Most people who know me...and I mean really know me, can't understand how or why I could have given up my life as a boy to become a girl. Of course the reason they don't understand is because they don't know me as well as they think they do. Its hard to tell by looking at me now, but up until last year, I was a regular looking boy who was leading a rather average life. I had friends and played sports. Girls liked me and I liked them. I didn't look, act, or talk like a sissy. As a matter of fact, and I'm ashamed to admit this now, but I was downright hateful towards people like me. Publicly hating them was my way of putting up a front. No one ever suspected a thing. No one that it is, except for my mom. Mothers have a sixth sense when it comes to their children's likes and dislikes.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 1 I'm Not a Sissy! By Sharon Parsons

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Most people who know me...and I mean really know me, can't understand how or why I could have given up my life as a boy to become a girl. Of course the reason they don't understand is because they don't know me as well as they think they do.

Its hard to tell by looking at me now, but up until last year, I was a regular looking boy who was leading a rather average life. I had friends and played sports. Girls liked me and I liked them. I didn't look, act, or talk like a sissy. As a matter of fact, and I'm ashamed to admit this now, but I was downright hateful towards people like me. Publicly hating them was my way of putting up a front. No one ever suspected a thing. No one that it is, except for my mom. Mothers have a sixth sense when it comes to their children's likes and dislikes.

I remember the first time she caught me wearing her clothes. I was 12 years old. To make matters worse, I was holding one of her cigarettes between my fingers- unlit of course!

As embarrassed and humiliated as I was, I had the wits about me to notice that she was neither shocked nor disgusted. None the less, she didn't look pleased either.

She was gone by the time I had put on my clothes and come out. I strongly considered running away, but since I had no money saved up, I elected to have dinner first. It made more sense to run away on a full stomach, if I was going to do it.

It was one of the most awkward dinners of my life but it wouldn't be the last time I felt awkward in front of my family. I didn't say a word to either of my parents or my little brother until halfway through dinner when my mother asked if everything was okay with me. As if she didn't know! She did know, but my father and little brother didn't because she hadn't told them. But she would. Wouldn't she?

From that day on, I lived in fear of the other shoe falling. Sooner or later, my mother would say something to me about what she had seen. But when? And just when I thought the whole incident might be forgotten, she spoke up.

Two weeks had passed since my mother had walked in on me. Summer vacation was right around the corner and I was thinking about swimming, and baseball, and hanging out with my friends. I won't say I had forgot what had happened, but I was trying to.

When I got home from school, I found my mom sitting on the couch in front of the TV, smoking a cigarette. There was a shopping bag from Victoria's Secret by her feet.

The conversation began rather ordinarily with questions about my day, and then it changed abruptly.

"I was thinking we should talk about the other day in my room," said my mother.

My heart skipped a beat and my stomach did flips. She wasn't going to let it go. But why had she waited until now? Why had she let me think it was over when it really wasn't.

She patted the couch and told me take a seat so that we could talk more comfortably. "Its okay," she said. "Your father is working late and Tony is playing across the street."

"Did you tell Dad?" I asked as I sat down next to her.

"No. Not yet. I wanted to talk with you first, you know...woman to woman."

I cringed as she said that, but I was also deeply aroused by the idea of talking to my mother woman to woman, even if she was just kidding. Regardless, I told my mother that I wasn't a woman because I was sure that was what she would want me to say. Beside that, I wasn't one. I was a boy- a male, like my father and brother.

"I know that," she said, "but I also know that wasn't the first time you've dressed up in my clothes." She took a puff from her cigarette and exhaled. "But I didn't know about the cigarettes. Are you smoking now?"

I didn't know what felt worse; the painful lump in my throat or the sickening nausea. I shook my head no, hoping she'd be satisfied with my silent answer.

"I know this is hard for you," said my mother as she leaned forward and put her cigarette out in the ashtray. "Its difficult for me too. I tried my best to pretend it never happened, but I can't do that. And I don't think you can either."

My eyes followed her hands as she removed a cigarette from her pack and lit it.

"Are you staring because this is bothering you or because you want one?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and told her I didn't smoke.

"You were holding a cigarette when I saw you in my room. Wouldn't you have lit it if I hadn't have been there?"

I told her I had just wanted to see what I'd look like. It was the truth, but as soon as I had said it, I wished that I could take it back. That must sound so stupid to her, I thought.

She nodded her head as if she understood. "I used to do the same thing with my mother's cigarettes when I was your age. As a matter of fact, sometimes I'd even wear her clothes when I did it. I guess it made me feel older and more like her."

The excitement in my face must have been obvious as I looked her in the eye for the first time since the conversation began. "You did?" I asked.

She smiled at me and laughed softly. "Yes, I did honey. I suppose that must sound rather silly to you."

"No it doesn't."

"Oh no?"

I shook my head.

"I see," said my mother as she took a long puff from her cigarette and exhaled toward the ceiling. "Is that what you were doing when I walked in on you? Were you pretending to be older? Or were you pretending to be me?"

"Both," I said between heavy breaths.

She smiled knowingly, as if she'd played a winning hand of cards, and then she placed her hand on my knee. "I thought so," she said. "But I was afraid to come out and say it in case I was wrong. I know how hard this must be for you and I didn't want to embarrass you any more than I already had."

It was at that moment that my mother and I bonded in a way that I had only fantasized about. She said she had done the same thing I had done. That meant I had done the same thing she had. When you thought about it like that. It meant that in some kind of cosmic way, I was like my mother and she had just acknowledged it. Perhaps she was right about us having a woman to woman to woman talk. I smiled back at her.

She looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. It made me feel nervous and wonderful at the same time. My mother and I had a secret, at least I hoped it was a secret.

"I bought you some things," she said as she lifted the bag from Victoria's Secret and set it on the coffee table. "I left the tags on them in case you want me to take them back, but if you're going to keep doing this, I think it would be best for you to have your own things. You're not that much bigger than me but you have been stretching my panties a bit," she said as she pulled a pair of silky pink panties from the bag. "Aren't they gorgeous?" she asked.

They were gorgeous! But I couldn't say so. To say so would be to admit that I was a little sissy. I had too much going for me to do that. My reputation was at stake. Who knew where this could lead?

Mom laid the panties on my lap and pulled a long cream colored nightgown with pink lace from the bag. "I thought you could lock you door at night when you go to bed. That way...well, you know. Isn't it just darling?"

It was darling. Even if I didn't say so, which I didn't, the gown was beautiful, and I wanted so badly to put it on. I couldn't believe it was really mine! But how could I take it. She'd know the truth about me if I did. But she already knew. She'd known for a long time. I wasn't a boy in my mother's mind any more. I was a girl like her. It excited me as much as hurt me to think my mother knew that I wanted to put on those panties and wear that nightgown.

"I got you a bra too," she said as she pulled out a lacy pink bra that matched the panties. "It's a "C" cup, so I know its a little large, but you can stuff it."

Stuff it? Oh yeah! Sure, I could stuff it. I'd have boobs just like her then! But how could I? How could I trade my dignity for boobs and panties? What would Dad and Tony say if they caught me wearing them? Tony might let it slip to my friends. Or maybe he'd tell on purpose. My life would be over!

"I can't take these Mom. You got to take them back. I don't want them."

Mom turned her head and frowned. I saw the disappointment and confusion on her face as she put the bra back in the bag.

"Do you really want me to take them back," she asked? "Or do you really want them and you're just too embarrassed to say so?"

"I can't wear those Mom. I'm a boy," I whined. "Boys don't wear stuff like that."

"I know they don't. At least most boys don't," she said. "But we're not talking about most boys honey. We're talking about you and I'm not blind. I've seen the way you stare at me while I'm getting dressed and putting on my make-up. I know you like to read my women's magazines when you don't think anyone is looking. It just means you have a feminine side to you. That's all. Its not the end of the world."

She made it sound so normal, but I knew I wasn't. And even though I wasn't a fortune teller, I understood the gravity of the situation at hand. If I said yes to the clothes, I was saying yes to being a sissy. Saying yes would change my life in so many ways that could never be right.

I wanted those clothes with all my heart but I didn't want the other things that came with them. I didn't want my parents or anyone else thinking of me as a sissy. It was supposed to be a secret. My mom wasn't supposed to find out about it but she knew everything. Wasn't that bad enough? Did I need to make it worse by taking the clothes?

I knew with every fiber of my body that I should I say no to the clothes. I knew I'd dress up again, but I'd be more careful. This wasn't something I wanted anyone else to know about, especially my mom.

"I'll tell you what," said my mother. "I won't take them back but that doesn't mean you have to wear them. I'll just put them in your dresser. They'll be safe there and no one else will find them. If you want to wear them you can. And if you don't want to wear them, you won't have to."

"I don't know mom."

"Its okay sweetie. I won't tell your father or Tony. This will be our little secret."

I leaned forward and hugged her before she could hug me.

"Thanks Mom. I love you so much. You don't know how much. I've always loved you."

"I love you too Michelle."

---

 

This is a continuation of "Mike versus Michelle: I'm Not A Sissy". Mike who is Michelle in private tells us a little about his likes and dislikes. This is his first summer as a secret sissy.

Mike versus Michelle: Part 2
Secret Sissy Summer
By Sharon Parsons

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I took the the things mom bought me from Victoria's Secret and put them in my dresser. I did as she suggested and locked my door at night. I was in heaven! Although I'd worn my mother's lingerie many times before, I never had the opportunity to go to sleep in a nightgown and wake up wearing it!

Of course I did more than just sleep in my sexy long nightgown! I pranced in it. I watched TV in it. And obviously I masturbated in it.

Oddly enough, I never masturbated to sexual thoughts. It was more than enough for me to fantasize about wearing pretty clothes in front of my mom and her friends. In my fantasies, I was one of them, even though I was still a boy, but they accepted me as a woman! Did they notice I was only 12? Wasn't it obvious that I was a boy? It didn't matter because it was my fantasy and it felt so good to touch my self through the silk as I pictured myself as one of them.

I had difficulty concentrating during the last two weeks of school. I had never been the best student in the world, so having another distraction didn't help. While I should have been listening to my teachers, I was instead daydreaming about being one of the girls. I was one of the girls in the teacher's lounge. I was one of the girls on the playground. My mind would alternate between being a 12 year old girl and being an adult woman.

I looked at the clothes the girls my age in school were wearing and compared them to my mom's clothes at home and the clothes my teachers wore. The younger clothes were cute, especially the dresses, but the pink tees and girl's jeans didn't do it for me. I liked the real dresses and women's pant suits that populated my mother's closet. I felt the same about purses. The girls in my school carried around little purses capable of holding not much more than a tube of lipstick and a compact. But my mother's purses and the ones my teachers slung across their shoulders were as big as houses. I imagined all the things I could carry if I had a big purse.

My friends were the other things that distracted me from my school work. They all had a case of summer fever. Our community pool had opened up and that's where we spent most of our nights after supper. On the weekends we'd play baseball. My two best friends in the whole world were Frank Rodrigues and Cam Holsteader. Frank lived in another neighborhood but it was close enough to ride my bike too. Cam lived two houses down and had a little brother who was Tony's age.

Given my drithers, I'd rather spend time at Cam's house than Frank's because Cam's mom was hot! Her name was Dana and she was good friends with my mom. Sometimes I thought about what it would be like to kiss Mrs. Holsteader, but when I did think about it, I'd feel guilty because of Mr. Holsteader. Mr. Holsteader was a nice guy. His name was Dave and he and my dad were pretty good friends. The Holsteaders had a second house in the mountains and we'd usually go up with them for a week every summer. Those were my favorite vacations because I got to hang out with Cam and I also got to look at his mom.

Getting back to my mom, she was really cool about the stuff from Victoria's Secret. She knew I was embarrassed about it so she tried not to bring it up. After the first week of summer, she bought me five more pairs of panties because I'd mess them up and she didn't like me sleeping in them when they were dirty. That was almost as embarrassing as having the panties in the first place, but she said she understood and told me not to worry about it.

That summer seemed to fly by. I was a boy by day and a girl in my bedroom. In some ways it was the best of both worlds. And the only two people who knew about both of my worlds were myself and my mom.

Mom did her best to include me whenever her friends came over. By include me, I mean she acknowledged my presence and tried to include me in the conversations. I loved hanging out with her friends- especially Cam's mom, Mrs. Holsteader. But usually if Mrs. Holsteader came over, Cam came with her, so I'd have to break away from the ladies and hang with my friend.

I learned a lot about women by spending time around my mom and her friends. I loved the way they talked with their high pitch voices. They were always moving their hands around, especially while they were smoking. Sometimes I'd hold a pencil between my fingers and try to move my hand around like they did. It made me feel so feminine when I copied them.

My little brother and my father had gotten their hair cut twice before school started back in the fall. My dad badgered me about getting mine cut, but I always found a way to put it off. By the time I entered eight grade in the fall, my hair was touching my shoulders. I loved it.

My friends who hadn't seen me over the summer gave me a little crap about my hair being so long at first. But eventually they got used to it. Dad didn't. He was bothering me about it at least once a week. Mom tried to defend me and my hair by saying a lot of boys were wearing it long. Dad wouldn't give in though until I promised to at least get it trimmed. Mom told him that she'd take me to the place where she gets her hair cut. Dad laughed and said I deserved it to get my hair cut in a beauty parlor.

That was a weird moment for me. I felt bad about my dad laughing at me. The way he said "beauty parlor" was bad enough, but I knew he was thinking sissy parlor when he said it. He knew it and I knew it. Tony laughed too, but I think he was just laughing because our dad was.

I felt bad about my dad laughing at me but I was relieved that I'd get to keep my hair long. And you better believe I was excited by the idea of getting my hair cut in a beauty parlor. So like I said, it was a weird moment for me, but not as weird as actually sitting in the chair next to my mom as two women did our hair.

Not surprisingly, I was the only boy in the salon, although there was one girl there who was about my age, except a little older like fifteen or sixteen. Everyone else in the store was older, like my mother's age. I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Mom told me not to worry about it and asked me if I wasn't just the tiniest bit excited about getting my hair done in a beauty salon.

I was excited but I was also worried. I told her I was afraid they'd make me look like a woman.

She told me not to worry because she'd be right there with me. She assured me that I'd still look like a boy when I was done. She told me it would be fun.

Mom was right about the fun, but she was a little off on the manly forecast. To be fair, some of it was my own fault. The lady who did my hair asked if she could shape my eyebrows a little. I hesitated and turned to my mom for advice. She said a little wouldn't hurt, so I went with her suggestion.

In the end, I thought it was a bit much but my mother assured me that probably no one else would notice the slight feminine arch. Yes, I was worried that my friends would notice but I was also silently delighted with the look!

I have to admit that I loved the entire experience! Going to a beauty salon was nothing like going to Pete the barber. I loved getting getting a shampoo and the manicure felt wonderful on my hands. They didn't use nail polish or anything like that on me, but it felt nice- like a hand massage.

I walked out of the salon with a nice looking haircut. It was still long, hanging close to my shoulders, but it was neat and styled. I didn't look like a girl, but I knew that I could if I tried.

Mom told me that I looked terrific and asked if I liked it. I loved it but I wouldn't say so. I told her it was alright but I thanked her for taking me. I told her I liked the hand massage. I felt kind of guilty about not showing my excitement, but that's what I meant about not wanting her to think of me as a sissy.

I understood there was something different about me. No other boy in his right mind would allow his mother to take him to a beauty salon, much less wear pretty little panties and nightgowns to bed.

My attraction to womanly clothes and feminine things was beyond the scope of my understanding. I just knew that I liked it. I loved it and wanted more of it.

I don't think at that point in my life I ever really wanted to be a woman for real or for keeps. For me it was about being "like" a woman and "like" my mom. Its safe to say I idolized her the way most boys idolize their fathers. She was and is my role model.

Mom needed a cigarette after we finished with the salon, so we went to the food court. It was only 11:00, too early for lunch, so she got us a couple Diet Cokes and we sat at a table so mom could smoke.

I had just turned 13 and was still a year away from smoking my first cigarette, but I thought about it often. I identified smoking as being a feminine habit, even though I knew that just as many men as women smoked. Maybe it was because I grew up with a mom that smoked and a dad that didn't. Regardless, I couldn't imagine seeing my dad with a cigarette and at the same time, I couldn't imagine my mother without one. It just looked right on her.

After she finished her cigarette, mom announced that she'd like to do a little shopping before we went home. We got up from our table and I followed her out of the food court and into Macy's.

School was just a couple of weeks away from starting, so it made sense that I would need some new pants and shirts. We also looked for some that would fit Tony while we were there.

We were spending all of our time in the boy's department and there's nothing remotely feminine about the boy's department. I say this because I want you to know that buying something feminine for myself was the last thing on my mind. Yes, I'd gotten a nice hair cut and even had my eyebrows shaped a little, but it wasn't really that noticeable. I knew I'd get away with it when I went back to school.

My dressing up had always been a private thing. The only time I'd ever let my mother see me dressed was by accident and I had no intentions of ever dressing as a girl in public. That's why the nightgowns, and the bras, and the panties had always been enough for me. Those aren't the kinds of things you wear in public, even if you are a girl, which I certainly wasn't.

We were leaving Macy's with our bags full of boy's clothes when my mother stopped in front of the junior miss department.

My heart immediately went into palpitation mode. I knew darn well thatl my mother didn't have a reason to stop in front of the junior miss department unless...

"I was thinking we could look around a little since we're already here," said my mother.

"Not for me," I said sternly.

"Yes for you," said my mother in her melodious tone that seemed to mock and reassure me at the same time.

"What for? Its not like I go outside when I do what I do. What's the use of paying for something I'm just going to wear in my room?"

"So you're saying that if we buy you something, you'll at least wear it in your room?"

"No. I'm just saying its a waste of money and I don't need anything else."

"Like you didn't need your hair trimmed today?"

"Well I didn't need it. The only reason I did it was because Dad said I had to get it cut."

"But you could have gone to a regular barber like your father does but you didn't."

"Thats because it was your idea to go to the salon."

"And I was right," said my mother. "A barber would have chopped up your hair and since you want to wear it long, I knew best about what would work for you. Just like I know now that you're going to kick yourself if you don't let me help you pick something out. What about this top," she said as she picked a white flowing hippie type shirt from a rack. The label on the collar said it was made by a company called Miss Chievious. "I think this would look nice on you if you had a pair of jeans to go along with it."

"I already have jeans," I said defensively.

"But not like these," she said as she pulled a pair of Baby Phats from another rack while draping the top across her shoulders. "They both look to be about your size, but it would probably be best if you tried them on here so we don't have to take them back."

"I can't change my clothes here," I said adamantly. "This is a girl's store and I'm a boy."

"I hate to break it to you Michael, but with that new haircut and your eyebrows arched, you could pass for a girl if you tried these on."

"What!" I shouted as I looked at a floor length mirror mounted on a column. "You said it it didn't look bad. My friends will kill me if they find out."

"Relax honey. It doesn't look bad and no one can tell by looking at you in the clothes you have on now. What I'm trying to say is that you look kind of ambiguous with your hair long. If you dress like a boy, then people will see a boy. And if you dress like a girl..."

I completed my mother's sentence. "Then people will think I'm a girl?"

Mom smiled at me. "Yes honey. That's what I'm saying. But isn't that what you want? You know, to have it both ways, to see what its like."

"Well yeah. Kind of. But I didn't want to do it for every one to see. Its supposed to be secret. I could get in a lot of trouble if anyone ever found out."

Mom started to look cross and it was clear to me that her patience was wearing thin. "I'm not trying to make you do anything that you don't want to do. I'm not pushing this on you and just so you know, you're certainly not doing this for me. So if that's what you're thinking, then maybe we should forget about the whole thing and just leave. As a matter of fact, if you want, we can stop by the barber on the way home and fix what they did in the salon."

It was then that it dawned on me that my mother was right about kicking myself if left the mall without something like a dress. A dress? Why not the top and jeans that my mom was holding? Because thats not what I like, I thought. I don't want to look like a teenage girl. Mom doesn't wear stuff like that. I want to look like her! I looked at the simple but stylish blue dress she was wearing.

I don't know how much time ticked off the clock while I was preparing my answer but I know I did a lot of thinking, and I though fast- maybe too fast.

What do I have to lose by saying yes, I wondered? Mom knows I like women's clothes. But if I'm going to do it, I don't want to look like a girl from my school. I want to look older and more mature.

I looked at the top and jeans my mom was carrying. They were definitely feminine. I mean no one was going to mistake them for boy's clothes. All I have to say is yes and they're mine. I won't even have to try them on here if I put up a fight.

And then I stumbled on my pride. Just how much of a sissy do I want my mother to think I am? Was it really worth it? I mean I didn't even like the clothes she was holding- not really.

"I don't think so Mom. Lets just go home," I said.

"Does that mean you want to stop by the barber too?"

"No," I whined. "Lets just go."

Mom looked disappointed as she hung the top and jeans back on their racks.

We walked the next fifty feet or so in silence with me kicking my self in the butt as we got closer and closer to the exit. And that's when I saw the skirt and blouse in the Anne Klein section. The skirt was long and flowing and printed with red and yellow flowers. The top was just white and the mannequin wearing it looked so elegant and classy. It was something my mom would wear. I summoned up my courage and stopped in front of the mannequin.

"Its very pretty," said my mother knowingly. "You have good taste. But don't you think its a little old for you. It looks like something I would wear."

My face felt like it was burning so I looked at the floor to hide my shame while shuffling my feet. "I know that Mom. Thats why I like it."

Mom nodded her acknowledgement of my words as she placed a finger to her chin in thought. "I still think its a little old for you. As a matter of fact, I think its very old for you, but if this is what you like, then I suppose it would be less expensive and more private to look through my closet."

"Really? But I thought you said I was too big and that I stretched your clothes."

Mom shook her no. "I just said that because I thought it best that you have your own things. I still do, so whatever you like, if its something I'm willing to part with, we'll call it yours."

"Really?" I didn't know what else to say. I was stunned, not so much that my mom would offer to let me have some of her clothes but because for the first time since she caught me, I was honest about what I wanted, even though I hadn't really explained it to either of us.

"Yes Michelle. I do mean it. If that's what you really want then you're not asking for much. But if you don't mind, I'd still like to buy you the top and the jeans."

I started to argue with her but thought better of it. "Okay Mom. We've got a deal."

"Then its done, but we'll still need to get you some shoes."

"But why? Its not like I'm going to go out or anything."

"Trust me honey. You'll feel better about yourself in a pair of shoes that fits, even if you never leave your room."

********

Dad and Tony were in the front yard playing catch when Mom and I pulled up the driveway. Tony asked us what was in the bags and Dad asked me when I was going to get a hair cut.

"He already did," said my mother as she ran her fingers through my shoulder length hair. "Beth just trimmed off the split ends and gave it a little body. I think it looks nice."

Dad shook his head and threw the ball to Tony who dropped it. He was focused more on what mom and I had in the bags than he was on his game of catch.

"Did you get me anything," asked Tony?

"Just some clothes for school," said Mom. "I got you both some new pants and shirts. You can try them on after dinner."

"Aw mom! Do I have to?" he whined.

Mom told him she wouldn't have said it if she hadn't meant it. She turned and walked inside the house with me following in pursuit. The last thing I wanted was for Tony or Dad to get a look inside my bag.

She described some of the clothes she thought I might like as I followed her up the stairs to her room. "I have some extra purses you might like too. Do you like dresses or pantsuits?"

"Both," I said shyly.

"Well I wish we had the time and privacy for you to try them on, but I'm pretty sure they'll fit." She looked at my flat chest. "But you'll definitely have to fill that bra of yours with some socks or something. I know, maybe I can look into getting you something more realistic than socks."

"What do you mean?"

"You know. Breast forms. They're made from the same material they use in breast implants."

I couldn't hide my excitement. The idea of having real looking breasts was titillating. "Would I be able to sleep in them," I asked?

"I suppose so. As long as you take them off before you go to school."

I laughed at her joke. "I don't think I'd forget something like that."

"Probably not," said my mother as she opened the door to her walk-in closet.

---

 

Mom was very generous with her closet. She was also generous with her patience and understanding. On our way home from the mall, we talked about the situation. I confessed a lot to her on the way home, but I didn't confess everything. At the same time, she said things to me that went a long way toward explaining her tolerance for what I was doing.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 3 Praise For Mom By Sharon Parsons

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Mom was very generous with her closet. She was also generous with her patience and understanding. On our way home from the mall, we talked about the situation.

I confessed a lot to her on the way home, but I didn't confess everything. At the same time, she said things to me that went a long way toward explaining her tolerance for what I was doing.

Up until then, I had always thought of my mother as being the most unselfish person on the planet. She always seemed to put everyone's happiness ahead of her own. I still think she's the most unselfish person I know, but on the way home from the mall, I learned that my mother was deriving at least a little bit of joy from what I was doing.

I never doubted her love for my brother and I. She was and is our biggest fan, but I suppose her love for us was so bright that it blinded me from seeing the hole in her heart.

Short and sweet, Mom missed not having a daughter. She loved her sons but there was part of her that always wondered what her life would have been like if she had had a daughter. Now that I'm older and have a family of my own, I understand her feelings better. But on that day in the car, I just accepted what she told me. I understood, but now my understanding includes the feelings that go along with the knowledge.

My wanting to wear "older" clothes and to dress like her hit her hard. It wasn't my sense of fashion that affected her. It was my reasons for wanting to dress like her.

She had always known about my adventures in her closet but she was in the dark as to what my motivations were. My mom is as logical as she is compassionate, so she chalked up my adventures to curiosity, sexuality, and or physical pleasure. She never considered the idea that there might be something more behind it.

At the time, I'd never heard of the saying, "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery". But Mom had, and she recognized my actions for what they were, and when she did, it made her very happy.

She was happy. I was happy. We began to trust each other in ways that were previously impossible. That ride in the car was a Hall Mark moment of sorts, though I don't expect to see transexuals on a greeting card anytime soon.

The reasons behind my actions and desires were becoming more clear to both my mother and I. However, we were both clueless as to where it would lead.

At 13, I was too young to know what I needed. I was only aware of what I wanted and I wanted to be like my mom. She was the center of my universe. She had always been there when I needed her most. She was the one who bandaged my scraped knees, fed me when I was hungry, and delved out the hugs that let me know everything would be okay.

With all this praise for my mother, you might be tempted to think my father was some kind of monster, but he wasn't. My dad is an awesome guy and I can plainly see why my mother loves him as much as she does. I wish my father and I had a better relationship. It's not terrible, but it could be better. I don't blame him though because I'm not what he expected.

I knew he'd be disappointed in me. My mom knew it too. That's why neither of us were in a rush to tell him what a sissy I was. The fear of disappointing my parents, especially my father, led to my having a secret double life. But on that day in the car, I started the process of sharing that secret with my mother and it was liberating for both of us.

I wish I could tell you that my mother and I had some kind of brilliant master plan for my future, but we didn't. The truth of it was that we were making up the rules as we went a long. At that point, I don't think either of us expected me to become the woman I am today. She was just trying to make me happy and we were both trying fulfill our needs.

It would have been so much easier for both of us if I had been born a girl. Mom would have had the daughter she wanted so badly and I would have had the chance to experience the phases of womanhood in the right order. I also wouldn't have had to live with the shame of wanting to be something that I wasn't born to be. You'd have to be a boy to know the shame that goes along with the pleasure that comes with dressing up as a woman.

I grew up like any other boy. I could go into it in detail, but the point is that I didn't play with dolls and I didn't play dress-up. I didn't play any of the games that little girls play. I think childhood games prepare us for our lives as adults. I didn't know it then, but I was getting a crash course on everything I missed out on as a kid.

LIttle girls want so badly to be big girls like their mother and I was no exception. That's why I wanted to wear her clothes and emulate her. My mother understood that and that is why she was so generous with her wardrobe. She knew I was playing a childhood game of dress-up with her clothes behind my locked bedroom door.

Her hand me down clothes were for me and the cute jeans and top from Macy's junior department were for her. As I said before, my mother is a very logical and practical person. She might have wished she could dress me up in a three year old's clothes, but she knew she had missed out on that part of my life. She didn't want to miss out on my teen years. At the same time, I was in such a hurry to become an adult. I think most 13 year olds are.

What on earth could be so special about a mother and woman that it would make a child of the opposite gender want to be like her? I've asked myself that question a million times. I've discovered the answer varies depending on whether I reflect on it through the imaginative eyes of a child or an adult who understands the hard truths of reality.

Since I was young before I was old, my appreciation for my mother was based on my childhood perception of her. For starters, she was and is the most beautiful woman in the world. I realize some people would beg to differ with me, but that would be pointless since we're talking about my perceptions rather than theirs or anyone else's. And don't most children, boys and girls, think the world of their mothers?

Besides being enamored by her beauty, I was in awe of her femininity, grace, wisdom, and strength. My dad was the figurehead leader of our household, but as is the case in most homes, its the mother who is the true leader of the family. I recognized that early in my life. It wasn't important to me that it was my dad who was the bread winner. I could only appreciate what my mother did with the bread he brought home.

My mom is a stay at home house wife and so am I. When I was younger, I thought my mother had an easier job than my father. She got to stay at home, make herself pretty, and have fun with my brother and I while my dad trudged off to work. I don't feel that way any more. Being a stay at home mother is the toughest job in the world, but I believe its also the most rewarding.

I really looked up to my mom and I saw her as being in charge of our family. I think my dad saw her like that too. He was by no means hen pecked, but I could tell he had a deep and resounding respect for her. They discussed things, but hers was usually the last and defining word on any given subject.

My mother never slumped and always held her head up high. I will always remember her as being the last one to look away during a conversation or a disagreement with other people, yet she was as feminine and graceful as she was powerful and strong.

Her only weakness is her addiction to cigarettes, but ironically, as a child, I mistook her weakness as a strength and of course I wanted to be strong like her. As a child and young teen, I glamorized my mother's smoking and was in awe of it.

The concept of breathing smoke seemed so challenging and difficult to my childish mind, so I reasoned that my father and others weren't up to the task. She was and is a heavy smoker. The habit invaded every waking moment of her life. She smoked while she did her housework, and when she chatted on the phone, and drove the car. There was nothing she couldn't or wouldn't do without a cigarette between her fingers.

When I was younger, I saw my mother's habit as a badge of feminine honor rather than the crutch it really is. Her smoking made a deep and resounding impression on me, even though she warned and encourage me not to follow in her footsteps. Her footsteps? Mom had big shoes and I was eager to fill them.

Speaking of shoes, my mother bought me a pair of white sandals. She said they'd go with almost anything. I took her at her word because unlike most boys who dreamed of being girls, I lacked a fashion IQ. I just knew what felt good to me.

Besides some dresses and suits, my mom gave me an old Coach purse. It was made of cream colored leather and was big enough to move in to. Before she gave it to me, she emptied it of its contents and picked and chose what would be returned to it. I got a small compact mirror, a tube of lipstick, a wallet, and a hair brush in the exchange. She kept the half a pack of Virginia Slims cigarettes and the two disposable lighters for her self.

I think I remember so much about that one day because it was one of the most important days in my life for better or worse. I replay it over and over to see if my life would have changed if anything had happened differently that day. I don't think it would have.

Nothing extraordinary happened to me in my eighth grade year. Mom kept my secret and no one else found out. I didn't fall in love and I didn't go to jail that year. I didn't get expelled from school either, but there were plenty of days when I wished they would throw me out.

Mom and I continued to get closer. Dad noticed it, but he didn't think anything of it. I was still the same to him, except that I needed a haircut.

The next important thing that happened to me was make-up. I had played around with lipstick and face powder, but I had never taken the time to learn to use it correctly. It wasn't for lack of wanting to on my part. It had more to do with my family situation and the fact that 13 year old boys aren't afforded a lot of privacy or time alone.

The other big thing that happened and went hand in hand with the make-up was that I went on my first public outing dressed as a girl. Mom took me to the salon where I had originally got my hair done. I got the royal treatment and this time they did use nail polish when they gave me a manicure.

These two wonderful events took place over the Christmas break. My mom and I were able to do it because my father was out of town on business and Tony had gone on a skiing trip with one of his friend's family. Dad actually felt bad for me because I thought I was missing out.

---

 
To Be Continued...

This is part 4 of "Mike versus Michelle". Mike goes out in public for the first time dressed as a girl. He also meets a boy and it bothers him in many ways which he explains. As a matter of fact, as always, Mike is doing a lot of explaining.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 4 The Public Sissy By Sharon Parsons

---

 
I had been going to school for four months without any major or minor repercussions, because I erred on the wide side of caution. I wasn't one to take chances. I never wore panties to school, even though I would have loved to. I adhered to a very strict rule that called for no dressing up outside of my room. And when I did dress up, I always locked my door.

I won't tell you I liked eighth grade because I didn't. Academics weren't my thing, but I had always enjoyed the social aspect of school until...my hair got longer. And then it wasn't bad, but it was definitely different than I had been used to.

Hair and clothes are both superficial things, but I discovered they play a big role in other people's perceptions. My long hair had made me look like a rebel of sorts. It didn't bother my good friends like Cam or Frank. I don't think they would have cared if I shaved my head or dyed my hair pink. But other kids noticed.

I didn't have a reputation as a sissy outside of my bedroom, so I didn't take it seriously when some of the boys from school would kid me about my hair and call me a fag. They laughed when they said it and I could tell they didn't really mean it.

Girls noticed my longer hair too, especially the "bad girls". They weren't really bad as in evil. We just called them bad girls because they dressed in black tee shirts, smoked cigarettes and had potty mouths. Mothers like mine didn't care for girls like that, but I did, and so did my friends. Cam and Frank were jealous of the attention I was getting from them. Frank even threatened to quit cutting his hair. We knew he wasn't serious because we knew his dad. Mr. Rodriguez would have kicked him out of the house and stomped his ass.
 

***
 
As a general rule of thumb, eighth grade boys and girls don't date. They "go" together. Its like going steady without really going out. I know that sounds kind of silly, but that's the way it was back then and probably is today.

I went with a girl named named Wendy Deitrich. There was a rumor going around the school that Wendy shaved her vagina, but I never asked her and I never saw. I just thought it was cool to hang out with her at lunch and talk to her in the halls because thats what boyfriends and girlfriends do in the eighth grade.

I started going with Wendy around halloween and she broke up with me the day before Christmas break. She said I was boring and that we never did anything. Worse than that, she asked if I was gay.

I was really bothered by that. When Wendy asked me if I was gay, it wasn't like when my friends called me a fag for having long hair. My friends were just kidding but Wendy wasn't. Of course I told her no, but that's beside the point. It really hurt my feelings that she'd even wonder.

And that got me to thinking. I started wondering if I really liked girls. I definitely thought they were pretty and I loved hanging around them. So if I liked them, then that meant I wasn't gay!

