Androgen Insensitivity
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome is a rare disorder, but not as rare as many may realize. In fact, 1 in every 100,000 genetically normal males are born with this condition. The consequence is that in many cases it is never known that they are in fact, male. The bodies of people with AIS are totally unable to respond to any male hormone. Even at birth the genitals will appear female, and upon puberty the body will only respond to estrogens that are present, without androgens taking over. In fact, AIS “women” are often more womanly than genetic women, precisely because no male hormone can affect them. In general, AIS women can function socially, but a vagina does not form and of course, AIS people are sterile.

Acquired Androgen Insensitivity however, is extremely rare. Nobody seems to understand how it could happen. AIS is congenital – people are born with the condition. How the ability to respond to androgens could suddenly be lost, is a medical mystery. It is not as if the androgens are not being produced – the body simply does not recognize them. With AAI somehow the body spontaneously ceases to recognize them. At present it is estimated that there are less than 100 people in the whole world suffer from AAI. I am one of those people.

I can clearly recall the very day that it happened. I awoke on morning to discover that the sheets on my bed were covered with body hair that had fallen out in the night. Not all the hair had fallen out, but it was clear that something was wrong. While I am no hypochondriac I confess that I immediately thought about cancer. My doctor had no idea and the tests carried out in hospital drew a blank as well. The simple answer is that there is no test for AAI – the hormone levels in the blood are unchanged. The only evidence was the changes taking place in my body.

By the time I finally got to an endocrinologist who had some knowledge of the condition, the symptoms were already well advanced. Virtually all body hair had been lost, my skin had become soft, small swellings had appeared in my chest and my genitals appeared to be shrinking away almost completely. Even then this specialist had to reach for his reference books to learn more about AAI.

As explained to me, the major problem facing anybody with AAI is treatment. It is not like an estrogen producing tumor that can be cut out. Estrogens are always present in the male body (where they serve important functions including promoting fertility) – with AAI they are simply not dominated by the androgens so their effect becomes obvious. Even massive doses of male hormones could do nothing for me, because my body cannot respond to them. Even if the swellings in my chest could be removed and my genitals surgically enhanced, I faced the future with a soft hairless body. The only facial hair I would ever have would need to be glued on.

While I had always regarded myself as a masculine, I have never been tall and once my muscles had wasted away and the whiskers and hard edges of my face had been lost, I appeared increasingly feminine. AAI meant that I would always look like that – like a drag king – a woman in men’s clothing.

My endocrinologist was able to put the facts to me from known incidences of AAI in the western world. Curiously in other parts of the world social conditions were friendlier to those with AAI. But in the western we see only man or woman, masculine or feminine. It was going to be a problem for me.

Remission or reversal of the condition was unknown – my predicament was permanent. Several with AAI had tried to live as men and all but one had been unable to cope – there had been depression and suicide. The most successful outcomes had been where the subject had elected to change sex. In each case this had been a complete role reversal – normal heterosexual men had chosen to live as women. As such they had merged unseen into society, perhaps more easily than transsexuals, as their bodies had already ceased to be men without artificial assistance.

I immediately dismissed that possibility, but the alternative would appear to be to live in a netherworld where I was unable to function sexually, and where I would appear to be either a woman in male clothing or a feminized man. For me this was hardly an option. I had lived my life as a man in all respects, and I could not imagine trying to live that life in my present condition. If I did nothing I would need to leave town - leave my life and all my friends behind me – and start anew, perhaps as a sexless person.

In truth, that would also be hard. I counted myself one of a very close group. I had established myself in a small business as a specialist automotive spray painter. Having an artistic flair I design and painted car-bodies, motorcycle fuel tanks, airplanes and boats, and after several years I had two guys working for me full time, including my late father’s oldest Friend, Larry Grayson. I was close to Larry and a group of others my own age, all in the automotive industry, all keen on motor-racing, football, shooting, and getting together over a few beers as regularly as possible. I shared an apartment with two old friends from schooldays, Warren and Jake. They were single like me and we played the field. Before AAI I was no Don Juan, but I had sex with women regularly without having to become entangled.

My friends had noticed changes in me perhaps even before I did. Whenever this thing started it was not clear to me – it was not an accident or event that I could pin down. My friends would ask me whether I was putting on weight, or losing weight, or coloring my hair – all sorts of stupid questions that made no sense to me at the time. They could see the subtle changes, which I missed before I was diagnosed.

