Smoke Valley Ranch was a place for people to get away from things. For me, it was a place to get away from boyhood.

The Ranch, by Karin Bishop

Part 8

Chapter 20 — Getting Right Down To It

“So …back to today,” Dr. Mahmoudi said. “One of the most important areas for you will be socialization, integrating into everyday society as a female. You’ve pretty much done that, but on a limited basis.”

Dr. Morrison added, “There’s an additional benefit with your entry into the program. You’re in a rather isolated situation, living on the ranch. I understand that once your tourist season starts, you’ll be coming into contact with more people, but probably not for any length of time. And again, it will be under unusual circumstances, with limited interaction.”

Dr. Mahmoudi reassured me, “There’s no doubt that anybody seeing you will take you for a typical girl; that’s not the socialization that’s important for you. We’re talking about peer socialization.”

Jackie said, “Girlfriends.”

Dr. Mahmoudi nodded and Dr. Morrison said, “Right. Unfortunately, there’s no way a clinic can ‘prescribe’ girlfriends, but your time here–three to five days at a time, I would imagine–will give you a greater chance to meet other teenagers.”

I must have looked confused, because Dr. Mahmoudi chuckled and said, “Don’t worry; it’s not wall-to-wall testing, morning noon and night; you’ll have plenty of downtime. Time to spend with your mother, or go to the mall, or even do some work.”

Dr. Morrison said, “Many long-term clinicians–the term we use, although not accurate–take small jobs to combat boredom. They work as volunteers, like candy-stripers, or work in the gift shop. We had a cranial injury clinician who was a fantastic baker and created specialty goodies that we still serve in the restaurant! So there will be opportunities for meeting lots of new people, and many your age. The one thing we don’t want is for you to hide yourself in your room when you’re here. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “Although being with my mom is my first priority.”

“I fully understand–but it will be subject to my medical discretion, alright? We both want her to heal as fully and quickly as possible. And I think having you here will help tremendously.”

There was a general feeling of Great Things Accomplished; a moment of silence all around. Then Dr. Mahmoudi completely took me in a new direction.

“I mentioned a procedure earlier. It’s an option that is usually considered after several months of clinical work, but I think under the circumstances we can dispense with that, with Dr. Morrison’s approval, of course.”

He looked at her and nodded.

“I have already examined your genitalia, what was visible,” Dr. Mahmoudi smiled. “And extensively photographed it. There is little need for further examinations–with one exception, but I’ll have to come to that later, in sequence.”

I noticed Dr. Morrison had been about to object, and I think she saw it coming and added the exception. It seemed to satisfy him; he nodded again.

Dr. Mahmoudi said, “The areas of our concern are internal, chemical, and psychological. As I said earlier, you will undergo extensive scanning with different methods. Chemically, we will be taking samples of blood, urine, saliva, bowel and penile excretions of any kind. I know; kind of gross, huh?” She grinned.

“Well, the bowel thing, obviously,” I grinned back. “And I’ve never had any penile excretions that I know of, beyond urine. But anything can happen. And I understand you need to monitor my chemistry closely.”

“Yes; we’re very interested in your endocrine system, and I’ll be quite honest with you, Laurie–we’re going to tinker.” She grinned again. “We’re going to try different things on you; hormones, compounds, all sorts of things.”

“As long as I don’t grow hair all over, a deep voice, and start watching ESPN!” I teased.

There was general laughter–a little embarrassed from Dr. Morrison, but he went along.

Dr. Mahmoudi nodded, “Your sense of humor will be valuable to you, and to us. In fact, it’s one way we’ll be able to monitor our third area of concern, the psychological. Lots of tests–and yes, inkblots!–and you won’t believe how many questions you’ll be asked. At some point, whether from fatigue, our chemical tinkering, or other reasons, you may lose that sense of humor, and we’ll need to chart that. And we’ll work to get it back, because you really are delightful!”

They all smiled at me and it was my turn to be a little embarrassed. “I’m not …doing anything. I mean, trying to be funny or anything.”

Jackie said, “If I may step in here? Laurie, you are a naturally sunny girl. You have a–scratch that; I withdraw what I said the way I said it. From my limited contact with you over the years, and your mother’s reports to me, I’ve got to say that Laurence was not known for a sense of humor. We’ve been talking all around this so I don’t need to go into it again, but in a nutshell, Laurence was unhappy and didn’t quite know it–or at least as happy as a typical boy. We know why, of course. And since you finally relaxed and Laurie came out, there’s that delightful sense of humor Dr. Mahmoudi referred to. It’s a mark of your happiness.”

