“Jamie?” I ask as I open the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here,” Jamie says breathlessly, “because I love you, Stuart.” My legs start to wobble as I hear the words I’ve longed to hear, but in my head, I know what I’m hearing is too good to be true. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, steadying my nerves before replying.

“You love me… but?” I ask.

“No buts,” Jamie says with a smile and a playful roll of her eyes. “Plenty of ‘and’s, though. I love you AND I want to be with you. I love you AND I’m IN love with you. I love you… AND I love you more than anyone else.”

“’Anyone’ else?” I ask, the smile returning to my face.

“EVERYONE else,” Jamie giggles after rolling her eyes yet again. Jamie leans in and kisses me, and all my tensions melts away as I surrender to the best kiss of my entire life…

I open my eyes and blink twice to readjust to the darkness of my bedroom, stretching my tired body in my bed. Every time my mind empties, I find myself back on my doorstep last Boxing Day, replaying over and over in my mind the moment that Jamie ‘chose’ me, the moment I ‘won’. I turn my head to the left, and my heart instantly melts at the sight of the slumbering girl gently breathing in and out. Even without make-up, she is a true beauty, and her loose, sandy blonde tresses falling in front of her face only enhance her looks.

“Mmm,” Jamie mumbles as I gently brush the hair out of her face. “Stu…” I shiver slightly as I she sleepily calls my name. Maybe she’s dreaming of me right now, dreaming of US… And yet I can’t help but remember the circumstances behind our temporary separation. Ever since our reconciliation eight weeks ago, we’ve made love countless times. One thing I quickly learned about Jamie is that she is very much a ‘yeller’, and every time she yells my name during our lovemaking, I feel like a king… But I’m always paranoid, worried that she may yell another man’s name instead. Not just any other man, but the man who used to be my best friend.

It’s not that I don’t understand that Keith has a lot on his plate. He’s finishing off his Master’s degree, after all, and there is the ‘small’ matter of his about to become a father. But still… Keith has distanced himself not just from me, but from the rest of the boys as well.

Jamie and her friends have a tradition that every Friday, every girl who’s available goes on a night out, hitting various clubs where they get treated like princesses, and every Saturday, they have a ‘night in’ at Charlotte’s house (the only place large enough to hold their growing ‘extended family’). I and the boys- Jonathan, Dan, Paul Kennedy, Mikey, Riley and (formerly) Keith- have a similar tradition, only instead of going out on Fridays, we stay in, order pizza, play videogames and generally get rid of the tension of the week. On Saturdays, we used to go out, sometimes hitting clubs ourselves to find hook-ups for those of us who are still single, but in recent times we’ve taken to having boys’ nights in on Saturdays as well, mainly because Dan can’t make both nights due to babysitting duties.

Last year, the ‘boys’ nights in’ always took place in Keith’s ‘man cave’ that he had built in Charlotte’s back garden. Ever since he separated from Charlotte, they took place at Keith’s vast house (sometimes his little brother would come and hang out with us too). Now… Keith hasn’t been seen at a boys’ night- in or out- since Christmas, and I can’t help but feel responsible. Jamie chose me- but she could easily have chosen Keith instead, and he’s not taking the rejection well.

Despite the fact that I’m laid in bed next to the most beautiful woman in the world, when I fall asleep, it’s Keith I’m thinking of, rather than Jamie, but when I wake up and see Jamie stood at the end of my bed, stark naked having just come from the shower, all my thoughts turn to the woman I love. She obviously hasn’t noticed that I’ve woken up as she pulls a clean set of underwear out of her drawer (we keep some clean clothes at each other’s house), and my hands begin to shake as she slowly slides her thong up her legs, giggling slightly as the thin strap of the scanty undergarment nestles between her buttocks. As she clips on her bra, however, I find my memory taking me back to the summer of 2008- and the last time I ever wore a bra.