In my first week in hospital for tests, every one of them had called in to see me. Like good friends should be, they were worried about me. But when I learned what I was suffering from I was too embarrassed to tell them. I knew that the changes would continue, and I did not want them to see me.

When I was told the options for treatment, I ruled out the sex change idea as not an option. I felt so much a man on the inside I could not imagine pretending to be a woman. But insensitivity to androgen does more than just effect your body, and other changes followed. Firstly, I found myself sobbing about my predicament – this from a man who had not cried since he was eight. And I found that I felt the need to be looked after, I wanted to depend on somebody. This was not the man who had made his own way in the world as I had done. When I asked my endocrinologist as to how I could drive out these feelings, he told me he could not help. I was no longer responding to the androgens that foster aggressive and dominating behavior. Even women respond to the small amounts of this male hormone even present in all women. But I could not. Estrogens were affecting me. So, I was not only physically feminized but increasingly mentally feminized as well, with no obvious remedy. Worse than that, I was more feminine than the average woman. What hope did I have pretending to be a man?

I remembered that my friends had noticed these mental changes in me also, even before my tests in hospital. There had been instances where I had not reacted to something as I would have previously, and they had seen it. They were too concerned to comment. But it now became clear to me, that I was changed already.

I was starting to understand why those AAI who chose not to change sex had found themselves unable to continue long term. I began to ask about the sex change option, just to understand it better. Before I left the hospital after the tests, my endocrinologist introduced me to a patient of his - a transsexual called Sally. She offered to help me sample life as a woman. She suggested that I might like it.

I was not ready to go back to the apartment, so she offered for me to stay at her place after I was discharged. When I called Warren to tell him that I would be out of town for further tests, he said “Man, its sounds like someone has you by the balls!” I had not noticed that my voice was changing too. I wondered if I would ever see my friends again. It seemed hard to imagine that I could face them as I was at that point.

I called Larry too, but I took care to make my voice sound deeper. He said that I was not too worry as he would look after the shop and pay my share of the apartment rent and some spending money into my account. He was really nice, and told me just to concentrate on getting over whatever I had. I could not tell him that was impossible.

Sally took the view that I should go the whole way for a few days just to try it. She said that I could simply put on a bra and some lipstick and call myself a girl, but that in order to do the job properly I should go from being a man’s man to become a woman’s woman. I could always drop the ultra-feminine trappings later, as she had done. She said that as a transsexual she had started by going over the top, but she had now tempered her style to blend in. She told me that she now never thought about her life as dressing up as a woman – she was a woman. But she felt that for me it was important to go through that phase. I had concluded that I would at least give this option a try. I had no faith that it would work, but there was nothing else. And I was prepared to follow her advice.

She was to start from the top. My hair had softened and become a little thicker with changes in my body, but it was not so long. Sally immediately suggested extensions. According to her, this would allow me to experiment with feminine hairstyles. They could always be cut off, but for now they would give me an unmistakable woman’s head of hair that I would need to style before going out.

My face was to receive some attention. The loss of the influence of male hormones had led to a softening of my features, and I always had large and wide set eyes with good eyelashes, but the brows were to be thinned and skin moisturized.

My chest had acquired what was known as “A cup” breasts – Sally was of the view that I should obtain implants, but as I was still trialing this thing she arranged for me some “breast forms” which could be attached if required and would fill a bra. This clothing item was entirely new to me, although had acquired some skill in removing them from girls I had taken to bed. I have to say that from the moment that I put a bra on for the first time I was overcome by what was happening. Again, I found myself in tears. Sally said something like “You hold it together now, girlfriend”, and I found myself comforted, curiously more by the last word she had spoken.

The panties went on next, and I found that whatever was left in my groin fitted easily within the flat lacy front. Looking at myself in the mirror confirmed that my body was not male.

Sally inspected my hands and she was troubled. I explained that I was a tradesman and had used my hands. Her response was that there was one way to put a stop to that – long nails. She explained that these would also help with feminizing what were quite large hands. AAI would have no effect on them, or my feet. We discovered that my feet were the same size as hers and that I could borrow any one of the many pairs of fashion shoes that she had accumulated over the years.

Naturally her extreme regime required practice in high heels, which curiously I mastered in quite short order. This included climbing and descending stairs, getting in and out of cars, bending over and other maneuvers. I also put on a dress for the first time and when through the same exercises plus sitting and standing from a variety of chairs and positions.