I thought about my friends and tried to imagine myself snogging with them and couldn't. The thought didn't fit right. But the thought of snogging Wendy Deitrich didn't fit either. When it came right down to it, there was only one person in the world I ever seriously considered kissing and that was Cam's mom- Mrs. Holsteader.
 

***
 
Christmas break started as a bust with Wendy dumping me. And the first couple days weren't any better because I was moping around worried about my sexuality. The only thing that made me feel better was dressing up in my mom's clothes and beating off, but I couldn't do much of that either because Tony was still in the house.

I knew that if I could make it one more day, Mom and I would have the house to ourselves. Dad was away on business and Tony was going with one of his friends on skiing trip to Ski Sundown in New Hartford. All I had to do was to hang tight until Sunday and not make any mistakes.

When Sunday morning came, I said goodbye to Tony and stood with mom in the driveway as he got into Herbert's car and drove away. It was official. Mom and I had the house to ourselves.

I didn't need Wendy Deitrich, or Cam, or Frank. I had my mom and a closet full of her old clothes. I was going to spend the next three days dressing like her and hanging out with her! We'd been talking about it all week. She was going to show me how to wear make-up!

I was ready to go back in the house and I looked at her as if to coax her along. I didn't want her to change her mind.

Mom grinned and said, "It looks to me like you're ready to get started."

I was a little bothered that I looked so eager, but I knew it wasn't like I had anything to hide from her. "What do we do first," I asked?

As we walked back inside the house, Mom explained to me that before we did anything, I needed to shave my legs and arm pits.

I asked if she was kidding. She told me she wasn't. I asked what shaving my legs had to do with putting on make-up.

"You want to feel like a real girl, don't you," she asked?

I nodded.

"Then you'll want to shave because girls are smooth and our clothes feel and look nicer when there's no hair."

I'd never thought about shaving my legs before and I'd certainly never thought about shaving under my arms. It wasn't that I didn't want to, but I was impatient and was ready to get down to the serious business of learning how to put on make-up. Beside that, I was afraid of what my friends would say if they noticed.

Mom poo-pooed all my reasons for not wanting to do it as she pushed me into the bathroom and handed me a razor. "The sooner you get finished in here, the sooner we can get started," she said as she left me alone in the bathroom.

I did as mom said and made quick work of my legs and arms. After the first knick or two, I decided that I didn't really care much for shaving, but I finished what I started. I also decided that If this is what girls had to look forward to every morning, then I felt sorry for them.

I got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself. Mom was sitting at her vanity and I told her I'd be back after I got dressed.

She told me to put on the jeans and top that we had gotten at the mall. I hadn't expected that and told her that I wanted to wear the gray pantsuit she had given me.

My mom told me that if she wanted to see another old lady, she'd look at her self in the mirror. "Put on the jeans and top," she said. "I want to see how cute my daughter looks in it!"

I grumbled without disagreeing as I walked down the hall to my room for the change.

I heard Mom shout from her room. "And make sure you put on a bra!"

I stuffed the bra with socks before meeting Mom in her room.

She gushed when she saw me. There was so much emotion that I mistook her joy for sadness.

"Oh Michelle! You look adorable," she said as she held out her arms for a hug.

"I like it when you call me that," I whispered in her ear as we hugged.

"You do?"

I nodded my head and pulled away. "Yeah. It makes me happy."

"It makes me happy too," she said as she moved my bangs away from my eyes. "We really need to do something about this," she said. "Its so limp and stringy. It's a good thing I made an appointment for you at the salon."

"For tomorrow?"

"No. For today. I don't want to rush you, but the appointment is for 11:00, so we've only got an hour and a half."

I wanted to go to the salon. I really did- but not right then. I'd been planning on dressing up with Mom since we found out Dad and Tony would be gone at the same time. It was bad enough that I was dressed like a teen when I wanted to dress like mom. "But Mom! I just got dressed. I even shaved. Can't you call them and changeit for another day?"

She shook her head and smiled. "I think we can do both."

"Huh!"

She took me by the shoulders and turned me so that I was looking into the mirror. "What are you worried about," she asked? "You're beautiful."

"But Mom. I can't."

"Don't say you can't until you give me a chance to do your make-up and do something with your hair. I think you look fine now, but if you don't agree with me after I'm done, then..."

"Then I don't have to go?"

"I didn't say that. I was going to say if you don't like it, we'll try it again until you do like it."

"I don't know Mom. I don't think its such a good idea."

"Oh yeah? Well I have something to show you that might change your mind?"

I didn't say anything while she went to her closet and pulled out a box. But my jaw dropped low when she took the lid off the box and I saw inside.

"They look like breasts," I said.

"Don't they?" said my mom as she took one out and placed it in my hands.

I don't know how to describe it. I've never felt a real breast before but I can't believe a real one would feel any different than the one in my hands. It was flesh tone and matched my own skin coloring very well. "How do I put them on," I asked?

"Take your top off and I'll show you," said my mother.

Whoa! The feeling! I couldn't believe how heavy the felt. "Do yours feel like this," I asked? "You know. Top heavy."

Mom giggled. "Maybe. I'm not sure. I guess I've never really thought about it because I'm used to having them. So do you like them?"

"It feels so much different than socks. Yes! I love them," I said as I squished my breasts against hers in a hug. "Thanks Mom. I love you so much."

"I love you too Michelle."

I sat down at my mother's vanity and watched in the mirror as she began the process of putting make-up on my face. She described everything as she was doing it, and sometimes she'd give me a brush or a pad and have me do it too.

I thought I was looking great even before she did my hair. She used a hot curling iron and a brush to give my hair a little bounce and body. I was in awe of myself as I looked in the mirror.

"I really look like a girl, don't I?"

"Yes you do," said my mother as she put her hands on my shoulder and lowered her chin so that her cheeks were brushing mine. "I think you look like my daughter and I want to show her off at the mall."

"But you already did my make-up," I said. "Are we still going to the salon?"

"That's right honey," said my mother as she grabbed her purse. "You could still use some work and God knows I'm overdue for some maintenance."
 

***
 
After retrieving my purse from my room, Mom and I were off to the salon. My excitement over how good I looked was stronger than my fear, but I was still paranoid when we got out of the car and walked across the parking lot.

The paranoia was worse once we entered the mall because I was sure I wasn't imagining the stares from others.

"They are looking but believe me honey. Its not in a bad way. You look more than fine."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't have pushed you into this if I thought you couldn't handle it. Tell me the truth. Aren't you having at least a little bit of fun?"

Without hesitating, I told her I was having fun. "I feel so pretty," I said as I followed her into the salon.

Beth, the same woman who had done my hair the last time, led my mother and I to our chairs that were position beside each other. Mom told Beth that I wanted some help in looking older.

"How much older," asked Beth?

I shrugged out of embarrassment. "I don't know. Older. Like I could be my mom's sister or something."

Beth laughed. "I don't know sweetie. What are you? Sixteen? Seventeen? I could help you look like her younger sister. You'd probably look old enough to get in a bar without being carded. Would that be good enough?"

I nodded as I tried to restrain my excitement. She thinks I'm 16 or 17. If she's talking about me getting into bars then she's talking like 20 or something. "Cool," I said.

I watched Beth's every move in the mirror so I could remember how she did it. Every so often, Mom and I would wink at each other in the mirror while a lady named Cassie did her hair.

It was funny and ironic when I think about it and I guess mom had it in mind too, but as Beth made me look older, Cassie made my mom look younger. She still looked a lot older than me, but it was like Beth said. I could probably pass for my mother's younger sister.

The process took less than two hours. Mom and I walked out of the salon with freshly painted nails and spry heads of hair. I was so excited about the way I looked and felt that I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I just giggled.

"You really like it don't you," asked my mom?
 

***
 
How could I lie or play it down? "I love it Mom. Thank you so much," I said as I laid a big hug on her as we stepped on to the escalator.

"Are you hungry," asked Mom? "I am. There's a Ruby Tuesday's upstairs."

"Okay," I said as I followed her off the escalator and walked the ten yards or so into the restaurant.

Mom asked for a table in the smoking section and the hostess led us to a booth located in the bar. After opening her menu and laying it on the table in front of her, Mom removed a pack of Virginia Slims from her purse and left the pack on the table between us.

I pretended to be look at my menu but I was actually watching my mother as she shamelessly lit a cigarette. I told myself that I could never do something like that, but I wanted to. I'd be fourteen in a couple months. I wondered how old my mother was when she started.

The signs in convenience stores say you have to be 18 to buy cigarettes. I don't want to wait that long. One time I looked up a bunch of stuff on the web about my state- about how old you have to be to do certain things. I live in Connecticut. The age for drinking is 21. I think that's the same as the other states. The really crazy thing about my state is that you can get married at 16 if you have your parents permission. It doesn't matter if you're a boy or a girl, or two girls, or two boys.

I looked at the pack of cigarettes on the table and then back to my menu. They sure were close to me. Did she mean to put them that close?

"What do you think you want," asked my mother as she put down her menu and took a draw from her cigarette.

"A hamburger and fries sounds good."

"Oh Michelle," said my mother in a disappointed tone. "You'll bite into that greasy hamburger and smear the make-up off your face. Not to mention all the calories. I'm getting salad with thousand island dressing on the side. If you want to fit into those jeans after Christmas, you'll have to stop eating the way you used to."

I took my mother's comments with a grain of salt. I agreed with her that I didn't want to make a mess of my face with grease. But why was she talking about changing the way I eat? I wasn't fat and I wasn't skinny, at least not from my perspective, which was that of a boy.

I realized my mother was enjoying our girl time and it was special for her. It was special for me too. But I was starting to wonder if my hobby was more important to her than it was to me. And of course that led to an even more important question. How important is this hobby to me? Is it even a hobby? I love it! I enjoy it! I couldn't stop it if I wanted to and I didn't want to stop it, but I had tried to give it up before.

My confusion about where my so called hobby might lead argued with the pleasure I was getting from being dressed as a girl in front of my mother. This is supposed to be fun, I told myself. I'm dressed like a girl in front of my mother! I look older, like I should be in college or something. Isn't that enough? Or is it too much?

When the waitress came by to take our order, I asked for a salad with thousand island dressing on the side and a glass of unsweetened ice tea, the same as my mother.

I looked across the table at mom. She was all smiles. Nothing could be better as far as she was concerned. She was having too much fun to notice my dilemma. Was it even a dilemma?

"I'm having so much fun Michelle," said my mother as she stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. "How about you? Isn't this just the best day?"

I looked down at my freshly painted nails on my left hand and ran the fingers of my right hand across the curls in my hair and then to my naked ear lobe. "I am having fun. This is the best day."

And then without thinking about the consequences or repercussions, I asked my mother if I could get my ears pierced.

"Of course you can," said my mother enthusiastically! "I should have asked if you wanted to get them pierced while we were still in the salon?"

"They do it there," I asked?

"I think Claire's is on this level. We can get it done after lunch!", said my mother.

I'm going to get my ears pierced, I thought solemnly as I moved my hands to make room for my salad. None of my friends have their ears pierced.

"I don't want loops like yours," I said as I picked up my fork.

"They don't use loops when you first get your ears pierced honey. They'll be simple gold studs. If you're worried about your friends, they'll probably think its cool. I wouldn't be surprised if they do it too after they see yours."
 

***
 
I zoned out after that. I was still having conversations with my mother but I really can't recall what we were talking about, other than it was mother/daughter girl stuff. It was like half my brain was keeping pace with mom and the other half was thinking about everything else. I think they call that being preoccupied.

The one thought that played continuously in my mind was the fact that I was sitting in a public restauraunt in a mall crowded with Christmas shoppers dressed as a girl. How had I allowed my mother to talk me into doing this? And more importantly, why hadn't I done it earlier? It was great! It was phenomenal! I loved it!

I'm such a sissy loser, I thought as I watched my mother push aside her finished salad and light a cigarette. Why wasn't I repulsed? Why wasn't I in fear for my life?

I looked around the restaurant. No one was staring at me. I did get a few looks but none of their faces suggested they had seen anything other than a daughter having lunch with her mother.

I thought it funny and odd that I wasn't afraid, but at the same time, I was also deeply ashamed. I wasn't ashamed because of my lack of fear. I was ashamed because I had a raging erection.

I haven't mentioned this until now, or maybe I have and I've just forgotten. Its just embarrassing because I don't think its normal. I get erections when I wear women's clothes. It always happens when I'm wearing something that I consider to be extremely feminine, like a dress or a silk nightgown. It doesn't happen so much with jeans and blouses. But that day in the restaurant, the breast forms made me think about feeling feminine. That and the trip to the salon. Any way, like I was saying, I'd been struggling with a major league erection from the moment my mom helped me put on the breast forms.

Now that I'm older, I've pretty much accepted the fact that I get sexually turned on when I look and act like a woman. But it bothered me a lot when I was younger. Understanding something and accepting something are two different things. I still don't understand it to this day, but I've accepted it.

You don't get to where I got without spending at least a little time on a therapist's couch. My therapist told me I had a sexual addiction to women's clothing. That means I can't get an erection without wearing feminine clothes or thinking feminine thoughts.

Do you remember what I said about Wendy Deitrich? It threw my brain into 5th gear when she questioned my sexuality. It got me to thinking and it totally frustrated me because I couldn't come up with an answer that worked. I was certain that women turned me on. So how come I wasn't turned on by Wendy Deitrich?

The obvious answer was that I was gay, but that didn't work either. I wasn't turned on by guys. I liked them, but only as friends, the same as with girls. So if I wasn't turned on by girls or guys, then what was I turned on by? Was it dogs? Of course not!

I tried to write it off as a symptom of being only 13 and a half. My hormones were in high gear and I was masturbating on a nightly basis and having wonderful orgasms. I thought that maybe I was too young to like girls and that it would change as I got older. I certainly didn't want to like boys.

My therapist later explained it to me. but I didn't have the benefit of her council while I sitting with my mom, dressed as a girl, while she finished her cigarette. All I knew was that I had a hard-on as big as Texas and I hoped like hell it would go down before we got up from the table to leave.

I told my therapist about my first public outing and about that day at Ruby Tuesdays with my mom. She asked me what I thought about when I masturbated. I told her the truth. I told her that I think about getting dressed up in my mom's clothes and smoking her cigarettes. And that's when she told me that I had a sexual addiction.

I'm not gay. I'm not straight. I'm just some kind of weird and perverted sissy. That's the feeling I had while I was waiting for my mother to finish her cigarette. That's the feeling I had when my therapist explained my reasons for doing the things I did and the feelings I got from doing them. That's the way I feel after my husband makes love to me. Its joy and bliss up until the orgasm. and then afterwards, the joy is followed by shame and disgust to the nth degree.
 

***
 
I told my mother that I needed to go to the bathroom.

She looked at me seriously and said, "You know you can't use the men's room dressed like that, don't you?"

"I know Mom."

"Its no big deal sweetie. They're all just toilets. Just make sure you sit down."

I had positioned my erection to the best of my ability while sitting at the table, but the walk between the table and the restroom felt longer than a marathon, even though it was less than twenty feet and only took seconds.

I didn't have to pee, but I needed to relieve myself all the same. I had so much excitement built up. The orgasm was phenomenal and the tidal wave of shame that followed was like tsunami.

The worst part was that I couldn't change clothes. I was stuck as a girl until we got home. I wiped the sperm off my penis and pulled up my panties and jeans.

I didn't want to get my ears pierced any more, but I knew that I would and I did it, and it hurt both physically and emotionally.

Mom looked so proud of me after the woman at Claire's lowered the gun that had shot the studs into my ear.

She asked me if it had hurt. I told her it didn't. I lied. But I couldn't tell her otherwise. I wouldn't have known what to say or how to say it. I thought that at least one of us should be happy. Beside, I knew the feelings would pass.

It wasn't the first time I'd felt this way. I'd been feeling it all my life. I'm a girl, I thought as I stood up from the chair. And pretty soon I'll like it again. And then I'll hate it, and then I'll love it and it will always be like that. If only I'd been born a girl then none of this would be happening. I wouldn't feel like this.
 

***
 
My mom is really big into Christmas and so am I for that matter. But Christmas was less than two weeks away and she wanted to do some shopping.

"I don't want you to see what I get. Will you be okay by your self for about an hour?"

I was depressed but I felt safe. I told her I'd be okay. She told me to meet her in the food court in an hour. I said goodbye and we went our separate ways.

I was a girl by herself alone in the mall. How many times had I imagined that scenario? I walked the floors of the mall for the next ten minutes or so feeling sorry for myself, looking for a way out of the situation I had created.

I should be having the time of my life, I thought as I passed a shoe store without bothering to look inside. I felt like I was in a race to get to the other side of the mall even though I didn't have a destination in mind.

My depression started to lift after about 30 minutes of being on my own. That's the funny thing about having a sexual addiction. The remorse is intense but it doesn't last long.

I looked up to find myself standing in front of Victoria's Secret. I stopped feeling bad as soon as I saw all the new and wonderful opportunities hanging on the racks. I browsed the store without any of the embarrassment I would have felt as a boy. I'm a girl, I thought, and this is what girls do. I'm not doing anything wrong, and if I am, then nobody but me knows it. I bought a nice bra to go along with my new breast forms.

With fifteen minutes or so to kill, I bought a Diet Coke and took a seat in the food court. I'd spent most of my money on the bra and I kind of wanted to just sit and think about it.

I know mom would have bought it for me if I had asked. But it was important to me that I buy it with my own money. I opened the bag and peeked inside at my purchase. "My bra," I said out loud.

"Can I see," said a very masculine voice from behind.

I let out a scared but muffle shriek and spun around to see a very red faced boy.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just walking by and I heard what you said and it just came out of my mouth like that. I'm a smart-ass. I'm so sorry."

It seemed that everyone in the food court was looking at us. Not wanting to draw any more attention to myself than I already had, I told him I was okay. I hoped that would be the end of it and he'd just walk away.

I could tell he was as embarrassed as I was. He hadn't meant for me to react the way I had. He told me again how sorry he was. I'd never given anyone a brush-off in my life and didn't know how to do it. I smiled at him without saying anything. I hoped he would take it as a hint and leave. Instead of leaving, he held out his hand.

"I'm Bob Eiger," he said with his hand grasping the air.

Not know what else to do, I took his hand and shook. "Michelle," I said.

Bob took my handshake as an invitation to have a seat. I wanted to run but held my ground. I'd already made a scene once today and I wasn't about to do it again.

"Do I know you," he asked? "I'm a sophomore at the University of Hartford. Are you in a sorority there? I'm a Pike."

"No. I'm not in school."

"You look kind of young to have graduated already."

"I didn't. I'm just not in school right now."

Sensing that he'd made another mistake, Bob apologized again.

I was starting to feel bad for him and good for myself at the same time. This guy had mistaken me for a college girl. He was obviously flirting with me so he must think I'm pretty. I smiled at him, which was something I probably shouldn't have done, because it only served to encourage him.

It quickly occurred to me that he wasn't going to stop talking on his own and I wasn't going to get away from him unless I found a way to shut him off. But I let him keep talking and sometimes I'd say something that would change the conversation and that would keep him talking. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was kind of enjoying the attention.

I grimaced as I saw my mother making her way over to our table. She had spotted me with a boy. What was she going to think? This isn't my fault, I thought as I stuttered out an excuse to leave.

"My mom's here. I got to go," I said as I stood up from the table.

Bob asked if he could have my number. Had my mother heard him ask? Of course she had! She was standing right next to me.

"My mom won't let me date," I said quickly. "I'm only 13."

The look on his face said it all. He was horrified. He turned to my mother and apologized. "I didn't know how old she was. Honest!"

"Its okay," said my mother. "Michelle was just teasing you. But she does have to go now. Goodbye."

"I have to go too," said Bob as he got up from the table and scurried off into the crowded mall.

Mom giggled as Bob disappeared into the crowd. I, on the other hand, was close to tears. How could I have let my mother catch me talking to a boy like that? Gross!

He was kind of cute," said my mother as we walked toward the exit. "What's his name?"

"Bob," I said disgustedly.

"He seemed quite taken by you."

"Mom!"

"Its nothing to be ashamed of honey. You're a very attractive girl and you're going to get a lot of attention from boys when they see you."

"I'm not a girl. I'm just dressed like one."

Sensing my pain, Mom thought it best to walk the rest of the way to the car in silence.

After getting in the car, I strapped on my seat belt and stared out the window while Mom backed us out of the parking spot.

"Can we talk?" asked my mom as she pulled out of the lot and on to the main drive.

"About what?"

"About Bob and boys in general," said my mother.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. I'll talk and you just sit there and listen."

I closed my eyes and sighed while shaking my head.

"I know you're upset and embarrassed now," said my mother. "But I saw your face when you were talking to him- before you saw me. You looked like you were having quite a good time. As a matter of fact, I think you were taken with him."

I told her I wasn't going to talk but I couldn't let her words pass without at least offering up an argument. "I'm not gay Mom."

"Of course not Michelle. You're a girl. And Bob is a boy. Girls like boys and boys like girls. Its not gay. Its the most natural thing in the world and you shouldn't be ashamed of your feelings."

The things she was saying made me sick to my stomach. But keep in mind I hadn't talked to a therapist yet, so I was very confused and tormented by my sexuality- whatever it was.

"I don't want to like boys," I said.

"Neither did I when I was your age, but I did and I do and from where I was standing , it looks like you do too, and there's nothing wrong with it Michelle. Its perfectly normal and natural for girls to like boys."

"But I'm a boy Mom."

"Trust me Michelle. You're no more of a boy than I am. And the sooner you stop kidding yourself about it, the happier you'll be."

"What are you talking about? How can you say that. You know I'm a boy!"

"I know you were born with a penis, but so were a lot of girls I read about. Don't you get it Michelle? You're transgendered. That's why you want to dress in women's clothes. And that's why you were flirting with that boy before I walked up."

"I wasn't flirting with him."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this Michelle. I know what I saw and I know what I know and so do you. The last thing I'm going to say about this for now is that its okay if you want to date boys. As a matter of fact, I think you should. I just want you to be safe about it."

"Safe?"

"Yes honey. Safe as in safe sex. Sooner or later you're going to find a boy that you like and you're going to want him to make love to you, and when that time comes you're going to need to practice safe sex- you know, with a condom. You do know about condoms, don't you?"

I turned away and looked out the window. "Yes Mom. We learned about it in school. By the way, I bought a bra at Victoria's Secret today."

We talked about my bra and the mall and the salon for the rest of trip home, but while we were talking about those things, I was thinking about boys and what my mom said about it being okay if I wanted to start dating them. Me- dating a boy. Me- being some boy's girlfriend. Me- having a boyfriend. I was simultaneously grossed out and excited by the idea of dating boys. It was the excited part that worried me.

---

 
To Be Continued...

14 year old Mike wears his mother's wedding dress for the first time and they discuss his future. Does he want to be a cross dresser or a woman like his mother?   Mike versus Michelle: Part 5 My Mother's Wedding Dress By Sharon Parsons

---

 
Christmas came and went without any grand occurrence, meaning my mother didn't give me a dress to open up in front of Dad and Tony. For that, I was very grateful.

Ever since my first public outing as a girl, my mother had stepped up the pressure for me to be more open about my femininity. She tried to convince me that Dad and Tony would understand. And if that were the case, there would be no need for me to hide out in my room. I could be her daughter at home.

I was adamant about my secret not extending past the two of us, but I was becoming more and more like a daughter to her in ways which had nothing to do with the clothes on my back.

Mom and I began spending more and more time together around the house. I was helping her with the chores she used to do her self, like cooking and cleaning. Tony thought nothing of it and Dad just thought I was being helpful.

We continued leaving the house as mother and daughter whenever we got the chance, which wasn't very often, but it did happen. There was one day when we had the opportunity to go out but we stayed at home instead. That was the day my mother showed me her wedding gown and asked if I'd like to try it on.

I must have known she had a wedding gown but I'd never seen it before, except in pictures. It had been vacuum packed and stowed away for sixteen years. If I had known where to look for it, I would have thought about trying it on every day. Of course I never would have taken it out of its package.

"Your wedding dress," I asked? "You're going to let me wear it?"

"If you want?"

"Oh Mom. Please! I'd love too! Are you sure its okay. I don't want to hurt it."

Mom looked at me lovingly and nodded. "The dress will be fine honey. I'm more concerned about you. I know I've been a little pushy lately, you know, about having you be more ladylike, so that I could feel like I had a daughter. I've been a little selfish that way and I know there's still a part of you that isn't sure what it is you really want. I'm just saying its okay if you'd rather not or if you think it would make you feel uncomfortable."

"Are you kidding? I've never wanted to do anything so much in my life. Please Mom! Let me wear your wedding dress. I'll be careful. I promise."

"Okay honey," said Mom as she broke the seal on the vacuum pack. The dress that had seemed so flat only moments earlier, began to expand and take shape within the confines of the plastic bag.

After putting on my breast forms and stepping into a slip, Mom helped me get into her dress. I don't know how to describe it, other than to say it was white and billowy. Mom said the fabric was called peau satin. There was a train but my mom didn't think it was worth fooling with.

Mom began to cry once she got the head piece in place. I cried too when I turned around and saw myself in the mirror.

"You look just like me when I married your father," she said while wiping at her eyes. "You're such a beautiful bride Michelle.

Me? A beautiful bride? Indeed! "I love it so much Mom," I said as I hugged her. "Thank you for letting me wear it. Should I take it off now?"

"Not yet Michelle. I was thinking we could have a cup of coffee and talk."

"But what about the dress? I don't want to spill anything on it."

"You won't. I'm sure you'll be careful."

We went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table, since Mom decided the dress would probably be safer with me sitting there than on the couch. She retrieved her wedding photo album from the living room and set it on the table in front of me to look at while she made some coffee.

I opened the cover and looked at the first picture of my mother standing beside my father. They both looked so young and happy. The dress looked gorgeous on her.

Mom sat down beside me and lit a cigarette. "I can't believe how much we look a like," she said.

"Do you really think so?"

"Of course I do. Don't you?"

"I want to," I said as I took a sip of coffee. "I want to be just like you. I always have."

"I know. You've told me. Its just hard for me to believe it sometimes."

"How come," I asked?

"Because you're my son. I gave birth to you. Its not an easy thing for me to explain, but its like we're sitting here now and you look so beautiful wearing my dress. I always thought you'd get married some day, but I thought it would be in a tux. And now...I don't know what to think."

"Me neither Mom. But I know I like the way I feel right now. It feels great."

Mom took a puff from her cigarette and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She smiled at me and asked if I'd let her take some pictures of me in the dress. I told her I'd like that very much and I asked if she'd put on something nice so we have our picture taken together, like the one in the photo album of her and my grandmother.

"But how will we take the picture," asked my mother? "Do you know how use the self timer?"

I'd never used it before but I told her I thought I could work it.

"Okay," said my mother. "Do you want to go upstairs and help me pick out something to wear?"

 

***
 

Mom chose a light gray dress with a matching jacket. It was so classic looking. If I wasn't already wearing a wedding a dress, I would have begged to try it on my self.

We went downstairs and found the camera in the kitchen. Mom suggested that we take the pictures in the back yard. She took about about ten pictures of me in different poses in front of a tree before we tried to set the camera up to take a picture of us together.

We were both disappointed when I couldn't figure out how to put it in self portrait mode. Even if I had been able to figure it out, we didn't have a tripod, so it would have been impossible to get a good shot.

We were just about to give up when I said I wished we could get someone to take a picture of us.

"Even though they'd see you in my dress," asked Mom?

The significance of her question and my pending answer weighed heavily on my mind as I opened my mouth to speak as I ran my hands over my breasts and down my mother's wedding dress.

"I wasn't sure until now, but now I am. This is what I want Mom. I want to get married in your dress for real some day."

Mom looked both delighted and shocked. "To a man," she asked? "Do you want to get married to a man?"

Her question floored me, even though it shouldn't have. After all, it was such an easy question. My answer should have been obvious, at least to my self, but it wasn't.

"I don't know. I think so. Maybe...Yes! I do Mom. I want to get married to a man and be his wife the way you and Dad are married."

"Oh Michelle," said my mother. "I think that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you and I'm sure you'll make a beautiful bride and a wonderful wife some day."

My mother hugged me and then she held me and rocked me to and fro as she whispered her love for me. "Do you really want to get someone to take a picture of us together, even though they'd see you like this?"

"I think I should. If this is what I'm going to do, then I can't hide it forever."

"Did you have someone in mind," asked my mother. "We could always go to a studio and have a professional do it. That would be a start."

"No it wouldn't, because the photographer wouldn't know who I really am, and I think it should be someone we both know. I was thinking that maybe we could ask Mrs. Holsteader."

"Dana? Why Dana?"

"Because I like her and she's your friend and you know how much I like hanging out with you and your friends."

Mom smiled knowingly. "I think I understand honey. You want to be one of the girls, don't you?"

I nodded my head and wiped a tear from eye. "More than anything Mom."

"My friends are all so much older though. You wouldn't have anything in common with them. They're all married and have kids. I'm not saying we couldn't include you, but don't you think you'd be uncomfortable?"

"Not really," I said. "Maybe a little at first, but a lot of that would be because I think it would probably be weirder for them than it would be for me. I've been thinking about stuff like this forever Mom. That's how I know I want to do it."

"Maybe we should talk about this for a while," said my mother as she took me by the hand and led me back into the house.

"But why? I thought you wanted me to be a girl."

"I do," said my mother. "And I wouldn't say that unless I knew that you wanted as much or more than I do."

"I do want it Mom. I want to be just like you. I swear I do. Its what I've always wanted. Even when I was a little kid, I used to play with your clothes and things and pretend I was you. Its like what you said that first time you caught me, about how you used to feel the same way about wanting to be like your mother."

"I know honey. Its every little girl's dream to be like her mother. And believe me sweetheart, its the dream of every mother to see her little girl grow into a happy woman."

"Then what do we need to talk about if we both feel the same way," I asked nervously.

"I just think we should talk things over between ourselves before we let Dana in on it. I know you're a hurry to start your new life as a woman, but it might be more complicated than you think."

"What do you mean?" I asked as I sat down at the kitchen table.

"Okay. Well the first thing that comes to mind is hormone therapy. You're pretty now and you don't have any problem passing as a girl, but it won't be that easy if you keep growing up the way you were meant to- like a man. Your voice will get deeper and your skin will get tougher. What I'm trying to say is that without female hormone therapy, you'll grow up to look like a man wearing a dress."

I knew what she was talking about because I'd read about hormones on the internet. I just hadn't thought about as seriously as my mother had, but I realized she was right.

"If you're sure about this, we'll need to see a doctor. You can't get hormones without a prescription. He'll probably want you to see some kind of gender therapist too. You know. To be sure this is something you really want and need."

"But what if the therapist doesn't like me and thinks I should be a boy?"

Mom lit a cigarette and grinned. "That's not going to happen baby, so don't you even worry about it. Once the therapist sees and and talks to you, she'll know that becoming a woman is the best thing for you."

"What about Dad," I asked? "And what about school? My friends are going to find out, aren't they?"

"Those are all important things and you'll have to deal with each of them and a whole lot more. It won't be easy, and it shouldn't be. Becoming a woman has to be the most important thing to you in the world. Nothing else can matter. And if you can't say that, then you should just keep doing things the way you're doing them now."

"There's nothing wrong with being a cross-dresser honey. A lot of men think of it as being a part time woman. They say its the best of both worlds because they don't have to give up any thing."

I told my mother that I didn't want to do it part time and that I'd tell Dad and anyone else I had to tell.

"In that case, you'll need to start living as a woman every day. That means from the time you wake up until the time you go to sleep and every minute in between."

I told her that that was what I wanted.

"What about school? If you take a lot of teasing over your hair and earrings now, it will only get worse if you start wearing dresses."

"I don't want to go to school any more. I hate it."

"Then I'll have to home school you so that you can earn your G.E.D."

"Okay," I said firmly. "That sounds real good to me."

"It sounds good to me too," said my mother as she placed her hand on top of mine. "I think it will be nice getting to spend more time with you."

"Do you think Dad will be mad when we tell him," I asked?

"I wouldn't say he'll be mad, but it will definitely bother him. He doesn't know you the way I do. As a matter of fact, he thinks of you and Tony as chips off the old block."

"I'm not like him," I said. "I'm like you."

"I know you are darling," she said as she kissed me on the cheek. "And I'd be lying if I didn't tell you how happy it makes me feel when you say things like that."

"Good, because its true," I said. "And it feels good being able to say it to you. I've wanted to tell you that all my life but I was afraid you'd think I was a sissy."

"It must have been awful for you, having to hide your femininity from me all those years. I suppose you're pretty relieved to be able to talk about it now."

I nodded without speaking because I was afraid I'd get choked up.

"Its been hard for me too," she said. "I've thought and wondered about it for so long, but I was afraid to ask, because I didn't want to embarrass you. And if you did feel the way I thought you might, I didn't want to scare you away by saying something too soon."

"So what you're saying is that we shouldn't be afraid to talk to each other now about anything?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," said my mother as she finished off her cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. "Is something bothering you that you want to talk about?"

"Kind of," I said as I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

"Then say what's on your mind. I want you too."

"And you won't get mad at me."

"Think about it this way. I might not like what you have to say. And it may be that I won't want you to do whatever it is you're doing or thinking about doing. But I promise I won't get mad if you tell me what it is. All we can do is talk about it and see what happens from there."

"Okay. Well in that case, I wanted to know how old you were when you started smoking."

"What?" The question surprised and confused her more than it upset her. How could she be upset. It was just a normal question. She had braced her self for a question about sex or body parts, but this?

I was embarrassed by my mother's response and was immediately sorry that I'd brought it up. What was I thinking? Why had I even tried? There was no way she would understand. And it was even sillier to think she'd wind up giving me her permission to start. No good can come from this, I thought.

"Nothing Mom. Lets just forget it."

"No. We're not going to forget it. You asked me something and we need to talk about it because its important to you. Are you trying to tell me it bothers you that I smoke?"

"Oh no Mom. Nothing like that. I was just wanting to know how old you were when you started. That's all. Its okay if you don't want to tell me."

"Why would I not want to tell you? I think I was probably 12 or 13, but I didn't start smoking in front of my parents until after I finished high school. Why did you want to know?"

"No reason. Just curious. That's all. Thanks for telling me."

"I hope this isn't your way of telling me that you've started smoking. You haven't, have you?"

"No."

"Does this have anything to do with your wanting to be like me? Do you want to smoke because I smoke?"

The heat from my shame rose up. How did she know what I was thinking? I wondered if I should tell her the truth. I was afraid to, but seeing as how this was the closest I'd ever gotten to really talking to my mom about smoking, I knew I'd hate myself for ever if I didn't try to finish it.

"Yes," I said.

"Oh honey. Noooo. That's such a bad idea. I don't want you to smoke like me. Its so bad. Please don't ever start!"

I felt as if I'd just been rejected by my one true love. Sensing my pain, I watched as my mother's hand came down softly on mine.

