I shut the car door and walked up the drive. The lady waited for me to arrive at the door and then drove off.
I had expected to see the house in darkness and I dreaded knocking anyone up, but the house was ablaze with light and I could hear music coming from inside.
My heart thumped and I felt a bit sick as, with a trembling finger, I rang the doorbell.
And now the story continues…
After a second, the music stopped.
I was shaking with fear and didn't know whether I should stay or just make a run for it.
‘This is a bad idea.’ I thought as panic threatened to overwhelm me.
I was just turning away to make a run for it when the door suddenly opened.
With my heart in my mouth, I looked back.
Trembling I just said, ‘Erm, hello Auntie Rachel.’
She looked a bit like Mum, but a bit younger, less worn out. I almost couldn't believe that she was Mum’s twin sister.
I had never seen her before. They, that is Mum and my auntie had had an almighty row when I was a baby. It was over Dad; it had always been about my Dad.
She looked at me with a puzzled expression on her face and then she looked closer.
‘My God, Michael?’
‘But you look like a girl.’
I burst into tears.
My Aunt had never seen me, but I did know that Mum and she were in regular contact with letters and the occasional photo of me before we lost our internet, and of course email access. I had not spoken to her but I knew that she was happily married to Brian and they had one child, Megan, funny name that, a bit Welsh, but then again, Brian came from Wales and I supposed that that was the reason for the name. Megan was about my age, maybe a bit older by a month or two.
Somehow, I found myself in a nicely furnished lounge with a lovely warming log fire. The whole place was decorated for Christmas, with a tree in the corner with twinkling lights and all sort of decorations everywhere.
But at the time, I barely noticed that as I was in the arms of my auntie, bawling my head off.
All the pent up pain and anger was coming out of me. I could not control it or say anything coherent.
I somehow sensed the man's voice.
‘What’s up Rachel pet and who is this?’
‘It's my nephew, erm niece?’
Looking up, through the tears, I could see a nice looking man, quite tall and well built. He had a kind, but puzzled face, nothing like my Dad...
It took a few more moments before I could compose myself. Auntie Rachel helped me take my coat off and my Uncle thrust a mug of hot chocolate in my hand.
They sat opposite me and watched as I sipped the drink and winced slightly as it was very hot. They didn't ask me anything for which I was grateful. I knew that I needed to explain myself and I was trying my hardest to pull myself together. To say that I was nervous would be an uderstatement.
After a bit, the heat from the drink somehow gave me courage and after a moment I looked up.
‘Auntie, Uncle, this is very hard. I didn't know what to do. I had to get away. I was scared stiff and didn’t know where to go. Then I remembered you lived near Brighton and I thought that you might help me.’
‘Why are you dressed like a girl?’ asked Auntie gently.
‘I am a girl, I always have been.’ I replied.
She looked at me with a slight frown and then suddenly smiled.
‘Your mother always said that there was something different about you, but could never pin it down. She did say that you were a very gentle loving child despite everything...’
She broke off.
I smiled slightly.
‘Was it that sod of a father that made you run away?’ asked Uncle Brian, his Welsh accent even more pronounced.
‘Stop it, Brian, we didn't know why she ran away yet, do we?’
My heart warmed slightly when she said ‘she’.
‘What do you like to call yourself, not Michael dressed like that, I bet?’
‘Samantha or Sammi for short,’ I replied.
‘Samantha, that's a nice name. Well Samantha, does your mum know where you are?’
I just had to stop leaking those tears it wasn't helping. I needed to get my act together and explain things. Would they believe me?
They were looking at me expectantly. I was trying to hold myself together. I took a sip of my drink.
‘You’ll probably need to ring the police in a minute,’
‘Why?’ asked Auntie.
‘Let her explain Pet,’ said my uncle quietly.
I sipped my drink again, noting that my hands were trembling slightly.
‘Dad came home from the pub drunk again. I was in bed with my door bolted. I didn't want to get beaten. He did that sometimes when he came home drunk. I was safe if he came in singing, but more and more he was violent and loud than happy.’
‘Oh, honey!’ exclaimed my Aunt.
‘Anyway,’ I said, looking at my mug as I spoke, ‘tonight he came home in a temper. I...I stayed in bed and I heard him go down the passage, through the lounge and into the kitchen. Then the shouting started and some banging and then, despite the fact that I had my fingers jammed into my ears, I heard Mum scream. I had never heard her scream like that before, even when he hit her and then the scream shut off, just like that. Dad was shouting something and then I heard a moaning noise and another thump.’
