~o~O~o~

Later that day, in the Eiken’s master bedroom (with the door locked):

“Allowing him to dress up – full time, no less! – was a huge mistake. We need to put our foot down and force him to act and dress as what he really is – a BOY.”

Gwen had been ranting for the last twelve minutes. William listened without saying anything; now, though, he needed to respond. “Force him? How? At gunpoint? He’s already shown us he’d rather be nude than do clothes he doesn’t want.”

“Why is he acting like this, William? His personality changed two weeks ago, and he’s been in skirts for the last week. If this is not real, it’s lasting longer than I would have ever thought possible! I mean, who can fake it that long?”

“I know. It has me flabbergasted, as your Dad would say. Gwen … I think we need to consider that this could be a real thing. Bill could … I can’t believe I’m saying this … really be transgendered.”

“I know you believe in all that trans stuff. I don’t. It’s a mental illness at best. And you don’t treat mental illness by saying ‘just live that way’. That wouldn’t work with a schizophrenic!”

“No matter which one of us is right, in less than 2 years Bill will be a legal adult. How will our relationship be with him if he still chooses to become a woman? Do we shut him out? Say he’s dead to us? Or endure uncomfortable holidays together for the rest of our lives? At some point, would you accept him?”

Gwen glared at her spouse with anger. “Whose f**ing side are you on, you bastard? If you don’t support me on this, then Satan wins – perversion wins! And if that happens, I will hold you responsible because you didn’t stand with me!”

William’s face felt numb. He’d never heard Gwen so angry, nor so foul-mouthed. “Honey … you’re talking about being godly, fighting evil, and then swearing like a sailor. Do you see the contradiction?”

“DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT GODLY, YOU HYPOCRITE! GET THE F*** OUT OF MY BEDROOM! OUT OF MY HOUSE! GO SLEEP IN A MOTEL TONIGHT BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND HOW YOU’RE TALKING; I CAN’T STAND YOU!” Gwen threw socks, briefs, and other items for him to grab to show she meant business.

William had never seen his wife come unhinged like this. She was bawling heavily while continuing to grab some of his clothes from the closet. He decided to swing for the fences as a last gasp effort to salvage this situation. Walking into the closet, he grabbed Gwen and held her firmly against his chest, not hard enough to cause pain or restrict breathing, but definitely preventing her from using her arms.

“LET ME GO! I WILL CALL THE COPS ON YOU, YOU …”

“Baby, it’s going to be okay,” William whispered into her ear. “Don’t do this. I love you, and I am always on your side. We may disagree on some things, but we are a team and I will never break us up. Please just breathe. Don’t talk, just breathe. I love you.”

Gwen twisted a few more times. “NO … LET ME … LET …” She gave up and suddenly went limp, continuing to bawl. William eased both of them down to the floor of the closet; he knelt there, still holding her, still whispering encouragement in her ear.

Willow and her older sister Angie stood in the hallway outside their parent’s bedroom; they’d been there ever since the loud yelling had started. Angie was visibly scared and crying; her Mom and Dad had never fought like this. Willow’s eyes looked distressed, and she kept her mouth covered with both hands. That was necessary to hide the fact that she was smiling widely.

Looks like Mom and Stepdevil’s marriage is on the rocks. That helps the plan. If I can split them up, mom won’t have the energy to keep me grounded here at home. And I’ll never have to put up with Stepshit’s rules ever again. This “addendum” is working better than I hoped. Freedom, here I come!

~o~O~o~

Dude I did it – told Mom I wanted hormones

And?

TOTAL FREAK OUT. Said I had to stop dressing. Stepdad came home, they got into huge fight. They might break up! Good news totally!

So you going to take hormones?

NO dude. It should not even get that far. I WILL demand them even more, and the folks will either fight more and break up or they will let me go to save marriage. Win-win.

U sure dude. I mean, HORMONES. What if they decide to have u take them?

There is NO WAY they will let me take them. Chill dude.

Worried. B careful.

Aw Bernard. U so sweet. U best boyfriend a chick like me could ask 4.

BILL WHAT

Psych, dude! ROFLMAO!

~o~O~o~

The next night, Gwen received a call on the home phone in the living room. She looked at the caller ID: Roberto Ramos. She sighed and answered. “What do you need, Robby?”

“Well, hello to you too,” said the voice on the receiver. “That’s a rude way to answer the phone, even for your ex-husband.”

“You only call if you’re in need. It would be great if you called regularly just to shoot the breeze with one of your three kids. But no, it’s only once or twice a year, and then it’s for a favor, or money, or something. So …?”

“I’m going to make you a liar, Gwen. See, I AM calling to see if I can come over and talk to one of our kids.”

“Only one? Let me guess. Bill.”

