Dealing with being a Femboy

Since puberty, I started growing breasts instead of the male characteristics I was supposed to develop, because I was born with a penis.  I figured my body knew what it was doing and went with it.  Of course, I found it difficult to be one of the boys with a set of tits, so I went with being a femboy.

I guess I could have made more of an effort to look like a boy, but I often got carried away with my girly look.

I found out that crossing the gender divide didn't go over very well with the world I was living in.  So, by necessity, I became a loner.  It was a difficult way to live but I couldn't seem to break out of the victim slot I found myself in.  Then one day I met someone who changed my life.  He appeared to be a femboy but didn't see himself as a victim.

He tried to tell me being a girl with a penis was more fun than being a girl with a vagina.  I had trouble believing him because of how my world had been treating me.  But he said he would introduce me to a different kind of world.  First, he took me to where he worked, which turned out to be a big company where he had a secretary and a luxurious office.

Come to find out, my new friend, Fred, owned the company.  So now I found myself in a world of rich people instead of poor people.  I kept being girly in our relationship.

As he became more boyish.

But I found not much difference between how I was treated by rich people as I had been treated by poor people.  Except for the fact that Fred would fire their ass if he caught them being mean to me.  So they treated me better out of fear, which wasn't all that wonderful.

Basically I became his kept woman with a penis, but neither one of us was into sex so it was a plutonic relationship.  And after a while of presenting as a girl, it didn't matter that there was a penis in my panties.

I had to admit that my life was better now that I was Fred's kept woman, but I knew it took a lot of money to maintain this level of contentment.  And I couldn't stop wondering if I could maintain this level of happiness on my own.

So I left Fred and his comfortable world behind and went out on my own again.  The first thing I noticed was that I started to feel and look more like a femboy than a girl with a penis.

But I still liked wearing skirts.

and nylons

and of course, I still dress up girly.

But now, no matter how I look, my mind always materializes what I need and I am free to be me.