Dr. Morrison said, “I believe it’s also a mark of a fuller person. I’m no psychologist, but from all the anecdotal evidence, it seems fair to say that Lauren Kenyon is a more complete person–persona, I guess the psychologists would say–than Laurence Jamison. Quite literally, two different people. But one was closed in and unhappy and the other is cheerful and outgoing and I’ll turn the floor back to Dr. Mahmoudi.”

She grinned and nodded. “Thank you, doctor. So we’re all on the same page, now? Internal, chemical, and psychological examinations?” We all nodded in agreement and she smiled. “And little to no need to monitor the penis itself. I’ve got my photos and my examination notes from today as a reference. And because we don’t need to monitor it, even though we’ve only just met you, we have an option open that would not be available to us under the usual circumstances.”

Dr. Mahmoudi then described a ‘simple’ procedure involving placing the testicles back up inside the abdomen–but since they were already there, it wasn’t needed–then carefully tucking the penis back and using surgical glue to actually glue it to the perineum–now that I knew the word for ‘the taint’. The now-empty scrotal sacs hang on either side of the penis and are fashioned and glued in place and wind up looking like vaginal lips. The whole process was non-surgical, could be performed in a doctor’s office, was reversible and therefore could be performed on minors. The doctor had said she didn’t need to monitor my penis any further, but with one ‘exception’; the penis-monitoring exception referred to periodic examinations, when they would ‘undo’ everything, clean and examine the area, and restore the penis back up against the perineum.

“If you were to have this procedure done, Laurie, you would look like a biological girl through all of your clothes, including bikinis, and even naked–frontally, of course. We’ve had patients that had this procedure that shower with other women at their health clubs and nobody has ever detected a thing. Virtually zero chance of discovery unless you’re getting …extremely intimate with someone.”

“And that’s not going to happen for a long, long time!” Jackie cracked.

Laughs all around, and I had some questions. “Is there a possibility you won’t be able to do it? And even if you can, does it interfere with later surgery? Oh, and peeing …?”

“Peeing is not a problem. The penis is directed so the flow of urine is similar to a biological female’s. Oh, you have to sit, of course, but you probably already do. And a very good question–there have been cases where we couldn’t perform–” She raised a hand at the start of my objection. “Hold on! I know you’re worried, but those cases shouldn’t apply to you, because they were in mature adult males with fully formed genitalia. In one case, a quite large endowment; the penis exceeded the length of the perineum. But I have examined you and measured and you’re well within the successful size range, and your penis is not fully functional or anywhere near the size for a typical boy your age. Okay?” I nodded, swallowing. Dr. Mahmoudi went on crisply. “The most important factor will be the ability to urinate. Secondary is any discomfort, but that’s sorted out right away. There is also the matter of cleanliness, and we’ll teach you some hygiene precautions.”

“Wipe front to back?” Jackie grinned.

Dr. Mahmoudi smiled. “Always. And it’ll be good for her to get in the habit now, before reassignment surgery. And to answer your other question, with this procedure, there’s no problem with later reassignment surgery, either. Ah, I can see that that relaxed you!” She grinned at me.

“I was …concerned. Because now that I know who I am, I don’t want to do anything that will cause problems.”

“Quite understandable. Now, have I answered your questions?” She smiled.

I felt such relief at her confidence, and nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Mahmoudi.”

She smiled and then frowned. “One thing that I don’t think will apply in your case, but it must be mentioned. The procedure uses a physician’s technique combined with surgical glue, but the glue can be dissolved with a special solvent that can be applied by the patient, although this has never happened. If there was a sudden medical emergency, for instance. If you needed it released and you were back at your ranch and in immediate distress and couldn’t make the two-hour drive. But if you could make it here, it would be better to wait.”

“God, I hope that never happens!” I said fervently.

“You and me, both,” she nodded. “But the fact that it is reversible is crucial. The prohibition or proscription on reassignment surgery for minors is specifically because it’s irreversible surgery. There are claims that it’s to allow for the minor to grow old enough to make a more mature decision, but it’s primarily the nature of the surgery. The … amputation.”

She gave me a direct look, probably to see if the word bothered me.

It didn’t. I shrugged. “That’s what it is. And like any other weird growth that doesn’t belong on my body, I have no problem amputating it and getting on with things.”

That brought a big smile. “Good girl! There are cases of minors scheduled for reassignment surgery who hesitate or cancel at the last minute. But it’s my own personal experience–remember that, this concerns my own patients–that when properly screened, and after experiencing life after the procedure, there has been no hesitation whatsoever.”

