'Me' (Who is GenderPlay)

Me (for those who are interested)

Not for one moment do I think this is an overly interesting tale or that I’m special in any way. From the conversations I’ve had with people who are ‘like’ me—my story is typical. So, I guess I’ll start from the beginning of what I remember.

I might refer to myself as ‘Dave’ in this story. Any other names will also be changed for privacy purposes, but the events are real, and I will try to explain how I felt in those moments.

I am the youngest of three brothers. I’m the smallest and, if you asked my parents, the one that moaned the most growing up. Now, being the youngest child—as those who are the youngest will know—everything is a hand-me-down, or you have to fight to get what you want. (Maybe this is why I moaned so much)

My childhood wasn’t bad. In fact, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I had a very tight-knit friendship group, and we shared many interests, from playing football to fishing. From the outside in, I probably seemed like a normal and somewhat unremarkable child.

My first memory of being different came in Primary school (for my American friends—this is elementary school). I struggled to read and write. This was caused by dyslexia, but a diagnosis for this was many years off.

I wanna say this is where my self-confidence issues started. I, at that young age, couldn’t comprehend why I was struggling so much. The letters B and D were particualary hard for me to remember which way they went around. For those that suffer from dyslexia, you’ll understand what I mean.

Frankly, I felt stupid and believed I was stupid.

I recall a moment from just after my seventh birthday. My English teacher at the time had come to blows with my parents about my older brother. He was quite the rule breaker, and I believe this teacher and my brother didn’t see eye to eye.

I didn’t realize at the time, being young, that this teacher clearly wanted to punish my family by coming after me. We’d been told to write a story for homework, which I did my very best. Being a creative sort—as I’m sure you’ve all come to see, I wrote a story about a dog.

As mentioned earlier, I had issues with B’s and D’s. My dog… was a… bog.

The teacher stood me up in front of the entire class and proceeded to mock me by reading out exactly what was written. Thinking back at it now, what a horrible moment of bullying from an adult to a small child. However, at the time, I just laughed it off. I just agreed that I was stupid and accepted it.

Laughter would soon become something to hide behind.

When I was a teenager, the TV show Friends was a huge deal and was at the height of its popularity. Many of my friends would refer to me as Chandler for the way I joked and laughed about everything. Making people smile made me feel good. Made me feel like I was worth something.

The class clown. I was happy with this.

Not being the most self-confident of boys, nor the tallest, or the most athletic, or even actually that good-looking—attention from girls was non-existent.

Except for one special person in my life. Let's call her Yasmin

Yasmin was slightly younger than me by two years. She, like me, was the youngest in her family. Her next youngest sibling was Peter, my best friend. Growing up together and going on trips and holidays as two families, I naturally spent a lot of time with Peter and Yasmin.

Yasmin, being the only girl in her family, didn’t have other girls to play with. She, like me, had all brothers. This was when I first noticed that I might indeed be different from my brothers and all the other boys I knew.

Often, when Yasmin was playing with her traditionally female toys, I’d join in. I’d happily play with dolls or such things. I’d even let her do my nails.

It was on one of these occasions that I quickly came to understand that that behavior wasn’t what the people around me wanted to see from a young boy. My dad teased me about being a girl. My brothers called me gay.

It was clear that if I was to avoid being the center of such negative attitudes/attention, I’d have to hide that part of myself. Now, this isn’t unusual from what I’ve read. Most humans develop coping behaviors around that age. We do it to survive. After all, we are naturally programmed to be machines of survival and self-preservation. Being outed by the group and isolated may have meant certain death for our ancestors.

Mine and Yasmin's relationship, I didn’t want it to change. She was my only real link to the girl that I had no idea was secretly trapped inside me.

This brings me to the first memory I have of being gender confused. I don’t remember really the details, but I do remember the feeling. Being a boy who grew up in the '90s and the early '00s, Pokemon was a massive part of my life.

One of my biggest achievements in life (when I was younger, at least) was that I completed Pokemon Red’s Pokedex just four days after its release. Let’s just say it’s a huge part of my childhood, and naturally, I played all the sequels.

This leads me to my first experience of Gender Dysphoria. Pokemon Crystal was the first game in the franchise that allowed you to choose the gender of your character. I was stuck at the first hurdle. Starting a brand new game gave me a choice that I honestly couldn’t decide the answer to.

