My name is Claire Olivia Milton. Or at least… It used to be.

I was born on 2nd March 1990, the second daughter of three, to two loving parents. My father is a manager at a big investment firm, my mother- 15 years his junior- was his secretary until she fell in love with him, got married and had three kids. Growing up I wanted for nothing- I lived in a big house, was spoiled rotten, went to the best schools… And yet, from a very young age I knew something was wrong, not with my family, but with me.

When I say ‘wrong’ I of course mean ‘amiss’, something ‘off’ about me. My older sister, Emma, is very much her father’s daughter. Academically successful- straight As in her exams, head girl at school- she took an interest in our father’s work from a young age and is set to follow our father into a very lucrative career. My younger sister, Rebecca, is the apple of our father’s eye. She studied all varieties of dance from an early age, sang in the school choir and is a talented jockey too (riding a horse the family owns, of course). I… Did none of those things. Don’t get me wrong, I did well at school- particularly at languages and music- but I was hardly the teacher’s pet, nor was I interested in other performing arts or sports.

Nor did I enjoy school that much. Like my sisters, I went to an expensive private school, and every day I’d dress in the school uniform and feel utterly RIDICULOUS. My hair was held back by a burgundy coloured hair band, and I’d wear a matching blazer and grey knee-length pleated skirt with itchy knee-high socks regardless of the weather. Every day I went home, I would race upstairs as fast as I could to change into a comfortable pair of jeans. PE was even worse- if I wasn’t wearing a netball dress that was seemingly designed to make it easier for paedophiles to get their kicks just by looking at me, it was a gymnastics leotard that did the trick even more successfully.

All throughout childhood, everything felt a little ‘off’. Then, when I was thirteen, I went through puberty- and things got infinitely worse.

Imagine waking up one day and feeling that your body was attacking you. Imagine developing an overwhelming urge to tear your own skin off, you’re in that much psychological pain from what you’re experiencing. My parents told me that it was normal- that I was turning into a woman. It was at that exact moment that a switch flipped in my brain. I’d suspected previously what was wrong, but this confirmed it. I was turning into a woman, and I didn’t want to. I didn’t even want to be female. More than anything, anything at all… I wanted to be a boy.

I’d always been somewhat tomboyish. I didn’t have much of an interest in sports but I loved watching motor racing- particularly Formula One- on television. I had dolls and dress-up clothes growing up, but I much preferred playing video games. My hair never grew beyond shoulder length, and I never developed ANY interest in cosmetics, whereas my sisters would play with make-up from an early age. My parents convinced themselves- and to a lesser extent, myself- that it was just a phase, that I’d grow out of it, but puberty just strengthened my feelings. Every day that I was turning into a woman was a day in hell for me. But I endured it, endured the constant torture my body put me through every morning. I tried various coping strategies, such as dressing more masculine, keeping my hair cut short, making more male friends at school and taking an interest in their hobbies. I immersed myself in my music, became highly proficient at guitar and keyboards, wrote songs, even recorded them- but every song I sang, I wished I was singing in a deeper voice. I exercised, went running- but always wished I could run faster, wished my body was physically stronger. The coping strategies worked… Right up until my sixteenth birthday.

For my birthday, my mother took me and my sisters (who at the time were 18 and 10) out for a day of pampering. My hair- which was short at the time- was styled into a very feminine pixie cut. My face was expertly made-up, my nails manicured… And every second of it felt like torture. I felt uncomfortable, even foolish. I’d tried to get out of it by faking a cold, but my mum insisted, after all- in her words- ‘my sisters were really looking forward to it’. Never mind what I wanted, of course.

I arrived home and changed into the party dress that had been laid out for me, and the brand new high-heeled shoes. Once I was all dressed up, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. It was like I’d been punched in the stomach, I couldn’t breathe, I could barely stand up. All I wanted to do was scream, tear the clothes from my body, and tear the skin from my flesh. My mind snapped- I pulled the shoes and the dress off and hurried into my en-suite bathroom, where I scrubbed my face clean of make-up and scratched off the dreaded nail polish. I slicked my feminine hairstyle back, exposing my bare forehead, and I said the four words that would change my life.

“I. Am. A. Boy.” That was the moment- as far as I’m concerned, anyway- that Claire ceased to exist. Defiantly, I slipped off my bra, and using a roll of masking tape I had on my dresser, taped my breasts down as flat as they would go. I took off my nasty, sweaty tights and rolled a pair of black socks up my legs, before pulling on a smart pair of black trousers. I pulled on a smart white shirt- technically a blouse, due to the way the buttons fastened, but opaque, like a man’s shirt- and fastened my school tie (the only tie I owned) around my neck. I pulled on a pair of lace-up school shoes- the most androgynous shoes I owned- and looked at myself in the mirror. Aside from a few stray flakes of red on my fingernails- and my unfortunately ‘cute’ shaped face- I was every bit the handsome teenage boy.

"I. Am. A Boy." I repeated to myself as I took a deep breath. What I was doing wasn't just an act of defiance, it was out and out rebellion against the two people who raised me for the last sixteen years, and the consequences could be dire. But the consequences of being a girl just one minute longer... I didn't even want to contemplate them. As far as I was concerned, the switch had been flipped. From now on, it was boy or bust.

“I’m ready,” I said in my deepest possible voice as I strode downstairs, exuding an air of confidence but inside, I was utterly terrified. The looks of shock on my parents’ faces did nothing to help my nerves.

“Claire…” Mum whispered. “What- what have you done to yourself?”

“Where the hell is your dress!?” Dad yelled. “Do you know how much that thing cost!?”

“I don’t care how much it cost,” I said, my lips trembling despite my defiance. “I’m not wearing dresses any more, or skirts, or anything like that. I’m not a girl, I’m a boy.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Dad spat. “Now get upstairs and get dressed! NOW!”

“NO!” I yelled in the older man’s face, desperately trying not to wet myself through fear. “I can’t live like that anymore! You can’t make me!”

“You’re my daughter, and oh yes I can make you!” Dad growled, looming threateningly over me.

“Then go ahead!” I shouted. “Make me!” I braced myself for pain as dad raised a hand in front of me.

“Ray!” Mum yelled. “Stop this!” Much to my relief, dad stood down, though the look of sheer hatred with which he pierced me still haunts me to this day.

“Emma, Becca, go to your rooms,” dad ordered. Meekly, my sisters obeyed. “Kitchen, now.” Still hoping to maintain some control of the situation, I nodded my head, and followed my parents into the kitchen. Much to my relief, dad didn’t yell in my face the instant I entered the room, though his anger was obvious.

“Precisely what the hell do you mean, ‘you’re a boy’?” He asked me through gritted teeth.

“I mean exactly that,” I said. “Every day I wake up and I’m a girl I feel like screaming. I feel like my body’s actually trying to kill me and every time I do anything feminine I feel like I’m falling down a black hole. But when I’m like this, when I’m being a boy… I feel comfortable. It’s like a security blanket, like I can pretend for one, blissful moment that it’s actually real.”

“Claire...” Mum whispered. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“Seriously? After the reaction I just got?” I said, making dad lower his head in shame.

“What’s changed?” Dad asked, his anger finally giving way.

“I just couldn’t take any more,” I sighed, trying desperately not to cry. “I looked at myself in the mirror, in my dress… And I felt like I was going to die, right then and there. I just snapped.”

“Well you can’t go back to school on Monday as a boy,” dad snorted.

“And why not?” Mum asked, placing a supportive arm around my shoulders. “HE has made it quite clear that HE can’t handle life as a girl any more. If HE wants to be a boy… Then we should accept that. We’ll call the headmaster on Monday, explain that Claire’s ill, that we need to meet with him to explain the situation.”

“It’s only three months until her- oh, I suppose his- GCSEs anyway, why bother?” Dad asked.

“How would you like being forced to be a woman for three months?” I asked sarcastically.

“Okay then,” dad sighed. “We’ll call the headmaster on Monday. Christ, here I am hoping for an easy life as I get to retirement age…”

“It’s hardly a walk in the park for me,” I quipped, earning myself a disdainful stare from dad. “You wouldn’t like being forced to be a woman for three months, and rightly so. Try living with it for sixteen years.” Almost immediately, dad’s frown disappeared.

“This is going to be a hell of a thing to try to explain to everyone at work,” dad moaned self-pityingly. “But I guess what’s most important is what Claire wants. It’s her life, after all. ‘His’ life, whatever. And I suppose we’re going to have to call you something other than ‘Claire’, right?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I confessed. “Clarke? That’d make me sound like a wanker…” Much to my relief, both mum and dad laughed at my joke. I tried to brainstorm some names when we were interrupted by a knock on the kitchen door.

“Hi,” Emma said cautiously, clutching her laptop. “Can- can I come in?”

“Of course,” mum said. Emma took a seat next to me and opened her laptop, showing me the webpages she’d loaded onto it.

“I think,” Emma said softly, “that Claire might have a case of gender dysphoria. I’ve been looking it up online, it’s a real thing and can be diagnosed by a doctor.”

“We’ll add the doctor to the list of people to call on Monday, then,” dad said.

“There are also plenty of websites and support groups available online,” Emma said. “Claire… If this is really a big deal for you, you don’t need to suffer alone.”

“How are we going to explain this to Becca?” Dad wondered aloud. “Surely we can’t simply say ‘your sister is now your brother’? She’s much too young to understand that…”

“She’s 11 next month, she’s not an infant,” I said firmly. “When I was 11, I knew that there were people who lived their life as the opposite gender to the one they were born. That woman who won Eurovision, the one who won Big Brother…”

“Yeah, but they’re not members of our family,” dad pointed out.