As a girl, I was always larger than average, both in terms of height and ‘width’, and whilst this made my transition easy later on, at the start, it was an exercise in pure frustration. I had C-cup breasts by the time I was 15 years old, and when I attended college as ‘Stuart’ for the first time, aged 16, I took every step I could to hide them, taping them down with an elastic bandage, restraining them under special ‘compression vests’, but everything I did left me in discomfort, often outright pain… Pain made all the worse by the fact that I was studying music. Playing the keyboard with repressed mammaries was hard, but playing the guitar was all but impossible. I barely scraped through my first year at college as a result of my constant discomfort, and when I started back the following September- which was also the one year anniversary of my starting HRT- I found myself relying on over-the-counter painkillers simply to get through the day. By the end of the second year at college, the testosterone has transformed my previously ‘perky’ breasts into sagging lumps of fat… And I wanted them gone as fast as possible.

Three days after I finished college, I found myself laid in a hospital bed wearing a sterile blue gown, almost wetting myself with fear. Despite my efforts to toughen myself up mentally- and 21 months of testosterone helping to rewrite my brain chemistry- I was still going in for a major operation, one that I had the potential- however small- of not waking up from.

“Okay, Mister Milton,” the doctor said as he injected a syringe into my IV. “I want you to count backwards from ten. Can you do that, please?”

“Ten,” I said, weakly nodding my head. “Nine, eight, seven… Siff- sick- six… Fiiii…”

When I woke up, I was still in the same bed, wearing the same sterile blue gown, but my chest was in a lot of pain. A LOT of pain, but unlike the pain and discomfort I’d felt over the previous two years, this was different. It was sharp, invasive, acute- and when I looked down at my chest, I almost started to cry. My breasts were gone, but in their place were two angry horizontal scars, almost like zippers underneath my now-redundant nipples.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, son!” Dad said, patting me on the shoulder. “…You- you’re not regretting it, are you?” I took a deep breath, and sighed long and loud.

“I- I don’t know,” I moaned. My eighteen year old self had a very clear image of how his transition would go- breasts off, reproductive organs out, penis on, job done. What he didn’t account for were the scars. In addition to the pain, they would be permanent reminders of what I once was- what I TRULY was inside, no matter what the outside looked like.

Over the summer, the scars faded, though I still wore bandages around my chest to ease the pain and speed up the recovery process. My first day at university was terrifying- not least because I was in a city over a hundred miles from home and a city known for higher-then-average crime levels. If I got ‘found out’… I was taller than average for a girl, but for a boy, I was still short, slender… And would have no chance in a fight.

I took a deep breath as I stared at myself in the short mirror that had been provided for my university dorm. Aside from some swelling around my scars, my chest was flat- easily passable for a man’s, if it wasn’t for the scars. Gingerly, I pulled my favourite t-shirt- one with the logo of my favourite band, the Foo Fighters, on the front- and pulled it over my head, taking care not to aggravate my scars. However, once my t-shirt was on, I looked… Normal. And as I walked into my first lecture, it was all I could do not to laugh. I was just one of many boys with short brown hair wearing a t-shirt celebrating their favourite band. Sure, I was shorter than average, my hips were still (at the time) a little wider than usual and my face was still unfortunately ‘cute’… But no one noticed, and if they noticed, they certainly didn’t care. At the end of that week, I and three friends went for a celebratory dinner at Hooters, where I couldn’t help but stare at the scantily-clad girls serving our food with a mixture of lust and relief- relief that I was finally on the side of the gender divide where I truly belonged.

"Mmm," I say, caressing Jamie's left breast from behind. "Soft lace..."

“Get off!” Jamie laughs, patting my hands away. “If you want to play with my bra so much, I’ll lend you one!”

“Your bras are only fun to play with when you’re wearing them,” I say, laughing harder as Jamie gives me a firm pat on my backside. I drink in the sight of Jamie as she continues getting ready for the day, applying her make-up, spraying on her perfume and putting on her jewellery, before stretching a pair of translucent black tights up her long, smooth legs, pulling on a lacy camisole followed by a tight black miniskirt, a tight blue top and a tiny pair of black ballerina flats. Every time I watch Jamie get dressed, it amazes me that for (more or less) the first sixteen years of my life, I would get dressed the exact same way as her, taking the exact same care to perfect my appearance… And hating every second of it.

