In June of 1963, my mother gave birth to her second son. My Dad and by extenstion my Mom had been quite hopeful their second child would be a daughter, a girl. However, as sooon as the delivery doctor noticed the newborn child had a penis, the child was declared to be a boy and from that moment forward it became the role of the child’s family and those who would come to know the child to teach the boy how to be a boy. Howevef, apparently something went wrong with the process. I was that second son and while some may challenge whether or not I grew up as a girl and became a woman, there can be no question in the mind of all that I am not a man. Or at the very least a very poor excuse for a man.
At the age of nine I heard rumors of a classmate who had been caught wearing his sister’s clothes. I chuckled and found amusemenmt in this story when it was shared with me. However as soon as I heard what he had done, I had to try it for myself. Anyone who has professional credentials in the area of childhood development will tell you that a child develops their identity, including importantly their gender identity, around the age of five. When I found myself at the age of nine with an intense, undeniable desire to dress up in girl’s clothing, it was not the curious desire of an nine-year-old boy. I knew as soon as I found myself wanting to dress up that the reason I wanted to do so was because it would be feel so right for me. While it may be possible that the doctor did get it right that day nine years before when he placed me into the figurative box labled ‘BOY,’ at the age of nine, all I really wanted to be was the girl my parents had wanted me to be.
Allow me to throw out some labels for your consideration — sissy, crossdresser, faggot, queer, transvestite, tranny, transgender, transgender woman, tgirl, drag queen, cocksucker, whore, slut, cumslut, bitch, cumwhore, transwoman, transgirl, trap, woman, girl, boy, man, cuckold. There are others labels that could belong in this list but I feel this list will suffice. At one point in my life, each of these terms might have been an appropriate label to attach to myself. However, for the purposes of this introduction, let’s forget the labels and focus on what are the essential facts.
I have a penis so I am male. I often dresss up in the clothes more commonly worn by females in our society. When I am dressed up in these clothes, it is not uncommon — but in my opinion not nearly common enough — that other males will fuck me and use me in other sexual ways. While it is less of a proveable fact, it would be a fair assessment to suggest that the primary reason I like dressing up in the clothes female wear is towards the goal of be attractive to males who will use me sexually as they use females. I will even go a step further and add that I see no value in dressing up as a woman and presenting myself as a woman if doing so does not offer any likelihood of being used by men for their sexual purposes.
According to the state of Washington where I reside, I am legally a woman. My legal name is Veronica and the gender marker on my State ID is F. As this is my legal name, financial institutions, medical professionals, the federal governmemt, etc all identify me as being a woman. Because of the laws of the state of Washington, I have full access to women’s restrooms and shower facilities as well as all areas of public accomodation. However, I was born male and I am 6’3″ and weigh over 200 pounds. Whenever I am seen by others regardless of how I may be dressed, it is all but a given that most will see me as a ‘man in a dress.’ Family and friends as well as those who come to know me through other social interactions may know I am transgender. However, when I am out shopping or doing whatever in the public arena, the vast majority of those who cross my path with see someone who is obviously male and dressed as a woman. To them I will be a crossdresser — and that is merely using their most polite label.
I share these gender challenges I face for two reasons. First of all, regardless of how I may chose to identify myself, I am finding a losing battle if I hold out any expectations of being fully accepting by all as a woman. However as I have mentioned that is not my goal anyway. When I present myself as a woman, I am doing so with the hope of getting laid. Which bring me to my second reason for sharing my gender challenges. All I really care about when I present myself as a woman is that when I do so that some man will see me as ‘woman enough’ for his sexual purposes. To take this one step further, as I know I will never successfully pass as a woman, my goal when I step out as a woman is not to pass as a woman but rather to be seen as a wannabe woman who wants to be fucked.
One night I went out to a gay bar and as was my habit at the time I did not wear heels. Another girl asked me why I preferred flats to heels and I replied that I preferred heeks but being so tall heels made me too tall. She offered me this observation. ‘You are too tall to be a woman in flats and too tall to be a woman in heels. So why wear flats if you prefer heels.” It was in my opinion a wise observation. That was almost ten years ago and as I move into my mature years I see value in heeding her words. Being fifty-ish many would suggest I should dressed appropriately for a woman of my age. However, as the vast majority of those who see me will never truly see me as a woman, I do not have to dress as other women of my age should dress but as I please free of rules and social standards. In other words, if I want to dress as a woman who is simply looking to get fucked and not like a woman fearful of being seen by someone as a slut I can.
Who is Veronica Vayne? Not sure what label works best for you. However, for my purposes, I think ‘a horny bitch’ is as accurate as any.