“I’ll talk to her first, explain everything” I said confidently, before taking a deep breath and standing up. “No time like the present…”

“I’ll come with you,” Emma said. “I’ll be just outside in case you need any support.”

“Thanks,” I said nervously as we climbed the stairs together.

“Not a problem,” Emma said, before giggling. “Bruv!” Taking a deep breath, I knocked on my baby sister’s bedroom door and let myself in.

“Hi,” I said quietly to the young girl, who was sat on the bed, still wearing her party dress.

“Hi,” Becca said. “Claire… Are you going to have a sex change?”

“I- I don’t know,” I confessed. “But I probably am, yeah.”

“Why don’t you want to be a girl anymore?” Claire asked, her voice not sad, but inquisitive.

“It’s not a sudden decision,” I said, sitting down next to her. “Imagine… Imagine if you woke up tomorrow, but the body you were in wasn’t your own. Imagine if you had to live life as someone completely different, and deep down inside, you knew it was wrong. That’s what it feels like every day for me. I don’t love you, or Emma, or mum and dad any less. I’M the one who needs to change, not you or anyone else.”

“Do- do you wish I was also a boy?” Becca asked, and to my shame, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“No, of course not!” I said, giving my little sister a quick hug. “You be whatever you want to be.”

“Are you still going to be called Claire? Because that’s a girl’s name…” Becca pointed out, making me laugh again.

“Yes, yes it is,” I said with a smile on my face. “I haven’t actually thought of a new name yet.”

“I used to have an imaginary friend,” Becca said. “I used to pretend he was my big brother. I always wanted a big brother.”

“What was his name?” I asked.

“Stuart,” Becca said.

“Then that’s what I’ll be called,” I said proudly. “Stuart Milton. Nice to meet you, Becca.”

“Nice to meet you, Stuart!” Becca said happily, shaking my hand before giving me another tight hug.

“You can come in now, Emma,” I yelled, prompting my big sister to come into the room and join in the group hug.

As promised, I was kept out of school the following week, my parents citing ‘illness’. I saw my GP that week, who referred me to a counsellor who didn’t take much time to diagnose me with a case of gender dysphoria and start me on a course of hormone replacement therapy. Upon meeting with my headmaster, he agreed to several compromises to allow me to continue attending school. I would wear trousers- even though the uniform guide stated that girls HAD to wear skirts- and wouldn’t take part in any PE lessons until the end of term, and if I needed to use the toilet, I’d use the staff toilet. The headmaster was understandably concerned that he was indulging a ‘whim’- but when my parents made it clear that this was being discussed VERY seriously, he became only too happy to oblige. Even a school as prestigious and expensive as his couldn’t run the risk of being accused of transphobia. Of course, I was still addressed as ‘Claire’ rather than ‘Stuart’- at least until I was able to change my name by deed poll over the summer- but it was a small price to pay to finally live the life I’d always wanted to lead. I didn’t really have any female friends at school- I mostly hung around with boys- so the change there wasn’t as pronounced as it was at home.

Over the course of the summer between finishing school and starting at my music college, everything changed dramatically. My wardrobe was cleaned out- most of my dresses and skirts were earmarked for Becca, when she got older, but a lot of it went straight in the bin or to a charity shop. My underwear drawer saw the most dramatic makeover. Whilst I’d still have to wear a bra until my double mastectomy the following summer, my panties were replaced by boxer shorts, my tights and lacy socks were replaced by plain black cotton socks. The dress I wore on my sixteenth birthday would turn out to be the last item of female clothing I would ever wear.

My body changed dramatically under the influence of the testosterone supplements I took. My hips and backside got smaller, whilst my muscles suddenly grew. My skin- previously smooth and soft- became tougher, with body hair quickly growing and covering my body. Most excitingly of all, I started to grow light, wispy facial hair that I was very reluctant to shave, until dad insisted on teaching me how to. Despite his initial resistance, dad quickly grew to love having a son, and we’d take part in father-son activities almost every weekend, including an especially exciting weekend at the British Grand Prix one year! Following three years on hormones, my double mastectomy and a hysterectomy, the only way you’d ever have been able to tell that I was ever a girl was by pulling down my boxer shorts.

I went to university in September 2008, studying music at the University of Nottingham, and I graduated in 2011 with a 2:1. My parents and my sisters were in attendance at my graduation, and had mile-wide smiles on their faces as they had their photographs taken with me in my cap and gown. Probably the most proud was Becca, who by that time was sixteen years old, and a dead ringer for how I looked when I started to be Stuart.

“I’m so proud of you!” Becca yelled as she gave me a tight hug. “Look at you, Mr. Graduate!”

“Thanks,” I said, still feeling a little emotional following the end of my studies.

“Soo,” Becca teased, “did you meet anyone nice at uni? Any GIRL take your fancy?”

“That’d… Kinda raise some awkward questions,” I said with a laugh. Prior to my transition, I hadn’t really had any thoughts either way about sex, either with boys or with girls, but as the testosterone took its hold, I found myself more and more attracted to girls, and more and more in need of sex. Of course, the university had a healthy LGBT society, of which I was a part, and I did have dates- and the odd sexual encounter- with girls, but I didn’t have anyone you’d describe as a ‘girlfriend’

“How about you?” I asked Becca with a laugh. “Anyone I have to beat up for breaking your heart yet?”

“As if dad would let me see anyone!” Becca laughed. “Haven’t you noticed yet?” I stopped and looked at my non-longer little younger sister, who had a very sly smile on her made-up face.

“Noticed what?” I asked.

“My dress!” Becca enthused, giggling excitedly.

“Um, yes, it’s very nice, what about it?” I asked.

“It’s yours, silly!” Becca laughed. “It’s the dress you wore on your sixteenth, when you stopped being Claire.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well at least now it has an owner who wants to wear it!” I chuckled, giving my little sister a quick hug. "And that's the day I started being Stuart, not 'stopped being Claire'. Always look forward, not backward."

"Aww, I'm so lucky to have you as a big brother!" Becca said with a warm smile. But if anything, I was the lucky one for having such an amazing and accepting family in my life.

I moved back to London shortly after graduation and got good work as a session guitarist/music teacher- nowhere near as much as my parents or my elder sister earned, but more than enough to live on independently. I continued to see my psychiatrist (a very expensive one, paid for by my dad), but it wasn’t until April 2013- seven years since I’d started my transition- that the ‘final piece’ in the puzzle fell into place as I entered Dr. Phillips’s office and stared into the face of someone I’d only recently heard of, yet felt I knew intimately.

“Hi,” I nervously said to the beautiful young woman sat in the waiting room.

“Hi,” she politely replied.

“I hope you don't mind me asking,” I continued. “Are- are you Jamie-Lee Burke?”

"Yeah," Jamie replied, offering me a polite handshake. "Nice to meet you."

"Wow, I have the same psychiatrist as a celebrity," I quipped, inwardly kicking myself for sounding so goofy in front of such an attractive girl. "You know, what you said on TV yesterday morning really struck a chord. Sometimes it's nice to know there's someone else who understands."

"...I don't follow?" Jamie said, looking at me puzzled.

"Well you know what Dr. Phillips's specialism is, right?" I asked, chuckling that I hadn't been 'made'. "Would it surprise you to learn that just over six years ago my name was Claire, and I was the not-so-proud owner of a vagina?" Much to my delight, Jamie's jaw dropped as she looked at my trim, yet masculine body.

"You're kidding," she breathed, making me chuckle more.

"Oh, the wonders of testosterone," I said with a smile. Over the next few minutes (before she went to her counselling session), I got to know the recently-famous young woman, and even plucked up the courage to ask her out on a date- which to my amazement, she accepted!

I did eventually go out with Jamie, but only very briefly- it turns out that not actually having a penis was a deal-breaker, even though she still had one herself! After dating Jamie, I also briefly dated her friend Krystie, a ballet instructor (whom Becca quickly signed up with after learning that Krystie was classically trained), who was MUCH more adventurous than Jamie when it came to sex. Still though, as adventurous as the sex was, the fact that I was still lacking my ‘final piece’ put Krystie off as well.

Unlike transsexuals who ‘go the other way’, many transmen don’t end up having SRS, largely as the operation to graft a penis onto the body is considerably more complicated than the operation to remove it, and the odds of there being a post-operation complication can be as high as 55%- odds I'm not overly keen to play. And yet... I know I'll always be incomplete without 'it'. When I was sixteen, I NEEDED to be a man, and now I'm 23, I am a man. Do I really need the final piece to be complete?

"Who needs BOYS anyway?" Krystie- my ex-girlfriend- yells over the noise of the crowded Parisian nightclub she, Jamie and myself have found ourselves in.

"I'll try not to take that personally!" I yell back, handing the two girls their drinks and escorting them back to their table in the club's VIP area where Krystie immediately raises a toast.

"To being single!" The tall, attractive woman says. Jamie, Krystie and I clink our glasses together, but I can't help but comment on the surrealism of the scene.

"Never thought I'd be toasting being single with my ex..." I laugh.

"And on Valentine's Day too..." Jamie giggles.

Ordinarily, the thought of spending Valentine's Day with not one, but two sexy, famous models would be any heterosexual man's dream, and I very much consider myself to be a heterosexual man. However, when the two models are your ex and one of your very best friends, It can get a little... awkward. Krystie and I still have an occasional- VERY occasional- 'friends with benefits' relationship, but with Jamie... It's hard to feel erotic thoughts for someone you view as like a sister.