“Probably just a desire for the surgery date to be moved up,” I smiled.

Dr. Mahmoudi chuckled. “Absolutely right! As I suppose you will have the same desire!”

“Oh, I do already!” I laughed with her.

Dr. Morrison said, “The fact that the procedure can be reversed is what allows us to perform it on a minor. With parent or guardian consent, of course.”

“You have my consent,” Jackie said promptly. “You want Evie’s? Because I know she’ll consent, as well.”

Dr. Morrison smiled. “Actually, we already have it. And yours completes it. The hospital is satisfied that this is a procedure with full consent of all parties.”

That sounded great! I knitted my brow. “Let me see if I’ve got all this, in no particular order: First, I understand the how. The end result is that I could stand naked, feet apart, and anybody looking at me–girls, women, of course–would see only a normal girl’s vagina?”

Dr. Mahmoudi held up two fingers. “Two small changes. Try to avoid using ‘normal’; it’s not for political correctness–it just doesn’t apply. ‘Biological’ is better. We often say ‘GG’ meaning a ‘genetic girl’–except that you are genetically a girl–and genetically a bit male, too! That’s what makes you so interesting …not that you’re not interesting as a person, too, because you are. And even the ‘genetic girl’ term seems on its way to be replaced by an odd one, ‘cisgender’. There’s a lot of controversy …” She waved a hand. “Not important right now. Where was I? Oh, and you asked that they’d see only your ‘vagina.’ Again, I’m getting technical and nit-picky here, but I think it’s important. No woman can look at a standing woman and see her vagina. What she can see are the lips of the vulva which vary from woman to woman …and pubic hair, of course, unless it’s shaved. The vagina is hidden, tucked away and protected by the vulva.”

She grinned. “But I know the substance of your question, and the answer is that you would have the typical mound–the mons veneris–and appearance of vulval lips of a …from birth female, and no dangling penis. I just mentioned pubic hair; I know that shaving is fashionable among some girls. Even though you may have girlfriends that are bald down there, I would recommend against it, but not for sanitary reasons. Lauren, your pubic hair–what we call your ‘escutcheon’–is already within the norms for a female. So keeping your pubic hair will further your presentation as a female. Oh, you could trim, if you wish.”

Jackie leaned over and playfully said, “But no topiary, young lady!”

Everybody laughed, and then Dr. Mahmoudi went on.

“You will pretty much look like any other girl, with your feminine pubic hair and the appearance of vulval lips. Any girls looking at you would only be able to see something different if they saw you exposed and spread wide, from directly underneath, such as in a stirrup chair. And bear in mind that the female vagina varies widely in appearance, anyway. No two vaginas look the same, and some are downright odd looking, while others are textbook. Any girl familiar with other naked girls–pretty much every girl from high school age on up–will already be aware of that. Remember that looking straight ahead, full-frontal as in high school showers, you will look unremarkably like any other girl. The most important thing about this procedure is that it gives you confidence and virtually eliminates any chance of discovery.”

“Yes, thank you. Okay, I thought I was done with questions but I just thought of one that probably should have been first: Does my insurance cover this?”

Both doctors nodded. “Under the terms we present to them, insurance is not an issue while you’re in the program,” Dr. Morrison said. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” I turned and grinned at Jackie, who was smiling. “How long do I have to wait before I can get this done?”

Dr. Mahmoudi grinned back at me and turned to Jackie. “Your plan is to return to your ranch straight away? A two-hour drive?”

Jackie said, “Yes, a tad longer if we get caught in commuter traffic leaving town. And if we stop for dinner somewhere, so about three hours door-to-door if I don’t push it.”

Dr. Morrison looked at Dr. Mahmoudi. “Anna?”

“I don’t see why not. And the timing works, with a little help. Alright,” she said, facing me. “Lauren, Jackie …here’s what I propose; tell me what you think. First, you might want to visit the restaurant here in the hospital; it’s more than a cafeteria. Have a meal or a snack, but come to my office on the sixth floor, 6107, in one hour. That will give me time to have the suite prepared. I’ll use a local anesthetic, but I’d like to add something else that will make Lauren pretty well stoned for the drive home.”

“Wait a minute!” I almost shouted. “You can do it today?”

“Well …yes. I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“Yes! Absolutely! Um …Jackie?” I turned to my aunt. “Is this doable?”

She nodded. “You bet. I’ll call Carl and tell him we’ll be home …when we get there. I think this is important for you. But doctor, will she be in pain on the long drive?”