‘Without thinking, I got up went over to the door, unbolted it and then ran down the passage. I didn't worry about the fact that I was wearing a nightie and the fact that Dad would go mental if he saw me dressed in that. I was only concerned about Mum. I went into the kitchen and then, then... I saw them...’
I hesitantly explained to them what had happened. I broke down and cried a few times as I told them about Mum just lying there dead and Dad’s attack on me with the knife and what had happened afterwards.
‘Strangely enough, there wasn't much blood on his t-shirt after I stabbed him with the scissors. But at the time I was more horrified about what he had done to Mum and what I had done to him. I stood up, crying my eyes out. I couldn't stay in there, I had to get out. I went to the phone to ring the police, but the phone had been cut off due to non-payment a few days before and I just didn't know what to do.’
I looked up at them then and saw the horror on their faces.
I took another sip of hot chocolate and then ploughed on.
‘I...I had the blood of my parents on my nightie and from the knife cut that Dad caused and I felt very dirty, so I got undressed and had a shower, I still don’t feel clean.
‘I know that I should have asked for help from a neighbour, I should have somehow got to a phone and ask for the police. But then I was frightened of what the police might do and I didn't want to face them alone.I had seen in the past the way the police dealt with problems on the estate and it wasn't nice or very friendly. They tended to lock people up and ask questions later. My dad had had several run-ins with the police and I knew that I could have problems with them believing me about what had happened.’
They were saying nothing and I still looked at my now empty cup as I told them everything else that led me to their door in the middle of the night just a few weeks away from Christmas.
In the end, I had nothing else to say. I was drained out and so very tired.
My Auntie came over, stood me up and just hugged me.
“I will phone the police now,’ said Uncle Brian, ‘Don’t worry Samantha pet, we will sort this out.’
He left the room.
‘What will they do with me, Auntie?’
‘If we have anything to do with it, nothing,’ replied my Aunt who was almost in the same state as me. I had lost my mum but she had lost her twin.
We just hugged each other for a while and then my uncle came back in.
‘Right, the police will be here in a few minutes, and it's not going to be easy or nice for you, but we will be with you and I won't let them get away with anything.’
Just then, I remembered that he was a solicitor and that made me feel slightly better. Maybe this had been a good idea, after all.
The next few days were hard, very hard. I was taken to the hospital where I was examined by who I found out later, was the police surgeon and photos were taken of my injuries past and present. The nurse tutted at the scars on my back from the regular beltings that I had experienced and the doctor said a few choice swear words that made the nurse blush. Then I was taken to the police station where I was questioned at length about what had happened. I was so pleased that Uncle Brian was there with me to make sure that I wasn’t bullied or harassed by the police.
Over the next few hours, the police went over and over what happened and I think that they were trying to trick me into changing my story. However, Uncle Brian knew about all their tricks and he didn’t let them harass me too much and then called a stop to the questioning after saying either arrest me or let me go.
I didn’t like the arrest me bit, but luckily, my uncle knew what he was doing.
Reluctantly, I was released under caution, whatever that meant, to the care of my aunt and uncle while my case was referred to The Crown Prosecution Service as to whether any charges would be brought against me. I was told that that might take weeks. The police and Social Services did not object to being with my aunt and uncle as they were my only known relatives and, in any case, had been foster carers to local children for a number of years and well respected in the community.
It was the early hours of the morning that I returned to my aunt and uncles house. Auntie had stayed at home as Megan was in bed and could not be left alone. I vaguely remember myself being put to bed by Auntie and feeling very tired. I fell asleep almost the instant my head hit the pillow.
‘Wake up sleepyhead,’ said a voice from a long way off.
I struggled to wake up.
‘Come on Sammi, it's nearly breakfast time, well its past that actually, but as its the weekend Mum and Dad let me and you lie in, but we need to get something in...’
The sound of the girl's voice became insistent and I cracked an eye open.
‘Hello.’ said the girl, smiling.
‘Megan?’ I croaked.
‘That's me. Do you like my nightie?’
‘Your nightie, or rather my one. Mum pinched it out of my drawer last night. You don’t remember?’
‘Sort of, it was a bit... nasty last night.’
I felt tears smart my eyes.
‘None of that, we can’t have you crying now. You need to get up and have some breakfast. Mum’s bacon and eggs are worth getting up for. Mum says to wear the clothes you want but she did put some on the chair over there. Of course, they were all wrong so I changed them for things that were more with it and age appropriate. Well, she is ancient and does not have any dress sense.’
