A Letter To Melissa

The idea was that any boy who wanted to avoid conscription and eventual death would have to go through a procedure that was developed a decade ago before the war. The procedure was a cosmetic one, though a very in-depth and intesive procedure. It involved altering various aspects of the bodies of these boys so as to turn them from healthy teenaged boys into equally healthy teenaged girls. As I can imagine, you are going through the same initial reaction that my parents did. But it was necessary and there were going to be no other choices. Acting quickly, the parents quietly rounded up a few surgeons and a medical staff that would be willing to perform the procedures. Following that, a list of 19 boys, myself included, was compiled that would be partaking in the program. A hospital was selected that had staff who were in on the program, and the procedures began. The first phase was the removal of the penis and the starting of female hormones on the patients. This was done all together in one day a few days after agreement of the hospital had been made. Now let me tell you about how I found out.

One morning not so long ago I woke up, ready to go out and do my daily activities. There was no school again today as the staffing shortage in our area had forced the school to close for a few weeks. Hoorah, another holiday. The day was not a bad one, I did some of my usual stuff, saw some friends, etc. But that evening after dinner I noticed my parents were acting really strange. Then they called me into the living room, and I thought it a little odd because they sent my two sisters out of the room. I suddenly had a dreading feeling that they were going to talk to me about sex or something again. Were they that stupid? Anyways, I sat down wanting to get the conversation over with as soon as possible. First they outlined to me the facts about the current conscription crisis and what was going to happen to me with the military. I was shocked, there were rumours around that they would be conscribing kids my age but I didn't really believe it until now. Then they told me that if I went, I would be most likely not returning. My eyes kind of glazed over as I realized what they were telling me. I started to think of ways to get out of it when my dad said that they had found a way around it, but that the way around was a very difficult one that would be hard to accept. I thought initially that they were talking about removing me from the family, which I would find horrible but better than death at any rate. Then they began telling me about this lawyer who had found the way around, and about the group that they started. I felt a little insulted that they hadn't included me in all of this, I had no idea any of it was going on. Then, as they had finished telling me about the group, they became quiet and awkwardly looked at eachother. Then my mom started. She asked me, really nervously, what I would think of our family if there had been only girls born. Then they started to tell me about how wonderful girls have it in our country, and how many good things there are to being a girl. I hadn't the faintest idea what they were talking about. Then they started telling me the details of the plan that they had formed. The more they continued, the more glazed over my eyes became as I fell out of the conversation in shock as I realized what they were proposing. I did about a million takes of the situation before I could even start thinking again. Then I said no, absolutely no. There is no way. My dad became angry and said that there was no other way and that I was going to do it, end of discussion. I argued with him and he left the room. My mom started to talk to me, a little calmer, and after a while got me to listen to what she was saying. She started to get, well, a little scary. She was more serious than I have ever seen her. She told me about death, that I would die and that would be my life, ending at 14 in some stupid war. I wouldn't be remember as a hero or as courageous or anything, just that I died, and that would be it. I got a very, very cold feeling from that. She left me to think. Oddly enough, the cold feeling drove me to actually considering their plan. I found myself trying to find even the smallest of good in the plan. After a while I began finding quite a lot. Instead of going to some hellhole where people hell at me until I die a very painful death on some black field of death, I would get to stay home with my family and go to school and have friends and everything. After an hour and a half I came into the kitchen where I found my parents talking and told them that I would go ahead with it and that they should take it from there because I would most likely be changing my mind. Then they told me that there was no time to spare as the next day the surgery began. My mind was washed in a bucket of ice water at that statement, but using all of my effort I turned around and went to my bedroom and thought of everything BUT that. My parents came and tucked me in and told me that they were so overjoyed that I was okay with it. I wasn't okay with it, but I would stop arguing, at least I'd try to.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of my dad yelling at me to get up. I looked outside and it was still dark out. I grabbed my watch, the time was 4:36 AM. Ludicrously early. Oh well, get it over with and done. I quickly dressed as they had told me, all in clean clothes, and was ushered out the door to my dad in the car. We arrived at this big ugly hospital and parked way in the back. We quickly and quietly made our way to a back entrance. As we got closer, I saw some other guy about my age and his parents going for the same door. I instantly wanted to turn around and run, this was too embarrasing. But I just kept walking and didn't look in their direction. We went inside and it was very quiet. We took an elevator up and got off on the 32nd floor. It was dimly light, but there was a nurse waiting at the desk. We went up and my dad told her who I was. She showed us to a small waiting room and gave me a gown to change into. As I changed I looked at myself and realized that this was the last day I would be a boy. Without thinking about that again, I quickly made my way to the waiting room in the stupid gown and sat with my parents. For the next 20 minutes I sat there not talking because nobody else was, and I had to listen to my mom sob off and on. Finally the nurse came in and called my name. I was shaking visibly, but I went with her. My parents came too. She led me to a surgery room, which was still empty but had all the equipment on and ready. I layed on the table and my parents kissed me and told me all the yadda yadda stuff and then left. The nurse put an intravenous needle into my arm and I layed back, waiting. I was surpised at how calm I was, I thought I'd be vomiting and everything. I forced myself not to think about any of this until later. I drifted off into a half-sleep as the doctors came in. An hour later I woke up, groggy, to see my parents sitting beside me. It was a completely different room, and I was wearing a completely different gown. I sat up a bit and noticed that my crotch area was numb, and my legs were kind of numb too. My parents were glad to see that I was okay. I talked with them for a bit, and apparently I would be going home in and hour or two, depending on how well I was doing. We talked for a bit more before I nurse came in to check on the dressing. She changed it and said that I was doing great. She explained at how simple a procedure it was and that I would be fine, and that I could leave in about half an hour. She would come back to see how well I could walk, as soon as I could walk on my own I could leave. After uneasily eating some shitty food, and talking for a bit, the nurse came back in and I slid off the bed. Walking was a bit difficult considering half of my midsection was numb, but I managed okay. She checked a few things one last time then said I could go. I would have to wear the gown, though, as the dressings were too large for pants to fit comfortably. We made our way through the still somewhat empty hospital and back to the car. As we drove home I constantly forced myself to think of something other than the lack of a penis. When we got home I was ushered upstairs and to my room where I was to stay until the appointment in a few days with the doctor. That night I fell into an uneasy sleep and had to wake up several times during the night to pee through the cathoder. When I woke up the next morning, 10 AM to be more accurate, I felt a million times better. I was more affected by those drugs than I thought. Now I could feel a bit of pain in my crotch area. As I looked around the room I started to wake up a bit. I felt a tinge of the gotta-pee feeling, so I did the usual thing and pulled on my muscle to hold it back. I felt nothing. I pulled again and felt nothing again. Then I woke up fully with a start as I realized what that meant. Suddenly all of the emotion from the previous day and from the situation crashed down on my like a ton of bricks as I realized that I had no penis and that I was no longer a boy. I cried into my pillow for a while. My mom came in a bit later to wake me. She sat down beside the bed and talked to me for a bit, making me feel better. She told me that the difference between boys and girls was a lot less than I thought. I'd still do the things I liked doing, go the places I like going, only now I'd be able to do even more. She said that I had so many possiblities before me. I got out of bed and walked around a bit. I went in the cathoder again, only this time I could feel the process. It was weird, I could swear up and down that I felt the pee going through my penis even though it was coming through a small hole near my anus, or so I was told. After I was alone and had eaten some breakfast, I got a little curious. I knew I shouldn't have because it was all still to new and unreal to me, but I wanted to anyways. I couldn't stand looking, so I blindly guided my hand down and slowly moved my hand toward the area. I became increasingly nervous and excited as I got closer and closer and still felt nothing. Then, as I made impact on the place where I penis used to be, it was like touchdown on the moon. I almost threw up. After a few minutes I got the courage to do it again, only this time I moved my hand around the area a bit. The feeling was immense. Unbelievable. It was still quite soar, and I could feel the dull pull of the stitches, but nevertheless I could feel the absense of the penis as well. The rest of the day was spent resting. The next day I started the female hormone pills, which I would apparently have to take for the next year, although my current dosage would be downed considerably after the surgery in three monthes. Right now the dosage was very very high as my body needed to prepare for the female organs, or something. Whatever, it was all to wierd to thing about so I didn't.