"Why do you want to smoke honey?

Right or wrong. For better or worse. I told her everything and I told it with passion. I watched her face screw up as I described how beautiful and womanly she looked when she smoked. I told her about playing with her cigarettes and pretending to smoke like her. I told her everything from start to finish about my wanting to smoke like a woman. And when I was done talking, we sat together in silence while she considered her response.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart. I had no idea you felt this way. I'm not even sure if I can understand everything you said, but apparently this is really important to you. Isn't it?"

I nodded painfully.

"I think I know how you feel to a degree," she said, "because I can remember wanting to smoke like my mom when I was a little girl. But some of the things you said are so intense, so maybe I can't really comprehend them since I've always been female. But are you telling me that you would feel better about yourself as a woman if I allowed you to start smoking?"

"I know it sounds weird, but thats exactly what I'm saying."

"If its so important to you, then why haven't you started before now? Why are you just asking about me it?"

"Because of a lot of reasons...like for starters, I didn't want to get in trouble and have you hate me for it. I know you've always told me never to do it and I didn't want to make you mad. And the other thing is I'm afraid I won't do it right and I want to look the right way if I do it."

"LIke a woman," asked my mother?

"Yes."

"I see," said my mother as she laughed nervously. "I suppose you're right about there being a difference between a lady and a man when it comes to how they smoke. Its just that I've never put as much thought into it as you apparently have."

I watched her carefully as she ran her finger across the pack of Virginia Slims sitting on the table.

"Have you always smoked that kind," I asked?

"Virginia Slims?"

I nodded.

"Yes," she said. "Its the same brand your grandmother smoked when I was a little girl. I thought they looked so feminine and ladylike."

"They are," I said.

"I don't know what to tell you," said my mother, "other than to tell you that I really don't want you to smoke. I know it looks good to you now because I felt the same way when I was your age. But its a lot different once you've been smoking for a while. Dana and I talk about it all the time. Both of us wish we never started and we're always talking about how we hope you and Cam never start."

I felt as if I'd just been kicked in the gut.

"I guess that really wasn't much of an answer, was it," she asked?

I looked at her hopefully. "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I can't stop you from smoking if your heart is really set on it, but I want you to think about it before you do anything. Do you understand what I'm asking? I want you to really think about it. And if its still as important as you think it is, then I'll talk to your father about giving you our permission."

All the blood in my body seemed to rush into my head and I suddenly felt woozie. "Really," I asked?

"Yes, but you have to promise me that you'll really think hard about it."

"I will Mom. I promise. I'll think about it tonight."

"And tomorrow too. There's no reason to rush in to this. You have your whole life to smoke so you don't have to start tomorrow."

"But I can if thats what I want to do?"

"Yes, but we'll have to talk to your dad first because I don't want you sneaking behind his back or mine. Is that clear?"

"Real clear," I said. "But what about telling him the other stuff, you know, about me getting home schooled and being a woman."

"I'll talk to him tonight and I'll let you know how it goes. But regardless of you're father, we need to make an appointment for you to see a gender therapist."

---

 
To Be Continued...

Michelle's Mom breaks the news to Michelle's father. Michelle visits her family doctor who is not supportive of her cause. Ouch!  Mike versus Michelle: Part 6 Bad Medicine By Sharon Parsons

---

 

I was very troubled after I changed out of my mother's wedding dress and into my regular clothes. The phrase, "For better or worse", flashed through my mind like a neon sign. I'd spilled my guts to my mother. Of course I'd done that before, but I had gone farther this time and the stakes were higher now.

I had asked my mother for permission to smoke and had committed myself to becoming a woman. I was playing for keeps now. Mom had promised to talk to my father about it that night. She was going to tell him about me. What would she say and how would she say it?

I suddenly felt sorry for my father. He was a good man and he didn't deserve the pain my mother was about to heap on him. And what about me? Whether I liked it or not, my life was going to change drastically. Even if I never wore a dress or smoked a cigarette in front of my father for the rest of his life, he'd know the truth about me.

I understood my father's opinion of me would change forever once my mother talked to him. I felt so bad for him because I felt his shame.

And what would become of me after my mother talked to my father? I never questioned my mother's ability to get her way with my father, as she was the ultimate decision maker in our house.

My mother was respectful of my father and his feelings, but I knew she wouldn't let him or anyone else stand in the way of what she thought was best for me. Like it or not, the shit was about to hit the fan and this thing was going to happen.

I wanted it to happen. But I was also afraid for it happen. I was so tempted to slam on the breaks. All I had to do was ask my mother to sit on it. She'd do that for me. Wouldn't she? Maybe that's why she gave me the Ambien, to help me sleep, so that I couldn't get in the way of her doing the right thing for me.

I would have worried about it all night or maybe even done something to stop my mother from talking to my father, if I hadn't fallen asleep. It was the last thing I thought about before I passed out and the first thing I thought about when I woke up the next morning.

I got out of bed and prepared for school, even though I knew in my heart that I probably wouldn't be going that day. After taking my shower, I threw on some clothes and tied my damp hair into a ponytail.

Tony's bus comes earlier than mine, so he was having breakfast with dad, who was noticeably underdressed for work. Mom asked how I'd slept and offered me a cup of coffee.

I told my mom that the Ambien had really worked as I absorbed the tension in the air. Tony of course, was oblivious to it. It was just another school day for him. As far as he was concerned, his family would be the same- unchanged, after he got home from school.

As I took a sip of coffee, I found myself wishing that I could take another Ambien and sleep through the pain that would come once Tony left for for the bus stop.

I knew what was coming. Dad would stay home from work today to see if he could talk some sense into me. He'd ask me why? What would I tell him? How would I answer him? I was scared, even though I knew my mom would be there to protect me.

I had to be careful. He'd be looking for chinks in my armor. I had to be strong like my mother. I couldn't afford to bare my doubts or concerns to either of them.

Doubts and concerns? For lack of better words. I didn't know what to call them. I just knew I wasn't exactly the girl my mother thought I was. But at the same time, I sure as hell wasn't the kind of boy that my father had thought I was before my mother ripped his heart out.

I watched as Tony hugged our mom and shook our father's hand like the little man that he was. I'd always shaken my father's hand in the past. What would I do tomorrow? Kiss him on the cheek? I hated myself for being whatever it was that was, and I hated myself for what I was doing to my father. I wanted an Ambien. I wanted two, or three or maybe even four of them.

Tony waved goodbye to me as the door closed behind him. I was alone with my mother and father.

"We need to talk," said my father.

"I know Dad."

*****

I'll spare you from the blow by blow details. It was a gory emotional battle that lasted more than three hours and ended with my father leaving the house to get some air.

Mom sat on the couch and tried to console me. Dad had done his utmost best to talk me out of becoming a woman. He used all the emotional tools at his disposal. But in the end, I stood my ground beside Mom.

With Mom's help, I had won the battle, but there would be no celebration that day. There was strategizing however.

Mom said that it was important to follow through with the plans we had discussed the day before. She said things would become more difficult and complicated if we put them off for later. She explained the game plan to me.

The only thing I needed to do was to change into a dress and put my make-up on. It was up to her to make medical and counseling appointments for me. She was also going to call my school and arrange for me to be home schooled.

When my father and brother got back home, they'd see me in a dress with make-up on my face.

My mother told me that she wanted me to look nice. As a matter of fact, she said it was very important for me to look nice while Dad and Tony were getting used to the situation.

It's important to note that my mother gave me the opportunity to back out. She never forced me to do anything against my will.

I said my mother had a game plan but there was nothing game-like about it. She made certain that I understood the serious nature of what I was about to do.

"There are some things you can't take back once you do them," she said. And then we talked about those things.

We talked about the female hormones and what they'd do to my body. We talked about how my decision to get a G.E.D. instead of a high school diploma would affect my future. We talked about what people would think and say about me as I transitioned into a woman. We talked about how it would affect my future relationships with men and women once I started dating.

"Are you sure you want to do this," she asked?

I knew what I wanted even if I wasn't sure that I wanted it for the right reasons. I didn't tell her that because as I said earlier, I couldn't afford to show any doubts or concerns.

"I want to be a woman Mom. I want to be like you."

She hugged me and told me how proud she was of me. If she was proud, why was I so ashamed? I went upstairs to change while she made the phone calls.

*****

I was sitting on my bed all dressed up with no place to go when my mother told me she had called the school and had made an appointment with our family doctor for that morning.

She looked around my room and said it didn't look like a girl lived there. I agreed with her, the sports trophies and posters looked very out of place for Michelle's room, but they suited Mike just fine.

"We can't do everything at once, but we'll work on it," said my mother.

She sat down on my bed and we discussed some ideas for "Michelle's" new room. As far as life changes are concerned, room decor is rather trivial, but my mother explained the symbolic importance of it.

"Every thing is important from now on," she said. "You have to walk the walk and talk the talk. Being a woman, especially in your case, is a state of mind."

I thought about what my mother said about womanhood being a state of mind and accepted it with great ease, because that's how I'd always felt about my femininity. It was never physical for me. It had always been a state of mind. I had been chasing that state of mind ever since I was a little boy and had snuck into my parent's room to play with my mother's clothes.

****

Dr. Limpke had been my doctor since I was a toddler. He wasn't a pediatrician so he didn't have a bubbly personality, but he was a straight shooter and didn't pull any punches. A boy in a dress is an easy target for a man like him. He pummeled me with his words and looks.

I didn't like him then and I don't like him now, but I am thankful to him for prescribing the hormones and blockers for me.

The son of a bitch was holier and than thou. He looked at me as if I was a piece of perverted trash while my mother explained the reason for our visit. I hated the way he shook his head as he listened. He might as well have been shaking his finger at me.

I listened as Dr. Limpke told my mother about an estrogen pill called Estrace and an anti-androgen called Aldactone. He said that after six weeks I'd begin to see female development in my breasts and after two months, the damage to my reproductive abilities would be irreversible.

He called me Mike instead of Michelle and told me that I'd never be able to father children if I took the medication. His tone of voice was more demeaning than informative and caring. It was like my mother had said, a person's perception of me had changed.

Dr. Limpke explained the possible side effects that are associated with Estrace. My mother's expression changed when she heard him say that smoking might contribute to blood clots.

My heart fell as my mother pressed Dr. Limpke to go into more detail about the dangers of smoking and blood clots.

He said he'd never had a patient who had experienced any major problems from it but to stay on the safe side, he always prescribed a lower dosage to his patients that smoked.

Knowing my mother was a smoker, he assumed she must have asked the question because she was considering taking the medication her self for menopause. I know this because he asked her if she was getting hot flashes.

Mom told him that she was fine and wasn't having any problems, but she had asked about the smoking because she was concerned about me.

Dr. Limpke looked at me as if I was a complete idiot. And then he called me Mike and asked me if I smoked.

The condemnation in his voice made me shrink. I couldn't answer him and I hated myself for not being strong like my mother. The shame was just too much for me to bare.

My mother answered for me, but she didn't come to my rescue. "Michelle doesn't smoke Dr. Limpke, but she's talked about wanting to start."

Dr. Limpke took that as his cue to lecture me for the next ten minutes. He asked me questions about did I know this or that about what smoking does. He showed me pictures of diseased lungs that turned my stomach.

I listened to every thing he said while my mother nodded knowingly from her chair in the corner.

I did know this and I did know that. I'd heard it all before, but I listened to every word he said while I prayed for his tirade to end. I wasn't strong enough to tell him why I wanted to smoke. How would that have sounded to a man like Dr. Limpke?

But Dr. Limpke! Don't you understand? I'm a little sissy boy and I want to smoke like a woman.

I couldn't tell him that so I just sat there and absorbed his verbal beating while my mom sat by and watched.

Dr. Limpke scribbled out a prescription for my mother and wrote the name of a gender therapist on another of paper, which he handed to her.

He stood up and looked down at me disapprovingly as he wished me luck.

Knowing that I was about to break down and cry, I told my mom that I was going to wait in the car while she paid the bill. She told me she'd hurry.

I was sobbing as she got into the car.

The first thing she said when she got into the car was that she was sorry Dr. Limpke was so hard on me. She said this while lighting a cigarette for her self.

At the time, I thought she was the biggest hypocrite in the world for smoking a cigarette so soon after my emotional castration. But now I know she did it because she is an addict. However, this is now and that was then, and back then I wasn't in an understanding or forgiving mood. I felt as if though she had betrayed me by taking me to that bastard and unleashing him on me.

She apologized for Dr. Limpke, but she didn't apologize for her self. My mother had her reasons for leading me to slaughter and she explained them as we drove to the drug store to get my prescription filled.

"I know he was rude but he was right to be hard on you Michelle. You're only fourteen and you're dealing with two of the most important decisions that you'll ever have to make in your life. I just want to be sure you put some thought into them. And just so you know, your father feels the same way that I do."

I could have agreed with her or I could have argued with her. I could have thanked her or I could have told her to go to hell. Instead of doing any of those things, I told her that I was almost 15. As if a month made any difference! I knew how stupid it sounded when I said it. I looked out the window and stared at the side of the road.

Mom told me to fix my make-up because I'd messed it up by crying. After everything Dr. Limpke had said to me, I felt stupid and worthless as I used the mirror in the sun visor to repair the damage, but I couldn't fix it. I looked like total shit and that made me even more angry and upset.

I told my mother that I didn't want to go to the drug store. I told her that I just wanted to go home.

My mother didn't argue with me. She just said okay and drove.

As soon as we got home, I ran up the stairs to my room and slammed the door shut. I fell down on my bed and cried in my pillow.

***

About an hour or so after I laid down, I heard my mother knock on the door, only it wasn't my mother. It was my father. He asked if he could come in.

I didn't want to talk to him, at least not then, but at the same time I couldn't say no. I told him to come in as I sat up on the bed and wiped the ruined mascara from my eyes.

He sat down beside me on the bed.

"I talked to your mother so I know the two of you are going through a spat. She says you're pretty mad at her right now because of the way Dr. Limpke talked to you. I don't want to get between you and your mother, but just so you know, she really went to bat for you last night on the cigarettes. She tried to explain it but it sounded like a woman thing to me. And judging from what she said downstairs, I take it that Dr. Limpke gave you quite a lecture about the dangers."

"He thinks I'm stupid".

"He doesn't think you're stupid. He just thinks your making a mistake."

"Is that what you think too."

"Not at all, but to tell you the truth, this whole thing is beyond me because I'm not a woman and I'm not a smoker, so I can't pretend to understand what you're going through. But your mother can. That's why she wants you to think hard before you make the same mistake she did."

"Did she tell you to say that to me?"

"No. I'm just saying it because I think the two of you need each other more than ever right now. Your mother is a wonderful person and I can't think of a better role model for you. I'd be very proud if you turned out to be just like her."

"Even if I started smoking like her?"

"Are you absolutely positive that you want to start?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my whole life Dad."

"In that case, I'd be disappointed if you didn't follow your heart."

I hugged him, which was kind of unusual, because up until then we'd always shook hands. The other unusual thing that I did, but seemed right, was to call him Daddy when I thanked him.

Dad broke our embrace and asked if I wanted to get cleaned up.

"For what," I asked?

"For Tony. Don't you want to fix your make-up before he gets home from school?"

"Thanks Daddy. I'll do that."

Dad stood up from the bed and nodded. "That's good, and then afterwards, maybe you should come downstairs and talk to your mother. She's really worried about you."

---

 
To Be Continued...

Michelle's first day after dealing with Dr. Limpke and presenting herself as woman to her father and brother.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 7 Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Holsteader By Sharon Parsons

---

 
The day that had begun so horribly ended on a high note when my father gave me permission to become the woman I had always dreamed of becoming. Technically speaking, I could have done it without his approval, but his support made it so much easier. However, support and understanding are two different things. My father supported my efforts to become a woman, but he didn't understand them.

I wouldn't call my father a homophobe, but he has a difficult time accepting that my husband and I are more than just friends. It's possible that I'm being unfair. Perhaps he'd be just as uncomfortable about sex if I'd been born a real female. The one thing that is for certain is that our relationship evolved as I became more womanly. It has always been loving, but it had definitely become more awkward.

Its safe to say that all my pre-Michelle relationships changed. You can't do what I did and have people think, oh well, its still the same old Mike. He's just wearing a dress! It doesn't work that way. And that's a good thing, because I sure as heck wouldn't have gone through the effort for that kind of result.

My evolution from Mike to Michelle caused a lot of confusion and some hostility with the people who had always known me as Mike. I could handle the confusion, but the hostility tugged at my heart.

My brother Tony was confused about the change. When he left for the school the other morning, I was just his long haired older brother. When he got home, he found a woman in my place. He was six years old when he met me as Michelle.

He asked our mom who the pretty girl was. Mom told him who I was. He didn't believe it until I spoke to him. Tony wasn't angry. He just wanted to know why and how it happened so that he could prevent it from happening to himself. To Tony, being female was a disease, unless of course you were his mom.

Mom and I had less than five minutes to make up before Tony got home from school. Perhaps Dad had tipped her off while I was redoing my make-up. Or maybe she could just tell by the look on my face that I wasn't angry any more. The final clue was when I hugged her and told her how sorry I was for acting like a jerk.
 

***
 
That afternoon was special because it was the first time my family had seen me dressed as a woman. I wasn't a woman to Dad and Tony at that point. I'm pretty sure they felt as I was wearing a costume. Much of the blame for that fell on me because I wasn't presenting myself as a woman.

Having Dad and Tony see me for the first time was liberating and necessary, but it was nothing like when I dressed for my mom the first time. I needed my mother's approval and acceptance more than I needed Dad's and Tony's.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that my first time dressed in front of my family wasn't happy-go-lucky. It felt a lot like I had been caught doing something I shouldn't have been doing. I felt a lot like I had betrayed Dad and Tony by switching teams.

Mom and Dad attempted to make the best out of an uncomfortable situation. Its amusing now, but it was anything but amusing when it happened. I was the 800 pound elephant in the room, and they were doing their best to pretend that nothing drastic had changed. I was still their child and they loved me unconditionally. Even now, I couldn't expect them to behave any differently than they did that first day.

I also remember that day as the day I began speaking openly in front of my parents. My mother and I didn't have as many secrets to keep after I showed myself off to Dad and Tony.

Mom and I talked about the hormone prescription and the smoking without fear of Dad and Tony overhearing our conversation. I felt like I was farting in the room but wasn't trying to hide it. I was still embarrassed about it, but there wasn't any need to hide.

Mom wanted to know what I wanted to do about it. She offered to go to the drugstore before it closed and pick up dinner on the way home. She offered me a pack of cigarettes in front of Dad and Tony. I said no to both of her offers. I told her I'd rather wait until the next day when we could take our time.

I wanted those two things to be special and I wanted to share them with my mother and nobody else. She understood that.

I went to bed that night wearing my favorite long silk nightgown. I didn't lock my door that night and I remember feeling very relieved about that. "Relieved" is the word that best describes how I felt about that day.

I wasn't happy. I was relieved. I was still burdened with the idea that I was doing things I shouldn't be doing. I was relieved because even though I had no business doing the things I was doing, I had my parent's blessing to do them.

I wasn't a boy who had blossomed into a young woman that day. My life hadn't become a fairy-tale projected in technicolor. I didn't feel like Cinderella or any of the other Disney princesses. My wanting to be a woman was more like the monster in a closet that is suddenly discovered to be real. That monster's name is Sissy-Pervert.

I laid in my bed and looked at the trophies I had won for running faster and hitting harder than anyone else on the team. I had enjoyed playing those games. More importantly, I had enjoyed being a boy.

That night would have been cause for celebration if I had truly felt worthy and in need of the great prize that had been bestowed on me. The truth of the matter was that I didn't feel as if I deserved to be a woman like my mother. I didn't deserve to dress like her or smoke like her or be anything at all like her. I didn't deserve those things because I lacked the necessary prerequisite. Underneath it all, I wasn't a woman. I was just a sissy-pervert who couldn't help himself from playing with his mother's things and had gotten caught one too many times.

I rarely waste my time wondering if my life would have been better if I had grown into a man. It would not have been better. As a woman, I am an asset to society and I've made the world a better place for my child, and my husband, and even my mother.

Having the opportunity to become a woman was synonymous with having the opportunity to become a full time sissy-pervert without having to hide it.

It sounds like I'm being harsh on myself, but in reality I'm being harsh on Mike. Michelle doesn't deserve the pain, or humiliation, or skepticism that Mike puts her through. Michelle is a beautiful woman both inside and out like her mother. Mike is the filthy beast that resides within her.

I hate Mike, but without him, there could be no Michelle. My therapist jokingly refers to me as Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Holsteader and says I can't be her without being him.

---

 
To Be Continued...

This chapter describes Mike's first day as a "public woman" even though he doesn't leave the house or see anyone other than his mom. Keep in mind, Mike has very troubling issues with his feelings for his mother, his sexuality, and his ideals concerning what is or isn't a real woman.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 8 Just Like Mom? By Sharon Parsons

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This chapter describes Mike's first day as a "public woman" even though he doesn't leave the house or see anyone other than his mom. Keep in mind, Mike has very troubling issues with his feelings for his mother, his sexuality, and his ideals concerning what is or isn't a real woman.

For those readers who are allergic to electronic second hand smoke, be warned that Mike does start smoking in this chapter. If you can get through those couple paragraphs you'll get to the part where Mike's mother realizes that getting a therapist for her son is a priority.

I woke up the next morning as Mike and found myself wearing a long silky nightgown with breast forms glued to my hairless chest.

Memories of the previous day floated past me- tickling, taunting, poking, and teasing.

What had I done? What was I about to do? Was I the luckiest boy in the world or was I the unluckiest?

My dreams seemed to be on the verge of becoming true. Or were they nightmares? Regardless, I was unrepentant. I got out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror and vowed to do something soon about my eyebrows. They weren't bad, but they could be much better- more like my mom's.

My mom. Today was the day I'd take two giant steps toward becoming like her. The excitement was too much for me, so I got back in my bed and played with myself until the excitement decayed into remorse.

Afterwards, I took a shower, knowing the excitement would come back full force as soon as my mother and I broached the subject of my starting to smoke like her.

The hot water felt good on my face and shoulders as I tried in earnest to wash myself away from Mike. I closed my eyes and imagined a future for Michelle, surrounded by the unidentified faces of her future husband and children.

I saw Michelle as a loving wife and mother, teaching her children right from wrong and supporting her husband as he provided for them. I envisioned Michelle at PTA meetings. I saw her sitting in a church with her family.

As the hot water rolled off my back, I saw Michelle looking into the eyes of her husband who is both familiar unrecognizable as he lights her cigarette. He tells Michelle how sexy and beautiful she looks as she exhales toward the ceiling away from his face. I see Michelle's children bickering over something trivial while her husband tells them to quiet down, and they do. I hear Michelle's husband tell her that he loves her.

I turned off the water and stepped onto the bath mat. I have a big day ahead of me. I try to leave Mike behind as I dress to meet my mother.

****

I found Mom downstairs in the kitchen, already dressed and on her third cup of coffee. A cigarette was burning between her fingers. My father and Tony were no where insight. I had woke up late and they had already started their days.

I made chit-chat with her as I poured a cup of coffee for myself and sat down beside her. I could tell by her expression that she was just as nervous as I was.

"Where do we start?" she asked as she ran her finger across the tan and white pack of Virginia Slims that sat in front of her.

I looked down at her cigarettes and then up at her. I could hear my voice tremble as I asked her to teach me how to smoke like her. I could see the pain in her eyes as she pushed the pack and lighter in my direction.

"Are you sure you really want to do this?" she asked as I removed a long white cigarette from the pack.

"I have to," I said. And that was true.

My mother smiled weakly snd said, "I know you do honey. I just hope for both our sakes that we can stop someday, before its too late."

I didn't want to stop because the only thing I could think about was starting, but I kept that thought to myself as Mom gave me some pointers.

"Suck in while I light it. You'll get some smoke in your mouth and it will probably taste terrible. Make sure not to get too much the first couple times you breath in, or it will hurt and make you cough."

I was so nervous and excited and turned on as I followed my mother's instructions. She was right about it tasting terrible. It was so bad that I blew out the first puff without inhaling.

Mom smiled and said it wasn't too late to back out.

I tried again and it was just as terrible but I managed to succeed. Both my pride and penis swelled as I admired the lipstick stained cigarette between my fingers. "I did it Mom! Did you see me? Did I do it right?"

"Yes honey. You did," she said sadly as she took a puff from her own cigarette and exhaled. "Is it like you thought it would be?"

I took another puff, this one was bigger than the one before it. I had to fight to keep from coughing it up. It was painful, but that that didn't keep me from trying it again and again as I talked to my mother.

"It looks so pretty but it tastes so gross and burns!"

"That's just your body trying to talk some sense into your brain. Unfortunately, I can promise that you'll start to enjoy it the longer you do it...and then, there'll come a time when you won't enjoy it any more, but quitting won't be as easy an option as it is today."

I heard what my mother said but I pushed it out of my mind. I was feeling too good about my self to ruin it by thinking reasonably or rationally. "Is it okay if I go look at my self in the mirror?"

"Be my guest," said Mom.

I got up from the table and hurried off to the powder room. I raised the cigarette to my cheek and cocked my wrist in a feminine position. I liked what I saw and followed it up by taking a puff. It was bad and good at the same time, just like me.

This changes everything, I thought as continued smoking in front of the mirror. For the first time in my life I felt important and powerful. I felt alive and oh so feminine!

The cigarette between my finger was spent, so I went back to the kitchen and put it out in the ashtray. "Can I have a pack to put in my purse?"

"My carton is in the cupboard. Help your self," said my mother. "And you'll need a lighter. They're in the drawer where I keep the knives."

I felt larger than life as I put my first pack of female cigarettes into my big female purse. This is what it feels like to be a real woman, I thought as I stared at the top of the pack peeking at me from my open purse.

"Maybe for your birthday, if you're still smoking, we can get you a nice leather cigarette case like mine," said my mother.

"Oh Mom! Can we? That would be so cool!"

She smiled warmly for the first time since my adventure with smoking began. "I'm sorry you're doing this, and I wish you'd change your mind about it, but I can see how happy and excited you are."

"I am Mom. I'm real happy. This is such a dream come true for me to be here with you like this."

"Well I don't want to rain on your parade, but there's a few things we should discuss."

"You mean like rules?"

"I wouldn't exactly call them rules, but they are expectations. Your father and I expect you to be responsible with your cigarettes. No one wants a fire unless its in the fire place."

"I'll be careful."

"You also need to be thoughtful of Tony. He's impressionable. I'm not saying you can't enjoy your habit, but don't do anything that will tempt him to start when he gets older. The same goes with your friends. Do any of them smoke?"

"Cam and Frank? No way."

"Then lets keep it that way. Have you thought about how you're going to tell them about what's going on with you?"

"Not really. I mean I've thought about it, but I haven't really thought of anything."

"I've been thinking about it too and I don't think there's going to be any easy way to do it. I think you should know, there's a good chance you could lose them over this."

"I think I kind of knew that before I did this," I said as I took a cigarette from my mom's open pack and lit it with her lighter. I wondered if I looked more intellectual holding a cigarette. I also wondered what Frank and Cam would think when they saw me smoking. But who I was kidding? Smoking was small potatoes to compared to everything else.

"You know," said my mother as she followed my lead and lit another cigarette for her self, "there's also the possibility that Frank or Cam, or maybe even both of them, might develop a crush on you. Have you stopped to consider that possibility?"

"Gross! Frank and Cam!" No, I hadn't stopped to consider that possibility because I wouldn't have slowed down long enough to think about it in the first place. I told my mom I didn't like boys.

Mom seemed surprised. "But I thought when you were trying on my wedding dress you said you thought about getting married some day- to a man."

I had said that, but for life of me, I wasn't sure why I had said it. "I know I did, but I don't feel like that now."

"So are you saying you like girls? Because if you are, then thats okay too. But if you're going to start taking hormones, you won't be able to be a father."

"I know that mom, but I just don't know what I think. I just know I want to be a woman like you, and do it all the time, and never be a boy again."

"I know you want to be like me, but I'm married to your father, and he's a man. I'm not trying to give you a hard time about this Michelle. I'm just trying to understand you, and for a while I thought I did. But now I'm not so sure."

We sat in silence as we finished our cigarettes, each thinking of what to say next. Like it or not, Mom had touched on a sensitive subject for me- my sexuality. There were things I thought about that I never wanted to admit to anyone- especially my mom and certainly not my Dad.

I wanted to think of myself as a woman, but I didn't want to think of myself as being gay. The truth of the matter was, ever since I put on my mother's wedding dress, I had been thinking about guys more and more often and it just plain bothered me because it didn't seem right. Underneath my dress, I was still a boy.

Finally my mother spoke. "I'm sorry honey. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay. I know you didn't. Its just so weird and gross to think about it, you know, me being with another guy."

"If you really loved the guy, then it wouldn't be weird or gross. If you really loved him, it would be like it is with your father and I."

I was suddenly feeling sick to my stomach and naturally I blamed it on the cigarettes. "I think about it sometimes," I said as I stubbed out my cigarette. "You know, what it would be like to be with a guy and do things with him."

"And does it make you happy when you think about it," asked my mother cautiously.

"I'm not sure, because when I think about it, I pretend I'm like a real woman, because if I was, it wouldn't be like I was gay and I wouldn't be doing anything wrong."

"Would it help if I told you that I don't think there's anything wrong with being gay," asked my mother? "Besides, I know its expensive, but some day you might be able to afford corrective surgery. Would it make a difference in the way you feel if all your body parts were right?"

"It wouldn't matter. The guy would still know that I used to be a guy, so that would make one of us gay. And I don't want to be with a gay guy. I know that sounds like I'm a hypocrite and everything, but that's the way I feel."

"Okay then," said my mother calmly. "Maybe you're a straight girl and you're attracted to straight men. That's actually very normal."

"But I'm not a real girl Mom. Don't you get it? I'll never be a real woman like you no matter what I do. Its always going to be pretend, but it feels good. And that's why I got to keep doing it."

Mom laid her hand on mine and softly said, "Don't take this the wrong way Michelle, but we need to make an appointment for with a therapist that specializes in situations like this."

"But that's not going to change anything," I argued. "I don't want to be a boy. This is what I want," I said as I picked her pack of cigarettes up and held it in the air. "I want to be like you Mom. That's all I've ever wanted. I want to take the hormones so I can have real breasts like yours. I don't want to see a boy when I look in the mirror."

"I know that honey. And I know you need the hormones and we'll go to the drug store now and get them. But you still need to see a therapist."

"But what if I do and she says I shouldn't be a woman."

"I promise you that she won't say that Michelle. Your father and I both know that you need to be a woman. There's just no doubt in our mind about that. And you know it too. You need to see a therapist so she can help you feel good about being a woman. Does that make more sense when I say it like that?"

"It does," I said as I wiped a tear from my eye.

Michelle's mother takes her to see a gender therapist named Dr. Martha Collins. Much is gleaned from their six hour appointment. At last we get down to all those pesky mother issues!   Mike versus Michelle: Part 9 Dr. Martha Collins By Sharon Parsons

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Mom made an appointment for me to see a therapist named Dr. Martha Collins. We eventually hit it off great and I've been seeing her ever since. Oddly enough, even though she specializes in gender issues, she's a regular genetic female. I think she's fantastic and I like her a lot. More importantly, she helped me to like myself.

I'd talked to my friends, Cam and Frank, on the phone shortly after my life switched into high gear. I had missed two days of school and they wanted to know what was up with me. I told them I was sick, because Mom thought it best that we talk to Dr. Martha before coming out to people outside our family. I wasn't looking forward to seeing a therapist, but I was for delaying the confrontation with my friends.

After talking with my mom on the phone, Dr. Martha set aside six hours for us. Mom thought it was extremely kind and generous for her to devote her whole day to my problems. I couldn't imagine spending six hours with any person who had been recommended by Dr. Limpke.

Our session was broken into mini-sessions of one hour each. The first session was mom and I together. The second session was me flying solo with Dr. Martha. And then she went an hour alone with my mom. It was then back to a joint meeting with my mom and I together.

Dr. Martha didn't plan on solving all my problems in one day- and she didn't. She just wanted to get to know me as well as she could and as fast as she could so that she could offer me some immediate relief.

I could probably write a book about my six hour meeting with Dr. Martha Collins, but I won't. Because I see her on a regular basis, I've incorporated her help into my daily life. I'm far from perfect or healed, but I'm much better than when I started seeing her.

This is a difficult chapter in my life to write about because its ground zero for discovering so much about myself. Until I met with Dr. Martha, I thought of myself as some kind of wacked out "Sissy-Pervert". Dr. Martha did her best to focus on the symptoms of my troubles without saddling them with labels.

As I write this, I'm no longer a "Sissy-Pervert". My hateful feelings for myself haven't changed, but I cope with them now instead of allowing them to consume me.

Dr. Martha tried not use labels, but some were unavoidable. She spent the final two hours of our appointment talking to my mother and I together. That's when she shared her diagnosis with us.

Her diagnosis wasn't mind blowing to either of us. She described it as laying out all the broken parts on a table. She told us that none of the broken parts were replaceable and we'd have to our best to fix the pieces that were broken and get by with them. Below is a list of what she said I wad dealing with.

I'm Bipolar with schizoid affective tendencies. Besides dealing with the typical emotional ups and downs, bipolar people have dangerous sexual urges and are predisposed toward gambling and overspending. I had the ups and downs she discussed, but I didn't have problems with gambling or overspending. However, I did recognize the dangerous sexual urges she described.

Bipolar sexual urges can make one spouse cheat on another or cause straight people to engage in homosexual fantasies. I was an unmarried virgin so I couldn't cheat on anyone. But I did have homosexual fantasies about men.

Dr. Martha explained my infatuation with my mother by saying I had an Oedipal complex. She said my infatuation with imitating my mother was a substitute for having sex with her. In other words, since my brain reasons that I can't marry my mother, it provokes me into wanting to become her.

She said my Oedipal complex is what led to my crossdressing and smoking fetishes, because I identify women's clothes and cigarettes as key elements of my mother.

After talking to me about my masturbation habits, Dr. Martha diagnosed my crossdressing and smoking fetishes as a sexual addiction because I can't get or maintain an erection without thinking about dressing and smoking like a woman.

She said it was normal for people to get sexually excited and worked up proceeding an act of sexual taboo and then feel remorse after climaxing. But she said the feelings of excitement and remorse were magnified in me because of the bipolar disorder.

Dr. Martha concluded our appointment by telling us that there was no cure for the ills I was suffering from but that the symptoms could be treated with medication and regular counseling.

I was sitting next to my mother when she asked Dr. Martha if I should forgo the female hormone therapy and go back to living as a male. I was angry when she asked Dr. Martha that question because I felt that after what she said to me at home, her questions was a betrayal of her promise to me.

