Virgin Slut Cravings.

A night club dancer lived in my neighborhood and I was attracted to her from the moment I laid eyes on her. My attraction was not sexual, but more wishful and envious of her great looks and body. She looked like a doll, the kind of doll that I often dreamed of becoming. Her eyes and lips were colorful and gorgeous, and just as perfect as I wanted mine to be. Female urges would hit me each time I caught a glimpse of her. I was about 8 or 9 years old the first time I got a tingle from the sight of her. Her gorgeous blonde hair added to my infatuation with her. I had always dreamed about having hair of gold and being one of her girlfriends. Sometimes I would even dream about being her, and being ravished by a strong man, and making love endlessly. These fantasies continued until she moved away a few years later. I didn’t really miss her because I had stored so many vivid memories of her inside my head. I had started imitating her walk when I was alone and feeling fem. Just walking like she did, gave me thrills and tingles.
Eventually I got into watching another fine lady who wore pretty clothes and sweet perfume. I started having similar dreams about her. I didn't want any of the things that other boys my age wanted. At times guys would call me a sissy and even tease me about my wide hips, shapely legs, and man boobs. I hated those macho bastards. I was tired of the closet, so I started hanging out at gay friendly places. They were talking about me and ridiculing me anyway, so I decided that I was coming out, at least partially.
The first night I went to a club, I almost didn't go through with it. I had worked at Mc Donalds and got one of my coworkers to get a room in her name. I lied and said that I had a hot date and needed a place. Once I was inside the room with my makeup and clothes, I was excited as hell as I started the process of transforming into Rhonda Jones.
I took a couple of hours and tried to look like some of the models inside the fashion magazines that I had been reading. I felt like I knew how to apply make-up because I was an amateur artist. I thought knowing the structure of the face would aid me in doing my make-up. I was right. I felt so different once I made my face up just like my ex-neighbor and got into full drag from head to toe. I could still wear my mother’s shoes and was rocking her nicest pair.