Kirk III

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“I am James T. Kirk,”  Kirk started, trying his best to tune out the sound of his tea kettle voice, “and I am, as Doctor McCoy testified, a woman.  We meet here today to judge my fitness to serve as captain of the star ship Enterprise, a position I have held for two years.

“And, why, I ask, has my fitness become an issue?  Not due to my performance, nor due to my health nor for any reason for which their is precedence for removal of a star ship captain.  My fitness has become an issue because when star fleet named me captain, I was a man.  And now, as we can all see, I am most certainly a woman.  Or, I have the body of a woman.  But has it changed me mentally?  Has it made me somehow different from the man appointed captain of this ship, and who served in that role with distinction?”

He took a few steps and turned slightly away from the cameras, as if pondering, though he had worked the whole speech out.  He didn’t see all the eyes of the tribunal drop to his behind, then his long, bare legs.

Kirk turned back to the cameras.  “Am I the same man I was inside?  That’s the question, isn’t it?  Because, if I am the same man, then there is no reason to make a change.  The man I was has done this job.  Is he still in here, in this body?”

He nodded, paused, and then said, “The answer is no.  I am not that man anymore.”

He saw the looks of surprise on the faces of the old men, and hid his own smile.  “Oh, the psyche evaluations say nothing has changed.  And I have all my memories and training.  But I am not the same James Kirk.   I am now a woman, and I have lived as a woman, and I can not claim to be the same man I was; however, I can insist that I am now a better person!”

He was getting excited now, and he paced, glancing at Rand, seeing her nod, glancing at Spock and seeing him allow a momentary flash of emotion to creep through.  “I am uniquely qualified to captain this ship because I now understand my entire crew.  I have lived as a man in a man’s body, and I am now living as a woman in a woman’s body.  My crew consists of men and women.  The various species that populate our universe most frequently exhibit sexual differentiation.   Who better to contact those new civilizations than a person, a captain, who knows what it is to be male and female?  Captain, and, yes, at one point, slave girl?”

He punched his fist into his palm.  “Star Fleet made the right choice when they assigned this ship to me, and I say that choice is even better now that I stand before you, a young woman, ready to be the first female to captain a star ship in this, the greatest federation, the universe has ever known!”

The crew stood and applauded.  Kirk stood at attention, his big, brown eyes sparkling with pride and hope.  When the applause died down, the leader of the tribunal said.  “Excellent speech, honey.  You did very well.  This tribunal has determined that Captain James T. Kirk will be replaced as Captain of the Enterprise. ”

“What?”  Kirk said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“She will retain her rank and pay grade, but will be reassigned in the chain of command to a subordinate position as determined by her new commanding officer, Captain Sean Finnegan.”

Sean Finnegan?  My tormentor from my academy days?  Inside, Kirk felt his stomach turn, felt himself grow sick, but he retained his mask of calm.  “Thank you,” he said.  “I will serve with honor.”

“Very good, Miss Kirk.  You are a lovely girl, and I am sure you will be an asset to the crew.  Good day.”

As soon as the screen went blank, crew members came up to console Kirk, and he heard them, but only from a distance.  His body felt suddenly like a prison, and the tight, constricting dress, the feeling of his bra straps digging into his shoulders, it all brought back to him the sudden, shocking reality that he had lost his ship, he was no longer captain.

Eventually, as people began to disperse, Rand appeared, gathering him into her arms for a sisterly hug.  “I’m so sorry!  It’s so unfair.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kirk admitted to her in a small, almost whisper.  “I never expected to lose her.”

“Come,” Rand said, taking his hand.  “Let’s go to my room, and we can drink some wine and talk all about it.  Would you like that, sweety?”

Kirk nodded.  ‘Yes.”  Holding Rand’s hand, he followed her from the room, eyes down, feeling like he’d lost everything, and that he would never know happiness again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Day with Miss Vera

“Do you want to go out?”   Miss Vera asked me on the phone.

“You mean as in outside?”

“Yes.”

I sat there in silence, struggling with the question.  I had never gone out.  So I said, “I don’t think so.  I just want to have the experience in your school and maybe I will go out next time.”

“Okay,” Miss Vera said, adding something very gentle about me maybe changing my mind.

I struggled sleeping the night before my day.   I did not feel fear, or shame, but pure excitement.  Somehow, this had all just opened up in me, and I found myself ready for the experience.  Some part of  me felt that I was about to get some answers for questions that had bothered me my whole life, especially the one that goes like this:  what the hell am I?

Arriving at Miss Vera’s building, the doorman greeted me, and I told him I was there to see Veronica Vera.   He sent me up, and as I got on the elevator the mirrors were all draped with thick clothes, which I found odd, but when I got off on her floor there were mirrors, and I saw myself looking bright and excited in my boy form.   The hall was dark and brown and tan, but as soon as Miss Vera let me into her school I found myself in a world of pinks with opera music playing lightly in the background, Miss Vera greeting me with a smile, calling me by my femme name, Taylor.

Miss Vera has a calm and accepting spiritual essence that invites trust, and once we  performed the commitment ceremony, I immediately got en femme, with gaff, bra, panties and a breast forms, plus a dressing gown and slippers.  I walked out nervously to the room where Miss Vera and her deans, Miss Bridie, dean of cosmetology, and Miss Veronica, Dean of High Heels waited.

