But I'm Also Ashley (Ch3) (Patreon)

Surprise! Here is a look at the latest chapter of my Erotic Auto Biography! Hope you guys enjoy the next installment, with even more to come down the road, eventually the timeline will catch up hehe ❤️

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Chapter Three:

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Saturday was the beginning of my “downfall”. My initial instinct was to try and get out of the house - maybe reach out to some old friends and see if I could do anything with them to pass the time. But no response, and why should they? My last relationship had pulled me away from them.

Instead, I spent the entire day fairly distracted, using video games I had no real interest in, and watching several episodes of a television series to bide my time… But as the evening crept closer, I couldn’t stop myself reaching for a couple of the beers in my fridge to help calm my nerves.

My brain rationalized a couple beers would keep me distracted, and actually give me the ability to relax and enjoy the media content I kept trying to force on myself that day…

It worked for about 30 minutes, but then I felt the second beer fully hit and my horniness level skyrocketed out of nowhere… It apparently was like filling a meter. And the only thing my horny brain could think about at the moment, were all the things I was checking out online the night before… When people tell you alcohol lowers your inhibitions, I felt that in full force that night.

Almost like an out of body experience, I stood up, TV still on, and basically felt my body walk on it’s own towards the bedroom. It was almost as if I was on auto pilot, with the former pilot now buzzed and lazy, and buckled in. I felt like he was leaning back in my head with is feet up, just observing the crash. And partially why he was letting it happen was out of pure curiosity as to where my body was now going, and what exactly it was planning to do.

My hands shook as I felt myself dig through my ex’s clothes and start pulling out more articles of feminine clothing. I found the same cute pair of striped panties as the other night… but that felt like old news to leave it at just those, I had worn these before now… so my hands began to dig deeper, until I found the matching bra. My body felt electric as I tugged it out of the pile. It felt like giddy excitement - mostly fueled by the taboo nature of what I seemed to be doing: Men didn’t do this. Especially men like me. What was I doing?

I lay out the bra and panty set out on the bed and I felt myself strip and shed the masculine clothing to the floor haphazardly. I looked around to check for prying eyes - as if I wasn’t already fully private in my own apartment.

I picked up the panties and stepped into them, feeling a hum of white noise in my brain as they slid up and over my legs and the silk formed to my ass and hips… I exhaled finally… They still fit… they still looked way to good on me…

I took a step towards the bra, feeling my whole body react to the new feeling of the material now hugging my ass and hips… This must be how women feel all the time - something I definitely shouldn’t be feeling on my own body.

I picked up the bra and fiddled with it a bit until it was unwrapped from itself. It was so… feminine. No guy should be thinking about putting this on… But part of my beer brained mind was actually oddly excited about that. How would it look? Would it fit and look sexy on me the same way the panties did last night?

My growing curiosity had to know… I slid the straps up and over my shoulders and braced myself as the soft cups pressed against my chest. The most shocking part for me though, was how effortlessly I was able to hook it in the back. I had no struggle at all - and I felt like I should have. Putting on a bra was noted as being difficult even by most women who wore one every day. I should not have been able to do it in one fluid motion, but there it was. I rationalized it was because I was so used to taking them off of women…

I let it settle around my chest and stared down… My hormonal imbalance was only accentuated in this… My ex had fairly small tits, so this bra wasn’t even that far off from fitting me… It was a bit tight, but as far as cups went - they actually cradled my chest fairly well… and even pushed things up in a way I definitely wasn’t expecting…

I had to see what I looked like in the mirror. I slowly wandered over to it, feeling like I was sneaking around in my own room as a stranger. And I was moving quietly, mostly due to the foreign feeling the bra and panties were giving my physical input signals. This felt utterly different than anything I had ever worn in my life.

I intentionally tilted my mirror down before stepping in front of it… I did not want to see my likely terrified face and staring accusatory eyes in the mirror. I feel like the shock of seeing my own face wearing these things would hit me hard with a wave of shame - definitely something I didn’t need at the moment.

I took a breathe, stepped out, and then spun around to look…

I… looked… too good… I was definitely a guy in a bra and panties… but that guy fit those garments a little too well. I slowly spun… My ass still looked amazing in these, and honestly, seeing the back bra strap against my back not only made my frame more feminine appearing, it also made my ass look that much hotter…

I was wearing a sexy matching bra and panty set. And honestly I could compete with some women in this… I would know, I had seen a lot of women in their underwear in person.

