How I Became a Faggot, Chapter 1

A lot of transvestites with webpages have a section discussing how they started crossdressing. Offering an explanation seems natural enough. After all, what guy wants to end up in a gold dress, blond wig, lipstick and high heels? I know I didn't.

But I did anyway. I ended up trying on 4-inch white pumps at Bakers while two giggling teenage girls took my picture with their cell phones. I ended up with my first serious girlfriend walking in on me while I was masturbating in her bra and panties. I ended up on my knees with another man's dick in my mouth.

So how did this happen to me? How did I ruin my life?

It started with a pair of saddle shoes. I went to an all-boys school. We didn't have uniforms, but the all-girls sister school did. White blouse, plaid skirt, and black and white saddle shoes. The two schools ran a joint, co-ed kindergarten at the girls school, which I attended. In black and white saddle shoes. Yeah, that's right. Thanks to my mother's fashion sense, I began my education as the the only boy wearing saddle shoes amid a sea of girls in them. At first I hated my saddle shoes and the teasing they brought me. But slowly, over the course of the school year, I began to like wearing them. So much so that when I went to the boys school the following year for first grade, I asked my mother for another pair. Somewhere inside of me, in some way I didn't understand, a switch had been flipped.

But was it really that simple, that innocent? Did being made to wear saddle shoes in kindergarten turn me into the sissyboy I am today? If I'd worn sneakers instead of saddles then, would I be wearing boxers instead of panties now? Would I fantasize about fucking women instead of being fucked by men? Would I never have become what I am: a humiliated transvestite faggot?