Bran has a lot to sort out with his life.

The battle was going very poorly for the elves.

The ladders were all encompassed, Multiple Fae were wandering around, tossing fire into the air. One or two were even tossing snowballs…in July. Where the balls hit, a big white cloud erupted. If there were defenders there, I'm sure that we would be losing people in droves.

I was tapped from behind, and someone said, "Go to your rally point."

"What?" I asked, but the person was already moving on.

"Follow me," Eolmir said.

"What's going on?"

"Apparently they're performing resurrection ritual."

"Resurrection?"

"Oh, that's right, you still don't know all the rules. I forget sometimes with how you take to combat."

"I have experience with combat…if only in my own mind."

He laughed a bit at this. While we walked, we talked about the rules. Some of them, like for combat, were straight forward. They also let me know how I could 'kill' instead of just maim a man in plate armor.

We talked about the basics of ritual magic, which apparently anyone could do with enough time. One such ritual was the resurrection circle we were going to.

What really interested me, though, was the story about the world we were playing in.

This was earth, but not the earth we'd been born to. At the start of the renaissance the Fae had realized that they were going to be destroyed if the progress of technology continued the way that it had been. Apparently knowledge is anathema to magic. Go figure.

So, they'd brought together all of the denizens of Faerie among which the Elves then numbered, and performed a Grande Ritual.

They'd thought to completely destroy mankind and create a world they could once again inhabit openly. What actually occurred was a split. They created a world where humanity was in the minority and Fae were in the majority.

Our world went on without the Fae. This world went on without, or mostly without, humans.

Without the constant pressure of the humans, the elves realized that they no longer had to group with their cousins the Fae and there was a schism in Faerie. The ensuing war almost obliterated the lesser races of Faerie.

In the end, a nation of Faerie and a nation of Elves were left.

What happened to the humans you ask?

They did what our race always does. They retreated, regrouped, and came up with a plan.

The elves and Fae were not really allergic to iron, they were just unable to work it in Faerie. The laws governing that land are strange and not conducive to science.

So, the humans began to work iron and sell weapons to both sides of the conflict. When the Fae realized what the humans had done, the elves formed an alliance with the humans, and both armies faced off against the Fae on the field of battle.

The elves won their independence there, and the humans won a grudging respect in both the other nations.

That was about five hundred years ago. There have been wars and periods of peace since then. Currently, the war is actually over something a bit silly.

"You've got to be kidding me. That's what this war is about?"

"You slight our queen's honor?"

"But…he's human. You have to expect…"

"He declared his intent to marry her and bring a permanent peace to our peoples."

"But, it was the Fae princess masquerading as a human who seduced the King."

"Doesn't matter. He should have held himself pure."

"That's messed up."

"You have no idea."

"Wait…they were really getting married, weren't they. I mean real real, not game real."

"Yes, they were."

"So, when you say…what an asshole."

"My thoughts exactly. No magic was involved in his…dalliance."

"Kill all humans," I growled.

"Now you get it."

There were green flames surrounding a circle about ten feet on a side. Three men and three women in robes were making gestures and movements in the circle. We were standing with the other twenty eight elves who'd died protecting the ladders.

As I watched, they tossed something in the flames and they slowly shifted from green to red and then died out.

"That's our cue," Eolmir said. We went and lay down in the midst of the circle. The priests, or whatever, came and tapped each of us on the forehead and we 'woke up' from our dead state.

"Anything preventing us going en masse back to Kelethin?"

Eolmir shook his head.

I raised my sword into the air and called, "For the Queen and the Greenwood!"

"For the Raven!" Eolmir yelled.

Dawn was just beginning to break at this point. I hadn't realized that we'd been going all night, but I felt invigorated. The trip back to Kelethin took much less time than the trip out to the circle. We ran, my squad arrayed behind me.

"Form Line!" I called and slowed to a walk. I still didn't know if we have commands like that, but most of them understood what I meant and formed a proper line on me. I was at the right end, and they fell in on the left.

We advanced on the mob milling under the walkways. It was a massacre.

From the Grande Melee, I already knew that the elves were much more focused on group tactics than the other two armies had been. We stood our ground and waited for them to advance and used out superior tactics to blunt their superior numbers.

That morning we walked over the top of our opponents, literally sometimes. My sword arm was becoming fatigued by the time we got to the ladders and were finishing off the last of the army on the ground. Then we moved into the trees and took out the soldiers harassing the pockets of resistance left of my nation.

