After Dana's mother leaves her feeling less than womanly, Michelle looks for a cure that will make her feel better about herself. Mike versus Michelle: Part 19 The Cure By Sharon Parsons

---

 
As I said earlier, I was glad to see the grandparents go home. The situation with Margie had left me depressed and questioning myself, even though she was sweet and had done nothing but give me compliments. I think I felt bad because she had reminded me that I wasn't 100% female. Even so, I did my best to shake off the feeling.

Cam and Gary had another week off from school before they had to go back after New Years, but Dave had to go back to work on the 27th. Of course he only had to work for a couple days before getting off for New Years. He and the boys were looking forward to watching the bowl games on TV. So was I.

I love college football! Watching football with my Dad had always been one of my favorite things to do, next to dressing up in my mother's clothes. Oddly enough, I had the best of both worlds. I was now free to put on a dress, light a cigarette, and watch the game. I could even drink a beer or a glass of wine if I was so inclined.

Dr. Martha said there wasn't anything wrong with enjoying the things I had once enjoyed as a boy. But she reminded me to enjoy them in moderation. Don't make a guy out of yourself, she'd say. Remember your priorities. My family was my priority and I couldn't afford to let them see me out of character.

****

Dave and I resumed our sex life immediately after the grandparents left. Its fair to say he wanted sex more than I did. My hesitation wasn't based on a lack of love for him. Dana was right about my growing to love Dave. I thought the world of him.

I never withheld sex from Dave and I put on a good front. I didn't see the need to burden him with my problems, because I thought my problems would leave with Margie.

Dr. Martha never said I'd be completely well. By completely well, she meant there would never be a time when I forgot my boy roots. Football bowl games on TV and having a penis between my legs, and the recent memory of my conversation with Margie made it very difficult to forget my boy roots. If anything, I was focusing on them.

****

One night, after we made love, I brought up the subject of sexual reassignment surgery (SRS). I asked Dave what he thought about it.

Not surprisingly, he answered my question with a question of his own. He asked if having a vagina was important to me.

I thought his answer was a cop-out and I told him so, but he disagreed. He said that with something like SRS, my wants and needs should come before his own.

I asked, "But wouldn't you be happier if I had a vagina?"

"Having a vagina wouldn't make me love you any more than I already do," said Dave.

"I know you love me, but I want you to be happy," I said. "There's a difference."

Dave took my chin in his hand and guided my eyes toward his. "I am happy," he said. "You make me very happy."

I pulled away and lit a cigarette for myself. I inhaled a puff and allowed the smoke to settle in my lungs before exhaling. "Doesn't it bother you that some people know we have sex and they know I have a penis?"

"Those same people aren't going to forget you were born a boy if you get SRS. You didn't answer my question honey. I'm already happy and I love you more than life itself. So we're not talking about what I need. I have what I need. We're talking about you. What do you need to be happy?"

"I don't know Honey. I actually think I was happy before I talked to Dana's mom."

"So what changed to make you unhappy?"

"I didn't say I wasn't happy. Its just that she reminded me that I'm really not the woman I thought I was. And that got me thinking about everything." I took a puff from my cigarette and exhaled toward the ceiling. "I don't know if you figured it out yet, but I'm not exactly what you'd call normal by any stretch of the imagination. I'm weird Dave. I really am."

"I know you have some issues..."

I laughed. "Issues? Yeah, I'll say."

"Let me finish," said Dave. "I know you have some issues with..., how should I say this?...with your imagination. You told me about the fantasies you had when you were younger. I understand that."

"You do?"

"Actually I do," said Dave. "You're not the only guy in the world whose ever had thoughts about things that aren't exactly conventional or traditional."

"Are you trying to tell me that you did the same thing when you were younger? You know, dressing up in your mother's clothes or something like that?"

"No. But I have wondered what it would be like to kiss another guy and basically do the kinds of things that we do together."

"Does that mean you think you're gay or bisexual?"

"No. But that's what I'm trying to say. You don't have to be a certain way to have certain thoughts about certain things. Everyone has thoughts. Its just that most people don't act on them, but you did."

"Did you really want to kiss another guy before you married me?"

