Transexuals can be made as well as born...
Copyright© 2003 Jerrie526
All Rights Reserved.
Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset Classic on Tuesday, 12-16-2003 - 08:30:55 pm and migrated to BigCloset TopShelf, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
Image Credit: Divider licensed for use in publishing from Photoshopgraphics.com ~Sephrena.
Story 4 – Lisa's Story
I was told to do this thing to help me try to adjust to my new body. But I hate the thought of even thinking about it. I will start by introducing myself. My name is Lisa Canby and I am twenty years old. I know I don’t look it but I really am. I certainly am not proud of the fact that I am no longer the actual age that I mentioned to you. You see, I used to be a woman and now I am a forty-two year old man. I have been wishing that I had never set foot into the yard that I did with my boyfriend that fateful January morning.
I cannot help how I feel about being in this lousy body. It is out of shape and I had to smoke because the jerk who had it before me had addicted it to cigarettes, which I despise. I have had to go through a quit smoking plan to get rid of the habit. It has been long and hard to do. I have been dealing with the weight gain and the hunger that gnaws at me until I have to indulge it. I get so depressed that all I can do is cry. I hate this so much.
The doctors have told me that I qualify to have a sex change because I really am a woman trapped in a man’s body. I don’t want to change it into A fake woman’s body; I just want to have my body back. I know I will not and it depresses me even further. My doctors tell me that for my peace of mind that it would be best if I go ahead with the transition and at least try to be comfortable.
I have seen my old body several times since the swap and all I can do is cry over my loss. It is so hard to see someone else wearing it. I know she is a good person inside but I cannot stand to see her. It is just a reminder of what I have lost and depresses me further than I have ever been in my life.
I have been trying to get my family to come and visit me but it seems like they have disowned me for no reason of mine. My sisters have refused to even talk to me. My parents no longer claim me as their daughter, but that is because I am no longer their daughter. But they certainly don’t see me as their son either since I am now older than my mother but a year younger than my father.
The doctors tried to get me to see a therapist but it was hard to talk to her at all. She could not understand what I have gone through and because of that, I could not get my points across to her. Because of that, I gave up without any major effort on my part.
I was at least getting visits from a few of the others involved in the accident and some of them I cannot stand to be around. I had a visit once from Michael, who is now going by the name of Michelle now that she has had the baby. I found that she is a self centered and shallow individual who seems to act like she is the only person that was hurt in this thing. She complained all the time about the pain she had to endure when she had the baby and how hard it was to be a woman and that sort of garbage. I finally had to tell her off and when I did, she took it as an affront to her sensitivity and left. If she cannot see how much of a bitch she is, I would hate to see what would happen if she was told that by someone.
I was finally able to see my boyfriend Keith after a couple of months of his ignoring me. He was several years older than he had been before the accident but he broke up with me because in his words, “I am not gay and no longer am attracted to you.” Just more fuel to the fire that is burning me up inside.
I started having a difficult time sleeping because of my inner turmoil. I had been prescribed some sleeping pills by my doctors to help me go to sleep easier. My nights were disturbed by flashes of eroticism that bothered me to no end. At the least expected moment, I would awaken with a raging erection that was more disturbing than the dreams. I cannot describe how much I hate that horrible piece of flesh that is now hanging between my legs. The very first time I felt it after I woke enough to be aware of myself, I became totally hysterical and had to be sedated. Any more, I have been tempted to whack it off with a knife or something sharp so that I will not have to deal with it. Urinating is a lesson in futility. I refuse to touch that *THING * at all. It makes me so sick to think about it being ATTACHED to me!
At the advise of some of my friends from when I had my old body, I even went as far as wearing women’s clothes again. When I was able to get a look in the mirror for the first time after my friends had completed their work on me, I went ballistic. I had never looked so ridiculous in my life. I ripped every shred of clothes off my body and collapsed into a heap of tears.
By this time, I had been struggling for nearly a year. How time flies when you are not having fun. My nightmares have been growing worse each night and it is so hard on me not being able to sleep. I have been taking several of the sleeping pills each night to be able to sleep the night through and it does me no good. I awake at the same time screaming hoarsely from the images that disturbed my sleep.
I had to go give my testimony for the lawsuit finally and at least the jury was able to hear about my situation completely and were sympathetic to me. Each one of us were granted a large sum of money for our suffering. At the end of the trial, we were all handed an individual envelope telling us not to disclose to anyone what we had received. I had a check for $40,000,000.00, not that it was going to do me any good. I was in no mood to spend it at all.
The letter that was enclosed stated that the company that caused this felt that I was the one that was suffering the most and therefore, I received the largest sum of money. It did not say how much the others received but that they were all compensated for their amount of suffering. I wondered how much ‘Jackie’ was actually suffering. She looked like she was having the time of her life when I saw her during the trial. As hard as I tried to get the image out of my mind, I could not. I had seen her talking to some other women in the lounge set up in the courthouse and she was laughing and having a good time. She totally ignored me as if I were not there at all.