“Shouldn’t be. As I said, she’ll be pretty groggy for about two hours, which will take her about half-way through your trip, so it will probably make her perception of the drive much shorter. She’ll have been anesthetized–there’s some tugging involved in the procedure but no cutting or healing–and she’ll have pain meds for the ride home and tonight. I don’t anticipate any pain, but it’s mainly to deal with discomfort for the drive. A good night’s sleep and she’s ready for a thong!”

“A tho–!” I gasped.

Dr. Mahmoudi was having way too much fun with this. “You bet! And why not? Okay, you might not be a thong-kind ‘o gal, but certainly you can wear any bikinis with complete confidence, starting tomorrow.”

“Aunt Jackie?”

“Go for it, Laurie …only don’t wear a thong; you’ll give Carl a heart attack!” We all laughed, and Jackie went on. “One question; I think everything’s been answered but we have clothes to change into for the drive home.”

“That’s fine, but I would recommend a skirt; no shorts or jeans,” Dr. Mahmoudi said.

I nodded. “I packed a denim skirt and a tank top. Is that okay?”

“Fine. You can change before or after the meal. And by the way, the meal is just a recommendation because it’s the middle of the afternoon and you might not want to deal with a restaurant on the drive back, until everything wears off.”

Jackie and I decided to go get our things from the car and get changed; that way I couldn’t spill anything on my pretty white dress but we’d also have time to relax after the meal. It was kind of a fun adventure following Jackie into a Ladies’ Lounge in the Visitors’ Area. I’d only been in Ladies’ rooms in more public places and was surprised at the couch and the plush appointments. Jackie grinned and told me I’d get used to it.

I changed and hung up the dress and put the sandals in a bag. I made a mental inventory: I wore flip-flops, a gaff, panties, skirt, white bra and yellow camisole top, earrings, necklace and now the new ID bracelet. Some makeup and the remains of my morning cologne. Just a typical girl’s inventory. Basically, remove it all and I still felt like a girl, except for one thing–that penis between my legs. It wasn’t just not having to wear the gaff, and not being worried about something flopping out …it was more. I absolutely knew now that I wanted the penis gone, and while I was going to have to wait for full surgery for my true vagina–the vagina I should have had since birth–then so be it. At least that single reminder of boy would be gone, if this procedure was as good as Dr. Mahmoudi said.

After putting everything in the car we went to the restaurant and weren’t steered wrong–the décor was plush and the food was excellent. We both had salads but I also had a wonderful soup. We chatted a bit about Mom’s condition and some other things, and then I swirled the ice in my tea as I thought about how to begin.

“Aunt Jackie, are you okay with this?”

“Geez, so formal …Aunt she calls me,” she joked as she fished for a crouton. “Yes, honey, I’m okay with this. I’m actually not sure what ‘this’ you’re referring to–the program, the procedure, the delayed drive home, whatever–but I’m more than okay with this. All of it, I mean.”

“Thank you,” I said in a small voice. “For everything.”

“Of course,” her smile was in her voice. “You’re my favorite niece!”

“Well …” I paused dramatically. “I guess it’s time for me to get stoned.”

Her guffaw turned heads in the restaurant.

Chapter 21 — The New Road Home

We appeared at Dr. Mahmoudi’s sixth floor office and signed a few more documents. I was taken to a small surgical suite next to her office and given a shot by a nurse. While it was taking effect, Dr. Mahmoudi came in and briefed us. I had the option of completely stripping and wearing a surgical gown, but it wasn’t necessary. It was decided I would remove my skirt and panties–and gaff, never to be worn again, I hoped–and climb up on the chair, putting my feet in the stirrups, while draped in a sheet from my waist down. Dr. Mahmoudi said I could say good-bye to my penis if I wanted to–she said some patients did–but I told her I didn’t really want to think about it, even that little bit.

I looked her in the eye and said, “You and I both know that things should have worked out differently when I was born and I never should have had the thing!” I couldn’t tell if the drugs were taking effect or not, but it needed to be said and her nod told me she agreed.

It was exhilarating being in the stirrup chair. As we’d all discovered, I’d been in them before and had never made the connection that it was an experience only women had. Maybe there was some reason why a man would be examined in a stirrup chair, but it was primarily a female experience, and that’s why I was exhilarated–because now I knew. It was a feminine world that I was entering and I welcomed it. Unlike my previous exams, this time Dr. Mahmoudi adjusted the stirrups as wide as possible, telling me to stretch my knees as wide until I could feel the limit in my crotch. She tightened the stirrups and sprayed me with something cool, then colder, and then I felt nothing below the waist.