I saw my sisters for the first time since the surgery the other day. I thought they'd treat me really wierd and stuff, but they were just curious about how I was and if it hurt. I said yes and yes, then proceded to watch TV. A few days later, I got into the car, again in my bath robe, and we went to the doctors. I was shown into a private room, and in a few minutes the doctor came. I got up onto the bed, and to my surprise and akward feeling he put my feet into the stirrups and spread my legs apart. He took off the dressing, which was surprisingly low on blood, and cleaned off the area. Then he took out the cathoder, which was, let me tell you, one of the most unpleasent of feelings. It felt REALLY wierd, as my mind constantly switched between feeling it in my non-existant penis and then back to the area that it really was in. After he did that he instructed me quickly on how to sit and pee, which was a little obvious, and that I had to keep it very clean. He also talked to me about the underwear that I would have to start wearing. It would be unhealthy for me to wear mens underwear, and a little inappropriate. I found it .. odd that he would say that it would be inappropriate for me to wear mens underwear. Then he said that I was healing up extremely quickly and that the stiches could come out in two days. He grabbed a mirror and asked if I wanted to see the area. I declined, saying that I would probably pass out if I did. I got dressed again and we went home, but not before stopping off while my mom ran in and bought a package of black plain panties. When we got home she wanted me to start wearing them now, but I told her I would after the stitches came out. I was left alone with that package. I knew what it represented. I knew. After a while curiousity got the best of me and I pulled out a pair to check them out. They were very soft, but shaped really wierd. I put them back and went to the computer to start surfing. After getting a little bored I started yearning to find out a bit about girls. Thus I started a personal research project that would lead to my eventual emotional healing from this whole mess. I started learning about all the cool women in history, about cool things that girls my age do, about important things that girls me age are into, and a ton of other information. That night the time came to do something I'd been dreading since the start. I was able to hold the urine now, thankfully, but it was difficult. I basically had to use the same muscle you use to push the penis down a bit. The one to pull it back up was gone, there was no motion when I tried to use that. Anyways I sat down unceremoniously on the toilet and made sure my aim was correct, then let go. It felt wierd, but it was done quickly (did all girls really pee like that? so strong? it was almost like a friggin cow). I wiped the area like I was told to do and went to bed. A couple days later I was back at the doctors office and I layed down on the bed. He froze the area and talked to me for a little while he removed the stitches. I plied the area around a bit afterwards and said that it would be a little sore for a bit but it had otherwise healed up. After he left, I opened the bag my mom had given me. Inside was a pair of my pants, a shirt, socks, shoes, and of course the dreaded pair of panties. Those had to go on first, of course. Well as I went to put them on I couldn't help but look at the area, which I had yet to see for obvious reasons. Quickly I looked down, grabbed a glance, then looked up again. What I had seen forced me to look down again. I almost screamed. I was a fucking chick. Okay, not a chick (yet), but it sure as hell looked like it down below. The area was still red and a bit swollen, but otherwise it looked like it was going to look, a small mound of flesh that was just there. I quickly put my panties on before I passed out, and looked at myself in them. They were SO comfortable, and fit extremely well despite what they looked like before (huge in the back and so small in the front? weird). As I put the rest of my clothes on I couldn't help but feel that big void down there. I knew it would feel wierd but this was wierder than anything I'd even gone through. I put my pants on and immediately noticed a difference. There was a noticable gathering of jean material in the area. I pushed it and immediately felt freaken wierd. Before I freaked out I got up and left. This was going to take some getting used to. I guess that dressing created a big padding space, because as I walked to the car I noticed a big difference. The lack of something there made me walk funny. When I sat down in the car it felt even wierder, but I never stopped feeling how comfortable those panties were. As the days moved on the wound healed completely and was now a skin-colored area at least. I even noticed a bit of pubic hair growing back. After repeatedly touching it, I now felt a bit more normal with it. Only a bit though. As I sat at the computer, etc, I would put my hands down there (it slid down with such ease!) and just have it there, moving it around a bit to remind me.

Then a couple days later curiousity got me again and I had to look at myself in the big mirror. I was going to go with a shirt on but decided to just do it naked. I took off everything and walked over to the mirror without looking. I kept counting to one but I would just chicked out. Finally as I was considering it again I forced my eyes open. I wasn't as shocked as I'd thought I would have been. In fact, I didn't notice much of a change. I looked like me, of course with the obvious missing part, but otherwise like me. I felt a little better, until I put my legs together and looked at just the crotch area. If I'd had a dick I would have gotten a boner. There looking back at me was what looked to me and probably any other man from the perspective, a chick. I got a sudden urge to undo it, quickly, but started to feeling panicky when I couldn't. I went and sat down and calmed down. I went to get dressed again but wanted another shirt. I went and grabbed one from the closet and threw it on. On my way back to the bed I passed the mirror. I saw something wierd. I stood infront of it again with the shirt on, and it just looked so wierd. I felt curiously excited to know that this shirt now covered up all of my genetalia (or would be genetalia). No matter how I jumped around or walked or spread my legs or squatted even, the shirt covered it all. Nothing hanging down. Nothing. I got dressed and went to get something to eat from downstairs.

