It's as Simple as Falling off a Fence

She was a welcome site of rare beauty, standing there in that little wisp of a black lace mini skirt. The one that only came down to about eight inches or so above her knees and left very little to the imagination. Her ample, but firm, young, C cup breasts straining against the fabric of her bra and blouse. Her long black hair curling around her shoulders, as it cascaded down towards the small of her back. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but merely picked up on random words, as she softly spoke of me taking a fall and having a concussion. I also thought I saw a small tear forming in the corner of her eye.

As I began coming out of the fog and slowly started regaining my senses, I glanced down at my feet, wondering why they didn’t work and move as I willed them to. And my crotch still hurt. I noticed that my feet were tied to a set of female stirrups, like the ones I had seen on Doctor’s exam tables a few times. And my crotch still hurt.

About that time, a young doctor walked in to examine me, and informed us that I would be able to go home later that same day, since I was making such good progress. He quietly went to work checking my eyes, my pulse and my head wound, then quickly checked some bandages down under my blanket, before releasing my feet from their restraints.

As he left the room, I glanced down at my blanket-covered crotch and saw a nice sized bulge, just where it should be. With that, I was happy in the knowledge that things would be OK and soon return to normal. Thinking my injuries were all relatively minor, I closed my eyes and drifted off into a rather blissful sleep, in spite of the dull, throbbing pain in my crotch. Down deep, I also knew that, if I were in a hospital, things would have been taken care of, and I would heal - in time.

As I slept, my mind took me back to the day before. In my mind I went to my back yard, where Kathy and I had been entertaining my best friend, Dan, and his girlfriend, Francine. We had all four grown up together and were well beyond being simply best friends. We had grown to a point of being as close as family, without the legal and blood ties. The day had been one of those typically hot, humid, summer days, just outside Chicago. The temperature was running close to 94, in the shade, the humidity felt close to 100%, and not a cloud was in the sky.

We had all been dressed in our bathing suits, running around the back yard playing our childish games, like water fights with the garden hose and various plastic pitchers of cold ice water from our kitchen. Dan and I had decided to take a break from the sun and took up a game of horseshoes, taking advantage of the only serious shade available. I had a nice shade tree hanging out over each of the two horseshoe pits, at my fence line.

Our back yard was a fair sized lot, for being in a small town, it ran just under a half-acre in itself, then the house and front yard were added to it. For security, the previous owner had installed a chain link fence around the yard, to keep neighboring kids from using the yard as part of their bicycle trails and tag routes. But it still offered only a limited amount of privacy from the prying eyes of anyone wanting to see what we were doing.

Dan and I both enjoyed short legged, loose fitting swimsuits, almost to the point of letting it all hang free for the world to see. The girls were running around in something closely resembling thong bikinis. Their panty bottoms were so skimpy, Dan and I had both given up even trying to get ice cubes inside them as part of our earlier games. Since the four of us had been so close growing up all these years, we had also become somewhat accustomed to seeing each other in various states of undress, so none of this bothered anyone in the group. If we had taken the opportunity to go to one of our favorite lakeside hangouts that day, we would probably have been skinny dipping by this time anyway. It didn’t take long before Dan and I also found ourselves perched on the top rail of the fence between throws, to grab a quick rest. As we quietly enjoyed our game, Kathy and Fran began getting bored and a bit more playful.

As Dan and I were enjoying our new perches, the girls came over and began quietly and very skillfully fondling us under our trunks. Before long, I was beginning to sport an erection to be proud of. As it grew, it began crawling down my right leg and out from under the protection of my trunks. It quickly began poking it’s head into the sunlight. As it did, we both noticed that it was also coming out, literally through the fence itself. I had accidentally managed to position myself so that one of openings in the fence was almost perfectly positioned in front of me, and I was growing right through that little opening. Since the fence was also missing some of the wire ties that hold the top rail to the fence, the rail was also slightly bent under my weight to help with that positioning.