"Not for real, I didn't. It was just something I wondered about. There's no harm in thinking about things from time to time."

"So when you kiss me; do you think you're kissing a guy, or am I woman to you?"

Dave didn't answer immediately and that made me worry.

"Our relationship is a lot more complex than me thinking of you as a boy or a woman. If you're looking for a short answer, I'll tell you that I think of you as a woman. But its not that simple. I've known you since you were a little boy. Like you said, I used to coach you in little league. Beside that, you're Cam's best friend. Or at least you were his best friend. Things like that have a way of complicating the situation. Don't you think?"

I finished off my cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. "So in other words, I guess you're saying it doesn't matter if I have a penis or a vagina, because you're always going to think of me as a boy."

"Don't say it like its a bad thing Michelle. It's just the way things are. But I want you to be happy. If getting a sex change is going to make you happy, then I think its something we should look into. So do you think that having a vagina would make you forget about your past?"

"No."

"But you're interested in getting one?"

I shook my head no as I picked up my cigarette case. "I didn't say I was interested. I just wanted to know what you thought about it."

"I know you've been depressed for the last couple days," said Dave as he took the lighter out of my hand and held the flame for me. "I was hoping you'd snap out of it. I hear a lot of people get the blues right after Christmas."

I reminded him that I was Bipolar and that my depression was a lot deeper than having the blues.

"I know," said Dave. "I didn't mean to make light of it. Its just that you never want to talk about it, so I called it the blues. Is it bad right now?"

I admitted that I didn't feel very well. "But its more than that," I said. "I feel real confused about who I am and what I want."

Dave's eyebrows rose up. "I see," he said. "Does that mean you're questioning your relationship with me and the boys?"

"Its not that I don't love you all, because I do. It's just that sometimes everything I'm doing just seems so crazy. Like right now, I'm wondering how everything got as far as it did. I was just playing around in my mom's clothes one day and I got caught. And look what happened," I said as I took one of his hands and placed it on my breasts. "I've got real boobs now. And look at this," I said as I held my cigarette up. "I'm a smoker and I can't quit. Its everything Dave. I'm your wife and Cam's mother and Gary's too, and I'm not even 18 yet."

"I love you Michelle. But if you're not happy..."

I covered his mouth with my hand. "Don't say it! I am happy and I love you. I don't ever want to leave you and I'd die if you ever left me. I'm just confused and sometimes, like right now, my brain doesn't work very well. And the weird thing is that I'll probably feel all better by tomorrow. But right now I want to cry. I know that probably doesn't make sense, but that's way I feel and it happens a lot."

"Maybe you should talk to Dr. Collins about changing your Symbyax prescription. Maybe she can put you on a higher dose, or change it to something else. Does she know you feel this bad?"

I shook my head no.

"You need to tell her Michelle."

I nodded and took a puff from my cigarette. "Okay. I'll tell her at my next appointment."

"I don't think you should wait until then. Will you do me a favor and call her tomorrow?"

"Okay," I said. "But I need a favor from you too."

"Anything Honey. Just say it and its yours."

"Will you make love to me?"

****

I thought about a lot of things while Dave made love to me. But it wasn't as if my mind was somewhere else. I was with him and we were in rhythm. As far as my state of mind was concerned, I was "experiencing" the act of Dave making love to me.

Did it physically hurt? No it didn't.

Did it physically feel good? Well it didn't feel bad. It felt weird. It was kind of like having to poop- but it wasn't painful.

I thought about my penis. It was slightly erect and I could feel it being mashed between our stomachs as he pushed in and pulled out. I wondered if he noticed it the way I did. It didn't feel natural to me. But it did feel familiar.

I wasn't sure if my penis was a friend or an enemy. I didn't know if I could live without it. But could I live with it? Could Dave? He said he could. But what about me? What did I want?

There had been times when I was somewhat disgusted when we made love. Of course it was a fleeting kind of disgust and it didn't stick to my ribs. It was nothing like the first time Dave made love to me. That had been vile, even though he'd done it lovingly.

I thought about Margie, Dana's mom. What would she think if she saw Dave and I like this?

I closed my eyes and went back in time. I saw myself as a boy. I think I was probably five or six, however old you are when you're in 1st grade. I saw myself in my parent's room, sitting on the edge of the bed as I watched my mother putting on her make-up.

