A moment in time with a decision to make; was it the right one? For the longest time I thought I had probably made the wrong one. Was it the best or worse decision of my life?

"I don't know how parents survive!" she exclaimed. "You've been with me for what — five or six weeks now, and I feel like I'm either going to have gray hair or a heart attack or both! And the thing is, you're just skipping along, tra la la, and — oh! I'm a girl! oh! I have a boyfriend! oh! I climbed the school building! oh! I have breasts!"

"We love you and if this is part of you, then we have to accept it. We don’t necessarily approve of it, but you are our friend/brother/son and we will always care." This, to me, was a revelation and, to not have to hide anymore was the most wonderful feeling in the world!

Denise and I both stayed out of school on Friday. I had my tea with me, and made sure I didn't miss my daily cup. By now I had breasts like little half-apples, and no longer needed padding to fill my bra. They weren't big breasts, but they were mine, and I hoped the tea would keep them growing.

I had a major score. In the laundry were some of my favorite clothes of my sister's. All I needed was a little time alone and I would be satisfied, but someone out there doesn't like me. In fact, someone out there hates me.

"Yeah, whatever," he said. "Hey, I can only give you a quick kiss with my parents watching."

I smiled. "I understand." I got up on tiptoe, and he gave me a peck on the lips. Resting my head on his chest, I hugged him tight. Then I noticed that my left foot had "popped," like the girl in The Princess Diaries, so I put it back on the ground and let go. "Thanks. I had a lot of fun."

"Maybe your little breasts are growing."

I didn't realize she was joking, so I said, "Maybe. Maybe wearing a bra is making it happen."

"Oh, right!" she laughed. "Are you serious? If that was all it took... Oh, wait! Your breasts are growing? You're not taking hormones, are you?"

Moving his face to within centimetres of mine he said, “I know all about your kind; I’ve read articles and seen a few books on TVs. This is what they want; to be submissive, be tied up and have some guy take advantage of them.” he growled. Startled and scared by his actions I was silent as his hands wandered up my thighs and under my skirt and across my bottom “Well isn’t it? Look at you in your short skirt, tight top and high heeled boots, and made up like a tart; you’re begging for some guy to restrain you and have you aren’t you?” he added, fondling my breast forms.

I was scared and not sure what he was going to do...

"Oh," I said. "Remember when I told you that I'm not supposed to date? Well, I'm really not supposed to have you over when no one's home."

"You'll be home," he said playfully.

An upperclass girl came in to use one of the toilet stalls. I didn't look at her, but I heard her sit down. At the same time, there were noises from the boy's bathroom, which is on the opposite side of the wall. In a vague way I remembered Carla once telling me to never use this bathroom, but she didn't have a chance to explain why. I suddenly found out.

"Wow," Eden said. "You made me look beautiful."
It was true. Eden was standing under the window in the third frame. Cory had obviously spent most of his time drawing her. The clothes, the hair, her face, were all exactly as they were that night.
"Earth to Eden," I said. "That's how you look. You *are* beautiful."

"Do you want to start again?" I asked.

"No, no. Let's just... Okay. Here's what we'll do. I'm going to tell you what I see and hope it makes sense to you, because it doesn't make any sense to me. Okay?"

I thanked her and went into the inner office. Mr. Bryant and my aunt were there, waiting. "Well, well, well," he said. "My favorite student."

That didn't sound good. I didn't want to be the principal's favorite student, did I? "Am I in trouble?" I asked.

CATERING FOR ALL SORTS - A DRABBLE.

He’d drawn the short straw, undercover waitress, his partner, much bigger, obviously male was the kitchen ‘washer-upper’.

He complained of sore red hands, ‘she’ complained of sore red toes and cursed her heels.

“Any leads yet?” ‘she’ whispered.

“Gotta be here somewhere,” he replied.

This is a fictional tale about a guy, who just wanted to recreate for him self a part of a fantasy story he read. But as we all know things don’t always go as we plan, and this was no exception. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it

Chapter #2.

She started laughing, but I cut her off.

"I know that everything I do is oh-so-funny, but I'm really scared. Should I tell my parents? Or hope that they won't find out? And are you going to narc me out just so you don't get in trouble?"

"So...," Mom began, "What are you going to do about boys?"

"Uh, boys?"

"Yes, what are you going to do when boys start showing interest in you?"

"What do you think I should do?" I asked (and I think I managed to sound very innocent).

"What's the problem?" she repeated, almost in a shriek. "I'll tell you what's the problem! What if you fell and split your silly head open?"

"But I didn't," I protested weakly.

Dad shook his head. "Your Mr. Bryant told me that in case we were in witness protection, our cover had been blown. I told him we aren't, but of course he doesn't know what to believe. How in the world do you get into these messes?"

"I don't know," I protested. "I don't do anything!"

This is the second entry in what I hope to be a continuing series of single-panel cartoons.

My Transgender Childhood #2
Copyright 2008 by Heather Rose Brown
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I awoke with a start. It took me a few moments to get my bearings — I was back in my room. My brain felt a bit fuzzy; probably as a result of whatever the doctor injected me with. I rubbed the spot where the hypo had made contact. There was no soreness, nor any bumps on the skin.