Part 9: Escaping Online
By K.T. Leone
I lay in the void. I am surrounded by darkness as my mind wraps itself around an event from my past that I thought was long forgotten. There is a distinct lack of emotion, but I don't know whether or not I should care. When the event originally happened, the teasing and name calling and the bra being thrown at me, I was racked with emotion. I was embarrassed. I was angry. I was ashamed that I was a boy with breast. Now, I feel nothing. I do not feel any anger, no feeling that I must have my revenge. I do not feel ashamed that I didn't conform to how others thought I should look as a boy. I felt no embarrassment that I had put on a girls' bra and looked at myself in the mirror and gave into the thought “What if I were a girl.” I just saw it as an event, an event that I was far removed from. Almost like I was reading a story about someone else and I can disengage myself from it. All the negative emotions were gone, I can feel them expelling from my pores as the liquid I was submerged in was doing whatever it was trying to accomplish.
I felt an odd peace. My mind was unusually quiet. There were no voices telling me things were right or wrong. I saw my younger self wearing a bra. I was my younger self wearing a bra. I could see my reflection in the mirror at the very moment. The event was not as it had been in the past. There was no arousal. There was the thought that I did look attractive and might even look pretty if I had longer hair, perhaps even beautiful if I decided to smile. But in the initial event I was aroused and that brought up the confusion. What was I aroused about? Was I aroused because the image that I was looking at appeared to be of a girl in her underwear? Or was I aroused because I was that girl in the underwear? But without the arousal, there was no confusion. Without the confusion, there was no guilt. I could see the event for what it was; I was a child looking at the reflection in the mirror and wondering what it. The future had such possibilities and for the first time I realized that who I was might not be so etched in stone after all.
The image faded from before me. All is quiet, even internally. There was no need to over analyze the past. It was what it was, nothing more and nothing less. There was an event, it had an affect on me, and it molded future decisions without me even being aware of it. Looking back in hindsight, I could see that now. I am no longer that child who was confused about wearing a bra and being aroused by the reflection, but that child is a part of me and I cannot deny its existence.
Blackness. Silence. The world is still, if it even exist. I am alone, floating in a man-made womb as the amniotic fluid forms and shapes me both physically and mentally. I am aware of its existence, but not entirely certain what it is doing.
Time goes by. I don't know how much; could be minutes, could be hours. Doesn't really matter. The fluid is doing its work and, when the time is right, I will be reborn.
I can't tell if I blinked my eyes or not. I have a feeling that I did. I have a feeling that I closed them and when I opened them I was back in the bedroom I had when I was younger. Only this time the bedroom is different. It is not the bedroom I had as a middle schooler and, if I were to hazard a guess, it was when I was a Junior in high school.
I don't need to look out the window to know that I am correct. I hear the low rumble of a 350 cubic inch engine that sat under the hood of a rusty 1976 Pontiac Firebird. It is a sound that always brings me joy, one that I haven't heard in quite some time. It was the perfect first car; fast, cool looking, and breaking down just often enough that I could appreciate when it ran. It had a heavy door, because I could hear when it was slammed closed.
A minute later I see my teenage self walking into the bedroom. Seventeen years old, but certainly not filled out in anyway that made the girls drool. The gynecomastia took care of itself and though I was skinny and slight of build, there were no lumps where they didn't belong on a boy. Other than a little bit of height, a little less weight, and a slightly longer hairstyle, nothing much had changed from the last time I was in this room. My younger self still wore jeans and a t-shirt and heavy sneakers that were immediately discarded after the schoolbooks were placed on the desk by the computer.
Feeling nostalgic, I walked to the window and looked at the rust bucket that I use to love so much. I remember I sold it when I went off to college so I could get a van and have the opportunity to move things between home and school. The Firebird was the only car in the driveway, which wasn't too far from the norm back then. My dad wouldn't have been home from work and my mom often spent afternoons volunteering at a local hospital.
“All to myself,” the teenaged me said as he pulled off his shirt and threw it on the bed.
He walked over to the computer and turned it on. I forgot that at one point in my life I actually turned a computer off. Now I have it set up to just enter sleep mode and be available at my beck and call.
“Time for a little fun,” Teenaged Greg said as he made his way to his bedroom door and locked it. It strikes me as funny that I would do such a thing in an empty house. As the computer continues to boot up he removes his jeans and lays them on the bed.
I forgot how long it use to take the computer to boot up, but eventually I see the desktop and its plain black background. The icons seem to come up one by one and my Teenage self looks at the screen expectantly.
I can see the AOL log in screen pop up. Gregster96, not the most original handle one could come up with, but what do you expect from a seventeen year old. I actually hear the tones of the modem going. Hadn't heard that in forever.