All of this quickly turned into another game for us, as Kathy and I both noticed the rather unique possibilities here. We had found another, rather interesting, position to explore. With all of the summer heat, my scrotum had extended itself as much as possible, trying to get as much cool air as possible to my sperm factory. Once Kathy noticed this, she quickly fished my balls through the opening in the fence as well, so that she could continue playing with them before I got too much of an erection to block this maneuver by filling too much of the hole made by the chain link. As I had only progressed to half-staff when she did this, she found the fit to be close but still extremely tight. Then, once I came to full attention, we found that there was no way I could move through such a small opening, in either direction.

As everything began emerging on the opposite side of the fence, it took on a surreal appearance of it’s own. At first glance it looked like the fence itself had gotten a hard on, and from my perspective there wasn’t even a bit of hair visible with it either. Just a cock and a pair of balls sticking out. I had to laugh when I told her it reminded me of a scene from the movie “Porky’s, where a student stuck his through a hole in the wall and into the girl’s shower, only to be attacked by that nasty old gym teacher.

As the erection reached it’s maximum potential, I quickly found that I now had no room to simply pull myself out. I was now a total prisoner of that chain link fence, I had no choice but to sit there and wait for my urges to subside and release me from this new type of bondage we had discovered. Kathy, on the other hand was having the time of her life. She knew what my predicament was, and made the best of it. She had also promised that she would pack my poor partner in some ice to help me get out, once she was done. With all of her feminine skills, she fondled and stroked that poor thing, keeping it at full size for well over an hour. Then, just at the sun began setting in the western sky, she quietly bent down and set about giving me one of the most exquisite displays of oral sex that you can imagine. She had to be careful with it though, since my neighbor was also in his driveway working on his car, and in full sight of what was happening.

Fran had finished up with Dan about half an hour earlier, so he hopped off the fence and the two of them left for a night on the town. As Dan jumped off of his perch, the ridge pole sprung back a little and allowed the fence to actually tighten it’s grip on my manhood. Sexually it was still a turn on and a half. They were both polite enough to, jokingly, let me know there was no reason for me to get up and see them out, they ensured me that they knew the way, and that they would see us the following day. About the only problem I had was that, by this time, that ridge pole, and the top layer of fencing, was also starting to dig it’s way into my ass. And I still couldn’t get out of the fence.

This little problem was solved when Kathy went to the garage and returned with a short 2x4 that we were able to work into position as a seat cushion between my back side and the fence. By this time, even the discomfort of the wires at the top of the fence, where the two links had been twisted together to tie these wire links into position, had began to dig into my body. But only to the point of scratching and trying to grab hold of me, rather than letting me totally relax. It was weird and kind of kinky, and it was helping keep me excited to the point of making escape that much more impossible. I was beginning to wonder if I would be sitting out here until well after midnight.

I was now well beyond any point of full public display than I had ever been in my life, and I was in my own little world of ecstasy. At least when we had gone skinny dipping in the past, I always had the option of hiding my nakedness with the water around me. Here, even if the Pope or Queen of England had walked by, I would still be able to do nothing to hide my condition. Even my hands were unavailable for cover since I needed them to help maintain my balance, as the fence held me totally captive. At one point Kathy laughed and began joking with me, as she went on to comment that she should think about putting me into one of her skirts, then leaving me out here all night like this. The skirt would help to hide my condition from the neighbors, and wouldn’t really look too much like a skirt as long as it was properly tucked away and I stayed in my current position, besides, it would also help to act as a mosquito guard for our little friend. Since the sun was starting down, those little blood sucking critters would soon be swarming.

Then, as I glanced around, trying to find the prying eyes of the neighbors, I saw that my next door neighbor was still working on his car and had gotten to the point of test running the engine. He was so engrossed in what he was doing that I knew I didn’t have to worry about him. Besides, he knew we were young, hot blooded and still single, and he didn’t care about that at all. He was even one of these types to bring us occasional suggestions on when, where and how to do it. He is also the type that would have laughed himself silly, had he known what we had accomplished that afternoon.