Sure, I already have two sisters, both of whom I love dearly, but in the months since I've met (and, yes, briefly dated) Jamie, I've come to love her in just the same way. She truly understands the path I've trodden, and I can open up to her in ways I can't open up to Emma, Becca or my parents. I'm sure she feels the same way about me- sometimes she's said she's told me things, secrets she hasn't even told Charlotte, her 'official' BFF.

Over Christmas Jamie and her five closest friends- including Krystie- gained national fame as the stars of a new reality TV show, meaning our weekend in Paris is being documented by film crews, as is the wedding I'll be attending this weekend in Belfast of one of the 'Angels' as they're known- the wedding of Mary, Krystie's best friend, and Dan, with whom I've become a good friend as well.

Just as footballers have wags- wives and girlfriends- so do the 'Angels' have habs- husbands and boyfriends (well, just boyfriends for now). As well as myself and Dan, our 'group' consists of Keith, Jamie's best friend's boyfriend, who I'd probably consider my best male friend following his unconditional acceptance of me as 'one of the boys', even if he is overprotective of both Charlotte and Jamie. As well as Keith there's Paul, Dan's best man, and Jonathan, boyfriend of one of the 'Angels' and the nephew of their manager. Together, the five of us have been on nights out at clubs, nights in gaming, watching DVDs, eating pizza and crisps and generally acting like stereotypical twenty-something lads. I've loved every single second of these nights- both in and out- and as much as I have to thank Jamie for introducing me to the group, I have to thank Keith for accepting me to the group, even if the occasional nicknames of 'male Jamie' (for my transsexual status) and 'hamster' (for being the same height as and bearing a slight resemblance to Richard Hammond) aren't terribly flattering.

As I stumble back to my hotel room just after 11pm, I can't help but reflect on how lucky I am to have what I have in my life. I have a thriving career in music production, a mild degree of fame from my association from Jamie and her friends, a proper 'gang' with Keith and the lads, and a family who truly loves me for who I am. And yet... I feel incomplete. When I strip off my clothes and look at myself in the mirror, naked, I don't see a man, or even a boy. I see a masculine-looking girl with no breasts and a clitoris that looks like a finger growing out of her groin. Every time I'd have sex with Krystie- or any other woman- it'd be commented on that it'd looked 'fine', 'normal', 'almost like a penis'- but that 'almost' hurt. And yet, as much as I'd like to have a penis, to be a 'proper' boy, I know that the risks outweigh the benefits.

Sighing, I pull my boxer shorts back on and climb under the sheets, shielding my small frame from the cold Parisian night...

I awake with a sigh at 7:30am and shower quickly, before dressing in a plain pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and heading down to breakfast. Inevitably, I'm the first to arrive and I eat quickly, but before I leave I run into Becca and Riley- her boyfriend- entering the restaurant.

"Oh, hi Stu!" My 18-year old sister says, grinning as she holds hands with her also 18 year old boyfriend.

"Hi Becca, Hi Riley," I say. "Good night last night?" I can't help but grimace as Becca stares into Riley's eyes and giggles excitedly.

"...Never mind," I sigh.

"Oh stop being so over-protective!" Becca complains.

"I'm your big brother, I'm meant to be over-protective," I say. "I remember when you used to be ten years old, telling me about your imaginary friends..."

"For god's sake!" Becca hisses. "Stop being so embarrassing!"

"Nah, 'ten-year old Becca' sounds so sweet..." Riley says, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Becca. I can't help but giggle as I head back to my room to grab my case. When she'd first asked to come on this weekend away, I'd been wary, and dad had been downright aghast that his baby girl would be having a romantic weekend away with a boy, but as she pointed out, she IS technically an adult, even though every time I look at her, I can't look past the sweet, innocent ten year old girl she used to be.

Becca is, like most girls her age, a fan of 'the Angels', even though she personally knows two of them through me. For Christmas, I actually got her a private dance lesson with all six girls (even though she still attends Krystie's class anyway) and she was utterly star-struck, despite being as good a dancer (if not better) than any of the Angels. Last month, she applied for representation with the same agent that represents the Angels, and was signed to a contract on the spot after impressing with her singing voice. Becca has aspirations of being the next Cheryl Cole, and every time she talks about her dreams, my mental image of her as a ten year old girl just grows dimmer and dimmer. And seeing her with a boy... it almost hurts.

I've known Riley for a while- he's Krystie's brother, so technically I've known him longer than Becca has- and I know he's a good lad, even if he is a bit shy. He's actually hung out with the rest of the guys a few times as well, and in theory, if I could pick anyone to be Becca's boyfriend, he'd be high on the list... But I'd much rather not have to pick anyone at all.

Every time I'm reminded of Becca as a ten year old girl, though, I have to remember that thirteen years ago, I was a ten year old girl myself, and my parents have had to see me undergo a much bigger change than Becca. They still sometimes address me as 'Claire', despite it being almost eight years since I legally changed my name. I don't miss being a girl, not one bit... But sometimes I miss being a daughter.

"Hi mate," Keith says as I walk up to where he's stood with Dan, Paul and Jonathan. "Sleep in?"

"Nah," I reply. "Just wanted to get some breakfast before looking around Paris. What time did you all get in?"

"Just after midnight," Jonathan says. "Glad my uncle's come so I don't have to chaperone Addie..." I look over my shoulder at where Adeola- Jonathan's cousin- is stood chatting with Becca, both girls having slipped a hand in their respective boyfriend's back pockets.

"Yeah," I sigh. "I know the feeling..."

"Oh stop being such a fucking wuss!" Dan laughs. "She's eighteen! Frankly it'd be weird if she DIDN'T have a boyfriend."

"And you know we'll all help you beat him up if he breaks her heart," Jonathan interjects.

"Thanks, that means a lot," I reply sarcastically. "And yes, I know I SHOULD let her do her own thing... None of you actually have younger sisters though, do you?"

"I've got a younger brother," Keith mumbles.

"And Addie's like a sister to me," Jonathan says. "Now can you please try to stop whining and just enjoy the weekend? You know, grow a pair?"

"That's what I've been trying to do for most of my life," I retort, making Jonathan chuckle. "Okay, let's enjoy Paris. At least I won't have to worry about camera crews following me..."

"For the record," Keith says as we walk back to our respective partners (or 'companions' in my case), "I kinda see Jamie as a little sister, so I do know where you're coming from."

"A little sister who's almost identical to your long-term girlfriend?" I retort with a laugh.

"She is not almost identical!" Keith says. "Okay, maybe a little. Point is, if anyone hurt her like that arsehole Gould did last year..."

"Basically, you always wanted a little sister, right?" I laugh.

"Yeah, I guess," Keith sighs, staring a little TOO long at Jamie as she arrives in the hotel reception to be greeted by Charlotte with a massive hug- another thing about being a girl that was a positive... Though for entirely unwholesome reasons as far as I'm concerned!

After wandering around Paris for a while with Jamie and Krystie (during which Krystie jokingly offers me a 'wet willy' in exchange for photos of a 4 year old Becca in her flower girl dress), we head as a group to the airport, where Joshua's booked a private departure lounge, complete with a buffet lunch- that myself and the boys demolish very quickly! Before too long, we're on the posh plane to Dublin, and on a posh private coach to Belfast, where the wedding will take place. I was sat next to Krystie on the flight, but for the coach, I find myself sat next to an unusually tipsy Jamie.

"God, that flight SUCKED," Jamie complains as she dramatically flops into the soft leather seat.

"Yeah, your breath kinda gives it away," I laugh. "You were sat next to Paul Kennedy, right? Not exactly front of the line when charisma was being handed out..."

"I didn't help much there," Jamie whines, before leaning in close to me (causing me to recoil slightly from the strong smell of alcohol coming from her mouth). "Can I tell you a secret? I'm dreading the wedding. Being the only single girl there..." This surprises me- clearly when Krystie promised me that 'wet willy' (which I'm still not 100% what it actually is), Jamie must've thought something else was going on...

"Um, has Krystie ceased to exist or something?" I laugh. "We're not seeing each other again, far from it!"

"But- but Paris...?" Jamie asks confusedly.

"Which one of us shared a bed with her again?" I ask, savouring the mental image of the two beautiful women in bed together. "We're just friends, friends with the occasional 'benefit', nothing more."

"God, this is gonna sound bitchy..." Jamie moans. "But you know, I'm actually... I'm actually kinda glad."

"What, you want me to yourself, or her to yourself?" I ask, making Jamie giggle and lean in for a quick cuddle.

"You're sexier," Jamie says. "I MUCH prefer pecs to tits!"

"Except on your own body, right?" I ask, making Jamie giggle even more. As she rests her head on my shoulder, I can't help but shiver a little as my heart rate increases- obviously, she's a very beautiful woman, and one of my very best friends, but what I'm feeling right now... It's new. It's like I could talk to Jamie for the rest of my life and never run out of things to say. I don't believe in god, or souls... But that not to say that I don't believe in the idea of soulmates. And right now, Jamie comes closer to filling that role than anyone I've ever known...

After we arrive in Belfast, we all head to our rooms where the girls prepare for a hen night- all except Becca and Adeola, that is, who I encounter in the hotel restaurant.

"Hi girls," I say. "Not joining the big night out?"

"Nah, underage," Adeola moans. "I mean, would it have killed them to wait a couple of months?"

"Mary will be HUGE by then," I say. "And the way things seem to be going between Viks and your cousin, you may not have to wait too much longer for another wedding..."

"Yeah, my uncle REALLY loves them both," Adeola giggles.

"I'm not going on the hen night either," Becca interjects. "Even though I'm NOT underage, figured I'd stick behind and keep my best girl company!"

