Crossdressing Success Stories From our Customers

Journey Towards Perfection

Dear Danielle,

As I continue to journey towards feminine perfection, I felt that I must update you on my progress to this point. With your support and professional guidance, I have just been amazed with the results that the female hormones for men have delivered to this point.

It has been about 9 months now since I first started my journey, and with your ability to listen and understand what it is that I am trying to accomplish, you were able to put me on a regime that has helped to yield phenomenal results.

Having been on the Estro Boost, Booster Plus and now the Breast Booster, the very masculine body that I once knew, has now become increasingly feminine and is more in line with what I would like my end result to be. I have seen the muscle mass in my shoulder area, all but disappear and the neck area has been greatly reduced in size and shape. My facial features have been totally redefined and I have experienced a major reduction in the amount of facial hair growth. I have gone from shaving twice daily to shaving once every 3 days. Even at the 3-day mark, the hair growth is very minimal and I don’t worry about having beard shadow anymore. The facial skin has smoothed out and the pores are non-existent, allowing me a perfect canvas to apply my makeup to. In addition to the smoothness, my cheeks are becoming more defined and the neck area doesn’t show my Adams apple anymore, but does show some nice collarbone features. The progress is truly amazing.

The rest of my body redesign is in full swing as well. I have gone from the linebacker look to a feminine look that is very pleasing. The hormones have redefined my waist area, allowed me to have feminine shaped hips and have taken control of the weight redistribution process. I have gone from a size 22 dress to a size 18 and my waist has gone from a size 42 to a size 38 as well. I now can see my shoulder blades and they are truly feminine in nature.

Since being on the hormones and recently adding the Breast Booster to the regime, I can now proudly state that I am a true “B” cup and just shy of a “C” cup, when it comes to my breast development. The bra that I have in the “B” cup is starting to get tighter and a true “C” cup is in the near future.

I have attached a few pictures for you to view and I hope that you are as happy with my progress as I am. With your help and guidance, I am becoming the women that I have always wanted to be and when I am out and about, there is never any question in my mind that society doesn’t view me as anything but totally female. The feeling is amazing and one that completes me.

The final part of the journey is to ease onto the Fem Shaper and give true definition to the breast area as you have mentioned. I know and trust that when the time is right in my journey, you will be there with your guidance and support to take me to the next level.

As people take their journey, they need to learn that patience is a must and they must not rush the process. If they listen to what you tell them and adhere to the regime that you suggest, they too will be able to realize their dreams and what a wonderful day that will be in their journey.

Thanks again, Danielle for being there along the way…. You’re the best!


My Story

My fascination with short skirts, stockings, garter belts and high heels came with puberty though I did not begin to dress up myself until later. When I was 19 I went to visit a kinky friend I had known since high school and stayed with her and her equally kinky roommates for a week. Toward the end of the week they decided to throw a fetish party, naturally fetish wear would be required. I had none.

"We'll just put you in a dress," she said.

I looked to her roommate for help, whom I had become friends with.

"How about a maid outfit," the roommate offered.

Weak protestations did nothing to deter them. I could have been more forceful, but secretly I wanted to try it. The movie Clue corrupted me at an early age and so my love of the French maid outfit started then. I drove to an adult store with one of her roommates and we picked out a black and white PVC maid outfit. Well, she picked it out, I was still saying no in a less than convincing manner. By the time we got to a Payless Shoes later in the day I had pretty much resigned myself. So I bought a pair of 3 inch heels in the largest size they had, though they were still too small.

On that fateful night I was shaved, dressed in the outfit with a borrowed bra stuffed with socks, put on those ill-fitting shoes and had makeup applied. I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time and just knew it was for me.

Now a little more than a decade later I am incredibly thankful I was pushed into it. I might never have discovered this side of myself any other way.

Comfort Zone

I just wanted to share the story of my first day that I ever was dressed outside of the comfort (and safety) of my bedroom.

I had joined a group on (I swear you can find a group for anything on there) for New York Transgenders and had talked to a couple of them online. I never even been outside of my room fully dressed, but something about the way they chatted online made me feel at ease. They meet up every Thursday, so one Thursday evening I put on my black stockings and gaff under my jeans and went down to the bar where they met up. I had gotten there early, and there weren't a lot of people there yet. So I went into the bathroom and got changed. Locking bathrooms are so incredibly nice, but I know I nearly chickened out three or four times as I was getting dressed. I could have left at any time, but for some reason, I decided to go through with it. Putting on my make up and looking at myself in the mirror, I finally felt right, looked right, like I wasn't looking into the eyes of a stranger.

As I walked out of the bathroom with my bag in tow, I walked over to the group of crossdressers and transgenders and shyly introduced myself to one of them. Immediately after I told them "Hi, I'm Angela", they turned around and introduced me to the entire group and just made me feel right at home. I've never felt so accepted in my life, and I've never felt so right and at ease. Honestly, I was so amazed at how easily I responded to Angela, how natural it all felt to be called Angela. It's one of my most powerful and favorite memories ever. I have never felt so at ease with myself and talking as myself.