The neighbor was a paramedic, and would often come to our house and treat us to hours of stories about different situations he had come across on the job. Like the day some guy had gotten himself stuck in a rusted hole in his car door as he was arguing with his wife in their garage. The sharp edge of the hole had a death grip on his manhood, and his wife only wanted to get out of there and drive to the store. But that was a different story in it’s own right. I slowly began leaning slightly against the shade tree for additional support as I calmly waited for my eventual release.

Suddenly, the neighbor’s car slipped out of gear and began rolling. It rolled right into the end of the fence I was sitting on. When it hit, it jarred the fence hard enough to cause me to lose my balance and fall forward, right onto the horseshoe pit. I ended up catching the ragged end of the horseshoe stake right down the length of my crotch, ripping open everything in it’s path as I fell. Before passing out, I glanced back up at the fence, and saw that it still sported a slight erection, and a pair of balls, and I was now a good five or six feet away from it.

The next thing I remembered was beginning to wake up at the hospital. As I did, I found myself being given another shot, and wheeled quickly into an operating room. Then I was out again, until I woke up this time, in recovery.

Now, as I was drifting off again, the doctor came back to the room and handed me a bottle of pills to take home with me, for the pain. I mustered up enough strength to ask him how long it would take things to heal down there, so that I could return to a somewhat normal sex life. I already knew in my heart that my balls were gone, but I also knew that my shaft could be reattached, and that I could still have sex, even without my balls, if I wanted to.

He looked me straight in the eye and told me that I would never have “Normal” sex again, and that I had severed, and lost my penis as well. As hard as they tried, they found my detached member so mangled and torn that it was non-repairable, I didn’t even have a stump left to work with either. I was now a full-fledged Eunuch. He went on to explain that there were also further complications I should know about, and be ready to face the results. Apparently the ragged edge of the horseshoe post had done enough damage to my piss tube that it also had to be shortened drastically, as part of my earlier surgery. I now had a new pee hole about an inch away from my bunghole. I would be squatting to pee, girl fashion, for the rest of my life.

With that news beginning to sink in, I quickly glanced down and pointed to the bulge in my crotch, and with a questioning look, began pulling at the bulky material between my legs. The doctor simply smiled, and said – “Nothing more than bandages and drainage pads down there, “young lady”. Be careful not to pull out your catheter.”

It was then that I began to realize that Kathy was still at my side, squeezing my hand. All she could do was cry about what had happened, and accuse herself of being at blame for all of it. That was a year and a half ago.

Today, Kathy and I are still together, and as close as we ever were. We still please each other sexually, but we also do it as two girls would, only occasionally adding a strap-on appliance for a change of pace.

When I first left the hospital, I went home only to find that my clothes no longer did the job for me. To begin with, my jockeys had so much material in the crotch that they began irritating my wounds and actually hindered any attempts at healing. Then there were my pants.

I had always worn either double knit slacks or denim jeans in the past. But now when I tried them on, the seams began cutting into my wounds and making the pain almost unbearable. Kathy and I tried almost everything we could think of, all without success. Then, later that evening, she calmly reminded me of the comment made by the doctor, when he called me ”Young Lady”. She smiled, then went on and suggested I try a pair of her panties and one of her skirts, until I had healed to the point of being able to wear my own things again.

I reluctantly accepted and quickly found that these worked out very well for me. The panties fit almost perfectly, with no bulky material to speak of, and the skirt allowed me all the unbinding freedom I needed so much, although it was a bit snug around the waist. I was initially embarrassed, but still somewhat comfortable. Since the skirt was too snug to fit my actual waist, we found that I could simply move it up a little on my stomach and make it fit. My new waistline would have to be roughly the same place a girl’s natural waistline would be, a bit closer to my navel, to make this work. I wouldn’t be able to wear them around company, of course, but when it was just the two of us, and just around the house, it should be OK.