"Good," I say. "On all counts, apart from you NOT being underage!"

"Oh whatever," Becca says, taking a very long, deliberate sip from her wine glass. "Guess what, jerk? I'm not a kid anymore!"

"Yeah, you are," I say dismissively as I stare at the restaurant's menu.

"Oh- geez- you are lucky you're not WEARING this wine!" Becca growls as I giggle.

"You're the one who always wanted a big brother, remember?" I say. "You're the one who had the imaginary friend called Stuart..." I can't help but feel a LITTLE sorry for Becca as Adeola giggles at my teasing, but my poor baby sister is just so funny when she gets wound up... And it really doesn't take much to get her to that state.

"Yeah, well," Becca says, "REAL Stuart isn't a patch on IMAGINARY Stuart!" I can't help but giggle at the half-hearted comeback, but I decide to let her 'have the win' regardless.

As I walk back to my hotel room with Becca, I can't help but feel a little guilty about the teasing, even though Becca has long since returned to her usual cheerful self.

"In truth," I sigh to the 18 year old woman as she enters her hotel room, "it is kinda hard, as a big brother, to watch you grow up so fast. I feel a lot closer to you than I do to Emma, despite the age gap being bigger between us."

"I feel the same way," Becca sighs. "But I AM growing up. That little girl you know... She's been replaced by a bigger, BETTER model. Much like one of my big sisters got replaced by a bigger, better brother!" I laugh and give my little sister a quick hug. "Even if he can be an overprotective, annoying jerk at times!"

"I'll never stop looking out for you," I say. "Or being overprotective, annoying and a jerk!"

"Go and enjoy your stag night," Becca giggles, releasing from the hug. "And try not to think about how much I'm enjoying my boyfriend!" I can't help but roll my eyes as she shuts the door in my face, even though she is, of course, 100% correct in everything she says. She'll never stop being my little sister, but she stopped being my baby sister a long time ago.

I put these thoughts out of my head as I rendezvous with Paul, Jonathan and Keith outside Dan's hotel room. As is tradition, Dan and Mary are sleeping in separate rooms on the night before the wedding, and whilst Dan's happy for Mary to go out on a hen night and soak up the adulation of her home town, Dan himself would rather have a quiet night in his hotel room, watching television. Needless to say, the four of us don't intend to let him.

The second Dan sets foot outside his hotel room, the four of us pounce, each grabbing a limb and lifting him bodily off the floor. Even though as a personal trainer, he's extremely fit, he's completely at our mercy once we have him, and stops struggling long before we load him- upside down- into one of the seats in the hotel bar, and ply him with drink after drink. We're not exactly quiet- it IS a stag night, after all- and I'm sure many of the other guests looking on will see us and assume that we're a bunch of obnoxious drunken hooligans. But in truth, there is absolutely nowhere I would rather be than right here, right now.

Even as I wake up the following morning with a massive hangover- not helped by Paul's relentless banging on my door matching the banging in my head, I feel happy and content with where I am in my life. As I dress in the hot, itchy tuxedo alongside my four best friends, I have to fight my instincts to give them all hugs right then and there. I AM 'one of the guys'- a dream come true, even if I am by far the smallest of the guys.

...A fact hammered home as I dance with Jamie at the reception, and she towers over me in her ridiculous heels.

"I still can't believe Mary's actually married," Jamie sighs as we later sit around one of the many tables.

"She won't be the last of you to get hitched," I muse, before my eye catches a glimpse of Becca and Riley dancing happily amongst all the other couples on the dancefloor. "Welcome to the wonderful world of growing up..." Much to my surprise, Jamie then sighs a very happy-sounding sigh and rests her head on my shoulder. Tentatively, I rest my head against Jamie's and slowly wrap an arm around her tiny waist. We only stay sat like that for a few minutes, but by the end of that time my heart is pounding like a jackhammer- and I can tell from the pulsing coming from Jamie's chest that hers is as well.

It's well after midnight before I head back to my hotel room and even later before I get to sleep- but not before I receive a text message from Paul reading 'is it a cliché for the best man and maid of honour to hook up at a wedding? Because it's totally happening anyway!' I can't help but smile as I toss my phone onto the nightstand- Krystie has been somewhat eager in her quest for a new boyfriend since we split up, and Paul is a nice, decent guy who's more than capable of giving her what she wants.

Fortunately, on the Sunday morning, I wake up with nowhere near as bad a hangover as I had the previous day, even though it's well before 8:30am and I'm being woken by an incoming call. Half-expecting the call to be from Paul, boasting of his 'conquest', I'm surprised when I see that it's from the girl I danced with last night.

"Jamie?" I groggily ask. "What time is it?"

"What room are you in?" Jamie asks, catching me by surprise with her non-answer of my question.

"Umm... 215," I reply. "Are you at breakfast?"

"Not yet," Jamie says. "Want to grab it together?"

"Sure," I mumble. "Just give me a chance to get dressed..."

After dressing in a very plain pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, I head down to breakfast, only to encounter Jamie en route- almost as if she'd planned to rendezvous with me. In her short, tight skirt and tight green jumper, she's looking VERY attractive- even if she is wearing too much make-up for this time of the morning.

"Hi Jamie," I say, grinning goofily at the beautiful girl. "You're looking great today!"

"Thanks," Jamie giggles. "You're looking hot too!" 'Hot'? I think to myself.

"Umm, I'm wearing jeans and a sweatshirt," I laugh. "Only way I'd be 'hot' is if they crank up the thermostat." Jamie giggles even more, looking deep into my eyes and gently stroking my arm...

"Jamie," I sigh as I figure out why Jamie is acting uncharacteristically 'open' with me. "Is this about Krystie and Paul?"

"That obvious, eh?" Jamie pouts.

"Never fun being single at a wedding, especially if you're the only person who is," I say, prompting Jamie to link her fingers with mine and stare deep into my eyes.

"That's the point," she says, the sweet smell of her perfume invading my nostrils and making my heart beat ever faster. "We don't HAVE to be..."

"Jamie..." I sigh. "I like you, I like you a lot, but-"

"Is it about me being pre-op?" Jamie asks. "Because in a couple of months I'll-" I silence Jamie by shaking my head.

"It'd be a bit hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?" I laugh as I muse how horrified Jamie would be by MY genitals. "I love you, but- but as a friend."

"I love you as a friend too," Jamie sighs. Even despite the 'rejection', Jamie and I spend the rest of the day together, both at breakfast and on the flight back to London, and when she offers me a 'friends with benefits' relationship like I had with Krystie, I make a point of not committing to a 'yes' or a 'no' answer. Jamie is one of the most beautiful women I know- the manner in which she was born doesn't diminish that one bit, but her friendship is one of the biggest blessings in my life- one I daren't ruin.

After the madness of the weekend and a much needed lazy day off on Monday, it's almost a relief to get back to work on Tuesday, especially as my current project is arranging musical pieces for a local play- a job that involves working closely with the main creative force. As I run my latest arrangement past Darren (the director), though, he has things other than his play on his mind.

"So then," the almost stereotypically-camp man teases, "how was Paris with the divas?"

"ANGELS," I correct. "And it was good, been ages since I had a holiday."

"Didn't sleep with any of them this time, then?" Darren teases further. "Didn't cause any of those angelic girls to crash back down to Earth, I hope?"

"No, though not for want of trying," I say. "And before you comment, the trying was on THEIR part."

"Ooh, and here I was thinking you'd committed to the lifestyle of a butch, heterosexual man..." Darren coos.

"I have," I sigh, "but- and god, this will sound stupid... I never really had any female friends growing up, whilst at school. I was 'one of the boys' long before I had the paperwork to prove it."

"Oh, I know the feeling," Darren sighs. "Only, obviously, I was always one of the girls- though I intend on KEEPING my parts very much attached!"

"Each to their own, I guess," I laugh.

"And speaking of angelic creatures," Darren continues, "when ARE you going to let me put that supremely talented younger sister of yours on my stage?"

"When hell freezes over," I chuckle.

"Oh come on," Darren pleads. "I'm not some sleazy executive, you know I'll never 'take advantage' of her, you can't keep her wrapped in cotton wool forever..."

"I can, and I will," I laugh. "Now, this is what I've come up with for song four..."

I spend most of Tuesday and Wednesday working on the play- a welcome distraction from my growing feelings for Jamie, as is the games night Keith hosts on the Wednesday night. Thursday is his birthday, and as always, the Angels (minus Mary, who's away on her honeymoon) have prepared a special dance routine to celebrate. I'm pretty convinced, though, that they just use boys' birthdays as an excuse to dress up in fancy costumes- which is fair enough, I suppose.

As I enter Keith's 'man cave' (actually a small shed-like building in Charlotte's back garden) I'm given the customary welcome of a can of Coke (it would be lager if it wasn't driving) and a PlayStation controller.

"Alright, mate?" Keith asks as I crash down on the sofa. "How was work?"

"Frustrating," I sigh. "Darren's got a laundry list of demands for his music, and taking Monday off has SERIOUSLY set me back."

"Still though," Paul says, "you're getting paid by the hour, right?"

"Only hours I'm actually at the studio," I say. "Even then Darren spends most of his time gossiping about the Angels..."

"You've got to admit though," Keith says, "that association HAS got you a lot of work.

"Oh, it definitely has," I say. "I'm definitely grateful to be friends with the girls."

"But..." Keith teases. "You wish it was more, right?"

"Eh, kind-of," I sigh.

"I remind you that you had your chance," Paul laughs, "and Krystie has now moved on to bigger and better things."