I’m a boy, right? I thought to myself. So why do I want to choose a girl character?

I didn’t know the answer, but I knew what I wanted to choose deep down. I played that entire game as the female protagonist.

This only led my curiosity. I couldn’t speak to my mother. She wouldn’t understand or, honestly, didn’t have the time. I had questions, and the only person I could ask was Yasmin. Now, as I mentioned earlier, I didn’t want to admit anything to her. I was scared her reaction would be negative. So, when the chance arose, I would choose my words carefully and ask her questions.

What’s it like being a girl?

Do you like being a girl?

What’s it like to wear a skirt?

What’s it like having long hair?

I think, overtime, she may have also got curious about my questions. I don’t know, to this day, if Yasmin just wanted someone to talk to about ‘girly’ stuff or if she was just going along with it. However, she answered my questions with a warm smile.

If you’ve ever read/listened to the Family Friend Makeover, you’ll know where this story kinda leads. Now, that story has been changed to be more interesting, but the story itself is based on true events. One evening, for whatever reason, I was over at my friend's house, and Yasmin decided to play dress up.

She styled my hair and put it in a bow. Our excuse—Yasmin wanted to practice hairstyles if she ever cut her hair short. Incidentally, Yasmin grew up to be a hairstylist.

I’d shown interest in her school uniform. I asked a lot of questions, so without me even asking, Yasmin suggested I put it on. I undressed for her, and she passed me her knee-high socks, skirt, tights, and top.

I remember wearing the skirt to this day. It wasn’t a pleated skirt. It was almost like a pencil skirt but shorter. The garment forced my knees and legs together and restricted my movement. I was fascinated by it. It felt like nothing I’d ever worn before.

I wore her uniform for about an hour, hidden in her room. We joked around, and she gave me a girl's name – Katie. This is a name I would keep for sometime. Yasmin would then begin to practice makeup on me.

However, this was interrupted as my parents wanted to leave. When they called up for me, my heart sank. There I was, in Yasmin’s room, wearing her school uniform, with makeup on my face and a bow in my hair.

Yasmin did her best to help me get back into my clothes, but I was caught. I could tell neither of my parents really knew what to say. My dad barely spoke to me. My brothers on the other hand, they delighted in the fact they could tease me. My best friend, Peter, he was off with me for a few days.

Eventually, with my head down and those happy feelings repressed, nothing else was said. Yasmin and me didn’t really play again like that after. I think things had changed for both of us.

As I got into my teenage years and puberty hit hard, I naturally started to notice girls. I’d start to have soft spots for the ones I thought were pretty, not unlike any normal teenage boy. Like I said, I went into survival mode and repressed any of those unwanted feelings away to fit in.

Yasmin was no different. She was growing up to be a stunning young woman. Pretty long hair, cute freckles, and soft feminine curves. Even after the dress-up incident, I and Yasmin remained close, and as we got into our teenage years, I think we fell in love with each other.

I remember my first ever time drunk. It was New Year's Eve, and our families used to hold house parties for each other. I may have drunk several ciders that evening, not understanding how strong they were. I drank them like orange squash.

Obviously, I got very drunk, and in a moment that I still remember to this day, I told Yasmin that I loved her. I don’t regret that. I meant it at the time.

I don’t remember her reaction. All I remember is the embarrassment the next day. She’d told our families, and everyone was beginning to tease. K I S S I N G…. that old song sang to me several times. They did it in such a way that made me bad.

What I do regret is not having the courage to be bigger than the teasing. Yasmine came over to see me and only me the next day. Clearly wanted to be my girlfriend, but I shrugged the whole incident off. We didn’t go out. In fact, we never got together.

When I think back to those days, I do wonder if I actually loved her. I really think I just wanted to BE her. In fact, I used to make up stories in my head. I used to imagine swapping bodies with her. I used to run through the first things I’d do her body over and over again.

I loved thinking about what clothes I’d wear. How I’d style her hair, and even what shoes I’d put on my feet. This is where a love for feminine fashion started to grow. Even into my later teenage years, I’d go clothes shopping with friends who were girls just to have that interaction. Of course, I’d play it cool with my suggestions not to seem so keen, but I’d be delighted if they went with my ideas.