The whole exercise was undertaken with great humor and with great patience and understanding from Sally. After a day with Sally and staying at her place overnight discussing things, the following day we to a salon operated by a friend of Sally’s. Sally introduced me to Erika. I had an idea that Erika may have been a transsexual also, but of course I would not assume anything – not now anyway.

Erika got to work on attaching extensions to give me a head of hair longer that shoulder length in a honey blond color, not too far from my own natural hair color. At the same time a manicurist worked on my hands, attaching fake nails and filing them. After the hair and nails were done I was given a full facial, an eyebrow wax and eyelash tinting. Erika was keen to do hairstyling and make up, but that was not Sally’s strategy. I was to do my own work with what I had.

The first thing that I noticed was my hair. It was long and thick, and it fell about my face. Sally introduced me to a variety of hair clips, bands and scrunchies. With extensions I used a brush, only using a comb to work a center parting. Sally said that hair was a woman’s joy and that she had longed for hair as I now had, since she was a child. She was thrilled to share with me a joy for trying simple styles. It had initially seemed a hassle for me, but I could see how much fun it could be. We did high pony tails, French braids, buns, twists – admiring them in mirrors from all angles. I did the same styles on Sally, initially with hilarious results. We fell about giggling. I started to feel that that little things like this were a joy, and that being a girl could really be fun.

Long nails were harder to cope with. I could not put my hands in my pockets – but as Sally explained, I would not need to. I also found that long nails made me use my hands differently. I had to pick things up daintily. I had to hold my hands to protect my nails. And of course, Sally was right, when it came to doing any significant manual chore I was pretty helpless.

Make up was one thing that I took to easily. My background in artwork allowed me skill with the brush and pencil, and a good make up job seemed so much like a custom paint job with the blending of colors and the use of highlights. Initially I followed the simple rules that Sally had laid down, but then I started to experiment on my face and Sally’s. She said that I had a real talent.

My artistic flair also came to the fore on clothes. Sally had a large array of fashion and women’s magazines and we would go through clothes, hairstyles and make up trends together. I quickly developed a sense of what looked right. It seemed strange to me then (and now) that I had never noticed women’s clothing at all. So much money and attention is paid to fashion yet for men (as I had been) it meant nothing at all. The only clothes that I had liked on women were those that I could see through or that hid nothing. Colors, cut, drape and detail meant nothing to me. The artist in me could now appreciate all of these.

When we were not poring over magazines, Sally had a strict regimen of soap operas and chick flick movies. She would point out movements and behaviors’ that were distinctly feminine and we would act them out later. Initially I hammed it up but I found that I was slipping in to these actions without deliberation.

Of course, in the movies it always ended with the girl winning her man, something that we had always wanted to happen, and in which we shared her joy, often with tears. But it prompted me to ask Sally about men. She explained to me that before she had changed her sex she had regarded herself as a heterosexual man, albeit with gender confusion. She had never really considered sex with men until after her operation. Now she considered herself a heterosexual woman and had never felt sexually attracted to a woman since. The whole idea seemed very strange to me.

In fact as I looked at myself in the mirror, I found the whole thing beyond belief. There will be people hearing my story who will say the same thing – a man does not become a woman. My only explanation is that after AAI took over my body I ceased to be a man. If you went through what I did you would understand that. That is not to say that I became a woman. But now the face looking back at me was a woman.

I wondered about myself. Why had I asked Sally about men? It may seem stupid, but while all of this was going on I had not considered my sex life after AAI. I suppose I assumed that I would find a way to go on winning women to my charms, even without a body that could perform as a man, but that now seemed ridiculous. Dressed as a woman, the idea of chasing lesbians for sex seemed weird, but that is what I would be doing. I started to check out the men in the magazines and the movies. Did I find them attractive? Could I have a relationship with a man?

The turning point was when I was watching one particular movie with Sally, for training purposes. It was a classic high school melodrama with the good-looking dweeb chasing (and ultimately winning) the cheerleader away from the jock. I suppose I looked at the dweeb and wondered whether I could ever have him make love to me as a woman, but when the jock took off his shirt and smiled at the cheerleader I felt something unmistakable. It was pure womanly lust – my first experience of it. I told Sally which of the two men I would prefer in my bed. She laughed ... and agreed.