"Oh, fuck off," I moan. "You know I was constantly being hit on by Jamie in Belfast?"

"Bollocks you were," Keith retorts.

"Seriously," I say. "Don't forget we left that place as the only two single people, I think it kinda got to her."

"How exactly would you two do 'it', anyway?" Paul asks.

"I'm sure we could come to some arrangement," I say.

"Would that 'arrangement' include pulleys, winches and access to a mains socket?" Keith laughs.

"Oh- feel free to use all those things and go fuck YOURSELF," I retort, making the whole shed laugh. I don't leave the shed until well after 11pm, but as I head back to my car, I inevitably run into Jamie and Charlotte, whose scandalous necklines, hemlines and heel heights give away that they've had a fairly hectic night on the town.

"Hi Jamie!" I say nervously upon seeing the transwoman I am desperately trying NOT to fall for. "Hi Charlotte, calling an early end to girls night tonight, then?"

"It's not as much fun with only four of us," Charlotte explains. "And we do kinda need to be up early tomorrow." I chat with Charlotte for a brief while before Jamie insists I follow her back inside the house, and once inside, she wastes no time in practically pinning me to her bedroom door.

"I want 'benefits'," Jamie forcefully says, leaning in close to me so I can smell the sweet fragrance she's doused herself with... And the vast quantities of alcohol she's poured down her throat.

"Umm, now?" I ask nervously. "You've kinda had a lot to drink..."

"Oh come on..." Jamie pleads, and every instinct in my body is telling me to take Jamie into her bedroom and spend the night entwined with her body... But I know just how bad an idea that would be in the long run.

"Jamie," I say calmly. "You're going through a lot right now, things in your life are changing, and casual sex with a friend isn't going to change that."

"Can we at least sleep together WITHOUT sex?" Jamie asks. I open my mouth, and I almost find myself agreeing to Jamie's idea, but common sense quickly kicks in and tells me that even without sex, it'd add a level of awkwardness to our relationship that it doesn't need.

"Jamie..." I sigh. "One day, if we both want it, we WILL have sex, I promise you. If by some miracle you're still single, and you want it- no NEED it- then we will, but not when you're this drunk and this upset."

"Dammit," Jamie moans. "Why do you have to be such a good friend?"

"See you tomorrow, Jamie," I whisper, before my instincts take over and I lean into Jamie, giving her a gentle, yet loving, kiss.

I barely sleep that night, I'm so transfixed on the kiss and what it means, and whether or not I AM being oversensitive about Jamie being pre-op- Hannah, another of the Angels, has recently become single, and as the tallest and the one generally considered most attractive by the general public, if she'd demanded casual sex from me, would I have refused like I did with Jamie? Or is it because I value Jamie too much as a friend? Or is it because I’M pre-op and afraid that that will alienate Jamie?

I can barely concentrate at work the following day, and Darren's constant teasing doesn't help, so when 3pm rolls around, it's actually a relief to head home to pick Becca up for Keith's party, though that relief sours slightly when I pick up Krystie and Riley and the teenagers snuggle up together on my back seat.

"Tell us to get a room and we will," Becca threatens, making Krystie laugh.

"Don't see why you're laughing," I moan. "It's your younger sibling too!"

"Yeah," Krystie giggles. "Aren't they cute?"

"NO," I moan. "Why weren't you at games night last night, Riley?"

"My bad," Becca says smugly, once again making me roll my eyes and making Krystie giggle hard.

After arriving, I set up my keyboard in Charlotte's vast 'ballroom', and (after giving Keith his presents and an awkward 'man hug'), play the special piece I'd composed for the occasion. The five girls are all dressed in utterly ridiculous royal blue leotards with top hats and fishnets tights- I think they're supposed to be majorettes, but as ever with Charlotte's costumes, it's hard to be 100% certain.

I manage to grab a quick chat with Jamie after the 'performance', but it's not until virtually everyone has left (including Krystie, Becca and Riley) that I'm able to speak to her in any depth.

"I seriously can't believe you're still wearing that," I say to the costume-clad girl as she gets herself a drink from the bar.

"Hey, I paid for it, I want to get my use out of it!" Jamie giggles. "Not like I'll ever get a chance to wear it again..."

"That's probably for the best," I chuckle. "Jamie... About last night..."

"Can- can we forget that happened?" Jamie says. "Like you said, I was pissed, I was emotional... Now that the Hannah thing's all sorted... I feel much happier now. No need for random casual sex!"

"Good," I say with a smile, though internally I am slightly disappointed.

"Though the offer is still on the table," Jamie continues. "Any time you want it."

"Only if you NEED it too," I say.

"Does anyone really NEED sex?" Jamie muses, sitting down cross-legged on a bar stool. "I mean, yes, it's been ages since I last had it, and it's not like I'm going to die if I never have sex again..."

"Does anyone really NEED anything?" I muse. "Well... Yes. I NEEDED to flood my body with testosterone, or in all likelihood, I'd probably be in a mental hospital or worse by now."

"Yeah," Jamie says flatly. "I know what you mean. I mean, it's like my SRS, I don't NEED a vagina, but..."

"You'll spend the rest of your life having always WANTED one if you didn't undergo the surgery," I say quietly.

"Exactly that," Jamie says- and everything she says rings true for me too. I've lived as a man now for eight years, a full third of my life, and in all that time, I've never had a penis- I've never NEEDED one. But is it wrong to WANT to have one? More to the point, is it wrong to WANT Jamie to be my lover as well as my friend?

"I- I'd better get home," I mumble. "It's late, I've got a mountain of work to do tomorrow..."

"See you round then, you sexy, testosterone-fuelled beast!" Jamie jokes as she gives me a brief kiss. As with last night, I savour her taste all the way home, even as I climb into bed. I LOVE Jamie. I really, truly do... But can I 'love' her in the way she clearly wants me to?

I take a deep breath as I enter the vast hospital and quickly find my way to the clean private room, briefly stopping when I see the middle-aged man stood outside.

"Hi Mark!" I say to the smartly-dressed man, who greets me with a handshake and a smile.

"Hello Stuart!" The man warmly replies. "Jamie's currently being seen by her nurse, but she should done any minute."

"That's why you're out here instead of in there, then?" I chuckle.

"Yep," Jamie's dad says. "Thought I'd give the missus a break, she's been here literally every second I haven't. I try to tell her that Jamie's got the best nurses money can buy..."

"You can't argue with a mother whose child's unwell," I muse, remembering how my own mother wouldn't leave my bedside after both my mastectomy and my hysterectomy.

"I know she'll be pleased to see you," Mr. Travis says. "She's actually been asking about you, wondering when you'll drop by."

"All done," the posh nurse says as she exits the room. "She's all yours, as long as you don't excite her too much!" I stammer a little as the nurse looks in my direction.

"Oh, um, I'm not Jamie's boyfriend, um," I stammer, making both the nurse and Jamie's dad laugh.

"Come on, son," Mr. Travis says, leading me into the room.

"Hi dad," Jamie says, before her smile widens upon seeing me- and the expensive bouquet of flowers I've brought. "Hey, Stu!"

"Hi Jamie," I say, giving the poorly girl a gentle, one-handed hug. "Still doped up to your eyeballs?"

"Nah," Jamie giggles. "Just a bit below, maybe mouth level. Thanks for the flowers, if the modelling thing doesn't work out I guess I could always become a florist, heh. Just can't wait to get back on my feet..."

"Well you're GOING to wait," Jamie's dad insists. "It'll only be for a few weeks, then you've got the rest of your life to be the woman you were always meant to be!" Jamie giggles- probably thanks to the painkillers flooding her system- but Mark's words resonate with me as much as they do with Jamie. When Jamie looks at herself naked in the mirror, she'll see a girl with girl parts. When I look at myself in the mirror, I see a boy... With girl parts. Sure, the recovery period for a phalloplasty would be 2, maybe even 3 times as long, but once it's done, it's DONE. I'd have a penis. MY penis. My dick. My cock.

...And yet, there's a part of me that's scared of having a penis. It's not like I could go back to being a girl- my uterus is gone, my ovaries are gone, my breasts are gone, I've had testosterone flooding my body for a full third of my life... but this 'final step' is something else entirely, and it's hard to say why. Is it because I'd always be a 'chick with a dick'? Is it because I'm scared I'd never fully get used to having it? Is it because I'm not THAT uncomfortable with the way I am?

I ask all these rhetorical questions two days later as I sit on one of the comfortable chairs in my counsellor's office. Dr Phillips nods and takes notes as I reel off my woes, before offering her typically wise opinion on the matter.

"Obviously," the middle-aged professional woman begins, "I'm going to preface this by saying what I've said a million times: The way you feel is perfectly natural, there is nothing wrong with the way you feel. You WERE born in the wrong body, and there'll always be a part of you that will feel that way. There is a chance that SRS will correct this, there's a chance that the feeling will remain even AFTER SRS."

"So... Are you saying I should take the plunge and book my SRS?" I ask.

"I'm saying you should think about it carefully," Dr Phillips clarifies. "Though you've clearly already put a lot of careful thought into this. You'd be surprised how many young men and women I get coming through these doors at the start of their transition eager to have SRS, only to have second thoughts about it as the time of their operation approaches."

"So... What are you saying I should do?" I ask, confused and slightly frustrated by Dr Phillips's advice.

"You should do what you feel is best," the counsellor advises. "I can help you find that out, but I can't definitively say 'yes you should have SRS', or 'no you shouldn't have it'. This is a decision only YOU can make, Stuart."

