THE BALL GAME... OR THREE STRIKES AND I WAS OUT ... OF BOYHOOD!
by
JENNIFER SUE

originally posted on Fictionmania

Do you like baseball? I sure did! I guess I still do... but I don’t play anymore. I was a pretty good player... the best pitcher in my little league and the best batting average at .569. Although I wasn't too big I put everything I had into every game. I practiced every day all year long. Dad even built me an indoor pitching range in our basement work out room. Mom always said dad and I were obsessed by the game and I guess we were.

I guess I should introduce myself. Back then everyone called me James. Now I’m known as Jamie. That doesn't seem like too much of a change but it really makes a world of difference. Let me give you some advice. If you ever go into a hospital make sure you know what medicine they're giving you and what it will do. It could save you a lot of grief. I know... I found out the hard way!

It all started one Saturday in mid-February when I was 12. Being the smallest kid in my class I was always doing something to prove I was as much of a guy as my larger classmates. In addition to baseball I played tough football and hockey. I worked out on our weight bench a lot trying to beef up my shoulders and pitching arm. I was anxiously awaiting my puberty so the testosterone would help me beef up. I also wanted my voice to change so I could ask a girl out to the movies without my voice cracking.

When you stand four feet ten inches and weigh 78 pounds... I told you I was a small kid... it's not too smart to try to press 150 pounds. Think that's impossible for a scrawny kid like me to do? Well...it almost is. You don't believe I could do it? Well I did press 150 pounds... once. I didn't say a kid like me could lift that much without hurting himself.

I had just made the jerk. My legs were spread and the barbell wavered unsteadily above my head. I was sweating heavily and my legs were shaking from the strain. My stomach was trembling from the effort. That was where I made my first mistake. You see in my mind I often played this imaginary ball game where I’m the hero. I did this whenever I was concentrating hard about doing things. I guess it pumped me full of adrenalin. Anyway in my daydream it was the top of the ninth of the championship game and my team was down by one run. The first batter made it to first. The next batter popped out. I approached the plate. I had to hit a home run... the batter following me was a wimpy girl and every boy knows a girl could never play well under pressure. I looked at the umpire, smiled, and faced the pitcher, sneering at him. He sneered back as he wound up and let the ball fly. I swung mightily. STRIKE ONE! I was stunned! How could I miss in my daydream? My concentration was broken and I began to lose control of the weights. As I struggled to regain control I felt and heard something rip in my groin. The pain was instant and intense. I dropped the weights with a resounding crash and collapsed on the floor moaning. For about half an hour I rolled about clutching my groin until the pain subsided. Once I caught my breath I slowly sat up. There were still a few painful twinges but I felt better. I made my way to a chair and collapsed there.

That’s how I was when Dad found me. He saw the weights lying haphazardly on the floor and saw me curled up on the chair looking quite pale while holding my groin.

"Don’t tell me you tried to lift that," he asked in disbelief even though he could see the truth.

I smiled weakly and nodded my head yes. “I did it too!”

"It looks it,” he declared as he approached, knelt before me, and began to gently probe my groin. “How bad does it hurt and where?"

"It hurt a lot at first," I answered as I grimaced at his probing. "That's why I dropped the weights. It doesn't feel too bad now. It hurts right here," I told him as I pointed to my ball sack.

Dad gently pressed my lower abdomen and groin. "Tell me if any of this hurts." While he was doing this he really chewed me out, "I've taught you better than to try something as stupid as trying to lift that much especially without a spotter. How could you do something so stupid?"

That's when mom came in, "Now what he'd do that was so stupid?" She froze as she took in the scene of dad kneeling beside me examining my groin and the overweight barbells lying where they obviously fell. She reached the logical conclusion. "You didn't," she gasped as she looked at me with fear.

Dad looked at her and nodded his head. “You'd better call the doctor to see how soon he can see James."

