Castle on a Cloud
copyright 2013 Faeriemage
Sometimes dreams come true.

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Let me set the record straight. I am not a cold and callous person, not matter what I might have sounded like in the previous chapter. When I was calmly talking about the dissolution of my marriage, in no way was I trying to sound like it was something I wanted.

This isn’t my first marriage.

I was married before to someone who cheated on me. I’m not going to delve into blame, because even when someone cheats on you, there is at least a portion of blame to be assigned to you. Ok, there is usually a portion of the blame that you should accept.

I was an angry person. Not one who took it out on others…

Ok, so it’s truth time. I was a screamer. I yelled at inanimate objects. People, not so much, but it did occasionally happen. There was no physical component to any of this, but even so it was unacceptable.

So, she sought comfort in the arms of another. Even when I found out, I forgave her. I’m that sort of person. She declared we were getting a divorce.

Here is the problem: I know that sometimes, when people are unwilling or unable to work through their differences, marriages break up. I would personally be willing to work through my differences, because that is who I am, but there was a major and insurmountable difference that would have caused a serious problem with my marriage: My wife and I were heterosexual.

While I was still presenting as male, that wasn’t an issue. Male and female compatibility. When I became a woman that created a problem. Female and female incompatibility.

I’m not talking here about love. There is a big difference between sex and love. You can love a person all you want, but that doesn’t mean you have a sexual attraction for them. In a perfect world, this wouldn’t be an issue. In a perfect world you would find the person that you were compatible with and everything would just work.

In a perfect world there would be no problems like ‘transgender.’ There would be no variance or divergence from the norm because everything would work right the first time.

We don’t live, and never have done so, in a perfect world. We live in a world where there are outliers and anomalies. There are a multitude of psychological conditions that cause people no end of grief. In this world of imperfection you can’t expect people to be perfect, and neither should you condemn them when they are imperfect.

I love Sam. Unfortunately I truly couldn’t bring myself to make love to her. Maybe if I were drunk enough and aroused enough…

But I would feel guilty and dirty about it afterwards.

There wasn’t a universe in which I was going to keep her in a marriage where she wouldn’t be happy.

She arrived to pick me up. In the back of our car, my daughter Rose was sitting, bouncing as she usually does when she goes to pick up ‘daddy.’

“Daddy?”

“Yes sweety?”

“Why do you look like mommy?”

I look over at Sam with a sort of shrug of my shoulders. What do you tell a five year old?

“Because daddy is a girl now.” I said, as calmly as I could.

“Really?” she said, her eyes getting wide. “You mean we’re all girls now? I love girls!”

Well, there was my daughter for you. When I played video games she always preferred that I play female characters. She got no complaints out of me.

“Bill, should you really say something like that to her?”

“It’s the truth, Sam. What do you want me to tell her?”

She sat there quietly for a minute or two as we drove home, thinking through her response. I leaned my chair back and let Rose play with my hair. It was a lot longer than it used to be and I loved the sensations. Rose loved to play with hair, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she became a hairdresser when she grew up.

“Bill…”

“Could you call me Cosette?”

“Really? Cosette?”

“Well, I like it, unless you have a better name for me…”

“Why not Andrea?”

I looked over at her and she was grinning at me. “You’re taking this well,” I said a little confused.

“I don’t like this, but this wasn’t some choice you made...was it?”

“No, you know my feelings on this issue. I wanted to remain as I was for you and because my family could never accept me if I were to transition.”

Her face lost its happiness. “What are you going to do about your family?”

“Have a horrific fight I assume,” I said. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to myself. I loved my family. They were the world to me. I’m not just talking about my own family. I loved my in-laws as well.

I had no idea where my in-laws stood on the issue, but I was pretty sure that I knew where my personal family stood. That was a problem for another day. Today I had a problem that was set to destroy me, or at least the me I used to be.

