Going home.

The last thing I remember was walking into my cheap apartment after a rowdy night with the guys. This is pretty much the same as every other night when one goes to a university in which your parents are paving the way for you. I was to graduate from university in another month or two. My grades were all top scores, which is kinda hard to not get when your two apartment mates have been various tutors in the subjects you were taking. My only escape from the horrid life dictated by my parents before I was even out of the crib was partying.

My tutors had this nice little trick they would force feed me when I got back that would make me quite sober and hangover free the next morning. It tasted awful and I usually would throw up a number of times. This left me with a near anorexic figure. Like I said we partied a lot. Hence most days whatever I ate didn't stay down for long. I was fed various vitamins every morning so I was still healthy, well except maybe my liver, and I didn't have that pasty pale skin some of the anorexic people got. I also was forced to work out, again by my tutors, every weekend for 4 hours a day.

I was fairly fit, somewhat handsome or so the girls said, man of 23. My family name of Gates, no relation to Bill Gates as far as I know, opened doors for me and my buddies regularly. English was not my strongest subject but then again a Ceo doesn't need to know that stuff. That's what secretar..sorry personal assistants and computers were for now a days.

I might sound like a spoiled jerk but I really wasn't. More of the poor little rich boy from way overprotective parents. I had a nice car one of the newest mustangs fully loaded with all the trimmings and even modified with special racing stuff one it. It was fast and a joy to ride. Strangely it was still in the shop. One of my drunken drives had caused some damage to the front grill and hood. I didn't know what that was or if I was even driving at the time.

Last night had been a blast we had gone to this new club where the music was loud and hard, the girls were skimpy and the drinks were great. I had stumbled into my apartment drunk at 2 am or so. Can't be entirely sure since I had left my phone somewhere. My apartment was dark instead of the usual light from one of the tutors. I guess a light had burnt out or something cause the next thing I new I tripped over something and poof I was out.

I could really feel my head though at the moment so I guess the tutors were waiting for me to wake up to feed me that crap again. That or I got another minor concussion. I tried to pull up my hand to cover my eyes as the too bright light from overhead was sending painful throbs into my brain. Like I said I tried. For some reason I could not move my hand or arm. They were not tied down but half numb. After a small struggle I tried various other parts of my body. I just I started to hyperventilate or something as someone came into the room I was in.

"Awake I see. Very good I was almost afraid you would have some problem there for a bit. Thankfully you have pulled through quite nicely. Do not struggle you are temporarily paralyzed thanks to a nifty"Did he seriously say nifty? Who uses that anymore?" gadget I invented that provides a stun to the back of your neck freezing the nerve impulses. If you try to move to much however it will shift and may end up cutting off signals to your vital organs. We wouldn't want that." He giggled. Alright we have one serious wacho going on here. I tried to speak to tell him my parents would pay for my ransom but I couldn't even move my mouth it was too numb. From my biology course this shouldn't be possible.

"No no no my dear Antoinette do not try to speak your face is not quite healed up yet. We wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face of yours now would we." My name is Donald...wait did he just say Antoinette? Oh no...

"I see you have understood a bit of what has happened to you and no doubt wonder why." You bet your ass I do.

"You and your hoodlum friends deprived me and my wife of our daughter Antoinette. My wife was away during that time and does not yet know that you murdered her. The tell me it is impossible to identify who was driving the car at the time or that it was really your car that hit her as the street in question was dark." His voice had changed considerably to a more saner, if deeply grieving, voice. That scared me more than the one before.

"I knew that I had to make you all pay for your crimes. It is just not right that you get away scott free because your all filthy rich babies of your parents. I knew then I had to do something so I went looking at some of my friends and their less than stellar associates. I do not know how they got each of you but they did. Courtesy of one of my friends we came across and old jewel described in an old book. The book was written in Larbic, an old dead language that is half Latin and half Arabic that we know today. It took us a few days to figure out what was asked for ingredients not to mention a number of cross references to modern equivalents." He stopped to take a sip of something. They guy sure knows how to talk anyways.

