Him-Lady and She-Males

Chapter 1 The Accident.

Thanks to cewesson for helping to edit this chapter.
Any mistakes are still my own!
Koalas

I hurt. It was nothing but pain in my groin. I looked up and saw the ceiling tiles. I must be in a hospital. I moved and groaned.

I saw my mother come over to me.

“Hello, dear. I am so happy to see you again.” She had tears in her eyes. I could tell now that I must have been here for a while.

“What happened?” I said.

“You had an accident dear. You were hit by a truck while on your motorcycle. You have been out for three days now. I thought that you would never come out of your coma.”

She started to cry. Mom never cried. It must have been some accident.

“Why do I hurt so much?”

“I’m sorry dear, but you were badly hurt. You almost died. Your dad and I had the doctor do some things just to keep you alive. You broke so many bones and other things. You just rest, dear; the surgeons will want to see you now that you are awake.”

I heard her but I could only think of the pain in my dick. “Mom, I hurt.”

My mom’s actions were almost instantaneous. She moved and pressed the call button. “I will get the nurse in here to increase the pain medication for you dear. The doctor said that you can have as much as you need to for the next week to help with the pain.”

The next week, but I had to play football next week. I was the quarterback. The team depended on me. “But what about the game I was in this Friday?” I asked.

“I am afraid that you won’t be playing anymore football anymore, dear” she said. “Your injuries were just too great, dear.”

“What happened to me?” I asked.

“You lost your penis and other things dear.” She said.

I fainted.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I woke up in pain. I could see the ceiling tiles above me. I groaned in pain. But the pain was a lot less. I saw my mom in a chair next to my bed asleep. On my chest was a big button. It didn’t take me long to press it.

About two minutes later a nurse came in.

“Yes dear, what do you need.” The nurse said.

“Could you give me some more drugs for the pain? It still hurts a lot but not as much as last time. So a little more would make it enough so that I can stand it, please?” I begged.

“The doctor said that you are going to hurt for a couple more days. So I’m going to give you just a little more. If that isn’t enough, you ring me again and we will keep giving you more. But you have to know that you are going to hurt for a while.”

“Thanks. How long have I been out?” I Asked.

“You’ve been here for about a week now.” She said.

“Did I really lose my dick?” I asked. I just had to know.

“Who told you that, dear?” she asked while she was changing the drip on the IV.

“My mom said it when I woke last time. So what happened to me?” I asked.

“Well, don’t you think that your mom or a doctor should tell you what happened?” She said.

“I know that you are right, but I just need to know.”

“I’m not supposed to tell patients things like that, but yes you had a lot of surgery down there. You almost died. I know that there was nothing left, so they couldn’t save it. You were in surgery for almost 14 hours. You need to talk to your mom about what happened. Let me wake her up for you. She’s hasn’t left your side for almost a week now. I am sure that she wants to talk to you.” She moved around to mom and touched her on the arm.

Mom moved with a jerk and opened her eyes at once. She glanced at the nurse and then looked at me. A smile was on her face at once.

“Good morning, dear. How do you feel?” she said.

I know that she didn’t want the real answer. Mom was always so polite.

“I am hurting a lot still, mom, but the nurse just turned up the pain drugs so I don’t think its going to hurt so much in a couple of minutes. The nurse woke you because she couldn’t tell me what happened to me.” I looked at her hoping what she said was not what I already imagined.

“You had an accident, dear. A truck ran a stop light and you hit it.” Mom said.

“What happened to my motorcycle?” I had to ask. I spent all last summer working to earn the money to pay for that cycle. It was my pride and joy.

“The insurance company said that the bike is totaled. You father has been talking to them all week. The truck’s insurance is going to pay for a replacement bike, dear. They also said that they are going to pay for all of your hospital bills. The truck driver was found to be drunk on the job. We are lucky that for that at least. The hospital bill so far is in the tens of thousands. You were in really bad shape. Your father thinks that the only reason that you survived was because you were in such great shape from playing football. Don’t be concerned about your motorcycle. You need to be concerned about getting well now. The doctor said that it’s going to be a month before the cast comes off your legs and longer just to walk and then run again. So all you need to do is just think about getting well.”

I could tell that she was nervous and very worried about me. Mom was like that. She was always concerned about people that needed help, help for food, or clothes, or anything else they might be in need of.

“The nurse said that she couldn’t tell me what was wrong or what happened. I don’t remember any thing from that day. I just remember getting up to go to school and even that is fuzzy.”

“Well, according to the police reports, a truck ran a stop sign across the street that you were on and you hit it from the side. That must have been what broke your left leg and arm. The police report said you must have flown about twenty feet and hit a metal post that was standing up. It went through you from the bottom up. There was nothing left down there for the doctors to fix. They had to remove your penis and testicles. Then your father and I with the doctors decided that the only thing that could be done was to make you look and work like a girl down there. I’m so sorry, son, but it was the only thing that could be done.” She was almost in tears.