The first issue that I had to find a gender specialist in the midst of all of the people that were on our health insurance plan. From all the other stories that I have read, it seems that gender specialists are a dime a dozen and the main character or someone in their life has an in with them. They get in miraculously quickly, as all of these specialists seem to have completely full schedules, and from there all of their problems are solved.

Like all professionals there are differences between therapists, from how busy they are to how full they keep their schedule.

Since I had no other choice, and no way to narrow the list of almost two hundred people, I began at the top and worked my way down. Every time the conversation went something like this:

“Thank you for calling Dr/Mr/Ms Anyone’s office. How can I help you?”

“Does the doctor/therapist deal with gender issues?”

*click*

Sometimes I got laughter. Sometimes a response of, “oh, you poor dear.” Once I even heard the person on the other end of the line say, “the doctor doesn’t handle deviants like you.” Not once in the first fifty three names did I get anything even approaching understanding. The Fifty fourth name was slightly different.

“We’re not taking new patients,” the woman says and then hangs up the phone.

I called back immediately. “Please, don’t hang up. I understand you’re not taking any new patients, but if you could tell me, do you know of any other therapists in the area who handle gender issues? I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry I was so rude. People can be really insistent sometimes and you’re not the first person to call today thinking they have gender dysphoria. Why would someone who is a beautiful woman like you, or so I assume from your voice, want to become a man? I don’t understand it.”

“I was born William James Carson,” I say quietly.

There’s dead air on the line for almost a full minute. I’m about ready to say something or hang up when I hear a sigh on the other end of the line. “Well, I deserved that. Is it because of how you sound you want to change, or something more?”

“I was born a girl, but the world disagrees with me. There is more, but I’m not sure you’d believe me because I don’t know that I even believe it half the time. The simple truth is that I’d have stayed who I was quite happily if not for a series of events that leaves me no choice. I have to be under the care of a psychiatrist, psychologist or therapist for my gender issues or I lose my job.”

“Why not just go to work as a man?”

“It’s not possible. I wish it were, but it isn’t.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight at five.”

“But, I thought…”

“I don’t claim to be a specialist in gender issues, and apparently I need to work on that. I didn’t consider myself to be a bigoted person, but apparently there is some prejudice in me. I need until five in order to refresh my knowledge on the subject.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but wouldn’t it be better for me to go to someone who specializes in this?”

“Probably, but none of them will see you today.” There was a note of pleading in her voice that I hated to hear. I relented and told Ms. Kelly, last name not first, that I would be there at five.

I tried to lose myself in my games, but nothing would keep my attention for long. The first problem was that wearing silk boxers is ridiculously uncomfortable. The seams bunch up and dig into places that I would have loved to explore but was afraid to touch at the same time. Sensitive areas. Eventually I simply removed the boxers and wore my shorts with nothing on underneath. Not as uncomfortable, but not fully comfortable either.

The second problem was that I was truly worried that I would be walking into another situation like the one I’d had earlier today. I didn’t need to subject myself to any further bullying and I found myself repeatedly picking up the phone and dialing the number only to hang up before it began to ring.

Then, as we got closer to five, I began to fret over my appearance. My wife was allergic to all makeup and my daughter wasn’t really old enough to start playing with it, so we had none in the house, not even lip gloss.

Even if we had, I had no idea how to apply it.

My wife was only 5’3”, so any of her dresses was completely out of the question, not even considering that I had a larger bust than she did. We went through her skirts until we found one that would work. Where it reached her ankles it went just below my knees. It fit well through the hips, though, so I counted my blessings on that one. The main problem, however, was that it was a deep brown. Don’t get me wrong. I love earth tones and they seem to work well with my coloration, which hasn’t changed significantly. It’s just that her tops don’t fit me, and my tops are...masculine.