Every time we freed an elf or more, they joined in the formation. Our force grew, eventually including a squad of archers behind the advancing line of swordsman.

We had barely any resistance until we got to the primary platform. There was enough room there for them to be formed in ranks, and they had the tower shields I'd noticed earlier. They had their backs to us.

"For the Queen and the Greenwood!" I yelled as I charged.

"For the Raven" called the men and women at my back.

Arrows arced into the backs of those to the front and sides of me and then we were in their midst. The tower shield is great for protecting something at the front of a formation. The problem is that due to its size and bulk it makes turning around a bear.

Even as the humans tried to turn, the defenders inside the central palace I lost some of the elves with me, but we wiped the remaining humans from our city and once again retook the Greenwood.

They passed around water bottles and towels and we all sat where we were, the elves and the dead humans, and took a breather.

That had been intense. The sun was well up by this time and I was starting to feel it. It had been over twenty four hours since I'd awoken Friday morning. In between then and now I'd participated in a battle that had ranged all over the place.

The losers made their way out of the Greenwood toward the human occupied lands to the south. The winners...had business to take care of.

"So, Bran, it seems you had a very eventful first night."

"I died, Your Majesty."

"And were resurrected. I know. But how you died...was pretty epic."

"I know, right? Six people took me down at once."

The queen smiled at me. I smiled back, a bit unsure what was going on.

"Clear the chamber!" she called out.

I made a move to leave and she stopped me, "Not you, Bran. I wanted to talk to you alone for a moment."

"Me, your majesty?" I said a little more confused. I wondered what I could have done to warrant such close scrutiny.

"Call me Carol," she said with a smile, "Sam tells me he told you about the cause of the hostilities?"

"Yeah, something about the king...sleeping with someone else while engaged to you."

"That's the simple version."

"And the long version, I'm sure, includes a lot of recrimination, heart break, and sappy romantic comedies."

"Are you sure you're a boy?"

I blushed and looked down at my feet, "My mom is a girly girl, or so it seems most of the time. She's tried her best to instill the basic feminine understandings. Plus, these damned hormones seem to help a little as well. Not that I appreciate them, but..."

"It was a joke, Bran. Breathe. I get you're going through a tough time, but you need to realize not everyone is out to get you."

"Sorry...Carol."

"So, how would you like an interesting role in the coming conflict."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I want you to lead my armies...well army really."

"Aren't I a little young to lead?"

"Yes, you are the youngest person currently participating. That should be poetic justice."

"Why..?"

"Because cornflower was the youngest at the time."

"She was..."

"Legal, don't get me wrong, but it really stings being overlooked for a girl almost fifteen years younger than you are."

"Where do I enter into this?"

"How would you like to be my son...and the king's bastard."

"I don't know how I feel about being a bastard..."

"Mostly it's to give you a reason to be leading the elves into battle. You have a talent for this."

"There has to be someone else..."

"Oh, we have soldiers, I mean in the military currently. Sam is special forces."

"I wondered why he was so good at sneaking."

"Yes, there's a reason that I have him as a scout. The thing is, modern warfare uses a different skill set than ancient warfare does. You have the ability to see what is necessary to take the field."

"This was simple..." I began. I didn't think myself special. This had been a really simple skirmish. I'd just seen an opening and inserted myself into it. That was all. Nothing I'd done couldn't have been done by one of the other people playing last night.

"Without you participating, it's likely the Greenwood would have fallen last night. The elves would be slaves to the humans now."

"But, how..."

"The game is persistent, Bran. Anything we do this weekend continues to next weekend. We're crafting a story, and we live by the results of our actions."

"Oh...so if I hadn't acted..."

"We'd be having a much different conversation this morning."

I sat there stunned. I'd changed the course of the game.

"I understand if you're uncomfortable doing this..."

"No, if they'll follow me, I think I can do it."

"I think the calls of 'for The Raven' this morning were evidence of their willingness to follow you."

I blushed again, unused to the praise I was receiving. "I'll do it...mom."

She giggled a little like a schoolgirl when I said it. I smiled.

"Well, Prince Bran, call everyone back in."

The ceremony that followed was a bit long, very involved, and in my sleep deprived state I didn't register much of it. I remember smiling a lot, having robes put on me, and kneeling and standing a lot.