I keep Dr Phillips's advice in my mind all throughout the rest of the week at work and at home. I talk it over with my parents and my older sister, though as none of them have ever gone through what I'm going through, the amount of advice they can offer is severely limited. Even days later, as I'm driving to Jamie's house to welcome her home, it's all I can think about- though my thoughts SHOULD be on the impending return of my best friend. My sisters- who are accompanying me to Jamie's house- quickly sense that something's amiss with me.

"Emma," Becca asks with a cheeky voice, "why is our brother not more excited about the return of the girl he is so obviously madly in love with?"

"Stu's got a lot on his mind lately," Emma explains with a cheeky grin of her own.

"Can we not discuss I-T with B-E-C-C-A in the car, please?" I ask, chuckling a little as my baby sister lets out one of her trademark frustrated grunts.

"Oh for god's sake!" Becca sighs. "Did you not attend my birthday party two weeks ago? Didn't you wonder why there lots of things with the number '19' written on them? I'm not a kid! Just tell me!" Emma- equally familiar with Becca's 'outbursts'- chuckles along with me, explaining to Becca after I give her the nod.

"Let's just say that soon, Jamie might not be the only post-operative transsexual we know," Emma says, eliciting a surprised gasp from our teenaged sister.

"Oh my god, Stu!" Becca squeaks, leaning forward and giving my shoulders a tight squeeze. "This is so awesome!"

"I haven't made up my mind yet," I sigh.

"What's there to think about?" Becca asks. "I mean, you've spent the last eight years of your life turning yourself into a man, surely this is just the next step? You've already had surgery on your chest, you've had a hysterectomy..."

"Yeah, will this is bigger than all of those others put together," I say. "It's not like Jamie hasn't had minor surgeries before this one- I know for a fact at the very least she's had a boob job AND surgery on her Adam's apple. If you ask her, she'll say that this beats all of those put together too."

"I guess..." Becca says.

"And it's not like Stu has to make an immediate decision," Emma interjects. "Penis or no penis, he'll always be our brother, right?"

"Right!" Becca giggles. "But... The longer you wait, the longer you'll be wishing you had, you know, 'one'..." I remain quiet for the rest of the trip- Emma and Becca both make excellent points. I'm grateful when I finally arrive at Jamie's house and help her settle back in her room with the help of her mum and Charlotte. I spend the whole day at Jamie's house listening to her & Charlotte's gossip and Jamie talk about her new vagina. It's only when I'm alone in Jamie's bedroom with the two women that the thought hits me- I'm a full year older than Charlotte and 18 months older than Jamie, meaning that of the three people in the room, I've had a vagina longer than any of us, and yet I'm the only man. That's a thought that sticks with me throughout the rest of the day and all throughout the following day at work. I even dream about undergoing the operation, laying in a hospital bed just as I'd seen Jamie do...

And yet, as much as thoughts of my 'new manhood' litter my mind, they're always followed by thoughts of Jamie herself. If the only way I could take the 'journey' was alone, then it'd be a no-brainer- I simply wouldn't take it. But now that I have my friends, close friends who love me, and a girl who understands my plight better than anyone, who's beautiful, funny, clever... Even when she was pre-op she was one of the most beautiful and amazing women I'd ever known. My feelings for her are only hammered home on the Thursday morning when, whilst waiting for a music arrangement to render on my computer, I idly browse Facebook and see something that rips my heart straight out of its chest.

'Jamie-Lee Burke is in a relationship'.

I actually shed a tear as I read that sentence, such is my love for her. I start to type out a response, a 'congratulations', but inside a part of me has died, a part I doubt I'll ever get back. It's only after reading the full sentence- 'Jamie-Lee Burke is in a relationship with Hannah Dexter'- that I start to recover. I don't know Hannah as well as I do the other girls, but this is EXACTLY the type of practical joke she loves. Rolling my eyes, I delete my 'congratulations' and instead type 'prove it', only to be greeted seconds later by a photograph of the two girls kissing using what look like mouths that are barely suppressing laughter.

"Very funny," I say to myself, but I'm not laughing- I genuinely, honestly thought I'd lost my chance of being with Jamie. I briefly contemplate going round to Jamie's house to see her, but as large as the part of me that adores her is, there's an equally large part of me that's still scared of committing to a relationship with Jamie, a part of me that's scared she'd take one look at me naked and run a mile...

I wake up on Friday morning with a sigh. Even though it's Good Friday and the start of a four day weekend for most people, working in the industry I do means I don't get the luxury of observing public holidays. I immerse myself in my work, but after dinner, I find myself unable to concentrate on anything other than Jamie. She's already reverted yesterday's Facebook update, but yesterday's 'scare' is almost too much for me to take. After making my excuses, I drive myself straight to Jamie's house, where I eagerly knock on her door to be greeted by her father.

"Hello Stuart!" Mr. Travis says with a grin. "Here to see Jamie?"

"Hi Mark," I say. "Yeah, is- is she, you know, up for visitors?"

"Of course," Mark says, ushering me upstairs. "Don't tell her I said this, but I'm worried that she's getting lonely cooped up in her room. Obviously, though, I don't want her getting up and about again until she's absolutely ready."

"My lips are sealed," I say as Mark knocks on his daughter's bedroom door.

"Yet another gentleman caller," Mark jokes. Even though I know that it was Keith- whose relationship with Charlotte isn't going anywhere anytime soon- who was the other 'gentleman caller', I still find myself getting jealous that another man was seeing the girl I'm increasingly viewing as 'my' girl.

"Hey Jamie," I say with an unintentionally goofy expression.

"Hi Stu!" Jamie says. From my perspective, it's almost as though her eyes light up upon seeing me... Though that could just be wishful thinking on my part.

"I'll leave you two to it," Mark chuckles, closing the door behind him.

"I just thought I'd drop round," I stammer. "Um, you know, see how you were doing..."

"If you missed me, you can always just say," Jamie giggles. Yeah, if only it was that easy... "I thought you said you'd be busy with work all week?"

"Project's going a lot faster than I expected," I lie. "Songs don't really need that much editing..." I take a deep breath as I steady my nerves. "And yes, I did miss you." Much to my relief, and my surprise, Jamie giggles at my 'forced confession'.

"I missed you too," Jamie whispers, catching me off-guard.

"Um, even though it's only been three days?" I ask.

"Well..." Jamie replies, before we both simultaneously break down in a giggling fit. For the next two hours we gossip about the most trivial things, but I enjoy every second of it, and as I leave just after half past nine, I find I'd give anything to stay with Jamie just a second longer.

"Thank you," Jamie whispers as I leave. “Thank you so much, and not just for tonight, not just for helping me decide to have this surgery, but for everything. Thank you… For being you.”

"No," I whisper back. "Thank YOU for being YOU. See you soon, Jamie." I shut the door and let out a long sigh. "I- I love you..."

After spending an interminable Easter Saturday at my aunt's house with my parents and my sisters, and an even more tedious Sunday morning at church with my family, I don't even bother coming up with an excuse to go round to Jamie's house in the evening. After once again being escorted up to Jamie's room by her dad, I sit down next to her on the bed and take in every inch of her body, every syllable she says. We talk about nonsense for a brief while, before our eyes fix on each other and I find myself involuntarily leaning into her, our lips pressing together gently, lovingly. The kiss lasts mere seconds before I break away, my heart racing, my emotions a blur.

"I-" I stammer, desperate to recover the situation and not lose Jamie forever. "I- I'm sorry Jamie, I know you're vulnerable right now, I, um, I got carried away, I shouldn't-"

"Shut up, please?" Jamie says with a grin, before pulling my head in towards hers and kissing me deeply, passionately. Almost instantly, my brain goes into overdrive. She initiated the kiss! She wants me! SHE wants ME! With shaking hands, I gently caress her supple, feminine body as we swap saliva, our tongues gently massaging each other. I slide a tentative hand underneath Jamie's t-shirt, gently caressing her breast, and when I encounter no resistance, I slip a finger underneath her bra cup, gently stroking her rock-hard nipple. I get carried away in the heat of the moment and almost don't notice when Jamie slips one of her hands underneath the waistband of my trousers, but as she approaches my genital region, my mind immediately switches from arousal to near-panic.

"No," I breathe hastily. "It's... It's not pretty down there." Much to my surprise, Jamie simply smiles, then points her crotch at me, raising her skirt and lowering her panties to show me her new lady parts. I let out a quiet gasp of surprise as I see her 'area'- with the exception of the angry-looking pink scars and the stitches covering her genitals like zippers, it looks... Ordinary. Like any other girl's vagina. Shaking slightly through nerves, I remove my jeans and slowly lower my boxer shorts, allowing Jamie to see my genitals for the very first time- and I can tell she's just as surprised as I am, if not more.

"Pretty?" Jamie asks, before smiling wickedly at me. "I think it's SEXY." I grin widely as Jamie and I lean in once more, kissing deeply, before Jamie's hand finds its way onto my clitoris, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through my body.

"Oh god," I moan, my words obscured by Jamie's own mouth.

"Do you want me to stop?" Jamie asks, concern in her voice.

"HELL no," I gasp as Jamie increases the pressure on my most sensitive of body parts. Within seconds I lose control, moaning and gasping into Jamie's mouth before collapsing back onto my bed as the orgasm penetrates every cell of my body.

"I really do love you, you know," Jamie whispers as she lays down next to me. "It doesn't matter what you've got down there, it's what's inside here that counts." Jamie gently places one of her small hands on my chest, pressing down on my rapidly-thumping heart.

"I- I love you too," I whisper, desperately trying to keep tears from forming in my eyes. "You're my best ever friend... Who says sex destroys friendships, anyway?"