“Welcome,” the computer says loudly. The anticipated “you got mail,” never comes.
The teenage Greg frowns at the lack of content, but that's to be expected, everyone he knew that would've sent him an email was at school.
My former self didn't waste anytime to navigate to the chat rooms. Trying to find one of the member rooms that struck his fancy. 'Good times m4f' looked promising and he decided to go in there.
I stood over my teenage self's shoulder so I could see what was going on. I suppose every habit had its beginning and this must have been it for me.
“Hi,” teenage Greg typed.
There were a few people who said hi back and a bunch of ASL being asked both in channel and in private message windows.
Honestly, Greg answered 17 M USA to all of them.
Usually after that there was no reply back or a 'not interested.'
“Anyone want to cyber?” Greg asked in channel.
That got another slew of ASLs being asked of him.
Again he answered honestly 17 M USA to them all.
Like the first time nothing came about it.
“This is nuts,” Teenage Greg said out loud in frustration.
He was about to turn the computer off, but then a look of inspiration came over his face.
He quickly navigated to the screen where he could make up a new user handle.
There was a pause as he thought of what he should call himself. He looked around the room for some inspiration and finally it struck him.
“AOL, meet TennisGirl16,” he said as he typed in the information.
After creating the fictitious account, teenage Greg logged back in under the new name. He was adept at using AOL where it only took him a few moments to create a profile.
It wasn't that long before the teenage Greg was in another room specifically designed for the same goal as the last.
“Hi room,” Greg typed as he tried to emulate how a girl might use the program.
Again, a bunch of people responded with a hello and a few even added his screen name after that. Then came the ASL questions.
16 F USA Greg responded to each.
To his pleasant, but not so unexpected surprise, people continued to talk to him. In under two minutes he had enough private message windows open to feel comfortable that he could be kept busy for a while that he left the main chat room.
Even after he left the main chat room people were still Instant Messaging him.
The teenaged Greg smiled, he had the pick of the litter.
The older Greg just stood and watched as Instant Message after Instant Message came in. This was when it all began, the first time when he realized that for certain things it was actually advantageous to go online as a female persona. As the teenager picked and chose who to talk to, Greg stood behind him to read the exchanges.
TennisGirl16: Hello Fluffy
“Jeez,” the teenage Greg moaned out loud. “Why do they all ask that?”
TennisGirl16: 16 F USA
FluffyDude80: Cool. Do you like older men?
TennisGirl16: I guess if they are cool.
FluffyDude80: What do you look like?
“Got him,” the teenage Greg said triumphantly. “Now what to look like, I can't make myself too hot or he will know that I'm not for real.
TennisGirl16: I am 5 foot 6, 120lbs long brown hair, blue eyes. In real good shape.
FluffyDude80: Sweet. What size underwear do you wear.
FluffyDude80: Right. Where does it list the size of your panties?
TennisGirl16: On a tag in back.
FluffyDude80: Sure, dude. BYE!!!!!!
The teenage Greg pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. He realized that he was tripped up by the easiest of questions. It wasn't that big of a deal though, he had dozens of other IM windows to chose from. He simply went on to his next conquest.
MaleTeacher42: hey baby
MaleTeacher42: how are you?
TennisGirl16: Okay, I guess.
MaleTeacher42: you guess? you don't know.
TennisGirl16: I'm bored.
The teenage Greg smiled. Finally he was going to get what he was looking for.
TennisGirl16: Not yet. But I hope to be.
MaleTeacher42: :) good girl. what are you wearing?
TennisGirl16: Just my panties.
MaleTeacher42: very good girl. Do you have big tits?
“Not anymore,” the teenaged Greg said out loud as he looked at his hairless chest. In the past the gynecomastia caused him such grief, but for the sake of what he was doing just then, he wished he had a little flesh left.
TennisGirl16: Not really. B cups.
MaleTeacher42: mmmmm.... less than a handful more than a mouthful.
MaleTeacher42: why don't you rubbed them for me.
The teenaged Greg did as he was told and made two fingers circle his nipples. It was evident that he was getting aroused.
MaleTeacher42: feel good?
Greg continued to rub his pert nipples with one hand as his other reached for the keyboard.
TennisGirl16: Yes. My nipples are so hard.
“And that's not all that's hard,” Greg said out loud and then smiled.
MaleTeacher42: good girl imagine that I am there
MaleTeacher42: you are sitting in a chair?
MaleTeacher42: Imagine that I get on my knees by the side of the chair.
MaleTeacher42: Now imagine that I reach up and rub your right breast with my hand.
MaleTeacher42: do you like?
“Hell yeah,” the teenaged Greg said out loud.
TennisGirl16: Yes, a lot.
MaleTeacher42: good girl. Now imagine that I begin to suck on your left tit, flicking my tongue over your hard nipple.
