Dressing For A Date With Rick

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I Worship The Cock

Being Accepted As Veronica

Without question, with only the rarest of exception, at the time of our birth, we are all tagged as neither 'boy' or 'girl.' "He's a boy" or "She's a girl" are proclaimed by the doctor and not "He's a male" or "She's a female." However this tag, whichever it may be, is not entirely accurate. We are not born boys or girls. We are born males and females. What is the distinction? "Boy' and 'girl' are socially defined and 'male' and 'female' are physical distinctions.

Now admittedly throughout most of human history, this distinction between 'girl' and 'female' would have been inconsequential.  However,  the world is changing and so are gender rolels.  Whether one approves or not, an ever-increasing number of 'boys' are discarding their gender identity and adopting the life of being a girl.

We can argue about why this is and why some boys identify as girls, but going past the argument it is the way it is for some boys, for some girls.  As I have mentioned elsewhere, I cannot recall a time in my life when I saw myself as a boy.  I identified as a girl.  As I was growing up, I did not mimic the mannerisms and habits of boys.

 I learned how to be a girl by watching other girls.  As a young 'boy' of say five, it was just as easy for me to learn how to be a 'girl' as it was for me to learn how to be a 'boy.'  It is often suggested that the hardest skills for a crossdresser to learn are those of walking (movement) and talking.  I never learned how a boy should walk, how a boy talks.  I learned how a girl walks and a girl talks.

From day one in Spokane, I was Veronica.  I would be Veronica all but full time for the next five years of my life.  I saw myself as a girl.  To Mom, I was her daughter, her little girl.  And the world saw what the world expected to see when they saw me.  While I do not like to think of it as 'fooling' others, as a young girl of six, no one saw me as a boy.

And by the time I was older, many who knew me had known me for years. I had always been Veronica to them and they saw few clues if any that I was not entirely as I seen.  Being a girl had become some natural to me that as I grew older, the charade simply ceased to be a charade.

Maybe all of this goes without saying.  A boy raised as a girl is not all that uncommon I suppose.  I did however feel it was important to stress that as I saw myself as a girl, it was natural for others to see me as a girl.  This is particuarly -- and to my life story -- most relevant when it came to boys.  Young boys saw me as a young girl.  So they acted towards me as young boys act towards young girls.  And I acted towards them as a young girl.

As we -- the boys I knew in my Spokane neighborhood and I -- grew older, they had always known me as a girl and as their feeling towards girls changed so did their feelings towards me.  Eric and I 'dated' for a few weeks.  He was I guess my first boyfriend, but we never did anything more than kiss and make out a little.

Why am I reluctant to tag him as a 'boyfriend?'  Eric would take me out to movies and for lunch.  He was very sweet to me. Incredibly sweet.  I was already sucking cock as one of my favorite pleasures and I could not get him to sum up the courage to feel me up.  And when I touched him, he would pull away.   And he would do so even if I had noticed that he had an erection,  I wish he had let me go further.   From all indications, he had a big dick for a boy his age.

Our Move To Spokane

It was February and I was in the first grade when my father was killed in an automobile accident. He had been a high school teacher and the basketball coach so he was quite well known in Rosalia. I will not speak about my dad on these pages. Not only are my memories blurred when it comes to my father, but as far as my life as Veronica unfolded he had no real role.

Within a few months, my mother's grandfather also passed after a lenghty bout with cancer. Between insurance settlements from the accident and the inheritance Mom got from her grandfather's estate, Mom describe our financial situation as 'comfortable.' She would not say we were rich, but on occasion she would add 'Very comfortable' with a smile.

It was to my understanding somewhat commonly know around Rosalia that Mom could never have another child -- such is life in a small community.  Between this tradegy and those that had befallen her in recent weeks, Mom felt as though every treated her with too much sympathy and compassion, verging on pity.  So one day she suggested that  we should sell our home and move into Spokane where she already had the dance studio business.

