Twin Union Pt. 02

"Well, Eve, a lecture it was, but thanks for allowing me in on all that! Wow! An amazing mechanism, the female body. My body is child's play, really. Yeah, the cock and its erections may be called an amazing tool, but it is pretty obvious and single-minded by comparison."

"You are welcome. You are right, cocks are not discussed that much, but once you say cock, the fact that is erect from time to time is understood by everybody. A girl's period is not discussed a lot. Amongst ourselves we drop a hint now and then, but it is hardly discussed. A taboo? That is too big a word."

I get up and pull her up and hug her.

"So, Eve, what do we do now? This was good, but a bit serious. We should have some fun now. Game time again?"

"Ah, you seem to give me the initiative! Typical! Well, I have thought ahead. In fact, luck has it that I have anticipated another answer to your previous question. What it is like to be a woman."

Wow. What a girl! I look at her admiringly in several senses of the word, as she rushes out of the room in her naked state. A few minutes later she -- oh, what beauty - reappears with a plastic bag in one hand and a bundle of clothes in the other.

"Well," she says, "what do you think of this?"

"You are keeping me guessing. What is in the bag?"

"You are not very imaginative, Paul. 'What it is like to be a woman?' and a bundle of clothes... What does that spell?"

"Wait... You are going to make me wear women's clothes? Not sure if I like the sound of that!"

"I am sure you don't, but you want to know... And I am sure I can make you a convincing woman. You are not the bulkiest giant of a rugby player. Your face is fairly gentle and I will make sure I will remove any remaining doubt.

"Meanwhile, I dress as a man and keep you company that way."

"Keep me company, where?"

"The mall again?"

"Geezzz... Still don't like the sound of that! From bad to worse!"

"We'll see. Come on, be a sport."

"Alright! I have to trust your make-up skills. And what about my hair?"

"Ah, of course I have thought of that. But go and have a shave first. Make your cheeks as smooth as possible. Great that you are not a bluebeard, but blond."

I do as I am told. Might as well look like a girl as much as I can. May save some embarrassment. When I return, Eve says:

"The hair... Here we go! I can't lend you my hair and you cannot lend me yours. But... " and she takes the plastic bag she got at the mall a few hours ago, "... I got us some pretty good wigs." And pulls out a brown long-haired wig out of the bag. "I did not get the cheapest, you know. I really wanted to give you a chance. Now, put it on. "

I fumble, but with her help I manage.

"Lord, Paul! You're on your way! Come, have a look in the mirror."

She takes me by the hand to the full-length hallway mirror. I am startled when I see myself. I see a girl's head on my body. My moderately hairy body, complete with cock, I recognise, but I have to look well to spot myself in the face. I have a fringe and loose hair going well down to my chest, leaving only the minimum of my face bare. Of course, I recognise my features when I look well, but what a difference a wig makes.

She sees that I am impressed. "And I will still make you up too! Now let's get you dressed. I got you some of ma's better clothes. Mine are too slim."

"Mom's clothes!"

"She won't know if you are tidy and we'll wash and iron them, if needed."

"I believe that. I am thinking about myself, for Pete's sake. Wearing her clothes is almost like seeing her naked. I know I am overreacting, but I don't like it!"

"Paul, she won't know. She may benefit from a new improved woman-friendly you. Think about it that way.

"Here is a pair of panties. The softest, most delicate pair in her drawer. Now, bend your dick backward between your legs, while I put them on for you. Or should I tape your member back, to be sure?"

Her smile...

"God, no! I will think of something dull."

And she puts ma's panties on me. They are black sweet nothings, part lacy, hardly capable of containing my cock between my legs. We decide on a narrow leather belt in ma's closet to tie my cock back and hold it to one of my legs. It is fine as long as I am limp. The onset of an erection is killed in the bud by the belt becoming tight around my cock. Not sure if this makes me feel like a woman, unless I really manage to think of something dull and stay limp. Women do not have this issue! When I settle down, I find that the panties start to make me feel a little different.

"Pantyhose now, or tights as they are sometimes called. I like the word 'tights', Paul, it is sexier. Won't bother with thigh-highs now. That is Feminisation 201."

I have tried on my sister's pantyhose when I was fifteen, when the difference between her and myself really hit me and I wanted to feel what all that feminine gear was all about. Not since then, even though I am a guy that loves hose on women!