‘Do you know about me?’ I asked as I dragged myself reluctantly out of bed.
‘The fact that you had some horrid things happen to you at home, and that you are theoretically a boy, well physically anyway, but that's just quibbling, ‘cos you are really a girl and a pretty one at that, you cow!’
‘Yes, I wish I was half as pretty as you. Just dragged herself out of bed and still looks lovely. Mum says I always look like something the cat brought in in the mornings.’
I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I wasn't into conversations about our relative prettiness, especially after what I had been through in the last twenty-four hours. I liked the slight Welsh lilt to her voice though, much better than my ‘gor blimy’ North London accent.
It didn’t take me long to have a shower, wearing a shower cap to keep my hair dry, and then get dressed in a pink top and nice black skirt. Underneath I was wearing some white panties and black tights from unopened pack’s of Megan’s. I was too shy to ask for a bra, my chest was a bit sensitive, to say the least lately. My hair was in a bit of a mess and needed some serious styling, but I had managed to coax it into some sort of feminine style and as no-one screamed in horror, I assumed that it looked okay and fairly presentable.
It was strange sitting around their kitchen table eating some cornflakes like any normal sort of family. Only things weren't normal. Apart from the fact that no-one batted an eyelid about what I was wearing, I felt a bit strange and unreal. Occasionally, I shuddered and felt nervous. I had been welcomed into their home, but with everything up in the air, I had no idea when the axe was going to fall and I would possibly be dragged off to court to answer for my deeds. Did they still do hard labour?
Then again, it took a lot for me not to break down in tears over the loss of my mum. I had no feelings for my dad and hadn't had any for all the time I could remember.
It was slowly dawning on me that I was an orphan and I had no idea what the future might bring. Uncle Brian said that he would be very surprised if any charges would be brought against me, as I acted in self-defence and my actions were justifiable given the circumstances and his words gave me some comfort, but not much.
Megan was as chatty as anything, but to this day, I can’t remember what she actually said. She had a bubbly personality and could talk for England or rather Wales as she considered herself to be at least half Welsh. I wished that I was like her, without any real worries other than the normal things that kids go through as they grow up. She was quite sporty and liked riding her bike; she was a member of the local club. She also had a pony called Bunty which was stabled just outside town.
‘How are you feeling?’ asked Auntie Rachel as I helped dry up the breakfast things.
Uncle Brian had gone off with Megan in his car to the stables, something to do with exercising and mucking out, whatever that was. They had asked if I wanted to go, but I wasn't up to going outside at that point. Megan looked very nice in her riding gear, although, looking at the weather outside and the threat of snow, I did not think that she would get much riding that day.
‘I’m tired, scared and want to cry all the time. Auntie, is that normal?’
‘Very normal after what you have been through. After Christmas, we will get you to see a specialist that can help you with your problems.’
‘A psychiatrist?’ I asked.
‘Yes and we also need to get a referral from the doctor about your gender issues sooner rather than later.’
I accidentally dropped a plate and it shattered on the flagstone floor.
Looking at my hands in horror and then at the mess, I started to cry.
‘I...I’m sorry, sorry, I didn't mean it...’
Auntie hugged me tightly.
‘There, there sweety, don’t worry, it’s only a plate.’
‘D...Dad would have b...belted me for doing that,’ I sniffed.
If anything, she hugged me even tighter.
‘No one is going to hit you in this household honey, that's a promise. I didn't know why your mum married that awful man, she said that she was in love, but he was bad when I first met him and he stayed bad until the end. The only good thing about the marriage is that you are here with us now.’
‘What about me being a girl?’ I asked.
‘You are what you feel inside. Everything else doesn't matter. You are lucky that your male hormones haven't kicked in yet. The doctors will tell you what your options are but according to the internet, if you can believe it, there are pills you can take that stop your body changing before you decide if you definitely want to stay as a girl.’
‘I am a girl.’ I said emphatically as we sat down at the kitchen table and had yet another cup of tea.
‘Looking at you honey, I would certainly agree with that, but once again according to the great God Google, kids do change their minds and the last thing you want is to make the wrong decision. Whatever you do decide, we will be with you all the way.’
‘If they don’t send me away, can I stay for a while?’
‘You betcha kid!’