When it was done, I stumbled to the back end of the city, half fell down the ladder, and climbed into bed. I'd just fallen asleep, in my armor, when Gregor was there standing over me.

"Get Up, Forge Slave!"

I leapt to my feet...and just about fell flat on my face. Gregor laughed at me. I smiled, but followed him out, my heart racing. Well, there's one thing about an ogre waking you up...it really get's the blood flowing.

I was doing more scut work, but I was smiling the whole time. Something about the smell of hot metal really struck a chord in me that flowers and perfume never had. I spent the entire day running around, pumping bellows, getting wood, moving pig iron, and so on.

I was sweating, even more than I had while fighting off the humans, but the smile just wouldn't leave my face. This was something I really wanted to do with my life. Sure, there might not really be a future in it, but I was learning something real.

I collapsed into bed at around seven in the evening, having done nothing more than learn the basics of my job as assistant. It was dark out when Eolmir shook me awake.

"Bran, get up."

I groaned something, but got up and put my armor back on. It was...a bit ripe after leaving it in a pile all day, but I'd rather have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

"You look like death warmed over, Bran."

"People keep waking me up to work, Eolmir."

He laughed and I chuckled with him. I'd brought it on myself after all. We stumbled around the forest for a couple of hours, but there weren't any humans out her this evening, so I got to go back to bed. This time, however, I took care of my armor before I lay down.

I woke up before dawn and went up to the platforms to watch the sun rise through the trees. It was a beautiful sight. Sure, I was sleeping in a little shack off the side of the forge. It wasn't really camping, but I loved it and it was better than I'd ever imagined from what I'd seen online.

Breakfast over I was back in the forge with Gregor for a couple of hours.

"Could I be excused from the forge until about 1 pm?"

"What's up, Bran? Tired of this already?"

"Nope. They want me to start drilling and prepping the army. Everyone is supposed to be back, so I thought we'd work on our formations a little bit before lunch."

"Sure, let's close down everything. I want to see this."

"What..?"

"We have some pretty independent thinkers among the elves. I want to see you putting them to drill, young buck."

"That's 'prince young buck,' to you," I say with a smile.

Drill went as horribly as Gregor thought it would...at least until I began to get frustrated with it.

"You're good, I get that. You're older than me, which happens a lot. The thing is, without what little drill we did Saturday morning we would all now be slaves in the human settlement.

"Is that what you want?"

There were some mutters, and one or two angry exclamations.

"What we did was good enough."

"You're welcome to leave and go join the humans if that's how you feel. We're elves, which means we're better than that. We are concise, we are ancient, and we will make the humans regret everything that they've ever done to us. We will take them into slavery. They'll serve our needs. My father will bow down before our queen and submit to our righteous judgment."

People were actually cheering when I got done. Did it actually make things run smoothly? No, that would have taken a miracle, but it did make things run more smoothly than they did before I said something. There were still grumbles, but by the time we broke for lunch we were better at moving into, and out of, the basic formations than we'd been before.

While I was sitting at lunch, I had a wild idea, something that would take some planning, but I decided it was time to stop waiting for the humans to attack us and take the fight to them for once.

I worked for a couple of hours with Gregor in the forge after lunch, and then we were closing out the event, collecting trash from our camp sites and closing it down for the week. Gregor handed me a piece of paper when we finished closing up the forge.

"What's this?"

"My business address. In case you were serious about wanting to be my apprentice."

"I thought..."

"There's no way I'd work from here permanently."

We carted some half finished pieces to his truck, and I told him I'd be there early Monday morning. Then it was a matter of putting my new gear into my little hatchback and driving home.

The drive was nothing like it was on the way up. Where I was filled with happiness and hope and excitement before I was filled with nothing but dread now. I really didn't want to be on my way home now. The only thing that kept me on the road was my mantra. It was also what helped me deal with my mom.

"Three more months," I whispered to myself as I drove.

My birthday was in the middle of October, so that would mean I would be eighteen in three months and legally in charge of my own destiny. So, I'd just have to survive that long and then I'd be able to get a therapist...

And then everything came crashing down on my head. Mom was planning on getting a therapist for me. She wanted someone who would rubber stamp her ideas and get me...what?

I almost laughed a bit. The worst that could happen would be that she would force me to dress in skirts.

I drove into the garage at home and got my stuff out of the back. I hung my sword and buckler on a couple of pegs on the tool board that I didn't use anymore and took my armor out to the back yard. I cleaned it as well as I was able with a brush, promising myself I would look up the proper cleaning and care of leather online later.

