Some have requested that Katrina's story continue. If you want to see this through, let me know!

The email addresses are made up!

To: [email protected]
From: Kat432578@ gmail.com
Re: 3 days and Counting!

Hey, Marisa! I don’t have anything to do on this booooring flight, so I thought I would write a letter to you. I’ll email it when I get settled in after I land.

Wow, I sooo can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I mean, when you see me again, I’ll finally be rid of my “defect” ;). I’m totally excited and totally scared at the same time. I haven’t got anybody but myself to look after me once this is done, and I don’t know exactly how I’ll manage. But I’ve been there before, as you well know.

I guess on a more serious note, I want to thank you so much for being there for me. I know you didn’t approve of how I made my money, but you never judged me, and you were always there to let me cry on your shoulder when one of my “clients” got a little rough. I was such a handful, but you must understand that nothing was going to keep me from doing what I am about to do.

I *hate* what I am now. I can’t expect you to fully understand what I feel, because you were born whole. I am so happy for you for that. I have a giant hole in my heart that nothing will ever truly fill. I may have some of the equipment after this is all over, but for some reason, there will always be something missing. Oh, maybe I’m just a drama queen. I was able to turn a terrible event into the blessing that enabled me to miss dreadful boy puberty. I would have killed myself if I had to go through that.

Oh! Remember when I first told you I was turning tricks to pay for what I knew was coming? You said I was too pretty and nice to have to do that. Too pretty. You’ll never know what that meant to me. I knew what I was, but you wouldn’t let me believe it. You believed in me. I’ll love you forever for that. No, not in the “I want to screw your brains out” way, either. You’re cute, but I like boys.

After all the abuse I’ve taken over the years from boys and “men”, you wouldn’t think I would have any use for them at all. But I just can’t help but think there is that one special guy out there that will forgive me for what I’ve done and love me anyway.

I know what you’re thinking, Marisa. “Forgive” me? Well, I know I have a lot of emotional baggage, and it would be difficult to deal with if I were on the other end, so yeah. I can’t help but think I’ll be like a 14 year old girl stuck in puberty for the rest of my life, always wondering if I’m good enough or smart enough or sexy enough for the man of my dreams. Now I’m crying. I need to stop for a little bit.

Ok, I’m back. We are getting closer now, flying over China, I think. Please be there for me when this is done, okay? I’m really scared. What if something goes wrong? Will anybody miss me if I die? I know it sounds crazy, but I had a nightmare about being kidnapped after it’s done and never getting back home. I might call you at crazy hours, but you’re the only friend I have. Daddy will never come.

I filled out a will before I left, just in case. I left everything to you. If you don’t want it, there’s a plan for that too. Please take it. There’s enough for you to go to college on or whatever. Okay?
Ohh, what am I worried about. It’s not going to be that bad. The doctor put me in touch with a really cute tgirl who will help me through the worst part of my recovery. I talked to her via Skype and she seemed really nice. Her name is Phi, and she does this to help out new girls. I think I’ll need some help! 

I wish you could have come with me. I’ll miss you, and our late night talks. Well, I keep forgetting. We can still Skype! Yay!

There is a real creeper staring at me from across the plane. He has come back to go to the restroom like three times in the last hour. Nobody has to go that bad. Here he comes again…

He got the nerve to talk to me. I was polite and told him I was spoken for. As if he actually had a chance! I am such a bitch! I guess I should be thankful anyone takes a second look at me, but the thought of having that greaseball in bed…ewwwwww! Even I have my standards.

Check on daddy would you. Maybe you could come up with an excuse to go over, maybe to pick up something I forgot. I don’t know why I care, but do it for me ok?

I am reading again about the surgery. OMG, it is scary looking. The end result is nice, but I am going to look like hamburger for awhile . Think nice thoughts for me.

I’ll be going through major surgery, and you know what bothers me the most? Going in a bedpan. YUCK! The catheter will be bad enough, but the other? I hope I don’t have to.

I do so hope that all of the crap I had to put up with will be worth it. To be able to make love to a man, not just have them fuck me like an inflatable doll, using every hole I have but the one I want more than anything. That would be nice. There are a lot of girls who don’t want to get the surgery, and they seem happy. I wonder why the thought of that makes me sad. It would be a lot simpler, and I’d have spent about Thirty five thousand dollars less. I just wouldn’t feel whole, you know? (No pun intended)

Hey, if this is too stupid, or you’re bored, you don’t have to read it, Marisa. I’ll understand.

Ooohhh! A super cute guy looked at me and smiled! I smiled back. Maybe he’ll come back. I wonder if I should wave to him or wink or something. I really want to talk to him. What if he wants to go out? I mean, I do have three days until the big day. Eeeek! He’s coming back. Wish me luck! :)

OMG, Marisa. His name is Trent and he’s a grad student from USC! Dark brown hair, and BLUE EYES! We talked for about five minutes. He wants to meet after we land!

Oh, shit. What if he wants to do anything? I would so do him, but how? Does that make me a slut? Right. The whore is worrying if she’s a slut.
I am such a dope. What could he see in me? I guess I have a pretty face, but he needs a real woman, not a fake like me. Dammit. I hate myself. I wish I could ask you. You would know what to do.

“Talk to him” you would say. Like about what? “Oh Trent? I’m a she male from San Diego who has spent the last four years as a high class tranny whore to the rich and famous! What do you do?”

I need to stop now.

It’s been 30 minutes and I have spent it crying like a little girl over some guy I’ll never see again. I’ve been in worse situations than this and never batted an eye. I thought I was tough. I hate this. As if rearranging the furniture between my legs is going to change who I am.

What is the point? I’m going to do this no matter what. I have to. Why? Because I have done nothing for the past four years but take it from men and women. The worst perverts you can imagine. I’ve been spit on, come on, tied up, tied down, made to be nothing but a plaything, something less than human. This is my time. And if I can’t make this work. Then I won’t be back.

I’ll Skype you tonight, Mar.

XOXO

Katrina