“Yeah. Is it true what I heard? That he’s a pansy little sissy now?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Malachi told me. Sometimes I call him on his cell. He still speaks to me nice, like a son should treat his father.”

That’s because I divorced you when he was 5; too young to remember how horrible you were, Gwen fumed silently. “Malachi described Bill as a pansy sissy? Those words?”

“No. He said his bro was wearing dresses. How in the hell are you letting him do that? What did you do to him? l bet the problem is that damn homeschooling; all he does is hang around with ‘Mommy’ all day, and now he wants to be you.”

She ignored the verbal insults. “Robby. If ‘Willow’ wants to talk with you on the phone, then I’ll let her. But if you get abusive or threatening, then the conversation’s over.”

“You mean I can’t come over in person?”

“Did you hear the words ‘abusive’ and ‘threatening’? You were a hair’s breadth from assaulting me the last time we met in person. This talk happens on the phone or not at all.”

“Fine. Get the faggot on the line.”

Gwen went to the home intercom. “Willow – please come out to the living room. Your dad – Roberto – is on the phone and wants to talk.”

Willow came, wearing a spaghetti strap top and a denim mini skirt along with some make up and her wig. “Talk? About what?”

“He heard about your dressing, and he’s not happy. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want.”

“No, I’ll have to some time. Might as well get it over with.” She reached for the phone.

“Honey, do it via speaker. If he gets bad, I need to hear it.” Willow nodded and punched the SPEAKERPHONE button on the phone base.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Bill? What’s this-“

“Dad. It’s Willow now.”

“SON. What’s this I hear about you wanting to be a girl?”

“I don’t want to be; I am one. I should have been one from the start,”

“Uh, Bill –“

“Willow.”

“SON! You were never a girl. You, of all my kids, were the most boyish of boys. I dreamed of us cruising the strip someday with some hookers and a bottle of tequila, father and son. What the hell happened?”

Willow decided to turn the sugar and spice up to 200%. “Daddy. Can I call you that? I really want to. Anyway, Daddy – I’ve been living a lie all my life, and I just didn’t realize it until this month. I’m not your son, Daddy; I’m your daughter.”

“So do you rent chick flicks and cry a river watching them?”

Willow’s tone became suddenly harsh. “No, Daddy. I may be a girl now, but I still don’t cry. I can’t cry; it doesn’t ‘happen’ for me. Not since –“

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me. Not since I spanked you so hard as a little kid that I left welts on your butt. That was good for you, SON. It hardened you up. Until you decided to do this girly act. I have to tell you, this is a huge disappointment for me, you being like this. I need to let people know that whatever made you do this, it ain’t from me. None of your freaky faggot flamin’ tranny tendencies are from my side of the family, got it? In fact, just don’t consider me your Dad until you come to your senses. And I better not ever hear you call me ‘Daddy’ one goddamn time more. Do you hear me, you piece of shit?”

Gwen gasped and reached out for the END CALL button, but Willow’s left hand blocked her. The girl glanced at her mother and did a quick shake of the head. She remained silent; her eyes were wide open, her breathing slow and measured, with just a slight tremor in her clenched, white knuckled right hand. In her head, a savage conflict was occurring.

Don’t lose it, don’t lose it, don’t blow it, don’t blow your top THAT SON OF A BITCH I’LL SHOVE HIS no, no, no, NO, no I won’t! If I revert to Bill now I blow the plan! That bastard doesn’t deserve to have me throw away my freedom for him. There’s another way to get him. Yes, that’s it. Breathe. In. Out. Ahhh. Now … what would Willow say?

“Hey – I said, do you hear me, you piece of-“

“YES. Yes I heard you, loud and clear. Look, sir. You may hate my guts. Fine; I still need to be who I need to be. And no matter how much hate you give me, I’m going to always have a love for you. ‘Cause you’re my Daddy. But I won’t allow you to see me or talk to me ever again.

“I’ll have a successful life without you, Daddy. I’m going to wear bikinis at the beach and have boys want me. I’m going to get married someday in a huge white dress, and have my husband take me to Tahiti for our honeymoon. He’ll be making love to me under the stars. As he does, I’ll be thanking you, Daddy.

“See, I’m a girl because of you. I grew up with you as the man in my life. I saw you hitting your wife and kids. I saw you ignore us and steal from us, and stay drunk all weekend every weekend. So a few weeks ago I realized: If you are the example I have to follow to be a man, then I’d rather not be one. Being a girl is so much better than risking growing up to be like you.

“Now you have a nice life, Daddy. Goodbye.”

Willow punched the end call button and turned to her stunned mother. She took a big breath then exhaled it.

“Momma, I – I need something to cool me down.”

“You and me both, Willow. There’s some Blue Bell ice cream in the freezer; I’ll scoop us some. And by the way, daughter – I’m so proud of you.”