I took my clothing and went to my room looking for something to wear around the house while I cleaned my laundry.

"What the hall, Mom!" I yelled when I set foot in the confection that my room had turned into. Gone were the cream walls, neutral comforter and beige carpeting.

The room was all lace and pink and purple. There were posters of pop singers like Katy Perry and other 'girl' bands.

"Do you like it honey?"

I tore down the posters and let them fall to the floor.

"Raven..."

"My name is Bran." I said with a certain amount of venom in my voice.

I opened the closet and looked at the damage in there. Gone were any semblance of a male wardrobe. My cargoes and slacks were missing. In there place were skirts of all descriptions. My drawers were full of girly tops.

Gone were my plain white cotton underwear. Lace and silk had replaced them.

"What the hell, Mom?"

"Do you like it?"

I glared at her, "what do you think?"

"Well, I thought..."

"I'm seventeen, Mom. I don't need you dressing me. I have a style I like. I have clothing that fits my personality and activity choices. I work in the metal shop at school, mom. I can't be wearing these...frills."

"But that's not for a month or so and I thought..."

"I got a job, mom, and I can't wear this...stuff to my new job."

"When did you get a job?"

"This weekend. I've apprenticed myself to a blacksmith."

"That again?"

"Yes, mom, that again. I need real clothing to work."

"Fine, will get you some work clothing, but I expect you to wear this anytime you're not working."

"Not gonna happen."

"While you're under my roof you will..."

"Three months, Mom."

"Excuse me?"

"In three months I'm moving out. For three months I will not be living by your rules. I will wear what I want. If you want any sort of relationship with me after this mess, then you won't dare try to force this on me."

"This is just a phase."

"Is that what your pet therapist said?"

She colored a bit and looked away.

"What, mom?"

"All the therapists I talked to..."

"They agreed with me?"

"Well, they mostly said they'd have to talk to you before making a determination, but..."

"They said it was my choice, and they weren't going to rubber stamp your backward ideals?"

"I will not allow you to talk to me in this manner!" she said, getting angry.

"You destroyed my room, Mom. How do you expect me to treat you? With respect? Try showing a little if you expect it in return. I'm almost an adult, Mom. I don't deserve this treatment."

She stood there with her mouth open, just looking at me.

"What, did I grow another head?" I said turning my head and trying to see my back."

She snorted.

"No, you're so...forceful. A little like your father..." she said.

I smiled a bit sadly at that. It made me feel good to be likened to my father, but it was another reminder of how much I missed him.

"Mom, I am a boy. Why can't you accept that?"

"Because I want you to have the big wedding with the beautiful dress. I want grandkids one day. I want to meet your handsome husband and know someone will be taking care of you."

"Why can't I be the handsome husband introducing you to my wife?" I ask.

"You're a lesbian?"

"No, I'm heterosexual. I'm male in here," I say touching my chest, "and up here," I say touching my head.

Something clicked behind my mother's eyes and then she smiled.

"Oh, I see. You're a boy. You like girls."

"You okay, Mom?"

"I was really afraid you were a lesbian," Mom said with a little smile.

"Would that really be a bad thing?" I say with a little smile.

"I fear for you, Ra...Bran. People don't like things that are different...that they don't understand."

"Mom, if I look like a guy, most people will accept me as a guy. I won't need to worry about it."

"But..."

"No buts. I still want to see a therapist."

"I got you an appointment for tomorrow."

"With your pet therapist?" I said, the venom that seemed to come so easily to me right then.

"I told you..."

"I'm not buying this whole reconciliation crap, Mom."

"Raven, language."

"Crap isn't swearing or vulgarity, Mom. It's better than 'shit' any day of the week."

"It's swearing if you're using it to add emphasis, not describe something. I don't care if it's 'crap' 'bandersnatch' or 'shit' you use. When you say it as unneeded emphasis, it's swearing."

I opened my mouth to respond, but then closed it with a snap. She had a point.

"Fine, I'll go talk to your pet therapist, but I refuse to abide by anything she says."

"Are you sure, sweetie? The therapist could actually agree with you. I promise you that I wouldn't...no, you're right. I was threatening to do just what you're accusing me of, Bran. How about we make a deal. I let you have your clothing back, and you give me three months with the therapist no matter what he says."