I know that I spent a long time afraid to even think about going out, and that fear really did paralyze me for a long time. It nearly got the best of me that night from the moment I stepped into the bar until I was fully dressed and walking out. But I hope that if some people that are afraid to go out read this, that they might find that there is some possibility of finding a place where you can be accepted, and it might just feel more right than you ever thought possible.

I hope this reaches people who are too scared to take that first step forward, because maybe, just maybe, they might find some comfort in seeing what might be waiting for them over the threshold.


In the summer of 1984 my parents left to go on a book tour.  As anthropologists, they had published a book that they wanted college professors to start using it as their official class text. Rather than drag me and my brother cross country, they farmed us out to our grandparents and aunt.

While my brother got to stay with our grandparents and therefore got full time access to their pool all summer, I was much luckier getting to stay with my aunt.

Aunt Christy worked at a bank and was gone all day.  But to make up for leaving me all by myself during the the day, she tried to do fun stuff in the evenings like playing games, renting movies for us to watch.  One night after dinner early on in my visit, she announced that she had picked up a movie at the video store for us to watch.

"I'll pop some popcorn while you put on your pajamas and we can make it a movie night."

"Ah, Aunt Christy, I'm a little to old to wear pajamas to bed.  I just usually sleep in my underwear," I said somewhat embarrassed.

"Well," she replied, "we can't have you walking around here in just your tighty-whiteys."

Then she sent my up to her room to get one of her t-shirts from her dresser.  I protested a little, but she assured me that it was no big deal and that no one was going to know.  In the end, I did as she told and found a zebra stripped t-shirt (it was the 80's!) to wear.

When I came back down she smiled and told me that we'd go find me some "manjamas" at the store later in the week.  For now I could just keep wearing her t-shirts to bed.  But things got busy for my aunt and I hung out with my friends a lot at first, so we never made it out to the store to do our clothes shopping.

One evening when I went to Aunt Christy's dresser and there were no more clean t-shirts for me to wear.  When I came back down still fully dressed, she was sitting at the table with a Monopoly game all set up.  She asked why I wasn't changed and I told her.

"Oh, well just grab something from the next drawer up."

I went back to her room and discovered that the next drawer up was one of her lingerie drawers.

"Here, use this one."

I didn't know that she had followed me up to her room and I  jumped a little when she spoke as she reached past me and in to the pile of satin and lace.  She handed me something purple and I held it up for me with a smile.

"Just think of it as another oversized t-shirt but made from different material."

In her defense, it was not terribly different than just another t-shirt.  Only the lace at the collar and on the sleeves, and the cool silky material gave it away as anything different.

"Here, I'll wear one too."  She grabbed a similar nightie in bright blue then turned her back to me and pulled off her shirt and bra.  She slipped the nightie over her head and turned around.  "Go ahead," she urged as she reached up under her nightie and slipped out of her jeans.  I copied her and changed in the same manner.

We played our board game and I spent the night in her nightie.  The whole time I was distracted by just how different but amazing it felt on my skin.  The next night, I didn't need any encouragement to go back to her dresser and pick out another nightie to wear.  In fact I kept wearing them even after she had done laundry and there were the more mundane t-shirts available in her dresser.

That first night wearing a nightie might have been my initial step in to crossdressing, but it was what happened next that firmly put me on the path for good.

I went to Aunt Christy's room to discover that all of her regular nighties we all gone (in the laundry I assumed).  But rather than revert to her cotton t-shirts I fished around in her lingerie drawer until I found what I now know was a poet's shirt.  It was white and totally sheer except for satin trim at the edges and pockets.  I put it on and came downstairs only to meet with a raised eyebrow from my aunt.

I think she was trying to scare me out of my choice when she said, "If you're going to wear that one, then you have to wear the underwear that goes with it."  She disappeared upstairs and came back a few moments later with a pair of white satin panties in her hand.  "Here!  Put these on."  She turned her back and I slipped out of my boy briefs and in to her panties.  When she turned around she asked sternly, "So do you like those?"  But then her voice softened a little.  "Hmmm, it looks like you do," noticing my erect excitement with a smile.

I spent the night that way, and in the morning after everyone and everything had calmed down she gave me the birds and bees talk.  Then she pointed to a laundry basket she has set in the corner of my room.

"In there are some other clothes that you can use to experiment with.  There's a blouse, a skirt, a dress and some shoes you can try one as well as a bunch of different lingerie.  Let me know if you have any questions on how to put any of it on."  Then she patted me on the knee and left me alone for the whole day.

The summer progressed from there, and that was not the end of my crossdressing with Aunt Christy.  That was the summer that Todd became Tonya.

Her Effort

It’s really hard for a cross dresser to come out to a partner. Be he married or dating or even to relatives, it is incredibly hard due to the emotional strain. But a lot of the time, we don’t really take into the account the emotional strain felt by the ones we love. For them, it’s like taking in a giant secret and feeling as if everything they knew about you was a lie. There is also the fear of something more… is this just a fetish, a lifestyle, or is it more. This is what my wife went through.

