The Pajama Party Revelation
Before continuing with Changhee's story, I should say a little more about that "pajama party." The truth is, after he declared in that firm tone that he wanted to try on women's clothes—my clothes—I was the one who felt flustered. Why? I had secretly hoped he would say exactly that. Looking back, it was probably because the decision to release the desire he had been suppressing for so long came so suddenly because of me. I had been making excuses, insisting my intuition was wrong, yet he had believed me and made up his mind. That could not have been easy. I myself had never mustered that kind of courage. I had never been able to tell him honestly what kind of person I was, what my inclinations were, or that I had wanted to use him to pursue my own twisted pleasures. For him to trust someone he had only met five times and act on my words must have been incredibly difficult. Still, once he made the decision, he seemed determined to do it properly. He asked if he could shower and borrow something wearable. He looked worried he might pick something I treasured, but I was not the sort of person who would throw clothes away just because he had worn them for a few hours. Since I had been the one eager to play this game in the first place, I was more than willing to support my own pleasure down to the very last drop.
While he showered, I picked out two outfits I thought would look pretty on him: a mint-green dress and the purple two-piece suit he had seen before. I placed a dining chair in front of the bathroom and neatly hung the clothes on it. When the sound of running water stopped, I called into the bathroom.
"Are you going to do your makeup too? I can help if you want. Or do you know how?"
His voice came back. He said he knew how, but it was embarrassing, so could I just leave him alone to do it? I thought for a moment. This was getting more interesting by the second.
"All right. I'll step out for a bit. I need to pick up some drinks anyway. I'll be back in about an hour."
He thanked me, and the water started running again. I grabbed my handbag and went out. It was all so strange. Had I really intended to go this far? I wondered if any of this was right or even okay. At first I had only meant to uncover his true nature, but now it felt as though I was being pulled into it myself. I did not mind. I was simply excited to play a game I had never tried before. If anything, I felt there might be something more wrong with me than with him. But what did it matter? We were both broken in our own ways. In this sick world, who was truly normal? I justified my own abnormal ideas and stepped outside the building.
I could not contain my curiosity about how he would transform, so I returned after only fifty minutes. A startled voice came from the bedroom, telling me not to come in. I could respect that much out of courtesy. I set the beer and snacks I had bought on the table, sat down, and poured myself a drink. By the time I finished one cigarette, the bedroom door slid open and a slender woman in the mint-green dress stepped out. I nearly fell over in shock. She looked nothing like the man I had seen an hour earlier. Her makeup was not the clumsy attempt I had imagined. With the few cosmetics on my vanity, she had created a genuinely sexy face. That could only have come from either natural talent or extraordinary effort. She had slicked her wet, ear-length men's haircut back with gel—an unexpectedly stylish choice. Then she said something that nearly stopped my heart. The panties and stockings she was wearing were not mine; they were her own, the ones she had worn out that day. When I looked down at the flesh-colored stockings, I saw that all ten of her neatly shaped toenails were painted bright red. She was far deeper into the world of women than I had ever guessed.
I finished my beer, took her by the arm, and led her back into the bedroom. I asked what color her panties were. Deep pink, she said. I quickly pulled a matching bra from the drawer and handed it to her. When I smiled and asked if she needed anything else, she—perhaps emboldened by the alcohol—asked without hesitation for some stockings to stuff inside the bra. I burst out laughing, opened the drawer full of stockings, and told her to make the padding however she liked. I even encouraged her before returning to the kitchen to pour another beer, which I downed in one go.
She was something else. Far more entertaining than I had expected. Not just entertaining—pretty and sexy, too. I canceled any plan to simply pass the time. I was going to have her. I was going to make her mine. A smile spread across my face and refused to leave. She still possessed what she had been born with, even though she had been separated from it in childhood. Yet she also had a sexier figure than most women and knew how to apply beautiful makeup. Put the two together and… well, some people might call her a monster, but not me. She was going to be my lover. My lover who was both man and woman. The thought made her suddenly unbearably adorable. I wanted to pull her out of her panties and kiss her endlessly. She was so cute that I even felt willing to do things with my mouth that I had never done with any man before.
She could never become a woman—and she had no desire to—but on her days off she enjoyed dressing as one, sitting quietly, reading, watching television, or cooking. She was confident enough in her appearance to go out, yet she never had. Ever since she first perfected crossdressing and makeup three years ago, she had lived alone in a basement studio, too afraid her secret would be discovered. That had always been her regret. Then she learned about an offline crossdressing café and began spending nearly every weekend there, transforming and walking the streets at night. It cost a fair amount of money, but it felt safe. Even when we dated on weekends, she would rush to the café after we parted, become a woman again, and lose herself in the fantasy. After a few more weekends spent together as two women, I learned even more about her and felt an even stronger urge to make her mine. It was clearly an abnormal impulse, but given my personality—always getting what I wanted—it was only natural. So one day, while she was dressed as a beautiful woman, I asked if she would consider living with me.
By the time of that first pajama party, we had already slept together, and both of us had been satisfied. I also discovered then that she suffered from such severe psychological and mental fetishism that she could barely maintain an erection unless she was in women's clothing. Conversely, I had little desire to sleep with her when she presented as a man. We were, in that sense, perfectly matched. It was only natural that someone like me would suggest cohabitation. The only difference from other couples was that I was always the one to bring it up first. And so Changjun, following my wishes, became my woman, Changhee, whenever we were alone together.
With my support, Changhee's daily life began to change rapidly. She moved in with me on the condition that she would live completely as Changhee whenever we were home. It was clear she was not doing it just to please me. She was like a thirsty deer finally allowed to drink. She seemed determined to release every bit of femininity she had kept bottled up inside. She knew herself that this was different from occasionally visiting the crossdressing café on weekends. Of course it was. This was an entirely new way of living, not just a few hours of dressing up or coming home after work to change clothes, eat, and sleep. She could now live as a woman to the fullest extent she had always longed for.
Interestingly, she had no desire to become one hundred percent female. She did not want sex-reassignment surgery or hormone injections. She wanted full, feminine breasts, but when she considered her social life and her family, she lacked the courage for such a drastic step. Aside from that, however, she was enjoying life as a woman as much as she possibly could. She had skin smoother than mine, applied makeup more skillfully than I did, regularly removed hair from her armpits and groin as neatly as any woman, and painted her toenails a different color every week. She was a thorough and enthusiastic full-up CD. Watching her maintain that perfect feminine appearance and even try to speak in a more feminine tone in front of me was both fascinating and amusing. She was so adorable and lovable that I often found myself kissing her first.
Speaking of kisses, another benefit of living with her was the sex. As Changhee, her sexual skills were quite impressive. Not only was her oral technique attentive, but she also became reliably hard when she was Changhee. At first I did not believe it, so I tried sleeping with her while she was still Changjun. She really did not enjoy sex in that form. Even when I put in some effort, her erection did not last. After that, whenever we had sex it was always as two women—Changhee and Sohyeon—in what felt like lesbian play. And honestly, I preferred it that way. Since I was more attracted to women than to men, having her present as a woman made everything feel right.