For me the remarkable thing was not that I had apparently switched sexual preference – the truth is I was still not sure that I had – it was that the man I preferred was so dominant. It made me feel even more feminine and even submissive. The sexual partner that my body seemed to respond to would be on top, fucking me. I realized that I would never fuck anybody again. Because in truth, I could not. With male hormones to animate it, my penis was just a piss nozzle.

There was no decision to make. AAI had made it for me. I was to become a woman. I called my endocrinologist and told him to arrange the operation. Sally jumped for joy and insisted that we celebrate.

I borrowed a floral dress, a pair of heels and a bag from Sally. We took a cab downtown. We went to visit Erika and had our hair put up in special but essentially casual styles. I had my ears pierced and CZ studs inserted. Sally coached me on how to tone down my appearance and behavior to appear more normal. Actually I never really took to the hyper-feminine thing anyway. I felt that I could get away with acting like a tomboy as long as I looked good – and that night, I did.

We went to a high-class bar with a hefty cover charge for men, but women free. We ordered cheap champagne. We smiled at men and had them buy us more expensive girly drinks - camparis and stuff like that. Sally said that as women, we needed to be careful not to get drunk. My smaller body mass could not hold the liquor and as the weaker sex we could never let ourselves be taken advantage of. But as women we could use our sex to the max.

Two guys took us for a late supper at Gerry’s Grill. A guy called Mitch sat next to me and put his hand on my leg more than once. I lifted it off the first time but put my hand on his – I figured it meant “no sex but keep up the attention” – at least up until a few months ago that would have been how I read that signal if a girl had done it to me. So it is like having all her tools with a man’s knowledge on how to use them.

We parted company with the guys outside the restaurant. The cab had stopped, and we were explaining what a big day we had coming tomorrow. Mitch asked for my number and I explained that I was just in town a few days staying with Sally. Sally had already given a number to the guy she was with – a fake one as it turned out. Mitch said he would call her to reach me, and that as I was a visitor he could show me some sights. As we parted he moved to kiss me – I knew the move as I have done it before. The idea is to leave the girl with enough to make her want to take that call. I decided that I would do the classic response and turn my head to let him kiss my cheek, but as his hot breath neared my mouth I found my lips part a fraction to receive him. I could feel his lips were hot; I could feel his whiskers against my soft skin; I could taste his tongue – musky and sensual. I almost swooned. He could certainly feel my body yielding. When we parted I could see that if I was affected, he was doubly so. It was as if my impulsive docility made him need me. I could see it and could feed of it. I began to see that as a woman I could have power over men.

I went into hospital the next day. There was none of the counselling associated with transsexuals. The operations were an established treatment for AAI. It was covered by my medical insurance. The actual procedure followed a few days later after my body had been poked and prodded, and my overall health assessed.

The aftermath was painful – no escaping that fact. I had a small plaster on my nose (a little size reduction included), my chest was encased in a formed bandage and my groin was wrapped in cloth with a urine tube coming out. To say that I felt kicked in the balls would have been a gross understatement. Sally came to visit, and she had the advantage of knowing what I was going through. Within a few days and with her support, the pain subsided.

I had stayed in touch with my friends and my business by email. I had dared not call as my voice had changed. Lying in a hospital bed I had access to email through my laptop and found myself clattering away. I had not only been able to send messages but I was able to price some jobs and even send concept drawings down the line using a computer graphics that I used. Fortunately, I had Larry looking after the shop, so I could do concept, pricing and admin from a distance. But the truth is that the big work needed me on site. If my business was to survive I needed to get back to it.

As I recovered I decided that I needed to prepare everybody for my re-entry into our group. I felt that it might not work. To say that I was the same guy who had left three months earlier was so obviously a lie. I was a very different person. Not just in the body of a woman, but a person who now loved dresses, spent hours at the mirror and had kissed a man and loved it. Perhaps it would be hello and goodbye to all my prior friends, and off to a new life with them forgotten. I knew that I would have to prepare for that possibility, but it saddened me.

So, I wrote an email and copied it to Larry, Jake and Warren and a few other pals:

“After numerous tests the doctors have discovered what is wrong with me. I have a very rare condition which has affected my endocrine system. My body no longer responds to male hormones and has become feminized over time. Some of you may have noticed these changes. The condition is untreatable but is not dangerous. The only question that it raises is whether I can continue to live as a man with the physical effects that it has. I have decided that I cannot. When I next see you, I will be a woman named Anna. Some of you may not want to meet her, and if that is the case then I understand, and I thank you for your past friendship. But I have made my decision because I feel that I have no choice.”