She didn’t tell me that she and Dad had decided not to make me a sexless eunuch male. But mom held out to do only a partial sex change operation, and she always gets her way. The doctor wanted to go all of the way but mom wanted to only do the least necessary until I got use to it, and then finish it later. After all breasts could be added anytime. And at 17 and on the football team I was already too large to ever look like a real dainty and demure girl.

I knew that mom would always do the best for me. I sometimes didn’t like it, but I knew that mom did love me and looked out for me.

“Is it permanent?” I had to ask.

“Yes dear, it is. You might be able to get a false one made, but it would never function right. It would just be a false piece of meat there with no feeling and no function to it.”

I had wanted to know if I would ever be able to wank off again. But I was not going to ask anyone that question. So I asked next question that came to mind.

“What’s going to happen now?”

“You are going to spend time in the hospital for now. Then you are scheduled for some special training for a couple of months while you adjust. Then you are going back to go back and finish high school to get your diploma. Playing football in college is not an option anymore for you. Lots of football players get hurt and are not able to play anymore. You are one of them that got hurt and can’t play anymore. I’m really sorry I know how much that you love to play, but you are going to have to find something else now.”

I felt that there was something that she was afraid to tell me. It was like she was skirting an issue. I knew that no matter what this thing was that she wasn’t telling me, I would never get it out of her no matter what. But it was important and uppermost in her mind.

It was time to change the subject because I was not going to get anywhere now.

“What is this special training that I’m going to have to have?” I said.

“We’ll discuss that with the doctor today when he makes his rounds.” She said.

“But what is it that I have to strengthen that take two months of special training?” I asked.

“Not now, dear.”

I could see the tears well up in her eyes again. I think that I found what the issue was, it was about the special training, and something broke and they were not telling me about.

“What broke that you are not telling me about?” I had to ask. I was never one for keeping my mouth shut when I should.

“It’s nothing that is broke, dear. The doctors think that all of your bones are pinned together and are healing nicely and that you will be walking as soon as the cast come off. You are even scheduled to start therapy to strengthen your legs in two days now. The doctors are feeling great about the way you were coming along. The only problem was that you were in a coma for a couple of days. But then you came out of it, and they have just kept you drugged and asleep to avoid most of the pain. But the doctors said that you are coming around better than they expected after so bad an injury.” She was smiling.

That worried me more. “If nothing is broke then why do I need all of the special training? I’m good at getting in shape. After all you and dad gave me the garage for a work out room with all of the physical fitness equipment that I could want.”

“Your dad has stored all of that equipment in a Public Storage garage so that you wouldn’t be tempted to hurt yourself by overdoing it now. We know how good you are at training, and how easy it would be, for you to hurt yourself working out to soon. You are going to have to make some changes now dear. You are going to have to learn that you can’t do things that you use to do for a long while.”

“But mom, the coach has taught us a lot about how to build up your muscles. And the training schedules to get stronger after an injury on the field. I know that I can do it.” I said.

“That is exactly it, dear. You cannot build up your muscle again. Your condition means that you can never build up your muscles again. You are going to have to learn to how to make your muscles flex and bend. You are going to have to take acrobatics, and worry about how much you can flex, bend and be graceful, dear, not how much strength you can build up.”

I was getting tired but I knew that I had to find out what the special training was about.

“But then what is the special training for it’s not to build up muscles?”

“It’s to teach you how to be a girl,” She said with some finality.

“But I’m not a girl, mom”

“You are now. The operation made you one. And that is what the special training is about. It’s how to act like a girl. You have been a boy for 17 years. But you are not a boy any more. The operation has changed you into a girl. Now you have to have special training to learn to be a girl. You have to learn in two months what a girl learns in 17 years. It’s not your fault. But you have to learn to accept it. You have lost your dick; just think of yourself going into the locker room at school and stripping for a shower with the pussy you’ve got now. They guys would call you a faggot and beat you up. We have to protect you from that now.”

I had never heard mom speak with language like that. And she was getting mad. To say the least she shocked me.

“But mom, I’m a guy. The other guys will understand that I had an accident.” I said

“No they won’t dear. We have been warned about it. They will beat you to a pulp or even kill you in some alley. The difference between man and woman is a defined line. You have crossed that line. You are a woman now to everyone else. Like it or not you are stuck with it. So the special training is to get you to accept it and live with it. It’s going to be harder than any training for football than you’ve ever done. Football is only played for a little while. But you will have to play at being a girl every hour, every day of the week. We have spent hours and hours with the psychiatrist to learn what has to be done for you.”