At the time, I was too upset with everything that happened to notice her choice of pronoun. I just nodded at her in a sullen manner and she went and got my clothing for me.

I changed into a pair of loose, knee length shorts and went to take care of my laundry.

"You really should shave, Bran."

"Why? Not like I'm trying to impress a guy or something. Besides, it's too much hassle."

"So, you're telling me that you'll happily shave your face, but shaving your legs is too much work?"

"Basically," I said with a smile.

She made an exasperated sigh and I just grinned. The rest of the day passed in strained silence. I went to sleep in the confection, hoping that its saccharine nature didn't rub off on me as I slept.

The next morning I was out the door at the crack of dawn and driving over to Gregor's studio. He was outside the city limits on what looked like old farmland. There wasn't a barn, but the stone building of his forge already shimmered with heat.

"Am I late?" I said rushing in through the door.

"Not at all. I just got started myself. You know what to do," he said with a little smile.

More scut work greeted me.

Don't take this as complaining. I may never have worked so hard in my life, but I loved every minute of it. I got to see just how Gregor turned the iron bars and pig into works of art. No, they weren't artistic in the traditional sense, but they were...something special. He changed heat and sweat and hammer blows into buckles and nails and hinges. He made swords and shields.

There was something so very...masculine about the work we were doing. It called to me in my center and I felt a growling response. I wanted to feel the pounding of the hammer as it forced the metal into the shape that I required of it. Even pumping the bellows awakened me. My muscles ached by the time we were ready to take a break my muscles felt like jell-o.

"What time is it?" I inquired.

"Almost one."

"Cr...My mom set up a meeting with a therapist at one o'clock. I'm going to be late."

"This a gender thing?"

I smiled weakly, "yes, it's a gender thing."

"Go then. Sorry you won't be able to shower or anything."

"It's no big. It might even help the therapist see I'm a guy," I say with a rueful grin.

Gregor cackles as I rush out the door to my waiting rust bucket and speed off.

I get to the doctor's office almost twenty minutes later and park. I run in to find my Mom looking around a little worried.

"Whew," she said, holding her nose, "you stink."

"It's hot work apprenticing to a blacksmith," I say with a smile.

"Couldn't you have showered?"

"No time. I came right from work."

She shook her head and we went to the front counter. I took the clip board that was there and filled out the information.

Some of it was normal, I guess. It asked about my dreams and some similar items. When it got to how many times a day I masturbated I was getting a little uncomfortable.

Those were some of the last questions on the list, though, so I finished up quickly and handed the sheet back to the lady behind the desk and sat down to wait.

The cool of the air-conditioned office began to chill the sweat on my body and I began to feel uncomfortable for another reason. I was shivering slightly when they called my name, so I was happy to get up and move around a little.

I headed back behind the counter and entered the office where the therapist was sitting. His shelves were lined with toys for various ages for both genders. There were a number of gender neutral toys like some blocks and the biggest bucket of lego pieces I'd ever seen.

I looked up at the older gentleman behind the desk for the first time and started. The therapist was male. This was the first thing that failed to meet the expectations I had about my mom. Could she actually be trying to understand?

"Welcome, Raven."

"I prefer to be called Bran."

"Why's that?"

"Because it means Raven, but it's a boys name."

"you know that Raven is neither a boy's nor a girl's name, don't you?"

I had no response for that. I did know it, but why did he mention it.

"Sorry. You have every right to pick a name that better fits who you think you are."

"I don't think I'm a boy, doctor."

"I'm just a licensed therapist, Bran. That means I'm not actually a doctor. Call me Michael."

"Ok, Michael."

"So, you want to explain that? I thought that's why you were here."

"I feel like I'm a boy," I say to him.

"How is that different?"

"If I thought I were a boy, that would mean that it was some sort of choice for me. I thought through the pros and cons and decided, 'well, I think I'll be a boy today.'"

"and that's not what happened?"

"No, I've always felt this way. I tried to think my way out of it, to convince myself I was wrong, but I was miserable. It was only after I accepted I was a boy that I started to feel more in control of my life."

"So, being a boy means controlling your surroundings."

"No...being a boy means being a boy. There are wimpy boys. There are tough boys. There are boys that are somewhere in between."

"And you're a wimpy boy?"

"What would make you think that? No, I'm kinda tough. Not as tough as I'd be if I actually had some T in my system, but not bad. I can bench press a hundred fifty pounds and dead lift about the same."