After showering, I return to my bedroom, where Jamie watches me with the same eagerness with which I watched her get dressed, even though my dressing ‘sequence’ barely takes a minute as I pull on my boxer shorts, a pair of thick black socks, my favourite pair of black jeans, an old white t-shirt, a thick, red/brown sweater and my favourite pair of brown boots.

“Mmm,” Jamie says, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Cuddly…”

“I hope you’re not implying I’m getting fat!” I giggle, turning around and kissing my beautiful girlfriend on the lips. “Come on, if we don’t get this band sorted soon, Becca’s gonna skin both of us…” Jamie giggles as we walk down to my car, and we soon find ourselves in the office of Joshua Benedict- Jamie’s increasingly-rich agent- along with Joshua’s nephew Jonathan, my ex-girlfriend Krystie and her new boyfriend- and one of my best friends from university, who joined me on that first trip to Hooters- Mikey Dawson.

“There’s no way we’re not having Kayla,” I insist, earning sighs from Joshua and Jonathan but approving nods from my other three friends.

“Man, she looks about twelve!” Jonathan argues.

“Bit of an exaggeration?” Jamie laughs. “Even I way blown away by her singing, and I’m no music expert unlike these guys.”

“Seriously,” I say. “Foot down. Kayla Ford. Having.”

“Ooh, look at ‘Mr. Authority’!” Krystie teases. “Looking at her resume, I don’t see any formal dance training, then again, none of the girls we saw for a second audition do, apart from Abbey-Gayle.”

“…Doesn’t she go to your dance class?” Jonathan asks.

“That’s- ooh, funny,” Krystie snorts. “That’s still formal training and you know it!”

“Ladies, gentlemen!” Joshua booms as his nephew giggles at Krystie’s expense. “Stuart, are you absolutely sure Kayla would be a good fit for the band alongside your sister and my niece?”

“Positive,” I say. “Trust me when I say that if we don’t sign her, we’ll regret it really, really quickly.”

“Then it’s settled,” Joshua says. “Kayla joins the band. That leaves two spaces left to fill…”

The six of us spend the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon arguing about who to add to the band that Joshua has finally agreed to let me produce for Becca and his niece Adeola. Both women have long since craved fame, and have been unofficial members of the Angels (the public name of Jamie’s ‘gang’) for what feels like forever, but would rather be famous in their own right rather than be perceived as ‘hangers-on’ to Jamie and co. Becca and Adeola are both extremely talented singers, so a girl band was the natural option, meaning I’ve spent the last month pretending to be Simon Cowell as numerous young women sing their hearts out for a place in the band. Fortunately, Jamie also sat in on the auditions (as a considerably more attractive Cheryl Cole) so there was never any danger of her getting jealous!

“Girls’ night, then?” I ask my girlfriend as she grabs her bag and leaves the office.

“Of course,” Jamie says with a sweet smile that belies the fact that she is almost certainly going to get VERY drunk tonight. “See you later, sexy!” Jamie kisses me at the same time Krystie kisses Mikey, before both women walk off, giggling louder and louder as they go.

“…Boys’ night, then?” I ask, making Jon and Mikey chuckle as we walk in the opposite direction to the girls.

A few hours later, I find myself stood in Jonathan’s front room with a guitar in my hands- only rather than a regular guitar, this guitar is made out of plastic, and has brightly-coloured buttons where the frets should be.

“Seriously,” I say. “Load up Rocksmith, let me show you how this SHOULD be done.”

“Nope,” Jon laughs from his seat behind an equally-phoney drum kit. “You can play it on your birthday if you want, but tonight we’re playing a game we can ALL enjoy.”

“Though as it’s your birthday on Monday,” Paul laughs, microphone in hand, “you can pick the first song.”

“It’s no contest,” I say, scrolling down to a song all four of us have played on Rock Band 3 several times.