TennisGirl16: I bet that would feel so good.
The teenaged Greg rubbed his on chest harder and harder as he imagined the scene between and older man and a 16 year old girl.
MaleTeacher42: are you horny now?
TennisGirl16: Yes, a lot horny.
MaleTeacher42: do I make you wet?
The underwear that he had on couldn't contain the teenager's excitement.
MaleTeacher42: why don't you take off your panties?
TennisGirl16: Yes sir.
The teenage lifted up his hips and slid his underwear down his legs and threw them to the side.
The older Greg looked on with a sour look on his face. Watching the act was a little disturbing and he felt a bit like a pervert.
MaleTeacher42: they off?
TennisGirl16: Yes :)
MaleTeacher42: good girl now begin to rub yourself slowly.
The teenaged Greg took his modestly sized 4 inch penis into his left hand and began to move slowly up and down.
MaleTeacher42: are you doing it?
TennisGirl16: yes, it feels so good.
MaleTeacher42: good girl imagine that I kneel between your legs and begin to lick you.
The teenaged Greg continued to stroke himself slowly as he envisioned the scene in his mind.
TennisGirl16: feels so good
MaleTeacher42: spread your legs for me.
The teenager followed instructions, scooted so that he was low in the chair, practically laying in it and parted his legs as wide as the chair would allow. He had to reposition the keyboard so that it sat on his stomach.
TennisGirl16: ok I am spread for you
MaleTeacher42: good girl Imagine that I crawl between your legs and slowly slide my cock into your pussy.
The teenaged Greg frowned at how crass his online partner was talking, but was still incredibly aroused.
TennisGirl16: oh yes!!!!!!!!
MaleTeacher42: I begin to pump you harder and harder and harder
The teenaged Greg could get no further aroused and began to quicken the rhythm as he worked his hand up and down his shaft. All he could do was picture a teenage girl being penetrated by an older teacher and he liked how that felt. He moved his hand quicker and quicker until he reached his climax, ejaculating all over the keyboard, the floor and himself.
“Disgusting,” the adult Greg said as the scene played out in front of him.
“Really?” The doctor's tone was questioning as Greg heard it in his ear bud.
“Well, look at it. Certainly is messy and you look foolish afterward.”
The teenaged Greg began to clean up the mess with some paper towels while wearing a large frown on his face.
“Looks like you were enjoying yourself for a while?” the doctor continued.
“Sure, in the moment,” Greg admitted. “But look at me now.”
“You don't look very pleased.”
“That's because I feel guilty. It's the same story every time. I always feel guilty afterward.”
“Why is that?” The doctor pressed.
“Because I just had cybersex with another dude, that's why.”
“Do you feel guilty because you have homosexual tendencies?”
“No,” Greg said without meeting a beat. “I don't have homosexual tendencies.”
“Oh?” The doctor's voice was calm, though questioning. “The way you said 'another dude' made it sound like you were worried that you may be a homosexual.”
“If I were gay, I would simply imagine myself as a dude having sex with another dude,” Greg tried to explain. “But that is not what I was doing.”
“No, you were pretending to be a girl having sex with a guy.”
“Exactly,” Greg said as he looked on at the cleaning routine being performed by his former self.
“But, were you actually pretending?”
The scene paused in front of Greg. He didn't have an immediate answer for the doctor. “Well, I certainly didn't have breast or a vagina even though I said so online.”
“Yes,” the doctor said compassionately, “outwardly you don't appear to be a female. But...”
He let the words just hang in there for me to fill in in my own mind.
“Would it have been better for you if you were a girl on the outside also when you participated in these little online escapades?” The doctor changed the subject as my mind tried to process the new information.
“Maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty,” I admitted.
“The guilt really matters to you, doesn't it?”
“It certain detracts from everything.”
“What if we took away that guilt? Would it make things better? Do you think without the guilt you would still want to be a female after the episode was done or do you think that you would just be more comfortable in your own skin.”
I took a while to think about it. “That, I do not know.”
“At least your honest.”
The world got quiet as everything disappeared around me. I found myself back in the isolation chamber alone with my own thoughts. It felt as if there were a fierce lightning storm dancing across my scalp and I could feel each electrical strike charge through my synapses. I was unable to think or to move, even in the slightest. I couldn't tell if my body was bucking, but it felt like it should be. Something major was being reworked in my mind, but I couldn't tell what. With the last question that the doctor asked, it let too many possibilities exist, not that I could really concentrate on the matter. I just had to ride out the storm. I had come this far and new that I would be seeing the process to the end.
Author's Note: Yes, I tried to do a sexual scene once again. Would like some feedback knowing how well or how poorly I did. I know there was a lot of chatting and I hope people were able to follow along.
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