Happy Bunny!

Fiction by Johnny Cumlately

My name is Barbara and I'm a happy bunny. After many years of uncertainty I seem to be on an even keel at last and know who I am.

It's Saturday morning and I've dressed casually in a plain white top and pale blue pull on draw-string jeans. I glance in the mirror before going into the kitchen for a modest breakfast. I look down over my breasts which now occupy a 42B bra. They have developed nicely over the last couple of years. I'm no sylph, but am a fairly standard 42, 32, 42. UK Size 16 clothes usually fit pretty well. Getting my waist down to manageable size was quite an effort but sensible dieting has helped. Breakfast in just orange juice and Ryvita.

I've arranged to drop in on my Mum for a coffee and then head into town to meet my friend Debbie for a light lunch and some shopping. I have to watch the budget, though, as I have a modest salary, albeit in a relatively secure job. I consider myself lucky.

I hate leaving the house in a mess so do a quick tidy up before going out. A dab of lipstick has to do for make up. Today is the third anniversary of Dad's death so I call at the florist for flowers for Mum. Dad worked hard all his life and was looking forward to retirement when he had a massive heart attack. Poor Mum was devastated and it made it all the more difficult for me to give her my news. I shall never know what Dad would have made of it, but Mum is fine with me now.

….......................................................................

As I drove over to Mum's place, memories came crowding back. At school as Johnny, I had never been keen on sports and much preferred to spend time in the art room. I loved to draw and paint — still do. I used to feel there was something wrong with me but could never quite put my finger on it.

Later, when I went away to college, I had my very first date. Mary and I got on famously for a time until she openly asked if I was gay as I had made no move on her and all the other boys in college seemed to have one track minds. I said “No way. Its just that I prefer girls' company as friends.”

A couple more dates with other girls ended in much the same way and that made me think that perhaps I wasn't a normal guy but I still couldn't figure out why. And that strange feeling of something wrong wouldn't go away. I seemed to enjoy the company of girls more than boys and felt much more comfortable with them.

It was in my last year at college that I first met Debbie. She was different and she was to change my whole life.

….......................................................................

“Hello, Dear. What lovely flowers. So glad you remembered. You look happy today, anyway and I'm so glad you've turned out to be such a super daughter.” I am very relieved that Mum has accepted me for what I am. It's one of the things that have gone right with me and greatly eased my path into my new life.

We chatted about various things for a while and then Mum asked me a question which completely took me by surprise. “You know, Dear, I have been reading up on this trans-sexual business.
When are you going to have the operation?”

I paused for a long time before I answered “I don't regard it as that important. Just having things between my legs or not isn't going to change my life. And anyway, I am afraid of what it might do to me.”

“But supposing you meet a nice man and fall in love? What would he think if he finds you're not a real girl but just a ladyboy?”

“No, mum. Ladyboys live in Bangkok and a lot of them work as prostitutes.”

“Well, you need to think about it.”

Fortunately, Mum let the matter drop and we chatted about various things for an hour until I said it was time I went to meet Debbie.

Driving into town, I again found myself remembering how Debbie came to be such an influence with me.

…................................................................

Debbie and I had been very close friends ever since college. I had kept in close touch when she started work as a physiotherapist and I got a menial job in the town planning department. I think she realised long before I did what had been troubling me all those years. We would meet regularly, sometimes in her nice flat and sometimes at my bachelor pad.

One day, she had suddenly asked me “Would you have liked to be a girl?”

I paused for thought before answering. “I've never really thought about that, but I think it would have been nice. But anyway, I'm male aren't I? Can't change that.”

“It's just that you seem to be much more comfortable with girls than boys. You seem to see things our way. Maybe you should try it.”

“Try it? What do you mean?”

“Well, you could try living as a girl and see if you like it.”

“I can't see how I could do that.”

“Maybe, I could arrange something.”

“Like what?”

“Well, how about you coming here next weekend and I'll show you.”

I knew Debbie well enough to trust her, so it was agreed that I would go to her place straight from work on Friday and stay until Sunday evening.

When I arrived, Debbie immediately showed me to her bathroom. “Strip off and I'll get you prepared.” As I stripped in front of her, I realised that I was not in the least self-conscious and that my cock made no attempt to get erect. She pushed me into the shower and sprayed some sort of shampoo all over me. “Wait a few minutes before you turn the water on.” When I did, I was amazed to see all be body hair wash off into the drain. I was never very hirsute, but now was as clean as a baby from the neck down. Even my pubic hair had gone.

Debbie helped me dry off and then took me into her bedroom where there was a pile of clothes laid out on the bed — girl's clothes.

“You really are intent on making me into a girl, then.”

“Just for this weekend to see how you get on.”

Starting with some panties and a bra stuffed with old tights and making sure that my male bits were properly tucked between my legs, Debbie proceeded to dress me in a top and skirt, tights, court shoes with fairly low heels and, of course a wig and make up. By the time she had finished, I could not believe that the girl looking back at me in the mirror was actually me.

“How do you feel?”

“Strange, but in some odd way it feels right.”

“I thought so. I've suspected for some time that you were more girl than boy. I suggest we take it easy this weekend and don't try to go out until you're ready for it. Just relax. Try to adjust. Remember we're just two girls together.”