"You may be surprised to know that one of the ingredients is what I believe you kids call LSD. I managed to procure a fair amount of this and I would not be surprised if the people I ah borrowed it from come to take me away. I will make sure that you are safe from them. It is my life they want after all. I knew from the moment I started the incantation that my own life was forfeit." and he sipped but I could also hear a slight wheeze to his voice.

"You see my daughter you will be remade into what you should have been all along. This time around you will be able to bear children like you always wished. That is my gift to you. That horrible husk that was once you is even now beginning to look like your murder. I believe that I will dump him into a ditch somewhere. Never again will you have to fear the poison of male hormones. I know I failed you once years ago when you tried to take your life. I swore then to never fail you again." someone took his wait. Antionette the name reminds me of someone. In my junior year of highschool there was this effeminate kid with the name Anthony I think. He was caught in the locker room by the coach or someone. He had tried to hang himself. Couldn't be the same person could it?

The guy left me and the lights went off. I still couldn't move my mouth or even open my eyes but I could see glows. From around me a dull light was going. I didn't know what it was but the darkness and the strange tiredness took me to dreamland. I slept fitfully with dreams of a life that was not my own. There was images of a homely girl in an outdated dress. Another of running in panties where I was terrified of some guys chasing me. It was disturbing and I was glad when I woke up. I knew I was awake because I couldn't move.

The room was light again but I couldn't move or see anything. I listened with my ears for any sound and I could just barely make out breathing. I guess I moved a facial muscle or something because the guy started again.

"Good morning princess! How is my little girl doing? Do you feel ready to sit up and have breakfast? I can release the nummer on you. I should warn you that we are far away from anyone at this cabin and you have been immobile for quite some time. Trying to run or scream would be foolish." I felt myself being moved a bit before I started to feel my body. Or at least what should have been my body. As senses returned I felt different. I could finally open my eyes and mouth. As I slowly and shakily moved into a sitting position on what I could now feel was a bed I noticed a few things.

The old man across from me looked really old. Far older than his voice suggested. His hands face and arms were covered with brown spots. There was warts or maybe a cancerous lump growing on his nose as well. I also noticed that the body I was now in was smaller than my previous 6'2" frame. My hands and feet were small. On my chest was the beginnings of boobs. Maybe an A cup if that. I had expected a femme fatale frame of a woman my age but this this was anything but. Heck I would have taken a somewhat masculine womanly frame. This was not possible.

I weakly turned my head and saw well myself. But it wasn't me really as the figure was in a cold chamber. I could tell it was cold because of the moisture on it. The old man was surprisingly strong for his age as he helped me to sit up and drink some hot chocolate. The chocolate felt really good bringing me memories of sitting in front of a Christmas tree. Which was strange as my parents didn't believe in celebrating Christmas with anything but gifts and the only trees I remember were from the family gatherings.

Things were strangely familiar some times after that. Other times horribly wrong. The old man who insisted I call him Papa would bring me these little gifts. Such as a pretty nightgown to wear or a small makeup kit that had nail polish or lip gloss in it. He would tell me of his daughters life. I had little choice but to listen to him.

His daughter was a very young transsexual girl. She had been born Anthony and had tried to kill herself getting rid of her testicles. It was a rather unusual way for one to commit suicide. Her father, who was a business man, had called a doctor while stemming the flow. It was after that he found out what she was. She had tried to hide it from both her parents as she thought they would hate her. He explained that it was his fault for not seeing the signs earlier and had buried himself in his work to support his family. His wife who he showed me a picture of and told me to call her momma was a blond haired woman of maybe 25. She was quite the looker and I felt a part of myself think she would have been someone I would have had sex with at least once.

My new age was 13. Papa brought me a cake with candles on the day he said was my birthday. He also brought me the gift of a really pretty dress that had short sleeves with white trimming. The dress was a red dress and made of velvet. I thanked him for it and asked him if he could help me try it on. I cried when he said I was still too weak for that. He even included pretty lingerie for me to wear with it. He would leave me from day to day. I remember waking up one morning and finding my room was missing the cold chamber with my old body in it.