I remembered how enthralled I was as I studied the way she smoked her cigarette. I could see her reflection in the mirror. She's so pretty, I thought. What would it be like to be like her? I wanted to know.

As my hips rocked back and forth beneath Dave's weight, I thought about my mother. I was so proud of her and I wanted so badly for her to be proud of me- but not as a boy.

I remembered thinking that Halloween would be my savior. I'd ask her if I could go as a girl. It was the perfect excuse. But Halloween came and went year after year without my asking.

I didn't get dressed up as a girl for Halloween, but I did get up the nerve to try on her clothes when I was in second grade. They were too big for me but I didn't care. I pretended I was pretty like her as I played in front of the mirror.

I kneaded my fingers into Dave's bare back as he plodded along. Sometimes I'd say his name and tell him how wonderful he was doing. And all the while he made love to me, I wandered through my past, trying to make sense of the things I'd done.

Everything I'd done had been done for fun. I did it because it felt good and because it made me feel excited and horny. I remember the feeling of my mother's pretty clothes against my skin and the thrill I got from pretending to be a woman like her. I remember wanting that feeling to last forever!

I can also remember never being satisfied. If only my hair was longer. Or if only I could fill the cups of my mother's bra. It was always something. And of course there was the cigarettes. I wasn't satisfied holding a pencil or an unlit cigarette. I wanted the real thing, even though that didn't come until later.

As Dave grunted and pushed, I tried to remember what I thought about guys in general. I'd always liked guys as friends. But I never really looked at one and said, hmmm, I wonder what it would be like to be with that cute guy. Of course that was when I was in boy mode. My thoughts were always more normal when I was in boy mode.

I thought about Dave's penis and the way if felt inside my bottom. I remembered the taste and feel of it when it was in my mouth. I recalled the ammonia type flavor of his sperm. As a boy, I'd never imagined have sex with another male. The idea was just too repulsive to think about. But I did think about men when I was dressed in my mother's clothes. It was okay to think about men when I felt and looked like a woman.

I could tell by the way he was grunting and pushing that Dave was close to having his orgasm.

"Come on baby. You can do it," I said. "Cum for me honey."

I opened my eyes in time to see the contorted and twisted expression on his face as he emptied his sperm into my bottom.

Did I love him? Did I? Without a doubt, I did. I was hopelessly in love with Dave Holsteader.

"I love you sweetheart," I said as he rolled off of me and onto his side.

"I love you too Michelle."

I sat up in bed and reached for Dana's cigarette case which was now mine. I thought about the conversations she had had with my mother about wishing she could quit. I remember thinking how strange that sounded to me. I couldn't understand why my mother or Dana would want to quit smoking when it made them look so sexy, beautiful, and powerful.

Of course I wasn't a smoker back then. I could only imagine what it must be like to be addicted to something so wonderful. In my mind, being addicted was a good thing, because that meant you couldn't quit.

Who'd want to quit? I wondered, as I pulled a cork-tipped Winston from the case and lit it. Me. That's who.

Everything about being a woman had looked so wonderful when I had been standing on the other side of the fence. But now that I had climbed the fence, things seemed very different.

I lit my cigarette and inhaled the smoke deep into my lungs before exhaling. I looked at Dave and smiled warmly. He was a good man and I was fortunate to have him as my husband.

"What are you thinking about," he asked?

"A lot of things."

"Like what?"

I blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. "Good things. Bad things. And questionable things."

"What's a good thing," asked Dave?

"You and the boys. I love the three of you more than I thought I could love anything or anybody."

"I like the sound of that," said Dave. "What kind of bad things were you thinking about?"

"These things," I said as I held the burning cigarette in front of me. "I'd give anything if I could quit them."

"Maybe you can," said Dave. "I did it."

I laughed as I exhaled. "And you gained almost 20 pounds," I said as I rubbed his round tummy. "I'll get fat if I quit. What would you rather have, a skinny wife that smokes or a fat one who doesn't?"

Dave grinned and patted my flat tummy. "I'm not going to answer that one," he said. "But what are the questionable things you were thinking about?"