About this time the shot really kicked in and I was afraid to say anything for fear I might slur and drool–I was that loaded. Everything was fuzzy and fine and warm and comfy. I could feel Jackie holding my hand and I think I gave idiot answers to anything she asked. I could feel a pressure tugging me this way and that, and pressure pushing in, and then I was told to pee–I understood at least that much!–and some more fiddling down below and I tried to think of ranch logos but couldn’t and kind of drifted off. Finally, I felt the stirrups loosen and my legs coaxed back together. The doctor wiggled my knees this way and that and I giggled and I tried to cover my mouth with my fingers but kind of splayed them on my chin, and then somehow I was more or less vertical and Jackie and the doctor were pulling panties up my legs, followed by my skirt.

“Aw, no fair,” I giggled. “I wanted to see my pretty va…my vulvulvul …”

“How much did you give her, doc?” Jackie joked.

“She’ll be like this for another hour or so, depending on her metabolism. You’ve got the meds if there’s any pain. But her reaction is interesting.”

“Imderessing?” I mumbled. “I’m …imderessing?”

I heard Jackie laugh as Dr. Mahmoudi said, “The fact that you said ‘pretty’ and the implications …”

At that point I lost the thread and was placed in a wheelchair and there was this whoosh of air and bodies moving past and an elevator that made my tummy funny and several guys in white kind of pushing and pulling and one was cute and then I was in the passenger seat of our car and Jackie was driving us away.

I’ve never been stoned. One Christmas, Mom shared some wine with me; it was a lonely time and just the two of us around the small tree and I got giggly. And I’d had that glass of red wine that Carl had given me. But I hadn’t had any surgeries that I remembered so I had no background with anesthesia and our dentist didn’t even use gas.

Wow.

It wasn’t a good feeling, like something I’d like to try again. Part of my mind didn’t like the loss of control and kept screaming at the other part to just shut up and sleep. But it was …clinically interesting, you could say, to be sloppy and fuzzy. Then I slept.

Maybe it was the sleep or whatever, but I was jostled awake by the movement of the car and I was clear-headed. I let out a whoosh of air and turned to Jackie, who glanced at me and smiled.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she chuckled.

“How long …where are we?”

“About an hour still to go. You’ve been sleeping for awhile; best thing for you.”

She focused on the road and there was something she didn’t tell me …

“Um …Jackie? I didn’t embarrass myself too much, did I?” I asked sheepishly.

She chuckled again. “Not unduly. But not anything I could blackmail you with.” An evil grin. “I do wish I’d had a tape recorder, though!”

“You said you couldn’t blackmail me!” I protested.

“No, no; I wanted you to listen to yourself, the things you said. They might have been …illuminating.”

I was mortified. “Oh, God; Jackie …what did I say? Can you tell me? Please?”

“You want the unvarnished truth?” She leaned over and kind of leered at me.

I realized she was only half joking. But I had to know …“Uh-huh. Warts and all.”

Keeping her eyes on the road the whole time, she said, “Well, you giggled about the guys who put you in the car. You said one of them was cute and you wouldn’t mind going out with him. Then you said you didn’t want to do that; you wanted to be true to Mark. You talked about how the kisses made you feel.”

“I told that to Dr. Mahmoudi.”

“Yes, but you went into more detail about how your breasts felt, and how you wanted him to touch them so you could feel even more. You did a whole giggling fit about how much you love having breasts–oh, this was after the guys put you in the car and we were alone–and you even said you really, really, really wanted to experience a baby sucking at them. That one surprised me; we’ve never talked about children before, you and I.”

“I’ve never even …thought about it before,” I said, amazed.

“Well, part of your mind has,” Jackie pointed out. “What was coming out under the anesthetic were things you’ve been thinking about without thinking about; things on the subconscious level that never quite broke through to your consciousness. Maybe they were being processed in dream time, but it’s more likely that part of your mind–most likely we should call it ‘the Laurence mind’–suppressed them. You were so busy dealing with the day-to-day experience of having breasts that your mind didn’t want to deal with …well, it didn’t want to deal with what you’d do with your breasts. Because you also talked about wanting to wear prettier clothes, low-cut tops and slinky dresses and how much you loved being a girl.”