Mom went to make the call while Dad helped me upstairs. By the time we made it up the steps mom was on the phone and had told the doctor what I’d done. The doctor asked how I was doing. Mom told him I was still in pain but moving about slowly. He told them to have me stay in bed until Monday morning and then to bring me to his office the first thing. He added that if I began to feel worse or became ill they were to call him and take me to the hospital emergency ward.

Sunday morning I felt pretty good and as most 12 year old macho guys I thought I knew better than the doctor. I snuck back down to the weight-room and started working out. That was my second mistake. As I attempted to lift 80 pounds I found myself back in my imaginary ball game still at the plate. That last pitch had been the best curve ball I'd ever faced. It caught me unprepared. I gritted my teeth and was ready to redeem myself before my admiring fans. There was the wind up and the pitch! I gave forth with a herculean swing only to hear the umpire call 'STRIKE TWO! After that all I remember was another terrific stabbing pain. By the time I came to I was surrounded by a team of paramedics. Mom and dad anxiously stood to one side. Mom was crying and dad was trying to comfort her. Through the pain I smiled weakly and waved. Once they were sure I was stabilized they rushed me to the emergency ward. After being checked by an intern I was admitted to the hospital. I didn't protest... I’d learned my lesson about disobeying a doctors orders... I was in PAIN!

Needless to say my parents were quite upset with what I had done but were caring and supportive as they helped me settle into my room. The intern had set up a tentative surgery time pending the approval of the specialist. The next day a specialist came in to check me. I grew worried by how concerned the specialist was by the swelling and pain I was suffering.

I was petrified so mom went with me to the surgery. I remember being wheeled into the surgery and seeing smiling nurses place an IV in my arm. The next thing I knew I was groggily waking up in the recovery room. I was back in my room by noon. Mom told me they'd discovered my ruptured intestines had settled into my scrotum and virtually strangled my testicles. The specialist had been barely able to save one... I lost the other. My lone ball was weak and fragile. The specialist ordered me to stay in the hospital strapped down on an IV with antibiotics for a week to make sure it had a chance to heal. The specialist told us he'd check on me Saturday morning to see how I was doing.

There was no way I was going to disobey those orders. My masculinity depended upon the successful recuperation of my remaining testicle. I resolved to do exactly as I was told and to take any medication they gave me. As a result I simply accepted the medications they gave me.

Did you know missing a 'one' can lead to a big mistake? No one realized there was a typographical error in the ordering of the prescriptions for the ward I was on. The antibiotics the specialist ordered for me came through with no problems. However, the patient in room 18 wasn't so lucky. She never received her prescribed medications. Her name was Joan Miller and she was having major problems with her menstruation and her menstrual cycle in general. Her Gynecologist had her admitted to give her huge hourly doses by IV of all the basic female hormones in an effort to shock her body into normalcy. I was in room 8 and my last name is Miller. The computer order for the nurses to administer the mega intravenous doses of hormones to Joan designated “J. Miller, room 8". It should have been for room 18! I became the unwitting beneficiary of hourly doses of enough female hormones to give Sylvester Stallone tits from one dose!

Having decided to be a good buy for a change I never questioned all the hourly additions to my IV. I kind of doubt it would have done any good to question the nurses. I simply took them. Joan's doctor had told her he'd see her on Saturday to see what effect the hormones had on her. He expected visible results due to the massive doses. We found out later that she too was frightened and never questioned the lack of medication assuming her doctor had changed his orders.

Since both of our doctors had told us they’d check us on Saturday the error wasn't discovered until then when the girl's doctor checked her. He quickly discovered she'd never received any hormones. He stormed angrily to the nurses station to demand who'd countermanded his orders. They said they never had any orders for her. After some loud arguing they discovered the typographical error. Needless to say the doctor and the nurses rushed to my room. Upon checking me they discovered the mega doses of female hormones had indeed done the job the doctor wanted done. They certainly had shocked my body into changing.