It felt so wierd to pee. No kidding it felt wierd. As I sat there, thinking, I realized just how much even this was going to impact my life. I thought back to all the times I stood to pee. When we were camping, in the bathroom, out behind the car when we were on the road. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I would never stand to go to the bathroom again. Never. Standing had come to an end for me. Now whenever I had to take even a quick leak, I had to undo my pants, take them all the way down, and sit. I even had to wipe to make sure it was clean. Every time. So much for quickly standing there for a couple of seconds, it would now take me at least a minute to take a quickest leak.

I noticed as well that when I take a leak I can keep my legs completely together and it doesn't affect it at all. In fact it feels a lot more comfortable. It saddened me that I was no longer going to be ever able to stand and pee again. Sure, I could, but it would just leak all over and make a mess. I felt an odd surge of emotion when I realized that no matter how much I struggled I could never change that. Ever. As well, I thought of urinals. They were no longer applicable to me either. I couldn't, no matter how much I wanted to, use one normally again.

We were at the theatre when it happened. I was so engrossed by the movie I wasn't even remotely thinking of recent events. I had to go so I got up during a boring part and rushed over to the bathroom. There were a few guys in there but it was otherwise empty. I went over to the urinal as usual, thinking of a character in the movie. I undid my pants quickly and grabbed at empty air. Then, as though I had jumped into an ice lake, I came to the realization that there was nothing there for me to grab. I stood there for a second before deciding that I should just use the toilet. I did my button up and went over to one of the stalls. I took down my pants and then slid down the panties, which felt like silk, and sat down. I just let it go and went, and it gushed out (if girls piss this fast then why do they spend so much time in the bathroom all the time?). I quickly grabbed a bit of toilet paper and reached between my legs and whiped the area a bit. I realized that prior to this, I wouldn't have been able to easily get my hand and arm into that area, but now it was no problem at all. Such a change for one to go through. I stood back up and pulled up my panties and then my pants. Was it always going to be this much of a pain just to take a leak? I would have been out of here minutes ago usually. As I returned to my seat I thought about the stark reality that I would soon be one of those girls that takes too long in the bathroom, and someone else, a guy (unlike me who is no longer a guy really and who soon wouldn't be at all (in any way) a guy) who thought about ME taking too long in the bathroom. Let's see him get in there and do what I just did faster than I did (well, and not make a mess anyways).

I was sitting around looking around my computer and feeling a little bored. It was late and I had nothing better to do. I found an old collection of some pictures, and I opened one of them. It was a pic of a bunch of chicks making a pyramid of chicks on their hands and knees, showing their butts and vaginas (I found that the term pussy(ies) was really no longer good for me to use because I would soon have one and well, pussy sounds like a guy term anyways). I sat there, looking at this picture that once aroused me so much I could wack off to it, and felt nothing. I suddenly noticed the imperfections and details of the image. I felt so wierd to notice that I could no longer feel aroused anymore. That would change soon, of course, but for now ... yuck. I stared at thier bared lips for a while. Thinking about what I would look like soon. I knew already that my butt hair had fallen out a while back after starting the hormone treatment, fallen out along with the rest of my body hair. I wondered how close I looked now. I grabbed my digital camera and set it up, then got undressed completely and struck the same pose those chicks had. The camera took a few pics. I sat down again (why bother redressing) and took a look at the pics. The first thing I noticed was the larger than I thought breasts. I guess when hanging down like that my budding breasts looked larger than they really are. With the exception of the missing lips, I really did look a lot like them. My hips were getting there, my breasts weren't as big as theirs but then they had a lot to grow, and my ass was starting to look a lot like a girls. I marvelled at the quick rate and apparent ease at which I was becoming a woman.

I was out camping with some friends and we had gone for a hike. It was getting late so we were starting to head back to the site. We were about an hour from any sort of civilization, including a toilet. And I had to go. Bad. I realized that no matter what I couldn't hold it any longer. Along the hike a few of the other guys had gone off into the bush a bit for a second to take a leak, so the rest waited. I had no idea what I was going to do, so I just said "I gotta take a leak" and went off into the bush. I made sure I was far from them before I found a spot that was well hidden. I could hear them saying stuff like "c'mon man, you don't have to go that far" etc but I did anyways. I quickly undid my pants, whipped them and my panties down to halfway, then grabbed ahold of a tree and squatted down until my butt was just a little above the ground. Making sure I could hear them all where they were I let go and could hear it hitting the ground. This was such a fucking pain. I didn't know if I could hold myself like this any longer. While I was going I noticed the trail of urine was coming ever closer to my pants that were down at my feet. Hanging onto the tree with one hand, I lifted my pants with the other so the urine stream would channel through my shoes and miss the pants. This was such a fucking pain. Finally I was done, and I shook a bit (which did nothing) and then whipped up my pants again. I rejoined them to the 'Finally!'s but was otherwise fine. Whew. I spent the rest of the hike hoping that something like that didn't happen again and feeling sorry for myself at how I was never going to be like them again. Oh well they were all going off to war soon, and as far as they knew so was I, except for one of them which I suspected might be going through the same thing I was but I didn't want to ask him for fear of being found out myself. The camping trip went well otherwise. This whole thing was getting just too wierd for me.

I'll skip a couple weeks now. Basically I just got back into a bit of a routine and was feeling a little better with things. After a day of hunting around for a good magazine at some shops I came home and went upstairs to get changed and surf the internet for a bit. As I was putting on a new shirt, I accidently hit my chest with my hand. It hurt. It really hurt. I looked down and noticed that my chest looked a bit different. It'd been such a busy day that I wasn't really thinking straight. I looked down and saw that I was gaining some weight in the chest, but it wasn't muscle it looked more like fat. I was always a very skinny, rail-thin and lanky kind of guy, so I checked around the rest of my body, but found no signifigant weight gain. As I was thinking about the reasons for getting fat that hurt on my chest, I was suddenly slapped in the face with the answer. The hormones. This wasn't fat. I sat down instead of falling which is what I felt like doing. These were fucking breasts. Boobs. Me. I had boobs. After mulling it over a bit, I calmed down and decided to go to the mirror. I noticed two things instantly. First, there was a bit of a buildup of tissue in the area, so these were definitely the beginnings of breasts. And secondly, possibly more shocking than the breasts, were my nipples. They had grown, a fair amount too. I was getting more and more depressed about these changes, and this didn't help.