Debbie had prepared a light meal and then we sat and watched a DVD. It was a sentimental film which I would normally have avoided, but again, it seemed right now and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

At bedtime, Debbie showed me to her spare room where she had put out a pink nightdress. She wished me sweet dreams and I turned out the light. Sleep did not come readily as my mind was in a whirl as I tried to make sense of my emotions. My main feeling was one of relief. Maybe Debbie was right about me. Eventually, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

We spent the weekend around her house enjoying girlie talk which seemed to come easily now I was dressed the part. And Sunday evening came all too soon and it was time for me to put my male clothes on and return home.

…...................................................................

Town was busy with Saturday shoppers but I found a place to park. Debbie was waiting in the small café where we had arranged to meet.

“Hi, Barbara! You look good today. How's your Mum?”

“She's fine, thank you, but she has started asking me some leading questions about my future. I'll tell you later.”

We ordered some food and chatted about work, weather, clothes and a lot more, before Debbie said she wanted some new clothes and we headed for a major department store where we spent a happy hour trying on several outfits. Debbie always had a good clothes sense and was always dressed to perfection, even when very casual. However, on this occasion she came away empty handed and after looking in a couple of other shops, we headed back to her place for a well earned cup of tea.

“Tell me what your Mum was asking about.”

“She's expecting me to have the operation and then find a nice husband! She's looked it all up on the internet.”

“Well mothers will be mothers, won't they? At least she'll know that she can't expect grandchildren — not unless they are adopted anyway.”

“I've been thinking about the operation. I've been female long enough for the medics to agree to it but I'm happy as I am and can't imagine wanting a boyfriend. And I readily admit to being scared of it. Quite apart from the physical side, would it change me psychologically?”

We talked about it for some time. Debbie has always been a wonderful sounding board for my thoughts but was careful not to try to influence me. “Just wait a bit. Your feelings may change.”

I drove home later full of thoughts and more memories.

…......................................................................

After that first weekend, I had not needed any further encouragement to dress up again. I spent most weekends with Debbie and was soon happy to go out with her. We went out for meals, to movies and — not least — shopping, as I needed to build up a small wardrobe of my own clothes. Debbie's advice on what to wear proved invaluable. Debbie also invited a few of her closest friends around and they seemed to accept me as the girl I was beginning to realise was the true me.

One day, Debbie said “Next weekend, take Monday off as well. I know you've a few days holiday due. I've arranged something for Monday.” She would not say what.

Come Monday morning, dressed as Barbara, we got in Debbie's car and she drove for over an hour eventually turning into a large hospital. At the main reception desk, she asked for Dr Hilary Robinson. The receptionist looked in her long list. “Go to the very end of this main corridor. Its the last door on the right.”

It was a very long corridor, but finally, we came to a door marked “Gender Clinic”. A nurse asked for a large form to be filled in. Debbie explained that I was the patient and handed it to me. Name at birth. Name now. Date of birth. Contact address. Names of parents. etc etc... and a space for me to sign authorising various tests. The nurse took a blood sample and said other tests would be needed later. Dr Robinson would see me in a few minutes.

I asked if Debbie could come in with me. Dr Robinson turned out to be a charming lady of about 50 who immediately put me at ease. An hour later, she had learned my complete life history.

“So you've only fairly recently discovered what you describe as your true self. But I must say you present as a very creditable female. And you say you still live as a male during the week.”

“That's mainly because I have to earn a living. I work for our local council in the planning department where they know me as Johnny and I might find it difficult to get a new job elsewhere as Barbara.”

“Fortunately, local government offices usually have very understanding personnel managers. Would you like me to speak to your manager and explain your problem? I know most of the personnel people for miles around.”

“Yes, please. That would be great.”

“Well, I'm sure you know that you must live entirely as a female before we can take your transition any further. In the meantime, I'm going to ask a colleague to interview you. We always try to have at least two opinions on all our patients.”

A couple of weeks later, the personnel manager, Ms Barker, asked me to go and see her. I was, of course, dressed male but I was glad she was female as I think I would have been embarrassed to talk about my problem with a man. She was very friendly and, as Dr Robinson had anticipated, very understanding. It seemed I was not the first trans-sexual she had come across. “I'm sure we can accommodate your wishes, but first I would like to meet your female persona. I will be happy to see you here in my office on Saturday morning. As you know, the office is nominally closed then so there will only be a few people around. Shall we say 11 o'clock?” I was happy to agree and duly turned up “en femme” dressed in a simple blouse and skirt. Ms Barker took one look and said “My word, Barbara! You really do our sex proud! No one who hasn't known you as Johnny would ever guess. I'm sure there will be no problems and I'll tell your immediate senior who he can expect to see gracing his staff in future.”

…............................................................

That was two years ago. My return to work as Barbara was not as daunting as I had feared and I was surprised how much support I received from most of my colleagues. The inevitable curiosity faded after a couple of days.

I finally ditched all my male clothes and Debbie and I went out to celebrate.

Dr Robinson agreed that I should start on a course of hormones and I attended the clinic regularly so that my progress could be monitored. Mum frequently asks whether I've found a nice boyfriend and I keep disappointing her. The truth is that I enjoy male company but have never felt any sexual attraction. Both Mum and Debbie sometimes ask when I am going to have “the operation”. I am in no hurry. Dr Robinson had told me that she would readily recommend surgery if I want it but said quite a few TS girls don't want it and I'm quite happy with my anatomy the way it is.

Debbie is still my best friend to whom I owe finding my true self. And I'm a very happy bunny!

Fiction by Johnny Cumlately.

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January 2013.