She paused and glanced at me with a warm smile. “Actually, that’s the main thing that came out, and it should reassure you that even loaded on a kind of truth serum, you still love being a girl. There wasn’t any Laurence struggling to get out. You’re all girl, honey. Dr. Mahmoudi thought it was very interesting–this was just when you checked out on us. She said it was very interesting that when you got off the stirrup chair, you ‘wanted to see your pretty va…’ and then you were gone. But the doctor was impressed with your reaction. She said it was an indisputably feminine reaction, to want to see your vagina, and calling it ‘pretty’ …Oh, sweetie, I was so proud and happy for you, but you were so out of it! You tried saying something or other. And then you giggled at something, said, ‘I just wish Mom …’ and went out like a light.”

“Well, I just wish a lot of things for Mom. I wish she’d never been hurt. I wish she’d get better fast with no pain. I wish I could be with her. I love you and Carl, but … ‘I want my mommy’, I guess. And I’d especially wish that she could watch me become her daughter.”

“Oh, she is watching that, in her way. Remember the time compression from the induced comas; it’s like stop-action movies for her. She’s seen you go from ambiguous to lovely in record time.”

For some reason that made me blush. “Yeah, but I’d still like to share it with her.”

“I understand, Laurie. I wish you could, too, but I’m honored and pleased to be able to watch your development myself.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said, “Um …you’re welcome?”

We chuckled at the inadequacy of the remark, then Jackie asked, “How do you feel?”

I was squirming slightly in my seat. “Like I got kicked. Really. I know she said they’re be some ‘tugging’ but, wow. I feel like somebody kneed me in the nuts …”

Realizing what I’d just said, I quickly added, “As the boys say.” I giggled briefly. “And that wasn’t a drug-induced giggle–that was me even saying something boyish like that.”

Jackie nodded. “I understand, though. It’s a remark you heard around you, when you were Laurence; just the way guys talk. But let me tell you, it’s no walk in the park for girls if they get kneed down there!” She laughed. “I remember field hockey in high school …” She waved a hand. “Ancient history. Anyway, that sense of getting kicked? When your testicles basically went back up the canal from which they descended, it was probably a tight squeeze when they first went in. But there’s only so far you could get them in with your fingers. To really do it right, it had to be under anesthesia and with an interesting gadget the doctor used. Now they are …fully replaced, to use your word. Dr. Mahmoudi said they went all the way up. Your tummy okay?”

“I forget that you were a nurse sometimes; I just was thinking ‘wow, she’s psychic.’ Yes, my lower tummy feels kind of bloated and kind of punched. Well, just like I got kneed …” I looked out the window. “It’s funny to think that you can so easily disable a big strong man with a knee between the legs, while it’s not as crippling to a woman. Field hockey excepted, of course!”

“Oh, of course!” Jackie chuckled. “You’ll find there are many more ways women are stronger than men–and we don’t let them know.”

“I hope you will teach me.” Adopting a silly foreign movie accent, I said, “Please make me wise in the ways of women, oh great master.”

“Mistress–get it right!” Jackie cackled.

We both laughed and then she asked if I wanted to stop or wait until we got back to the ranch.

“I was going to ask for that. Aside from feeling slightly battered, I think I have to pee. It’s kind of hard to tell how much is me and how much is the anesthetic. And I’m kind of hungry, but I can wait. And I need to stretch, even if you don’t.”

“Oh, I do, believe me. Stretch and pee and let me ask you; are you up to sitting in a booth at a restaurant?”

“Absolutely, after a trip to the Ladies’ room.”

“And …?” She asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

I grinned. “And seeing …what I can see. Or can’t see, or …well, just looking.”

She nodded. “I’m surprised you’re not pulling your panties down right now! We’ve got an off-ramp with a Denny’s and Chevron station on it in a few miles. Hold on ‘til then and you can have your grand unveiling.”

I was already nervous with anticipation at the prospect of seeing myself, and now I was almost twitching with anticipation–or maybe I just had to pee!

Finally the ramp appeared; we gassed up first because we always keep the ranch vehicles topped off as much as possible and I knew this was the last stop before home. The gas couldn’t go in fast enough for me; I was feeling an overwhelming urge to, as Jackie put it, pull my panties down right now. Well, and to pee, too! Once the gas was paid for, we drove across the street to Denny’s. We entered and immediately went back to the restrooms. We were lucky; being the middle of the day there were few people in the restaurant and nobody in the Ladies’ room. I went to the larger handicapped stall and closed the door. Jackie went into the stall next to me. Then I thought about it and unlocked the door.

“Jackie,” I called. “My door is unlocked; if you’re interested …in …I don’t know; seeing how things turned out …or whatever.”

She called out, “Let me know when it’s okay. And thank you, honey.”