The following day, Kathy decided to go shopping. I was glad to see her go, and get away from all of this for a short while. While she was gone, I decided to return to the back yard and take a good look at where all of this had happened. I grabbed my bathrobe and slipped it on to hide my skirt, then carefully strolled to the infamous horseshoe pit.

When I got to the pit, I noticed the dried up bloody trail streaking down the fence, and a bloody pole in the middle of the horseshoe pit. As I examined the area a bit closer my whole body began to tremble, as I realized just how lucky I had been through all of this.

In the sand of the pit, I could see a perfect outline of where I had landed the day before. Although it too was still outlined with a bloody mess, my impression in the sand was clearly visible. It had been a near perfect landing. Had I fallen an inch to either side, or an inch shorter, I would have found myself totally impaled on that bloodstained metal post. An inch or so further away and my head would have become permanently imbedded in a large rock that I had to help protect a new rose bush from being run over with the lawn mower or being accidentally hit by an errant horseshoe. I somberly returned to the comfort of the house while considering the question of how someone like me could lose so much and still walk away from it feeling lucky.

I was also beginning to notice the start of some minor itching as my crotch hair was beginning to grow back from my surgical shave. Somehow I just knew that, once it had grown back, nobody would know the difference – at first glance, between me and any other woman who might accidentally be standing around - naked from the waist down. What was I doing now, I thought, I am standing here comparing myself, down there, to a “WOMAN”?

I was caught up in total concentration about all of this, and it’s implications on my, or rather – Our, future as I continued waiting for Kathy. I needed her to just hold me now more than ever. When she finally returned home though, she had a surprise for me. With a mischievous gleam in her eye, she presented me with 12 pair of my very own white cotton, women’s panties and three brand new skirts to wear. She even threw in a cute little sundress, and a pair of sandals for me to wear, as a meager attempt at trying to make a small private joke.

Along with the panties, she also presented me with a package of women’s feminine napkins to wear. To help with drainage problems from the surgery, and minimize my embarrassment should I soak through my panties and begin leaving stains whenever I sat down. I personally would never have thought about this problem, but I was also beginning to find the thought of needing to wear a napkin, somewhat sensual, in it’s own way. After all, I wasn’t a man any more, and in a bi-polar society like we have, that must mean that I was now a woman, and women wear napkins from time to time, right?

The skirts she bought for me were all knee length, with short 6” back zippers, two of them having a full flare at the hem and the third one cut into a much tighter “business suit” style that allowed a lot less room for me to move my knees about. She quickly explained that the tighter one was something of a “Training Skirt” to help remind me to keep my knees together when I sat, so that I wasn’t flashing my new panties at all of the neighbors. She also pointed out that, for the time being, we could share blouses. The dress was a lightweight floral print. It was sleeveless, with a 20-inch back zipper, but it too also had a full skirt. It was light enough that it should still be cool enough to wear in the summer heat without too much discomfort. The biggest thing is that there was no material in any of them that would irritate my surgical wounds, and that in itself would result in a lot of added comfort.

Another point that she had failed to mention was that all of these skirts had the same size waistband as the one I was now wearing did. I reluctantly pointed this out to her and she simply told me that I would just have to adjust to them, by dieting. And that this way she could borrow them from time to time too. Besides, she pointed out, if I were to take up wearing these things more often, I had a choice of either adapting to the new, higher and more feminine waistline, or re-sewing all of my new hems, just to keep the length right.

We still hadn’t taken time to discuss how all of this was going to affect us, and our relationship. We were both having a hard time dealing with this, each in our own way and from our own perspective. At the same time, each of us was trying to look at it from each other’s perspective as well. I was worried that not being able to be with Kathy, as a man, would give her more than enough reason to start looking elsewhere. I was ready to just sit down and cry. At least with something of a more lighthearted and joking approach, we may be able to get through these remaining days a bit easier. So I swallowed as much of my pride as I could, and tried my best to look at the comical side of it. Down deep, I knew that I could never again be the man I was less than 36 hours earlier. Never in my life would I be able to father a child with Kathy, or reach up inside of her during intercourse, to find that secret spot that gives her so much joy. I began thinking that, Sexually, I could now do nothing more for her than her little sister could, if she had had one.