“Ah, how could it have been anything else?” Riley laughs from his seat on the sofa as Mikey pretends to tune his own plastic guitar. Within seconds, Mikey and I begin strumming away on our plastic guitars whilst Jon merrily pounds away at his plastic drums. On cue, lyrics appear on screen, and Paul takes a deep breath.

“Run and tell all of the Angels,” Paul sings as Mikey, Jon, Riley and I laugh at the appropriateness of the opening lyric.

"This could take all night
Think I need a devil to help me get things right
Hook me up a new revolution
‘Cause this one is a lie
We sat around laughing and watched the last one die…”

“Now I’m looking to the sky to save me,” all five of us sing in unison.

Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something to help me born out bright
I'm looking for a complication
Looking ‘cause I’m tired of lying
Make my way back home when I learn to fly high…"

The four of us (with ‘backing’ from Riley) finish off the rest of the song in good cheer, laughing happily as Jon, Mikey and I play the final notes of the song that I know like the back of my hand.

“Thirty K away from a personal best,” Jon announces. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

“There you go, Rile,” I say, handing my sister’s boyfriend my ‘guitar’ as I crash down on the sofa.

“Cheers,” the tall, blonde man says. “Is Jamie doing your party on Monday?”

“Yep,” I say. “Don’t get why we have to have a stupid theme…”

“Oh come on,” Paul laughs. “You enjoyed the Top Gear one we threw for Jamie’s teenaged friend, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “But ‘jeans and a leather jacket’ isn’t, you know, a ‘proper’ costume, this is…”

“Ah, you love it really,” Jon laughs. “And it’s not like it’s a massive, intricate costume either, just dungarees and a long-sleeved t-shirt.”

“And a fake moustache,” I say. “And a hat… If Jamie makes me wear the moustache for the whole night I’ve threatened to grow a real one.”

“No offence, mate,” Riley says. “I genuinely don’t mean this in a nasty way, but- can-“

“Can I grow a real one?” I say, finishing Riley’s sentence for him. “Yep. And a beard. It’s thin and patchy, but it will grow.”

“I never really see you with any stubble, though,” Paul says. “I just assumed…”

“I shave twice a week,” I explain. “Wednesdays and Sundays, if I didn’t shave for a week, maybe ten days you’d see something then. I would prove it, but I would kinda get killed by Jamie…” I roll my eyes as Riley mimes cracking a whip, along with the mandatory sound effect.

“…And you can’t retort,” Riley laughs. “If you do, you’ll be insulting your little sister.”

“I’ve spent the last twenty years doing precisely that,” I laugh. “Besides, a few months from now, you’re going to have to share her with the rest of the country…”

“Guys!” Jon announces, having selected the next song. “We here to talk about Becca’s second career as a dominatrix, or are we here to play?”

“Bring it on,” Paul laughs as Riley looks disapprovingly at Jon. The next song is let's Dance by David Bowie, after which I take over from Paul in front of the microphone.

“You assholes had better not do to me what we did to Keith last time we played this,” I say, referring to the time we ‘accidentally’ gave Keith ‘Hella Good’ by No Doubt when it was his turn on vocals.

“As if we’d do that,” Riley laughs, before an awkward silence fills the room.

“Have you invited him to your party?” Jon asks.

“Nah,” I whisper, shaking my head. “It’d be kinda awkward- it’s at Charlotte’s, and I know he- you know, he and Jamie…”

“If he’s still hung up on Jamie, that’s his problem,” Paul says bluntly. “She chose you, mate. He’s got to respect that.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s that easy,” I sigh. “Hurry up and pick a song already!” The other four men all chuckle as Jon complies with my request and picks a song that leaves me groaning- whilst it’s undoubtedly a great song, it’s exactly the type of song that I’d wanted to avoid. Once the intro is complete, I take a deep breath and prepare to sing.

“I want to break free…” I sing softly.

"I want to break free
I want to break free from your lies
You're so self-satisfied I don't need you
I've got to break free
God knows, God knows I want to break free..."

