The Machine
My mother was really gonna do it.
She was going to put the Machine on my head.
And I was just sitting there.
Why wasn’t I fighting this?
I should have been swearing, kicking, threatening to run away.
I mean, I was a boy, and boys aren’t supposed to use the Machine.
But I just sat there.
They took me to the chair, and put the Machine on my head.
I trembled, and closed my eyes.
Finally the Machine was done, and my mother lead me over to the mirror.
And even in boys clothes I could see it.
I looked like a girl.
I ... was a girl.
I ... was happy?
Dam it, my mother knew I was trans before I did!
And who knew a different hairstyle dried by a hair dryer could make such a difference?
End.