I went to get another beer - sire if the buzz I was feeling was alcohol or some kind of odd pride in what I had just seeing the mirror. I prayed it wasn’t the latter. Walking there made me feel even more like a stranger in my own house. Made me feel like eyes were watching me from everywhere. Even the sound of the TV still on playing me nervous. I forced myself forward to get the beer anyway. I was already this deep in, freaking out now would make me feel even more foolish and depressed.

I sat on the couch, once again, out of pure curiosity. Wearing these clothes was starting to slowly make me feel like an entirely different person, or at least, like an entirely different person was controlling my body. Sitting on the couch, I couldn’t help continually looking down at myself as I sipped on my beer. Whatever was on TV, I can’t tell you. I was far too distracted between casual glances down.

All I kept thinking was that my legs sticking out of those panties, looked enticingly feminine. And the cups of the bra were also… kinda hot. How could they not be, looking down, a pair of tits were practically in my face.

I felt myself change my entire physical posture as I sat, and couldn’t help testing to see what I would look like with my legs crossed, one knee over the other. A purely feminine posture that seemed appropriate for this look - something a sexy secretary would do in a skirt in the office… my brain avoided thinking about what ind of skirt.

I looked hot. My legs being crossed also hid the slight bulge in my panties. And now I was actually feeling my breathing increase. God, I was so horny, and so lonely… This was a bad, bad, bad combo while getting more and more buzzed.

I sprung up from the couch again. I needed more verification. I needed someone, anyone, to either tell me I was insane, and I looked like a dude in ill fitting clothing - and should stop all this… Or I needed to hear if I actually looked as good as the masculine but feminine-craving side of my brain seemed to think I did.

There was only one place I knew I might be able to get that verification.

I sat down at my computer, definitely feeling the mesh of my chair press again my ass in those panties. I let my nervous pilot take over the controls for a bit as I browsed the “traps” subreddit again… It was anonymous. I could do it… Nobody would have to know. I could get my verification that I was being crazy, and break myself out of this insanity… At least I kept telling myself that was really what I wanted from this… but something deep down inside really wanted to see if I was hot… and she wanted her own form of verification.

I created an account on a whim, giving a name to that small little voice down there begging to take over, and found myself picking a name for her. I always found the name Ashley hot - my masculine side loved that name when attached to a sexy vixen. So if I was going to use a different name for a profile, then this brand new, little sexy vixen inside of me was obviously, also Ashley… AlsoAshley… I always was a fan of alliteration…

I was definitely drunk. The little back and forth and name picking was definitely me with no inhibitions - which is also why I picked up my camera and found the nearest wall to pose next too with little to no hesitation.

I set my camera timer and took my first pic of myself… At that time - I had no idea that this first pic of Ashley would be the first of literally hundreds of thousands to come… It was just the beginning for the vixen now standing there in a bra and panties, about to see if a bunch of men liked what they saw…

I downloaded the pictures to my computer, trying my best not to think about the fact that my horny male mind actually liked what he was seeing in those pictures… And my hands shook gently the entire time as I found a front and back pic I thought showed me off pretty well, posted up those pics to Imgur, and then posted those links to the Traps subreddit… And all it said was “What do you think?” I nearly puked as my hand hit submit….

I waited about 2 minutes - of which an eternity seemed to pass — before immediately going back to my account page and deleting the post before even checking if anyone had seen it…

If there was ever a speed run for deleting incriminating internet pics, I mist have won… I know that the part of me who deleted those pics was that pilot, trying desperately to regain control, and save me from myself… And honestly, part of me thanked him as soon as they were gone…

But… as I sat there… with my heart racing. My forehead sweating… almost making the biggest mistake of my life… I had to ask, why was my heart racing so much? Why was this such a… thrill to me at the same time as it was debilitating?

I sat in the chair, unflinching for quite some time… It wasn’t until I finally took a deep breath as a last measure to calm myself enough to be done with this - that I was reminded of the straps of the bra on my shoulders, and the cups of “my bra” on my chest. I jolted, and it made me feel my panty covered ass brush against my chair.

All of those overwhelming sensations combined at once only reaffirmed that horny, curious feeling again - I had to know.

This time as I pasted those links back into the subreddit — I stood up and backed away from the computer… Forcing myself away from the delete option.

I minced back out to the common area of my apartment. And paced in my living room, ignoring the TV once more and trying to focus on anything but the clothing I was wearing… I “calmed” myself with another beer and another seat on the couch, and then waited until the last round of commercials signaled the end of an episode of TV — before bolting back to the computer to check.