Despite the fact that I’d only been on the female hormones for 5 days I was already developing breasts! They were still small but my nipples were swollen, erect, and so super-sensitive they actually hurt. The gynecologist and nurses were quite upset. When my specialist arrived the gynecologist appraised him of the error. They both examined me quite thoroughly. At that point I didn’t know what had happened but I knew something was drastically wrong and justifiably feared the loss of my manhood. When my parents arrived the doctors quickly escorted them from my room leaving me to stew in my fears.

The gynecologist, my specialist, the hospital administration, and my parents were soon in a meeting. Two hours later dad was white-faced when he entered my room. Mom was smiling weakly. While I still didn’t know what had happened I instinctually knew my remaining testicle had died. I rolled away from them to stare at the wall not wanting to hear the bad news. If only that had been all of the bad news!

“James,” Mom began. “There's no easy way to tell you this so I’ll be blunt. There has been an error in the medications you’ve been receiving. Due to a typographical error you received treatments that were meant for a girl down the hall in room 18. You’ve been receiving massive doses of female hormones. The doctors say the female hormones have killed your testicle. It's also why your breasts are sore and swelling. Even if we stop the hormones now your breasts will continue to grow for a bit until the female hormones work out of your system.”

To say I was stunned would be an understatement. I’d sort of expected the news about my ball being dead but to learn that I was developing like a girl? I was totally unprepared for that revelation! I stared blankly in disbelief that such an error could have occurred. I was angry with myself for allowing it to happen without questioning all the medication. In my misery I remained turned to the wall and ignored everyone.

Unable to face the harsh reality I allowed my mind to drift to happier times and quickly found myself back in my imaginary ball game. I stood at the plate bewildered by the lightening fast ball that caused my second strike. I never fanned two in a row! I was angrily berating myself for this thus breaking my concentration. Suddenly the third ball whizzed by before I was ready. I saw the big surly umpire behind the catcher yell 'STRIKE THREE! YOU’RE OUT!'

The mega doses of female hormones had administered the coup-de-grace to my weakened testicle. It was totally and irretrievably dead. My specialist removed it that afternoon leaving me a eunuch. Needless to say I wasn't happy about the loss of my manhood... what guy would? Everyone who saw me promptly noted my disagreeable disposition. Despite my grouchiness all the nurses went out of their way to be nice to me. They genuinely felt terrible about the grievous error.

They kept me in the hospital for observation over the next week. During that time the female hormones that still flooded my body were doing what they were designed to do. They had been intended to force the girl's body to recognize and begin producing the female hormones normally produced by a teenage girl on a continuing basis. Unfortunately I wasn't yet a teenager or a girl... but that quickly changed. It didn't matter to those hormones that I was a preteen boy! The doctors couldn't stop the female hormones from ravaging my weakened male body. The problem was aggravated by the loss of my testicles since there were now no male hormones in my body. Since I had no male organs left the doctors feared trying to artificially reverse the effects the female hormones were having on my body. As the days passed my breasts seemed to balloon. The rapid development of my breasts frightened me. By the end of the week the pert mounds on my chest made me look like a teenage girl.

During the week the doctors, the hospital directors, and my parents reached a monetary agreement about the error and decided what steps to take to see how I could best have a normal life. They never asked my opinion about what should be done and never even told me they'd reached a decision.

On Friday I was awakened early and given a shot in the butt. When I asked what the shot was for the nurse told me it was a relaxant to help me relax for my upcoming surgery. I hadn't even known I was going for more surgery but the shot relaxed me to the point I couldn't resist or argue. I was simply wheeled back into surgery.

What they did to me is why I’m now Jamie instead of James. They removed the last shriveled and useless remnants of my boyhood! Imagine being wheeled into a surprise surgery and awakening in the recovery room a girl! When I discovered what they’d done I once more loudly voiced my displeasure!

It was a very painful recovery. The next four weeks were sheer hell. My body quickly developed into a young girl’s delight. For an all American boy like me it was like a nightmare.