A couple of weeks later my breasts had grown signifigantly. And my nipples were getting very big and very tender. Actually, my shirt started to hurt. So, I waiting for a quiet time and pulled my mom aside. She was shocked to find out that I had developed so soon but was nice about it. She told me that I would have to wear a bra now and that the time was coming soon when I would no longer be able to go outside and look like a boy anymore. I was getting tired of being in a shocked din, but I was in one now. Acknowledging her statement about getting a bra tomorrow or something, I made my way back upstairs and sat there thinking about that statement. At times I would try to ignore it and play games. At others I thought about it extensively. Finally I had reached a conclusion. There was no way around this, I was turning into a girl, and part of that meant that soon I would have to make the switch from boy to girl. As well, I had to find out what kind of girl I was going to be. The next day I did the most embarassing thing I'd ever done, I went bra shopping with my mom. Now I hadn't intended to wear any kind of clothes that day, just whatever I found. However, it just so happened that I picked some rather neutral clothes, and a decidedly tight-ish white tshirt. As we were looking around, a saleswoman approached us. My mom was busy looking at something, and I was just looking around. Suddenly I heard a voice from behind me.

"Miss, is there something I can help you with?" I turned around to see a middle-aged saleswoman looking at me. I thought that she was talking to my mom until I saw that she was addressing me. I shook my head, not knowing what else to do, and apparently she took my lack of words to mean that I was embarrassed about the bra shopping and left. I just stood there, once again in shock. Did I really look like a girl? Already? I left to go to the bathroom to check out myself in the mirror, but when I arrived I had a sudden thought. If she saw me as a girl, would others as well? Therefore, which bathroom should I use? I decided to change the guys, as I didn't want to get caught in the girls. It was empty anyways, so I walked over to one of the mirrors and took a look at myself. I didn't notice any big change, and my breasts barely showed. As I was looking at myself in the mirror, I put my hand under the tiny breasts and stood sideways as I pushed them up a bit. As I was doing this, two guys walked in on me. They both stopped talking and looked over at me. I immediately stopped what I was doing. Then one said "Oh, excuse me ... um, but, you know this is the mens right?"

I felt myself blush like never before, my whole face was on fire, and I nearly ran past them and through the door. I went back to find my mom, and I told her what happened. That night we sat down and had a talk about my imminent changeover. Thanks mostly to the hormones that I was on, I had started to feel these odd urges to do girly things once in a while. I usually just surpressed them. We decided that we'd talk about it later as we were all busy. I went to my room and looked at myself in the mirror again. Once again I didn't notice all that much of a difference. Then I had an idea. I rummaged through my stuff until I found a picture of my from before the surgery. I went and stood infront of the mirror again and compared. I was blown again. FUCK was there a difference. My light blonde hair, which I had been growing out since the surgery, was a lot longer than I had thought and tucking it behind my ears, which had become habit, was not helping. My face had more fat on it, but not the unhealthy kind of fat. It had changed shape somewhat. As well, my hips had grown decidedly outward, in fact that was the most noticable part. I also noticed, to my surprise, that I was standing with my legs together. When had that happened? Now, when I looked at myself in the mirror, at just a glance or two I really couldn't tell which sex I was. If I looked at the small breasts, enhanced by the tight-ish tshirt, and the hair which was decidedly neutral leaning towards girly, and the hips, I looked like a tomboy type girl. It was the wierdest feeling in the world, but I actually started to feel a little bit proud. I kind of thought I looked a bit pretty. Yea, like I said, wierd. Anyways, with the bra and making sure that I wore only guyish clothes, I was able to pull off looking like a guy for another week or two. However, the date for my cosmetic surgery was fast approaching. So, for the next two weeks I went about as a guy in public but started to train to do girly things at home. About a week before the surgery I wanted to do something. My mom and I had been going to various stores for the past little while collecting a base of girls clothes for me. They were from various different types of styles because I was still unsure which I liked (none to tell the truth, I don't want to be a girl). But on this day, a Sunday, everyone had stuff to do except me, so I was left at home bored. I suddenly had this wierd urge to go check out the clothes I had. It sort of felt like I had a stack of computer stuff upstairs that I hadn't even tried out yet. As I moved upstairs I because wondering about this person who was immerging from me. She was kind of cool. After searching through all the stuff I had, I finally put together an outfit that I thought looked good. It was good looking, went together well, and was definitely a girls clothing set. I had a pair of white jeans, a shirt (more of a blouse really) that was white with a picture of some chick band on it, and a pair of girls sneakers. I started with the shirt, which fit well, and then moved to the jeans and then the shoes. This type of shirt ended above my waist a bit, leaving a bit of my belly button showing. I didn't like dressing like this, it felt funny and unnatural. But I wanted to see how I looked. I walked over to the mirror and played the little counting game again. When I finally opened my eyes I started crying. Tears swelled up in my eyes and I began sobbing. There, standing before me, was an average looking teenaged girl. She had nice rounded hips, slim girly shoulders, and breasts that were a bit small but nonetheless there. I was fucking hot. That's what made me cry (I guess, stupid girl emotions). I fucking LOVED the way I looked. I'd ask me out anytime.

I sat down on my bed and cried for a while longer, this time a decided less happy cry. I realized that no matter how much I tried, I could never get that boy I used to be back in the mirror. I felt as though I had died somehow. That the person in the mirror wasn't me. Heck, for a second I started thinking if I looked good enough to be standing infront of this chick. That's what started it. After laying there thinking for a while, staring up into the ceiling, I got up. I decided that I wasn't going to be sad because of this. I wanted to enjoy it. It was like taking a second stab at life. Sure, it was sad to realize that, one way or another, the person I used to be had died and was to be no more, but I made myself feel better by deciding that I'd rather have died this way than to have actually died. At least this way I get a second chance at life. There were a million people a day out there that couldn't say that.