I take a bow at the end of the song- I'm not much of a singer, but I still (according to the game, anyway) put in a near-perfect performance- an especially impressive achievement when you're trying to match the immense vocal skill of Freddie Mercury. Jonathan also takes a bow- according to the game, his performance WAS perfect.

"Never mind Becca and Adeola," Riley laughs. "Maybe you two should form a band!"

"Yeah, learn to play a proper instrument and then we'll talk," I say, earning playful shoves from my friends. I'm quite happy to fill the role of 'real music snob' within our group- if it means I abandon the role of 'boy who used to be a girl'... I'll take that in a heartbeat.

After an entire concert's worth of songs, the five of us decide to call it a night. Paul drives us all home- I head home to my house, as Jamie and I typically sleep apart on Fridays (and often on Saturdays as well), but as I head to bed, I can't help but think about Keith. As hard as he may be studying, he'll still have spent tonight alone. Sure, he'll have his family, but his parents are both in their fifties, and his brother is only sixteen... Keith and I were more than just friends, we were mates, in a sense that very few people can understand or appreciate.

I'm still awake when I'm startled by the sound of the front door opening. For a fleeting moment I panic that our home is being invaded, but the tell-tale sound of stiletto heels clicking across the floor tells me that it's more likely to be Becca just in from her night out. As if my upcoming birthday wasn't enough reminder that I'm getting old, now I'm getting home hours before my baby sister...

I spend the whole of Saturday working, reviewing and re-reviewing audition tapes and interview transcripts so that when I go into work on Monday, I'll be able to give Joshua two definitive names to add to Becca, Adeola and Kayla in the band. All day, though, I find myself missing Jamie- even though we're in constant electronic communication- but much to my surprise, I find myself missing Keith as well, sometimes even more than Jamie.

As Sunday dawns, I remain alone in my bed whilst the rest of the house wakes up around me, but my mind is far from lazy. Tomorrow is my birthday, and more importantly, my birthday party... And it just wouldn't be complete without my best mate in it. With a renewed determination, I get up and get dressed, smiling as I all but run down the stairs.

"I'm heading out," I say to my parents, not even stopping to eat breakfast. "I'll be back later."

"Okay, um, bye..." Mum says, confused by my haste. I jump in my car and start the engine, but I take my time on the short drive over to Keith's house. I know his parents regularly attend church, but not every Sunday... And the presence of all of the family's cars in their driveway makes me equally relieved and nervous as I park outside their vast home and ring their doorbell. I clench my jaw as the door opens- and it's none other than Keith himself who has answered the door.

"What do you want?" Keith asks, staring at me with near-contempt.

"I want to talk, if that's okay?" I reply.

"I'm listening," Keith says in the same curt manner.

"We missed you at game night on Friday," I say. "Do you know when you'll be coming back?"

"God's sake," Keith snorts. "You know better than anyone why I won't be coming back."

"Keith, mate," I sigh. "You're not going to accomplish anything by sitting here pouting. At- at least come to my birthday party tomorrow. I know Jamie's had a costume made for you in case you want to come..."

"Yeah, no," Keith sighs. "I honestly can't think of anywhere I'd rather NOT be. A party at my ex-girlfriend’s house for the two people who stabbed me in the back?"

"Really?" I ask, anger flooding into my voice. "You want to talk about betrayal, Keith? You REALLY want to go there?"

"Jamie led me on," Keith states firmly. "Made me think that we had a future when we clearly didn't. I don't like being used as a one night stand, especially for someone like Jamie... And I'm not going to just stand by whilst you waltz off into the sunset together."

"So you're just going to isolate yourself from all your friends?" I ask.

"Some fucking friend you turned out to be," Keith spits.

"Well let's think about this for a second," I growl. "Suppose the shoe was on the other foot, and Jamie HAD chosen to be with you? And if I'd holed myself up in my bedroom, refusing to see anyone?"

"I'd have respected your decision," Keith growls back.