The third week after the sex change surgery Mom brought in the first of my new wardrobe. My hospital gown was removed and a pair of soft nylon lace-edged pink panties was given to me. I looked angrily at Mom but she was adamant that I begin dressing and behaving as the girl I had unwillingly become. Much to my chagrin I discovered the loss of my male organs apparently destroyed my ability to resist my mother. I soon had the silken garment in place. I was amazed to find how nicely panties fit my now clearly feminine tush. Since I no longer had any male equipment between my legs the panties fit my now flat groin snugly and... although I hated to admit it... comfortably. I balked at putting on the matching bra but Mom insisted and soon my perky tender breasts were being gently caressed and supported by the soft nylon cups. I felt a tremor of pleasure pass through me. Wearing a bra actually felt good! Besides, now that they were held snugly inside the bra my damn titties didn’t wobble about in response to my every movement. The last item she had for me was a knee length lace edged pink nylon nightie. Silently I slipped it on. I certainly wasn't mentally ready for this. I still felt that I was a boy and that being turned into a girl against my will was a crime. Yet I couldn’t deny that now that I was finally wearing girls clothes they felt very nice and comfortable... like I belonged wearing feminine clothes. For a moment I was angry and confused. My anger turned to frustration as I remembered my sex change surgery...I did belong in girls clothes now.

Over the next few days more lingerie followed as did books and magazines suitable for a girl my age. My ears were pierced and my long blond hair was trimmed and permed. Looking in the mirror I was horrified and yet pleased to see I had become a pretty pre-teenage girl. Now that I was nearly healed my curiosity increasingly demanded that I explore my new sexual equipment. As a guy I'd jerked off almost every night imagining myself with some cute girl. Now I finally had that girl's body... but not in the way I’d fantasized. Mentally I was still a horny preteen boy who simply had to find out how a girl’s body worked. For the first time in my life I now had a cute nubile girl at hand so I could safely answer those boyish questions. From my past experiences I knew that when a guy sets horny it's all centered in his cock and balls. I knew that girls got horny and now that I was a girl I wondered how it would feel. Naturally such thoughts made me feel guilty about betraying my lost boyhood so I did my best to try to dispel those thoughts. But the more I tried to stop thinking about it the more difficult it became. Monday night after four days of being forced to dress as a girl and having only girlish reading material it caught up with me when the lights were out and I was alone.

To my chagrin I learned that when a girl gets horny it starts as a warm tingling in her breasts. I was just thinking about being horny and they started to tingle. It felt so enticing and I was so emotionally worn out from my mental battle I gave in to my curiosity. Slowly and quite tentatively I moved my hands and gingerly touched them. Quickly I discovered that the more my breasts were caressed the more they wanted. As I fondled my breasts the warm naughtily pleasant tingling spread throughout my body until even my toes and hair felt warm and tingly! Then my crotch... my vagina... began to grow warmer and warmer until the tingle there turned into an itch that demanded to be scratched. I wasn’t ready to touch myself there but the sensations engulfing me were too delightful to deny so I kept massaging my breasts. In a matter of moments I was rolling about and tossing on the bed. The unexpected exquisite sensations soon had me breathing heavily. Before I realized it one of my hands somehow abandoned its breast and moved between my legs. That first touch took away what little self control I had retained. In seconds I was bucking my hips as my wriggling exploring fingers touched my newly created girlhood. I began to explode and explode and explode! When I had orgasmed as a guy I’d come once then it'd be over. Orgasming as a girl was totally and wonderfully different! Each orgasm grew better and stronger than the last until I was gasping for breath. I didn’t even realize I was screaming as wave after wave of rapture engulfed me.

Suddenly a pair of hands grasped my wrists and pulled my arms away from my body and pinned them to my pillow. I cried out to be let go as my bucking and panting increased. Slowly my horniness began to recede. In the dim light from the open door I saw the smiling face of the night nurse holding me down. Instead of the sexual high just disappearing like it had when I was a guy it changed into a warm comforting glow.