I pick a green polo shirt and put it on. I’m swimming in it, as it was one of my bigger shirts. I tuck it into the skirt and grab one of my older belts. It is black with silver eyelets in double rows. It literally goes around me twice so I run it just resting on my hips. The shoulders still aren’t quite right, but it looks better than it did. The only problem is that the sandals just don’t go with it. It’s a sort of off-casual look, but the sandals aren’t feminine enough to fit with the rest of the outfit.

“I need shoes,” I say at the same time as Sam says, “those sandals just don’t work.”

We laugh and head out to the car. I might not have enough money to buy a full new wardrobe at the moment, but at least I can buy a cheap pair of shoes. We head to a department store and get shoes and some underwear, including a couple of bras. It might be naughty and sexy to wear a skirt without underwear, but I was glad to have something on down there to separate me from the rest of the world.

I find out that I’m a 40C, which is something you should always know. The fact that my fifty two inch belt wrapped twice around me means my waist is about twenty-five or twenty-six inches.

I stood there looking at myself in the mirror for a long time, taking in my long legs and tight waist. My bust and behind seemed to be balanced, so overall I seemed to be pretty. To get beyond that I would need to wear makeup, but that was a battle for another day.

I didn’t get the full effect of my breasts when I’d been walking around earlier wearing the sport’s bra. It was almost exactly like the fat rolls that I’d had only last week. They moved, sure, but nothing noticeable. Wearing the bra I’d picked out, I could feel them move against the fabric of the shirt.

It wasn’t anything sensuous, but it was a feeling that I’d longed for and something that I’d thought would only be there in my dreams. They were mine. They made me a part of womanhood more than anything else I was wearing, or any other part of my body save that which was covered by my skirt.

I was caught up in my happy thoughts as we drove to the office and parked just a few minutes before five.

“William?” Ms. Kelly said in a little shock upon seeing me.

“Yes, although that name doesn’t seem to fit me, does it.”

“No, it doesn’t. What would you like for me to call you?”

“Cosette,” I said with a grin.

“Well, little one, why don’t you join me in my office.”

We entered the office and I looked around. There were a couple of couches and some chairs. All of them looked comfortable and I quickly sank into one. I lounged in the chair just relaxing into the soft feel of it before I noticed Ms. Kelly staring at my knees.

I quickly sat up and crossed my legs at the knee, something my body would never have been able to do before. I’ve always been flexible, but certain things always got in the way.

“I don’t mean to pry, but you look…”

“Like a woman? That’s because I am, physically.”

“I thought…” she said, looking even more confused.

“Let me begin at the beginning. Here’s my driver’s license. It’s expired, but you’ll see my name there and my picture.”

She looks from one to the other, comparing the little things that I mentioned before. “Either that is one excellent makeup job, or you are the man in this photo.”

“You’re welcome to touch my face if you don’t believe me.”

“No, I take you at your word, for now. I assume that this is the reason that you can’t go back to work without being under my care? You are transitioning?”

“Well, it seems you did your research.”

“I never claimed to be completely ignorant of people in your situation.”

“Ma’am, you’ve never met anyone in my situation.”

“While people always feel like their issues are unique…”

“I could drop my skirt and panties right here for you. I could let you examine me, but all you’d believe is I went and got surgery somewhere. I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Yesterday I was at a doctor’s office where he examined me fully. I was suffering from an illness of some sort. Today I feel more alive than I have in years and I’m a woman.”

“I understood that you always felt you were…”

“I’m not trying to tell you I don’t need help. I probably need it more than if I were to have come in here last week. When I say I’m a woman, though, I mean that for the first time in my life my mind and body are in agreement. Sure, I still have some ticks and behaviours that have been learned over the thirty-eight years I’ve been alive, but I feel...whole.”

She sat there quietly for a moment.

“This isn’t a joke, is it. You’re not trying to trick me?”

“My plan was to never transition, Ms. Kelly. This was something I planned on living with my entire life. I found a partner who could live with my quirks. I never dressed or tried to learn mannerisms that would fit a female persona. I had some, of course, but those were part of me, and things I was unwilling to give up.”