When papa got back he told me he had removed it to a nice ditch so I wouldn't feel to bad. He said that the stain of when I had all but run over me with my car was now erased. He said that his family could grieve over the lost of their son. I knew he meant that my parents would be saddened over my death. Except I wasn't really dead. I vowed to one day let them know I was alive somehow.

Every week Papa would get weaker and weaker. His once strong body now required a cane to even walk around. He told me his time was almost up. I did not understand what he meant by that. I tried to get stronger each day with exercises in my bed but it was taking me far longer than it should I think. I did feel better but something was holding me back or so it felt. Papa had hung my new dress in a closet and brought me at least a short denim skirt and white tights to wear. With my long brown hair in a high pony tail and my breasts into a tight but comfy bra I was mostly happy.

The last week I saw him he tried to teach me where everything was in the cabin. The kitchen with its small stove and the fridge. Where the main freezer was though I didn't see it myself. I was barely walking around at that point and would frequently take naps in papa's loving arms. Still it was far better than staying in my nightie all day long.

I was surprised a morning a few days later when I woke up with a tummy ache. My panties when I went to the little girls room had a small red spot on them. I told papa about this and he looked at me with tears in his eyes. He told me he was proud of me and that I would have a full life ahead of me and to never cry for him. I felt sad immediately and balled as it felt like he was leaving me. I didn't want him to go but he said he had to. He said it was part of the price he paid.

He left me that day and it was the last time I ever saw him. I was sitting in my room in the cabin playing with my nail polish when the police came. They made a horrible mess and they took me out but not before I ran back to my room for my special dress and makeup case. That afternoon I was in the police station trying to answer questions when momma came in. She was awful her hair was a mess and she did not have any makeup on. Her clothes looked slept in but she swallowed me in a hug. I flinched because her hug made my tummy hurt more.

Momma grew concerned when I told her that and she and the police took me to the hospital. A nice lady doctor examined me and explained all about feminine hygiene products and how I was to use them. When momma got upset at the doctor and told her I was a boy and couldn't have that the lady doctor had my momma put on some medication. I do not know what else happened but I stayed in that hospital for a few days and momma never once got changed into new clothes. I was told she had a nervous problem and needed help.

Momma and I eventually got released and we went home. Momma kept giving me odd looks now and again but I was happy to be going home. My room was the way I remembered it but I found the strange collection of boys clothing in the side of closet and wondered if I had a brother at one time. I played with my makeup and got better at it. I was happy and momma would give me affection and attention so I was loved and warm.

At the bottom of my case I found an envelope for momma from papa. I do not know what was in the note but after momma read it she stopped giving me odd looks and we got along even better. I saw her cry over a picture of a young man that could have been papa when he was younger.

The day I finally wore my pretty red dress was the day momma and I went to a grave. The grave was where momma said papa was buried. I found it strange but believed momma as there was no reason for her to lie to me. I did return to school but found the subjects boring and frequently got into trouble. It was thanks to a bright teacher that I was retested and found to have a university level knowledge so I skipped a few grades.

As I grew as a woman things became easier to deal with and I never did get back the strength I knew I once had. I complained to my gynecologist about it once and awhile but she said I was as strong as any woman my age should be. I still give momma grief from time to time as she insists my last name is Strong but I know it isn't. I have signed my name that way a few times to make her happy but when I can afford it I will get it corrected.

My plan is to finish my education, where I am doing quite well, and become a business woman maybe even a corporate CEO or something. It is what I am for anyways. I have myself a used car I bought from funds I have earned tutoring other students. It is an older mustang that is fully loaded. I am told it was once in an accident but is still quite safe to drive. Strangely I found myself drawn to that car and still do not know why. Nor did I have any idea why I knew there was an unopened package of expensive cigarettes in a side panel of the car but there was. Still its a very nice ride and a little exciting to drive.

I'm on my way home for the Christmas holidays. I have the turkey and ham momma and I will bake up in the trunk and a few new dresses in the back in a garment bag. It will be a happy Christmas and I know I will be loved and warm.

Antoinette Gates.

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