~o~O~o~

The tension in the Eiken’s Cadillac Escalade was high. Willliam was driving; he’d rescheduled two patients and drove home so he, Gwen and Willow could go to Dr. Estrada’s office for their appointment. Willow had forced the issue, demanding to get started on testosterone blockers and hormones. She refused to let the subject drop and had been pleading day and night for most of the week to get her way.

Gwen held her husband’s right hand from her spot in the front passenger seat. The couple had talked about how to deal with these demands. William was pretty sure that she couldn’t get a hormone prescription at the age of 15; he’d done some internet research regarding transgender estrogen therapy. Gwen explained that to Willow, but she refused to accept the information from her parents. So today Dr. Estrada would give Willow the news and she’d have to accept it. It seemed a simple thing to accomplish.

So why is my stomach doing flip-flops, wondered Gwen.

Willow continued to act cool, but inside she was determined and just a little concerned. Things were never supposed to have gotten this far. She’d been sure that her demands would have had her kicked out for being a biblical abomination; either that, or her Mom and Stepdad would have fought so bad they’d have split up, weakening their resolve on her perpetual grounding. Either way, there was no way that her parents would consider allowing her to take chemicals to change her sex. Except now the three of them were going to the gender specialist to discuss that very thing.

The teenager had dressed up in her most girly presentation so far: a bright yellow sundress with a floral sash, strappy sandals on her feet, large hoops dangling from her ears. Her skills in dressing and makeup had really blossomed over the last two weeks. Finger and toenails were painted yellow, eyebrows were evenly thin and arched, eyes were gorgeously adorned with shadow, liner and mascara. Her long bob wig was framed perfectly around her face. A light spritz of Chloe’ perfume topped off this ultra-feminine cupcake.

Maybe as the folks see me like this it will push them further towards the edge. Maybe the Professor will think I’m doing too much to fast, and will tell me to back off. Either way, I can’t let any of them know this is just a sting. Don’t abandon the plan. Except as a last resort. What would a “last resort’ situation be? Willow wondered.

“Hello, Eiken family. Is everyone comfortable?” Dr. Estrada entered the therapy room where Willow and her folks had been waiting. He was a heavy-set fellow with some moderate male pattern baldness; his hair was black with grey mixed in. Thick glasses sat on his nose, and his brown jacket squeezed a little too tight around his shoulders as he sat down and leaned towards his clients.

"Well, I was comfortable," replied Willow, "until your nurse poked me with a needle to draw blood as soon as I got here. What was that for?"

“It has everything to do with the reason that you are here; I need to check your baseline levels if we consider therapy. After all," Estrada stated, "I was told by my assistant that you, young lady, want to start on medication?”

Willow spoke up. “Yes sir, please. I can’t stand the thought of puberty changing me into a man; that grosses me out.”

“You are in the midst of male puberty right now, Willow. Your voice seems a little more masculine than the average child’s, but not really drastically low in tone. Your muscles have some definition, and your shoulders appear to be getting wide. Hair growth is starting on your chin, though I didn’t see any on your torso during my first exam. It’s impossible to tell how much more masculine you’ll get, but I suspect you have a lot more to come – unless we intervene.”

“Ugh! I hate my chin hair! We’ve got to do something. Starting hormones now is my best chance to become as real a girl as I can, right?”

“But wasn’t it just a few months ago that you were doing many macho things of your own volition? Lifting weights and getting all those muscles; talking with your stepfather about ‘getting a chica so I can get some pussy’?”

“Well, I still would like a pussy – but I want to own it,” she smiled. “I think I acted macho to try to drown out any girl urges.” At least that’s what all those online transgender testimonials say, Willow thought. “I muscled up and joined the army because I was …” what’s the word they used?

“So you think you were overcompensating?” offered Estrada.

THAT’S the word! “Yes – I think that’s why. But I am so much calmer; life is so much sweeter now that I’m living my true life. It will be ruined if I get all hairy and deep-voiced, though! But my parents – ESPECIALLY my Momma – won’t allow it! I think William disagrees with her on this, and they have been fighting – hooo boy, have they ever!. The stress level is getting worse and worse. I don’t know if I can continue to live this way.”

“Oh? Willow – have you been considering ending your life?”

“What? NO!” Wait a minute – if I was, would that help my plan? “Uh … I mean, I don’t know - maybe?”

Estrada turned towards the parents. “Has Willow continued to be pleasant and obedient, or has she relapsed into the rebelliousness and anger that she had when she was Bill?”

The mother replied. “Actually, she is an absolute joy. She listens, she minds, she opens up and talks to me at times. And the other day she handled a difficult phone conversation with her birth father with such aplomb and restraint! I have to confess – I absolutely love her as my daughter.” Gwen’s voice started to falter. “The problem is, she isn’t my daughter. She’s my son. I still believe it is morally wrong for my son to change his sex.” Now tears were running down her face.

