A feminized basket ball player

The power of childhood conditioning is enormous. When my step-sister died in a car accident my freshman year in college (she was drunk at the wheel) my first reaction was to finally feel free of her torment. But as time passed, as I was no longer “forced” to dress as a girl by my step-sister, I found I was just as mentally compelled to do so as if my step-sister were still alive taunting me and threatening to expose me to the town paper with pictures she had taken. I got an erotic charge out of dressing up, and through collage, I began to collect different articles of female clothing. As I grew up poor, my college dormitory was the only safe haven I had. I often had close calls, when I would just manage to pull a sweatshirt over my head covering up the black lacy training bra I was wearing as my room mate entered the room.

Still I never was caught, and in my mind, my fetish was a harmless enough diversion. On Halloweens I would often dress as a girl and go to school parties. In these atmospheres, my deviant behavior was viewed as normal college fun, and sometimes I could even manage to dance with a few of the guys on my basketball team. I acted for all I was worth like the team clown, and they were happy to play along, thinking all the while that I was just goofing around – joking. Little did they know ho much time I would spend styling my shoulder length blond hair, applying eye liner just so, and picking out the perfect dress to compliment my nearly hairless, lithe young body, to look good for them.