When my wife and I first hooked up, she knew that I enjoyed women’s clothing, lingerie in particular, and even humored me by allowing me to dress with her during sex. It was a lot of fun as early 20 something’s, though she thought it was just a fetish, and so it seemed at the time. As we progressed further into our relationship, for me, it became less of a fetish and more of a desire to dress and emulate a woman. For her, it became slightly annoying, but again, she humored me sometimes.
We got married and had a daughter. All things changed after that. With the effects of birth bearing on her body, and lingerie on mine, it became clear that she was having a difficult time with my dressing as it happened less and less and less, especially with me working so much. But one night she found a site I was involved in. It was a site for transgendered/cross-dressing individuals to socialize, but she had assumed it was a dating site. There was a big fight that night and everything that had been kept inside; her anger, her disgust, my secret desire, everything. I think I slept on the couch for almost a month as divorce was contemplated.
Eventually she came to terms with me wanting to dress, she didn’t want to see me as such, but now she was aware that it happened and trust had to be regained. We had another fight about it a few years after that… but that is another story.
The thing is, I never took into account her feelings for anything. Yes, it was important to me to be true to myself, but I never thought about keeping true to the one I loved. It was always a semi-secret that we never spoke about and she wished would have gone away. If we had talked about everything in the open a lot earlier, as it was happening, those fights and cold nights on the couch may have been changed to warm ones in bed. I know not every story can be completely happy, but this is the reality of keeping a secret and her effort was to make things work, after she could have left.

Breast on the Loose - A true Testimonial

One of the best things about being a crossdresser? You can have whatever size breasts you want. One of the worst? That they could fall off at any moment. That’s right, ladies, I’ve lost a breast form in public, and have lived to tell about it. No, it isn’t pretty. And no, I will never leave the house without a pocket-bra from (shown left) again! And after you read this, hopefully you never will either. It was last year, and I had finally reached a point in my life where I was confident enough to go shopping in the female department while dressed up (which, incidentally, was about the same time I started frightening off entire store-fulls of petrified women, but anyway …)

I had just finished cleaning out the sale bins at J.C. Penny, and I was on such a money-saving high, that I decided to brave the clearance racks at Old Navy -- a place so unorganized, that one time I think I actually found someone’s child under a pile of performance fleeces there. And, yes, it was just as chaotic as I had remembered. But it was also just as cheap. So I rolled up my sleeves, adjusted my crossdressing wig, and started digging. And before I knew it, I had flung so many of last season’s fashions over my shoulder, that the whole left side of my body was quickly starting to sink.

So off to the dressing rooms I went, where I threw off my clothes and squeezed into a dizzying array of low-rise jeans, pencil skirts and pea coats. Sure, I had to toss aside a lot of ill-fitting garments, but soon I found a sweater dress that fit my hip-less frame perfectly – and at 75%-off the last marked-down price, no less.

I grabbed the dress, flung open the dressing room door, and made a beeline for the cash register, when, suddenly, I noticed that something felt … off. Or rather, something felt like it came off. I immediately slapped my right hand against my left chest as though I was about to give one seriously fierce Pledge of Allegiance, and realized… my breast form… it’s gone. OMG my silicone breast form was missing!

A rush of estrogen-patch-filled blood filled my head. Ah! Somewhere between slipping on that jersey-knit tank and peeling off those denim leggings, it must have fallen out of my bra and into that tangled mountain of clothes I left on the floor.

I walked as fast as I could … or as fast as my 3-inch heals would let me. And there, just a few feet in front of me, was an image I will forever carry in the darkest part of my brain. It was the underpaid teenager who had let me in the dressing room, with a fist-full of pajama bottoms in one hand and, yes, my breast form in the other. No. I … No. Just … no.

I had a decision. I could have turned around, walked right out of that store, and never have come back again. But who am I kidding: These were $300 ultra projected breast forms from! And I was about one sweater dress away from maxing out my credit card.

So I went right up to her, pointed my boney, half-polished finger at it, and chuckled, “That’s mine.” She blurted out, “Oh!,” and then gently placed it on the table in front of her, face down, nipple up.

I snatched it, mumbled “Thank you,” shoved it in my pocket, and left the store as quickly as possible. Sweater dress, be damned. I was too mortified to stay there any longer, and besides, I don’t look that good in forest green anyway.

No, I haven’t been back there since. Sure, I should probably learn to get over it, but after seeing my double-D breast form giggle under the harsh lighting of Old Navy’s over-lit dressing rooms, I think I’m scarred for life.

I have, however, learned a very valuable lesson that all of us should hold near and dear to our hearts: Wear a pocketbra from En Femme. Because if you just shove your breast forms in a regular women’s bra like I used to before i started shaopping with En Femme you not only could lose a breast – you could also lose your mind.