So here I am, in black opaque hose. Tight indeed. Glad she chose opaque, not sheer. I do not shave my legs and have no intention to.

"Now ma's bra. Matching the panties you'll be glad to see. Guys I have dated often think that girls only wear fine, sexy and matching bra and panties, but I have forever explained to them that that stuff is expensive and not as comfortable and practical as the dull ordinary kit.

"Now what shall we fill it with, you wonder? I have thought of that and got you some gel baggies that true cross-dressers use. You can't believe how current that kind of stuff is, so I got us a pair that fits mum's size."

She lets me put the bra on myself, front to back to close it, turn it around and move it up, then helps me to insert the gel bags and get the shoulder straps in place. I feel the weight of these fake breasts. So, this is what mum carries around with her all the time. I jump up and down and feel that weight flopping up and down too.

"No, it does not look like a girl's bosom jiggling, but you get some of the idea."

Then she takes me at arm's length and looks me over.

"It is amazing, Paul. Are you sure you are a man? Yeah, I see that cock held in check, but otherwise...? Come and see yourself in the mirror."

I first see my face again, or rather my head with that crazy, but convincing wig! It is a woman's head still. The body is not completely mine anymore. Yeah, the shape is mine, the moderate blondish hair on my legs and chest is mine, but if I squint I see a girl. Let me try a glamour girl's pose, tilting hips, left foot in front of the other... Squinting, I'd be fooled! And I am hardly dressed and not made up...

"There is just a skirt and blouse to go. I have selected a nicely cut short-sleeve white blouse and mid-thigh gypsy skirt in various shades of green. I remember mum with this skirt and it suits her well. For you, it makes you a bit older, conservative. Still, the items are stylish. Put them on!"

On go the blouse and then the skirt. The blouse is tailored and fits pretty well. Mum's torso must not be that different from mine, including my new bosom. The skirt is adjustable. I am sure my mother's waist is a touch narrower than mine, not sure. Anyway, it fits me and my outfit is complete. Or...

"Eve, what about shoes? I can't wear our mum's shoes. Heels would not be viable, I don't think."

Eve, still naked, my cock strains in its belt, bends over, rummages in the bag and produces red lacquer flats in my size. Oh, that resourceful twin sister! I put them on. They are quite narrow, but it will do. I am dressed.

"Now, Paulette, your make-up. We 're not going to make you look like a whore... Nice and attractive is the aim. Some face powder. I will do it for you... Some eyeshadow in off-white and green, very subtle. A touch of mascara and some pearl lipstick, nothing extreme."

Her face is very close to mine, her eyes concentrated on the job in hand, using brushes, cotton wool, lipstick, as if she is working on a piece of art. She takes her time, as she should. When she is finally done, she finally looks me in the eye.

"Wow, Paul. I am so impressed by your transformation. We did better than I had thought. You have talent. Look at you!" and she takes me to the mirror again.

I am thrown by my appearance. It is not me I am looking at. Is it me looking? I am confused. What kind of woman am I looking at? Mid-twenties, perhaps. My modest bulk as a man makes for a somewhat full figure for a woman, a bit like my mum -- no coincidence, but tighter, younger. My legs, they are a man's legs if you look really well, but Eve has done well to select the black opaque stockings and the mid-thigh skirt. They don't overaccentuate my legs, which are otherwise good and strong. A sportswoman... My waist is not the slimmest, but then, I am a full woman. The chest size matches the fullness. But the face, the face... The face is definitely not mine. This was true before the make-up, but is indisputable now. I look at Eve, whose eyes are positively glowing. She starts to laugh and rub her hands in excitement. Then she suddenly grabs under my skirt, finds my hose-covered balls and squeezes them hard. Nasty!

"If only I could feel what you are feeling! I have heard it feels like hell, if you're unlucky. Sorry, in that case. I saw that you are spellbound by your image. But don't get any ideas. You are still a man. That is why I squeezed your balls."

"Christ, Eve! As if I'd ever forget. I certainly won't now. Thanks!"

"Now, what shall I do? Dress like a man, is my idea. Look at the male wig I got me."

She twists her hair up and fixes it. Then grabbles inside the bag and retrieves a little bundle of blond hair. She faces the mirror and puts it on. It looks a bit like the hairdo of the guy in Blue Lagoon, the uncombed beach bum look. A good choice again. Not the most masculine look, but therefore one she may get away with.