It was the last message I sent from my old email address. From my new address I set out an invitation to Anna’s birthday party. I had arranged to have it at an Italian restaurant near to my workshop that Saturday.

I invited Sally. I had said that I wanted it low key, but she said that I needed to dress well. She suggested a knit dress cut low in the front. I thought it was outrageous but as she put it, in that outfit nobody could mistake me for a man. We had our nails done and some curls put in our hair.

I had not intended to make an entrance. I wanted to be there to greet everybody as they arrived. But believe it or not we had a flat tire on the way. Both Sally and I could not fix it. How embarrassing for all my years in the industry not to be able to fix a tire, but with the heels on and the nails just done and everything. Luckily when standing beside a flat tire wearing that dress, 3 cars stopped to help! It still took a while, mainly because of all the efforts to chat up me and Sally.

So, when I arrived I walked in looking a little flustered but about as gorgeous as I could be. I was told afterwards that my friends had agreed that they would applaud when I entered, but in fact I just looked at maybe 30 faces with their mouths hanging open. I was so pleased that everybody had turned up, I could barely hold back the tears of happiness. I just stammered out: “Hi, I am Anna.” Once it had been confirmed the applause started.

Nobody could believe that it was me. Some said that when I walked in they thought the whole thing was a monumental practical joke – that the email was a lie and I had hired a stripper to pose as me. But there was enough of the old me there to dismiss that idea. Still, in another circumstance I wish I would have thought of a prank like that.

It certainly helped that AAI had worked its wonders on me, as that it how I view it now. I could have had any other condition that could kill me or rob me of quality of life. Instead I my condition simply gave me a new life. A different life. I am lucky for that, and the fact that I have true friends.

So how is it for me now, over a year after that day?

I continue to work in my paint shop, but focusing on design. At the drawing board I can dress smart and keep clean, but I still like to mix with the boys on the shop floor, and I have the background to relate to them. But I work more with the clients. We still get the work from our reputation and wide network in the automotive industry, but Anna offers a new feature in some of our promotional spreads and I am picking up more work. I promise “personal attention” and some guys really appreciate that.

So, I like my look to be either sexy or concealed sexy without being over sexy. By that I mean that I would never dress like a whore, except in my underwear. At work I like to appear professional but with something a little suggestive or quirky. I like my hair pulled back (not too tightly) clean and sleek but with a little curl off my forehead or in front of one ear. This is like my hood designs – smooth and sleek with a little something extra.

I like to wear dresses (especially when it is hot – men should envy us), but I like jeans as well. I love to wear nice shoes – there is nothing like a good pair of shoes to make you look good, and so feel good. If I must wear sweats I wear a floral t-shirt or something in my hair to maintain my femininity.

I moved out of the apartment and got my own place. Jake and Warren both have girlfriends and we go out together, five of us, or six if I have a date. I am more one of the girls and talk with the girlfriends about our stuff, but I still have a special bond with my buddies. I do not go shooting with them as before, but we get together to watch motor-racing and football, if the girls are included. I am more inclined to sit on the couch with them.

Larry has become my dad in a way that he never could before. I call him “Pop” and I introduce him to any new boyfriend as my father. He looks after me. I think it is really important for a girl to have somebody like Larry.

Lately I have met a guy who really is the first guy Larry properly approves of. His name is Dan and he is a management consultant, so nothing to do with my industry. He is tall and dark and pretty good looking, I think. We have great sex. The first time he came inside me, it almost blew my brains out. But he is a gentle and generous lover, and a nice guy. I have told him that I have XY chromosomes and that I am sterile, but 100% a woman. He has researched AIS but I have not told him about AAI. Is that wrong? It is almost the same thing, so I figure.

Anyway, we went out with Jake and Warren and the girls last weekend and in a quiet moment he proposed. I said yes but I told him we should have had a special date for a question like that. And he said: “I thought you might like to check with them before you said yes.” I am going to say that he was joking, I think. But if he was not, then it just shows that he understands that I am still close to my buddies.

But when I said yes, it was with the understanding that the boys are still my boys, but this man is the only man I want in every sense of the word. I want him with me. I want him to care for me. I want him to share everything with me, as I will with him. I want him inside me.

So here I am, just married. I had a wonderful day as the bride, and I am looking forward to a lifetime as a wife to my Dan.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2020