By the end of the week, after the bandages started coming off, I was an emotional wreck. I would look down between my legs and see a near perfect outline – of a woman. The panties even made the illusion that much more complete, but I still could not tolerate the thought of going back to jockeys either. The panties were that much more comfortable, and now that much more appropriate too. In a rather vain attempt to come out of this depressive state, I finally said “To Hell With It”, and decided to try doing something about it.

That evening, in my own vain attempt to pick on her and let her know I did not hold her responsible in any way for all of this, I decided to go ahead and wear my new dress and sandals for our little backyard BBQ. I even took time to get into Kathy’s things, and crawled into a pair of her pantyhose and one of her panty girdles. By this time I had healed to the point that the girdle didn’t really offer much discomfort. As a matter of fact it felt kind of kinky, the way it held my stomach in place. I had worn this thing before, but this time is was a lot different. It actually felt as if it were beginning to mold itself to my body, rather than simply draping around the typical male bulge down below, looking like a tent. It felt “Proper”, and with my flat front, it looked a lot more natural than ever before.

I had also taken the time to fix my hair into more of a feminine fashion, or at least what I thought was feminine. I had worn it long, for a guy anyway, for quite some time now, and since I sometimes helped Kathy with her’s, I knew at least a little about what I was doing. I checked myself in a full-length wall mirror then stepped out into the back yard. I figured that, since it was now after sunset, the darkness should help to allow me to escape any of the neighbor’s eyes that may be looking in our direction, or at least confuse them enough that they wouldn’t know who they were looking at.

As I boldly stepped through the back door, I saw both Dan and Fran sitting there waiting for their burgers. Kathy had been so distraught lately, over the accident that she had honestly forgotten to tell me they were coming over. I should have remembered that they came over every Friday evening like this. Talk about all around surprise and shock. We all ended up having a good laugh about it, and settled in for a quick round of drinks and cards at the dining room table.

The joke of the day had, by then, turned to my appearance, or rather to my choice of clothing, when Fran came up with the revelation that a “proper young lady” doesn’t normally wear a full beard, like mine. I was quickly held down and shaved, I offered little resistance, but I did insist that if they were going to shave me at all, then it had to be a full body shave from the shoulders down. At the time, I didn’t even realize that my dress had worked it’s way up over my hips, and that my brand new panties, and my feminine napkin were now in full view – wings and all.

Due to Fran’s joke, the evening quickly dissolved into an impromptu make up session, with my freshly shaved and lotioned body serving as the sacrificial guinea pig, as I sat quietly wearing nothing more than my panties, panty girdle, pantyhose and my new sundress. The two of them had elected not to put me back into the girdle, they said I didn’t really need it, and that it didn’t match the outfit anyway. We were all finally having so much fun that when Dan suggested we go out for coffee, everyone naturally went along with his idea.

The next thing I knew, Fran and Kathy were once again taking down the top part of my dress and fitting me into one of Kathy’s bras, complete with padding. Suddenly, I heard was a small ripping sound when one of the side seams of my dress decided to let go. Then I heard Kathy tell me not to worry about it, she could fix it when we got back. She said she would find something else for me to wear.

With that, Fran continued pulling off my dress as Kathy disappeared into the bedroom. She quickly returned with my tight skirt and one of her silk blouses for me to wear. She also brought me a pair of her hot pink lace panties, and a new napkin, to replace the plain cotton pair I was wearing. As she put me into the skirt she mentioned that this was an ideal time to start my training in acting like a proper lady, and that if anyone did catch a glimpse of my lace panties, at least they would not be disappointed. Once dressed and made up, I was handed a purse containing my identification, house keys, additional makeup and pocket money, as we headed towards Dan’s car for our drive to our favorite hangout. We had a ball, for the first time since the accident.