I put the clothes back and got back into my neutral clothes again. I took a quick look in the mirror and was surprised to see that I still actually looked pretty girly. It'd actually be a bit of an effort to pass as a boy now. When the day for the surgery came, we went to another hospital and were able to do this one without so much secrecy. The doctor came in to us and explained to me what would be going on. He said that they would be reshaping my jaw bone, redistributing the fat around my face a bit, shaving my vocal chords, and doing some minor work elsewhere. He said that since my breast development was going so well, I wouldn't need breast implants. The surgery took all day, and I woke up a full 36 hours afterwards (well, fully woke up anyways). My parents talked to me for a while, through all that gause, and told me that I had a long road to recovery but when I was done it would be worth it. When we were alone they talked to me at great length about my current situation. We had talked about it before but I guess they wanted to prepare me. I was now considered female on most medical charts, that was part of the plan. As well, my name was now officially changed (although they had started calling me by my new name a while ago). I was now Sarah Helen Roshenko (Sarah from my mom's middle name and Helen from my great grandmother). As well, I was to wear girls clothes on a full time basis now. With the exception of the two tshirts and one pair of pants that we had previously agreed on, all of my other clothes are gone (burned up,actually, to lessen available evidence). A few days later I was able to go home. My face was still very sore and bandaged up, and my stomache area where they had done some liposuction was a bit sore too. I had to eat through a straw for two weeks while my jaw healed. Finally I was able to remove the bandages. We went to the doctors again and he removed them, checked out my face a bit, and said that things had gone remarkably well. When my mom saw me she nearly shreiked and was very shocked. She calmed down a bit after the doctor explained that the brusing would go away soon enough and the swelling was going down too. Then he asked me if I wanted to look in a mirror. I hesitated but then said yes to get it over with. He handed the mirror and I uncerimoniously looked right into it. I was shocked to see the bruising and swelling, I looked like I got into one hell of a fight. But that wasn't what I was surprised at. At first I thought I looked all freakish, but then I started to remember how I looked at myself in the mirror the first time, with the picture. I had looked at myself like I was looking at a girl. I began to cry again. My mom held me for a bit. I was really pretty. I had a cute face and I just really looked nice. I cleaned myself up a bit, and then made the dreaded trip to the car. As I looked around a bit I could see the other people look at me. I knew they thought I had gotten beaten up or something. Oh well. When we got home I went to my room and stayed there for a while, crying off and on partly because of the hormones and mostly because of the changes I was going through. It seems that all that holding back and hiding myself from the truth that I had done since the surgery had worked then but was all coming down on me right now. My mind wanted to ignore the facts that I was telling it, but I wouldn't let it. I made myself fully concieve the works that I was speaking. I was a girl. I looked like a girl, I walked like a girl, I wore girls clothes, had boobs, wore a bra and panties, and wouldn't ever go back to wearing anything else. Why would I wear boys clothes? I'm not a boy. I don't cross-dress. I went to bed only to get a restless, nightmare filled sleep.

As time continued my breasts filled out and stopped at a small B-cup size, which looked good with the rest of my body. I was happy (about breasts? am I nuts? no, I'm a girl now. girls like to have breasts). My face healed up faster than I thought it would, and I noted along with everyone else that I looked like a young Jessica Alba with blond hair. There was barely a trace of my former self, only the eyes really, and the hairline. I became more and more used to my body as time went on. As well, I had an unexpected bonus. I was growing more and more close to my sisters. We went and did things together, and I was starting to really enjoy some of the things that they did, like go clothes shopping, and go see 'girly' movies. I was really happy about that. I had always feared that I would be rejected by my family, but instead I was growing closer to them. The second time we went out, to go get a few clothes for my sister, I had to go to the bathroom. And I couldn't hold it. So I went over to the bathrooms near the clothes shop, I thought they would be mostly empty. And they were, for the most part. I didn't want to stand outside the doors looking like a moron, so I did my thinking on the way there. I had to go into the girls. I looked like a girl. There was no question of that. Even under close inspection I still looked like a girl with my clothes on. I even had begun wearing a small amount of perfume my mom bought me to smell like a girl. So why was I so nervous about going into the bathroom? When I got there, I just opened the door, and went in. I felt like I was walking on the moon for the first time, only this time the moon had delicate crystal for the floor. I walked in, and the first thing I noticed was some lady standing at the mirror doing something with her makeup. I glanced at her then quickly forced myself to look away. I moved over to one of the stalls and went in, then shut the door. The woman had glanced at me once then quickly looked away. She thought I was a girl. No, wait, I have to stop myself from thinking like that. I am a girl. She KNEW I was a girl, from the way I looked. I undid my pants and sat down. I had become accustomed to this sitting and peeing thing, even though I swear it still felt wierd. When I was done I quickly wiped then got my pants back on. My shirt was the short kind showing my belly button (I quite liked that type, and it only made the girl appearance a lot more convincing). I opened the stall and went to go to one of the sinks to wash. Two other women had come in and one little girl. The little girl was washing her hands and the two other women were just standing there talking. I moved over to one of the sinks and started to delicately wash my hands. This was the most obscure moment in my life to this point. Here I was, surrounded by girls in a girls-only area, and they were fully accepting me as one of their own. I finished washing and again delicately and as lady-like as I could muster dryed my hands. Then I just got the hell out of there, it was WAY too wierd. I went and met my sisters in the food court, and went to order my food. I was glad that my voice had turned out so well. I was coming to like it quite a bit. It was soft, but had a definite undercurrent that was female all the way. I was afraid that it would turn out to just be a soft man's voice, but it didn't. I sounded like I had spoken with that voice my whole life. I ordered a small sub and diet drink (I was making a concious effort to eat like a girl now) and went and sat down. Even sitting down in public had changed for me. When I sat down I forced to do like I had learned, sort of glide down instead of just plunking. It was all coming more and more natural to me as the hormones did their job, but still, it felt wierd to have to change the way you sit down in public.

Then the call came. Someone had gotten sick on the list and I had been bumped up. To next week. We hurredly got what we needed ready, including confirming the place to go. It was some small hosipital in a small town outside the city. I was blown away. I thought that I would have plenty of time before the major surgery. The week went very quickly, with arrangements being made for a place for me to stay with nurses (the top floor of a nursing home), who would go with me, etc. It was decided that my dad would accompany me throughout the surgery, as he had some time off work and my mom couldn't get any. The drive down there was the hardest part. I was scared, but I could tell he was too. We finally got there, and were ushered right in. I was put into a room right away. I changed into a hospital gown and got into the bed as the doctor administered anisthestics. I was almost shaking with fear, but my dad came to wait and talk with me. He tried to distract me, but I knew how big this surgery was. It would take a very long time to fully recover and there was a chance I could even die during surgery. As they came to take me to the surgery room, my dad said that he'd be watching from the theater and kissed me goodbye. As they wheeled me down the hall, I felt like an astronaught being led to the spaceshuttle before a dangerous flight. By the time they got me into the bed and had the sheet rigged so I couldn't see anything, my body felt numb and very warm all over. I started to drift off as I could hear them marking off areas and discussing things. It'd an odd feeling to hear a shaving sound and knowing that it's your own pubic hair even though you can't feel it. I drifted off thinking about the life ahead of me, of kids and career, whether I would actually consider dating guys or just stick with girls, or what.