“How can I help you?”

“I’m losing my life and gaining it at the same time. What do I do? My wife is heterosexual, and I’m sure that she’s going to be unhappy to have any further physical relationship with me.”

“Are you a lesbian then?”

“No. I’m attracted to men and women. Whenever I dream, though, I am always the opposite gender of any of my partners. I’ve had some lesbian fantasies, what girl hasn’t, but the mechanics of it are sort of icky to me.”

“Pity,” she said quietly.

I had to laugh.

“Something funny?”

“It seems that you’re the second person to relate that way to me today. The first said it would be a pity if I were a lesbian. You said it was a pity I wasn’t.”

She blushed and I just smiled.

“I’m sorry, but that was inappropriate of me to say. Not even counting the fact that you are a patient, you are married. You want to remain married?”

“Sure, but how can I? I enjoyed my relations with my wife. There’s no way that can continue.”

“Have you asked her this?”

“No, but I know my own wife.”

She walked to the door and opened it, calling Sam to join us.

“Sam, among other things I am a couples counselor, and while I’m sure your husband needs other assistance I thought we’d start today with a couple’s session.”

“She’s not my husband anymore,” Sam said with a little ire and not a little hurt.

“Would you be more comfortable calling her your wife?”

Sam paled and just shook her head.

“Cosette tells me that she is afraid that you won’t be able to have sex with her anymore.” Both Sam and I flinched at her blunt statement.

“I didn’t say it that way, Sam. It’s just I’m not a lesbian.”

“Our daughter would suggest otherwise,” she said with a little venom.

“When I was a man, I could see being with you. That worked for me. I’m not a man anymore.”

“Why can’t we find some way to fix this?”

“I don’t even know what caused it. You never got sick. No one else did. Just me. And now that I’m better, I’m not who I was anymore.”

“You’re happy about this, though, aren’t you? Isn’t this what you always wanted?”

“Yes, but not at your expense. I never wanted this if it meant losing you.”

She came over to me and pushed me back in the seat and kissed me. I melted and passively accepted it. I could tell I was beginning to feel the slightest hint of arousal, but it was only a hint. I was no longer attracted to my wife.

“It wouldn’t work,” she said sadly, “I just don’t feel anything like I used to when we kissed.”

“I know,” I said with a tear rolling down my cheek. “Maybe this isn’t permanent,” I said with a sob threatening to tear itself free from my throat.

“And then what? How could I live with myself knowing that you had this moment of pure happiness given to you where you never asked for it and gave it up for me. I can’t do that to you, Cosette,” Sam was beginning to cry herself and I lost it. She sank into my arms and we cried on each other’s shoulder. I could hear Ms. Kelly sniffling a bit, but I didn’t really care. After a minute or two Sam and I relaxed. She didn’t try to get up and continued to sit on my lap. It was familiar and foreign at the same time.

For the first time in my life a woman was sitting on my lap and it meant nothing to me other than normal physical contact. There was no stirring of interest at all.

“Do you want a divorce?” I said.

“I want my husband back,” she replied to me.

“You know I didn’t ask for this,” I said. Where I might have responded with anger before, now there was only regret and pain.

“I know.”

“I would still be happy if you continued to live in the same house with me. There’s nothing that says we can’t do that is there?”

“What if I get married again? I’m not that old. Or what if you get married?” She said with a small shudder.

“Well, then the guy better accept that I want a place for your and our daughter in my life.”

“You’d tell him you used to be a man?”

“Even though there would be no way he could find out about me through anything on my body that would suggest otherwise, yes I would. I want a relationship with my family and they shouldn’t have to watch what they say around my…husband.” The world sounded so foreign coming from my mouth.

Sam paled a bit as well. I hugged her and she didn’t pull away.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

“I won’t be gone,” I replied, my tears flowing freely again.

“But you are gone. You don’t even have the same smell anymore. Even when you wore my antiperspirant there was this smell that was distinctly you.”

