

Undressing for bed I reacted to my new body. These are real! Immediately I picked up the bra that I had just dropped on the chair and put it on again. As I removed the corset I saw that the curve at my waist was more pronounced. I realized that I no longer erenköy escort needed it to shape my body. O my God I thought. My cross dressing routine has just changed my sex. I like this body I feel pretty.

I crawled into bed that night and was asleep probably within ten minutes. Carissa interacted with her brother Ron, older sister Jane, colleagues, and old friends. Carl never existed.

It was a few minutes after 9 when I awoke on Saturday, and made my bed before leaving my bedroom. Pulling on a pair of Levi Curvy denim, and V neck sweater I walked out into my kitchen. Over my first cup of coffee I thought about my new life. First thing I thought is I’ll legally change my name. It should be simple. Monday I’ll talk to my boss and to HR and simply tell them that I’m transgender. They certainly would not give Carl’s job to a stranger off the street in hs absence. I’ll be ok I Knew.

Suddenly becoming interested in my body shape and in choosing outfits that would flatter me I went on line. My Mac Book took me to a beautifully illustrated sight dedicated to 12 female body types. For the next few moments I perused the web page based on “The Body Bible” by Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine.

I concluded that I might be a “vase” body type. I’m not long legged. My hips are not dramatically wider than my waist. I’m not heavy set but not tall and slim either.

Carl had never obsessed over his body. He never worried about being skinny, or lacking in muscle. If he had he would have exercised perhaps with weights.

Since the sudden change of my sex I feel differently. I hope I don’t look fat, or worse get fat I thought. Are my boobs proportional to my figure? Guys don’t sympathize I thought.

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