My mother had always kept my hair longer than most boys as was also my preference. After the accident, Mom had a lot that had to be handled including the deteriorating health issues of her grandfather. Getting me a haircut was never became a priority for her and by the time school was out my hair was quite long.

Once school was out, I pretty much spent all of my time as Veronica, including our trips into Spokane to shop.  I also had time to work on some dancing and made a few videos to post on YouTube.

On the day we were to move into our new home, as we were approaching Spokane, I asked my Mom a question.  "Now that we will be living in Spokane all the time, does that mean that I can be Veronica all the time?"  Over the last two or three years, Mom and I had made dozens of trips into Spokane and more often than not I had gone as Veronica so being in Spokane and being Veronica seemed interlocked.

Mom however shook her head and said that it would be not possible.  She then began very silent and after glancing my way several times she said, "You know Veronica.  There is one option we could consider."  While Mom was willing to homeschool me, she stressed that there may come a time when she would feel it was best for me to go to public school -- "As a boy."  She made me promise to respect that condition and then we started making plans for her and Veronica.

With the exception of a few family get-togethers I would spend the next five years of my life living a life of a girl.

I Was Never A Boy

I was never a boy. While this may seem to be a bold assertion, it is a core essential of my life. I may have been declared a boy by the doctor after delivery. My parents may have told all of their friends and family that I was a boy. My dad may have thought of me as a boy and I may have stood in the boy line in the first grade when we lined up to go outside for recess. None of this made me a boy.

As I have grown older, my memories of my earliest years have become foggier.  But I can not recall a single time in my life when I felt as though I was a boy.  Every memory I have of these early years are memories of me and Mom, Mom and Veronica, with the singular exception of some memories of me and my dad.  But even in  these memories I am trying to be the son he wanted me to be, which was an effort.  Being the daughter to my Mom always came effortlessly.

There may have been a time when I had questions as to whether or not I was a boy or a girl. There was probably a time when I did not think of myself as a girl which is to also say I did not think of myself as a boy. But to the best of my memory, I always saw myself as a girl.

In my youngest years, it was inconsequential to me that I had a penis.  Girls wore dresses and boys did not and I wore dresses.  Enough said.

As I grew older, as I came to understand that there was more to being a girl than wearing dresses and that having a penis was not something girls had, it remained inconsequential.  Imagine me as pictured in the pink dress above.  Did I feel any less pretty because underndeath my dress inside my panties was a penis.  Not in the least.

There would come a time in my life when I would have loved to had had a vagina like other girls, when I almost hated that I had a penis between my legs, but that would be years in the future.

I wanted to share this with you because I grew up as a girl.  I did not act as girls acted.  I acted as a girl does.  I did not wear dresses and panties as a costume.  I wore them because I am a girl.  I did not like boy because girls like boys.  I liked boys because I am a girl.

My life should not be seen as that of a boy striving to be a girl.  I am a girl and I simply lived my life as a girl does.   If at time, this may seem confusing to you, know that it was never confusing to me.

My First Performance

As a young girl of eight, I was seen by most of the adults who knew me as either their daughter's stiffest competition in beauty pageants or as the worse I society has to offer.  I was a regular contestant in beauty pageants for  preteen girls.

To many the girl I had become was a aberration.  They disapproved of those mother who dress their daughters up in dress too old for their age, put them in wig and makeup and then parade them for the world to judge.  And yet many of  them may of disapproved of the way my mother was raising me, imagine how much more disapproving they would have been if they knew that beneath that makeup was a boy's face.

At the time of his photo, I had been competing for two solid years and as the circle of girls and mothers who compete is quite small, I was never challenged.  I was merely accepted as just another girl who wore too much makeup for her age.

However I had been performing for almost four years.  As I mentioned in the overview tab introduction, my mother owned a small dance studio.  One day she learned of a talent contest at a local mall.  She had two months to put together an act, but she only had one full-time student.  She saw the talent show for preteens as a means of promoting her business.