While trying to make yet another joke and keep things on a light hearted note, Dan commented during our little outing, that this was the first time he had ever gone out with three such good looking young ladies at the same time. I seemed to detect something of a serious note in his voice when he made that comment this time though. Dan and I had done this dressing up type of thing a couple of times before, in conjunction with a couple of Halloween parties, but never like this. For those parties, Kathy had made me up to look like a pretty, young schoolgirl, and Dan had been made up to look like a hooker, but everyone still knew we were nothing more than a couple of guys in dresses and acted accordingly. Now such a comment was beginning to take on a whole new meaning, after all, now I HAD to sit to pee. And I could legally use the ladies room if I wanted.

Over the next few weeks these thoughts kept burning a trail through my mind, as I found myself eagerly getting out of my brand new nightgown and into a fresh pair of my very own women’s panties each and every morning. Dan and his parents had given my new nightgowns to me jokingly, as get-well gifts. My Jockey’s had been thrown out rather quickly, since I didn’t need them any more, and since the panties had become a much better and more comfortable fit. Over the next couple of weeks I had even managed to pick up a couple pair of pantyhose and a pair of tights to wear too, along with two more pair of women’s shoes. To this day, I can’t remember why I got them, all I can remember is that it made sense and sounded like fun at the time.

When I picked up these new things, they had apparently been intended as a joke, but that joke was becoming more and more serious as the days, weeks and months passed. I still had my friends, and I still had Kathy. Other than me, nothing much had changed yet. As for me, it was now also becoming somewhat common for me to run around, both at home and out in the community, entirely in women’s wear, partly because of the comfort level, but mostly as a joke . . . . a joke, Hm-m-m-m-m. I had even taken a few opportunities to go bowling and golfing in a skirt and blouse, along with Kathy’s lace panties, it gave me the opportunity to officially tee off from the white tees and gave me a couple of strokes advantage. I was beginning to wonder about my sanity.

Then one day it hit me, like a ton of bricks. I was beginning to actually think of myself as a woman. I was wearing their clothes and enjoying it. I could no longer perform as a man, but was also enjoying performing as a woman in bed too. At the bowling alley I even caught myself asking for shoes in women’s sizes rather than men’s. When it came time to relieve myself, I was casually walking into the nearest ladies room to do so. And I was beginning to think differently about clothes shopping with Kathy. More than once, I caught myself thinking how I would look in a few of these fashions, and often ended up trying them on and taking some of them home with us.

As I thought, I began to realize that, not only was I enjoying the more womanly things in life, but everyone around me was also beginning to treat me as a lady too, even when I was wearing my boy things. My dwindling muscular strength resulted in more and more offers of help when loading things into my car, and I didn’t need to shave nearly as often. It finally registered that I was actually becoming a woman, within my own little world. And I loved it. I knew it was much more than the simple joking around and the occasional playing around that normally ended up with having a bit of tweezing done on my eyebrows, or the left over stain of lipstick on my face, after yet another evening of fun with Kathy. Instead, something wonderful was happening.

Over the next couple of months, I got into therapy and onto female hormones. Over this past year I have developed to the point of also needing to wear a C cup, very similar to the ones Kathy would wear, lots of lace and sexy colors. A couple of months ago, I went to court and came away with a brand new name to match my brand new body. I was now officially – “a girl”. Since then, I have never looked back and have never regretted that decision, or my accident. Talk about making lemonade. . . . At least I hadn’t fallen backwards that day, I might have hurt my head if I had. Worse yet, I may have pulled off the shaft and left the rest of the package intact. The way things happened, I had no recourse but to accept my fate and make the best of it.

Now, as we cuddle in front of the fireplace, I often tell Kathy how lucky I am to have discovered this side of my personality. Had it not been for the accident, we would probably have never even given it any serious consideration. She typically responds by telling me that she is just as happy with the fact that both of us have also turned into a pair of Lesbians too.