"Do you feel better now Jamie," she gently asked with understanding and no condemnation. "We've all been wondering when you’d discover your new toys. You don't have to feel guilty about it. We've all done it and do it. It’s as much of being a girl as jerking off was a part off being a boy. Now you just relax and go to sleep. I'm sure after all this exertion you'll have no problems dozing off.”

She was right. My first sexual experience as a girl had exhausted me and I was nodding off as she spoke. I vaguely recalled her releasing my wrists and wiping my sweated brow. In the morning all the nurses smiled knowingly at me but wisely no one mentioned my self exploration. I really felt guilty. I had learned that girls could and did masturbate. Much to the chagrin of my boyishness I had discovered that sexual orgasms as a girl were a lot better than the sex I enjoyed as a guy.

By the end of my stay I’d unconsciously begun to think and act like a girl. I guess it was a combination of the female hormones forcing my body into female puberty, the realization that I had forever and irrevocably lost my manhood, the glut of girlish books and magazines that were the only things I was allowed to read, and everyone constantly treating me as if I were a real girl. I felt miserable. One minute I was detesting what had happened and became indignant and belligerent over my lost masculinity. Then suddenly I’d start giggling like a silly girl. I imagined I knew what Dr. Jeckle went through enduring Mr. Hyde. My problem was that I couldn't pinpoint which side of me was the horrible monster. At first I thought the monster was my girlish present but without any sense of boyishness about me my male indignation and loathing of being a sissy began to fade. Slowly I began to switch viewpoints and thought the monster was my arrogant and rowdy boyish past. It was all very confusing.

As the day of my discharge approached I nervously anticipated my first dress. I was torn by guilt. My old male pride was fighting every inch while my growing girlhood was reveling in the newly discovered sensations and pleasures of femininity.

The day of my debut as a pretty lass finally arrived. After eating a light breakfast I showered and used the floral scented talc Mom had brought for me. Some of the nurses had redone my curly blond hair and manicured the nails of my feet and hands to a glossy bright pink. I smiled to myself as I recalled their concern and kindness over the last five weeks. My heart was pounding as I put on the pretty nylon lace pink panty and bra set Mom had brought for me. I was unnerved to discover I filled the frilly 'A' cups of the dainty bra with no room to spare. As I gazed down at my very girlish bosom I realized I was better developed than ninety percent of the girls in my seventh grade class. Slipping my robe back on I waited nervously for mom to arrive with the rest of my outfit.

When mom finally arrived I greeted her with a warm nervous hug... something I’d never have done before this whole mess began. Heck... I'd even given Dad a hug the night before. They both seemed to enjoy being hugged by me... especially Mom. I kind of liked it too.

"Sit on the chair Jamie," Mom instructed. "It's time for your first lesson in putting on pantyhose.”

Even though I did as I was told my male past began to surface at that point as I wondered how she could be so cheerful about my learning to put on pantyhose. My stomach churned as I watched her.

Mom opened a package of sheer light pink pantyhose. With a quick flip of her wrist she shook the silky fabric to unfold it. "First you have to roll the leg up to the toes like this," she explained as she demonstrated. Then she handed the dainty pantyhose to me to so I could attempt to duplicate her demonstration.

Nervously I did my best to mimic her effort. Apparently I did it well.

“Very good honey," she complimented. "Now raise your leg up and slip your toes inside. Then simply unroll and smooth the hose out as you roll it up your leg."

Carefully I followed her instructions and was amazed to feel how cool yet strong and soft the silky nylon felt as I slowly worked it up my leg. To my embarrassment I giggled at this new pleasing sensation. My blossoming girlishness was starting to show through.

"Stop there," mom said when I'd reached mid thigh. "Do the same with the other leg then stand and pull them up to snug the pantyhose about your waist."