"Now the shadow of a beard! Foundation and some light brown mascara! I have googled this, you know, and tried it before at college. We women generally have a peach fuzz, so I am darkening mine a bit. Important to not overdo it..."

She knows what she is doing, I give her that. Here is my naked sister, tits, cunt and all, transforming herself into a boyish man. My cock begins to strain in that awful, awful belt. I try to think of cold water, brick-laying, oatmeal... It is so hard not be excited by this wonderful girl... Christ! It takes a while before I manage:

"Sis, you are a very strange boy. Not quite a man. I don't know. But good! The wig is good, the cheeks and chin are coming along, if you don't know any better. But of course, right now your body shape, your tits and cunt give you away. You will have to do something about those tits anyway."

"We are going to bind them flat. We got some stretch bandage that we can use."

I help her apply it. Tight, but not too tight. Tits have feeling too, she insists. Then she steps into a pair of boxer shorts from me. She could have used dad's, for parity. She laughs when I tell her. "Who has ever cared for parity!" She folds up a kitchen towel and places it in her boxers. "By way of a well-endowed piece of manhood." She models the effect achieved now for me. Progress. She is less attractive to me now, I feel, and looks less like my sister. Not that I forget entirely that she is a girl and my sister! She is less, but still very attractive to me!

She practices manly movements and postures. She is good and I have to help her just a bit. How to pick up something from the floor? Legs apart, not neatly together, crotch shamelessly in view. As if that is on the cards today!

I have a harder time with the female movements. Why are girls always so good at this sort of thing? I try the models walk, one foot in front of the other. I try just walking lighter, to walk with my shoulders back and stomach in, instead of falling forward, so to speak. I try moving my hips, which is easily overdone, so I try to restrain myself, this accompanied by arm and hand movement, thumbs pointing forward. It is hard to do it well and make the flow natural, but after fifteen, twenty minutes I get the thumbs up.

She completes her dress by wearing one of my button-down shirts, a white one with blue vertical stripes, a pair of my stonewashed jeans and a pair of Nikes that I outgrew a few years back from the back of my closet.

So here we are: a woman with a hint of boyishness and a boyish man.

"Our voices!"

"Can't do much about those... I guess if we are walking around and don't talk loud, people may think the lower voice comes from me and the higher from you. Other than that, you try to talk high-pitched without being ridiculous and I do the opposite. Or do you want to grab the bull by the horns and be recognised as a cross-dresser? Embarrassment can be fun and teach some sort of lesson." She shows her trademark mischievous smile.

I reply, with sad face, "I will be embarrassed anyway. Let us just try to be convincing as woman and man and see what that brings us."

We hug. I practically crush her. I am stressed, perhaps excited. I take it out on her and practically crush her. I feel her up, she in that odd male attire and I as a girl, with these funny breasts in the way. My cock is straining in that god aweful belt holding it in. I hate it! If I am to play a woman, I can do without it! If I could have a cunt and feel like a cunt. I put my hand between her legs and feel hers through her jeans. Hard. I feel her cunt hard. I stroke it more subtly. I go on and on, more subtly. We add kissing. Oh, my wretched cock. This cannot be!

"This has to be later. My fucking cock! This is not how it is to feel like a woman. Eve, I love you but this is awful.

"Let's clean up the lipstick on both of us and go." Eve cleans up by face and reapplies the lipstick, her eyes concentrated on my lips. A brief last intimate moment before the dreaded outing.

We drive to the city centre and park.

"Alright, Paul, take a deep breath and try to enjoy. Just try to be a girl, but don't try too hard."

"I am really not sure what I should be trying to do, Eve. Trying to be a woman, trying to be natural... It can't be both ways... Will the first guy that sees me fall over laughing? I hate to think of confronting him. Or her, which may be worse..."

"Paul, I don't think anyone will care enough... Give it a go. Anyway, that is what a girl experiences, to be looked at and judged all the time. Face it! You look passable to most."

We get out and I will face it. I wonder where she will take me.