Dr. Martha said that in her opinion, I would be much better suited to cope with my problems as a woman than a man, and she strongly advised me to begin female hormone therapy.

I was stunned and elated when I heard Dr. Martha say that she thought it would be in my best interest to live my life as a woman. I suddenly felt validated. But I was floored when Dr. Martha told us that we might want to consider breast augmentation in addition to the hormone therapy.

Me with breast implants! Maybe even right away! "Can we?" I asked my mother.

"I don't know honey. We'll see. Maybe. We should really talk to your father about it." She turned to Dr. Martha and asked, "By the way, can you give us a ball park figure on what a total sex change would cost?"

Dr. Martha told us that SRI was in the neighborhood of $25,000 or so.

"That much," said my mother disappointedly.

"Yes," said Dr. Martha. "And unfortunately most insurance companies don't cover the procedure."

She went on to tell us that one of her friends could do the breast augmentation for less than $2,000 if we were interested.

My heart fluttered as my mother took a business card from Dr. Martha and put it in her purse.

"Just so you know," said Dr. Martha. "Most people in Michelle's situation never get full SRI, because of the expense, and the difficulty of finding a doctor who will agree to do the surgery. There's a lot of red tape involved. Oddly enough, many transexuals don't feel the surgery is even necessary for them to lead satisfying and productive lives as women."

"But what about sex," asked my mother?

"The joy of sex takes place in the brain," said Dr. Martha. "Having a penis or a vagina isn't a prerequisite for experiencing love and intimacy."

I listened as my mother and Dr. Martha debated the gender of my potential sex partners.

"So you're saying Michelle is bisexual," asked my mother?

"We're all wired for bisexuality," said Dr. Martha. "Michelle's preferences could lean toward either gender or may be slanted to one sex more than the other. However, Mike's sexual preferences are tainted by a moral objection of homosexuality."

"You're talking about her as if they're two different people," said my mother.

"That's because there are two distinct personalities at play," said Dr. Martha, "and they're at odds with one another. Michelle depression is being fed by the guilt her male side feels."

Dr. Martha went on to say that she could prescribe a medication called Symbyax for me that would help manage my emotional highs and lows. She also said the anti-psychotic portion of the medicine would squelch some delusional feelings I had for my mother.

"Its not emotionally healthy for Michelle to want to be your clone," said Dr. Martha to my mother. "But its perfectly acceptable and even advisable for you to be her role model so that she can be LIKE you."

"And here is where it gets a little sticky," said Dr. Martha before pausing to take a sip of coffee. "As her mother, you can't help but think about Michelle as being your daughter. She's not your daughter. You don't have a daughter. You have a son and his name is MIke."

Dr. Martha continued, "The person sitting beside you is Michelle. She may be fifteen or almost fifteen, but she's a woman nonetheless, and you should think of her as one."

"Are you saying I should treat her as an adult?"

"Of course not. Its bad enough that she's smoking like an adult, but I'll cross that bridge next. I'm just saying that you'll be tempted to think of Michelle as a little girl and she's not a little girl because you're not a little girl. Its important that you understand that Michelle's problems don't stem from being born into the wrong body. She's definitely transgendered but not in the classical sense of being born into the wrong body. Are you following me?"

"I thinks so," said my mother.

"What about you Michelle," asked Dr. Martha? "Does my diagnosis seem on track with the way you feel?"

"It's like you can read my mind," I said.

"Good," said Dr. Martha. "As I was saying, you'll be tempted to treat Michelle as your young daughter, but I need for you to think of her as a young woman, more or less like your peer. I know she can't vote and she's too young to drink, but she needs to interface with you and hopefully with your friends as a peer."

Dr. Martha took another sip of coffee. "I know it sounds confusing, but its important for Michelle's well being that you understand. You need to help Michelle become a woman who is like you and who shares your characteristics. But she can't be your clone."

My mother said she understood and I followed it too.

"I want to talk about the smoking now," said Dr. Martha. "As a general rule of thumb, I don't approve of my patient's smoking and I say that as a doctor and a woman who used to smoke. However, I'm going to make an exception in Michelle's case because of her unusual situation. As I said before, she's transgendered, but not in the classical sense."

"I seriously believe that Michelle will have difficulty functioning productively as a woman unless she is smoking because of how strongly she identifies with you."

My mother asked if it would help if she her self quit smoking.

"Not at this point in her development," said Dr. Martha. "The association she has made with womanhood and smoking have already been strongly imprinted on her brain. If you quit smoking now, it could actually be detrimental to Michelle's well being. She needs the camaraderie of other woman smokers at this stage in her development. Of course that doesn't mean the both of you shouldn't try to quit, preferable together, at some later date, but definitely not any time soon."

"There's one more important reason for Michelle to continue smoking," said Dr. Martha. "The Symbyax medication I'm going to prescribe has one major side effect. Many patients wind up gaining between 20 to 40 pounds while taking it. Its been my experience that smokers who are eating a well balanced diet don't succumb to the weight gain side effect. And believe it or not, smoking will also aid the medication in fighting her depression because nicotine releases serotonin into the brain."

"I'm convinced that extreme weight gain so early in her female development would hurt her self-esteem. Its very important that Michelle feels looks her best. That's why I'm recommending that you allow her to continue smoking. And as I said earlier, breast augmentation could also be beneficial."

*****

That six hour appointment with Dr. Martha Collins made an immediate impact on my outlook. I left her office feeling as if there was hope for me. Despite the way I felt sometimes, I wasn't a "sissy-pervert". Yes, I got off on the things I was doing but it wasn't my fault. I couldn't help having the urges and fantasies that I was having.

Forget about feeling like a woman. For the first time in my life, I felt more like a human being than a freak.

This chapter covers the next eight weeks of my life after first meeting Dr. Martha and ends with the start of summer vacation. Because I was being home schooled, summer vacation didn't mean as much to me as it did to my friends. I called them my friends back then, but obviously our relationship changed.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 10 Coming Out By Sharon Parsons

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This chapter covers the next eight weeks of my life after first meeting Dr. Martha and ends with the start of summer vacation. Because I was being home schooled, summer vacation didn't mean as much to me as it did to my friends. I called them my friends back then, but obviously our relationship changed.

My 15th birthday was in April, and as promised, Mom bought me a sophisticated looking leather cigarette case like hers. As sad as it sounds, that was a very big deal to me. My feelings about smoking have changed a lot since I started. I imagine most smokers will tell you the same thing if you ask them.

The other big thing that coincided with my 15th birthday was that I got breast implants! Now that is something I don't regret! I love them and so does my husband! Dr. Martha was right about the connection between my body image and my self-esteem.

I was seeing Dr. Martha on a weekly basis. I was also working very hard at home on getting my high school equivalency degree. At the same time, I was working a part time job that Dr. Martha helped me get.

Dr. Martha got me a cashier job at a grocery store. It was close to our house so it wasn't much trouble for one of my parents to drop me off and pick me up. Being dependent on my parents for transportation made me lust for a driver's license, which at that time was still a year away. But since I mentioned it, this is a good time to tell you that Dr. Martha walked my mother through the steps of legally changing my name from Michael to Michelle. I was really looking forward to seeing my feminine name on an official driver's license!

My relationship with my family was going well. Mom and I had become closer and closer. Tony and my father were both accepting and supportive of me. Lord knows my father dropped a lot of cash on my problems. Its expensive for a boy to become a woman. The changes to my bedroom cost almost as much as my breasts! And I haven't said a thing about the clothes yet.

Mom says I have excellent tastes in clothes- like her. I mostly like skirts and Capri pants, and sleeveless tops. Dad just says my tastes are expensive. My wardrobe wasn't over the top, but I felt great wearing the styles that my mother and her friends were wearing.

Mom and I got a lot of deals on my clothes at discount stores like Target and Old Navy. But my favorite source was Mrs. Holsteader's closet.

Dana Holsteader and I were the same size once I got my breast implants. She was the first neighbor/friend that my mother and I told. I had known her for as long as I'd known Cam. And I had known Cam since we were four. So Mrs. Holsteader had been like a second mother to me. I think I already told you about the summer vacations my family took with her family in their cabin up in the mountains.

Mrs. Holsteader was my best friend's mother, so I had a lot riding on whether or not she'd accept me as the woman I wanted to be. The funny thing is that I didn't really need to worry about her or most of my mother's other friends. They were all very excited for me.

I talked to Dr. Martha about the friendships I was making with my mother's friends and she cautioned me by saying a lot of women get a thrill from seeing a male feminized. We talked a bit about how that made me feel when they oohed and ahhed over me like they did. I told her that it was humiliating in some ways but that it was also very exciting for me. She said that in that case, I should enjoy it for what it was, because I needed female friends.

Of all my mother's friends, Dana Holsteader was by far the most important to me. She never once humiliated me, even though I secretly hoped she would. However, she was very disapproving of my smoking, at least for the first couple months. As a matter of fact all of my mother's friends gave me a hard time about it at first. But by the time summer started, they had all pretty much gotten used to the sight of me lighting up beside them at bridge games, tupperware parties, and at the neighborhood pool.

I learned a lot about being a woman from my mother, but I also learned a lot from spending time with her friends. At first I was a bit of an outsider, and they'd talk cautiously around me when they discussed their husbands and children. But after several months, I was one of the girls to them and I loved it!

I was surprised at how frequently and liberally they discussed sex. By the time summer started, I had verbal descriptions of all their husband's penises. In some ways it was a little too much information, but in other ways I found myself becoming interested whenever the topic of men and sex came up.

My sexuality was a big curiosity to my mother's friends. It was a frequent occurrence for one of them to point out a boy or young man and ask what I thought of him. They'd do the same whenever they saw a young woman. If the person in question was attractive to me, I'd say so, but I'd never say anything about wanting to go to bed with them. I was still keeping those thoughts to my self, sharing them only with my mother and Dr. Martha.

I was starting to get asked out by both teenage boys and young men on a frequent basis, but I couldn't bring myself to accept a date with any of them. None of the guys who asked me out knew the truth about my female origins and I wasn't ready to advertise it.

It wasn't that I wanted to trick a guy. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be with one any way. I was very squeamish about guys knowing the truth about me. Cam and Frank found out by way of Cam's mother.

I told Mrs. Holsteader and she told her family and Cam told Frank. Cam took his mother at her word but Frank called to verify. He didn't want to believe it, but it was enough for him that I'd even say I had. He called me a sick fag and said he'd kick my ass if he ever saw me again.

Cam wasn't violent like Frank, but he was extremely bothered by it. I saw him for the first time about two weeks before I got my implants, but I was wearing my breast forms, so I had all of the appropriate curves.

Mrs. Holsteader had brought Cam along on one of her visits to our house. It was obvious that Cam didn't want to be there. I wasn't any happier to see him. My mom wasn't pushing me to see Cam, but his mother was pushing the both of us. She said we had been friends too long to let anything come between us.

Our first meeting was awkward. He was just standing there staring at my breasts. Even though my breasts weren't real at the time, it still made me feel uncomfortable because I knew he was wondering about the rest of my body parts. However, I could tell by his expression that he wasn't thinking about doing anything with me. He was just kind of shocked and I can't say I blame him.

It was my mother who suggested I take Cam upstairs and show him my new room. She wasn't trying to encourage me to take him to bed. She just thought we would appreciate the privacy for our conversation.

"This is so weird seeing you like this," he said as he watched me light a cigarette. "And you're smoking too! When did you start that?"

"About a month ago," I said as I exhaled.

"I can't believe your parents let you do it. My mom gets pissed if I even look at her cigarettes."

I laughed and told her how she said she'd kill me if she ever heard about me giving him a cigarette.

"Are those real?" he asked as he pointed at my breasts.

"Not yet, but I'm getting real ones put in about two weeks."

"How big are they going to be?"

"They'll look about as big as these," I said as I ran a hand across my chest. "But I imagine they'll get even bigger since I'm taking hormones now."

"Why'd you do it Mike?"

"Its hard to say," I said as I sat down on the edge of my bed. "Take a seat if you want," I said as I pointed at the chair in front of my vanity.

"Its hard to say or you just don't want to talk about it," he asked as he took a seat in the chair.

"Its okay. I don't mind talking about it with you. I'm just not sure you'll understand. I don't get it myself some times. This didn't just happen by accident. I've been thinking about it for a long time, since I was really little"

Cam shook his head. "You're kidding me right?"

"I said you wouldn't understand," I said as I took a puff and tapped the cigarette against the ashtray.

I noticed him staring again so I asked if the smoke was bothering him.

"Its not that," he said. "It doesn't really bother me because I'm used to it with my mom, but..."

"But what?" I asked.

"I can't say. I'm afraid you'll take it the wrong way."

"Try me," I said. "I want to hear it."

I saw him blush and heard him say. "I don't know. You kind of look sexy when you smoke, and older too. Its hard looking at you like that when I know its really you. Its creepy dude."

"Thanks for being honest."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Actually you didn't. You kind of made my day as a matter of fact. So I look like a woman to you? Like if you didn't know it was really me, you'd think I was really a girl or woman?"

"Yeah. Absolutely," said Cam. "Its spooky that way."

I held out my hand to him. "So does this mean we're still friends?" I asked.

He took my hand and shook it gently, much more gently than he'd ever done in the past. "Friends," he said. "Just don't get mad at me if we don't hang out too much. No offense."

"None taken," I said as I released his hand.

Cam and I went back downstairs. There wasn't a lot we could do together because things between us weren't like they used to be. When our mothers would get together, we'd do things like go in the back yard and shoot my BB gun, or play video games, maybe even watch a movie. But those were things that Mike and Cam had done together. I wasn't Mike any more and we both knew it.

We hung with our moms for about fifteen minutes or so. My mom asked Cam those silly and pointless questions that grown-ups always ask kids when they don't know what else to say.

"So Cam, how was school this year? Did you make good grades? Got your eyes on any girls?"

I wish mom hadn't asked him that last question. He said no. But I couldn't help but think everyone was thinking about me.

I think our moms were just glad to see we weren't at each other's throats or scared silly of one another. Actually we were scared, but we were both mature enough to pretend it didn't bother us much as it really did.

Sensing the awkwardness between Cam and I, Mrs. Holsteader cut the visit short. That was the last time I'd see Cam before our families took our vacations together at the Holsteader's mountain cabin.

Mom and I returned to kitchen table for coffee, cigarettes, and conversation after Mrs. Holsteader and Cam went home.

Mom wanted to know about me and Cam. "Are the two of you still friends," she asked?

I told her we were still friends but it was really strange for both of us.

"Its going to take some time," she said, "but you'll both get used to it." She lit a cigarette and said, "Dana was kind of worried the two of you would hit it off too well."

"Then why did she bring him with her?" I asked as I lit a cigarette for myself.

"Its hard to say. We talked some about it while the two of you were upstairs. She wants you to be friends, but she's not comfortable with the idea of you dating each other."

"How come?"

"Its not because you used to be a boy, if that's what you're worried about. Its the maturity difference. You've always been more mature than Cam, and now with everything you've been through...You even look a lot older than him. I don't know. I think she's being silly." She paused to take a puff from her cigarette. "I think the two of you would make a cute couple."

"Mommm!"

"What? You know he has to be thinking about it. Have you looked at your self in the mirror lately? You're absolutely gorgeous."

I told her it was getting crazy and that I didn't want to talk about it any more.

"Why? Because you think it isn't right, because you used to be a boy?"

"Well yeah. I guess you could say that thought has crossed my mind about million times or so."

"And Dr. Martha said you shouldn't let that bother you. Things are different now. The rules have changed. Its okay for you to kiss boys now. I was there when she said that to you. And its not as if you haven't thought about it either. I've heard you tell Dr. Martha that you've thought about it before, you know, being with a man."

My mother's words about the rules changing seeped through my head as I exhaled a cloud of smoke. The rules had changed, but what about the player? Thinking about batting for the other team and actually doing it are two different things, I thought as I trimmed my ash.

I wasn't naive. I knew the kinds of things women did for men when they were dating or married. Would I be able to do those things for Cam or some other guy? I looked at my mom and imagined her doing those things for my dad. I was sure Mrs. Holsteader did the same kind of stuff for Cam's dad. Could I do that?

"I don't know mom. I know its supposed to be okay now. But I'm not ready yet. Maybe I'll feel different when I get my real breasts. And besides, you already said that Mrs. Holsteader doesn't think its a good idea for me and Cam to date."

"She didn't say it was wrong honey. Dana has a gay brother in-law and she thinks the world of him. Its just that she sees you as more of a woman and Cam as more of a little boy, because she's her son. Mother's always feel that way about their sons dating girls. I'd feel the same way if you were still a boy and you had a girlfriend."

"I think there's a difference between being gay and being what I am. If Cam and I got together then it would make him gay. That's what she's afraid of."

"You're right about there being a difference between gay and transgendered. Dana doesn't think you're gay, but if you were, it wouldn't bother her. Now I'm not going to sit here and tell you that she wishes Cam was gay, because she doesn't. But I promise you with all my heart that if the two of you got together, she wouldn't think Cam is gay because she doesn't think you're gay."

I heard everything word my mother said and I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that any guy in the world could think of me as a woman instead of something less or different.

I wasn't ready for relationships or sex and didn't know if I'd ever be. I just wanted people to be ready for me if I ever got to the point in my life where I did feel ready. But for right now, I just wanted to do what I was doing. I liked the way I looked and felt and that was enough for me, and I tried to explain that to my mother.

"So you don't feel like your making a mistake then?" asked my mother. "Because its not too late to back out. Dr. Martha said your body would go back to normal if you stopped taking the hormones. But if you wait until after you get the implants, it will be too late."

"I don't want to stop taking the hormones Mom. And I still want to get the surgery. I want to have breasts like you."

"This isn't supposed to be about being like me Michelle."

"And its not. I promise. I just said it because you're a woman and you have breasts. I could have said it about Mrs. Holsteader too, but you were here and we're the ones talking about it."

"Okay," said my mom. "I believe you.

Michelle and her family go on vacation with the Holsteaders. Michelle becomes one of the girls and debates her first kiss.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 11 The Holsteader's Cabin By Sharon Parsons

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Michelle and her family go on vacation with the Holsteaders. Michelle becomes one of the girls and debates her first kiss.

My first summer with real breasts started with a bang and was followed by a hiccup.

I had looked forward to our annual vacation with the Holsteaders since I was seven years old. Cam and I had so much fun exploring the vast wilderness of their backyard. Our brothers Tony and Gary were the same age we were back then. I sincerely hoped they would have as much fun playing in the woods and hanging out at the pool as Cam and I had when we were their age.

Of course that summer vacation would be different than all the others that came before it. I was glad that Cam and I were on good terms, but it wasn't him who I was looking forward to spending time with.

I became one of the girls that summer! I had been included for several months, but it wasn't until our vacation that I truly felt accepted and worthy of my new gender. Of course the only girls at the cabin were my mother and Mrs. Holsteader, but they were the most important girls in the world as far as I was concerned. Their acceptance of me meant everything and more.

I had taken great pleasure in preparing and packing for our vacation. Because of my new breasts, I needed a new bathing suit. After all, I couldn't go around topless as I had the summer before!

I was absolutely thrilled by my new necessities. I had to have and wear bras! I had to have a new bathing suit. Mom and I went shopping for one and I chose a zebra striped bikini. Me in a bikini! I packed my suitcase with cute little sun dresses and halters and short-shorts.

Mom bought me a silk housecoat to wear at breakfast over my pretty nightgown. It even had pockets to carry my cigarettes in. Talk about feeling grown-up. I could just imagine my self drinking coffee and smoking at the table in my womanly housecoat as I talked shop with my mother and Mrs. Holsteader.

By this time, I was just as addicted to smoking as my mother and Mr. and Mrs. Holsteader. But unlike the three of them, I didn't want to quit and I didn't want to think about the bad things that might happen. I just wanted to smoke and be pretty. Reality was a party-pooper and I didn't want it raining on my feminine parade. That was the summer I learned that most grown-ups actually do want to quit smoking, but I did my best to ignore that truth. I wasn't about to spoil my good time with anything as trivial as hard truths.

My relationship with Cam was stressed that week. He had started going steady two weeks earlier with a girl named Kim Bates. I remembered Kim from middle school and high school. She was a very nice girl. But she never caught my imagination when I was a boy because she was too nice of a girl.

You'd think that having a steady girlfriend would have kept Cam from sniffing around me but it didn't. He stared at me the whole week and whenever I'd try to make eye contact, he'd look away.

His discreet attention made me feel sexy. But it was also awkward. Its hard to be friends with someone that you know is looking at you and wondering what it would be like to go to bed with you. And for me, it was doubly bothersome because I was wondering about it too.

There was this one day at the pool. I think it happened on the third day we were there. Our fathers wanted to play golf as a twosome, so Cam went to the pool with the rest of us.

Cam got into the pool with the boys as I set up my lounge chair in the middle between my mother and Mrs. Holsteader. All three of us were a little sunburned despite using sun screen. I didn't care about the pain because I was excited about showing off my bikini clad breasts.

After getting situated on our towels, we reached for our cigarette cases one after the other or at about the same time. If I hadn't been taken hormones, I'm sure my penis would have sprouted beneath my striped bikini bottom.

At the time, I was smoking Virginia Slims like my mother and had never tried any other brand. Mrs. Holsteader and her husband Dave were both Winston people. I guess that when a husband and wife both smoke, its easier to share the same brand.

I was looking at Mrs. Holsteader's pack and thinking about her and her husband. Mr. Halsteader was one of those men who always went around lighting ladies cigarettes for them. My dad did too, but only on special occassions when my mom and I were dressed up real nice. But Mr. Halsteader did it every day and he included Mom and I while we were at his cabin.

I've always thought it was very romantic whenever I saw a man light a lady's cigarette for her. Not that I felt romantic toward Mr. Holsteader, but it made me feel wonderful that a grown adult man would take me seriously as both a female and a smoker.

"Would you like to try one?"

"What?"

"My cigarettes. Would you like to try one? I couldn't help but notice you looking at them, so I thought I'd ask."

"Really?"

I looked at my mother as if to ask her permission.

She shrugged and said, "They're your lungs honey."

Mrs. Holsteader smiled warmly as she offered me a cork tipped Winston from her case.

"Thanks," I said as I took the cigarette from her.

I saw Cam watching me from across the pool as I accepted a cigarette from his mother. I could tell by the way he was standing in the water that he was painfully aroused. Judging by the embarrassed grin on his face, I think he might have ejaculated when I smiled at him. I held that thought because it made me feel sexy and powerful.

I thought about Cam for the next five minutes as I smoked the cigarette his mother had given me. He was splashing around with the boys and doing his best not to look at me, but he couldn't help it.

Did he want me? More importantly. Did I want him? He was definitely cute. He takes after his father, I thought as I pulled on the Winston's filter.

Mom said the rules had changed. Dr. Martha had said the same thing. We weren't Mike and Cam any more. He was a boy and I was a woman. Or at least I was a lot like a woman. I looked at my mother and then at Mrs. Holsteader as I checked my bikini top. They have breasts and so do I. The thought made me smile.

I was far from comfortable with what I was doing and thinking, but I was also excited beyond description. I'd never seriously considered dating a boy before and I wasn't seriously considering it then, but I was running the possibility through my mind and trying it on for size.

I felt the goose bumps rise up on my arms as imagined what it might be like to kiss Cam. I wondered if kissing him would be like kissing Wendy Dietrich. Lips are lips I thought, but not really. Are they?

I watched him as he carried my brother on his shoulders and waded away from Gary who had given chase. I was kidding myself if I thought he wasn't cute. He was a nice guy too. Any girl would be doing well for herself to have him as her boyfriend. But I wasn't any girl.

I thought I was being discreet, but apparently I wasn't. Mrs. Holsteader saw me watching Cam and said something about it.

She touched my arm and said, "Just so you know, I feel awful about what I said to your mother about you and Cam."

"About us not being good for each other?"

"I didn't say that and I certainly didn't mean it like that either," said Mrs. Holsteader as she dropped her finished cigarette into a bucket of sand.

I could tell she was flustered but didn't know how to help. My mom was silent on the matter too. So we both waited while Mrs. Holsteader searched for the words she wanted to say.

"The two of you have been friends for a long time Michelle. And it goes without saying that you're very attractive. I've seen the way my son looks at you and I know he's confused by his feelings because so am I."

"Its the gay thing. Isn't it," I asked?

"Gay? No sweetie. Its nothing like that. Cam isn't gay...but I can tell he's attracted to you and I don't think its a bad thing, but at the same time, I'm worried about the both of you getting hurt."

"Dana's right," said my mother. "The two of you have been friends for a long time. I'd hate to see either one of you get hurt."

"I'm not saying you can't date," said Mrs. Holsteader.

I told her that I wasn't going to ask him out. "I'd never do that," I said.

"No. But he might ask you some day," said Mrs. Holsteader. "His father and I had a talk with him before we came up here. Now I don't want to hurt your feelings, because we're not encouraging this. We just said we'd understand if something happened, but there is something I want to say to you, and I think you need to hear this no matter who you wind up dating."

She looked across me to my mother as if to ask her permission to continue. "I don't want to hurt your feelings either Sharon."

Mom smiled nervously and told Mrs. Holsteader to say what she needed to say and added that she trusted her.

Mrs. Holsteader took two Winstons from her case and placed one between her lips and handed the other to me. "We're all women here," she said as we lit our cigarettes. "But your mother and I are old women and you're a young woman."

I told her that she wasn't old at all and I thought she looked great. "You too Mom."

"By old, I mean we're mothers," said Mrs. Holsteader. "We have children and you don't. Now at the risk of sounding selfish, I'm going to tell you that your mother and I both want grand children. Its not just us Michelle. Any mother of any son you date is going to think or say the same thing. I want Cam to have children of his own some day. Adoption is okay. I think its wonderful. And if that's the way it is then I can accept it. I'm just telling you how I feel and I think you should keep that in mind when you're thinking about dating somebody."

Mrs. Holsteader paused to take a puff from her cigarette and said, "I think you should consider dating men who already have children and are done with having them. And I say that as much for them as I do for you."

She flicked an ash into the sand bucket and continued. "I'm not saying this because you're transgendered. I'm saying it because you're a woman who can't give birth. Any woman who has ever been in your situation, meaning she can't have children, has been with a man who has said it wasn't important to him. But things change Michelle. Children might not be important to Cam while he's young, but some day when he's older, it might be important. I just think you need to be careful about getting yourself into that kind of a relationship. That's all I'm trying to say honey and I've said it. You and your mother can hate me forever, but I only said it because I love you."

"I never thought about it like that before," said my mother, "but Dana's right honey. Its something you should think about."

I wasn't upset with either of them for what they'd said but I was bothered all the same, just because of the subject matter. After all, it wasn't as if I'd made up my mind about dating anyone of any sex. I'd just been thinking about it.

I'd been confused before Mrs. Holsteader said what she said and now I was even more confused, not to mention embarrassed. What did she mean about dating men that already had kids and were through with having them? Boys my age didn't have kids.

"Are you saying I should date older men," I asked nervously?

"No honey! Not at all," said my mother. "Dana just wanted to put that idea in your head in case you found yourself getting serious about someone."

"Exactly," said Mrs. Holsteader. "You and Cam are only 15. You know he's dating Kim Bates right now. But I don't think for a moment they're going to get married. I suppose they could get married once they turned 16, but that would be totally unexpected. Most teens just date for a couple months and go on to the next person that comes into their life. But some day Cam is going to get married to a woman, and I'd hope they'll have children."

"And some day you'll want to get married to," said my mother. "I know we're putting the cart in front of the horse, but it is something to think about for later."

I agreed with them even though I really didn't want to think about it. My becoming somebody's wife was just too weird to talk about. Think about it- yes. Talk about it- no. I put out the Winston Mrs. Holsteader had given me and lit one of my Virginia Slims.

"I need some sun," I said as I closed my eyes and threw my head back against the lounge chair.

I made the announcement as if talking would somehow block the sun's rays. But both my mother and Mrs. Holsteader seemed relieved that we weren't talking any more. Too much had already been said.

****

The conversation at the pool put a damper on my excitement that evening back at the cabin. It was bad enough that I had thought of Cam, but it was even worse that our parents had talked to both of us. It left little to the imagination except for what we thought of each other.

I spent much of that night and most of the next day dissecting the conversation I'd had with my mother and Mrs. Holsteader. They hadn't said we couldn't date. Mrs. Holsteader had just asked that we not get serious. Serious? Cam already had a girlfriend. He didn't need me. Besides, why would he even want me? Would I want me if I were him? I didn't know. The thought was strange and undeserving of an answer.

I walked out on the deck to be alone and have a cigarette. The summer air in the mountains is cool at night and I found myself wanting a jacket. I sat down in a chair and looked over the rail. Dr. Martha had told me I'd have days like this. Thats what happens when boys who are really boys suddenly become women.

Dr. Martha hadn't said it quite like that, but thats what she had meant when she said I wasn't transgendered in the classical sense. One day while we were alone, she said I was like a cross-dresser on steroids. The first thing came to mind was a body builder in a dress. I didn't like that image and told her so.

She said she was describing my urges and it had nothing to do with my appearance. She said I looked good as a woman and I should be proud of the way I looked. She went on to say that most transgendered women would give up an arm or even a boob to look like me.

Of course Dr. Martha was right. I knew it and she knew it and in some ways my mother seemed to know it too. I didn't become a woman because I was in the wrong body. I became a woman because being a boy in woman's body turned me on.

Dr. Martha had told me that I could have my cake and learn to enjoy eating it too. She had a funny way of saying things but I understood what she meant.

She didn't think there was anything admirable about my wanting to dress in women's clothes and smoke cigarettes. She once told me the clothes would be bad for my social life and the cigarettes would be bad for my health.

But you have to do it, don't you, she asked? You can't help yourself, can you?

No.

Then take what's working against you and make it work for you.

She once told me that if I was going to dress up and smoke like a woman then I should go all the way and become a woman that I could be proud of. She told me there was nothing wrong with wanting to be like my mother. Your mother is a good woman, she said. Learn from her and do her proud, but in the end, you'll have to be your own woman. That's the only way to make her proud of you.

All those years when I was little, up to the day she caught me dressed in her room, I'd been pretending to be like her. I wasn't pretending any more. My hair was long and I had real breasts. I wore dresses and smoked cigarettes. I even worked a part-time job. And whether I liked it or not, I thought about boys.

I finished my cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. I wasn't pretending to be a woman any more. I was learning how to be one.

I was reflecting on those thoughts when the sliding glass door pushed open and Cam stepped out on the deck. We said hello to each other and he sat down in the chair beside me.

He asked if he was bothering me and said he could go back in if I wanted to be alone.

I didn't want to be alone and said so. "I'm glad you came out."

"Came out as in coming out on the deck or coming out of the closet?"

"Thats kind of funny," I said. "But you know I'm not gay, right?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know what to think. Half the time I don't even know if should call you Mike or Michelle."

"Do you mind?" I asked as I picked up my cigarette case.

"Actually I do, but I don't think that's going to stop you."

"You're right about that," I said as I lit up. "So tell me the truth. This is a lot different up here than it was last year, isn't it?"

"You mean different because you're wearing my mom's clothes and smoking cigarettes."

I looked at my blouse and shorts in surprise. "I got these from your mom?"

"That's what she said. They look nice on you though."

"Thanks. I guess."

"I'm being serious," he said. "They do look good on you and you look great too. And I'm not kidding about that either. If you didn't look as good as you do, this wouldn't be so hard. You know?"

I felt funny doing so, but I returned the compliment. "I thought you looked cute in the pool today. As a matter of fact, your mom saw me looking and said something about it to me."

"She said something to me too, her and my dad. They love you and everything. They always have. But I think its weirding them out that we're both up here at the same time. I guess they're afraid we're going to start dating or something."

I exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night sky and laughed nervously. "Yeah! Like that would ever happen."

Cam laughed too, but his laughter sounded forced. I wondered if I had somehow hurt his feelings. But then I thought that would be giving myself too much credit. I finished my cigarette and told him I was ready to back in.

****

I thought about Cam that night when I got in bed. I had a room to myself and my parents and Cam's parents had the other two rooms. Cam was was staying in the living room with our little brothers. The year before we had all slept together in my room.

I wondered what it would be like to have Cam in the room with me. We'd slept in the same bed before but that was then and this was now. Things would never be the same between us again.

At least we're still friends, I thought as I rolled over on my side. I could hear Cam and the boys through the door as they talked and changed the channels on the TV. I missed being with them. I missed being with Cam.

I fell asleep.

*****

The morning sun was shining though my window when I woke up the next morning. I heard my mother and Mrs. Holsteader talking in the kitchen so I got of bed and put my silk house coat on.

The guys had left earlier to do a little fly fishing on the river that runs through the resort. I'd thought about going with them because I'd always loved to fish. But I didn't want to trade the morning with mom and Mrs. Holsteader for the chance to catch a fish.

I picked up my cigarette case and lighter and placed them in the pocket of my house coat as I left my room to join the other women in the kitchen.

Mom and Mrs. Holsteader greeted me cheerfully, even though their faces looked tired without their make-up. There were cigarettes between their fingers and steaming coffee mugs on the table in front of them. They looked older than they had the day before.

I had always associated silk nightgowns and cigarettes with glamor, but there was nothing glamorous about my mother and Mrs. Holsteader that morning. Their hair was disheveled and there were bags under their eyes.

They're just human, I thought as I poured a cup of coffee for myself and took a seat at the table. I lit a cigarette in an attempt to stir up my feminine feelings.

The lack of glamor depressed me but I took solace in the camaraderie. I was one of the girls now and that was a big deal. I reminded myself of that as I joined their conversation.

I wondered if we would do something fun and exciting now that the boys were out of our hair, but mom and Mrs. Holsteader seemed content to chill out. Their time away from the men was precious to them. I didn't understand that because to me, it seemed as if they were wasting that time.

The morning conversation moved to the couch. Mrs. Holsteader turned the television to the Food Network while my mother thumbed through an old copy of Woman's Day.

I was bored and asked if they wanted to go to the pool. Mom said she just wanted to sit on the couch and recharge her batteries. Mrs. Holsteader agreed with her and suggested I could take a hike up to the waterfall.

In the past, Cam and I had spent countless summer hours hiking up to the top of the waterfall. It was one of our favorite things to do. When we were younger, we used to pretend we were explorers on safari.

I told her I didn't feel much like going on a hike by myself.

Mrs. Holsteader said that maybe I could get Cam to go with me after he got back from fishing.

"Maybe so," I said as I settled into the couch and lit a cigarette.

The time seemed to go by so slowly. I wondered if Sponge Bob was on, but women don't watch cartoons unless they're sitting with their children. I picked up another copy of Women's Day and read an article about how to keep a house clean on less than fifteen minutes a day.

I could only take about an hour or so of relaxing with the women before I decided to start my day by taking a shower and getting dressed.

The warm water felt comforting against my skin as I caressed my body with soapy hands. I enjoyed the way my breasts felt against my hands and tried to ignore the penis between my legs.