Following her directions I quickly had my lower body encased in what my James persona thought of as a sheer nylon prison. A tremor of boyish horror swept through me but even as it ravaged me it became a shiver of delight. Tentatively I smiled at Mom as my Jamie persona took control. Encased in the sheer silky pink nylon my legs looked great... much too nice to be the wiry legs of a boy. I couldn't believe how my personalities were switching back and forth.

After another loving hug mom removed my half-slip from the bag. It was pink nylon too with a two inch hem of delicate lace. I shivered as I saw it... anticipation and fear combined as my James and Jamie personas fought for dominance. "Mom it's so short," I fearfully whispered.

"It's not that short... most girls your age wear them this length,” mom smiled reassuringly as she held the dainty half slip out for me. "Step into it dear."

I can't begin to describe the marvelous sensations that raced through my tense body as the soft nylon of the slip slithered up my nylon-encased legs. James hid while Jamie smiled. "Ummmmmm," was all I said as I caressed my buttocks and upper thighs which accentuated the marvelous feelings. The lace hem added to the pleasure as it tickled my thighs. I wondered how I’d be able to concentrate on anything having the teasing lace touching me at mid-thigh all day.

"I'm glad you like it," mom said. "You'll like this too." She held a matching camisole out to me. In addition to the lace hem this satiny creation had the entire bodice edged with an inch of matching lace.

I shivered in anticipation as my eyes glistened brightly. Stepping to mother she slipped this delight over my head. I thought I was in heaven as it settled down over my torso. The sensations emanating from the camisole as it caressed my body were just as nice as the sensations that had engulfed my upon donning the slip. The lace hem of the camisole flared out over the top of my half-slip. The lacy bodice rested upon the flesh of my budding breasts sent startlingly intense delightful shocks throughout my body. I felt warm and tingled all over. The pleasure center in my groin felt as if it was glowing. It shocked me as I realized I was getting turned on by all these delightful girlish frills! I couldn't help myself... I wrapped my arms about my chest and hugged myself smiling broadly.

"Yes, you're learning,” mom smiled happily. “Being a girl is a lot of fun. Our clothes turn
us on as much as it does the boys."

Startled I looked at Mom with fear showing in my eyes. "B....b....boys? You mean the boys are going to get...." I gazed down at my enticingly clad body to see my firm breasts rising and fallen with my labored breathing. Yeah, I thought, the boys sure will get turned on by this! "Mom, I can't wear this stuff,” I exclaimed in a near panic. “The guys will want to....to....you know!" There was more than a hint of desperation in my trembling voice.

Mom embraced me again. "Jamie, of course the boys will want you that way. It won't matter how you dress... they'll still imagine. You KNOW how they think. So you may as well learn to enjoy those things too."

I did know how guys think... that's what scared me. Heck, 5 weeks ago I was dreaming about girls... imagining what they looked like without their clothes on. Girls dressed like I was now....well... they made such lusty imagining that much easier.

"Tell me, James," mom asked pointedly. "Did you ever do more than imagine pretty girls? Did you ever try to get somewhere with one of them? I'm sure you used images of the prettier girls in your class in your masturbatory fantasies."

She was right of course but I wondered how she knew. Unfortunately I’d never done more than imagine making out with girls. To the best of my knowledge none of my buddies had done more than imagine getting it on with a girl. Sure we talked a lot about doing it with a girl but we were all too afraid to do more than that. I was sure I was now much more familiar with a girls cute body than any of my buddies. This bit of knowledge made me smile and I relaxed.

"That's better," mom soothed. "Now let's make sure your new shoes fit.” With that she removed a pair of shiny black leather Mary Janes from the bag. They looked just like the shoes dancers wear. Mom knelt before me, slipped them onto my nylon clad feet, and snugged the straps firmly across my insteps. “Walk about and see how they feel."

It'd been 5 weeks since I'd worn anything other then slippers. Before that I'd practically lived in sneakers. Now suddenly I had these light soft leather shoes on my feet. They felt good and were very comfortable. "They feel great," I told mom with amazement.