One night Dad was out of town.  (He was the coach of the Rosalia High School basketball team and they had a game.)  I was dressed as a girl as was norm when it was just Mom and I.  Mom was listening to music and I was dancing to the music.  At one point she stopped and watched me.  When the song was over, she said she wanted to talk.  We talked and she told me of her plans for the next day.

At her studio the next day, she had myself and Antonio sit down and she told us of the talent show and her plans to have the two of us dance together.  And then she said, "There is however a problem.  The dance needs one of you to be a girl and one of you to be her dance partner.  Now which one of you is willing to be the girl."  If Antonio had raised his hand, Mom was going to ask him if his parents would mind.  But he didn't and neither did I -- as instructed.  She shook her head as if disappointed and then she turned to look directly at Antonio.  "Antonio I don't know how your parents will feel about you being the 'girl' so I think it is best if I have Glen be the girl.  Are you okay dancing with Glen as if he was a girl?

"Will Glen have to wear a dress?"

Mom smiled.  "Yes, Glen will have to wear a dress."  And then looking my way, she added.  "We will have to find a very pretty dress for Glen to wear."

It was the first time I would ever perform before a crowd.  It felt great being seen by all those people as a girl.  After the dance, several adults came up to Mommy and I and told her what a talented and pretty girl she had for a daughter.

How I Came To Be Mommy's Little Girl

I am quite certain that it was never some sinister plan of my mother to raise me as a girl. That I grew up to be a girl was did without question bring her a great deal of joy and happiness, but I am also convinced that she had to on occasion question herself for some of the decisions she had made.

Yet while I do not feel it was her design for my life that I become her little girl, I am equally convinced that as Veronica I am the end  product of her hopes and dreams.  I truly believe if she had not found pleasure in having a 'daughter' that I would have never become her little girl.

As I shared in the overview  tab, Mom wanted a daughter and complications during child birth left a second child other than myself, a son, behind.  By her own admission, Mom went into a state of depression.  As she would later share with me, the only times she ever truly felt happy were those occasions she would dress me up as a girl.  In our youngest years, all it takes is a dress and a ribbon in the hair and one is seen as a girl toddler.

There are times in our lives when a mother's smile, shared laughter, a loving embrace, a kiss on the cheek, a casual compliment can have an enormous impact on us.  I truly feel that at a time when I was coming to know myself most of the positive reinforcement that came my way came to me as a girl and not as a boy.

While I am confident that Mom never intended to seal my fate, I am quite certain that over my infant and t toddler  years I continually got the message that Mommy was happier with me as a girl.   And I wanted Mommy to be happy.  And given my limited understanding of 'boy' and 'girl' I took pleasure in being a girl for Mommy.

I entitled this post 'How I Came To Be Mommy's Little Girl."  I chose this title because there are reasons behind my preferences as a young boy of six for my wanting to be a girl.  As I grew older, those reasons ceased to have the same relevance. As I grew older, I had the ability (but never the desire) to change my life.

 By the start of my high school career, the most important choices regarding my life, particualrly as related to Veronica, were my choices. There was never a time in my life when I felt I could not have approached my mom about being a boy again.

I simply had no desire to do so.  And of course once I turned eighteen, I was legally an adult and all my choices were my own.  And I chose to continue life as Veronica.

The Cuckold Husband Part One

While this blog is to be largely a fantasy on the life of one Veronica Glenne Vayne, I find myself wanting to begin by sharing something of who I am.

I am going to begin with my marriage to Ann.  I meet Ann at Spokane Falls Community College.  I asked her out on a first date in early February and I proposed marriage in mid-March.    If that seems quick it is helpful to note that I lost  my virginity just a few night before.  Yes, I was eighteen years old and  still a virgin and yes I proposed marriage to the first woman to spread her legs for me and take my dick.