This leads me to the next big ‘moment’ in my life. I had no access to trendy female clothing (only the frumpy stuff my mother wore that I had no interest in.) Yasmin used to wear flared jeans. I loved the way those jeans started on her body. I was so very jealous of her, and I had to know how they felt to wear for myself.

One evening, while around their house, I snuck into their laundry room and pulled out the jeans I liked (that. were ready to be washed). Now, I’m not proud of this, but this just shows how desperate I was to have some feminity in my life. With my heart beating like crazy, I took down my trousers and put hers on.

I loved how tight those jeans clung to me. I loved how they had a tiny zip. I loved how they had no pockets. To steal them without anyone knowing, I put my trousers back over the top and swiftly left. I got home with them still on and quickly stashed them under my bed.

I felt bad, but the rush made me feel so alive. It was so exciting to finally have my own pair of flared girl's jeans that I could wear when I was alone.

Now, for you as the reader, I’m sure you’ve had something similar in your life. A stash of clothing hidden from everyone else. I’m sure you also know that sometimes these stashes get found. These jeans were no different. My Mom found them when cleaning.

My parents confronted me about the jeans and I lied as much as I could to see innocent. I told them I had no idea how they got there. My dad, he just shook his head and asked, “Son, do you have a thing for girl's clothes?”

I strongly denied it. Looking back, this may have been a moment to confess those feelings buried deep inside, but I was scared and afraid of what they meant. My parents, although not bad people, didn’t ever really show an ‘understanding’ side. Growing up, they were suspicious of anyone different. Trans folk were no different.

After that night, the jeans were taken away and nothing more was said. Although I was never accused of stealing them, I’m not sure what happened to those jeans. I never saw Yasmin wear them again.

At this point in my life, things became complicated with sadness in the family. One of my older brothers sadly passed away. I didn’t really think about anything at this time. I remember just being numb.

As my time at high school came to a close, I’d built up quite the friendship group. Sadly, my friendship with Yasmin and Peter had changed over time as we all gew apart. Obviously, we were still friends, but our lives meant we didn’t see each other as often.

I remember, from time to time, I’d put on my mother's bra to feel the rush of dressing, but my  ‘urges’ weren’t as strong for some reason. I don’t know if it was because I was finally growing in confidence as a man (getting girlfriends and becoming sexually active).

It was only after friends went to university (moving away) that those darkening feelings began to return. Something in my life felt like it was missing.

Now, as I’ve stated many times, the internet wasn’t what it is now. I had no access to information regarding gender issues. At that time, gay rights was still a hot topic, with many of the same slurs thrown towards trans people now being thrown at them. For example, my gran had a gay neighbor, and she’d actively want us to avoid him (I assume she thought we’d ‘catch’ if we got close…?)

Long story short—I felt lonely and lost. I felt broken and unable to explain why I had a dark cloud over me at all times. I couldn’t explain to myself why I was so interested in what the girls around me were wearing or doing.

I couldn’t understand the jealousy building up inside me.

The only thing I knew was that wearing women’s clothes made me feel good about myself.

Now, by this time, my older brother had moved out. I had so much more time alone in the house and job to fund any activities I wanted. EBay was my friend. I’d buy any second-hand women's clothes I could get my hands on.

Heels, dressed, cami’s, tops, panties, bras, wigs. Makeup—you name it.

When I had time, I’d practice walking in heels. I’d wear the panties under my normal clothes. I’d brush out the wig while it was on my head. All those things we ‘gurls’ (as we were referring to ourselves on the forums back then) were doing.

In fact, writing this, I got curious. I found the old forum I used to post on. Some of my early twenties cross-dressing pictures are still up alongside all the lovely comments from the other ‘gurls’ who showed this young, gender-confused cross-dresser the first hints of real encouragement and community.

People often ask me, ‘Why do you do Genderplaybooks?’

Those lovely ladies back on that forum made me feel good about myself. You’ve gotta understand that instant gratification wasn’t so much a thing back then. I couldn’t start an account on Instagram and get dick pics by that afternoon. Those ‘gurls’ gave me confidence in my young and very skinny self that I could actually be cute and attractive—just like the girl me, not the boy me.

It's the same for GenderPlay Books. If the stories and community helps even one person, then Its mission is complete in my eyes.