"Bollocks you would have!" I snort. "You'd have dragged me out of my bedroom and tried to set me up with every single girl you know. Maybe even Charlotte-" Quicker than a blur, Keith swings his right fist straight at my face. I throw up my left arm just in time to block most of the punch, but it still catches the side of my mouth, cutting my lip open.

"FUCK OFF!" Keith yells.

"You still love her, don't you?" I chuckle, taking a deep breath as I watch Keith seethe with rage. Knowing better than to provoke Keith further, I walk away as he slams the door behind me. With my adrenaline thinning in my blood, I climb back into my car and rest my head on my steering wheel, before starting my engine and driving away. I don't want to go straight home, especially not with blood leaking from my lip. When I started transitioning, my family- especially my mother- were terrified that if I became a boy, I'd spend my time getting into fights... And whilst I've gone out of my way to avoid them (especially since I started dating Jamie, who is a total pacifist), this would be the second time in less than three months I go home with a bloody lip, and on both occasions, it was the same man who caused it...

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" The young woman yells as I loudly knock on her door. "Keep your panties on... Oh, um, hi Stuart, um, when I said panties-"

"It's fine," I laugh. "Can- can I come in?"

"Of course," Charlotte says. "Jamie's not here, she's at her parents' today-"

"I know, I'm heading there myself later," I explain. "I- I just wanted-"

"Oh god," Charlotte gasps upon seeing my damaged mouth. "What happened to your lip?"

"My ex-best friend," I sigh. "Your ex-boyfriend. Went round to try to talk to him, and, well, bad idea."

"God, let me get you some hot water, get you cleaned up..." Charlotte says, waddling to the kitchen as fast as her seven-month-pregnant form would allow.

"I'LL get the water," I say. "You sit down, you don't want to overexert yourself in your condition..."

"Okay, if you're sure..." Charlotte says. Within seconds, I've filled a washing-up bowl with lukewarm water, and Charlotte is dabbing my busted lip with damp kitchen roll in an effort to stop the bleeding.

"It's really not bleeding that much," I argue. "Had practically stopped by the time I got here..."

"You still don't want to go around everywhere with blood all over your face," Charlotte says. "Unless that's some sort of macho 'male initiation' ritual I DON'T want to know about?"

"No," I sigh. "Just a macho 'male stupidity' ritual..."

"Trust me," Charlotte says, "females can be equally stupid at times. Not as often as men, obviously..." I chuckle, before Charlotte continues talking. "Why DID you go and talk to Keith, anyway?"

"Just to see if he wanted to come to the party tomorrow," I say. "I'm sorry, I know I should've asked you first as you're the host, but-"

"It's not like he hasn't been here since the break-up!" Charlotte laughs. "And besides, it's your party, you invite whoever you want! And, technically, I don't own this house any more, Joshua does, so I'm not even the host- And Jamie's organising the party..."

"Still though," I say. "Kinda glad he said no. And... Kinda disappointed."

"The other boys missing him too?" Charlotte asks.

"A little," I sigh. "I think- I think he's still hung up on Jamie, that's the thing..." Charlotte pauses briefly, before continuing her 'nursing'.

"Charlotte," I whisper. "If- if Jamie had chosen Keith..."

"She didn't," Charlotte says firmly. "That's the important thing. And you and her are SO right for each other...

"But," I sigh. "If she had... You and I- would you and I-"

"Somewhere, sometimes, maybe," Charlotte says. "I'm sure you've been told a million times that the way you were born doesn't make you any less of a man."

"Yeah, but sexually-" I argue, making Charlotte laugh.

"If you're talking about sex," Charlotte laughs, "remember that I know just how 'loud' Jamie is! Why do you think I put the nursery on the opposite corner of the house to her bedroom? And besides, you'd know better than anyone else exactly how to pleasure a woman... This is going to sound bad, I know, but... Keith... isn't actually that good in bed."

"...Seriously?" I ask.

"I know, I know," Charlotte sighs. "I only found that out by doing the dirty on him... But it's like... Everything he knew about sex he learned from porn. Never stopped to ask what I wanted out of it..."