I’d thought about how I’d do this. I slowly unzipped and stepped out of my skirt and hung it on the door, leaving me with panties and nerves. I really did have to pee, so I decided I wouldn’t look until after I’d done my business. I pulled off my panties and hung them on the second hook, carefully not looking at myself, sat and peed. There was no pain, no sense of blockage, and no real difference from when I’d been peeing before, pointing my little penis back with my fingers. I didn’t have to do that anymore, and the stream went where it should, and the simple act of peeing felt like a declaration, of sorts! I knew that I’d be wiping from now on, and to wipe from front to back, even though I didn’t really have the ‘plumbing’–yet. So I wiped and of course everything felt very strange down there, primarily because of what the doctor had done with the scrotal sacs. I flushed and stood; when the toilet was done I sat back down.

This was it.

Showtime.

Wow.

It was strange on so many levels. First, because other than what she’d done with the sacs, from my angle it didn’t really look that much different from what I usually saw, since I had kept my penis tucked between my legs for months now. But it was different, because I could spread my legs. My knees were pretty much as far apart as I could go, and yet nothing dangled. I stood and walked and took some un-lady-like squats, like pulling on pantyhose, and nothing dangled! That alone tremendously boosted my confidence.

One thing I noticed was that I could spread my legs wide; I guessed that the stirrups had been set so wide that I wasn’t in danger of pulling–or ripping–apart. The doctor was smart …but then, I knew that. I experimented with rotating my hips, doing a weird sort of dance, and there was no pulling or tugging. Even though I would have looked silly to an observer, I felt totally secure!

Second, I thought about being with other girls–and I had no qualms at all about thinking ‘other’ girls, because I was already firmly a girl in my mind. I had been kind of dreading the coming tourist season, because there would be girls to hang with but I’d always have the fear of being discovered, so I knew I’d be standoffish. But now, I could probably even shower naked with other girls and feel confident.

A third thought went right from there, from meeting new girls to meeting new boys. I had a strong, deep feeling for and connection to Mark, but I knew there’d be boys at the ranch, too. If everyone was telling the truth, I was really pretty, and added to my connection with the ranch as a sort of supervisor, as Jackie had said, I would be extremely attractive to tourist boys. They would be much more aware of penises than girls would be, and again my fear of discovery would prevent me from …well, from anything. But now, I was removed from any discovery, and the thought gave me a thrill of excitement …and fear.

Until Mark, I hadn’t given any thought to sex. Not even as Laurence; it just was never on my radar. I wasn’t crazy about Jackie kind of forcing my date with Mark, but once we were together, things just kind of took their own course and I knew now that she was right to force me. I think I responded as a girl because I’d never responded as a guy. There wasn’t any little voice screaming, ‘this is wrong!’ and I just …let nature take its course. My girl nature, that is. Now, when I thought of Mark, I got emotional–and physical–feelings that let me know without any doubt that I was sexually and emotionally attracted to males.

And that didn’t bother me a bit …

There was also a weird melancholy, bittersweet kind of feeling. I had no attraction to or affection for my penis and wanted it gone, but my feeling wasn’t about any lingering male bits. It was because I should have always looked like this! I shouldn’t have had to go through all those hoops to come to this point; I should have been born a girl and everything would have been right from the start. I almost got teary thinking about what life would have been like with Mom if I’d always been her daughter; I had no doubt we’d be close and loving. Well, we still could be, once she healed, so it was my job to fully become the best daughter she could have.

I sat back down on the toilet and Jackie called out, “Honey? How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” I called. Then, “Better than fine. Um …did anyone come in?”

“No, hon; it’s just us.”

“You want to come take a look?”

“If it’s okay with you,” Jackie said politely. “I helped get you dressed but didn’t think it was proper to really examine you.”

“Then git ya seff in heah, auntie!” I joked.

She cautiously pushed the door open and looked at me, naked from the waist down and sitting on the toilet.

“Hey, lady,” she called in a silly voice, “somebody stole your clothes!”

I played along. “Yes. Bummer. Well, I’ll just have to go into the restaurant like this!”

I stood, pirouetted, sat back down on the toilet and spread my legs. Jackie’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh, my God, honey …” she bobbed her head at different angles. “Oh my God …it looks …” She straightened up and said, “It looks like it should!”

I was so grateful for that, but corrected her. “It almost looks like it should–but that won’t be until after I have my surgery.”

“Yes, but …Laurie, I’ve seen a lot of vaginas–oops, fell into the trap that Dr. Mahmoudi warned us about. I’ve seen a lot of female genitalia–and a lot of vaginas–when I was a nurse, as well as …well, all through my life. I’m here to tell you that unless somebody gets really, really close and examines you–and I’m talking inches and directly underneath–they’re not going to know. From a foot away, you look like 100% natural-born girl.”