It took me a day or two to get used to being with my Auntie and Uncle, not forgetting Megan. It was very strange living with a family that was actually loving rather than one that was confrontational and violent. The impending approach of Christmas was in full swing in the house but I didn’t feel much like celebrating as I had too much on my plate. However, I tried not to be a party pooper and at least appeared to be cheerful and enthusiastic while Megan gradually got more excited as the days went by. You would have thought she was a kid of six waiting for Santa to come down the chimney rather than a teenager, all be it a new one.
What can I say about my cousin Megan? She accepted me for who I was, indeed she encouraged me to try on almost everything in her extended wardrobe and was very generous with her praise. She treated me as a sister, not a bickering type of relationship but a nice and friendly one. I looked at her as the friend I never had and I think she felt the same as me. Megan, being Megan, had loads of friends who were always popping in. I was drawn into the circle and I liked most of the girls very much.
On one of our dressing tryouts, we wore very similar clothes and stood next to each other looking in her mirror.
‘You look quite a bit like me,’ she said.
I had to agree, we could be sisters, we were so much alike.
‘I always wanted a sister,’ she said quietly, ‘Mum and Dad can’t have any more babies, plumbing problems or something.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘you have got a cousin and that’s the next best thing.’
‘Let's try on something else Cuz,’
Being a minor, news of my involvement in my parent’s deaths had not been broadcast. My home was far away and due to the fact that murders in London were unfortunately fairly common, the news never really got reported locally. Until after the inquest and my possible trial, the bodies of my parents were not to be released for burial. It was just another thing for me to be concerned about. I just wanted everything to end so that I could get on with my life. Auntie called it closure.
None of Megan's friends knew much about me except that I was her cousin staying with her family for a while because of problems at home. Everyone assumed some sort of marriage breakdown or divorce situation and they were nice, as they did not press me about what was actually going on. One problem was that I was not allowed out of the house without the supervision of my aunt or uncle, this was one of the conditions of my staying with them and not some sort of secure home while my fate was being decided for me.
The reason for me not going out was given as a slight case of agoraphobia caused by the trauma of the problems that I had had at home. It wasn't much of an excuse, but it was accepted at face value. I did want to go out, if only for a breath of fresh air, but I knew that that would cause me all sorts of problems and I was happy enough to bide my time and wait for the outcome of the investigations.
I made friends with one girl in particular, Chloe. She went to Megan’s school and was a bit on the quiet side, like me. I vividly recalled a conversation I had with her in my bedroom just a few days before. The others were watching a film on the TV in the lounge.
We were sitting on my bed, flicking through a couple of girlie mags and making comments about how good or bad this or that girl looked. It was nice to have my own bedroom, the house was quite large and had several. My one overlooked the pretty garden and was next to Megan's.
‘It’s a nice bedroom this,’ said Chloe looking around.
‘Yes, it is. I like it anyway.’
‘Its much bigger than my one and has a nice view,’ she said, ‘how long are you staying here?’
‘I don't know, everything is up in the air at the moment.’
‘It must be horrible to be in your situation. I didn't know what I would do if my mum and dad broke up.’
I flicked over the pages of the magazine and felt tears well up in my eyes. It was all so very hard. I tried to forget for just a few moments what had happened but it didn’t take much for me to relive the horrible night when my world fell in.
It was no good trying to hold it in, I just started to cry and I couldn't stop. Over and over again, I relived the death of Mum and Dad and it was as if I was still there, in the kitchen and all the blood and violence...
Things got a bit sketchy then, as I sort of fell apart.
The next thing I knew, I was tucked up in bed and it was much later. Auntie was sitting in the chair by the window and she looked up when I made a slight movement.
She got up and came over.
‘How are you feeling Sammi?’
‘Tired and floaty,’ I replied yawning.
‘You don't remember what happened?’
‘I...I threw a wobbly when Chloe was in here. Oh, Auntie, I didn't frighten her did I?’
‘No, she has a sensible head, that one. She called me and I called the doctor. He gave you something to calm you down. Tomorrow morning we are going to see someone about the horrible things that have happened to you. We were going to leave it until after the holidays but Doctor Robinson suggested that we start to get you help sooner rather than later. He was surprised that you held yourself together for so long.’
‘Does Chloe know about me?’ I asked.
‘She heard it all from your own lips. You rather blurted it all out when you were crying on her shoulder. But she’s a nice girl and has said that she will only tell her parents.’
‘Did I tell her about my, erm girl-boy thing?’