"People who are WRONG!" Jamie giggles, giving me another kiss, a kiss that ends when we both giggle loudly into each other's mouth. We both stay firmly rooted to the spot for the next few hours, kissing, cuddling, gossiping about friends and family. If I didn't have work tomorrow, I wouldn't have left Jamie's side, but I'm eventually torn away just before 11pm, reluctantly returning home where, to my surprise, Becca is still awake, cuddled up on the sofa watching TV with Riley.

"Hey guys," I say, collapsing into a chair and desperately trying NOT to think about the man pawing away at my baby sister.

"Look at you, Mr. Stay-Out," Becca teases. "Have fun at Jamie's?"

"Yeah," I say nonchalantly. Even though we are now technically in a relationship, I'm not sure how far Jamie wants to take it, or how soon, so I can't simply blab it openly to anyone- not even Becca.

"Only it's well past your usual bedtime," Becca continues. "Aren't you planning on working tomorrow?"

"Don't you also have coursework to complete?" I retort.

"Good point," Becca concedes. "Speaking of bedtime..." Becca stands up and makes a show of giving her boyfriend a long, deep kiss in front of me, before skipping upstairs hand-in-hand with Riley. Normally, I'd be incensed by this behaviour- but following my 'session' with Jamie I find I'm surprisingly laid-back about it. God, don't tell me I was envious of my baby sister...

The second I wake up the following day, I open up Facebook on my phone and send a message to Jamie, a simple one that reads 'morning beautiful'. When I don't get an instant reply, I get washed and dressed and settle down to work. When I'm not working (or being pestered by Becca & Riley), I'm sending Jamie yet more messages in the hope that she'll eventually reply, and when she does, my hands actually start to shake.

"For god's sake," I whisper to myself. "You've known the girl for ages, she's clearly as into you as you are into her, stop being so fucking nervous..." I briefly chat with Jamie, during which she invites me around for a coffee date tomorrow. After we've finished our 'chat', I immediately open up my email and compose a message to my counsellor, requesting a meeting tomorrow morning.

I make sure I'm awake extra-early for the 9am meeting (the only free slot Dr Phillips had), and all the way there, I mentally run through everything I want to say to the middle-aged woman.

"Hi Stuart," Beverly says as I enter the office and sit down in my usual plush chair. "Your email mentioned that you urgently wanted to see me- have you thought more about your SRS?"

"I have," I say. "...But it's not all I've been thinking about. I've... I've started a new relationship."

"I see," Beverly says. "That IS good news, is it someone you knew beforehand, a friend, or someone you've just met?"

"It's Jamie," I say nervously. "I've had feelings for her for ages, a couple of nights ago we were talking in private, one thing led to another..."

"You became physical?" Beverly asks.

"Yes," I say. "And we both enjoyed it, we both agreed that we wanted more, a proper relationship. And before you say anything, no, I didn't 'disturb' Jamie's 'area', I know she needs a lot more time to heal."

"Heh," Beverly giggles. "So the physicality... It was one-sided?"

"Yes," I say. "...And it was good. It was VERY good, it just... As much as I enjoyed it, it just hammered home that I'm still pre-op. Jamie says she doesn't mind, but she's only been with REAL men before... We're good friends, GREAT friends, and I know that if we weren't close, she'd never have agreed to be with me..."

"Remember that I know Jamie very well," Beverly says with a smile. "If her feelings for you are genuine, SRS shouldn't make a difference."

"But it'd make a difference to MY feelings for ME," I sigh. "My relationship with Jamie... I LOVE her, but I'm afraid that every time we're together... I'll always have this nagging thought in the back of my mind, that she's had SRS and I haven't, that I should..."

"Jamie shouldn't be your only reason for having SRS," Beverly advises. "It sounds like your feelings for her have been growing for some time now, am I right?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "And yes, my desire to have SRS have grown alongside my feelings for Jamie. I know how it must sound- yes, I've been pre-op for eight years, it may seem like these feelings have only just manifested, but all my relationships before Jamie have always fallen down, and it's usually because of sex."

"Even with today's modern technology, a phalloplasty won't give you full sexual function," Beverly says. "You will still need external help to have regular intercourse."

"But I will be able to have regular intercourse," I say. "Which I can't, the way I am. And Jamie looks so happy, now she's had her SRS, there's a glow about her, something that says 'I am whole'. I want that glow. I want... I want to be a man."

"I shouldn’t need to remind you that in the eyes of the law, you ARE a man," Beverly says. "But I understand where you're coming from. As I said in our last meeting, there's no guarantee that you'll get this 'glow' you're talking about if you have SRS, and the recovery period will be a lot longer than Jamie's."

"I know," I sigh. "I'm aware of all the risks... But I'm also aware of all the rewards. You also said last time that it has to be my decision... And I've decided. I want you to book me in for SRS." As the words leave my mouth, I shudder. Not since I came out to my parents on my sixteenth birthday have I felt this nervous. The words I've just said... They're not idle chatter. They're serious, life-changing in every imaginable way words.

"Are you absolutely, fully sure that this is what you want?" Beverly asks.

"It is," I reply without hesitation. I take a very shaky breath as Beverly simply smiles and nods.

"I'll make enquiries to get you booked in for the second opinion," Beverly states calmly. "But I'll also provisionally book you a slot for SRS. The waiting list is going to be about a year and a half, I'm afraid."

"...And there's no guarantee that Jamie and I will still be together 18 months from now," I muse quietly. "But I will still want to be a man."

"This is a big step," Beverly says. "But I can tell it's not one you're taking lightly. And a part of me is proud that you're taking this step."

"Thanks," I reply, my heart finally settling down to its normal speed. After leaving the office- with an armful of pamphlets and websites about SRS- I check my phone for messages from Jamie, only to discover a missed call from Keith instead.

"Hi mate," I say, calling Keith back.

"Hi Stu," Keith says. "You busy right now?" I have to bite my tongue to keep from telling Keith all about my meeting- he's easily my best male friend and will be very high on the list of people to tell...

"Um, not anymore," I say.

"Oh?" Keith teases. "Doing anything exciting?" Despite knowing that I'll get in a LOT of trouble, I can't hold my tongue any longer.

"Ever heard of a phalloplasty?" I ask Keith, who laughs excitedly.

"Oh god," Keith chuckles. "Don't tell me you had it done this morning?"

"No," I chuckle. "But I may have booked myself in for one... Obviously I'd appreciate it if you didn't blab this to anyone, not yet anyway."

"Not even to your new girlfriend?" Keith teases.

"Ahh, she told you," I laugh. "No, not even to her, I'd prefer to be the one to tell her."

"No worries, mate," Keith says. "I'm coming round to pick you up, then we're heading back to Jamie's, then out for lunch, is that okay?"

"Sure," I reply with a smile. When Keith arrives a few minutes later- in a bright pink taxi cab with the Angels' faces painted on it, much to my surprise- I immediately jump into the back and slide next to Jamie, greeting her with a long, deep kiss that makes Charlotte (also in the back of the cab) giggle and bounce up and down excitedly. When we arrive back at Jamie's house, she makes a point of going in without our fingers or hands linked.

"Mum, dad," Jamie says with a smug smile. "There's something I need to tell you..."

"Umm," Mark says, clearly taken aback by Jamie's announcement. "Is- is it about your-"

"Nooo," Jamie teases, before finally grabbing my hand. "Stuart and I are boyfriend and girlfriend." Much to my infinite relief, both of Jamie's parents immediately jump out of their chairs and hug both of us, Mark giving me a long, hearty handshake as well.

"Fantastic news!" Jamie's dad beams. "You two are perfect for each other, you really are. I know you'll both be very, very happy together."

"Thanks, 'dad'!" I tease, making Mark laugh happily.

"If you'll excuse us," Jamie whispers, clearly surprised by how well her parents took the news, "I need to um, head upstairs for a bit..."

"You two go," Jamie's mum says with a giggle.

"They took that well," I say as I close the door to Jamie's bedroom.

"Tell me about it," Jamie sighs as she raises her dress and lowers her panties. "Every boyfriend I've had in the past, they've HATED... Especially Paul..."

"I knew they LIKED me," I muse, "but I always assume it was because we were friends, and if- eww!" I wince a little as Jamie applies a dollop of lubricant jelly to a long, dildo-like tube and pushes it into her vagina.

"Oh, BOY!" Jamie teases. "You knew I did this four times a day..."

"Yeah, I also know you have to poo as well," I giggle. "Doesn't mean I want to watch THAT either..."

"Hardly the same thing," Jamie sighs.

"Not exactly," I concede. "And god knows, I'll-" I pause before continuing, not wanting to reveal the surprise of my SRS to my new girlfriend. "I'll just have to get used to it, I suppose..."

"I won't have to do it as often as time goes on," Jamie says with a smile. "And I won't force you to watch every time, I promise. Shall we call this our first and last argument?"

"Works for me," I say with a smile, sitting down next to Jamie and giving her a long, tender kiss.

Before we leave the bedroom, Jamie insists on updating our Facebook status with news of our relationship, something I'm only too happy to do, especially when it receives over a hundred likes in a few minutes, and several messages reading 'OMG!!!' from Becca!

At lunch, I inform Jamie and Charlotte of my decision to have SRS, which gains me tight hugs from both women- especially Jamie. On the way home, my new girlfriend can't bear to tear herself away from my embrace- something that suits me perfectly fine.

"I almost can't believe it," Jamie whispers to me.

"Now you know how I felt when you had your surgery!" Charlotte teases.