A few seconds later I opened my eyes and found myself in another room again. I felt ill, had a headache and was woozy. I tried to look around a bit but found it hard to move my head. I fell back asleep. This happened several times over the next couple of days. Finally I started waking up coherent and could stay away for more than an hour. I can remember my dad being with me for most of it, but my mom and sisters came to visit on the third day. They all told me that everything went fine, even though it was a very big procedure. I still couldn't feel anything below, and that's good because I was all hooked up to drains and whatnot. A few days later the doctor came in and explained to me what they did. Since the very first operation they had started cloning all of the female parts that I would need for the procedure. They opened me up and removed all the remaining male organs, and then set to work installing all of the female parts. The vagina and uterus went in first, then the fallopian tubs and everything else. All in all, it went well, and I'm showing no sign of rejection which is very good. As far as they could tell, I was going to be able to have children, and live a normal life. I nervously said thanks and he left. Have children? But I'm a boy, boys don't have kids. No I'm a girl, that kind of stuff isn't going to be tolerated anymore. Over the next week I had my dressings changed frequently, and I even got up into a wheelchair once and got to move around a bit. Finally I was able to go home. We had to do it at night, 3 AM, so I was sleepy while we were doing it. Despite the drugs, it hurt like hell. Finally I got home, to find that they had setup a nice bed for me. I fell fast asleep. Over the next few days I regained more and more freedom. Feeling came back to the entire area, and there was almost no pain compared to what I used to endure. My vagina was still too swolen to see, and I still had to pee through a cathoder (I forgot how much I hated that). A couple days later I went to the doctors again to get a checkup. He looked me over very thoroughly and said that everything looks to be great, which was a great releif to me. He removed most of the stiches but said that some still had some healing to do. But he did grant me one wish. My vagina was healed enough to go without dressings, so I could take out the cathoder. yay. He went over with me again in detail about the various cleaning duties I was now signed up for life for with my vagina. If I didn't keep it clean, infection could set in, and I had a chance of dying. I took heed of his warnings. As we were getting ready to leave, he reminded me that my vagina still had a lot of stuff to expell, so I would have to wear pads until the discharge slowed down a bit. He also told me that I wouldn't start my period for another month or two because my hormonal levels needed to even out. When I got home I had to go pee. The area was still a little numb, so it was difficult to say the least. The peehole was in a different area now (yea, like I said, WIERD), so maneuveuring was a little akward but I managed to do it just fine. With a little effort and a little blood, I managed to pee for the first time using my new parts! yay again. My mom gave me a box of pads and said that I had to change it every few hours at first. She wanted to show me how to put it on but I pushed her out, I could read the box just fine. After unsuccessful pad #2, I accepted help and she quickly showed me how to do it. I didn't like it. As surprising as it may seem, I didn't like the feeling of something there, bulky. It was in the way. This coming from a person who spent 14 years of his .. er, her ... well whatever, their life with a penis. hah. Yea I surprise myself on a daily basis with some of the girly shit I do and think.

Over the next couple of weeks I started to get a LOT better. I was able to hold down normal food again, the stitches came out and the swelling went down to almost none. And the big red scarrs were starting to disappear. I was having trouble getting used to everyone calling my Sarah, but it was important to maintain an environment of normality for me. I had the concept of me actually being a full-fledged girl now rolling around in my head for weeks. Now that there was no turning back anymore, I forced myself to give up what little hope I had left of ditching this whole girl thing and start enjoying myself. For the first time in months I started to actually have fun. Then the day came.

We were lounging about after supper on a Tuesday evening. Me and my sisters were playing cards, and dad and mom were watching tv. It was pretty quiet. Then we heard a loud knocking on the door. My dad got up to get it. Somehow I knew what it was. I quickly did a check of myself: I was wearing my blue, red, and white corderoy coveralls, a nice white blouse, and I was even wearing a bit of makeup (okay so I had started trying makeup, I'm a girl, what do you want). I went and stood behind the wall near the door. I could hear the conversation. There were two military men at the door, both of them seemed angered about something. They demanded to be let in, so my dad let them in. They said that they had a notice of non-appearance for one Jake Roshenko (my former name). They asked if we hadn't received the notice of conscription. My dad said that we had but that he had sent it back as return to sender because they had no Jake Roshenko here. One of the men opened his holocomputer and pulled up a record of something. He said that is stated there that there was a one Jake Roshenko here, and that he was one of the three children of my parents. My dad feined ignorance and said that there must be something wrong, we only have daughters, no sons. They seemed a little confused, so they pulled up my old record again and asked if they had a child born at this date. My dad said yes, but that that child wasn't a boy, it was a girl, his daughter Sarah. They demanded to see this child. My dad called for me. I felt like I was going to throw up. What if something went wrong, what if they could tell somehow, what if this was all for nothing? As I sheepishly walked over to them, they looked surprised at me and then looked back at their records. After consulting with eachother for a second, they decided to call it in. One of them pulled out a radio and began talking to central. After a while he seemed to change in demeanor. He put the radio back and explained to my dad that there seemed to be some sort of records mixup, and that his daughter Sarah had been verified by central records. They apologized for the intrusion and left. I sat on the floor shaking. I was relieved beyond belief. So was everyone else, apparently. Looks like the group had gotten the records through, thankfully. As I lay in bed that night, curled up under my Hello Kitty blankets and looking around at my punk girl band posters, makeup display case, and other girly stuff in my room that I quite liked thank you very much, I thought about my life. I realized that I had been putting off thinking about my future because I was always waiting for the military to catch up with me. But what do I do now? I have so much ahead of me! The option of going back to being a boy was completely out of the question, because among other things I didn't want anymore surgery. Ever. So, that left me with the rest of my life as a girl, which to be quite honest I really could live with. I thought about maybe going into the biology field somewhere. Who knows really. I fell asleep thinking about what I was going to do now about relationships. I didn't want to get together with a boy, I'm not gay (not that that would be gay). So that left lesbian, finding some chick who would like to sleep with me and form a relationship. It seemed a little shakey, but what could I do? Sleep. Yes, sleep sounds good. Oops, I left my makeup on. Oh well ......

A year goes by with not much happening .....