‘Yes, but she doesn’t care. Her brother is gay and she and her parents are very supportive. She didn't bat an eyelid. She still likes you a lot and even though she hasn't known you for that long, she considers you to be a close friend and wouldn't do anything to harm you.’
‘At school, it’s the last day before the Christmas break. She wanted to stay home to look after you and generally be a pest, but I told her that she was better off at school. The last thing you want is a hyperactive Megan hanging around.’
‘I am the one that’s the pest,’ I said, ‘I have caused you all nothing but trouble.’
‘Rubbish, look you are family and families should help one another. The fact that you have had a rotten time lately is not your fault. We love having you with us and I hope that we can make your Christmas as happy as possible. I know that you grieve for your mum and even maybe your dad, but you have to try to make the best of it. When we see the doctor tomorrow she will hopefully help you cope with all your problems. Now, I can see that you are still sleepy and you need to rest up. We’ll speak later, okay?’
She got up and went over to the door.
‘I’ll bring you up something to eat a bit later. If you need me, just holler, okay?’
‘Okay, thanks Auntie.’
‘No problem.’ She replied with a smile so like my mum’s that I almost thought that it was her standing there.
The next day found me in the waiting room of the psychiatrist with my Auntie along for moral support. Uncle Brian was at work; he had wanted to come, but was in court that day and couldn't get out of it. Megan was at a friends house although she had wanted to come too, but was told firmly that it was not appropriate.Chloe had rung me before we left to wish me good luck and she made me promise to ring her later. It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling that so many people cared about me.
I was wearing a fluffy pink woolly top that was very warm, a black knee length skirt with thick black tights and short black boots. I could have worn jeans, it was a cold winter’s day, but I was revelling in the fact that I could dress as girly as I liked and it made me feel a bit better about myself. The black hooded puffa jacket and woolly scarf were Megan’s and it was nice that I was even allowed a little bit of lippy and it tasted nice and strawberry flavoured on my lips.
That didn’t mean that I wasn’t nervous about the appointment, but it all helped, just a little.
I had taken my jacket and scarf off and hung them on a hook and then waited with Auntie while the doctor finished seeing another patient.
All too soon a boy a bit older than me came out with who I took to be his parents. He looked upset and that didn’t bode well for me and the parents looked a bit grim. After a few minutes, we were asked to go into the consulting room. A lady stood up from behind a desk and walked over to us. She was pretty, about thirty I would say and she had a sunny and friendly smile. On first looks, I liked her. Whether I would like her in an hour or two’s time was another matter.
We said our hello’s and I found myself sitting on a sofa next to Auntie with Doctor Norris sitting opposite.
‘Wel, Samantha, I have some notes from your GP, Doctor Robinson. You have been through it a bit haven’t you?’
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
‘Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite.’
I smiled erm, nervously.
‘Now I want to find out from your own lips what exactly has been happening to you. You can take your time, this is a double appointment.’
I took a deep breath and told her everything. It sounds easy that, but it wasn’t. At first, I was hesitant and then I was upset. For a few minutes, I had to stop and have a bit of a cry. We had a cup of tea and some nice chocky biscuits and then I continued.
As I recounted my experiences, the doctor asked me the occasional question like when I first thought that I was a girl and what I felt about my father now that he was dead.
The first one was hard to answer as I had no exact time when I realised that I was a girl, it sort of just crept up on me unawares but the second one was easier to answer.
‘I don’t, I mean didn’t love my dad and I can’t remember when I ever did. He was always distant to me and didn't want to know about what I was getting up to. He was more interested in being down the pub with his cronies than with his family. Oh, he did try and make me a man by playing football with me over the park and once asking me fishing with him, but once he could see that I wasn't that interested in those sort of things, I think that he wrote me off as a little pansy as he liked to call me.’
‘Did he ever catch you dressed as a girl?’
‘No, it came close. One day I was home from school at lunchtime. The school had a power cut and sent everyone home. He came back early from the pub, he normally spent a lot of time at the pub, he preferred it to home. Anyway, I heard the front door slam shut. I was in the bathroom wearing a skirt and blouse. I had locked the toilet door and he tried to get in. He said he was dying for a jimmy, that's Jimmy Riddle, slang for...’
‘I know dear, carry on.’
‘Anyway, luckily I had a pair of pyjamas in the wash bin and I changed into them quickly, putting the girl's things in the wash bin, then I flushed the toilet and came out quickly. He gave me a cuff around the ear told me to get out of the way and then rushed into the bathroom. He didn't ask why I was at home or wearing pyjamas, so that was lucky,’
‘How did you manage to get some girls clothes?’
