Chapter 3: A Troubled Time of Change

Part of the motivation, why my mother allowed that I take the babysitting job, was that Janice was one of those women (having a resemblance to the women in our family) that my mother had picked out. To show me how I should have looked and been. Had I been the daughter, I should have been.

Janice was in fact, that very woman that my mother most often used, as an example, to prove my failings. Janice was good. I was bad. In my mother's mind, my being more around Janice, being in her house and seeing her life, would only rub in deeper the salt into my wounds.

What happened, my mother could never have foreseen. My mother's sole intentions were to punish me. She was not in the slightest bit interested, in changing me into the fantasy daughter, she had never had. I doubt, even today, that if she had had that daughter, that she would have been pleased. Reality can never be, as good as fantasy. Yet, no other person changed, or formed, me more than did Janice.

Janice's home, her husband, her family and her life were everything my dysfunctional life and family were not. They were a kind, caring, loving young family, and Janice was an extremely intelligent, and beautiful woman. Her husband a caring husband, without the machoisms of my father, and brother. He was a man who took pride, and joy, in his family, and in his work.

My first babysitting job went off without a hitch. My next babysitting job was already booked, before I left their house that night. As weeks, months, and then years went by, I became an increasingly constant figure at their house. I also became less and less, a figure at my own home. I was spending afternoons after school, and many weekends, helping Janice at their home, with her housework. I tended the babies, so that she could go out shopping alone, to have some free time, for herself.

What was important for my development at that time was my infatuation for them, as a family. Janice became my role model.

With them in my life, I finally saw the light shining at the end of the tunnel, and my mother could do nothing about it. Janice (her fantasy daughter) was my protector. Janice could do no wrong, and if Janice wanted me there, I had to be there. Their house became my haven against the cruelties of my family, and the outside world.

Ted became my image of what a real man should be like. I revolted slowly and totally against the image my father and brother presented. The mental image I have even today of a father... my father, is the image of Ted. I haven't seen him now in years, but many times during these last years, especially these last two, I wished I had had his strong caring shoulders to cry on.

What changed my life forever was Janice. In the beginning of our relationship, Janice represented to me the image of what a mother and a wife should be, but she was also my image, my role model, of what a person, and a feminine woman, should be.

I would like to say that she took over (in my mind) the image of my mother, just as Ted became my father figure, but events happened that kept me from seeing her as such then, and only now, am I slowly understanding my thoughts concerning her, and how she was essential in forming me, and who I am today.

Puberty never hit me strongly. What I first noticed was of course getting horny and having hardons all the time. It didn't take me long to figure out how to masturbate, and it became (after reading) my favorite past time.

Janice had always fascinated me, but now she became even more for me. Where I idolized her before for her personality, I now idolized her as a sexual, sensual woman. I was seriously infatuated with her. I had loved her before as a close friend, but now I was "in love" with her.

Yet as a teenager I had also put her on a pedestal high above me, only attainable in my deepest darkest fantasies. As a physical woman, she became untouchable for me.

Still, within me was such an overpowering desire to somehow unite, to bind myself, with her, my idol, my best friend, my role model, and heroine. My desire was sexual in nature, but more than just sexual. My desire was born of love, but more than love. My desire was born of adoration, but it was more than adoration.

What happened, and brought about for me this unity, began with an act not uncommon to happen amongst teenage boys.

Janice had a woman's feminine fetish for lingerie and clothing. This fetish went beyond the natural love women have for clothing. For Janice clothing was the essence of feminine sensuality and was an essential part of her sexuality. I have never since seen any woman, with so much and so many different kinds of feminine lingerie, as Janice had.

It was not unusual for me, at times to see some of Janice's feminine underwear. At home, I had for years been doing everyone's laundry. I thought nothing of helping Janice do their laundry.

But with puberty raging in my loins, it didn't take long, for me, to bring her lingerie, into association, with contact to her, and with women in general.

After that it was only a step-by-step evolution from caressing her lingerie and masturbating, to wearing her lingerie and masturbating for the simple reason of it being women's lingerie.

It also didn't take me long to figure out, that Janice and I were more or less the same sizes. I was in most things still smaller than her, but most of her clothes fit. With that knowledge, each and every babysitting night alone at their house, became a sexual adventure, into the pleasures of feminine lingerie.

It had to come then as it did, a date with fate so powerful that it almost destroyed me.

For some time I was no longer satisfied with only wearing a panty, a bra, a girdle, a slip or a nightgown and jerking off. I wanted to go all the way. I wanted to fully dress as a woman.

Once born, this idea transcended desire and lust. This idea would not leave me, or let me forget, not in my waking moments, not in my dreams. It governed my thoughts, and even in part, my actions day and night.

After they left that evening, and I had the babies soundly asleep in their cribs, I went into their bedroom. My whole body was shaking with excitement. I was aroused as I had never been before in my whole life. The thought of dressing fully, not only just in lingerie, but also in a dress, in shoes, everything that a woman would wear on a night out, had me in an uncontrollable fever of anticipation.

Savoring every moment, I choose carefully, each and every piece of clothing, that I was to wear. I picked a black lace bikini panty and pushup bra set, a black waist-controlling girdle/garter belt, to hold up my black silk stockings, a full length black slip with lace around the bottom, top, and wide lace straps, a black satin evening dress, and a set of 2" open toe black leather heels, to finish it off.

Shaking as bad as I was it took me longer than ever to dress. Even to the stage of wearing only the lingerie. Each and every piece of clothing had to be slipped on, and then in the full-length closet mirror, admired, and modeled. I was in a fit of ever-increasing sexual anticipation, beyond knowing, or caring, that there was a world outside of that bedroom.