I can't say I was really ever bothered or upset by my penis. I found it very useful for both urinating and masturbating. For me, it wasn't an issue, but I knew it would be for whatever man or woman eventually took me as a lover.

I hadn't ruled out women at this point in my life. But I wasn't obsessed with them either- at least not sexually.

I shaved my legs and under my arms after shampooing my hair. I loved the way my skin felt after being shaved, but I had come to think of the actual act of shaving as being a chore. I know I said I love some of the necessities that went along with being a woman, but shaving isn't on the list.

After taking a shower, I got dressed and dried my hair before putting on my make-up. I chose a yellow sundress with pink flowers. I thought about putting my sandals on, but if I were going to go hiking with Cam, I knew sneaker would be better for the walk across the rocks.

I sat down at the dressing table in my room and began the routine of putting on my make-up. I call it a routine because it was something I did every day. I put it on every morning and took it off every night, just like my mother, I thought as I lit a cigarette and placed it in the ashtray.

Even though it was a routine, very little of it escaped my thought process. I was doing everything the way I'd seen my mother do it right down to the cigarette burning in the ashtray.

I had mixed feelings about putting on my make-up because I'd grown so used to doing it. I usually enjoyed it, but sometimes when I was in a rush, it annoyed me that I had to do it. My feelings surprised me because before the breast implants and the hormones, I couldn't imagine ever being annoyed or troubled by something as feminine as putting on make-up.

But I wasn't in a hurry that morning, so I took my time and thought about what I was doing. I was neither happy nor depressed. I was just amazed that I was putting on my make-up in the Holsteader's cabin and I had a cigarette burning.

It wasn't normal! But it wasn't wrong either. No one was going to barge in the room and point their finger at me for smoking or wearing women's clothes or putting on make-up. I wasn't sneaking around to do those things any more. I was doing them because I was expected to. How strange is that, I wondered?

*****

The men got back from their fishing trip around 11:00. Tony and Gary were so excited about showing us the fish they had caught. Tony asked if we could eat them for dinner and my mother told my father to keep them on ice and that "we" would clean them later.

The idea of cleaning fish didn't appeal to me so soon after taking a shower. As a matter of fact, I hadn't even considered cleaning fish when the boys went on their trip. Cleaning fish had always been women's work, but now I was a woman. I was one of the girls.

It was Mrs. Holsteader who suggested to Cam that he and I take a hike up to the waterfall. She asked Tony and Gary if they wanted to go with us but they insisted on going to the pool.

My mother told them to put on their bathing suits and she and Mrs. Holsteader would take them.

Cam and I looked at each other. I didn't know whether I should change into my bathing suit or not. I told him it was okay and that we didn't have to go on the hike, but he surprised me by saying he thought it would be fun.

I was about to walk out of the house with Cam when my mother shouted at me that I had forgotten my cigarettes. Cam shot me an annoyed look as I retrieved my case from the coffee table, but they had become one of those necessities I was talking about.

The hike to the river was all down hill from the cabin. It was a little over a mile away and took us about fifteen minutes to get there. We talked about his fishing trip while we walked.

When we got to the river, we took a seat at a picnic table that was sitting on the river's bank. I lit a cigarette while Cam pointed out the spots on the table where we had carved our names several years earlier. It didn't say Michelle loves Cam or anything like that. It said "Mike was here" and to the left of it, "Cam was here too."

"We were vandals," he said.

"But it was your idea and your pocket knife," I said as I exhaled. I waved my hand against the smoke to keep it from his face the way my mother had always done when she was smoking around me and Tony.

Cam waited patiently for me to finish my cigarette. That's what kids do when they grow up with parents that smoke and now he was waiting patiently for me the way me and Tony and Dad had always waited for my mother.

My first experience with the concept of time was associated with the time it took for my mother to finish a cigarette. When she punished me by making me stand in the corner, she timed it with her cigarette. We never left a restaurant until after my mother had finished her cigarette. We didn't go places until after my mother finished her cigarette. My father didn't have that kind of influence over the way we spent our time.

Cam threw rocks in the river until after I had finished my cigarette and ground it into the stony soil with my shoe.

"Are you ready," he asked?

We talked about all the games we had played by the falls as kids while we walked the rocky trail leading toward the top. It wasn't long before the trail ended at the water and we had to climb up the rocks that acted as a natural stair case.

Cam seemed his old self, talking and joking about old times as we climbed, but I quickly learned that I was anything but my old self as the steep climb up the falls took its toll on my wind.

I'd grown up hearing my mom complain about how easily she got out of breath, but until that day by the falls, I always thought she'd been exaggerating.

"Do you need some help?" asked Cam as he let down his hand to pull me up onto a rock.

I looked at him as if he were crazy. Who did he think he was talking to? I'd made the climb at least a hundred times before. But my chest had never felt like it was on fire before either. I took his hand and let him help me to the top of the rock.

What used to take ten minutes took twice that long but at last we finally made it to the top of the falls. I sat down on a rock to catch my breath and have a smoke.

"How did you get so out of shape," he asked?

I exhaled a big cloud of smoke and told him I didn't know. "Must be those hormones I'm taking. I know they mess with muscles."

"Its the cigarettes," said Cam. "My mom and dad get the same way when ever they walk a long ways. You got to quit those things before they kill you."

I told him I'd gain weight and blow up like a balloon if I quit.

Cam tossed a rock down the falls and took a seat beside me on the boulder. "Yeah I know. That happened to my mom when she tried to quit one time. She only quit for a couple days but she was such a bitch. I was almost glad when she started back. How come you started if you knew it was so bad."

"Because I wanted to be like my mom," I said, knowing how stupid the answer must sound to him. But instead of ostracizing me, he nodded his head instead, as if he understood.

"You look and act a lot like her," he said.

"Thanks, I guess."

"Well its what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Actually it is," I said as I flicked an ash. "Its what I've always wanted for as long as I can remember."

"Good. Then I'm happy for you."

"Really?"

"Of course I am. I wouldn't lie about it. We've been best friends forever. I'm always going to tell you the truth."

"You really don't hate me," I asked? "Because you've been acting kind of weird the whole time we've been up here. And before we went on vacation, you never called me."

"Thats because I have a girlfriend now. Remember? Kim doesn't care that you used to be a boy and my best friend. She just thinks you're hot and she's jealous. Its like that with everyone else too. They all know we used to be best friends so they're thinking maybe we're going to start liking each other in a different way."

"LIke boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Exactly," said Cam as he tossed a rock down the falls. "I'm not gay."

"I never thought you were and I don't think anyone else thinks you are either. Its not your fault you used to know me."

"How about you," he asked? "Are you gay?"

"I don't know. I try not to think about it like that. I'm just trying to be like a real girl. You know?"

"So I guess that means you like boys now. You do. Don't you?"

I told him I didn't know and said that it was still real confusing to me.

"Have you ever thought about kissing me," he asked?

His question felt like a knock-out punch as it landed on my ears. How could he have asked me that? What did he expect me to say? I stalled for time by dropping my cigarette in the water and looking for another one in my case.

I put the cigarette between my lips and tried to light it but my hands were shaking too bad and there was a slight breeze that kept blowing out the flame.

"Can I do that for you," he asked?

Before I could answer, Cam took the lighter from me and lit it while protecting the flame with his hand. I was as startled by his actions as I had been by his question. It was the first time a man, other than my father or his father, had offered to light my cigarette for me.

"Thank you," I said as I cupped his hand with mine and guided the flame to my cigarette the way I'd seen my mother do with my father at least a thousand times before. I reasoned that he was only being nice or polite but it didn't matter at that point.

The only thing that mattered was that a man had just lit my cigarette for me! I felt so alive and feminine as I exhaled.

"Thanks for letting me do that," said Cam. "I've always wanted to light a woman's cigarette for her."

I gushed. Every nerve in my body tingled as I replayed his words in my head. Did he really think of me as woman that smokes? Like his mother and mine? Pride swelled in my bosom as I pulled the smoke deep into my lungs and exhaled. I was so happy and ecstatic that I couldn't keep my self from giggling.

The expression on his face changed from lust to embarrassment and I immediately recognized my mistake.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. I promise," I said as I placed my hand on his thigh. "I'm just so happy because I feel the same way. You made me feel like a woman when you lit my cigarette. It was so romantic. I loved it. Thats why I'm so happy."

His eyes opened wide and he jerked his leg. It was then that I discovered that he had an erection. I should have been disgusted, but I wasn't. I was proud to have caused such a potent reaction. I was also incredibly turned on.

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

The question. Ah yes! The question. He had asked if I had ever thought about kissing him. "I don't know. Maybe. You tell me first and then I'll tell you. Have you ever thought about kissing me?"

Cam immediately complained. "That's not fair. I asked you first."

I was coy but encouraging with him. "No one ever said life had to be fair."

He talked without looking at me but I could see he was blushing. "I've never a kissed a girl that smokes before."

"Does that mean you want to try it now?" I asked as I blew a puff of smoke in his direction.

"If its okay with you," he said nervously.

"It is," I said as I watched his face grow bigger and bigger as it got closer and closer until his lips were on mine and our tongues were entwined.

Cam's kiss was unlike anything I'd ever experienced in my life. I'd been kissed before but never by a boy. His kiss made me forget everything about my self as I became lost in his embrace. Wrong or right, i was being kissed by a man the way a woman should be kissed by a man.

He broke the embrace and pulled a way. His face was all contorted and screwed up.

"What's wrong," I asked? "I didn't bite you, did I?"

He shook his head and looked away. "I guess I just don't like the way you taste. Its really gross. I mean it looks sexy and everything but it really tastes gross."

My heart sank.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just trying to be honest. I told you I wasn't going to lie to you."

"Maybe you should have," I said as I stood up.

"Its more than just the smoking," he said as he followed me down the rocks. "It didn't feel right. You know? I mean you look like this hot girl named Michelle but I still know its you."

I knew he was right but I was too choked up to discuss it with him. His expression and his words had taken me to a new low that I had never known before. I felt disgusting and dirty. I wanted to cry.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Maybe this whole thing is all for the best because maybe we can go back to being friends."

Everything he was saying made sense and I'm sure I would have agreed with him if I could have gotten over the disgusted look on his face when he pulled away.

We walked the rest of the way to the cabin without talking to each other. When we got to the driveway, he tugged on my arm and asked me to do him a favor.

"Don't tell my mom about me lighting your cigarette, okay? I don't want to make her mad."

I was furious. He'd just kissed me and he was afraid of what his mother would say if she found out he had lit my cigarette?

"Grow up and start acting like a man," I said as I shook off his grip.

*****

Cam and I did our mutual best to keep our distance from each other after that. I didn't tell his mom about him lighting my cigarette but I did tell my mom. I told her everything, even about getting out of breath and especially about the kiss.

She did her best to console me but I could see she was troubled by my experience. I thought it was because I had kissed a boy. After all, she was still my mom and I had been her son up until a little while ago. It only made sense that a mother would get a little upset after hearing her son had kissed another boy.

I told her I was sorry.

"Sorry for what," she asked?

Wasn't it obvious, I wondered? "Sorry for kissing a boy," I said.

"Oh honey," she said as she hugged me tight. "I'm not upset about that. I'm thrilled that you got your first kiss from a boy, I just wish it hadn't been Cam. He's way too young and immature for you."

"But we're the same age," I argued.

"Believe me honey. Maturity has nothing to do with age even though they go together sometimes. You've always been more mature than he is. His mother and I talk about it all the time. But the difference is even worse now. Haven't you heard people say that girls mature faster than boys."

I nodded that I had even though I didn't think it had anything to do with me.

"Don't you see sweetheart, its just like Dr. Martha said. You're not a little girl because I'm not a little girl. I know you're young, but in your heart, you're a woman like me, and you need to start thinking of yourself that way. I know Dana and I do. That's what she was saying down at the pool yesterday when she was talking about you and Cam."

"Boys like Cam are never going to appreciate you for the woman you are honey, not until they're much older. They're going to be attracted to you but they won't know know what to do with you. And they certainly won't be able to handle their feelings for you."

I told my mom it wasn't worth it. "I don't want to be anybody's girlfriend- ever!" I said.

"Don't talk like that honey. It would break my heart if you never found someone to love and who will love you back. I know it hurts, but its worth the pain when you finally find someone special."

"So what am I going to do Mom?"

"Be patient. That's about all you can do. And keep your eyes open. Mr. Right never wears a name tag."

"Is that the way it was with you and Dad."

Mom laughed. "I guess you could say that," she said. I knew your father for two years before he asked me out. And if you had told me back then I'd ever go out with him, much less fall in love with him and marry him, I would have said you were crazy. But that's the way love works sometime. You find it where you least expect it."

Michelle is now home from her family trip to the Halsteader's cabin. The rest of her summer is spent in therapy with Dr. Martha, working at the grocery store, and working on her G.E.D. Dr. Martha tries to get Michelle past her boyish pride. Note this chapter is rated as "Mature". There's no sex, but it is discussed in a tasteful and necessary way.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 12 Nothing To Be Embarrassed About By Sharon Parsons

---

 
I had a lot of mixed feelings about my experience at the Holsteader's cabin. It was heart breaking as far my relationship with Cam was concerned. But it was also an eye opener. I discovered that being a woman isn't all fun and games and smoking isn't always as wonderful as I had built it up to be. I learned that even the people close to me have prejudices.

At fifteen, I still had a lot to learn about life. According to Dr. Martha, there were no right or wrong answers. So how was I going to learn about life if there weren't any wrong or right answers?

I had some deep conversations with Dr. Martha when I got home from the Holsteader's cabin. I told her about the things that had happened and she asked me to describe the way I felt about them.

I was ashamed, hurt and embarrassed over Cam's rejection of me, but I had loved the feeling of being accepted as one of the girls. Which feeling was stronger and more important- rejection or acceptance?

We talked about how special and feminine I felt at the falls when Cam lit my cigarette for me. We talked about the thoughts and feelings I experienced during our kiss. She told me to focus on everything that happened before the rejection.

I had to admit those moments leading up to the rejection were magical for me. I felt like a Disney princess in a fairy tale when Cam lit my cigarette for me. For a brief moment in time I was no longer his equal or peer in a male to male sense. He had treated me tenderly and gently like a lady and I had loved it.

The feeling of being treated like a lady had been foreign to me. I'd imagined it many times, but my imagination, as creative as it was, paled to the real thing.

When Cam and I kissed, I saw my father and my mother and every other married couple that I admire and respect. I didn't feel like a boy wearing a dress or like a bad kid smoking. I just felt like a good woman who was feeling great about her self while enjoying a very pleasurable kiss.

Yes Dr. Martha. I kissed a boy and I liked it. So what does that mean? What does that say about me?

She said it meant that I could lead a happy and productive life as a woman!

If that was true, why did I feel so guilty and ashamed for kissing Cam? It wasn't just me. It was him too. He avoided me like the plague once we got back from the vacation. Despite what Dr. Martha said, I didn't feel happy and productive and I told her so.

Its going to take some time, she said. And then she told me that I had my whole life to feel good about myself but that I needed to start by building a solid emotional infrastructure.

She told me that no man was going to love me until I felt good about myself and the only way I was going to feel good about myself was by letting go of the guilt and shame.

I heard what she said about feeling good about myself. I grasped the significance of it. But why had she felt it necessary to link it to a man? No man is ever going to love me?

We talked about my concerns. I wasn't arguing about my feelings. I had truly enjoyed kissing Cam. But that didn't mean I'd enjoy kissing him again, and after that heart felt rejection, I couldn't see putting myself in a similar situation with another boy or man. Boys kissing boys didn't seem right to me.

I argued about my sexuality from a sense of pride. Kissing Cam, regardless of how great it was at the time, made me feel like a sissy.

Dr. Martha didn't like me to use the world "sissy". She said it was a sign of self-hatred.

"You can't help who you are," she said. "Don't deny the things that make you happy. Embrace and celebrate them!"

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO!"

"Why not," she asked? "Is it because you really don't enjoy them? Or is it because you're embarrassed that you enjoy them?"

I didn't know it then, but that was most important question I'd ever been asked.

She and I had crossed this path before. We'd been dealing with my boyish pride from day one. It was the only thing standing between Mike and Michelle. Pride is the last remanent of my life as a boy. Its resilient and I battle it to this day, but on that day, I took it down a notch.

"Its because I'm embarrassed," I said sadly.

"I know you are. And I understand that," she said.

I told her that I felt as if I had failed. I had failed everyone: my parents, my friends, my gender, and of course myself.

My parents had raised me right. They didn't raise me to smoke cigarettes or wear dresses or kiss boys or drop out of school. What kind of example was I setting for my little brother? How can I not be embarrassed?

Dr. Martha smiled warmly and said, "You remind me a lot of your mother from where I sit. You're proud of her, aren't you? Don't you want to be like her?"

"More than anything," I said. "If I was really like her, I wouldn't feel as bad as I do."

"I think you are really like her. That's why you need to think about your life from a woman's perspective instead of a boy's. There's no shame in living your life as a woman if it makes you happy. And it does make you happy, doesn't it?"

I nodded my head and pursed my lips. "Yes."

"Good," said Dr. Martha. "Then its time to start focusing on the things that will make you happy as a woman."

*****

I spent the remainder of my summer working on things: I worked at my job at the grocer store. I worked at getting my G.E.D. And I worked on becoming a woman with the help of Dr. Martha and my mom.

I had a variety of different therapy sessions. Sometimes I'd go it alone one on one with Dr. Martha. Sometimes my mother and I would see her together. And sometimes my whole family would go.

Family therapy sessions were always "G" rated. Out of respect for Tony's age and my father's feelings, we didn't talk about sex or men. But sex and men were always a popular topic when it was just me alone or me with my mother.

Despite my boyish pride, I made the decision that men would become a part of my life as a woman. It was a liberating decision.

Talking about my feelings for men in front of my mother and Dr. Martha was awkward at first. It shouldn't have been because Mom had seen it coming for a long time and Dr. Martha had suspected it from our first meeting.

I think I started noticing boys about the same time I started raiding my mother's make-up. I was probably about twelve. I was young, so it wasn't a raging feeling. It was more like a tickle, a tickle I had tried to suppress and ignore rather than scratch.

After many summer therapy sessions, I became more comfortable talking about the itch that plagued me, and we began talking about ways I could scratch it.

I gave myself permission to date boys. My job at the grocery had garnered me lots of date requests, but I'd always turned them down. I decided to think twice from then on before saying no.

Dr. Martha wasn't training me to be a slut, but the subject of sexual intercourse was an important issue, and I admit it made me very queasy. After all, there's only one way a woman like me can have sex with a man and that's anally.

Toward the end of summer, Dr. Martha suggested to my mother that she should buy me a dildo, so that I could practice. She didn't intend for me to give my body to men with reckless abandon. She just felt I should be physically and emotionally prepared for when the right man did come along.

My boyish pride took another blow when my mother and I ordered a dildo for me on-line. I was both humiliated and excited. The package arrived by UPS and I tracked it every day from its point of origin. It took five long days for it to arrive on my doorstep.

I was working at the grocery store when the package arrived, so my mother signed for it. I knew it would be there when I got home from work.

When I got home, Mom said that she had put the box under my bed along with a tube of KY Jelly. She said we could talk about it in my room after dinner.

After I finished doing the dishes, Mom told Dad and Tony that she and I were going up to my room for a private conversation and not to disturb us. I didn't want anyone else to know. After all, there are some things a girl doesn't share with her father.

Mom and I sat on my bed behind a locked door and smoked cigarettes while we passed the silicone flesh-colored dildo back and forth while talking about it. Its still a vivid memory to this day. Its also very special to me.

For my mom, it was our mother/daughter talk. In some ways, it was a day she'd always dreamed of, much like the day when I tried on her wedding dress.

Our conversation wasn't dirty. It was loving, instructional, and supportive as she reminded me of what I could expect.

She said that even with lubrication, the dildo would cause pain and discomfort until I got used to it.

She smiled and pointed at the cigarette burning between my fingers and said, "You didn't like that either when you first started, but you knew in your heart that you wanted to do it, and you knew that someday it would give you pleasure. Intercourse is going to be a lot like smoking. Its going to take some practice before you can begin to enjoy it."

I nodded as I took the dildo from her to study it more closely. I was intimidated by its shape and size, but I was also drawn to it. I placed a finger on the head and drew my hand back.

"Its okay to touch it honey," said my mother. "It won't bite."

"Is this the same size as a real man's," I asked nervously?

"Give or take an inch," said my mother. "But its about what you should expect."

"How am I going to know if I'm doing it right?"

"How do you mean," asked my mother? "Are you talking about doing it right with the dildo or doing it right with a man?"

"With a man."

"You'll know you're doing it right when it doesn't hurt and it makes him feel good."

"Is it going to make me feel good too, like when I masturbate?"

"It might," said my mother. "It feels good to me when your father makes love to me that way. And it feels very good for him."

"Do you have an orgasm too?"

"Sometimes, but not always. But thats not why I have intercourse with your father. I do it because I love him. Its the most intimate and special thing two people can do when they love each other."

Those words became my inspiration that night and for the other nights that followed.

---

 
To Be Continued...

Michelle grows up and loses a friend along the way.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 13 Losing A Friend By Sharon Parsons

---

 
The school buses began rolling down our street the last week of August, signaling the end of summer. Tony went to school. Dad went to work. Mom and I stayed home while I cracked opened my books.

Of course there was more to my life than just studying for the G.E.D. I was studying to be a woman after all, and it was an around the clock job that began when I woke up in the mornings. It incorporated all of my actions, thoughts, and behavior.

Feminine mannerisms didn't come easy to me because they weren't a natural instinct. My mother was constantly catching my errors and pointing them out to me. She'd say things like; a lady doesn't sit like that or walk like that or hold her cigarette like that. Try harder, said my mother, or you'll wind up embarrassing yourself.

I doubted that plopping down on the couch in a less than graceful way would cause me that much mental anguish, but I did want to please her and it was actually a lot of fun for me.

When I say acting feminine was fun for me, keep in mind that wearing women's clothes and smoking cigarettes kept me in a constant state of arousal, even though the female hormones had made it visually difficult to detect- but I knew.

Fall sports also coincided with the start of school. Tony and Gary were playing recreation league soccer and Cam had won a starting position on the JV offensive line. I went to Tony's soccer games on Saturday mornings with my family, but it wasn't until later in the season that I went to one of Cam's football games.

My little brother's soccer games were a no-brainer. He was my little brother. I was supposed to watch him play. I liked it too. But I'd also see Mr. and Mrs. Halsteader at his games because Tony and Gary played for the same team.

I'd become very good friends with Mrs. Halsteader by this time and our relationship had evolved into my calling her and Mr. Halsteader by their first names. They were Dana and Dave to me, and of course I was Michelle to them. We were bleacher buddies.

My time in the bleachers ended about three weeks into the season when the coach had to quit because of his job. His company decided to relocate him and my brother's little team suddenly found themselves without a coach.

It was Dave Holsteader who suggested I fill in. He said it would be a natural, since I used to be a player.

I had my reservations. For starters, coaching a lot of little kids was a lot of responsibility. I don't think I questioned whether or not I thought it was ladylike to coach, because I knew lots of female coaches. However, I wasn't too keen on being in the spotlight. I wasn't looking for any extra attention or scrutiny.

Mom said that as far as the other parents were concerned, I was my father's sister, so my gender wouldn't be an issue. She told me to do it because I'd have fun. She said it would be a good experience for me.

Aside from being a good experience, coaching soccer would be a drain on my time. I'd be expected to run practices on Monday and Wednesday for two hours and the games would take up two hours of my time on Saturday.

I took the position as the team's coach and had my first practice on Wednesday night. I was nervous but I did know what I was doing. To my surprise, the boys took me seriously as both a coach and a woman!

I had suspected that I would be able to win them over with my soccer skills. After all soccer is pretty much a unisex sport. The thing that caught me by surprise was the way they responded to me as a woman.

Seven year old boys have a tendency to think of girls as yucky. I know I did when I was seven. But its not that way with women. Women are moms to little boys. Women are the ones that carry band-aids and wipe away tears. They're the ones that can help tie your shoes when they come untied, even though you know you tied the laces right. My soccer team saw me as both a coach and a woman.

When Dave Halsteader asked me to be the coach, he couldn't have known how much the experience would raise my self-esteem. He just wanted his son to have a coach.

I liked talking to the parents before and after practice. They treated me with respect. As a boy, I'd never felt on a peer to peer level with adults. Obviously I looked older than I really was. Whenever my age did come up, they assumed I was taking time off from college and I didn't correct them. Even though I was working hard on getting my G.E.D., I didn't think they'd particularly like the idea that their children were being coached by high school drop-out.

I'd also see my kids and their parents while working at my job in the grocery store. I thought it was so cool because these people had only known me as Michelle. They were unaware of my secret and that made me feel safe.

There was also a down side to coaching my brother's soccer team. I felt as if I had to be an example to them. And as such, I never let them see me smoke before or after practice. If I'd see a kid from the team while out in public, I'd quickly dispose of my cigarette before they could see me. Believe it or not, there was a lot irony involved. I had always fantasized about smoking in public as a woman. Now that my fantasy had come true, I was going out of my way to squelch it, at least in front of impressionable kids.

******

I had my first date with a boy in October. His name was Chip Gossett and he was the assistant manager at my grocery store. He was 19 years old and a part-time college student. He was a nice guy and he knew I was six months shy of my 16th birthday. Sixteen is the magic number in my state. Its the difference between a consensual relationship and jail bait.

I call it a date, but in hindsight it probably wasn't. We both liked the Rocky Horror Picture Show movie and would sing the songs at work. When the movie came to our theater, he asked if I wanted to see it with him. I could have said no, but I didn't. I said yes, and I prepared for it as if it were a real date.

It was a midnight movie, so he picked me up at 11:00 on a Friday night. My dad didn't want me to go, but my mom softened him up. She told me to behave myself, but she also wanted me to have a good time. I told her I wouldn't throw popcorn at the screen. She told me that wasn't what she meant.

Chip didn't hold my hand, or put his arm around me in the theater, or kiss me good night. But it was still a date to me. I know it wasn't a date for him because he never asked me out again.

I went to Cam's JV football game the next day. It was his last game of the season and his mother had been asking me to see at least one his games. She knew there was bad blood between us and she wanted to fix that.

I didn't consider our relationship to be based on bad blood. It was just awkward and uncomfortable but I didn't wish him any harm and I know he felt the same towards me.

The only reason I mention the game at all is because of something Dana told me while we were there. Actually she told my mother and I at the same time since we were both sitting next to her. She told us her doctor had found a lump on her breast and that it was cancer.

Dana was so matter of fact about it. She made it sound like she had a wart that needed to be removed. But that wart was her left breast.

I remember my mother being visually upset. It was the worry on her face and in her voice that gave me reason to be concerned. I was naive about breast cancer. I'd heard about it but I'd never known anyone who had it.

To this day, I don't know if smoking played a role in her breast cancer, but I do know the three of us decided then and there that it couldn't be beneficial. Dana and Dave both tried to quit, as did my mother and I.

To date, none of us have ever succeeded in quitting for any length of time, except for Dave. He didn't quit for himself. He quit for Dana, to make it easier on her to do the same. I remember her cutting back, but she was never able to kick it.

She had her left breast removed a week after she told us about it. She was convinced that her doctors had gotten all of the cancer, but it came back less than a year later. Dana would eventually succumb to it and die about two months after I turned 17. She was only 38 and she was the first real friend I ever had that died.

Mom and I tried to be there for her as much as we could. Cam and I found common ground that helped us overcome the awkwardness we had invented at the cabin. Watching his mother die had a way of making us both grow up faster.

She was buried on a hot Saturday in June. It hadn't rained for a while and I remember the ground being hard. I bought a black dress for the funeral and haven't worn it since.

---

 
To Be Continued...

Michelle tries to make Dana's last days as painless as possible. Dana asks Michelle to make her a promise. Can Michelle grant Dana's final request?   Mike versus Michelle: Part 14 The Promise By Sharon Parsons

---

 
Dana Halsteader's illness was a source of excruciating pain for those who loved her. How do you say goodbye to people you love and care about? How can life go on when death gets in the way?

Dana's goodbye was long and thorough, and life never paused- not even for death.
 

*          *          *
 
As far as my love life was concerned, I had several dates with men after my first date with Chip Gossett. One guy was a college student at Hartford community college. The other was a single father from Tony's soccer team. There wasn't much to say about my dates, but Dana would never let it go until I told her everything.

In some ways Dana was like a second mother to me. There were some things I could tell her that I just didn't feel comfortable telling my mom about. Mom was my biggest cheerleader, but Dana was more like a coach, or at least like a second therapist.

Mom didn't seem to comprehend my issues with men. She considered me to be a homosexual, since I had admitted to being attracted to men. She was always trying to set me up with gay men and couldn't understand why I wasn't willing to at least go out with them. But Dana seemed to get it.

Dana understood that I didn't want to date gay men and that I felt uncomfortable hiding my secret from straight men. I wanted to be upfront but I didn't want to lose my life over it either.

For the longest time, I thought Dana was trying to match me back up with Cam. It seemed so obvious to me. She'd tell me how Cam had matured and changed. But Dana wasn't trying to fix me up with her son. She was looking for a woman who would take care of her husband and children after she was gone.

I spent a lot of time at the Halsteader's house because Dana needed the help. I did everything I could to lighten her burden. My mother and I both agreed that Dana needed to spend her final months sharing time with her family rather than taking care of her house.

I did the laundry and most of the cooking, but I didn't feel like a maid. I felt like a part of their family because that's the way they treated me. Dave and Cam and Gary, all came to depend on me. I wasn't trying to take Dana's place and no one thought I was. I was just doing what I could to help because I genuinely loved the Halsteaders.

When I wasn't spending time with Dana, I was spending time with Dave and the boys. I practically lived at their house even though I never spent the night.

Sometimes Dana would want to spend time alone with Cam and Gary. On those nights, I'd either say goodnight to the family and go home, or sometimes Dave would take me out to dinner.

As a boy, I'd always been fond of Mr. Halsteader, but as a woman, I had a deeper appreciation for him. Divorce was very common in my neighborhood. People like my parents and the Halsteaders, who had been married for a long time stuck out to me.

I admired the way Dave loved Dana and stood by her. I thought it was sweet of him to quit smoking for her, even though she couldn't do it for him. He also had a great relationship with his kids. Most of the kids I knew hated their parents, but Cam and Gary loved the heck out of Dave. I guess thats why I enjoyed the summers at their cabin so much. My family got along good like that too, and when we got together for a week, it was twice as much fun.

About a month before Dana passed, Dave said that she wanted to see us both together. I knew by the look on his face and by the tone in his voice that something unpleasant was about to follow.

The first thing that went through my mind was that she was dying. I asked Dave if I should find Cam and Gary, but he said it was just the two of us Dana wanted to see.

I knew it was serious. I expected her to ask me for something and I thought I was prepared to give her anything she wanted. But I wasn't prepared. I didn't see it coming.

She held my hand and told me what a beautiful woman she thought I was. She thanked me for everything I had done and would continue to do for her family.

Dave shook his head and sobbed quietly while she talked to me.

"I want you to make a promise to me," she said.

I told her I'd do anything for her.

"I want you to take care of Dave and the boys when I'm gone."

"Of course," I said, not understanding the true significance of her request.

"I think the two of you are perfect for each other, and Gary adores you," she said. "And as far as Cam is concerned, he'll understand. He's a good boy and he loves his father, so he'll want Dave to be happy."

I was so confused by what she was saying. I wondered if the cancer had gotten into her brain because she wasn't making sense. I looked to Dave for some kind of interpretation, but he wouldn't look at me.

"He's a good man Michelle and he'll make a good husband for you. He was good to me and he'll be good to you too."

"What? Dana. You can't be serious?" I asked.

She told me that she'd never been more serious in her life and she wanted me to promise her that we'd at least date and try to make it work after she died.

I was overwhelmed. I understood what she was asking of me but it didn't make sense. Why would any woman ask another woman to take over her husband and family? And why me? She knew what I really was. Dave knew it too. And Cam! What about Cam? I used to be his friend. How could I be a stepmother to him?

I rubbed her hand with mine. What did she expect me to say?

"Please Michelle. Do this for me and my family."

"But Dana, I can't. Its not right."

"But it is right honey. I've given this a lot of thought. I've talked Dave about it and I talked to your mother too. Your mother is willing to give you her consent so that you won't have to wait until you're 18. There's no reason in the world why you shouldn't do this- legally or morally. Unless of course, you hate him."

"Hate him? I don't hate him. I love all of you. You're like my family. You all are. But what you're talking about is husband and wife stuff. It would never work and you know why."

The conversation became too much for Dave and he asked to be excused.

"I need a cigarette," said Dana as she sat up in her bed.

"Its not good for you," I said as I removed two cigarettes from my case and handed her one along with the lighter.

"Look who's talking," she said as she lit her cigarette and handed me back the lighter.

I lit my own cigarette and stowed the lighter back in the case. I inhaled a deep puff and steadied my nerves. "I can't be with Dave," I said. "Its just not right. And its not right for us to be even be talking about it."

Dana laughed. "What? Are you going to begrudge a dying woman her last request?"

I suggested she could get better.

"Well I'm not going to get better," she said sternly. "So can you blame me for looking out for my family? That's why I want you and Dave to be together after I'm gone. I know how strange this must sound to you, but I promise you that it looks a lot different from my perspective."

I told her I was sorry.

"Its not your fault honey, and I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I've had a good life and I wish there was more of it to live, but there isn't. That's why we're talking about this."

"It would never work," I said. "Even if I said yes, Dave wouldn't want me anyway, because I'm not a real woman!"

"Don't say stuff like that baby. Of course you're a real woman! And believe me, Dave thinks so too. I know he's attracted to you. I've seen the way he looks at you."

"But I never..."

"Of course you didn't! And neither did he. He loves me too much to cheat. I know that. And you're not the kind of woman that would do something like that either. You have morals and values. You're a good woman Michelle. That's why I need you to do this for me. I need for you to finish raising my sons. You know, start where I left off."

"But that doesn't make any sense! Cam and I are the same age. How can I raise him?"

"You'll raise him the same way I do- with love and discipline. Dave and I have already talked to him about this. We've talked to Gary too and I've also talked to your mother. Everyone is good with this."

"Except me. I'm not good with it," I said as I shook my head no.

"Are you mad because I didn't talk to you first?"

"That's part of it, but its everything else too!"

"I didn't ask you first because I wanted to clear it with your mother and my family before I asked you. We all think its a good idea."

"So since you think its a good idea, it doesn't matter what I want?"

"Of course it does honey. But I never would have asked if I thought it wasn't what you'd want. I know how much you want to be like your mother, and this is your chance to really do it. You can have it all if you marry Dave- a husband, a family, and a home."