‘They were my sisters mainly but a few things I got from the charity shop.’
Then I had to explain about my sister and the ‘accident’ that had caused her death.
Auntie got a bit upset at hearing about that and left the room to powder her nose. Girl talk for going to the loo. She returned after a bit, but I noticed that her eyes were a rather red.
After a few more minutes talking about why I felt as if I was a girl and the doctor asking personal questions as to whether I got a thrill out of dressing, I think that I managed to persuade her that my feelings were genuine and that I really did consider myself to be a girl.
The searching questions about the death of my parents were even harder to recount. I was re-living the horror yet again; as if I hadn't done that time after time since it all happened. There was another bout of crying and I had to stop for a while but eventually, I finished. I was physically and mentally drained and I had cried myself dry. There were no more tears and I felt strangely empty of emotions. I didn't know how long that would last but that was the only good thing about the situation.
All this time Auntie was sat beside me, holding my hand reassuringly. I could see that she was very upset too and had tears in her eyes. She looked at me and smiled comfortingly as the doctor made copious notes.
I was so pleased that she was helping me through all of this.
The doctor finally finished writing, put her pen down and then looked at me.
‘Well Samantha, you certainly have had a terrible time of it. I am sorry if I grilled you a bit but I needed to get to the bottom of what you were feeling and I think that I get the gist of what has been happening. I will need to see you again to go into things far more thoroughly.On the medical side, I understand that Doctor Robinson has taken some of your blood for testing and the results should be in in a few days. While you were unconscious, he gave you an examination, with your guardian's consent. He says that he noticed a few things of concern. Firstly, that you are possibly anaemic. He also noticed that your testicles have not descended; a condition known as cryptorchidism, indeed he could not find evidence of testicles anywhere that he could examine. You will have to have scans to find out what is going on inside you and then a course of action can be decided.’
‘Am I sick?’ I asked.
‘We think that you have a few problems, but they can do things about those, so do not worry about that now. Doctor Robinson also noted whilst examining you, that you have early signs of developing as a female, particularly in the hip and breast areas. This could be connected to cryptorchidism. ’
‘Is that why my nipples itch a lot and my chest looks a bit puffy?’
‘Possibly, but you may have what’s known as Klinefelter's syndrome or extra X chromosomes, that's why we needed a blood test, but don’t worry about any of that now as it’s pointless to speculate until the results of your tests come through. Now moving on to the terrible deaths of your mother and father. You have seen and experienced things that no child should go through. Men and women who go to war see things that affect them deeply. Anyone who has experienced deep trauma can be affected. It’s called PTSD or Post-traumatic stress disorder. It is a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event — either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event. I think that you have been experiencing these things, am I right?’
I nodded. It was almost as if she had been inside my head.
‘Well, like your other problems, we are here to help. It won’t be easy and there isn't a quick fix, but with the support of the medical team and your family, we will get you through this, okay Samantha?’
I nodded, not knowing quite what to say after all the revelations that I had heard.
She carried on talking for quite a while and frankly much of it went over my head. It appeared to me that I was a complete mess physically and mentally. But she did reassure me that there would be lots of support and that I would get through it all, eventually.
I nodded, maybe there was a small light at the end of the tunnel, but I thought that it was a very small light and a very long tunnel.
That night my emotions were up and down. I was in bed thinking about all that occurred earlier. I had been allowed to search the internet about the conditions that the doctor had talked about. I must admit that I was feeling around my scrotum and couldn’t feel anything in the sack. My penis was small and unlike the stories that I had heard from boys at my school, I had never experienced a stiffy as they liked to call it.
It was funny, I had never thought about what should or shouldn't be in there, down below. I knew no different. It wasn't as if I went around looking and feeling other people’s erm, private parts.
Then I felt my chest where the nipples were. They did feel puffy and the nipples itched a lot. Auntie gave me some cream to rub in, but it didn't seem to help much. Maybe it took time to work?
Evidently, Auntie was going to take me shopping the next day for some bras. That sounded like fun (not). Mind you anything to stop that annoying itching was okay in my book.
It looked like my body was maybe trying to tell me that I was a girl. I would like that, no I would love that!
I fell asleep dreaming that I would be the girl I wanted to be and all my problems might, at last, be over.
Please leave comments and let me know if you want this to continue. Oh, and if you can, please do the kudo-thingie...thanks! ~Sue
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