While she did not say "yes' that first time, a month later when I proposed again, she did say yes.  I did not tell her at the time that I was a crossdresser.  It would be another year plus before we were  to marry and  during this time it was not uncommon for me to ask her out, take her to a movie, fuck her on the way home and  then as I was making the drive home stopping by a Goodwill box to check it out for any good clothes.  Not ucommonly I would find a secluded spot and change into a dress and do my makeup at a gas station I had found that kept their restroom unlocked.

Should I have told her the truth?  Unquestionably.  But I did not. So unbeknowst to her Ann married a man who had real issues with his gender identity.  When I watch this video, I can truly see myself as him and Ann as her.  (If you would like to see more in this series, they are all at The Cuckold, a playlist I have built on YouTube.)

Ann was a bit of a bitch and she would have been prefect for the role of Jen in this video.  Would it have bothered me to know that she would be going out and fucking other men?  Yes it would have.  But at the same time, I would have been envious of her.  And when Jen is talking about his peepee,  it could easily be Ann talking about my cock.  Below is a video of a husband destined to be a cuckold.

My Last Beauty Pageant

At the age of fourteen, I entered my last 'official' beauty pagaent.  I did not win nor even place but I truly felt I had rarely looked lovelier.  While I am wearing a wig (as we all did) and there is nothing more than a pair of falsies in my bra (probably not the only girl in the pageant with this secret), the girl you see here is the girl I had become by the age of fourteen.

The reason I had to be use falsies at the age of fourteen is not unrelated to the special panties I wore.  There were certain things I wanted to be seen (or suggested) and others that could not be revealed.  You see I was not born as a girl.  I was born as a boy.  (Or was I?  Why I am this girl at the age of fourteen may be compelling evidence that I was never truly a boy.

As I mentioned, this was my last pagaent.  Mom and I both agreed that I was getting too old to compete in pageants for young girls such as myself,  While I may could have continued  to compete, older girls had breasts they could show off and I did not.  And as an older contestant I would have lost the shield I got from always having my mother at my side.

I had been competeing in beauty pageants since I was about seven years old.  That I had been competitive for so long is one of the reasons I suspect I was still able to get away with competing at the age of fourteen.  I had won several different pageants over the years (or was among the top contenders) so most of the mothers saw me as competition for their daughters.  It most likely never occurred  to them that a girl who had done so well might be truly a boy.

While I did enjoy competing, and had only a few months before looked upon this last planned pageant with sadness, I had come to have a different mindset in recent weeks.  I had discovered boys.  And while I did enjoy the hours and hours I spent competing in these beauty contest, they simply did not compare to the fun I had with boys.

Needless to say there is a great deal that transpired in my life before this last pageant and I feel it is important that you know my whole story.

Allow me to begin my stressing that it was not my mother's plan that I would become Veronica.  I know this with absolute and complete certainty.  Yes, she did want a daughter.  And yes she was pleased to raised me as a daughter.  But she would not have loved me less if I had been a son for her and she did not love me more because I came to be her daughter.  The path that I traveled I traveled with her support.  It was always my choice.  That said, I loved being her daughter and it pleased me to please her as her daughter.

I have shared these thoughts because while I do not feel that it was ever the intention of my mother to make a girl of me, I also feel that I 'got the message' that I was suppose to be a girl. If this sound confusing, know that each of us encourage those we love in every smile we share, every laugh, every look. And while I know that Mom did not have plans for me to be a girl, I also know it made her happiest when I being a girl.

It is also important to note that while maybe when I was younger the choices were more her choices then mine.  However, as I grew older, the choices were more my choices than hers.  And every time I had a choice to make that between Veronica and Glen, I always chosed Veronica.  This included the career choice I made when I was older.

Now before I tell you about my last beauty pageant, you may want to know about my first. And you cannot learn about my first until you learn more about how Veronica came to be the girl she is, a girl worthy of competing in beauty pageants.