Waking up

Author's note: Just when I thought maybe my muse had found a better host, she came back, and she brought a story with her. I look forward to hearing what people think.

I feel like I should write this down, even if I don’t really expect that anybody would believe me.

The whole thing started when I was a freshmen in college. I was ... drifting through life, I guess you could say. I didn’t have any male friends, and my attempts to get dates from girls were laughable. For some reason, women liked me, liked talking to me, even sharing their stories with me, but they just didn’t seem to see me as the kind of guy they’d date.

Despite this, I wouldn’t have said I was depressed. Mind you, I wouldn’t have said I was particularly happy, either. Most of the time, I felt numb, just going through the motions of life waiting for some spark of inspiration to tell me what I was missing.

So when I saw that there was going to be an open house party at a frat, I went. It was just ... something to do.

But my lack of social skills betrayed me, and soon I was hugging a wall just watching everyone else have fun.

Then a girl actually approached me.

She was dressed kinda like a mashup between a goth and a gypsy, with a brightly colored skirt offset by dark makeup and black painted nails, but she smiled warmly enough at me that I relaxed a little and said hello.

In response, she took one of my hands, and spoke into my ear, saying “Let’s go for a walk”. Then she began to pull me in the direction of the door.

I stumbled along behind her, mesmerized.

Once outside, she steered me toward a park bench, and sat me down. Then she said, “You didn’t look like you were having a lot of fun in there.”

I shrugged.

Then she said, “Would you like to be happy?”

That seemed like such a strange question for a stranger to ask that I sat there in shock for a moment. Finally, I managed, “Who wouldn’t want to be happy?”

“You’d be surprised. Many people get comfortable where they are, even if its bad. Change is scary, and they’ll stay in misery instead of taking a chance on a change.”

“You think I need a change?”

“Don’t you?”

I thought about that. I may never have felt very bad, but I certainly couldn’t say I’d ever felt very good, either.

I took a breath, and then said, “I ... think I do need a change. But I don’t know what change I need.”

“I do.” She said with such certainty I accepted it.

“How do you know?”

“You could say that’s my gift. So would you trust me to show you what you need?”

I found myself wanting to trust her. but I said. “But I don’t know you.”

“No, you don’t know me, not yet. But you will.”

She looked so caring, and somehow I knew she hurt for my hurt, so I said, “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll trust you.”

She smiled, and said, “Go home and sleep. In the morning, you’ll have your change.”

“Thank you.” I said, and stood up.

“Don’t thank me yet. See the change, and then decide if it’s what you really needed.”

I nodded, and walked away from her, heading for my small apartment.

I had a lot of trouble getting to sleep that night. The conversation with her had become dreamlike, making me wonder if I hadn’t somehow fallen asleep at the party. Plus, I had no idea what the change she thought I needed actually was, so I struggled for some time before I finally managed to sleep.

The next morning, when I woke up, I felt something on my stomach. A moment later I realized it was an arm, a masculine arm.

Then I heard the owner of the arm murmur in his sleep, and I woke up entirely. For a moment, I panicked, wondering what was going on and what I should do.

Then the man murmured again, and his hand fell from my stomach. Thus free, I felt like if I was going to get away from this man and figure out what he was doing in my bed, the time was now ...

I slipped out of the bed as quietly as I could, but couldnt avoid a small gasp as I watched my feet hit the floor.

My toes were painted a rich purple.

And that was far from the only change. I had a pair of weights on my chest that I realized were ... breasts.

I fought panic, got up, and ran to the bathroom. I figured if nothing else I could lock the door...

I was brought up short by my reflection. The features on the girl in the mirror looked familiar, like she was my feminine twin. Not supermodel beautiful, but certainly pretty decent all things considered.

The biggest difference (well, besides the fact she was a girl) was she apparently didn’t need glasses, while I had dealt with poor vision most of my life. Her hair was a little longer,but it was the same blonde color as mine had been.

I was still processing things when I heard “You okay, hon?”

I looked out of the bathroom, and sitting up in the bed was the man. He was naked, or at least what I could see of him was bare. He looked like he was between twenty and twenty-five, His hair was black, his eyes were a sharp blue, and he was pretty well built. I found my new breasts stiffening just looking at him ...

But what really calmed me out of my panic was the look of concern and love in his eyes. Whoever I was now, he loved her and wanted to protect her.

Trying to keep any anxiety out of my voice, I said, “Just a nightmare.”

My voice took me by surprise. It was not unlike my male one, a little softer and slightly higher.

He got out of the bed, and to my relief he was wearing briefs, although they showed pretty clearly he was well equipped, as they say ...

Then he came over to me. and took my hand gently.

He said, “What was the nightmare, hon? Are you worried about your surgery?”

As he said this, memories flooded into my brain. This girl I had become, she was no stranger. She was me. A me who finally realized what she had been missing her whole life - the life of a woman. She had found courage to begin a transition, found this man beside me, and very soon would be removing the last bit of her male life.

Becoming ... whole, at last.

I began to weep, and the man held me tight.

And suddenly, I realized, that I was ... happy.

Being a girl, having this man, this life, I ...

The girl had been right.

This ... was what I had needed.

And then, just like that, everything changed again. I was back in my apartment, and a quick inspection told me I was once again myself.

And I wept for what I had apparently lost.

Then the girl who had been at the party was in my bedroom, and she said, “Dry your eyes. Did you find your happiness?”

“I did. But why did you take it away again?”

“I didn’t take it away. What you saw was a possible future. Its up to you to make that future become what is.”

“You mean ... transition?”

“Yes.”

“And if I do, I’ll have the happiness I saw there?”

“If you make the right choices, yes.”

“But how will I know the right choices? I ... I’m scared of making a mistake.”

“Follow your heart.” She said, and then vanished.

I sighed, and looked at the clock. It was four o’clock in the morning, so I went back to bed.

All of this took place yesterday as I sit here writing this, hoping to make sense of what I’ve experienced. I’ve gone online, and found some links to resources for transitioning, but that’s just the first step.

I’ve got the rest of the road yet to go, and only what may be a dream to guide me .

Here is hoping for the best ...

End.