"Now that IS a surprise," I laugh. "I thought, you know, because he's 6' 2"..."

"Size is most DEFINITELY not everything!" Charlotte laughs. "There- think you're all cleaned up now."

"Thanks," I say. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"You go," Charlotte laughs. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," I say with a grin as I leave the vast property, quickly heading to Jamie's parents' house. Thanks to Charlotte's ministrations, there's no sign of the fight left anywhere on my face, even as Jamie 'examines it up close' when she greets me with a kiss. After dinner with Jamie's parents- with whom I get on really well, to the point that I've even played a round of golf with her father- we head home, eventually heading to bed, where our fingers and mouths quickly find their way onto our most sensitive areas...

I smile happily as the warmth of the first rays of sun find their way onto my face, followed by the gentle touch of Jamie's slender fingers.

"Happy birthday," Jamie whispers, giving me a gentle kiss. "We do still, kinda have to get up today for work..."

"Yes, yes," I sigh, pulling on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and finally my thick blue dressing gown before heading downstairs, where I gasp with shock at the sight that greets me.

"Happy birthday!" My entire family yells. Even this early in the morning, everyone is here- Riley's here, having obviously spent the night with Becca, and Emma and Lee have even dropped by. Draped on the wall behind the breakfast table is a large '2' and a large '5'- and to the side of the dining room is a huge, HUGE pile of presents.

"Ah, my little boy is a quarter of a century old," dad chuckles. "Thanks for making me feel old, son..." I smile at dad's teasing, as not only is it my birthday today, but it's another significant anniversary, as I'm reminded when I head into the kitchen for a drink after opening my presents.

"Happy NINTH birthday," Becca- who ambushes me in the kitchen- says.

"Thanks," I say with a smile, before giving my baby sister a long, tight hug. "I really feels like so, so much longer... And I really couldn't have done any of this without you. Or Emma, or mum or dad... But if it wasn't for you, 'Stuart' wouldn't exist..."

"You can repay me by getting me a girl band for my birthday?" Becca asks, making me giggle.

"Oh, we'll have it done long before then," I laugh, smiling as I roll up the sleeve of my dressing gown to reveal the fine, wispy hair covering my arm. "But nine years... God."

"...And are you, still, you know, taking the 'final step'?" Becca asks with a shaky voice.

"I'm still booked in for October," I say.

"It's really not fair that it's so hard for you, and boys like you," Becca moans. "Jamie went from 'total boy' to 'total girl' in just over THREE years, from what I understand, and here you are, NINE years later..."

"Am I a man or a woman?" I ask my baby sister.

"Well, a man," Becca replies. "That's obvious, surely? But down there..."

"'Size isn't everything'," I laugh. "It’s not that I NEED this surgery... but I want it. Badly." Becca sighs and gives me a tight, sisterly hug, before leaving me to get my drink.

"Got to get dressed now," Becca says. "Don't want to be late for ballet..."

"Or university!" I shout after the young woman as she leaves. After getting dressed myself (which again involves playing with one of Jamie's bras, as she's wearing it), I head downstairs and quickly glance over my present pile. Even though my dad is now retired, my family is still very wealthy. Emma, Becca and I never went wanting on our birthdays, and today is no exception- the 'main' present being an amazing sterling silver watch, but I also have new designer jeans, sweatshirts, aftershave sets... And my mind returns to the two most significant birthdays of my life. It was on my sixteenth birthday that I finally made the decision to live 'as Stuart'. During the afternoon, after school, mum, Emma, Becca and I went for spa treatments, manicures, pedicures, make-overs... And during the night, I obliterated every trace of the femininity that had been forced upon me. I ascended the stairs at home as Claire... And descended them as Stuart.

Exactly 365 days later, on my seventeenth birthday, I woke up as Stuart, and found a pile of presents very similar to the ones I opened today. On that day, I received my very first shaving set, a set of sports books, a pair of sturdy brown boots... And a giant card that read 'to a wonderful son on his seventeenth birthday'. I received a similar card today, only the card read 'twenty-fifth' instead of 'seventeenth', but it means just as much now as it did back then. I've kept all my birthday cards from my parents since my seventeenth birthday as reminders, precious reminders that I am love for who I am- not what chemicals flow through my brain or what I have- or rather, don't have- growing out of my chest.