I just looked at mom. She had to be crazy. There was no way that I was a girl. I was the quarterback for the football team. I wasn’t the most muscle-bound guy because I needed to be quick. But there was no way I would ever look like a girl.

“Mom, I’m a boy. I know that I have had an operation because of the accident but that doesn’t change who I am.” I said.

“Yes, we know that, dear, and we are all going to have to work on it. Me, your father, and you are all going to have to work on it. No one likes this dear, but we are all going to have to work at it.”

“But I’m not a girl, mom.” I was not going to be made into a girl simply because of an operation from an accident.

“Yes dear, we know how you feel. But people are born either a boy or a girl. In your case you have been reborn into a girl. We all know that you don’t like it and are going to hate it. But you don’t have any choice in the matter; no one can change what’s happened. After the bandages come off and you look at what it is between your legs, what will you see? Will you see a boy or will you see a girl. If you see a boy between your legs then you are a boy, but the things that make a boy a boy are not there anymore. You have girl things down there now, that makes you a girl. I think that you need to think about it for a while. We know that you are going to have a hard time with the change. We have taught you for 17 years that you are a strong boy and now we are all going to be faced with the reality that you are now a girl. You can act like a boy, but that’s not what is best for you according to the psychiatrist. So special training has been arranged to help you accept that you are a girl now and to teach you the things that girls have already learned and you need to learn.” She finished while looking at me.

“But mom, I’m a boy.” I said.

“Yes dear, we know you think that, but you need to think about what the operation did to you. We didn’t have an option, and you don’t either now. It was either change you, or let you die. And we love you too much to let you die. Dying was not an option now, nor is it in the future. Dear, look at me. We have been told that you might try to commit suicide in the future. No one wants that for you. We have done everything that we can to keep you alive. Your father and I and a lot of other people are going to be around just to help you adjust. We know that you are tough. But how tough are you? Are you tough enough to see this through? Playing football was easy compared to what’s going to happen in the future. Football was only physical; this is going to be mental. It’s going to rip you apart again and again. Are you tough enough to take it and give more just like in football? Can you do it? Look at me. I want your word that you are going to survive. I want your word that this operation is only a set back to yourself. I want your word that you will overcome it just like you would any football accident. Can you give me your word that you are tough enough to succeed at this?”

“Yes mom, I’m tough enough to succeed.” I said.

“No, I want a yes mom I will survive and I will succeed at this and anything else I try,” Mom said.

I said, “Yes mom, I will survive and I will succeed at this and anything else I try.”

“Do you mean it, dear?”

“I don’t feel like it right now, Mom.” I said.

“Yes dear, that is the point. You are not going to feel like it a lot for a while. But everyone knows that and everyone knows that you are able to. It’s OK to not feel like it, but it’s not OK to fail. We have been talking to the psychiatrist for the past week. We know that it is going to be a hard journey. And especially for you because we have for 17 years been making you into a man’s man. And now very quickly we are going to have to make you into a girl against everything that you know to be right. But I know my child, and I know that my child can do it because we have taught you to be tough. But now you have to be tough of mind, and not of body. Do you understand me, dear?”

“Yes mom, I understand you. I don’t like it, but I understand you.” I said. The wonderful thing about mom was that she had always wanted to know my feelings about things. We both understood that we can agree to disagree as she always put it.

“OK The first thing is that you are no longer Alvin, you are a girl and there are no girls named Alvin. So your father and I have decided to name you Alice. It’s close to your name but Alice can not be considered a boy’s name and you are a girl now whether you or we like it.”

“I don’t want to change my name,” I said.

“Yes dear, nobody wants to have to make you change your name. But the truth is that you will be a girl now, and you need a girl’s name, do you know any girls named Alvin? If you do, we will leave you with the name Alvin.” She paused while I was thinking, “I thought not. So the psychiatrist said that the first thing that you have to do is change your name. Alice was the name that we were going to call you if you were born a girl. Well you are now reborn 17 years late so now your name is Alice. Welcome to your new world, Alice.”

We then talked about all of the changes that she and Dad had been making . . . for my own good of course. She wanted me to know things that were being done and why.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No one saw the doctor come in while we were in a, shall we say, heated discussion about the things that had to be done. None of which I wanted and all of which my mom said had to be done.

Painting my room pink and getting rid of all of my male clothes and stuff was under discussion. I had agreed to paint my room pink in exchange for keeping some male cloths and starting to wear some female pants and shirts when she told me to. Not that I had any say in the matter, as she pointed out she could just have nothing but dresses when I got home. So I was happy with the slight consideration of my mom and not doing the complete immersion as was suggested by the psychiatrist. At least for a while as she laid it on the line that my old boy clothes would be going at some point in the future no matter what I said.