This was probably the most nervous I felt the whole day, as I felt chubby and old– and hairy.  But the women were all super nice and supportive, and they got me right into the make-up chair where Dean Bridie went to work, explaining some of the techniques she used as she went along, while Miss Veronica worked on my nails.  I got a few glimpses of myself as we went along, watching nervously as we progressed thinking, I hope I don’t look ugly!

Okay.  There.  I did have some fear before heading in, but not the fear I had lived with my whole life of doing what I was about to do, but the fear that I would look terrible. Once she was finished– and it took a while–  I got a good look at myself, and I was– surprised and relieved.

“You did an amazing job!”  I said to Miss Bridie.  “I can’t even believe it.”   The ladies all complimented me, and I admitted my big fear about looking terrible, to which I heard a response which would be common throughout the day.  “A lot of the girls who come here feel that way.”

One thing I learned from this experience: I am not alone in my feelings and interests and fears when it comes to gender.

The make-up was awesome, and then came the wigs.  First they put me in a wig I brought, and then the girls started to pick out different wigs, and I got to see myself with different looks and hair colors and styles.  It was a lot of fun– the whole day was fun– and we talked about who I looked like and what types– country singer!  Miss Bridie would call out, and then the next wig, “Suburban Housewife” and then the next, “someone sophisticated, a politician running for office.”  Each time we took pictures and I got up and looked at myself from different angles, and we talked about the personas and I enjoyed seeing and imagining different aspects of myself.

I ended up sticking with a dark brunette-red wig, in part because they all seemed to love it, but also because something about the look resonated with me.

Then came dresses and posing, and training in heels.  Miss Veronica called me Miss Taylor the whole time, and proved herself a nurturing, patient and skilled teacher.  We worked on posture and the walk, arm swinging, turning and sitting– and both she and Miss Vera gushed with praise for how quickly I picked it up and how well I walked.  “Have you been practicing?”  Miss Vera asked.

I had walked around for only a brief time in heels at my place because I was worried I would practice wrong, so it seemed I was a natural, but my insecurities ate at me and I finally asked, “Do you say this to everyone?”

They assured me their praise was sincere, and I am sure it was, just as I feel all their praise was sincere.  Why?  Because one of the things Miss Vera mentioned to me when I told her I felt fat was that we should all work on accepting ourselves as we are, which I believe she truly believes, and therefore she can of course see any person as their beautiful self because she is not judging them against any external ideal.  I had worked for years to accept myself, and I just now realized hearing her repeat the phrase that I had a long way to go in terms of accepting my female self.

Finally, after some changes and photo shoots and an adventure where one of the hooks on my corset got stuck and I had to lay on the couch while Miss Veronica knelt on me and tried to pry it open, Miss Vera asked if maybe I wanted to go out.

“Yes,” I said, because it felt right, and I knew if I didn’t I would regret it.  And so Miss Veronica, Miss Vera, and Miss Taylor walked out into a gorgeous summer evening in New York City, and we went to a little bakery and shared a piece of amazing chocolate cake, and chatted and then we walked back, and I took several selfies because I was so sad to wash off that face!

After the bra and breast forms, the panties and the dressing down, the make-up and the wigs, the high heel and voice training, after all that, what one word best captures the emotional essence of the experience I had at Miss Vera’s Finishing School for Boys Who Want to Be Girls?

Inspiring.

I think that word captures the experience best.   I went to Miss Vera’s with a certain sense that the experience might answer a lot of questions for me.  It did, but not in the way I expected.   My first visit to Miss Vera’s was not the end of a journey as I thought it might be, but the beginning because while Miss Vera and her amazing deans did clarify some things for me, they also just got me ready to put one heel in front of the other and strut on out the door to keep growing and learning and becoming.

brunettebest

Thanks to Miss Vera, Miss Bridie, Miss Veronica and Miss Judy!  You are all amazing!  Total love and thanks!

Miss Vera’s Finishing School For Boys

Miss Vera's Finishing School for Boys Who Want to Be Girls: Tips, Tales, & Teachings from the Dean of the World's First Cross-Dressing Academy by [Vera, Veronica]

Imagine a school where men go to learn all about doing their make-up from a professional cosmetologist.  Where they take classes on walking in heels, female voice and even ballet, where the teacher requires them to wear leotards and tights.

It sounds like something from Sandy Thomas Books, but Miss Vera is a very real person who runs a very real finishing school for boys right in NYC.

Why am I writing about it now, you ask?

Thank you for asking.

Because having just discovered this amazing school, I have enrolled and will be experiencing the Miracle Miss program in just a few days.  In addition to a full make-over– wig, make-up, clothes and heels, I will take classes in walking in heels and female voice.   Five hours of total immersion!

Miss Vera, if you have not heard of her, is a remarkable person who has written several books about what she does and who has been on the cutting edge of gender fluidity for many years.

Her academy includes Miss Vera, herself, as well as a variety of deans who all provide expertise in their areas or make-up, heels, wigs and other skills.

How good are these teachers, you ask?

Thank you for asking!

They are so good that as word spread about these classes, many women started inquiring on how they could sign up to learn to be more feminine!

I can’t say much more, of course, since I have  yet to have the experience, but I will be posting a full report on this amazing place at the end of the week.   In the meantime, if you are curious check out the website!

Miss Vera’s Finishing School For Boys Who Want To Be Girls

I’ll fill you in on all the secrets when I get back!