It was during that time that I decided that I was no longer going to deal with this body. My will to live has drained from me gradually day by day. Now, I no longer have anything to live for. I had several months ago taken to drinking in trying to drown out my sorrows but it never really helped me at all. All I did was wake up hung over and feeling sick. I went to the pharmacy to renew my prescription for the sleeping pills and stopped by the liquor store to pick up the strongest bottle of whiskey I could find.
That night, I downed every one of the pills that I had picked up that day. I even emptied the bottle of whiskey. I was totally drunk before the pills started kicking in and I passed out quickly.
Much to my surprise and disgust, I woke up in the hospital again with tubes running out of every orifice in my body. My hands were strapped to the bed and I could not move them. As I became more aware of my surroundings, I started thrashing my body. The nurse that was stationed there got on the phone and made a call. I was soon surrounded by doctors that were basically clucking their tongues at me for my actions.
I was told that if it had not been for the original occupant of my body finding me, I would have been dead. I could not talk with the tube in my throat and they relented and removed it so that I could talk. I was so angry about failing to kill myself that I berated every one of those assholes for letting me live so that I could continue to suffer.
Over the next several weeks, I had to put up with visits from shrinks that were trying to get me to realize that I did not want to kill myself and that I had a will to survive that would kick in soon. My will to survive had gave up the ghost a long time ago. I tried to tell them that many times but is was all to naught with my efforts.
A couple of days after I awoke, I was surrounded by the others in the group but the minute I laid eyes on Jackie, I went berserk. The bitch had no right to come waltzing into my room and life like that and all I could do was scream obscenities at her until she left the room. I hoped that she was crying like the little girl she was! I have never hated anyone in my life like I hated her. Little Miss Bitch! The doctors came back in and shooed every one out of the room and gave me an injection to calm me down.
The shrinks came back in the room and started asking me all sorts of questions, of which, I answered none of them. I stayed silent and refused to talk to any of them.
I was in the hospital for three more months this time and the majority of it was spent strapped to the bed. I was given some time up each day to move around so that the muscles did not atrophy on me but I did not care about that.
In the time before they released me, they started giving me several antidepressants that seemed to take me out of my most serious blue funk but it made me a zombie that could not think about anything independent. When I was released, I was taken to the home that was Steve and Karen Mitchell’s house and put up in their guest bedroom. They were the ones that I had the least reaction over so they were elected to watch over me. They made sure that I took my pills on time and made sure that I took them.
I hated being treating like an invalid all the time. Stephanie made sure that I ate and did not lose any more weight than I had already lost. Not that it mattered to me anyway. My body was going on automatic pilot as it was. It ate whether or not I wanted to.
One day, Stephanie was a little bit careless and did not watch me closely when it came time to give me the prescribed medication. I carefully hid the pills in my mouth and spit them out when she turned her back. I quickly disposed of them when I had the chance. I kept the stupefied act up so that they would not catch on until too late. Once my thoughts were clear, I started making up my plans for getting out of this situation. I caught my journal up to date which brings me to this point.
I have used this message as a way to clear my mind and make it up as to what I am going to do with my life. It has set me straight on what I need to do and I have set my mind to it. I have tried so hard to live as a man and I have found it impossible. I was not born to be a man and I am going to make sure that the future does not hold that prospect for me. I had received the majority of Steve Mitchell’s possessions after I originally left the hospital and while going through them one day, I found a hidden compartment in one of his cases that contained a pistol that was loaded. My last attempt to kill myself did not go over well because I took a woman’s way out without pain by taking sleeping pills. Up until now, I have been afraid to use it and now the fear is gone. This time I have to do it the man’s way and end it with violence. Let this be my last words while I say that I am sorry that I have to do this. Good bye to my family and I am sorry for the pain I am going to cause them. I just cannot take this any more and I must end it now.
Excerpt from the Big River Times, Big River, CO:
It was announced today that one of the twelve famous body swappers was found dead from an apparent self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Lisa Canby had left a journal that detailed her/his feelings since the swap that left her in the body of a man more than twice her age. Lisa had been dealing with severe depression for the last year and a half and had previously tried to kill herself/himself but was found before he/she actually died. Her second attempt was successful. Funeral services for Ms/Mr. Canby will be held on Wednesday after a coroner’s inquest is held. She was 20 going on 43 at the time of her death.
Note: TG series sci-fi body swap
Posted by: Jerrie526 on Tuesday, December 16, 2003 - 08:30 PM
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
Comments
Original Comment
by Guest Reader on Apr 07, 2004 - 10:49 AM
Petulant child
Lisa was acting like a petulant child, where she could not have what she really wanted and was not going to look for any other way to acquire it.
She states that the new Lisa was a self centered bitch, but that is exactly who she was when in her original body. She cared about no one but her self, despite having a boyfriend.
She was told she could have GRS, which would have allowed her body to match her mind, in a way. But she only wanted her own body back. A petulant child.
It's very sad when a person only sees one option to end the pain or hurt they are experiencing. They may have tried other things to ease what they're feeling, but when those don't work they give up trying to find a solution. This was Lisa. She wanted what she couldn't have and was unwilling to do anything different.
Others have feelings too.