The doctor wanted to look under the bandages. I wanted to look also so the doctor had me call for a nurse. When the nurse got there he sent her out for a mirror so that I could see.

“What you are going to see is a lot of swelling. Everything is going to be black and blue. It’s like looking at any wound before it heals. So don’t expect it to look pretty. But I think that seeing that we had to remove your penis will help you accept your operation. I know you don’t like the results, but keeping the penis was not an option. There was not enough to even build a  ½ inch one. So we took the nerve endings and tucked them inside you.”

“Please don’t go out and have sex next week, but one of these days you will be able to. And you will be able to feel good physically about it. Now you can hear the bad news. We had to rearrange your plumbing down there. You are also going to have to keep this new opening you have open by sticking something inside yourself a couple of times a day. It is going to be painful for a couple of weeks or more. But after then it will start to feel better. After a few months you should be able to even climax from it. But I cannot guarantee it. When you came in we were more worried about keeping you alive as your mom told you. The part of the operation to change your plumbing was more of a cosmetic nicety after we knew that you would live, more than anything else. I know that you will be seeing the psychiatrist for a long time. Listen and learn her. There have only been a few cases where boys were changed into girls against their will because of an accident. And those people have had a hard time of it. You mother has been fighting for you to be made aware of what is going to happen to you, usually, your not being told what they are until they are forced upon you. So listen to your mother she knows you better than anyone else except the psychiatrist that is here to help you adjust. “

“You are progressing better than we had hoped. Your physical conditioning for football might be what saved your life. My only advice is give up riding a motorcycle, it’s been bad for your health. I’ll see you every day as I switch the bandages until we can keep them off.”

It had looked like I had been through a meat grinder. There was hundreds and hundreds of stitches down there. And it was black and blue from almost my knee to the middle of my belly. I had never looked at a real girl’s pussy, so I had no idea if that was what one looked like or not.

After the doctor left I thought about what he said.

“Mom, the doctor said that this has happened before. Do you think that there is a support group of the people this has happened to?”

“Well, we can ask the psychiatrist when you meet her.”

“Mom, how often do boys get changed into girls?”

“I have been told a lot more than people realize. A big problem is that most boys who want to change into girls can’t afford it so they get changes made that are visual in nature first. This operation that you just had is too costly for many of them to get. When you get home you will have a lot of time on your hands, so you can go onto the Internet and find out your answers. In fact that would be a good idea. You will find that most of them are not exactly beauty queens I bet, but it might give you a support group that you want. I don’t think that you will find anyone that has had this operation that didn’t want it. It’s rare to have to have it done. They would hide because it would be too embarrassing for them.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I started daily physical therapy in two days like my mom had said. The first time I stood to walk I passed out. Physical therapy was painful but I felt like I was getting somewhere. By the end of the week I could walk with crutches. One of the crutches had a platform to be strapped to my broken arm. The best I could do was a slow hobble. I was always grateful when I got back to the room afterward.

Then the day came when I was finally able to go home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The doctor had come in very early that day to take off the bandages for the last time. He warned me that the stitches would stay in for weeks still. He also said that I would have scars on my belly for the rest of my life.

My mother finally came in with my cloths. It was girl’s skirt and a blouse. I knew that I didn’t have a choice as to what I was going to wear for a while. The psychiatrist had made it clear that she wanted me to be only wearing skirts for the next couple of years until I became acclimated to being a girl. And rebellion would only cause the skirts and dresses to get shorter with more lace and be more feminine. So I was glad that my mom allowed me a long baggy skirt that looked like pants to just cover the casts that were still on my legs. And even if the blouse buttoned up the wrong side it was still white and not pink. But mom had assured me that she did have some very lovely pink blouses if I didn’t behave to go with some mini skirts that she had in the bag. I didn’t know if she meant it or not, with the smile on her face.

I had to take the wheelchair ride out to the car. I never understood why you had to ride in the wheelchair if you were able to walk or in my case hobble on your own. It seemed to me that if you needed a wheelchair then you should be going into the hospital, not out of it. Getting into the car was another matter. I had to sit first and then slide in till I could get my legs in. I was not limber enough to get in like I use to, and mom said that from now on I would have to get in butt first, and then slide in my legs. It was one of the new female rules that she had started for me. The first one was that I had to sit on the toilet. As if I now had any other way of doing it anymore. Standing up with my new plumbing would not be any fun cleaning up the mess afterwards. Unless I was sitting on top of the urinal lip and hugging it so close that my pee that I could control the direction of, most times, to go forward would be caught going while going down my legs. Not that I’m sure that it still wouldn’t go all over the place as it ran all over my legs getting out. So this was just another rule to add to the books. I should have been numbering them. There had been so many of them that I lost count. But mom hadn’t, she was constantly catching me with an “I told you that you have to . . . like a lady does it”