The Machine

My mother was really gonna do it.

She was going to put the Machine on my head.

And I was just sitting there.

Why wasn’t I fighting this?

I should have been swearing, kicking, threatening to run away.

I mean, I was a boy, and boys aren’t supposed to use the Machine.

But I just sat there.

They took me to the chair, and put the Machine on my head.

I trembled, and closed my eyes.

Finally the Machine was done, and my mother lead me over to the mirror.

And even in boys clothes I could see it.

I looked like a girl.

I ... was a girl.

I ... was happy?

Dam it, my mother knew I was trans before I did!

And who knew a different hairstyle dried by a hair dryer could make such a difference?

End.