I had done this before, only it was just a wee bit different. You see I had been a member of the opposite sex. Okay, I could adapt. I guess finding a mate as a lesbian was harder than I thought, because when we had finally met and agreed that we liked eachother, Melissa wanted to 'rent a room'. Okay, fine, so after our second date we went down to a local motel and got a shitty little room (but with a nice big bed). I had only had sex twice before with a girl, so I wasn't exactly 007 with women but I knew a bit of the basics. Melissa went into the bathroom (I now know what they do in there, btw. And why. Take a leak (do you realize how many times we (chicks) take leaks? it's crazy) and to get 'prettied up'. What was even wierder was that I knew exactly how to 'pretty up' and had just done it before I went out for the date. For lack of better things to do I sat down on the bed a bit nervously. I had worn my black spandex shirt that was too short, and a pair of army pants with my big-buckle belt. I looked good (and Melissa thought so too!). As she got ready I realized that I wouldn't really know what I would do with her. I no longer had a penis to fuck her with, so that left oral and fingers I guess. She came out (as a guy I definitely would have thought she looked exactly the same, but now I knew ... she had touched up her makeup and was wearing her shirt a little more open at the top and her hair was neater). She smiled that wicked smile that I was beginning to like at sat down beside me. I guess I looked a little more nervous than I thought because she started making me feel a little better (girls can be so nice to eachother). She layed down with her head propped up on her elbow and I layed down infront of her and we started kissing. I was ready to take the agressive male part (as usual) but she started to do that, so I realized that I would have to improvise and take the girly part. Okay, that's fine, it'll be fun. We started stroking eachother as we kissed, more and more hungrily. Felt kind of good to have someone fondle your breasts and you fondle theirs. I could feel myself getting wet and ready for sex. We started to get a little more serious about it, going a little faster and closer together. Then she got ontop of me as I layed on my back, and she acted like the guy sort of kissing me as she started to undo my pants. She slowly slid her hand down ontop of my panties and felt my warm lips. She came back up with a moist hand and licked her fingers, smiling. Okay, so this was wierd, I used to do that. She put her hand under my shirt and slowly took it off. Then I did the same to her, except it took a bit longer cause her blouse had buttons, etc. Then I did the most obscure thing I could possibly imagine myself doing. I reached around and started to undo her bra, AS SHE STARTED TO UNDO MINE! This was getting more and more wierd as time went on. Here I was, undoing a girls bra during sex, and I had to finangle myself around a bit to give her better access to MY bra, so that she could undo it. Finally the bras were out of the way (she took a lot longer than I did, I guess she has less experience than I do at this angle heheh). Then, as we kissed eachother, she started fondling my nipples, and I could feel myself becoming more and more warm, more and more excited. As she was kissing me, I realized the oddest thing. We were having to position ourselves so that our breasts didn't get in the way of the kissing. OUR breasts. Hahah that was too wierd. Anyways, she started in on the sucking of the nipples. She slowly moved her tounge down my chest and up onto my right breast. Then she slowly circled the nipple with her tongue. This was driving me CRAZY! I never realized how this pleasured the girl so much! Soon she started with the other nipple, as I started to fondle her nipples. We layed down on the side to get better access to eachother. Then I went ontop and started on her nipples real good while she slowly undid my pants and began to slide them off. I did the same to hers, and now we were naked except for the panties. I put my hand down slowly to her pussy, and felt that her lips were very wet and warm. I did the same licking thing, and she giggled. Then we started to get a bit more serious. I layed back down and she started kissing and licking her way down my belly. She slowly and sensously grabbed my panties and slid them off, throwing them across the room. Then she spread my legs (a new part to this whole thing) and started to lick the pads of skin (usually hair but I shaved) beside the lips. Then she moved her mouth over my lips, and I could feel her soft warm breathe over my vagina and it felt soo good. I felt that I was ready to cum soon. She slowly but surely started to lick my lips, making the odd Mmmm sounds now and then. Then, involuntarily, I started quietly moaning as she began to slide her tongue inside my vagina. Then, slowly, she moved her mouth up to my clit and she started to slid her fingers in and out of my vagina. She started kissing my clit area, which was driving me crazy! Slowly but surely she started going faster and faster, now with two and three fingers inside and she started licking my clit with less and less of the hood on it. I felt my clit engourge to the max as I started to rub and massage my nipples. I could feel myself getting closer to climax. As she moved the hood of skin fully aside and started licking my clit directly, I began going into climax. I lightly grabbed the back of her head and pulled her towards me as I moaned loudly and felt myself move from this life into the paradise abyss of orgasmic pleasure. My whole body shook with pleasure and I could hear myself moaning loudly. Finally it was over and I slowed down. She moved her face up my belly again until she got to the tits, then she layed down and I started. I kissed her for a little while I rubbed her nipples. Her face had some of my 'cum' on it, so I started licking it off. It had the same sweet salty taste to it, but now it came out of me! This was all too wierd but I didn't care, I loved this way too much. As I moved down her body, I could feel her body getting ready. I did pretty much the same thing she did, slowly then going more and more fast, but I found it a bit of a challenge getting that hood off of her clit. Once I did though, she orgasmed almost immediately. I was shocked when she squirted all over my face. I had to take one of my hands and wipe my eyes free. I decided to go for it again and one she slowed down I went back to licking her pussy then started going faster and faster again and again until she started climaxing again. This time she didn't squirt much but gasped for air and moaned with pleasure. I loved the way they (I guess me is one of they now heheh) did that when they orgasmed. After I finished she layed me down and licked my face cleaned while she rubbed my nipples a bit. Then she said 'hang on' and went over to her bag. She pulled out a thing that surprised me the most that night. It was a strap-on dildo. Okay, that was wierd. It had a vibrating cock-shaped dildo and a nub-shaped vibrator on the other side for the wearer. I was really unsure about using it, as it had been a long time since I had a cock. But to my surprise she started putting it on. This wasn't what I signed up for, but I reasoned that it was only a dildo, and she was a girl. She layed down beside me, and with that wicked smile turned it on. It started buzzing, and I let out a laugh, but we continued. The first time she went on top, and it was pretty much the same until she spread my legs and started to rub the end of the dildo on my lips. Then she started to put it inside a bit. It felt wonderful. Finally I was ready for her to put it in all the way, and she started moving it in and out while she kissed me and rubbed my nipples. The vibrator felt so good that I would have climaxed on that alone, but the moving in and out of the dildo helped all that much more. I felt a little unsettled when I opened my eyes and saw her doing kind of like a guy, moving it in and out, but I felt better when I started licking one of her breasts. Then my head felt to the pillow as I started to climax again. She went faster and faster with that thing until I was nearly screaming with pleasure. As I came I could hear her climaxing too, I guess that vibrator was doing it's job. It felt so good to have both of us cum at the same time, holding eachother. When it was done she took it off and layed down as I screwed around with it until I got it right, with the vibrator sitting on top of my lips just touching my clit. This I knew how to do. Starting with the usual kissing, I moved it up and down her lips until she was ready, then started. I realized how much this little vibrator could do, as I began climaxing even before she did. It was hard to keep the motions up while I was climaxing, contrary to when I was a guy when that's what I naturally did, because now the climax I had as a girl wanted all of my muscled to squeeze at once in pleasure. We both came though. Then she had a wicked idea. She put the dildo on, and then had me stand on my hands and knees on the floor. Then she stood behind me, and we started to do it doggy style. Yes, I was getting it in the cunt doggy style. Well I never would have thought I'd be doing this, but here I was, getting fucked by a girl while I was a girl. Doggy style. It was awsome. After a while of doing this, we layed back down again and kissed for a while until she fell asleep. I looked at her in the dim light, so beatiful, so soft and pink. Then I looked at myself. I had the same beauty, the same softness and pinkish skin. I was the same as her. I didn't know whether to like that or hate it, but my first reaction was confusion. I liked her, heck I liked her a LOT. But this was my first relationship after the surgery, so I didn't know how to think. I thought about the possibility of it not being right for me to like her, about the reactions we would get in the street. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But I liked her so much. I liked her body, her mind, and of course, I loved the sex. It was good sex. Well, not that I've had any other sex as a girl to compare this with, but it's the best sex I've ever had period, better than the sex as a guy. I got up and went to the bathroom. As I showered, making good sure to clean myself well in the crotch, I thought of us. How far would this go? Would it be based entirely on the sex, or would something develop between us as well. What would my parents say if they found out? I was going to put on some panties but I decided not to. I went back to the bed nudged her until she woke up. I smiled and told her that it was her turn. She sat up, kissed me, then slowly made her way to the bathroom. Once she was in there I took off the sheet and put a clean one on, then layed down under the covers. I fell asleep a bit when I noticed that she came back and got in beside me. We held eachother, naked, as we slept. I was happier than I had been since even way before the surgery. This was nice. The next morning she had somewhere to be so she kissed me and went to get ready. I woke up again as she left, saying goodbye and that I was to call her tonight. After a while I got up too, and noticed that she left a note for me. I sat up, and grabbed the covers, suddenly embarrassed about my nakedness now that it was daylight outside. I ready the note. She had put some perfume on it, what a girly thing to do I thought as I started reading it. She wanted to tell me how much she liked me, and that she definitely wanted to see more of me. She also said that she hadn't had sex like that in a long time. It ended in XOXOXO's with a pink gel-pen heart. As a guy, I would have shrugged that kind of thing off and threw it in my pocket until it cycled itself into the garbage, but now I realized how special it was. I got dressed and checked out, then went to get something to eat. I wished she were still here so we could go together, but oh well.