There was a little red envelope on my account… With a handful of numbers next to it. I opened the comments with wide, anticipating eyes.

I had barely made more than a few upvotes, and only a small handful of comments had been made - but It was all encouraging. Every comment so far was in support of me showing off there.

“Hot baby.”

“Love it, your ass is fantastic.”

“I think I’m in love.”

And a few more words of encouragement and emojis praising my body and looks were already attached to an image of me in lingerie…

My lonely heart somehow soared at this… These people were complimenting… me… It was a feeling I hadn’t had in a while… Why was I relishing in it so much? I even felt myself blushing… What in the hell was happening…

All of the comments seemed to agree with that voice growing in my head - I did look pretty hot in femme mode. How was this possible?

I left the computer and went to bed. It was almost like getting to the end of a long day at a theme park. All I wanted to do was pass out, and think of nothing. And that’s basically what I did. I shed my ex’s underwear from my body, and flopped down into bed. Knowing full well that when I sobered up in the morning, my fully conscious male side was going to be PISSED at what I had done tonight.

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I woke up incredibly late the next morning. And my processing power took a while to boot up. But once it did, I heard myself audibly groan out loud at myself to an empty room:

“What… the… fuck… man!” in exasperation.

With inhibitions returning, the night came rushing back, and I was devastated with how I had behaved.

I sat up slowly and continued groaning. Mostly from my actions, a little from my slight hangover. I slunk out of bed at a snails pace, partially hoping the trip to my computer would last an eternity so I wouldn’t have to witness while sober the sins I had committed the night before.

Unfortunately, that chair did eventually get to me, and my eyes did have to stare at the screen.

I shuttered at the dreaded inbox letter - but felt a slight falter in my brain pattern. The number was only at 3… I had gotten at least 8 comments in only an hour the night before. How had an entire night gone by and only given me 3 comments?

I knew I shouldn’t have cared - hell, that should have been good news to the new and improved sober me. But that little lonely part of me still knew what it felt last night when it came to praise, and it suddenly disappearing so quickly, somehow hurt a bit.

I checked my message inbox and saw two new comments: One praising my ass again, and another asking where I was from. I then tried to go to the comments on my post - but was surprised when the link didn’t go anywhere. Almost as if my post had gone down on its own. Was someone out there looking out for me? Had I hit a glitch jackpot that killed my post?

A weird sense of relief washed over me.. Maybe I had been kicked out entirely? Maybe I wasn’t allowed to post. Maybe I could leave all this behind and me losing my new reddit account wasn’t far behind. My male ego had been given a window of opportunity to escape. And that third comment was also a direct message - maybe one explaining it.

I popped it open and read it - and felt my stomach form a hard little pit. It was a message from the mods of “Traps” explaining to me that my post had been removed, because I wasn’t good looking enough to be considered a trap, and that they removed it because I didn’t even come close to looking like a woman.

This was one of the answers I was looking for. I should have sighed with relief… but I didn’t.

Instead, the weirdest wave of anger washed over me - spurred on by my somewhat competitive nature. Who were they to make that decision?? The community had commented on my post pretty much the exact opposite of what they said - my post blew up last night before they trashed it!

I was actually fuming. It was utterly confusing for me that I was reacting the way, which only made me even more angry. So angry I had to get up from those negative words and shake it off.

I decided to start my morning and see if the anger would subside, but as a quick protein bar, a full shower, a tooth brushing, and shaving occurred, there was nothing else to think about but what was in that message.

As I finished up shaving what little hair I grew on my dace, I thought to myself: “They hadn’t even seen my face, how would they know I don’t look like a woman???”

That thought finally cracked my anger shell a bit… and I actually laughed to myself… or at least to my own reflection… Maybe I really was losing it…

I physically shook my body, letting the tension out and then looked back at the mirror. They were right after all, I was a guy. I had no reason to belong there, or wear any women’s clothing for that matter….

But…

But……..

Who were they to make that decision for me? I was super into woman - and I felt myself agreeing with all those comments _ I did look pretty hot… Hell, I bet I could make a real bombshell if I actually gave a shit instead of jus drunkenly tried on clothes and took some crappy photos…

My eyes stared down at the razor I had just used to shave my face… An idea was starting to form, and I did not like where it was going…

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End of Part Three! How does an autobiography even have a cliffhanger every chapter ending?? Because it’s more fun that way! Hopefully you enjoyed it!