"I thought you'd like them," mom enthused. "Now for your skirt." With that she held up a knit polyester pleated pink miniskirt.

I looked at it and swallowed. "Mom... it's too short,” I exclaimed. “I can't wear that!"

Mom just smiled and held it out for me. "You said you were afraid the boys would be turned on by your pretty lingerie. This will cover your slip. Now let's get it on you.”

She was soon snugging the elastic waist about my tummy. It did cover my slip... but just barely. The pleats swirled gaily about my thighs accentuating my every movement while also giving anyone who might be looking at me a generous glimpse of my lacy slip. I blushed beet red as my James persona once more came out.

Next came a long-sleeved sweater. As soon as I saw it I knew I’d look great in it. I’d always loved seeing girls in tight angora sweaters. Now I was putting one on. It fit me like a glove. The pink fuzzy yarn molded itself about my perky budding breasts showing them off to whoever cared to look. Hoping for a reprieve I looked at mom but the look on her face showed she was delighted with my all too feminine appearance.

The final touches were pearl earrings for my recently pierced ears along with a matching necklace and bracelet. Lastly mom handed me a small black leather shoulder bag. I looked in the mirror stunned to see for myself that I was a very pretty girl... I was Jamie.

It was a warm early spring day as we left the hospital. Nervously I clutched my purse as we stepped outside in an effort to hide behind it. As we walked slowly to the car I was having trouble walking. Every tiny movement caused my delightfully girlish clothes to swirl about me. Every minute touch sent charged neurons racing to my brain. I was almost overwhelmed by the sensations.

Sensing my problem mom put her arm about my shoulders. "Relax, Jamie, you’ll get used to all those delightful sensations. Do you know what today is?"

I thought for a moment, "Yes, it's April 1st." When I realized her intent I began to giggle and she joined me. By the time we reached the car we were both breathless. I'd relaxed and the clothes felt quite comfortable. It hadn’t taken long for me to grow accustomed to the girlish pleasantness. April fools day... how appropriate for a foolish boy's emergence from a macho cacoon to blossom as a cute girl.

As we drove home Mom explained part of the monetary settlement to me. My parents and I were now quite well off financially... at least I liked that. Upon arriving home I discovered my bedroom had been completely redecorated in pinks and whites with ruffles and lace. My new life as a girl had begun in earnest.

The doctors advised that I spend a week at home adjusting to life as a girl before returning to school the following Monday. During that week my empty closet and dresser quickly filled with silky undies, lacy blouses, ruffled skirts, frilly dresses, and shiny shoes from the daily shopping trips mom and I made to the exclusive boutiques that catered to prissy girls. She wisely decided that at least for now I'd have only skirts and dresses in my new wardrobe. With each new purchase James faded and Jamie blossomed. I thrilled to the thought of wearing all those prissy frilly clothes. Mom had always dreamed of having a sugar and spice daughter but since I was an only child she’d never been able to indulge those desires.

To keep me from being too embarrassed about my unwanted gender change it was decided I'd be enrolled in parochial school instead of returning to my former school. I hated the girlish uniform... I’d wanted more ruffles and lace! Although the uniform was undeniably feminine I felt like a plain Jane in the pleated green plaid skirt, the ruffled lacy pink blouse, the green kneesox, and pink and grey saddle shoes. By this time my hair had grown out enough to be styled in a typical girls fashion. Bangs covered my forehead while the rest was parted down the center of my head and plaited into braids that ended at my perky breasts. Green plaid ribbons tied in bows held the braids together.

Do you think it was easy for me to become a girl? It was. Sure... I didn't want to become a girl but what could I do? I'd been physically changed into a girl and those female hormones swimming around inside me coupled with all those nice soft silky clothes didn't give my destroyed boyhood a chance. All the girlishness engulfing me just seemed so right and natural. How could any boy resist that? I couldn't and at times that made me feel bad. Being happy as a cute lass wasn't too bad during the day when I was busy but as I lay in bed each night...that's when the anguish hit me.