The next day we went out to get some things at the mall. I was waiting for her at the bookstore, so I grabbed some book and started reading it a bit. Then someone said 'Hey' in a 'I could live with you my whole life' kind of way and I recognized the voice. I turned to see that Melissa was wearing a completely different outfit. She had sparkle makeup on (it looked pretty good, too) and was wearing a jean outfit. She smelled nice too. I told her how much I liked her outfit, and from her reaction I could tell that she probably had bought it to wear it around me. As we walked around looking at stuff and talking, I could already tell that this relationship was going to be different than that of a guy and a girl, but that it was (and already did) going to have it's own good things about it. Like the fact that we both understood eachothers needs. I didn't know if she was ready to be seen with me holding hands, so when we were alone I softly grasped her hand and gauged her reaction. She smiled and looked at me with that 'yea, I'm okay with that' look. You see, now that I'm a girl, it's like I suddenly gained the ability to decode these highly encrypted messages that girls constantly send out to their guys. I also gained the ability to send them out myself. Odd. So we went down the hall, holding hands and looking at stuff. I saw a few shocked reactions but otherwise we were fine.

As the days turned to weeks, I saw more and more of Melissa. We celebrated our first month anniversary by going on a river cruise. We both dressed in elegant black dresses and wore our most sophisticated-looking shoes we could find. It was great, we had dinner and then after the cruise we went back to that same motel and tried to beat the record-setting sex we had that first night. We beat it by two orgasms and a lot more moaning. I got to know Melissa better and better, and we became sort of girlfriend and girlfriend. Then we started talking about meeting the families. I explained that my family didn't know yet, so we went to see hers first. I was nervous that they wouldn't accept me, but they were nothing but nice. They almost treated me like one of the family. I had a great time. But then the time came for me to tell me family. As I planned out how I would let them know, I remember back to almost two years ago when they dropped that bombshell on me. Well now I was returning the favour. Although I think they suspected something like this with me, so I didn't think it was going to be much of a surprise. I waiting until my sisters were busy elsewhere and my mom and dad were sitting in the kitchen doing bills. I came in and sat down beside them, and said that I had something to tell them. I explained my feelings about going out with guys, and that I didn't feel comfortable with it because of my past. Then I came to the conclusion that I would have to come out and say it. "I'm a lesbian." They both seemed a little unsettled by it but my dad seemed to be more accepting of it than my mom. I think that, despite all of what had happened, that he was still a little worried about me going out with guys. But my mom seemed a little disappointed. However, after I talked to them about Melissa (leaving out the sex part of course) and what she did (she's a student at a private high school) and what she was like, etc, they seemed to be a little more at ease. However, I thought that my mom was most likely going to think of Melissa as one of my friends than my girlfriend. I figured that she would work on it. A week later we had Melissa over for dinner. My sisters, only being 13 and 11, wouldn't quite understand, so we just let them think that she was my friend. My parents treated Melissa well, even though they were a bit cautious and nervous around her. Melissa seemed to be enjoying herself, too. Afterwards we went over to a coffee shop and talked for a while. Melissa said that she had a good time and that I had a nice family, etc, etc, but that she was a little nervous around my parents. After an hour she said that she had to go and kissed me goodbye. I was already used to getting the looks that we got, some people stared, others looked over and shook their heads. I didn't care anymore, I loved Melissa too much.

We celebrated our first year anniversary by taking a trip out to the Yiego cliffs. There was a resort there, and we had the time of our lives. Sunbathing, rock climbing, swimming, being pampered. And let's not forget the sex, which was always good. On our way back home, I was driving and I could see Melissa was struggling with something. I told her so. She sighed and then blurted out something that she obviously had been holding for a while. She wanted us to move in together. I loved the idea so much that I pulled over and we kissed for almost 10 minutes. I was elated was we drove home. Almost floating on the road. After much consideration, I told my parents of our plans. They seemed a little anxious but decided that it was a good idea. A couple weeks later, Melissa and I had found our place. It was an awsome top-floor apartment where we got the whole top floor to ourselves. We got her family to help move us in as mine was busy, and finally we were done. Then came the first night. We got the TV going and sat relaxing in eachothers arms watching a movie. She usually liked to take the guys role but tonight I insisted. It felt comfortable. I was loving this. Life was great. I had started school again thanks to a resurgence in the workforce and was making great progress, I loved Melissa and she loved me, we were living in a great place. I loved every moment of it. Thinking back as I write this personal story, I realize now that this is what was supposed to happen in my life. This whole incident was part of my life plan, it wasn't just a happening. I made such a great girl that I realize now that I was always meant to be a girl. I had more fun now than I ever did as a boy, loved things more, did more, knew more, and was all-around 180 degrees happier than I was as a boy. Melissa, as I finish this up, I hope that you can accept me for who I am and not be blinded by things that I cannot change. I love you with all my heart and I always will. I know that you do too. I am what I am today, regardless of what I was in the past. And trust me baby, I'm all woman. You know that better than I do. *wink*

I love you,

Sarah