"This," I said as I took hold of my penis and pulled it up. "I was wondering what it would be like not to have it."

Dave frowned. "You don't have to make any changes for me honey. I love you just the way you are."

"Are you sure?"

I watched as Dave reached between my legs and took my penis between two of his fingers and kissed it.

"Oh Dave!" I said as my penis grew erect. "I love you so much honey, but you don't have to do that."

Without saying anything, Dave lowered his mouth onto my penis and began sucking. I lifted the cigarette to my lips and enjoyed it as he brought me to orgasm.

****

I told Dr. Martha about the depression and guilt coming back with a vengeance. She agreed with Dave that it would be a good idea to increase my Symbyax dosage. We also talked about the possibility of my getting SRS.

Dr. Martha wasn't thrilled with the idea of my getting a complete sex change. However, she wasn't totally against it either. She said we should talk about it and that I should sleep on it and then we could talk about it some more.

She was afraid that I was trying to cover up my original problem by using SRS. She said SRS wasn't a cure for the problems that were plaguing me. She told me I couldn't deal with the root of the problem by changing the face of the problem.

I understood what she was saying. It all went back to my reasons for wanting to put on a dress in the first place.

I was and am a cross-dresser. I've never felt like I was in the wrong body. I don't feel the need to be a woman but I am obsessed with presenting myself as one and reveling in the experience. I did what I did because it was the path of least resistance as far as my urges were concerned. By marrying Dave, I had created a feminine world where I could safely act on my urges.

"SRS is evasive, expensive, painful, and permanent," said Dr. Martha. "Its a cure for some transgendered people, but its not a cure for you."

"Does that mean you don't want me to get it," I asked?

"It doesn't matter what I want. I'm just here to advise you. SRS isn't going to kill you. Its physically safe, so I'm not concerned with your physical well being in regard to the surgery. I'm more concerned about your state of mind and how you'll emotionally respond to the change."

Dr. Martha said that I should only proceed with the surgery if I felt confident that having a vagina would improve the quality of my life.

"But how will I know that unless I do it," I asked?

"You won't," said Dr. Martha. "You'll have to trust your instinct when it comes time to make the decision. That's why I want you to think about it and re-think it. There's no such thing as a sure bet. Life is a gamble, but some wagers are better than others."

I left her office with plenty of food for thought and I quickly invited my mother to join me at the buffet.

*****

My mother wasn't surprised that I expressed an interest in getting SRS. She was just surprised that I had taken so long to consider it. Unlike Dr. Martha or Dave, who had both taken a stance of indifference, my mother thought it was a fabulous idea. She hugged me and cried when I told her I was thinking about it.

I love, adore, and look up to my mother. She has always been the most influential person in my life. As you know, I patterned my own life after hers.

I wouldn't be the woman I am today if it wasn't for my mother. That statement is true, but its also laced with sarcasm.

My mother was and is an enabler. I am a cross dressing sex addict with a smoking fetish. Together we make quite a pair. She enabled me by making it relatively easy to satisfy my urges.

Mom helped me put on a dress. She helped me get breasts. She helped me start smoking. She helped me stretch my anus by getting me a dildo. She helped me get married at 17 by signing a permission slip for the judge. She helped me replace my penis with a vagina.

My mother was an enthusiastic enabler and Dr. Martha was the referee. But I am the one who was and is ultimately responsible for the final decisions and the consequences of those decisions.

Dr. Martha had asked me to think on it and sleep on it and rethink the question of SRS over and over before making a decision. Three months would pass before I officially went forward with trying to obtain the surgery. It would be another year and two months before that decision evolved into a vagina. But it did happen, and I made the decision to get the surgery within five minutes of discussing it with my mother.

I'll never forget the exhilaration I felt as I sat at my mother's kitchen table with her. She was wearing a skirt and I was wearing a dress. We were both smoking cigarettes. She was so happy and excited for me as I told her that I was just thinking about SRS.

That urge of wanting to be just like her swooped over me. Damn the future and Damn the consequences. Just give me what I want and give it to me now.

But some things take time. Mom said good things come to those who wait. She also said that sometimes you have to take the bull by the horns. Mom said a lot of things but she always told me what I wanted to hear.

---