I suffered a lot of guilt. When the guilt became overwhelming I slipped back into my boyish daydreams to bolster my fading boyhood. I was back at the plate of my imagined ball game with the crowd booing my failure. I kept thinking of my three mistakes. STRIKE 1... STRIKE 2... STRIKE 3... and my boyhood was OUT! I’d been the best... the mighty James Miller... how could I fail in my dreams? The daydream which had always bolstered my flagging boyhood now depressed and frustrated me causing me to think of suicide as I trudged back to the bench dragging my useless BAT on the ground as the jeers and boos roared in my ears. I had never been a quitter. I knew there had to be something I could do to get out of this nightmare. Each night the game disappeared before I could find an answer. Then one night as the game began to fade in its usual manner I happened to glanced at the girl who followed me in the rotation as she approached the plate. It hit me then... she was the answer... it was so simple! James HAD struck out and now Jamie was coming to the plate! There were now 2 outs and she still had a turn at bat! It was a chance that would give me the ability to use a radically different approach to the plate. There would be no more macho posturing. I’d experienced and enjoyed the benefits of girlhood. My consciousness left my male body as James faded into obscurity as he trudged to the bench. My consciousness slipped easily into Jamie. As I approached the plate I noted that I was wearing a sassy pleated miniskirt which showed off my shapely legs and a snug sweater which accented my perky heaving breasts. Demurely I sidled up to the plate and smiled sweetly at the pitcher. This totally unnerved him and I saw his confidence slip away as he drank in my enticing teasing girlishness. It quickly became clear that he was befuddled by my girlishness. The umpire had to yell at him to pitch. As he shook himself back into awareness of the ball game he angrily threw the first pitch... a ball. My sweet smile and the fact I winked and blew him a kiss further ruffled his flagging confidence. The next pitch was also a ball. Again I smiled sweetly at him which further distracted him. I knew then I could do it. After all I just had two 'BALLS' go past me. As the third pitch came in I swung with all my girlish strength. CRACK! The ball easily sailed over the center of the outfield fence as I gaily skipped about the bases with my short skirt bouncing to reveal my lacy slip. I giggled all the way to home plate to score the winning run! The opposing players just watched my saucy show with their drooling mouths open.

I sat up in bed grinning as my satin sheets caressed my nylon nightie! I knew the answer! With my 2 balls gone all I had left was a 'crack' and it could easily handle any future 'balls' that might come its way. I knew pretty demure girls could handle males and life to their satisfaction if they're willing to use what they have.

I accepted my unwanted girlhood completely that night. I did incorporate my past as James in my feminine scheming. Because of James I know just how guys think, react, and what they want. As Jamie I've learned to use that knowledge to my full advantage. The boys at my parochial school fall all over themselves just for a smile from me. They're so easy to control. They think they're getting what they want while in reality I'm giving them only what I want to give and taking from them anything I want. Movies, small presents, and meals for now but when I’m older... who knows? I'm already quite capable of getting almost anything I want. I have Daddy wrapped about my pinky. Of course it helps that I keep reminding him the accident that led to my girlhood happened because I was trying to please him by being a chip off the block son. Mommy is quite pleased to have a sweet daughter to pamper which she does so to my sheer delight.

I had always hated anything feminine when I was a boy. Now I know it was because of a boy’s fear of the power girls wield by their use of things feminine. Now that I can wield that power I simply adore feminine things. I intend to lead a full feminine life.

So remember to be careful when you're in a hospital. If you're not you could lose. Or if you think like I do now... maybe you could win the SERIES if you don't BALK... by arranging for your own typo!

Girls play ball differently than guys!

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DIRECTORY:

James/Jamie Miller -12
Dad
Mom
Doctor
Specialist
Joan Miller - fellow patient in hospital with hormonal problems