I feel clumsy, like a bull in a china shop. The funny bounce at my chest, the funny shoes, no pockets to stick a hand into. I feel I am walking on egg shells. I have heard that women look each other over as rule, rather than checking out men. The majority of passers-by are women. The minority is rushing business guys and what appears like the unemployed. I am being checked out by the women especially. Eve is right. What they think is impossible to say, but no one is pointing a finger or smirking, let alone laughing out loud. An occasional quizzical look. I do feel self-conscious though, and awkward.

We arrive in a posh shop in front of a posh attendant. She is older than we are. I guess thirty or so. Attractive, but very restrained. Comes with the job in this kind of shop, I guess. White blouse, black skirt and stockings. Why does Eve want me here? I fear I will be embarrassed. The shop lady does not give away any emotion when we present ourselves. She will be professional and discreet, whatever we do.

Eve says, "We should like to purchase a skirt and blouse for my friend here. Perhaps you would be kind enough to advise us?" She speaks in her most beautifully civilised manner. Even dressed like a man, she does not bend over backwards to sound like a man. She is careless, as in: without a care, not foolish. She knows what she is doing, my amazing twin, my better half.

"Very well, eh... Sir, I would be pleased to help you. What precisely is it I can help you with?", the woman replies in an obliging, professional way. She plays along. She looks at me for a second and flashes a professional smile towards me. I think she is being kind and wants to involve me. I manage half a smile back.

She turns back to Eve, who proceeds to specify what she has in mind: "A pencil skirt, firstly. In a shade of red, preferably in the range of blood red to burgundy. And then a black satin blouse, sleeveless. Can you help us?"

"Perfect, Sir, I can help you. Red may not be at the height of fashion at this moment, but it always fashionable and we stock a fair range. What is the size you want?" She suggests a size after looking me over from head to toe. I wouldn't know and if I did, I still would not speak up. Eve is handling this. No idea whether the sales girl has registered that I am a man in women's clothes.

Eve says, "I think that is right, but best to be sure and take the necessary measurements."

I still haven't said a word when the woman takes out her measuring tape, turns to me and asks me to lift my arms. She takes the measure of my neck, of my torso below the breasts (as if I have any), of the bosom itself (as if I have one), my waist and my hips and notes all these measurements down diligently. If she has seen I am a man, she does not let on. She must have! Especially as the 'man' of the couple is not convincing either!

"Please allow me a short while." She disappears behind a curtain at the back of the store.

I whisper to my sister: "Eve, what are you getting me into? Do I really need to be here to feel as a woman?"

"Buying clothes is very important, you know. We are buying these for mum, by the way, if you don't continue as cross-dresser. She'll be delighted.

"But I won't pretend I brought you here just to experience buying clothes. I wanted to show you to a woman the way you are now. See if you are up to that. She will be, by the look of things."

The shop lady returns with a skirt and a blouse, both neatly on a set of hangers. Eve takes the skirt and blouse in turn and looks at them up close and with stretched arms from a distance, feels the fabric and says:

"I like them. Paula, what do you think? Would you like to try them on or don't you like them?"

Paula, for Pete's sake!

Now, I have to speak!

I croak back in falsetto. Can't manage a better voice. "I think I really have to try them, you know, Eve. To make sure they fit." So I have given her name. God, it'll have to be. I hate myself for being so obvious. And when I have thought about it for another second, I become aware this can only spell trouble.

"So let's try them," Eve says. "Where are the dressing rooms, please?"

The shop attendant ushers us to the dressing rooms, which turn out to be quite spacious hexagonal rooms with mirrors all around.

"I will be just outside, if you need me."

"We will, so thank you."

Then we are inside, my sister and I, in this room full of mirrors. I can see hordes of us. I see myself from the back and front, from the sides.

"Stop staring at yourself, Paula. Do try on these pieces! Here, let me help you."

She unzips the skirt I am wearing and unbuttons the blouse. Can anyone tell me why I am like frozen? Why I let all of this happen to me? I am not myself.

I see myself in my underwear -- false breasts in a bra, pantyhose and panties, my genuine penis bound to the side. I am ridiculous.

Eve: "Madam, could you come in and help us?"

"What! No need for any help!", I hiss helplessly, but it is too late. I am dumbstruck. Then, somewhere, somehow, because all appears to be lost, I find a survival mechanism -- I will throw myself into this and be eager. So, I face the shop lady full front and say, using the voice I was given:

"I'd like you to put these clothes on me. This young gentleman here is not of much help. Myself, I am too coarse. Could you, please?"