After spending the day in yet another meeting with Joshua, Jon, Krystie, Mikey and Jamie- during which we pick another member for Becca's band, a ginger-haired Scottish girl called Lauren- I and the woman I love head back to her house, where I change into my costume for the night. When I mentioned to Jamie that on our 'boys' nights', we spent most of our time playing videogames, she decided that videogames would be the theme for the party, so I strip off my comfortable new jeans and black sweatshirt and pull on a tight red long-sleeved t-shirt, which causes Jamie to come over and gently caress my small pectoral muscles.

"Mmm," Jamie playfully moans. "Hunky!" I smile and pause my dressing, allowing Jamie to 'fondle' me a while longer. Every time she plays with my chest is a reminder that the operation I had, the pain and scarring I had to endure, was all worth it. Even if Jamie never touches my chest again for the rest of my life... It's still worth it.

Once Jamie's released me, I pull on the rest of my costume- denim dungarees, white gloves, a huge, ostentatious fake moustache and finally, a red peaked cap with a giant 'M' in the middle of the front.

"It's a me!" I yell in a phoney Italian accent as Jamie applauds. "Stu-io!"

"SUPER Stuio!" Jamie laugh, giving me a kiss. Unlike my costume, which took me mere seconds to pull on, hers was a true feat of engineering. As I'm dressed as Mario, she's obviously dressed as princess Peach, but rather than a plain pink dress, her gown is huge, puffed out with petticoats whilst her waist is taken in by a corset that looks far too tight in which to have any fun. As Princess Peach is taller than Mario, Jamie is, of course, wearing huge platform heels underneath her dress- meaning I have to take her hand (which is covered in a bicep-length white satin glove) to help her down the stairs to where the party is already in full swing.

After a brief- but still embarrassing- moment where I and Jamie waltz around the room to one of the songs from one of the recent Super Mario games, I'm given three cheers and handed presents from all of the partygoers- again, stuff like men's deodorant and aftershave, but it doesn't matter what the presents are, merely that the people at the party thought enough of me to give me them. As I scan the room, however, I can't help but feel a little sad that one person is missing from the party- the man who would've been the 'Luigi' to my 'Mario'.

"Thank you all for this," I say, dropping my fake Italian accent as I address the crowd. "Best-a birthday-a ever-a!" As the crowd laughs, I once again take Jamie by the hand and lead her to one of the sofas dotted around the vast room, where we're quickly joined by Charlotte- whose costume choice of 'a Sim who's pregnant' isn't the most imaginative she's ever worn, but she did at least make the effort to put the floating jewel above her head.

"There's one more present," Charlotte says. "It was left on the back doorstep earlier today. Happy birthday, Stu." I rattle the small box as Jamie looks on inquisitively, but as I open it, I can't help but laugh- and almost cry- at the sight of what's inside.

"...False teeth?" Jamie asks.

"...It's from Keith," I say with a smile. A glance at the card- which simply reads 'Happy Birthday Mate, K' confirms my suspicions.

It's probably the stupidest present I've ever received on any occasion, and yet it probably means more to me than any of the others I've received today. If there's one thing my transition has taught me, it's that you can't expect to have everything. Yes, I can have a masculine chest... at the expense of life-long scars. Yes, I can have a penis... at the expense of a lengthy recovery period and the knowledge that it'll never be 100% 'functional'. Yes, I can have the woman I love... at the expense of my best friend.

And yet, every decision I've made has turned out for the best. My chest is flat, and my scars have faded. Eventually, my penis will be as much a part of my body as, say my fingers or my toes. And, if this present is any indication, maybe, just maybe, Keith and I will one day be friends again.

Treasure what you have, certainly- but don't think that means that you have to stop wanting more… Or wanting back what was once lost.