“You wore her antiperspirant?”

“I preferred the smell. I like to smell like baby powder,” I said and Ms. Kelly laughed.

“Well, there’s nothing to say that you can’t get your own now with the same scent,” Sam said, for the first time truly smiling since we came in here. She climbed off my lap and went to sit in her own chair.

“Well, this is definitely strange,” Ms. Kelly said. “Every once in a while, the man that you were peeks through, like when you showed me your panties,” she said, coloring.

“You definitely seemed mesmerized,” I said with a smirk.

“See, like that. That was a little more masculine than I’d expect. Originally you blushed and covered up, which I assume was your gut reaction?”

I nod at her.

“Ok, I’ll sign what you need me to, but if I’m going to claim you are in my care, then I need you to make regular appointments to see me.”

“Like I said, I want the help.”

“I’ll keep the exact nature of what I’m helping you with to myself. For now, I’ll just let your employer know that I am helping you through your ‘gender issues.’ Will that work?”

“That will be perfect.”

We go back out to the waiting area where I fill out the forms that she requests of me. She then provides me with a carry letter and a second document that I can’t help but gogle at.

“Are you sure?”

“You are a woman, we need to get the ball rolling,” she said with a smile.

The second letter was a declaration that the individual known as William James Carson was in transition and would be changing her name to Cosette Andrea Carson. My wife won out on that one. She couldn’t see calling a grown woman Cosette and planned on calling me Andi. I could live with that.

“Take that to the social security office tomorrow. That should get at least half of your ID issue out of the way.”

“Half of it?”

“When you get your new social through the mail, and we get your birth certificate changed, you can go and get a new driver’s license.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Women get married all the time. The social security administration has policies in place to change your name. That letter should be enough, but if it isn’t then we just need a court order.”

“How will they know…”

“We’re going now to get it notarized for you. Like I said, it’s not a court order, but it should be enough to attest to the change.”

We went to a local UPS store and paid a small fee to get our paper’s notarized. They checked our ID and once more someone scrutinized my face and the one in the image. In the end the boy behind the counter accepted it. It didn’t hurt, I think, that I was shamelessly flirting with him while he examined my photo.

As we were walking out he called out to me, “Miss Carson?”

“Yes?”

“Could I get your phone number?”

“Why?”

“So I could ask you out on a date,” he said as if it were obvious, which likely it should have been.

I laughed, but not at him. It was just a happy sort of a laugh. “I’m thirty-eight, Jason.” I said looking at his name tag.

“Oh,” he said and his smile went away. After a moment or two he shook himself and looked me up and down. There was more of an appraising look than anything overtly sexual and I have to admit that I preened a bit under his gaze.

“So, can I get your phone number?”

“Her number is 555-9102,” Sam said from beside me.

“Sam,” I exclaimed.

“He seems like a nice boy, even if he is ten years younger than you are.”

When we left the store and the door was closed I said, “He probably just wants to have sex with me.”

“Good.”

“What?” I said a little shocked.

“At least one of the two of us will be getting some,” Sam said with a sad little smile.

I just stopped stock still and looked at her.

“Yes, I’m giving you permission to date.”

“But…”

“Andi, you know that I loved Bill more than anything, but you’re not Bill anymore. You are Cosette Andrea Carson. While Bill and I were married, you and I aren’t.”

“Sam,” I said, a cold spot forming in my stomach.

“I’m not kicking you out or anything, and I am happy we’ll still be a part of each other’s lives, but one of the two of us needs a new bed to sleep in.”

I just look at her for a moment or two and then a smile splits my face, “and he was cute, wasn’t he.”

Sam looks at me and then grins herself, “You bet your sweet little ass he was. If he hadn’t asked for your number I might have had to give him mine just on principle.”

“Sam, you just gave him your number.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?” she said, grinning even larger. The three of us laughed as we walked back to our cars.