I felt broken and alone. I felt wrong and dirty at times. If only I’d had somewhere to help me understand who and what I was. That’s the positivity I want to bring. Interesting stories, but at their heart—allow me to process and others to understand.

Now, eventually, I would meet my wife and partner to this day. A free spirit with a really laissez-faire attitude to everything. She, with much more open and out their parents, would be the first person, other than Yasmin, I’d talk to about my cross-dressing.

Let’s call her Betty.

Betty has been the love of my life. We’ve been together for many years. Now, it didn’t take me long to feel safe with her. I shared ‘Katie’ with Betty months into our relationship. She was very understanding and curious, as Yasmin had been years earlier. However, this time, I had a safe environment to explore myself in

She taught me so much. She helped me practice makeup and gave me outfit suggestions. She even suggested that I post cross-dressing tutorials on YouTube (around 2010) Funny thing is that, I posted my first video of me doing makeup. A day later, I checked the video, and it had 200 subscribers after only a few hours.

I instantly panicked, thinking someone would recognize me and deleted the video and the channel. Shame really. I could have been one of the first influencers in that space. However, I don’t regret it—that only spurred me on to do more.

Soon after that, I dressed more and more elaborate. Forms were brought and I became more confident that I could pass.

My first time out dressed as a girl was a trip to the shops. I wore Ugg boots, tights, a mini skirt, and a shawl-type thing with a scarf. Very much what the girls at the time were wearing. I was terrified to speak to anyone (Self-service tills didn’t exist), so I went into the store, looked around, and left.

I wasn’t sure if the looks I was getting from people were because I looked nice or because they knew I was a boy. Still not sure to this day (however, I wish I still looked that now. I was cute IMO)

As I got older and my family grew (yes, the pitter-patter of tiny feet) time to do any dressing became slim. Although my partner was open to trying to do things with me in the bedroom, as I got older, my body confidence faded with time.

Dad’s bods are real, guys.

This leads me to now. Covid hit, I was bored and as I said earlier, I enjoyed making stories up. (I wish I’d kept some of the stories I used to write in my teenage years. However, I’d probably cringe at all the spelling errors)

Having been a barista at one point in my life, I’d always had the fantasy that I’d swap bodies with one of the female staff (for whatever reason). This is where the inspiration for the Barista Championship Exchange came from. If you’ve not seen or read that series, you’re welcome to have a look. It’s in the eBook collection.

It is a very early work of mine—focused very much on the NSFW aspects (as that’s what I thought people would want to read)

I don’t know what else to say from this point on, honestly. I love writing these stories, and the lovely people I’ve met doing it enrich my life. There are several people I want to shout out.

Firstly, Cynthia. She quickly took an interest in my work and if it wasn’t for her commissions in those early days, GenderPlay Books might not have been what it is today.

Secondly, Mystral. A streamer who’s active today. Mystral took a shine to Sonya’s Story, and that gave me real confidence. Also, being such a lovely person, she helped me deal with the negativity the internet can throw at you (esp with trans content)

Third, Loona. My friendly neighborhood witch! You’ve been such a supporter of me, and I really don’t deserve it. Just thinking about it brings a tear to my eye. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Fourth. Nikki. In fact, Nikki commissioned me to write this. I think you wanted me to write a story about myself coming out as trans and living my best life. Sorry, hon :P I used this as an opportunity to reflect on myself. Thank you for supporting me and being a friend!

Fith, all those on the Patreon who have been long-term supporters. You know who you are. I might not mention you by name, but I see your names regularly and your comments. Thank you. As I’ve said many times before – this wouldn’t be possible without you.

Sixth, all those who continue to support the platforms I use. Youtube, DA, Insta etc etc. As someone who suffers from dyslexia, I’m honored that you are interested in my stories. It brightens my day to see conversations about my characters. Thank you

Lastly, you who’s read 2 this point. I’m not that interesting, really, so thank you.

I wonder what life with bring in the next few years. Who knows. However, if you feel for any of what I’ve said about, let me know in the comments. We’re all in it together, so let's support each other. One day, we’ll invent that genderswapping machine…huh? XD

Peace out

GPB’s

Aka

Katie or Sophie. (depends on how long you’ve known me)