"You weight lift?"

"Yep. When I'm not doing sword training."

"Interesting. You know, there are female weightlifters."

"You only prove my point with that," I said with a smile.

"Explain." he said with a smile of his own.

"Being male or female isn't about what you do. There are guys who love poetry and romance novels but who are men. There are females who want to be firefighters and are just as crass as the guys, but love being women. Male, female, gender neutral, it's not about what you do so much as who you are."

"I see you have thought about this a lot, even if you say you feel you're a boy."

"I tried to argue myself out of it, you'll remember. It's easier to be a butch female, most of the time, than to be some halfway freak like I'd be condemning myself to become."

"Halfway freak?"

"If I were a guy who was really a woman inside, then they just poke a hole and they're done. Nice and neat, and I know I'm over simplifying. As a guy trapped in this female body, however, there aren't any nice and neat answers, let alone simple. The penis is simply too complex an organ to be made out of tissue from another part of the body."

"Well, there are advances being made with 3D printing techniques..." he began.

"What are those," I said, knocked from my train of thought.

"Well, apparently they have made advances with using living tissue in a machine which will form it into a given shape. Right now they're working on making ears and other simple appendages, but I could easily see that changing in the future. They take the tissue they need and the printer would form the appendage a cell at a time into the form needed."

I sat ther dumfounded at the suggestion. "You mean I could be fully functioning," I say, the shock evident in my voice.

"Well, not likely anytime soon. It will be years before they start using it for any 'elective surgeries,'" he said with obvious disgust at the term, "but it is possible that within your lifetime you would be able to be a functioning male."

I sat there staring off into space. It is all so sci-fi to think about. The idea that they'd be able to make me and appendage that would work was beyond my wildest dreams. Sure, there'd been some fiction on the net about things like that, usually including something mechanical, but the idea that it could be all me...that I would have a penis.

"something wrong," Michael asked me.

"Damn these female hormones," I say with a growl, "no, I'm happy. That is the best news I've ever heard. The thought of having my very own...just overwhelmed me a bit."

He looked at me appraisingly, "You do realize when I mean a long time, I'm suggesting ten years or more."

"Sure, I get that, but...wow. that would be so awesome."

"you know, you'll still be sterile."

"I get that. I never wanted some guy in me anyway, and the thought of being able to get inside some girl...sorry, you didn't need to hear that."

"I've heard worse. Not saying any names or specifics, I have a patient who has rape fantasies."

"Has..rape...what?"

"Being the recipient of, not the other way around, although I hear there are people like that as well."

"That's...sick," I say with obvious revulsion.

"I try not to make any judgements. The point is that people have all sorts of things that they are interested in. Your interest in vanilla heterosexual sex is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Ok, talking with some old guy about my sexual fantasies just got a little gross."

He chuckled, "and you think talking about the fantasies of a transgendered teenage boy isn't a little strange for me?"

I smiled at him in sympathy.

"Let's change subjects, okay."

He sighed in relief and I laughed.

"So, if I may ask, were you working out before you came in to try and prove you were a guy or something?"

"What? Oh, the sweat stains. No, I was working. I recently got a job as a blacksmith's apprentice."

"A blacksmith's..."

"Apprentice. Yep."

"Those exist?"

"He makes authentic weaponry and armor for historical recreations."

"Like knights and armor and SCA and stuff?"

"Pretty much. I lost track of time and I wasn't able to take a shower."

"Tell me about your work."

I went into detail describing what I did. It was only when I noticed his eyes glazed over a bit that I realized he was probably bored to tears. I blushed and petered out.

"Sorry," I said.

"Don't worry about it. So, you're almost eighteen?"

"Yes," I say a bit warily.

"I notice you had your first period a couple of years ago?"

"Yes," I say and blush crimson. Flaunting a tampon is one thing, but talking about this sort of thing with a guy who isn't my gyno is a little weird.

"Then I see no reason not to refer you to a endocrinologist."

"A..."

"To get you started on testosterone."

"You mean..."

"Well, with your job, your dress, your attitudes, I see nothing that would prevent us from going forward."

I just sat there open mouthed.

"I'd suggest getting some more masculine brands. One tip on dress, most men's clothing looks fine if it's a little loose, which is most of the reason guys never really worry about trying stuff on in the store."

I just nodded, a goofy smile plastered to my face. A sobering thought brought be back down to earth. "Think you could explain all this to my mom?"