Prof. Estrada nodded and pursed his lips; then proceeded to a different subject. “You remember that on our first visit I said most transgender girls will want to have hormone therapy; that it’s something you’d eventually have to deal with.”

William’s eyes widened. “But the key word is ‘eventually’, right? Willow’s barely had two weeks of living and dressing like this full time.”

“Yes. However, my theory is that she is highly overdue for her transition; her dysphoria was probably the driving factor behind all of her rebellion and lawbreaking behavior. Further delaying her transition could lead to a relapse of that, I fear. It is absolutely imperative that we start testosterone blockers. And it’s probably advisable to start estrogen as well.”

Gwen now was bawling; William looked as if he was in shock. He finally recovered his voice: “Hey! Everything I’ve read on transgender females and hormone therapy says they usually wait ‘til a child is 18 to start estrogen!”

“That was true. However, the thinking on that is changing. I am one of the ones who believe 15 years old is not too young to start hormone therapy. There are a number of cases around the country now where this has been done.”

“But what if Willow changes her mind later – decides after eight months or so that she really doesn’t want this? These drugs will give her irreversible side effects by then!”

“Probably not completely irreversible. She might want to have her sperm frozen just in case. If she decided to detransition, any effects that lingered probably could be dealt with by surgery. But these are all moot points; I’m nearly 100% confident that she will be fulfilled, happy and more socially and psychologically stable with this medical treatment.”

“But … I don’t feel right about this. I’m a man of science, a professional like you, but this is too fast, too soon, and we’re still too uncertain about Willow’s motives.”

Estrada shrugged. “I don’t sense any deception in her.”

Boy, do I have him fooled, Willow thought. I’m so damn good at this. Too good, maybe. This dude wants to start me on hormone pills! But Mom and William won’t let it happen; then we go to court. This is it, my moment of freedom.

Estrada now frowned at William. “You have valid concerns. But I feel the danger of delaying transition outweighs the dangers of starting now. If you don’t agree, I think you could be putting your own fears above the welfare of your child.”

William paled as he contemplated those words. There it is – the implicit threat of legal action. The doc mentioned Child Protective Services in the previous visit. If I resist, they take Bill away and start the therapy. If I agree, he stays with us and gets the therapy. Either way he gets hormone therapy. My God. It has come to this.

William grabbed Gwen’s hand and squeezed it. “Okay, Doctor. If this is really medically sound, and if Willow really wants it, she can have the blockers.”

“I do recommend the estrogen also,” Estrada added.

“Dammit. Why can’t we …” William’s shoulders were slumped in defeat. “Okay, that too.”

Willow’s jaw hit the floor and her mind went blank.

Estrada smiled. “Excellent. Now, Willow, this is a big decision. Are you sure this is what you want?”

The girl finished scraping her chin off the ceramic tile and responded. “Oh yes! This is my dream come true!” … No problem. I’ll just flush the pills down the john daily. It’ll look like I’m taking them, and I’ll be one of those trannies that the estrogen just doesn’t seem to work on. There are trannies like that, right?

“All right. William, please sign these forms and slips – there are a lot of them. Willow, read through these warnings and what to expect. I’ll be back with your medicines.”

“Hey, wait!” William was looking for a way out of this madness. “Don’t we have to have a second opinion from like an endocrinologist to start this?”

Estrada tilted his head. “Did I not give you my card last time? I’m dual board certified, in psychiatry and endocrinology. A full service gender specialist physician, able to do all but the surgeries. I’ll be back with your shots, young lady.”

When he returned, Willow spoke up. “Shots? Uh, Doctor - can’t I take pills?”

“These injections are what I prefer to use with my patients, Willow. It ensures compliance. They’ll need to go in your buttocks, one for each side. Your mother can act as our female chaperone. Bend over, please.”

And just like that, Willow was on estrogen and blocker therapy.

Estrada gathered up the signed forms. “Included in the consent forms were forms to apply for a legal name and gender change. I’ll get my staff to work on them, but it will take weeks for it all to go through. Meanwhile, Willow, I’ll see you back here every 2 weeks for your shots and your required counseling.” He then left the therapy room.

William stood up unsteadily, still reeling from what had taken place. “I feel like we all just tried to take a quick peek into a sausage machine, got sucked in and spat out the other side, a trio of weenies roasting on the grill.”

Gwen still was sniffling; she walked to Willow and pulled the child’s head to her shoulder. “God, honey … I hope this isn’t a huge mistake … but you’re happy at least, right?”

Willow could manage only a whisper. “Yeah, Momma. Like I said, it’s a dream come true.” She tried to pull up The Plan in her head, but couldn’t find herself on the diagram. She’d gone off the paper, over the edge.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

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