"I do want that. But not this way. Dave and the boys are yours. I can't take that away from you. I couldn't live with myself."

"Don't you understand honey? You wouldn't be taking anything away from me. You'd be giving me peace of mind."

"But what would people say? They'd say awful things about me, like I stole your family away from you."

"What other people think isn't important to me and it shouldn't be important to you either."

"What about love? Two people shouldn't get married unless they're in love, should they?"

"If you and Dave don't get married to each other, then chances are the two of you won't get married to anyone. You'll both grow old alone. He likes you and you like him. You could learn to love each other. Its not as hard as you think."

"Aw geeze Dana," I said as I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Why? He isn't cute enough for you?"

"That's not it," I said defensively.

"Well I know its not the age difference, because we've talked about that before. I know you're attracted to older men."

I blushed because what she said was true. I did like older men, but that was different. "We were never talking about Dave," I said.

"But things have changed and now we are. You do think he's cute, don't you?"

"That's not the point."

"But its a start," said Dana. I asked you a question. Do you think he's cute."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I want to ask him to marry me."

Dana grinned. "Silly girl. A woman never proposes marriage to a man. He's the one that's going to propose."

"Does he really want to marry me?"

"Yes and no. He's hoping for a miracle. He wants me to get better, but he knows its not going to happen. He loves me honey and he wants to make me happy. He knows that marrying you will make me happy. So the answer is really yes. He wants to marry you. He wants to be your husband Michelle."

My head spun as I struggled to comprehend the reality of Dana's request. I felt like I was either going to throw up or pass out. Marrying Dave and being a step mother to Cam and Gary was both a fantasy and a nightmare. How could she ask me to do this for her? I was only 17 and I was a boy! A boy with breasts. A boy who always wanted to be a woman like his mother.

"Is it okay if I think about this," I asked?

"That's all I wanted to hear you say. Talk to your parents and talk to your therapist. And we'll see how it goes from there."

"Okay Dana. I'll think about it," I said as I leaned in for a hug. "But don't go any where any time soon, okay?"
 

*          *          *
 
The first thing I did when I got back home was to talk to my mother. Dana had been truthful with me. She had discussed it with my mom and my mom had agreed with her that it was a good idea. I was stunned.

My father, on the other hand, wasn't particularly keen on the idea of me marrying his best friend. Dad loved me and supported what I was doing, but he was understandably squeamish whenever the subject of homosexuality or same-sex marriage came up. He didn't want to think about Dave and I doing the kinds of things that husbands and wives do with each other in bed.

And how did my therapist weigh in on the matter? Dr. Martha approved. She said a marriage to Dave would validate my urges to live as a woman.

Within a couple days, I'd talked to everyone that mattered except for Dave, Cam, and Gary. How could I talk about something like this when Dana was still alive? As it turned out, I didn't have to approach them because Dana did it for me.

Dana had talked to my mom so she knew I'd discussed it with her and she knew that Dr. Martha approved. I hadn't said yes to Dana, but she took it upon herself to put me on the spot in front of her family.

I was having dinner at her house when she brought up the subject of me marrying Dave after she died. The room suddenly got quiet and I wanted to hide under the table.

Dana asked me if I had talked to my mother and my therapist about it. I couldn't lie, so I told her I had.

"And what did they say," asked Dana? "Did they think it was a good idea?"

Dana Halsteader was a house wife, but I swear to God that she missed her calling as a trial lawyer. I felt that I had no choice other than to answer her question honestly.

I was in a state of shock as I watched Dana remove the diamond solitaire from her left finger and hand it to Dave. She asked him to propose to me. She said she wanted everyone to see him place the ring on my finger.

Neither Cam nor Gary protested as their father got up from his chair and walked around the table and knelt down in front of me. The look on Dave's face was pained as he took my hand and said those words I never thought I'd hear.

"Michelle. Will you marry me and be my wife?"

I looked at Dana who was nodding her head yes. I looked at Cam and Gary. Neither of them said anything, but Cam gave me a nod.

Oh my God! What am I doing, I thought as I looked down at Dave who was still on one knee.

"Yes Dave. I'll marry you and be your wife."

Everyone sighed at once as Dave placed the diamond ring on my left finger.

Dana Halsteader had won. So did that make me the loser? I didn't know. I didn't feel like a winner, but I wasn't sad. I wasn't happy either. I just felt sick to my stomach and I remember being very scared.

---

 
To Be Continued...

Michelle and Dave get married. Its a tense and worrisome day for both of them. Michelle spends most of the ceremony wondering how she got her self into the predicament.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 15 Wedding Bells By Sharon Parsons

---

 
Dave and I were married a month after Dana was buried. Considering the circumstances, the event was bitter-sweet to say the least. We had a July wedding, so Cam and Tony were out of school for the summer. That meant we'd be starting our marriage with a full house. I wouldn't have the benefit of having the house to myself for eight hours a day.

I wasn't concerned about Cam and Tony getting under my feet or in my way. I just thought I'd need a little more "me" time to make the transition to wife and mother. I knew how to cook and clean, so that wasn't the problem. My problem was an emotional one and I wondered if I was up to the task.

Most newlyweds, even those with kids, honeymoon for at least a week by themselves. But Dave and I had no such plans because we weren't romantically involved. That's not to say we had ruled romance out of our future. Anything was possible, but we had both decided beforehand that sex wouldn't be a prerequisite for our marriage.

The only thing we had agreed upon was that we'd live together as a family and he and I would share the same bed. Dana didn't match us up because she wanted us to have sex. She did it because she wanted us both to have a special friend in our lives. She didn't want either of us to be lonely or grow old alone.

****

Weddings are supposed to be a happy thing, but ours was solemn and almost contractual, despite my pretty white wedding dress. The dress of course had been my mothers and I fulfilled a dream of hers by wearing it.

We had a traditional wedding, albeit a small one. There were only 50 guests in attendance, consisting of family, close friends, and good neighbors. Both sets of my grandparents had come to see me walk down the aisle in my mother's dress to take a 40 year old man as my lawful and wedded husband.

Though nobody said anything about it, I suspected our guest's emotions were divided by gender. The women seemed sentimental and hopeful while the men harbored looks of revulsion. Of course it might have been my imagination. Perhaps I was paranoid, but that was the feeling I got as I studied the faces of well-wishers and gawkers sitting in the church pews.

I wish I could tell you that my wedding and the days leading up to it were like a dream come true for me, but it wasn't that way. I remember it as being one big scary blur. My wedding felt like it was happening to someone else, and in a way it kind of was.

I was living my life as Michelle but I hadn't separated myself from Mike. I looked like a woman on the outside but on the inside I was still all boy. And boys don't marry their best friend's fathers, do they?

Of course its a little unfair to call Cam my best friend because we were best friends in another life. But the memories were still there and I clung to them. I think we both did. Maybe everyone did.

Even though we'd buried Dana a month earlier, it felt like she was standing next to me as an invisible maid of honor. But it was my mom, not Dana, standing beside me as I took my vows. Dad gave me away and Cam stood as his father's best man. Tony and Gary were groomsmen.

Because same-sex marriage was legal in Connecticut, our marriage would be legal and binding. It wasn't a game or a hoax. The pastor in charge of our ceremony was ready and within his rights to pronounce us husband and wife. From that day forward, I'd be known as Mrs. Michelle Halsteader.

I was going to be a wife! I was going to be a stepmother! I was going to go crazy! I wanted to rip my dress off and shout that it was over. I'd tell them all that there'd be no wedding today or any other day. But I remained quiet and respectful as the pastor spoke and I remembered the promise I'd made to Dana Halsteader.

It may sound like a shotgun wedding, but it wasn't. No one was forcing me to marry Mr. Halsteader.

I was a lot of things that day. I was scared, and ashamed, and embarrassed, but I was also willing. Dr. Martha was right about marriage validating my urges. At least I hoped she was right.

What is a woman supposed to think about as she stands in front of a church preparing her self to take a man for her husband?

She's supposed to think about how much she loves the man and how happy they'll be together. But I wasn't thinking about that.

A million thoughts crowed my mind as the pastor spoke of love and commitment. What about sex? I knew Dave didn't expect it from me any time soon, but would he ever? And what about my feelings? Did I want to lead a life of celibacy? What if someday I wanted sex but Dave didn't?

I didn't have a rule book to refer to. We were making it up as we went along.

There were so many other things to think about it and they were all pushing and shoving their way to the front of my head. How had I gotten myself into this?

My life, or at the least the several years of it, flashed across my mind as the pastor spoke.

Five years earlier, at the tender age of 12, my mother had walked in on me while I was wearing one of her nightgowns and pretending to smoke. That moment had been wrought with fear, shame, and humiliation.

I wasn't supposed to be the kind of boy that played dress-up in his mother's clothes. I was supposed to be a good boy. Good boys don't play with matches or smoke cigarettes. They play baseball and soccer and kiss girls.

Getting caught that day changed my whole life. Would this have happened if that hadn't have happened? Maybe I would have gotten caught some other day. Or maybe I would've gotten better at hiding it if I'd had more time to learn.

I looked down at my dress. It was so pretty. Look at me now, I thought. Look at how far I've come since that day in my parent's room. Isn't this what I've always wanted? Isn't it?

I wanted to cry, if not for shame, then for joy. I didn't know which.

It occurred to me that I had given up my manhood without a fight, not to even mention my lost childhood. I'd done what everyone said to do. Mom said it was right and Dr. Martha said it was right, and of course Dana had said it was right. Everyone had told me that I needed to be a woman, and I had listened to them because it felt good.

Yes, it felt good. It felt good then and it feels good now. But what's the meaning of good? Good is excited! Good is exhilarating!

Standing at the alter with Dave, I was scared to death about what the future would hold, but I still had an erection. Thank God it wasn't noticeable or I would have died from humiliation.

I could hear the voices in my head. Look at the little sissy boy getting married in his mother's dress. His father must be so proud of him. Is that his little willy poking out?

I wanted to run away and scream but I stood my ground quietly as the pastor gave me what I always wanted. And later that night in our honeymoon bed, maybe Dave would give me what I always wanted. But did I really want it?

What did I want? I wanted a cigarette! I needed one! God damn stupid nicotine addict! My mother warned me not to start. She begged me not to start. But did I listen to her? Hell no! I wanted to be like just like her. Well look at me now! I did it. In a couple of minutes I'd be another married woman rooting around her purse for a pack of cigarettes. But I'd look so sexy and so in charge of my life. Wasn't that worth it?

I prayed a worthless and silent prayer to God, asking to be a boy again. Give me a second chance. I'll try to be a better boy.

And the pastor asked Dave if he took me, Michelle, as his lawful and wedded wife. Goosebumps sprang up on my arms as he looked at me and then at the pastor.

"I do," said Dave.

"And do you, Michelle, take David to be your lawful and wedded husband, to love honor and cherish until death do you part?"

I took a deep breath and held it as I looked back and forth between Dave and my mother. Mom was smiling and it looked so warm and sincere. I could tell she was genuinely proud and happy for me.

I thought about what Dana said about Dave and I learning to love each other. Wasn't that better than playing dress-up and growing old alone?

My future was uncertain and that was scary. All these questions and so many more raced through my head at the same time. You'd think there would have been a long awkward pause between the pastor's question and my answer, but there wasn't.

I said yes. I said I do.

My legs went weak as the pastor said, "By the power vested in me by the state of Connecticut, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Dave you may now kiss your bride."

I saw Dave smile for the first time since Dana died, as he lifted my veil and pressed his lips against mine. My husband had kissed me for the first time! My husband!

The music played and everyone stood as David took my arm and led me back up the aisle. I scanned the expressions in the crowd as we made our way through. Everyone looked so approving, joyful and sincerely happy for us.

The photographer met us in the lobby and hurried us outside so he could take some pictures while the crowd let out.

I begged the photographer for mercy, saying I needed a cigarette before doing another thing. The photographer asked me to hurry and Dave who had quit smoking, patted his empty shirt pocket.

Dave pointed toward the church. "There's your mom," he said. "You can bum a smoke from her." He called her over.

Mom told me how beautiful the ceremony was as she removed two cigarettes from her case and handed one to me.

As badly as I needed that cigarette, I was still self conscious about smoking in front of Dave now that he was a non-smoker. I asked if he minded.

He shook his head no and took the lighter from my mother and lit my cigarette for me. It was the first time he'd done that since we were at the cabin two years earlier. I heard a camera shutter click and caught a flash from the corner of my eye.

The photographer quickly apologized, saying that he always took some candids and I wasn't under any obligation to buy them if I didn't like them. I was too absorbed in nicotine withdrawal and the excitement from the wedding to understand what he meant. His explanation went right over my head. I mention it now because that was my favorite wedding picture.

Dave had the most loving look on his face as he lit my cigarette as my mother stood in the background smiling. The expression on my face was priceless, and I've spent hours looking at it while wondering what was going through my mind at that exact second. Was I: nervous, excited, relieved...? I don't know, but I love that photo. When I look at it, I see a woman.

*****

I was feeling more at ease when the reception rolled around. We had it at my house. Actually we had it at my parents house because technically speaking, I didn't live there any more.

My parents hired a DJ, and he was actually very good. I think the highlight of my reception was the father/daughter dance. It was the first and only time I've ever slow danced with my dad. He whispered in my ear that he was proud of me, but I had to wonder. My father is a great guy though. It takes a special man to let his son become a woman.

I suspect you can gather from how I'm talking about it that my wedding day wasn't my proudest moment. Regardless, people came up to me all that night and told me how proud of me they were.

I'd been dressing as a female for five years, but it still felt new to me, like I was doing something wrong. I felt the same about smoking, like I shouldn't be doing it; not because it was bad for my health, but because it was taboo. Of course that's what made it so exciting for me. I shouldn't have been doing the the things I was doing but I was doing them any way, and I was having a lot of fun.

Midway through the reception, I was running on all four cylinders. I felt like a princess at the ball in my long white wedding dress. I floated around the room making chit-chat with all my guests. I was having so much fun in girl mode that I had forgotten all about my new husband.

Except for his dance with me, Dave spent most of the reception hiding out in the corner with Cam, and Gary, and Tony. All the guests at our wedding knew the truth about me. And that meant they knew the truth about Dave. Everyone at the reception knew Dave had married a 17 year old boy.

I was dog tired by the time the DJ put an end to it by having the guests go outside and line up on the sides of the driveway. I hugged my mom and kissed my dad on the cheek before sprinting down the driveway with Dave while our guests pelted us with bird seed.

Cam and Tony had decided to spend the night at my parents so Dave and I walked into an empty house. The first thing we did was change out of our clothes. Dave changed first since it would take him less time. He walked out into the living room wearing a pair gym shorts and a tee-shirt.

I changed out of my wedding dress and took off my make-up while Dave watched TV in the living room.

I had a million questions about things Dave and I had never discussed. Would it be okay for me to smoke in the house since Dana did, and he did too before he quit. What about in the bedroom? I didn't want to infringe upon his rights to clean air, but I was heavily addicted and didn't like the idea of having to outside every time I needed a cigarette.

What about the dressing issue? Would we ever get to the point where we felt comfortable changing clothes in front of each other like my parents did?

What side of the bed am I supposed to sleep on? Back at my parent's house, I slept on a single bed. Dave and Dana had a queen sized bed. No. Dave and I have a queen size bed. I was his wife now- not Dana. Her husband was mine. Her children were mine. Even her clothes were mine now. This is mine and Dave's house, I thought as I looked around the bedroom.

After changing into a long nightgown, I picked up my cigarette case and took a seat beside Dave in the living room.

"We did it," he said. "We got married."

"I know," I said as I opened up my cigarette case. "Do I need to go outside?"

Dave shook his head no. "I wish you'd quit, not because it bothers me, but for your health. But this is your house now too. You can smoke in the house."

I thanked him and lit my cigarette. "How were you able to quit? It must have been so hard with Dana still smoking."

Dave blushed and said, "It was hard. As a matter of fact it was too hard. I started back after Dana's funeral. I went to bed and saw her case sitting on the nightstand. I don't know if I did it because I really wanted it or because I missed her so much. Any way, I'm hooked again. I just haven't wanted to tell the boys. I'm afraid they'll be disappointed in me."

"But I haven't seen you do it."

"I'm sneaky like that," said Dave. "I thought I could quit again before anyone found out I had started back."

"Do you want one now?" I asked as I opened my case.

Dave waved it away with his hand. "No thanks. I don't smoke girly cigarettes. I've got a pack of Winstons in my sock drawer. I'll get one when we go to bed."

"Okay," I said as I looked down at the slim cigarette between my finger. "So you think these are girly cigarettes?"

Well yeah, they're Virginia Slims, but I'm not making fun of them or you. I understand why you smoke them."

"I doubt that," I said as I laughed and shook my head.

"I think you'd be surprised if you knew how much I know about you. You talked a lot to Dana and Dana talked a lot to me. She said it makes you feel womanly. And I know all about little boys wanting to be like their fathers and about little girls wanting to be like their mothers."

It was my turn to blush.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said. "To each his own and you've earned the right to be happy with yourself. You are happy, aren't you?"

I grinned as I exhaled while looking at the cigarette in my hand and the wedding ring on my finger. "Yes," I said. "I'm very happy and I feel like the luckiest woman in the world right now."

Dave laughed. "I wonder if you'll feel so happy and lucky after the boys have been home for a couple days."

"What? You don't think I can handle it?"

"Its just a lot of work running household by yourself. You did a great job helping Dana out while she was sick. But you were a visitor then- more like a guest. I think the boys were probably on their best behavior then. I just think they can get a little rambunctious and I'm afraid they'll try to walk over you if they think they can get away with it. You know, like when a substitute fills in for the teacher. I know you remember what that was like."

"I don't get it. Are you saying I need to be mean to them?"

"Of course not. I'm just saying they need to respect you, especially Cam. You're his stepmother now. He's still got another year left of high school, and if you're not careful, he'll make our lives a living hell until he goes off to college."

"I guess you're right," I said as I took a puff from my cigarette and sat back against the couch.

I should have been scared by Dave's warning, but I wasn't. As a matter of fact, I was aroused and felt my penis stiffen under my gown as I thought about being Cam's stepmother. A feeling of feminine power washed over me as I finished my cigarette and put it out in the ashtray.

"What are they supposed to call me," I asked?

"Well, since you're not their mother, I expect they'll probably call you Michelle. That's okay, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," I said, hoping he didn't see my disappointment.

"I don't know about you," said Dave, "but I'm getting tired. Are you ready to go to bed?"

"What side of the bed do you usually sleep on?" I asked as we got up from the couch and moved to the bedroom.

He said he usually slept on the left side and I told him that was perfect, because it was.

As I got into my side of the bed and pulled the sheets over me, Dave stripped out of his tee-shirt and shorts. I couldn't help but stare at his naked body as he got into bed beside me.

He looked at me apologetically and said, "Dana didn't tell you I sleep in the nude, did she?"

I shook my head no.

"I can put my gym shorts back on if its going to be a problem. I gotta get up anyway because I forgot my cigarettes."

"That's okay. Its not a problem," I said as I watched him get out of bed and walk to his dresser. Oh my God, I thought. So that's what a 40 year old naked man looks like. I wasn't impressed. I was revolted. And it wasn't because he had an ugly body or anything like that. I felt that way because I felt that way. Naked men are gross. And then a crazy thing happened. My penis started stiffening. It really freaked me out so I pulled the sheets up closer to my breasts.

"I'm still going to try to quit," he said as he came back to bed with his Winstons. "Just not tonight."

"Okay," I said as I took a cigarette from case and placed it between my lips.

Before I could get my lighter out, Dave flicked his.

"Thank you," I said as I cupped his hand with mine and dipped the tip of my cigarette into the flame.

"You're welcome," he said as he lit his own cigarette.

I did my best to keep it to myself, but I was extremely aroused. The boy in me might have been disgusted by the situation but the woman in me was alive. As a boy I'd never appreciated the sight of another boy smoking, but Dave wasn't a boy. He was a man, and more importantly, he was my husband! As a woman, I rather liked the idea of being married to a man that smokes, and that disturbed me. Everything about those thoughts was wrong. What am I thinking? This is crazy.

"Is anything wrong," asked Dave? "You're looking at me funny."

His question startled me. Had I really been staring? I recovered quickly and told him everything was fine.

"So you're still okay with everything so far," he asked?

I assured him I was okay. "Its actually really neat being here with you like this. Did you ever think in a million years that we'd be married some day?"

Dave laughed. "If I had, they would have locked me up and thrown away the key. I think you're a wonderful person, but this is still very strange to me."

"Me too," I said. "But not in a bad way."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said as he put his cigarette out and turned off his light. "Good night Mrs. Halsteader," he said as he kissed me on the cheek.

"Good night to you too Mr. Halsteader," I said as put out my cigarette and turned off the light.

Dave laughed as he turned on his side and faced me. "Call me Dave," he said. "Mr. Halsteader sounds too much like old times."

I told him I knew what he meant. "Goodnight Dave."

"Goodnight Michelle."

I closed my eyes but I didn't go to sleep right away. Even though I'd gotten aroused in bed, I was glad Dave didn't try anything with me. Physically I was probably ready, because I'd been practicing with my dildo. But emotionally, I hadn't yet come to terms with the idea of a man putting his penis in my body.

It truly had been an incredible day and I wished I'd taken the time to enjoy it more. If only I'd been more relaxed.

As I laid in bed, I decided that getting married to Dave was a good thing and I said a silent prayer to Dana in thanks.

I had known from the day I got my breast implants that I'd live the rest of my life as a woman, but getting married to Dave solidified it for me. This is my life now, I thought, for better or worse. And to me, it was for the better. I was so excited about starting my new life as a married woman!

I was excited but I was also incredibly naive. But can you blame me? I was only 17- just a stupid kid, and a boy at that. And then all of that changed. I was more than a cross dresser now. Being married to Dave, having step-children, and being a smoker made me feel so grown-up and respectable.

I think its every kids dream to be a grown-up. I say that because I doubt many 17 year olds dream about being ten or having a curfew? Now that I was a married woman, no one was going to tell me when it was time to go to bed or that I couldn't smoke, or that I had to eat vegetables. I'd be the one making the rules from now on.

Of course being a woman, wife, and mother, wasn't as glamorous and fun as I thought it would be. I'd be in for a rude awakening. But thats another story for another day.

---

 

The Halsteaders are in need of a real mom when they get sick. Can Michelle step up and be the woman they need? Or is she content to be a pretend mom.   Mike versus Michelle: Part 16 Swine Flu By Sharon Parsons

---

 

The rest of my first summer as Mrs. Michelle Halsteader was a blast. It was real, but it wasn't real life. If anything, I was playing a serious game of house. I wasn't a good wife to Dave and I was about as close to being unfit mother as you can get.

Being a wife and mother was like wearing a costume and I was the best dressed mom on the block.

Dave and I still hadn't consummated our marriage, so I was still a virgin. I suspected he took care of his needs by taking matters into his own hands the way I took care of my own needs.

The one thing I did do right was to keep a tidy house and feed my family. I took great pride in keeping a clean house and cooking for my family. But I wasn't what I'd call a real loving person and I wasn't into making sacrifices. I was more about showing off to Cam and Tony.

Was it blatant? I hope not, but in my heart I knew what I was doing and it wasn't right.

Dave gave up on trying to quit smoking about two weeks before school started. He said that since we were both going to be smoking, it didn't make sense to buy two different brands of cigarettes. As the man of the house, he made a decision and we both became Winston smokers. Strangely enough, I didn't mind the switch. I thought it was romantic that my husband and I both smoked the same brand of cigarettes. If they were good enough for Dana, they were good enough for me.

How did Cam and Gary feel I wondered, seeing me in their mother's clothes, smoking her cigarettes, and sleeping with their father? I think they were very confused, because I know I certainly was.

Dr. Martha said my charade was like a drug. She said I was addicted to it and I was under the false impression that I liked it. Sooner or later, she said, its all going to come crashing down on you, and when it does, you won't get the same thrill.

I hoped she was wrong because I was enjoying myself too much. But she wasn't wrong and it all came crashing down a week after school started back.

*****

My life changed at 3:30 AM on a Tuesday. Dave and I were fast asleep. I woke up because I felt a tug on my nightgown. I opened my eyes to see Gary at the side of the bed.

I wasn't happy to see him. I'd made it very clear to both him and Cam that I didn't want either of them in my bedroom for any reason- unless there was a fire or something like that.

I asked Gary why he was awake.

"I can't sleep," he whined. "I don't feel good."

I'm ashamed to admit I wasn't very sympathetic at first. While I enjoyed playing the part of a mother, I lacked a mother's instinct and sense of affection. Gary was bothering me and the sooner I got him back to his bed the sooner I could get back to sleeping.

"I think you'll feel a lot better if you sleep it off. Why don't you try going back to bed and closing your eyes."

"Can I sleep with you and Daddy?"

"No. I don't think thats a good idea. None of us will get any sleep. The bed isn't big enough for three people."

"Pleeaasse," he whined.

"Oh alright, but be quiet or you'll wake your father."

Gary climbed over me and landed softly between me and Dave.

"Thanks Mommy."

"You're welcome honey. Now try to go to sleep so you'll feel better in the morning. You don't want to miss school, do you?"

"Do I have to go to school?"

"We'll see how you feel in the morning?"

"Okay Mommy."

That was the second time in a minute that Gary had called me "Mommy". Up until then, he'd always called me Michelle. He hadn't gone to his dad's side of the bed. He'd come to mine. He woke me up to tell me he was hurting. He didn't tell his dad. I was shocked.

I was still thinking about Gary when I heard him grunt and felt him lurch. I felt something wet and warm on the back of my neck. He'd thrown up in bed. He'd thrown up on me. I heard him cry. Dave woke up.

"What's wrong," asked Dave? "Gary, why are you here buddy?'

"I don't feel good Daddy."

"He just threw up," I said as I sat up in bed.

I've never been a fan of vomit, especially other people's. I didn't like it in my hair. I couldn't go back to sleep with vomit in my hair or in my bed. I thought about that, but not for too long. It was the look on Gary's face and the pain in his voice that made me think more about him than about myself.

One look at Dave told me he wasn't going to be much help. He was obviously concerned about Gary, but he also looked helpless. Sick kids were outside his jurisdiction.

I helped Gary out of bed and led him to the bathroom. I soaked a wash cloth and wiped away the vomit from his cheeks. I helped him take off his pajamas and then I wrapped a clean towel around his shoulders. I told him to sit by the toilet until he felt better and that I'd come back for him in a minute or two.

I returned to the bedroom with an armful of clean sheets. I asked Dave to get out of bed while I changed it. I ripped off the soiled sheets and put them in the dirty clothes hamper.

Judging by the clock on the nightstand, it took me less than three minutes to put clean sheets on the bed.

I told Dave to get back in bed and I'd help Gary.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he climbed back into bed.

"Go back to sleep," I said. "I can do it."

Dave didn't argue with me. He just thanked me and laid back down.

I went upstairs and got a clean pair of pajamas out of Gary's drawer and helped him get into them. I had him sit on my bed while I took his temperature. He had a fever of 103 degrees.

"Looks like you're not going to school tomorrow sweetheart. You've got a fever. Does anything else hurt besides your tummy?"

****

I gave him some tylenol and had him eat a couple crackers to settle his stomach. After he had a drink of water, I laid him down in the middle of the bed between Dave and I.

Gary fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. I stayed up and had a cigarette and thought about what had happened.

I did what I did for Gary because I genuinely felt sympathy for him. He looked so pathetic. I wanted to help him. I needed to help him. I reached over and brushed the hair on his forehead. He was warm and sweaty. I knew I'd have to call the doctor if he still had a fever in the morning.

****

Gary still had a fever in the morning. Out of curiosity, I stuck an instant thermometer in Cam's ear while he was eating breakfast. I thought he looked kind of bad and I was right. He had a fever too.

"I wondered why I felt so bad," said Cam, after I told him what his temperature was.

I told Cam that I wanted him to stay home with Gary and that I'd take them both to the doctor later that morning.

I also took mine and Dave's temperature but we were both fine.

Dave had to go to work. I kissed him goodbye and wished him a good day. He said he'd call later to check on the boys.

I sat down at the table with the boys and lit a cigarette. Even though I was wearing a silky nightgown and smoking, I didn't have an erection. I wondered why? I also wondered what my mother would do. Was I doing it right? I picked up the phone and called her.

Mom answered the phone and told me she'd just gotten Tony off to school and Dad off to work. She was glad I called and wanted to know if I wanted to get together.

I told her about Gary and Cam having fevers. She agreed with me that the temperature was high and that I should make a doctor's appointment for them. I heard her light a cigarette over the phone and the sound of her lighter clicking made me reach for my case. My erection returned. I was aroused by the idea of smoking while talking to my mom over the phone. Talking about our boys and our husbands made me feel so "mom-like".

After hanging up with my mom, I made an appointment with our family doctor- Dr. Limpke. I didn't like Dr. Limpke and he didn't like me. There was still bad blood between us. He never came right out and said it, but I knew he thought I was stupid for taking up smoking and transitioning into a woman. Of course he wasn't the only one who thought I was stupid for doing those things. Whenever I saw him, I found myself agreeing with his assessment of me. Just being in his presence made me feel bad about myself, but I sucked it up and put the boys' needs in front of my own.

****

After waiting for an hour to see him, and another hour for him to confirm some tests, Dr. Limpke gave me the bad news. Of course it sounded worse than it really was, but I didn't like it regardless.

Dr. Limpke said the boys both had H1N1 or Swine Flu. Since both the boys were in good health, their lives weren't threatened, but he said they should expect a miserable week. He said there'd be coughing, sore throats, diarrhea, vomiting, and basically the works. He prescribed Zanamivir and rest. He also said I shouldn't be surprised if Dave and I came down with it because it was very contagious.

****

Dr. Limpke was right. My whole family got sick with H1N1, though not at the same time. Dave came down with it five days later, just as the boys were starting to get over their bout.

I went from caring for sick boys to caring for a sick husband. Dave felt so terrible that he gave up smoking. So in a way, the Swine Flu was almost a blessing for him.

Taking care of sick people is a lot of work. I never really thought about it when I was a boy living at home. My mom always took care of me though, even when she was sick her self. As a boy, I had been so self-centered and preoccupied with my self that I never gave any thought to her feelings, but as I took care of my family, I found inspiration in her actions.

I was unselfish for the first time in my life. I had to be, because my family needed me. They were depending on me to make everything better.

My mom wanted to help but I wouldn't let her come near the house. I didn't want her to catch it or bring it back to Tony or Dad.

I started getting a cough about three days after Dave got sick with it. There was a run of about three days where we both felt like we were going to die at the same time, but I was the one that had to be strong for all of us.

I had to be strong like a woman. I had to, because my family needed for me to be. Cam and Tony tried to help when they got home from school, but neither Dave or myself wanted to be a burden. I was fine with them bringing me an occasional glass of water, but I didn't want them to get behind their on homework. I was also afraid they'd catch it again and I didn't want to nurse my family through another relapse.

While I was sick, Dave and the kids really got on my case about smoking. Dave had quit, so the kids held it over my head. They'd say, if Dad can quit, so can mom. But I couldn't quit.

Talk about feeling stupid. I was coughing my lungs up from the flu but I was still puffing on those nasty Winstons. It hurt to smoke but it felt worse when I didn't. It was a lose/lose situation. I didn't feel very sexy or strong. I felt like a nicotine addict with the flu. I felt so bad I wanted to die.

As bad as I felt, I couldn't lay down and rest all day. That was when I learned that mothers can't take vacations or get sick. Someone has to wash the clothes, cook the meals, and basically run the house. Dave and the boys did their best to help, but there were just some things I had to do by myself. Either the boys didn't know how to do it or Dave could, but he was to sick too! That left me.

Dave was back on his feet during my last three days of wanting to die. He was a tremendous help, because by then I was too worn out to help myself. He did a great job of picking up my slack.

Dave and the boys took care of me when I couldn't take care of myself.

As bad as I felt from the flu, I had another set of feelings to deal with and they were entirely emotional.

The flu had changed our family dynamics because it had changed me. The flu didn't kill off my crossdressing or smoking urges. But it had nurtured a motherly instinct in me that didn't exist before Gary got sick in my bed.

Every decision I had made in the past was based on sexual arousal. There was now more to me than that. I had fallen in love with Dave and the boys and they had fallen in love with me. For the first time since it all began, I truly wanted to quit smoking because I wanted to quit smoking for them.

The feeling of sexual arousal came back as my health improved. But the arousal was hampered by feelings of guilt and shame. I was angry at myself for not being able to quit smoking. It was both a physical and a mental addiction for me.

I was too sick to remember the exact day that happened, but Cam started calling me "Mom". It was mom this and mom that. I'm not sure if he made a conscious decision to make the change. Maybe hearing Gary say it affected him. Perhaps it was his subconscious at work, but regardless of how or why it happened, it happened. I had become Cam and Gary's mother.

My relationship with Dave changed too. I was no longer thinking of him as my ex-best friend's father. I was starting to think of him as my husband and I was falling in love with him.

What was I supposed to do about these feelings? I wasn't a mom and I wasn't a wife. I was just a very confused 17 year old boy. I wasn't supposed to have feelings like this.

My logic was contradicting. In the eyes of the law I was Dave Halsteader's wife and that meant I was Cam and Gary's step-mother. Being something and feeling something are two different things- and now they were coming together and it scared the hell out of me.

I lit a cigarette and looked into the mirror as I put my make-up on. My mother's face looked back at me. Is this what it really feels like to be her, I wondered? My little game of make-believe had begun to swallow me whole.

Michelle explores and discovers sex. She's a married woman, so sex is inevitable. This chapter explores mother/daughter conversations as well as husband/wife physical relations. Its not dirty, but it is graphic and emotionally revealing. If you're the kind of person who can't tolerate sex taking place in a story, then I suggest you skip this chapter, but I hope you choose to read it. Mike versus Michelle: Part 17 A Bedtime Story By Sharon Parsons

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Michelle explores and discovers sex. She's a married woman, so sex is inevitable. This chapter explores mother/daughter conversations as well as husband/wife physical relations. Its not dirty, but it is graphic and emotionally revealing. If you're the kind of person who can't tolerate sex taking place in a story, then I suggest you skip this chapter, but I hope you choose to read it.

I went to my mother's house for a bunko game. I was the first to arrive and ten other ladies from the neighborhood followed me in shortly thereafter. I liked playing bunko. It was one of those things I used to fantasize about when I was a little boy. I pictured my self in a dress, rolling dice and smoking cigarettes with the real ladies.

On this particular day, I felt as if I had more in common with the women than I had in the past. They were all mothers and wives. They all were big gossips. They enjoyed each other's company. I wasn't a gossip, but I wasn't above listening to it.

I had been dressing up in front of these women and playing bunko with them since I was 12 years old. I started smoking with them when I was 14. I'd been a great source of entertainment for them in the past, but times had changed. They started taking me seriously after my marriage to Dave.