I sighed. “Right now, 90% is pretty darned good!”

“Ninety percent? Honey, you’re at the 99.9% percentile! Are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay …but it is frustrating not having a mirror.”

“I’ve got a mirror in my compact but it’s so small even I don’t use it. You’re going to have to wait until you’re home, lie on your bed with the magnifying mirror and go to town.”

“Interesting choice of words,” I mused, ribbing her. “Well. Hungry?”

I stepped into my panties–marveling at how I no longer had to squeeze my thighs together to keep myself tucked, and re-tuck afterward–pulled up my skirt, and went to the sink. I washed my hands, checked hair and makeup and we went and sat for our meal.

After assuring Jackie that I felt okay, I told her that although my lower abdomen felt full, I knew that it was from the procedure and not from food. So I had half a club sandwich and a small bowl of soup. I couldn’t help it; as we chatted my mind went through my wardrobe and thought about how I’d look in them now, and about fashions that I shied away from that were now wearable.

Jackie fished around in her salad. “You know, Laurie, one thing the doctors said might have gotten lost in all the activity. They called it ‘socialization.’ In a nutshell, girlfriends. It pains me to see that you don’t have any girlfriends, because it’s so important–and so wonderful–to have girlfriends in your life. I don’t know how you’re going to meet any, stuck out on the ranch as we are.”

“I thought about that already. I was too nervous and insecure to get close to any girls anywhere when I was …when I was living as Laurence. And since then, I was still nervous about it, but now that I’ve had my …procedure? Are we just going to call it that?”

“Well, we could give it a pet name, like we do our periods.”

“See? There’s so much I have to learn. I never knew that girls name their periods! They name their periods?”

“Sure. For code in front of men. Like, ‘My cousin called me last night,’ or ‘I think Betsy’s going to come over tomorrow or the next day.’ Men are clueless but every woman knows what you meant.”

“Please help me, Jackie. I’m going to blow it in front of other girls if I don’t have this kind of inside information.”

“It’ll be my pleasure. It’ll be fun, too! Give me a chance to relive my girlhood …but you still need a chance to meet other girls.”

“Obviously the only opportunity at the ranch will be with girl tourists. You know, they’re there for a week or two, and some will have friends with them, and some won’t and will feel all alone, and I need to know anything they would know so I don’t seem strange, and so they can relax and enjoy themselves. And then they’re gone and there’s another group coming in. So even if I do blow it somehow, raise some questions, they’ll be gone to their homes and out of my life. And if I make a really good friend, we’ll stay friends.”

Jackie nodded. “And those are the important relationships.”

“I know, but first and foremost is the relationship I want to establish with Mom. And speaking of Mom, I’ll be at the hospital for a time, in the program, and maybe I’ll make some friends there, too. That’s what the doctors said, anyway.”

Jackie nodded slowly, as if pondering a weighty issue. “Yes, very likely. And perhaps have a cup of coffee or two …”

“Jackie!” I burst out laughing. “Yes, perhaps a cup of coffee or two!”

We talked about how to schedule things between ranch and hospital, various future plans, then finished our meals, washed up and paid and got back in the car. It was silly; although I’d started getting into cars like a girl, it was a special treat this time to keep my knees together and swing into the car. I smoothed my skirt and put on my seat belt, which crossed between my breasts. I put my purse on the floor in front of me. I sat back and fluffed my hair out. Jackie looked at me with a loving smile that turned into a grin.

“All ready, girlfriend?” she cracked, trying to be hip.

It dawned on me that my life was pretty much set for the next year or more. I would prepare the ranch for tourists and I would also participate in the hospital program. I would make girlfriends and go on dates with Mark and maybe other boys. Mom would heal, slowly but surely, and I would share my life with her. At the end of season, I’d help prepare the ranch for the off season and winter, and continue my schooling with Miz B. At some point next year Mom would be able to leave the hospital. Jackie had already planned for Mom to come live with us on the ranch, but if she wanted to get a new apartment we would begin our lives together as mother and daughter. I would attend a high school and go through the experience of being ‘the new girl’, in every way possible. And I would study resort management–and maybe psychology–and go on to college somewhere, but only when Mom was fully healthy.

And I would be a girl, a happy, pretty girl, and then a woman, for the rest of my life.

“All ready, Aunt Jackie. Let’s go home,” I smiled and sighed. “I can’t wait to get my life started!”

The End