© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart

Phil readily agreed to have us both tested just to be sure when I talked with him after the Sunday football party. We’d stayed again to clean up and I’d managed to get him alone for a few minutes.

“Sure,” he said. “I’d be glad to. We both got a little carried away, but you were something else. I’ve never felt so good!”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” I replied, grinning. “If, and I mean if, we ever do anything like that again, I want us to both be protected.”

“I understand completely,” he replied. “How about right now?”

I looked at his lecherous grin and decided I couldn’t be mad at him.

“You know I can’t just now,” I said. “But maybe soon.”

Blowing him a kiss, I went out to Karen’s car.

Tuesday brought my first appointment with the therapist. Dr. Overmeyer, “Call me Tina,” was nice, but made me work. When we first met, she was surprised that I wasn’t all woman. I explained that I’d been living like this for over almost five months, and off and on since I was very young. Talking with her, I realized that I’d never been much of a success as a boy. Absent parents hadn’t helped. Neither had my shyness.

Then she asked how I felt as Jessica and I told her how much more fun life was. She made me look at my early life. By the time our session was over, I had admitted both to her and myself that wearing Jessica’s clothes was not a turn on for me. That seemed odd to me, considering what I’d read on the net, but she thought it was very significant. I left with a couple of written tests to complete for next time, together with a letter from her stating that I was undergoing my real life test.

“I doubt if you’ll need it since you are so natural,” she said. “But you are protected if you have it.”

We had several sessions and I was forced to look at myself in a way I never had before. I learned that the way I did my programming was a way to avoid confronting life. While my childhood hadn’t been that bad, it wasn’t great either. Most of the time I didn’t have a parent with me and had missed out on some important life lessons. My friendship with Karen and her mother was the only thing that helped me with any socialization I had.

In several sessions we talked about things that seemed to have no bearing on what I was there for at all. But eventually I began to see some patterns as to why we were discussing many things. Perceiving patterns is something that I am especially good at and always have been.

I decided the sessions were doing me a lot of good and arranged to pay Tina a lump sum to cover weekly sessions for a year.

In the meantime, Phil and I continued to date for several weeks. It had become routine for Karen and me to set up for Phil’s football parties. After Phil came back with the blood tests that showed both of us were clean, I started to hang around after the parties. To my surprise, I really liked feeling Phil in my mouth. On Karen’s suggestion, I kept my hand curled around the base of his shaft so he couldn’t push himself so far in that I choked. I don’t know if I was understanding women any better, but I was having fun. Most of the time. Mark, being straight, was aghast at my behavior. But I just pushed him to the back of my mind. I was a girl on a mission.

It was a rainy day in Seattle. So what’s new about that? Nothing. The rarer day is one that’s sunny. But it being a rainy day was fitting. I felt awful. I felt bloated. It felt like I was blowing up like a balloon inside. Even my brain seemed ready to explode. It was hard to think straight. It was day three of my water retention pill time.

“How can you stand it?” I asked Karen who seemed her usual chipper self.

“You fake it,” she replied. “I feel just like you, but when you grow up with it from around the time you’re 12 or 13, you get used to hiding it. At that age, the last thing you want to do is letting anyone know you’re coming on. Especially not any of the boys!”

“I knew,” I said.

“That’s because I told you everything! You’ve always been my best girl friend, and we’ve always shared everything. It’s not like Jessica was a boy or anything.”

I only grunted. I wasn’t in the mood--for anything.

When Karen started having cramps, I remembered that Sandy had said a woman’s menstrual cramps were probably the equivalent to a guy getting kicked in the balls. Determined to experience everything about periods, I untaped my guy equipment, but couldn’t bring myself to hit my testicles, so I asked Karen to do it.

“You’re kidding?” she asked.

“No, Sandy said it would feel something like you do right now.” I said.

“Well, it does feel like my ovaries are on fire, and like I’ve been punched in the stomach,” she said. “But I wouldn’t wish anything like that on my worst enemy.”

Eventually I convinced her I needed to do this. I lifted my skirt and exposed my scrotum.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Karen said. Then she cupped my testicles in her hand. It felt weird having them hanging down again.

“Just pretend you’re taking out your anger on feeling this way every month,” I said.

That did it. She brought her other hand around in a sharp slap with my balls in-between.

I doubled up and fell on the floor. Pain shot up from my scrotum into my abdomen causing unbelievable cramping. Every guy knows a punch or kick there hurts because they’ve experienced it. But they don’t…can’t possibly really remember the pain. The brain blocks it out. Now I remembered. It’s funny, but the pain really is as much in the abdomen as much as the testicles. I guess that’s because they descend from up there and there is still some sort of connection.

In misery, I lay there for a while, until Karen helped me into my bedroom. She kept saying “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“It isn’t your fault,” I gasped. “I asked you to do it.”

They were still throbbing and I couldn’t really straighten up. Karen helped me onto my bed, then left and came back into the room with a glass of water and a pill

“This might help,” she said gently.

I swallowed the pill with the water and then laid down.

“What was that?” I asked. “Aspirin?”

“A Midol,” she replied.

The next day, I was better, but still sore. Karen gave me a pad to wear to cushion everything. It was a little intrusive, but helped. On general principles, I continued wearing pads the next three days. I finished my round of water retention pills and spent the next day mostly peeing. It helped to have the pads on as I didn’t quite make it into the bathroom a couple of times. Then I experienced how it felt to have a damp napkin between my legs.

Finally it was over for both of us. “Well, I’m glad that’s behind me,” I said.

“Yeah,” Karen replied. “You won’t have to face it again until about 25 days from now. Remember, we have about a 40 year sentence.”

’Again?’ I thought. ’I don’t know if I can stand it.’