None of them, except for my mother, realized I was a virgin. They all thought Dave and I were "doing it". They assumed I knew what they were talking about when they talked about sex, so they included me in their conversations, just like they included me when they talked about kids. I kept an erection from start to finish.

The only thing different about this bunko game was the way I felt about myself. For the first time, I felt as if I belonged there.

I lit a cigarette and rolled the dice. Jane Hanson from down the street said she heard something about Herb Watson cheating on his wife Kim. Darby McLean said she thought she saw someone in Herb's car with him and it didn't look like Kim. Candice Wilson said she wouldn't mind having a piece of Herb because she wasn't getting any from her husband.

"What about you Michelle," asked Frieda Roberts. "Is Dave keeping you busy?"

"We just got over flu at my house, but I'm thinking things might get kind of busy in a bit," I said.

The ladies laughed and Mom raised an eyebrow.

****

I hung around and helped mom after the party. I would have stayed to help regardless, but I wanted to talk to her in private.

"So everyone is feeling better back at your house," asked Mom?

"They are. Its been a long three weeks," I said as I lit a cigarette. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure baby. Lets talk," said Mom as she sat down at the table and lit a cigarette for her self. "What's on your mind?"

"Well you know how I've been talking to you about feeling different about the boys and Dave?"

Mom nodded. "It sounds to me like you're bonding with them."

"Yeah. I guess so, or something like that. I don't know. But I definitely feel different, like they're my family now. Not that you're not my family- cause you and Dad and Tony are my real family."

"I had a mother and a father and brothers and sisters too, before I met your father and had you and Tony. Its supposed to be like it is Michelle. Everything you're feeling is normal. You'll always be a part of my family, but you have a family of your own now. I'm glad you feel the way you do."

"You know Cam and Gary are calling me 'Mom' now, don't you?"

"Yes, you told me that. You said before that you liked it. You still do, don't you?"

"It was freaky at first, but I do like it. I love it when they call me Mom. It makes me feel loved. But at the same time, it feels kind of...sexy, or something like that. That's got to sound crazy."

"Not to me it doesn't. I know what's going on with you honey. I talk to Dr. Martha too. I'm not going to say I actually understand the way you feel, because I don't. But I know you've wanted this for a long time, haven't you darling?"

"I have Mom. But I don't get it either. Ever since I was a little kid, I always wanted to know what it felt like to be like you. You know. I wanted to know what it felt like to wear your clothes and smoke your cigarettes, be grown-up, and do the kind of stuff that you do."

"Because thinking about it made you feel good," offered my mother. "Sexually speaking, it turned you on. Right?"

"Yeah."

Mom trimmed the ash from her cigarette and said, "It must be very confusing for you."

"It makes me feel like I'm going crazy. I feel like what I'm doing should be private and hidden, but everybody knows about it. Its like having a dream that you're naked in public."

"I know honey. Dr. Martha said it would be this way."

"But its not normal Mom. I shouldn't be doing this! It's so wrong. Everything about it is wrong."

"I don't think its normal either, but I certainly don't think its wrong. You aren't hurting anyone honey. From what I can see, you've made a difference in Cam and Gary's life, and Dave's too. They love you. You make them happy. And I think they make you happy. So what's wrong with that?"

"I know I'm not hurting anybody. Its just a feeling that I shouldn't be doing this, like its not supposed to be as real as it is- like I'm cheating life. And then I got this feeling, like I wonder what my life would have been like if you hadn't caught me that day."

"I wonder about that too sweetie," said Mom as she finished her cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. "Your father and I talk about it all the time. But I don't know what to tell you. I hope you're not having second thoughts, because its a little late for that. Dr. Martha warned us that the changes would be irreversible. I supposed you could get surgery for your breasts- a mastectomy, but there's no way to undo the hormones."

"I know that Mom. And its not like I'm having second thoughts. Sitting here right now with you, like this...I wouldn't trade it for anything. Its just that I wonder what my life would have been like if you hadn't caught me. The thing is that I still feel like a boy, so I wonder what I'd be like. It's so weird living with Cam and seeing him do the things he's doing, because I know I'd be doing the same things he is, if I hadn't done what I did."

"Are you jealous of Cam?"

"A little. Its like a part of me is and a part of me isn't. Its just that I look at him and see everything he's doing and I just wonder about it. Cause my life could have been like that too. You should see the way Dave looks at him. He's so proud. Dad doesn't look at me like that. The same thing goes for Gary. Gary looks up to Cam the way Tony used to look up to me."

"Your father and your brother are both proud of you and they love you."

"But its not the same thing and you know it," I said as I put my cigarette out.

"I don't know what you want me to say Michelle. You made some very big life changing decisions. You knew the risks before you made them. You can't have it both ways."

"But I could have, if I hadn't taken the hormones and got the breast implants."

"We talked about that honey. And we all agreed your urges were too strong to suppress. I know you have some regrets, but your life would have been so much more miserable if you had stayed a boy."

"I know that too Mom."

"Then why are we talking about it? Are you just venting?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to complain."

"Its okay honey. Its just that I feel so helpless. I'd do anything in the world for you. You know that, don't you? I want you to be happy and I want to help you in any way that I can. But I can't undo this. I just can't. And even if I could, it might not be the right thing. I'm proud of you Michelle. You're as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside."

"Thanks Mom. That means a lot to me to hear you say that."

Mom picked up her cigarettes and lit one. "I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true."

I laughed as I followed my mother's example and lit a cigarette for myself.

"I wasn't making a joke. I was being serious," said my mother.

"I know you were being serious. I guess I laughed because I was happy to hear you say it." I took a deep breath and sighed. "There's just so much more to being a woman than I thought. Its complicated, you know?"

"Not to me it isn't. But thats because its the only thing I've ever known. I can't imagine what it must be like for you."

"Its been a wild ride, that's for sure," I said as I trimmed my cigarette against the rim of the ashtray. "Is it just me? Or did everything happen really fast- like overnight? Because I feel like I haven't caught my breath yet."

"If you haven't caught your breath yet, then its because of those cigarettes. I really wish you would have quit when Dave did."

"I tried Mom. I really did."

"I know you did honey. Its just wishful thinking on my part. I didn't mean to nag you. But its a 'Mom Thing". You'll feel the same way if Cam or Gary ever start."

"Don't even say that! I felt bad enough when Dave started back and I thanked God when he quit again. I don't know what I'd do if I ever caught the boys smoking. It would kill me if they started."

"I'm sure it would," said my mother. "I know a piece of me died when you started smoking. And I think it made it worse seeing how happy you were about it"

"I'm so sorry Mom. I wish I had listened you."

Mom smiled at me sadly and said, "That's okay honey. I know you didn't do it to hurt me. So does this mean that smoking like a woman isn't what you thought it would be?"

"I don't know. I mean sometimes it does. I guess I still like the way it looks, but I hate the way it makes me feel. But I feel even worse when I don't do it. And then it bothers me that I can't go more than 10 minutes without needing one. I feel like I'm a slave to them."

"I tried to tell you," said my mother.

"I know you did Mom."

"That's okay sweetie. I'm still proud of you. So what other regrets did you want to talk about? I know you gave up a lot to become a woman."

"No real regrets. I promise. Its been fun and exciting. Its been humiliating and embarrassing. And its been rewarding too. I've never felt more special and important in my whole life. I feel like I count."

"I've seen the way Dave and the boys look at you. Believe me honey, you do count. They'd be lost without you."

"I'd be lost without them too, and I know they love me, but I think they deserve better. Cam and Tony deserve a real mom and Dave needs a real wife."

"Don't say that honey. You are a real mother and you're a real wife too."

"But I'm not a real woman and I'll never be a real woman. That's what I'm talking about."

"You don't need a uterus to be a real woman. Dr. Martha told you that."

"I know Mom, but thats not what I'm talking about. What I'm trying to say is that I feel like I'm in the middle and I can't go all the way. I can't be a real boy and I can't be a real woman. I love it most of the time but I'm disgusted too. I know I can take care of Cam and Gary because I've done it. But what about Dave?"

"What about him?"

"He's a man mom. I know he loves me as a person, because he's said so. But he needs more, and I don't know if I can give it to him."

"Has he asked you for sex?"

"No. He hasn't said anything, but I've been thinking about it."

"You're blushing," said my mom.

"Well yeah...what'd you expect? Its weird."

"Its not weird for a woman to think about having sex with her husband. I do it and I don't think its weird."

"That's because you're a real woman and dad is dad. He's you're husband and it was always supposed to be like that. But its different with me and Dave. I'm not a real woman, and he's Mr. Halsteader. He's Cam's dad! Doesn't that sound just a little bit weird to you? For crying out loud. He coached me in little league!"

"I suppose it would be weird if you were still a boy, but you're not, and you haven't been for quite a while. I'm not saying he doesn't know the truth about you, because he does. But I'm pretty sure he doesn't see a boy when he looks at you either. Whether you like it or not, and I'm pretty sure you do, you're a very attractive woman Michelle."

"But he's so much older than me."

"What difference does that make? You're his wife. The last time I checked, its perfectly legal for husbands and wives to make love with each other. The age difference doesn't matter, if you love him."

"That's not what I mean. I was talking about him being more experienced than me. I'm a virgin Mom. I've never done anything with a guy or a girl."

"Are you trying to tell me you don't know how to have sex with him? You've been using your dildo, haven't you?"

"I'm not talking about the technical part. I know how thats done. But I don't know how to get him to want to do it with me. And even if I asked him and he said yes, I've never done anything like that before so I'm afraid I'll do it wrong."

"First of all honey, there's no wrong way to make love to a man. If it feels good, then you're doing it right, and believe me, you'll be able to tell if he's feeling good. Is it foreplay you're worried about?"

"That and getting him to say yes."

"Don't think about it as if its a direct question. A woman doesn't ask her husband to make love to her. She makes it seem like its his idea. She plants the seed and lets it grow."

"But how do I do that?"

"There's lots of ways. You can flirt with him. You can say suggestive things. Wear a sexy nightgown. You have a baby doll, don't you?"

I shook my head no. "I like long gowns."

"I like them too, but when I want your father to make love to me, I put on a baby doll and flirt with him."

"I can't wear a baby doll. My penis would show."

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure Dave knows you have a penis."

"But he'll see my erection."

"Good. Then he'll know you're excited and that you want him. That's half the battle, letting a man know you want him without saying it. You're lucky. Its like having a billboard between your legs that says you want sex."

I didn't agree with her, but I wasn't going to argue about it since there wasn't anything I could do about it. She was right. Dave knew I had a penis. I couldn't hide it from him.

"Should I just lay there and let him get on top of me? Or should I do something first?"

"You really are new to this. Aren't you," asked my mother? "Sex isn't rocket science sweetie. Have you given him a hand job yet?"

"You mean jack him off?"

"You could call it that- yes, but I prefer to say masturbate."

"No!"

"Do you mean to tell me the two of you have been married for almost three months and you've never even touched his penis?"

"I told you Mom. I'm still virgin."

"Even so, you need to take care of Dave's needs. You're his wife after all. I can't believe the two of you are still married. I wish I'd known about this earlier. I just thought it would have taken care of it self."

"I wasn't ready until now. And I still don't know if I am. It sounds so gross."

"It won't be gross if you love him," said my mother.

"What if I do everything you say and he still doesn't want to have sex with me?"

"That will never happen sweetheart. I promise you. If Dave thinks you're willing to have sex with him, he'll jump all over it."

"I'm so scared Mom."

"I know you are honey. But you'll feel so much better about yourself after you do this. If you want, you can have one of my baby dolls. I think the blue one would look darling on you. Lord knows you have the cleavage to fill it out. Would you like to try it on to see if it fits?"

*****

I didn't get back home from my mother's until after 2:00. I beat Gary's bus by about 15 minutes. He told me all about his day over a half a peanut-butter sandwich and a glass of milk.

Dave got home around 5:30. Cam wouldn't be home for another hour after that, because of football practice. His team was off to a 4-0 start, and Dave was so excited about that.

I thought about everything my mother and I had talked about while I made dinner. Every now and then, I'd look at Dave and wonder if I had the nerve to really go through with it.

After dinner, Dave and I watched TV while Gary played across the street and Cam did his homework in the kitchen. Dave was in a good mood, so I sat close to him on the couch. He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed me on the cheek.

"Is that the best you can do," I asked?

"What?"

"You kissed me on the cheek. Is that the best you can do?"

The look on his face said, don't tempt me.

"No. I can do better, he said. "I just thought..."

I kissed him on the lips before he could finish his sentence.

"What was that for," he asked?

I placed me left hand over his crotch and gave his penis a gentle squeeze.

"I was thinking maybe you might want to make a woman out of me tonight, that is if you want to. I'm not going to force myself on you though."

I'd gone and done it. I did what my mother told me not to do. I asked Dave for sex. Well I didn't exactly ask him, but I might as well have just come out and said it. I gave him an out too. Why?

I figured that despite what my mother said about Dave being eager, there was a still a chance he would reject me. I didn't want to humiliate myself by putting on the baby doll only to hear him say he'd rather not. If he was going to reject me, I wanted it be on the couch.

Dave's mouth opened wide. He looked stunned. I braced for the worst.

"Are you sure you want to do it," he asked?

I kissed him on the lips again and told him that I loved him.

"I love you too," he said.

I grinned happily as I felt his erection grown beneath my hand.

"I got a new nightgown," I said. "Its a baby doll."

"What color?"

"Blue."

"I like blue," said Dave.

*****

At nine o'clock, Cam went to his room and I put Gary to bed. Dave was still sitting on the couch when I came down stairs. He had a smile on his face that just wouldn't quit.

"Are you ready to go to bed," he asked?

I told him I wanted to get changed first and asked him to wait in the living room until I was ready. He nodded excitedly and asked me to hurry up.

I gave him one more kiss on the lips before going into our bedroom and closing the door behind me. I was giddy with excitement, but I was also nervous about making a good impression on him.

After taking off my make-up, I changed into the blue baby doll my mother had given me. She was right about my breasts filling out the cups. And I was right about my penis showing. It lit a cigarette, not because I thought it would make me look sexy, but because I needed it. Smoking relieves my stress.

Dave had been good about not getting in my case too hard about quitting, and although he said he couldn't tell a difference, I had tried to cut back. I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head. And to think I started because I thought it would make me look sexy and grown-up like my mom.

I went into the bedroom, pulled the sheets down and climbed into the bed. I called out to David and told him I was ready.

I was facing him when he came in, propped up on my side, with a cigarette between my fingers.

Dave stood at the side of the bed gawking.

"How do I look," I asked? "Sorry about the cigarette, but I'm kind of nervous."

"Like a dream," he said as he closed and locked our bedroom door. He told me how beautiful and sexy I looked as he tore off his clothes and threw them into a pile.

His erect penis bobbed up and down in front of him as he hurried over to his side of the bed. I'd seen David naked before, but never while he had an erection. It was intimidating to say the least ,as I mentally compared it to the silicone dildo I'd been using. It was about the same length, but Dave's penis looked fatter. I couldn't imagine him putting it in my bottom but I was imagining it. Would it fit, I wondered?

Dave ran his fingers across my swollen breasts and gave me sweet kisses against my lips and cheeks as I nervously finished my cigarette. If he noticed my own little erection, he wasn't saying anything about it and that was fine with me.

I was seriously torn between wanting to give Dave a blow job and not wanting to do it. A real woman would do it. My mother would do it. I heard Dana had done it. I had to do it. All the while I'm thinking about this, I'm also thinking that guys just don't do this to other guys. Of course some guys do, but I'm not like that- am I?

I reached out and took hold of his penis with my free hand. Was I telegraphing my thoughts? Did he think I was disgusted? I hoped not.

"Its so big," I said, and I wasn't lying. Other than my own, I'd never held a real penis in my hand. It throbbed with the rhythm of his pulse. I felt myself getting excited and repulsed at the same time. Am I really going to put it in my mouth, I wondered?

"I wouldn't know," said Dave. "I've never really compared myself to other guys."

"I guess you wouldn't," I said as I ran a long finger nail across the top of his penis head. I bent forward and kissed it. It felt soft against my lips.

"You know Michelle, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. We could just cuddle. I don't want to rush you into anything."

"You're not rushing me," I said as I finished my cigarette and put it out. "If anything, you've been more patient than you should be. I want to do this. I think it would be good for me, and I think it would be good for our marriage too."

Dave didn't argue with me as I lowered myself on the bed and placed my lips over his penis head. I heard him moan softly as I did my best to take him in.

I don't think I could have done what I was doing if it had been anyone other than Dave. Did he lock the door? I tried to remember. The last thing I wanted was for Cam or Gary to find me with their father's penis in my mouth. But he wasn't just their father. He was my husband and I had every right in the world to suck on my husband's penis. These thoughts emboldened me and I soon found myself getting into it.

It was definitely a new experience and Dave's size was crowding my mouth, making it difficult to breath. Mom warned me not to suck him too long or else he'd have an orgasm and shoot his sperm in my mouth. She said that was okay if he did and that I should try it sometime, but if I wanted to have intercourse with him, he might not be able to get hard again for a while. She said that once a man reaches 40, he loses a bit of his stamina when it comes to sex. Dave was 41.

I decided to end our session early. It wasn't as if we wouldn't be married next week. I had all the time in the world to explore my husband's penis.

Dave thanked me and told me how nice I'd made him feel.

My jaw felt tired and sore and I rubbed it with my hand while I wondered if he'd kiss me again, now that I probably had penis breath. So this is what it feels like to be a cock sucker, I thought as I reached for my cigarettes.

"Do you mind," I asked as I placed the cigarette between my lips.

"Of course not honey. I know you need them. Besides, I hate to admit it, but you do look kind of sexy when you smoke."

"Really?" I asked as I lit my cigarette.

Dave smiled and looked away. He was blushing.

"I thought you wanted me to quit," I said.

"I do want you to quit, but you still look good doing it. It kind of makes me want to have one with you."

"Well you can't," I said firmly. I'm the only smoker in this family and that's the way its going to stay until I quit." My tone was soft and funny, but my intent was deadly serious.

"Dana said the same thing the first time I quit. She didn't want me to start back either."

"You miss her, don't you?"

"Of course I do, but she wanted us to be together and I understand that now. We need each other. I love you Michelle."

"I love you too," I said as I took his firm penis in my hand and pulled on it. "So you're okay with doing what we're about to do?"

"I can't tell you how many times I've imagined it," said Dave.

"Did you think about it while you were coaching me in little league," I asked?

"No!" said Dave. "Of course not! Why? Did you?"

"A little bit," I said. "I don't know why, but I've always thought you were cute. I didn't think we'd be doing this though."

"But you're okay with it? This isn't going to bother you, is it? I really do love you Michelle. You mean the world to me and the boys and I'd never do anything to jeopardize our life together. We can stop if you want to."

I looked down at his long erect penis and then I looked at his warm face. "I don't want to stop. I want you to kiss me," I said.

Dave snuggled in for a kiss and I wrapped him up in my arms, being careful not to burn him with my cigarette as our mouths connected.

His lips felt so soft and his mouth was the was sweetest thing I'd ever tasted in my life. I forgot about everything as I wandered aimlessly through his kiss. I felt like I was floating. His kisses were nothing like his son's. Dave's kisses were warm and purposeful and full of love and passion.

I was the one who broke the kiss. I did so because I didn't want to drop an ash on the bed. "That was nice," I said as I finished off the cigarette with a final puff and put it out in the ashtray.

"I thought so too," said Dave. "You tasted so wonderful. I didn't want to stop."

"Me neither," I said as I opened the drawer to the bedside table and pulled out a tube of KY Jelly. "I'm going to need to put some of this on you. Otherwise, I don't think it will work," I said. "I'll be too dry."

His penis twitched as I rubbed the KY Jelly into his soft skin. I couldn't get over how big it felt in my hand. This is my husband's penis, I thought as I ran my fingers up and down the shaft. He's going to use it to make a woman out of me, I thought as put the cap on the tube and dried my hand on a kleenex.

"I've never done this before," I said as I laid my head back against the pillow.

"We can take it slow," said Dave as he mounted me from the front. "Just tell me if it hurts and we can stop."

"Okay," I said. "But I don't want you to stop- even if it hurts. I want to do this. I want you to make a woman out of me. We need to do this for us. Its important."

"I know it is," said Dave as he braced his self on his palms and navigated his penis toward my anus.

I told him I thought he was there and I asked him to push. He did and I felt the tip of his engorged head make its initial penetration.

I dug my fingernails into his shoulders. It was either that or scream, and I didn't want to scream. I couldn't take a chance on him stopping before we finished. It hurt, but it also felt good in an odd way. The feeling wasn't entirely foreign, but he was bigger than the dildo.

He asked if I was okay. I told him I was and asked him to keep going. He pushed his hips slowly into me and I felt his penis mover deeper and deeper. I asked him if it felt good. He told me it was wonderful. I told him to keep going. I wanted him deeper inside me.

"I'm all the way in," he said. "You feel fantastic! Are you okay? You're crying. I see tears."

"Keep going. I'm just happy. That's why I'm crying."

"Are you sure?" asked Dave as he pumped his hips.

"I feel wonderful. You're wonderful. Keep going."

I wasn't crying because it was painful. The physical pain had subsided and I had begun to enjoy the feeling of Dave's penis inside me. But I had lied about the tears.

I'm not one to use foul language. My mother doesn't use it and she didn't raise me to use it. But there are some thoughts that require bad words. Dave wasn't fucking me. He was making love to me and it was beautiful.

The only way to describe what I was thinking is to say, Dave was making love to me as Michelle, but he was fucking the hell out of Mike. My husband was fucking Mike out of me. And when he was done fucking the hell out of Mike, Michelle would be the only one left. At least I hoped it would feel that way.

I wanted Dave to make a woman out of me. But I knew my boy side would suffer in the process.

I always thought that making love should be a two way street with evenly split gives and takes. But my first sexual encounter with Dave wasn't like that. It wasn't his fault though. He was doing his best to be gentle and loving.

I'd later tell Dr. Martha that my first time with Dave felt like I was being raped. She said it was because my male ego had been crushed and humiliated. She said that considering my unique situation, it was very understandable that my male side felt like a rape victim.

By asking Dave to make love to me, I had figuratively led Mike to slaughter.

I had a lot of fantasies while growing up. Some of them were Prince Charming style fantasies. But they were never graphic, or painful, or humiliating.

I had constantly questioned my sexuality while growing up. That's because I saw love and relationships from both a male and female perspective. If I thought about Prince Charming, I'd put Mike to rest. If I thought about some girl in my school, I'd ignore Michelle. Maybe I'm bisexual, but I don't think so. Dr. Martha doesn't think so either.

I feel sorry for anyone who has been raped or has been forced to have sex against their will. But I think its even worse when a male is raped by another male. The heterosexual male psyche isn't wired to be penetrated. It's demeaning and humiliating.

I thought about my father while Dave made love to me. I didn't think I'd be able to look him in the eye again afterwards. It was difficult enough for me to live with what he must think of me. But I had still felt like his son in a way, even if I thought of myself as his sissy son. But I'd be so much more than that after Dave was through with me. I'd be a cock sucking meat packed faggot. I didn't want to feel like that and I didn't want to be that. But I didn't want to be a regular normal boy either.

I'd chosen this life for myself and I was determined to make the best of it. And as Dave's tempo quickened, I prayed a silent prayer.

I prayed that Dave's orgasm would be like a baptism of sorts, and that my boy side would drown in his sperm, leaving Michelle to swim safely away.

I opened my eyes in time to see Dave's face contort as his hips froze in place against mine. I felt him deep inside me. I heard him groan as I felt his hot sperm wash through my insides. My husband had cum inside me. He'd given me his seed. We'd consummated our marriage at last and he had made a woman out of me, or so I hoped.

Dave switched his weight from his hands to his elbows. I felt his chest squash up against my breasts. He was heavy, but he managed to keep most of his weight off me.

He told me how good it had been and then he buried my mouth with his and kissed me passionately. I kissed him back until he rolled off of me and on to his side. I felt his sperm flow out of me and onto the mattress as he pulled out.

I thanked him and told him it was wonderful. I told him I loved him. He said he loved me too.

We spent the next three or four minutes in silence. I know I was thinking about what we'd done and I suspect he was doing the same. I hoped he wasn't questioning his own sexuality. I hadn't come to him as a boy. I had come to him as his wife and a woman, and I hoped he had made love to me in that same spirit. I didn't want him to suffer the mental anguish of questioning his actions and motivations. That was my burden, and I didn't want him to bare it with me.

I reached for my cigarette case and extracted a Winston from it and placed it between my lips. In the past I'd never been able to smoke after having orgasm. My orgasms were always followed by shame and remorse. I was always too disgusted with myself to smoke. I hated my cigarettes and I hated my women's clothes and I hated my self. But I hadn't had an orgasm, and I needed that cigarette, so I lit it and inhaled the smoke deep inside my lungs.

My little penis sprang quickly to attention as I realized I was smoking like a woman after she had had sex. I was too stimulated and excited to care that my erection was visible to Dave. I saw him staring at it as I smoked.

What happened next caught me completely off guard. Dave got up off of his side, scooted down the bed and took my penis in his mouth. Was my husband going to give me a blow job?

How could he?

I moaned out loud and prayed he wouldn't stop. Don't let him come to his senses, I thought, at least not yet.

It felt wonderful. I felt great. I lifted the cigarette to my lips and took a puff. I felt even better as I inhaled the smoke and held it. I always smoked while I masturbated, but this was different. It wasn't masturbation. I wasn't alone. I felt self-conscious about smoking while my husband gave me oral sex, but it felt too good to put it out. I continued smoking as my husband sucked.

It didn't take long for the orgasm to rise over the dam. I took another puff and held it as my body screamed in ecstasy. I think Dave swallowed. I know he did.

I took him by the shoulders and pulled him on top of me. I kissed him while rubbing my hand across his back.

"Oh darling! Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that. I didn't expect you too."

"I wanted to though," said Dave. "I love you and I wanted to show you how much I love you."

"Weren't you grossed out?" I asked as I put my cigarette out and replaced it with a fresh one.

"When you love somebody, nothing about them is gross," he said. "I wanted to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

"Was it really that good for you," I asked?

Whether he meant it or not, Dave told me it had been amazing and incredible and that it had never ever felt as good as it had with me. I wanted to believe him.

He snuggled up to my breasts and held me around the waist as I finished my cigarette. I didn't know if the feeling would last, but at the moment, I wasn't feeling humiliated or violated. I didn't feel like a boy who had just had sex with a man. I felt like a very fulfilled woman.

After finishing my cigarette, I turned off my light and fell asleep in Dave's arms.

Michelle settles into her life as a woman, wife and mother. The grandparents come for a Christmas visit.Mike versus Michelle: Part 18 Santa Claus Is Coming To Town By Sharon Parsons

---

 

 
Have you ever had one of those days where everything goes right? You wake up in the morning and the sun is shining and the birds are singing? Everything tastes great. Your hair is perfect. People are nice to you, and so on and so on. I was having more than one of those days. I was having one of those months, and each month kept getting better than the month before it.

My life changed forever after making love with Dave. I felt warm and squishy from the time I woke up and until I finally fell asleep. And then it would start all over again. Sex had become a regular part of our life together as husband and wife.

Dr. Martha said that I had won an important internal battle against the boy within. She warned me that the fight would never be over, but that the woman inside me had taken the upper hand. She encouraged me to do whatever was necessary to keep my male side suppressed. The obvious question was how?

Dr. Martha told me to keep doing what I was doing. Be a wife to Dave and a mother to Cam and Gary. She said to be a friend to my mother. I was told to follow my bliss and just be happy.

Everyone who knew me recognized the change that had come over me. They said I looked more relaxed and confident. I had become very comfortable living my life as a woman.

I worked hard from the moment I woke up until the time I went to sleep, but I wasn't stressed about it. I knew that at the end of the day, every thing I had done to manage the house and keep my family happy would be appreciated.

I spent time with my mother and the other ladies when I wasn't busy running my household. I enjoyed their company and I loved spending time with my mother as her equal.

Being my mother's equal was an amazing feeling and I was so proud of myself for accomplishing it at such a young age. I hadn't turned 18 yet, but I looked and acted much older. Anyone who didn't know the truth about me would have suspect that I was in my early 30's because of the way I handled myself. Of course I'd patterned all of my behaviors after my mother.

The thing I remember most about this time in my life was that it was both guilt free and arousal free. I began to enjoy my life as a woman without feeling guilty about it or even being aroused by it. I was more turned on by my husband's kisses than I was by dressing femininely or smoking like a woman. I began to take those things for granted. I had become more than a cross-dresser with a smoking fetish. I was a wife, and a mother, a woman. That's how I thought of myself, and it was joyful and liberating.

******

As I said, having sex with Dave changed my life. For the most part, the change was welcome, but there were some repercussions.

I'm not saying my mother is a blabber mouth, but she did pass on a sanitized version to my father. Was it necessary? I don't know. I would think most fathers know their daughters have sex with their husbands without having to hear about it. I don't know why my mother felt the need to tell my father, but I think it was her way of justifying her decision to allow me to transition and start smoking at such a young age. She wanted my father to know I was happy.

Our father/son relationship had deteriorated one piece at a time from the moment he saw me wearing a dress when I was 12 years old. I went from being his son to his offspring. I know my father loves me but I also know there's only so much a man can take when it comes to his children. He has expectations for them, and I had failed to meet his expectations for me.

Dave Holsteader had been my father's best friend and I had been my father's son. These were very solid relationships for my dad. Relationships like that aren't supposed to change. But in our case, they did change.

Dad and Dave remained friends in the sense that my father was cordial to him, but its hard to enjoy a round of golf with a man who is fucking your son in the ass.

Losing my relationship with my father was the price I paid for building a relationship with my mother. That was the only black mark in my period of bliss.

Speaking of relationships, this is a good time to mention my relationship with Cam and Gary.

Gary had accepted me as a woman and his mother from the get-go. I looked and acted the part, so he accepted it. He needed a mom. He missed Dana so much and needed her so much, that he was willing to accept any kind of a substitute. I didn't have to work hard to gain his love and affection, but I treasured it all the same.

Cam struggled with our new relationship. And to be painfully honest, I struggled with it too. As boys, we had started our relationship as best friends and peers. If anything, he was the leader and I was the follower.

I think it would have been difficult for Cam to cope with a real woman coming in and taking his mother's place. But you can imagine how hard it must have been for him to cope with the idea of his former best friend taking his mother's place. The transition was difficult and awkward for me, but it was exponentially more difficult for him.

I didn't make it easy for him, at least not at first. He resented me for taking his mother's place in his father's bed. He resented me for wearing his dead mother's clothes. I even started using Dana's cigarette case. What was hers became mine.

I took the shock and awe approach with Cam after marrying his father. If I hadn't, he would have walked all over me. He didn't respect me, but he feared me because his father backed me up on all the decisions I made. If I said he was grounded for a week, then he was grounded for a week. In some ways I think I was drunk on the power.

Our relationship began to change when he got sick from flu. I began to mother him and he was too sick to resist me. Our relationship improved even more after I began having sex with his father on a regular basis, because I was happier and more confident in myself.

Our power struggle became a thing of the past because I became an adult woman in his eyes. He knew his place and I knew mine and we accepted each other's position in the pecking order. It was good for both of us.

*****

I was very excited about Christmas that year. The important thing was that we all had a lot to be thankful for. We had had good health and genuine love. Of course it didn't hurt that Dave was making good money at his job. I've been poor and happy and I've been financially well off and happy. The latter is much better, especially during Christmas.

I loved wearing Dana's Christmas clothes. They were so colorful and downright tacky! I mean who doesn't love a bright red and green sweater with a reindeer on the chest? I especially loved the sweaters that had bells on them. I thought it was seasonal to hear myself jingle when I walked.

I became a regular Suzie Home Maker over the Christmas holidays. I was baking cookies and cakes in the holiday apron that Dana used to wear. Our house smelled so wonderful. I made sure Dave and the boys decorated the outside of our house with lights while I took care of the interior decorations.

I spent days at the mall shopping for Christmas presents. Sometimes I'd go with my mother and sometimes I'd go by myself. People smiled at me as I walked by and I smiled back. I felt like I belonged. I felt like I was doing everything right.

Christmas music played through out the house during the day while I did my chores. At night, after dinner, we'd sit in the living room watching DVDs like the "The Christmas Story" and "Home Alone".

Christmas had always been my favorite time of the year but I enjoyed it even more as a mother and a wife. I looked forward to seeing the looks on the faces of my family as they opened the presents I had bought them.

Cam and Gary were both off from school because of the holidays. Dave had also taken his vacation. We were all together and our home was filled with noisy fun. Of course of some of the noise wasn't fun. Cam and Gary would often fight and bicker the way Tony and I had done when I was a boy. They'd fight over the silliest things, like who lost the television remote control or cordless phone.

The boys' grandparents arrived three days before Christmas- both sets. There was Dave's parents, Jack and Arlene. And there was Dana's parents, Joe and Margie. The Grandparents didn't know the truth about me and Dave and I asked the boys to keep it that way.

I liked the grandparents. I especially liked Joe and Margie. They missed their daughter, but they welcomed me and accepted me. And in return, I welcomed and accepted them. They were told that I had been a friend of Dana's, and that was the truth. I talked a lot about her to Joe and Margie.

I had a habit of waking up early, especially when the Grandparents were in the house. I felt the need to make a good impression by having the coffee ready. Margie beat me to the coffee pot on the morning of Christmas Eve. I found her sitting at the kitchen table, with a mug and a cigarette, looking through a family photo album.

Margie and I said good morning to each other and asked how the other had slept while I poured a cup of coffee for myself and joined her at the table.

"Just looking at pictures of Dana," said Margie as she followed the statement with a sip of coffee.

"She was a beautiful woman," I said as I opened my cigarette case and removed a Winston.

Margie nodded in the direction of my leather cigarette case. "I see you're using her case."

"Ahh...yes," I said, hoping my taking it hadn't offended her. "I'm sorry if it bothers you. I can put it away."

"Of course not sweetie. I'm sure Dana wanted you to have it, even if she wished you wouldn't have taken up the habit."

"I suppose so."

Margie's comment about Dana preferring that I not take up smoking made me paranoid.

"Look at this picture," said Margie as she pushed the photo album toward me. "You've certainly changed a lot since this picture was taken."

I suddenly felt flushed. My heart beat harder and my breathing became more shallow. I took a puff from my cigarette and inhaled deeply, hoping it would steady my nerves. The photograph had been taken at the Holsteader's cabin several years earlier, before I had begun to transition into Michelle.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I wasn't there when that picture was taken."

Margie exhaled the smoke from her cigarette and smiled sadly. "Its okay Mike. Your secret is safe with me."

Safe? I didn't feel safe. Who was to say Margie wouldn't out me in front of the other grandparents? Maybe they already knew.

"Does anyone else know," I asked?

Margie shook her head no. "Dana asked me to keep it between the two of us. She told me about the promise you made her; the one about getting together with Dave after she passed."

"I'm so sorry. You must think I'm a terrible person."

"Of course not honey! I think you're a wonderful person and you make a fine looking woman to boot. I've seen the way Dave and the boys are when you're in the room. They adore you and they love you. I'm very thankful to you and so is Dana."

"I don't know what to say. I feel so..."

"Naked and vulnerable," asked Margie?

"Yes! Very much so. I don't feel good at all," I said as I got up from the table.

"Please come back and sit down Michelle. I didn't tell you I knew because I wanted to upset you. I told you because I wanted for us to be friends- better friends than we were before this came up."

I nervously pulled out the chair and sat back down at the table. "You really don't hate me," I asked?

"How could I hate someone who meant so much to my daughter? I love you Michelle. I only said it because I wanted you to feel more comfortable around me."

"Okay," I said as I took a pull from my cigarette and inhaled. "I could always use another friend."

"And so could I," said Margie as she put out her cigarette and picked up her mug of coffee. "I'm amazed at what you've done, and I say that in a good way. By keeping your promise to Dana, I realize how much you've sacrificed. You gave up your childhood to take care of Dave and my grandchildren."

"It wasn't as hard as you think. I love them."

"And it shows," said Margie as she lit another cigarette for herself. She paused to exhale and then said, "Would you mind if I asked you a personal question? You don't have to answer it if you think its too personal."

"What is it?"

"I was curious about you and Dave. Do the two of you have sex? I was under the impression that you're what I think they call pre-op."

I nodded without answering right away. "I am as they say- pre-op. And yes. Dave and I do make love."

Margie smiled as she breathed a sigh of relief. "I was hoping you'd say that. Not the part about your being pre-op, but that you and Dave are intimate. He's such a good man and he deserves as much happiness as he can get. I know Dana would have wanted the two of you to be together like that. Thank you for telling me."

*****

I'm glad I was honest with Margie, but it cast a shadow over the rest of my Christmas. I was sorry for Margie that she had lost Dana. But by talking with me, she had tarnished the joyous illusion of womanhood I had come to enjoy.

On the day after Christmas, I stood on the driveway with the rest of my family and watched as the grandparents drove away, honking their horns as they waved.

They're nice people, but I was glad to see them go.

After Dana's mother leaves her feeling less than womanly, Michelle looks for a cure that will make her feel better about herself. Mike versus Michelle: Part 19 The Cure By Sharon Parsons

---

 
As I said earlier, I was glad to see the grandparents go home. The situation with Margie had left me depressed and questioning myself, even though she was sweet and had done nothing but give me compliments. I think I felt bad because she had reminded me that I wasn't 100% female. Even so, I did my best to shake off the feeling.

Cam and Gary had another week off from school before they had to go back after New Years, but Dave had to go back to work on the 27th. Of course he only had to work for a couple days before getting off for New Years. He and the boys were looking forward to watching the bowl games on TV. So was I.

I love college football! Watching football with my Dad had always been one of my favorite things to do, next to dressing up in my mother's clothes. Oddly enough, I had the best of both worlds. I was now free to put on a dress, light a cigarette, and watch the game. I could even drink a beer or a glass of wine if I was so inclined.

Dr. Martha said there wasn't anything wrong with enjoying the things I had once enjoyed as a boy. But she reminded me to enjoy them in moderation. Don't make a guy out of yourself, she'd say. Remember your priorities. My family was my priority and I couldn't afford to let them see me out of character.

****

Dave and I resumed our sex life immediately after the grandparents left. Its fair to say he wanted sex more than I did. My hesitation wasn't based on a lack of love for him. Dana was right about my growing to love Dave. I thought the world of him.

I never withheld sex from Dave and I put on a good front. I didn't see the need to burden him with my problems, because I thought my problems would leave with Margie.

Dr. Martha never said I'd be completely well. By completely well, she meant there would never be a time when I forgot my boy roots. Football bowl games on TV and having a penis between my legs, and the recent memory of my conversation with Margie made it very difficult to forget my boy roots. If anything, I was focusing on them.

****

One night, after we made love, I brought up the subject of sexual reassignment surgery (SRS). I asked Dave what he thought about it.

Not surprisingly, he answered my question with a question of his own. He asked if having a vagina was important to me.

I thought his answer was a cop-out and I told him so, but he disagreed. He said that with something like SRS, my wants and needs should come before his own.

I asked, "But wouldn't you be happier if I had a vagina?"

"Having a vagina wouldn't make me love you any more than I already do," said Dave.

"I know you love me, but I want you to be happy," I said. "There's a difference."

Dave took my chin in his hand and guided my eyes toward his. "I am happy," he said. "You make me very happy."

I pulled away and lit a cigarette for myself. I inhaled a puff and allowed the smoke to settle in my lungs before exhaling. "Doesn't it bother you that some people know we have sex and they know I have a penis?"

"Those same people aren't going to forget you were born a boy if you get SRS. You didn't answer my question honey. I'm already happy and I love you more than life itself. So we're not talking about what I need. I have what I need. We're talking about you. What do you need to be happy?"

"I don't know Honey. I actually think I was happy before I talked to Dana's mom."

"So what changed to make you unhappy?"

"I didn't say I wasn't happy. Its just that she reminded me that I'm really not the woman I thought I was. And that got me thinking about everything." I took a puff from my cigarette and exhaled toward the ceiling. "I don't know if you figured it out yet, but I'm not exactly what you'd call normal by any stretch of the imagination. I'm weird Dave. I really am."

"I know you have some issues..."

I laughed. "Issues? Yeah, I'll say."

"Let me finish," said Dave. "I know you have some issues with..., how should I say this?...with your imagination. You told me about the fantasies you had when you were younger. I understand that."

"You do?"

"Actually I do," said Dave. "You're not the only guy in the world whose ever had thoughts about things that aren't exactly conventional or traditional."

"Are you trying to tell me that you did the same thing when you were younger? You know, dressing up in your mother's clothes or something like that?"

"No. But I have wondered what it would be like to kiss another guy and basically do the kinds of things that we do together."

"Does that mean you think you're gay or bisexual?"

"No. But that's what I'm trying to say. You don't have to be a certain way to have certain thoughts about certain things. Everyone has thoughts. Its just that most people don't act on them, but you did."

"Did you really want to kiss another guy before you married me?"

"Not for real, I didn't. It was just something I wondered about. There's no harm in thinking about things from time to time."

"So when you kiss me; do you think you're kissing a guy, or am I woman to you?"

Dave didn't answer immediately and that made me worry.

"Our relationship is a lot more complex than me thinking of you as a boy or a woman. If you're looking for a short answer, I'll tell you that I think of you as a woman. But its not that simple. I've known you since you were a little boy. Like you said, I used to coach you in little league. Beside that, you're Cam's best friend. Or at least you were his best friend. Things like that have a way of complicating the situation. Don't you think?"

I finished off my cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. "So in other words, I guess you're saying it doesn't matter if I have a penis or a vagina, because you're always going to think of me as a boy."

"Don't say it like its a bad thing Michelle. It's just the way things are. But I want you to be happy. If getting a sex change is going to make you happy, then I think its something we should look into. So do you think that having a vagina would make you forget about your past?"

"No."

"But you're interested in getting one?"

I shook my head no as I picked up my cigarette case. "I didn't say I was interested. I just wanted to know what you thought about it."

"I know you've been depressed for the last couple days," said Dave as he took the lighter out of my hand and held the flame for me. "I was hoping you'd snap out of it. I hear a lot of people get the blues right after Christmas."

I reminded him that I was Bipolar and that my depression was a lot deeper than having the blues.

"I know," said Dave. "I didn't mean to make light of it. Its just that you never want to talk about it, so I called it the blues. Is it bad right now?"

I admitted that I didn't feel very well. "But its more than that," I said. "I feel real confused about who I am and what I want."

Dave's eyebrows rose up. "I see," he said. "Does that mean you're questioning your relationship with me and the boys?"

"Its not that I don't love you all, because I do. It's just that sometimes everything I'm doing just seems so crazy. Like right now, I'm wondering how everything got as far as it did. I was just playing around in my mom's clothes one day and I got caught. And look what happened," I said as I took one of his hands and placed it on my breasts. "I've got real boobs now. And look at this," I said as I held my cigarette up. "I'm a smoker and I can't quit. Its everything Dave. I'm your wife and Cam's mother and Gary's too, and I'm not even 18 yet."

"I love you Michelle. But if you're not happy..."

I covered his mouth with my hand. "Don't say it! I am happy and I love you. I don't ever want to leave you and I'd die if you ever left me. I'm just confused and sometimes, like right now, my brain doesn't work very well. And the weird thing is that I'll probably feel all better by tomorrow. But right now I want to cry. I know that probably doesn't make sense, but that's way I feel and it happens a lot."

"Maybe you should talk to Dr. Collins about changing your Symbyax prescription. Maybe she can put you on a higher dose, or change it to something else. Does she know you feel this bad?"

I shook my head no.

"You need to tell her Michelle."

I nodded and took a puff from my cigarette. "Okay. I'll tell her at my next appointment."

"I don't think you should wait until then. Will you do me a favor and call her tomorrow?"

"Okay," I said. "But I need a favor from you too."

"Anything Honey. Just say it and its yours."

"Will you make love to me?"

****

I thought about a lot of things while Dave made love to me. But it wasn't as if my mind was somewhere else. I was with him and we were in rhythm. As far as my state of mind was concerned, I was "experiencing" the act of Dave making love to me.

Did it physically hurt? No it didn't.

Did it physically feel good? Well it didn't feel bad. It felt weird. It was kind of like having to poop- but it wasn't painful.

I thought about my penis. It was slightly erect and I could feel it being mashed between our stomachs as he pushed in and pulled out. I wondered if he noticed it the way I did. It didn't feel natural to me. But it did feel familiar.

I wasn't sure if my penis was a friend or an enemy. I didn't know if I could live without it. But could I live with it? Could Dave? He said he could. But what about me? What did I want?

There had been times when I was somewhat disgusted when we made love. Of course it was a fleeting kind of disgust and it didn't stick to my ribs. It was nothing like the first time Dave made love to me. That had been vile, even though he'd done it lovingly.

I thought about Margie, Dana's mom. What would she think if she saw Dave and I like this?

I closed my eyes and went back in time. I saw myself as a boy. I think I was probably five or six, however old you are when you're in 1st grade. I saw myself in my parent's room, sitting on the edge of the bed as I watched my mother putting on her make-up.

I remembered how enthralled I was as I studied the way she smoked her cigarette. I could see her reflection in the mirror. She's so pretty, I thought. What would it be like to be like her? I wanted to know.

As my hips rocked back and forth beneath Dave's weight, I thought about my mother. I was so proud of her and I wanted so badly for her to be proud of me- but not as a boy.

I remembered thinking that Halloween would be my savior. I'd ask her if I could go as a girl. It was the perfect excuse. But Halloween came and went year after year without my asking.

I didn't get dressed up as a girl for Halloween, but I did get up the nerve to try on her clothes when I was in second grade. They were too big for me but I didn't care. I pretended I was pretty like her as I played in front of the mirror.

I kneaded my fingers into Dave's bare back as he plodded along. Sometimes I'd say his name and tell him how wonderful he was doing. And all the while he made love to me, I wandered through my past, trying to make sense of the things I'd done.

Everything I'd done had been done for fun. I did it because it felt good and because it made me feel excited and horny. I remember the feeling of my mother's pretty clothes against my skin and the thrill I got from pretending to be a woman like her. I remember wanting that feeling to last forever!

I can also remember never being satisfied. If only my hair was longer. Or if only I could fill the cups of my mother's bra. It was always something. And of course there was the cigarettes. I wasn't satisfied holding a pencil or an unlit cigarette. I wanted the real thing, even though that didn't come until later.

As Dave grunted and pushed, I tried to remember what I thought about guys in general. I'd always liked guys as friends. But I never really looked at one and said, hmmm, I wonder what it would be like to be with that cute guy. Of course that was when I was in boy mode. My thoughts were always more normal when I was in boy mode.

I thought about Dave's penis and the way if felt inside my bottom. I remembered the taste and feel of it when it was in my mouth. I recalled the ammonia type flavor of his sperm. As a boy, I'd never imagined have sex with another male. The idea was just too repulsive to think about. But I did think about men when I was dressed in my mother's clothes. It was okay to think about men when I felt and looked like a woman.

I could tell by the way he was grunting and pushing that Dave was close to having his orgasm.

"Come on baby. You can do it," I said. "Cum for me honey."

I opened my eyes in time to see the contorted and twisted expression on his face as he emptied his sperm into my bottom.

Did I love him? Did I? Without a doubt, I did. I was hopelessly in love with Dave Holsteader.

"I love you sweetheart," I said as he rolled off of me and onto his side.

"I love you too Michelle."

I sat up in bed and reached for Dana's cigarette case which was now mine. I thought about the conversations she had had with my mother about wishing she could quit. I remember thinking how strange that sounded to me. I couldn't understand why my mother or Dana would want to quit smoking when it made them look so sexy, beautiful, and powerful.

Of course I wasn't a smoker back then. I could only imagine what it must be like to be addicted to something so wonderful. In my mind, being addicted was a good thing, because that meant you couldn't quit.

Who'd want to quit? I wondered, as I pulled a cork-tipped Winston from the case and lit it. Me. That's who.

Everything about being a woman had looked so wonderful when I had been standing on the other side of the fence. But now that I had climbed the fence, things seemed very different.

I lit my cigarette and inhaled the smoke deep into my lungs before exhaling. I looked at Dave and smiled warmly. He was a good man and I was fortunate to have him as my husband.

"What are you thinking about," he asked?

"A lot of things."

"Like what?"

I blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. "Good things. Bad things. And questionable things."

"What's a good thing," asked Dave?

"You and the boys. I love the three of you more than I thought I could love anything or anybody."

"I like the sound of that," said Dave. "What kind of bad things were you thinking about?"

"These things," I said as I held the burning cigarette in front of me. "I'd give anything if I could quit them."

"Maybe you can," said Dave. "I did it."

I laughed as I exhaled. "And you gained almost 20 pounds," I said as I rubbed his round tummy. "I'll get fat if I quit. What would you rather have, a skinny wife that smokes or a fat one who doesn't?"

Dave grinned and patted my flat tummy. "I'm not going to answer that one," he said. "But what are the questionable things you were thinking about?"

"This," I said as I took hold of my penis and pulled it up. "I was wondering what it would be like not to have it."

Dave frowned. "You don't have to make any changes for me honey. I love you just the way you are."

"Are you sure?"

I watched as Dave reached between my legs and took my penis between two of his fingers and kissed it.

"Oh Dave!" I said as my penis grew erect. "I love you so much honey, but you don't have to do that."

Without saying anything, Dave lowered his mouth onto my penis and began sucking. I lifted the cigarette to my lips and enjoyed it as he brought me to orgasm.

****

I told Dr. Martha about the depression and guilt coming back with a vengeance. She agreed with Dave that it would be a good idea to increase my Symbyax dosage. We also talked about the possibility of my getting SRS.

Dr. Martha wasn't thrilled with the idea of my getting a complete sex change. However, she wasn't totally against it either. She said we should talk about it and that I should sleep on it and then we could talk about it some more.

She was afraid that I was trying to cover up my original problem by using SRS. She said SRS wasn't a cure for the problems that were plaguing me. She told me I couldn't deal with the root of the problem by changing the face of the problem.

I understood what she was saying. It all went back to my reasons for wanting to put on a dress in the first place.

I was and am a cross-dresser. I've never felt like I was in the wrong body. I don't feel the need to be a woman but I am obsessed with presenting myself as one and reveling in the experience. I did what I did because it was the path of least resistance as far as my urges were concerned. By marrying Dave, I had created a feminine world where I could safely act on my urges.

"SRS is evasive, expensive, painful, and permanent," said Dr. Martha. "Its a cure for some transgendered people, but its not a cure for you."

"Does that mean you don't want me to get it," I asked?

"It doesn't matter what I want. I'm just here to advise you. SRS isn't going to kill you. Its physically safe, so I'm not concerned with your physical well being in regard to the surgery. I'm more concerned about your state of mind and how you'll emotionally respond to the change."

Dr. Martha said that I should only proceed with the surgery if I felt confident that having a vagina would improve the quality of my life.

"But how will I know that unless I do it," I asked?

"You won't," said Dr. Martha. "You'll have to trust your instinct when it comes time to make the decision. That's why I want you to think about it and re-think it. There's no such thing as a sure bet. Life is a gamble, but some wagers are better than others."

I left her office with plenty of food for thought and I quickly invited my mother to join me at the buffet.

*****

My mother wasn't surprised that I expressed an interest in getting SRS. She was just surprised that I had taken so long to consider it. Unlike Dr. Martha or Dave, who had both taken a stance of indifference, my mother thought it was a fabulous idea. She hugged me and cried when I told her I was thinking about it.

I love, adore, and look up to my mother. She has always been the most influential person in my life. As you know, I patterned my own life after hers.

I wouldn't be the woman I am today if it wasn't for my mother. That statement is true, but its also laced with sarcasm.

My mother was and is an enabler. I am a cross dressing sex addict with a smoking fetish. Together we make quite a pair. She enabled me by making it relatively easy to satisfy my urges.

Mom helped me put on a dress. She helped me get breasts. She helped me start smoking. She helped me stretch my anus by getting me a dildo. She helped me get married at 17 by signing a permission slip for the judge. She helped me replace my penis with a vagina.

My mother was an enthusiastic enabler and Dr. Martha was the referee. But I am the one who was and is ultimately responsible for the final decisions and the consequences of those decisions.

Dr. Martha had asked me to think on it and sleep on it and rethink the question of SRS over and over before making a decision. Three months would pass before I officially went forward with trying to obtain the surgery. It would be another year and two months before that decision evolved into a vagina. But it did happen, and I made the decision to get the surgery within five minutes of discussing it with my mother.

I'll never forget the exhilaration I felt as I sat at my mother's kitchen table with her. She was wearing a skirt and I was wearing a dress. We were both smoking cigarettes. She was so happy and excited for me as I told her that I was just thinking about SRS.

That urge of wanting to be just like her swooped over me. Damn the future and Damn the consequences. Just give me what I want and give it to me now.

But some things take time. Mom said good things come to those who wait. She also said that sometimes you have to take the bull by the horns. Mom said a lot of things but she always told me what I wanted to hear.

---

 

The story of Mike versus Michelle concludes with this chapter. It takes place about a year and a half after the last chapter and picks up after Michelle's SRS. Mike versus Michelle: Part 20 Baltimore Blues:The Final Chapter By Sharon Parsons

---

 

I was three months shy of my 20th birthday the first time Dave and I made love with my new vagina. For him it was wonderful, or so he said. For me it was a milestone.

I had made the decision to have SRS with little or no debate. Of course I pretended to debate it, but my mind had been made up. I didn't take any shortcuts though when it came to the surgery. I had it done in Baltimore. Mom and Dave went with me. We did it while Cam was on break from college so that he could watch Gary.

Cam and Gary both knew why I was going to Baltimore and they supported my decision to do it. Gary was 12 when I had it done. He made sure I knew he loved me no matter what kind of surgery I got or didn't get. He was and is my son and I am his mother.

I had said all the right things and told everyone what they wanted to hear in the months leading up to the surgery. I could have backed out and people would have understood. They would have loved me anyway.

I did what I did because I wanted to do it. Of course I did get a lot of encouragement from my mother, but in the end, it was my decision. I don't blame anyone for my life, but I do give credit where credit is due. She was proud of me and I thrived on her pride.

Being Bipolar played a big part in how I felt about my life. My feelings about it would change on a monthly basis. Sometimes my emotions would cycle faster than that and I would experience mood swings on a weekly basis. It wasn't unusual for me to cycle on a daily basis either. Even though I was taking my medication regularly, I couldn't forecast my emotions with any degree of accuracy. That's how I got the nick name- Dr. Jeckyll and Mrs. Holsteader.

*****

Dr. Martha was wrong about SRS not being a cure. Losing my testicles cured me of all my sex addictions. The thrill I got from wearing pretty clothes and smoking like a woman went right out the door with the doctor who gave me a vagina.

SRS had freed me from the bonds of my sexual addiction! You'd think I'd be happy about it, but I wasn't. I felt as if I'd lost something as integral as my sense of smell or taste. Talk about anti-climatic and unrewarding.

SRS hadn't relieved me of my addiction to cigarettes. I was smoking more than ever and I was getting nothing in return for the damage I was inflicting on my body.

SRS didn't change my wardrobe. I was still wearing women's clothes, but the thrill I got from wearing them was moot.

SRS didn't make conventional intercourse pleasurable for me. It just gave Dave an extra place to put his penis.

I was disappointed in the end result of my SRS, but I didn't tell that to my mother or Dave. I put on my best happy face for them and saved my sad face for Dr. Martha.

Dr. Martha could have said, "I told you so," but she didn't. As a matter of fact, I think she was as surprised as I was over the loss of my sexual addictions.

She understood the ramifications of what had happened and she was sympathetic, but she couldn't give me the thrill back.

SRS was a death sentence for the boy named Mike who used to reside within me. I mourned his loss every time I saw Cam with his girlfriend. I was jealous of him, but oddly enough, I still loved him as my son.

SRS brought my mother and I closer to each other. She was so happy for me, because I'd finally gotten my wish to be just like her. I was just like her! Oh my God. I was just like my mother.

"Isn't it wonderful Michelle?"

"Yes Mom. It is," I said as I lit a cigarette.

The story of Mike versus Michelle picks up and ends three years after Michelle's SRS. Mike versus Michelle: Epilogue By Sharon Parsons

---

 

My name is Michelle Holsteader. I'm 23 years old. I'm married with two stepsons. Cam, my oldest is 23, the same age as me. Gary is 15 and Dave, my husband, is 47. Dave and I have been married for 6 years.

The most unusual thing about me is that I'm a woman. Most people would read the first paragraph and just assume that I'm female. I am of course, but it wasn't always that way.

My name used to be Mike and I used to be a boy. My mother bought me my first dress when I was 12 years old and my life has never been the same since. I wrote about the experience and you can look it up if you want to. Its called "Mike versus Michelle". It tells how I went from dressing up in my mother's clothes to getting a full sex change operation.

I'm not the first woman who began her life as a boy and I won't be the last. The interesting thing about my situation is that it wasn't actually necessary for me to get a full blown sex change. I never felt like I was born into the wrong body and I wasn't exactly homosexual either. Of course as a general rule, sexuality doesn't play a huge role in whether someone is a man or a woman. Its just a lot more traditional and conventional when men fall in love with women and vice versa.

I did what I did because it was thrilling and exciting. You see, ever since I was a little boy, I got a rise out of pretending to be like my mother. I wanted to dress like her and act like her and smoke like her. Being like her was a sexually charged fantasy for me. I never expected or wanted it to be real. But one thing led to another and opportunities began to present themselves. I took them all one by one. Each thing I did made me more and more like my mother. I began taking female hormones and started smoking when I was 14. I got breast implants when I was 15. I got married when I was 17. And I got SRS when I was 19. My husband and I had traditional penis/vagina intercourse for the first time when I was 20.

I made a lot of questionable decisions along the way and have regretted all of them at one time or another. Some have faded with time while others are still with me. I'm often asked if I would change anything I've done if I had it to do over again.

I'm not the smartest person in the world. I didn't go to college but I know a lot about life. I know that everything we do today will affect who we will become tomorrow. And everything we did yesterday made us into who we are today. With that in mind, its hard to pick and choose from the things I've done and question whether or not I should have done them.

I'm convinced that I wouldn't be the woman I am today if I had done anything differently. I don't subscribe to the theory that all things happen for a reason, but I do believe we're as happy as we make up our minds to be.

I wish this and I wish that but in the end I've learned to live with the final result, even though I know nothing is ever final until death. And even then, finality is debatable. I guess what I'm trying to say is; I'm happy with my life. There are times when I wonder what my life would have been like if my mom had never caught me wearing her clothes. But when I'm done wondering, I get down on my knees and thank God that she did catch me.

There was a time in my life when I wished I'd never been born. It lasted for almost a year and coincided with my SRS. The source of my pain and anguish was both mental and physical. The loss of my testicles reduced the amount of endorphins produced by my pituitary gland. That had a domino affect on my serotonin levels. Basically speaking, I was depressed and unable to have orgasms. The surgery left me steeped in remorse.

So what happened to change things? The short answer is that I grew up.

Up until I had SRS, my life as a woman had been a sham. I had been role playing and enjoying it very much. I played the part of wife and mother the way I'd seen my mother do it. The thing is, my mother wasn't playing a role. She was and is the real thing.

I appreciate everything Dr. Martha did for me, and I don't want to de-emphasise her contributions to my welfare. But my mother was the person who helped me make the most out of the situation I had created.

I turned on her a couple of times after the surgery and for that I'm very sorry. As I said earlier, I was emotionally dead and remorseful. It was easier to blame her for the way I felt than it was to blame myself. After all, if it hadn't been for her, if I hadn't loved her as much as I did, I never would have tried on her clothes in the first place. And as long as I'm casting out the blame, I probably never would have started smoking if I hadn't idolized her the way I did. And I certainly wouldn't have become sexually involved with a grown man.

I spent the first five or six months after my SRS blaming her and being angry with her. She could have turned her back on me. After all, I wasn't her responsibility. I was married and on my own. But instead of turning her back on me, she befriended me.

My mom has this irritating habit of bringing up the past. She'd say things like, do you remember when...or do you remember that. Of course I remembered! I wasn't soft in the head. Most of the time I'd lose my patience with her, but one time I didn't.

We were having lunch at her house when she brought out the photo album from mine and Dave's wedding.

"Do you remember when the photographer took this?" she asked as she pointed at a page in the album.

It was a picture of Dave lighting my cigarette for me while my mother was standing in the background.

I shook my head and looked away. "That's the tackiest wedding picture I've ever seen in my life. I should have killed that photographer when he took it. Why did you buy it anyway?"

"You used to love this picture," said my mom. "It was your favorite."

"That was when I was young and stupid," I said angrily as I pulled a Winston from my leather cigarette case and fired it up. "I wish I had listened to you when you told me not to smoke."

"We all make mistakes," said my mother as she gingerly removed a long white Virginia Slim cigarette from her case and held it delicately between two fingers while lighting it. "But if its any consolation, you look very pretty when you smoke."

"Thanks, I guess. So do you think I made a mistake?"

Mom smiled softly. "About the smoking or about getting the surgery?"

"The surgery. I know the smoking was a mistake."

Mom maintained eye contact while taking a pull from her cigarette. She followed her inhale with an exhale and then leaned forward to trim her ash. "You didn't make a mistake sweetheart. I honestly believe with all my heart that being a woman is the best thing for you."

It wasn't her answer that surprised me. It was the way in which she said it. She made it sound more like a fact than an opinion.

"Really?"

Mom nodded yes. "Absolutely. From the day you were born, I thought you were too pretty to be a boy."

"But that doesn't mean I should have been a girl."

"I wasn't finished," said my mother. "I know you better than you think I do. As a matter of fact, I think I know you better than you know your self. Trust me honey. You did the right thing. I know this is probably going to hurt your feelings to hear it, but you didn't have what it takes to be a real man. Believe me, a woman knows these kinds of things."

Mom paused to take a puff from her cigarette and then she continued. "I never came right out and said it, but I was thrilled when I found out you were dressing up in my clothes and that you wanted to be like me. In my heart of hearts, I knew that becoming a woman would be your ticket to having a happy and meaningful life."

I sat there shocked and speechless. My mother had dropped a bomb that had obliterated any sense of male ego that the surgery might have missed. She was sitting there telling me that my life would have been worthless as a man. She said I didn't have what it takes to be a real man.

"I know this is hard for you to hear. And I love you so much that it kills me to have to hurt you. I wish you could have figured this out for your self, and I thought you did. That's why I thought you had the surgery."

"You don't think I had what it takes to be a man?"

"No honey," said my mother as laid a hand on my shoulder. "Not a real man like your father or Dave. But I always knew you had what it takes to be a real woman."

"Like you," I asked?

Mom nodded. "Is that so bad? I thought you wanted to be like me."

"I did," I said as I stubbed out the remainder of my Winston in the ashtray and reached for my mother's cigarette case. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not honey."

"Thanks," I said as I removed a long white cigarette from her pack of Virginia Slims and placed it between my lips. After lighting it, I held it between my fingers and admired the red lipstick stains on the white filter. "You're right. I did want to be like you. I thought it would be so fun and glamorous."

"You know," I said as I rolled the cigarette between my fingers and manipulated my fingers into a feminine position, "I used to dream about moments like this when I was a little kid."

"About getting dressed up and smoking with me," asked Mom?

I nodded my head and took a puff from the Virginia Slim.

"I did the same thing with my mother."

"I know. You told me."

"You don't have to pretend any more," said my mother. "And you don't have to feel bad about it either. As a matter of fact, you can even enjoy it if you want, and I hope you do."

I lifted the feminine cigarette to my lips and took the time to experience the difference between my mother's Virginia Slims and the Winstons I had been smoking. "I like these," I said. "I like them a lot."

Mom grinned knowingly. "Then you should start smoking them again. There's nothing wrong with smoking like a woman when you really are a woman," she said.

For the first time since the surgery, I felt at peace with myself. It was as if my mother had brokered a truce among all the emotions that were taking up space in my head.

"This is really nice," I said. "Being here with you like this."

"I know. I'm enjoying it too," she said as she lit another Virginia Slim for herself. "Do you have time for another cup of coffee. I can make another pot."

******

I think that if I were to lay my life out on a timeline, that day with my mother would be the first day of my life as Michelle. Everything that came before that point in my life was important and played a vital role in the person I would become. But it was on that day with my mother that I accepted myself for who I am and for who I've always wanted to be. I discovered that getting what you always wanted can indeed be a wonderful thing.

The first thing I did upon leaving my mother's house was to drive to a convenience store and buy a carton of Virginia Slims.

A young man, who looked to be about Cam's age, jumped up from his chair when I came in the store. He was a nice looking boy and he looked very familiar to me. I placed his face as soon as he asked if he could help me. It was Frank Rodriguez, my former best friend. By the way he was looking me up and down, I could tell he hadn't recognized me.

Unlike Cam, Frank hadn't done well in school. There was no college for him. I looked over at where he'd been sitting and saw a Super Man comic book and a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Frank must have taken up smoking. I thought it was strange because he didn't seem the type.

I asked Frank to get me a carton of Virginia Slims.

"Soft pack or purse pack," he asked?

"Purse pack."

"Menthol or regular?"

"Regular, please...the full flavor kind."

"Yes Ma'am," he said as he took a knee and pulled a carton from the lower shelf. "I smoke the regular kind too. Menthol is kind of gross. Don't you think?"

"You smoke Virginia Slims?"

Frank blushed as he laid the carton on the counter. "No ma'am. I meant regular as in the flavor. I smoke Marlboros," he said as he pointed at his pack.

I shook my head and bit my lip. "That's a shame. You look to young to be smoking."

"I'm 21," he said nervously.

"That's still too young to smoke. My son is the same age and I'd have a fit if he ever started," I said as I removed my debit card from my purse. "But of course he's smarter than that. He goes to the University of Connecticut."

"Yes Ma'am," he said as he rang up my purchase.

I asked him if his mother knew he was smoking as I entered my pin number into the key pad.

By the way he hesitated, I knew he was lying as he said she did.

"That's funny, because I think I know your mother. Her name is Denise, isn't it?"

Frank's eyes grew big and his jaw dropped. He pleaded for me not to tell her.

"You still live at home. Don't you?" I asked as I picked up the carton of Virginia Slims.

"Yes Ma'am."

I shook my head and bit my lip. "Your mother always said you were a good for nothing loser. And I think I'm beginning to see what she means. Have a nice day little man."

He said nothing as I turned and walked out of the store. When I was sure he couldn't see me, I broke into a big smile. I still remembered his phone number from back when we were kids. I promised myself I'd call his mom when I got home. Such a loser, I thought as I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home.

****

I remember holding my head up high as I let myself into the house. I can even remember the sound of my heels as they clicked against the hardwood floor as I walked into the kitchen to start dinner.

Gary was still at school, Dave was still at work, and Cam was away at college. I was alone in the house with myself, but for the first time since the surgery, I didn't feel lonely.

The conversation with my mother had thawed my heart and opened my mind. But I was also raw from her blistering evaluation of my prior manhood. I could look at it two ways. I could feel humiliated or I could feel like I traded the booby prized for the grand prize and the grand prize had boobies.

I touched my breasts and smiled at my pun. Mom was right. Most of the decisions I had made were right. I was justified in doing what I had done. There was no reason to feel bad about it. But there were plenty of reasons to rejoice!

I lit a cigarette and thought about Dave. There was no doubt in my mind that he found me attractive. But the attraction had always been a one way street, and if it did go two ways, my lane had always been narrow.

I closed my eyes and recalled an image of his naked body. His body wasn't unattractive as far as middle aged men were concerned, not that I'd ever seen any other older man naked. He had a bit of paunch and the hairs on his chest and scrotum were turning gray. But it was his penis that had always concerned me.

Before my surgery we both had penises. But his was the bigger and more important of the two. His was valid and mine was more like an afterthought. I'd never discussed it with him but I had talked about it with Dr. Martha.

Dr. Martha said my male ego was in competition with Dave's. She said I was jealous of his penis because of the way he used it on me. Sex had always been about Dave's penis rather than mine. He was the sticker and I was the stuck.

I didn't want to feel that way any more. I wanted to surrender and submit. He is the man and I am the woman, I thought. He has the penis and I have the vagina, and together we are one.

I felt as if the weight of the world had been removed from my shoulders. My identity was no longer an issue because I knew exactly who and what I was. I was a woman and I was normal.

Normal?

Yes! Absolutely! I was normal in every way. I wasn't perfect and I still had my flaws, but so does everyone. Its the flaws and imperfections that make us charming.

****

Two years have passed since I had my epiphany. My life as a woman has been nothing short of spectacular- at least in my mind.

As a family we've hit a few road blocks along the way, but we've always managed to get around them.

Dave lost his job but he found a new one. It pays a little bit less but he's home more, so I like that.

Cam graduated from college and landed a great job making almost as much money as Dave. My only problem with him is his personal life. He's fallen head over heels in love with an older woman named Peggy. I don't know what he sees in her, but Dave and I do our best to keep our lips shut tight. Dave says that if we ignore the problem, it might go away by it self.

Last but not least is Gary. He's a good boy and he never gets in trouble but he seems bothered. Dave and I have both tried to talk with him but he insists there's nothing wrong and everything is fine. I hope that's the case, but if its not, I hope he trusts Dave and I enough to let us help him.

The End