"Yeah, I know," Jamie concedes, "But this- is it- is it because of us, because of you and me, that you're having the surgery? Because I wouldn’t want you to think that you were under any kind of obligation-"

"I've been transitioning since long before we met, remember?" I say. "I LOVE you. But I also love being a man... And if there's one thing that the last couple of weeks have taught me... Don't shy away from what you love, even if it'll be hard work."

"Are you implying that I'm 'hard work'?" Jamie teases.

"Or are you implying that she's the easiest thing in the world?" Charlotte asks. Keith chuckles as the two women put me on the spot- both answers are, of course, 100% wrong.

"Being a MAN is hard work," I sigh, earning disapproving stares from both women. "Yes, so is being a woman. Want to argue that I don't know what that's like?" Fortunately, both Charlotte and Jamie giggle as I defuse the tension.

"You just keep playing that trump card, bro," Keith chuckles. But in truth, I DON'T know what it's like to be a woman, I never have and I never want to.

All my life, I've felt male, and all my adult life, I've been a man. I don't need a penis to be a man. I don't need a girlfriend to be a man- but I do need Jamie to be happy. I do need a penis to stop the longing I've felt all my life. For the first time in a very, very long while, I feel complete, on the road to a place where I can finally say 'yes. This is who I am, and I am 100% satisfied with this person'. I can't wait to get there... And I can't wait to make that journey with Jamie at my side.

“I dunno man,” Keith moans as we fight together on a virtual battlefield. “I just feel that I should be there, you know? I mean, it is MY child…”

“It’s your decision,” I say. “You know Charlotte would love to have you there, it’s just whether or not you could stand being in the same room as her for a prolonged period of time…”

“You know, it’s funny,” Keith sighs. “For all she did… I do still love her.”

“PLEASE tell me you’re not going to crawling back to her…” I moan as I take a swig of my full-fat coke.

“’Crawling’?” Keith asks. “HELL no. …But I do miss her.”

“Would you ever take her back?” I ask quietly.

“I dunno,” Keith sighs. “Two months ago the answer would’ve been ‘fuck no’. But now…”

“You’re a better man than me,” I chuckle. “If Jamie ever slept with someone behind my back… I don’t know how I’d react.”

“There’s no danger of that EVER happening, mate,” Keith reassures me. “Jamie’s utterly BESOTTED with you, you know that.”

“True,” I sigh happily. “And the feeling is very much mutual. Though she has been a bit distant lately- well, ever since you and Charlotte split up, actually- whatever the girl equivalent of ‘bros before hoes’ is, I dunno. Doesn’t help that half our dates are being filmed for posterity either…”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of being a celebrity boyfriend,” Keith chuckles. We while away the next couple of hours shooting aliens on Keith’s PlayStation 4, before being interrupted by a knock on Keith’s bedroom door.

“Ready?” I whisper to Keith, who nods solemnly. “Come in!” Slowly, the door opens and Charlotte enters, flanked closely by Jamie, who is holding her hand.

“Here are the latest scan pictures,” Charlotte says, handing Keith a clutch of black-and-white images. “The baby’s perfectly strong and healthy… Just like his dad.”

“’His’ dad?” Keith asks with a twinge of excitement in his voice.

“Yep,” Charlotte says, rubbing her slightly swollen belly with a sad smile. “HE will be a beautiful baby boy, and I’m calling him Keith, just like his dad.” I can see Keith’s bottom lip start to wobble at this revelation.

“You okay, mate?” I ask quietly, to which Keith nods in response.

“You’ll forgive me if I still want that DNA test,” Keith says coldly, though I can tell he is a mess of emotions on the inside.

“Of course,” Charlotte whispers. “I, um, I should go, um, just wanted to give you the scans…”

“I’ll see you out,” Keith says, ushering the two women out of the room.

“You could at least look at the scans,” Jamie says with a hint of anger in her voice. “He IS your child…”

“And I will,” Keith replies, clearly taken aback by Jamie’s uncharacteristic hostility. “I- I just need a second…”

“We should go,” Charlotte whispers to Jamie, who simply nods in agreement, though she is still beaming a VERY disapproving stare at Keith.

“I’ll see you out,” Keith says, ushering both girls out of his room.

“See you at my place?” I say to Jamie, who barely has time to nod before she’s unceremoniously removed from the bedroom. I let out a sigh as the girls leave- as much as I love Jamie, and much as Keith is my best friend, when they’re together in a room with Charlotte I’d give anything to be anywhere else, especially since her bump has started showing. The only good thing about the situation is that I find myself apologising less and less for siding with Keith- if anything, Jamie would probably have a go at me for NOT supporting Keith. Sometimes I forget how long she’s been friends with him, something I need to remind myself when I step out onto Keith’s landing to see Keith giving Jamie a quick hug as the beautiful young woman leaves. I’ve long since known that Jamie has fancied Keith in the past, and that the attraction is mutual, and it’d be very easy for me to become jealous of his friendship with Jamie- but I know just how counterproductive that would be for BOTH relationships.

Still, as Keith comes back into his room and picks his game controller back up, I can’t help but comment on the hug.

“Thanks for pawing away at my girlfriend,” I joke as we resume shooting aliens.

“Oh shut up,” Keith sighs, his gaze wandering to the pile of papers Charlotte left on his nightstand. “You know, I DO really want to look at them…”

“That’s good, as you know Jamie’ll will ask me whether or not you did when I see her tonight,” I say. “We’ll take a break after this raid, we’ve been at this ages anyway.” I can tell by the smile on Keith’s face that he’ll be eager to get through the raid as fast as is humanly possible.

Sure enough, after we’ve finished massacring aliens, Keith and I- along with his parents and younger brother- scan through the pictures Charlotte left. When Keith discovered that Charlotte was cheating on him- again- he was devastated, especially as he had to find out second hand- but when he found out he was going to become a father, his attitude toward Charlotte softened almost overnight, which concerned me greatly. Keith’s not the toughest guy out there, and if was left alone with Charlotte… Chances are he’d take her back and start the whole vicious cycle all over again. I’ve made myself available 24/7 to help him whenever he has these ‘feelings’, but this has caused myself some stress, especially as Jamie has sided with Charlotte in much the same way.

If I was forced to choose between my friendship with Keith and my relationship with Jamie, it’d be a decision that would tear me apart, and yet it feels like I’m being asked to choose every second of every day. I LOVE Jamie, but as for Keith… Growing up the way I did, I always longed for a true ‘best mate’, someone I could hang around with, who’d accept me for the boy I truly am, who I could play football and cricket with and sit around all Saturday afternoon playing videogames and eating pizza. It took nearly a quarter of a century, but I finally have that. A friendship this precious… I simply can’t give it up, not even for a girl… Not even for a girl like Jamie…

As I drive home, I muse to myself on just how lucky I am to actually face this dilemma. I know several transgendered men who underwent the same transformation as me who don’t have it nearly as lucky- those who were shunned by their families, those who struggled to find friends, or a lover… I have the ‘holy trinity’: a best friend, a girlfriend I truly love and who loves me in return and a family who have long since accepted me and love me for who I truly am.

I’m given a practical reminder of the last two things on that list when I walk through my front door and am immediately greeted by a long, deep kiss from my girlfriend, which makes both my parents, both my sisters and both their partners chuckle approvingly.

“Okay, we’re all here now,” dad says as I sit down next to Jamie, giggling quietly as she cuddles up next to me. “What’s the big announcement?”

“Oh please, could it be any more obvious?” Becca giggles as Emma and Lee get up and stand in front of our roaring fireplace.

“Don’t spoil it!” Emma chastises our little sister, before looking pointedly at myself, dad & Riley. “They’re MEN, they need to be led through things like this one step at a time!”

“Things like what?” I innocently ask, making all the women in the room laugh.

“BOY!” Jamie and Becca both yell at me, barely able to control their giggles.

“ANYWAY,” Emma says, silencing the room, “the reason I wanted to speak to you all is that Lee and I big news. We’re going to have a baby!” Before the news can sink in, mum and dad have already jumped off the sofa and are embracing Emma and Lee, closely followed by Becca and Riley. Jamie and I bring up the rear, largely thanks to Jamie literally having to drag my shocked self off the sofa.

“Oh my god oh my god!” Becca squeaks as she hugs Emma tightly. “I’m gonna be an auntie!”

“Um, congratulations,” I say, giving Emma a big hug. “Does- does this make me an uncle?”

“Yep!” Lee says, giving me a hearty handshake. “Your new job title is ‘cool uncle who’ll teach music to the kid’, reckon you’re up to it?”

“Umm, I guess,” I say, still shocked by the revelation.

“How far gone are you?” Mum asks, clearly giddy at the prospect of becoming a grandmother for the first time.

“Two months,” Emma explains. “Don’t have an exact due date yet but it’ll be come time toward the end of July…” I stand in a daze, listening to Emma and Lee gush about their impending arrival, but it barely seems real to me.

“Hey,” Jamie whispers to me, gently grabbing my hand. “Stu, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” I ask, snapping out of my funk. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. And that’s ‘Uncle Stu’!” Jamie giggles as Emma wrests my hand from her grip, before grabbing Becca’s hand as well.

“We’ve also decided,” Emma announces excitedly, “that the baby’s ‘cool uncle’ and ‘cool auntie’ should also be ‘cool godparents’!” Becca gasps excitedly, hugging Emma tightly, whilst I simply chuckle before awkwardly joining in the group hug.

“God above,” I laugh, “between Mary’s kid, Charlotte’s kid and now you, is there going to be any infant in London I’m NOT godfather of?”

“What Charlotte and Mary do is up to them,” Emma says proudly. “I can’t think of any better godfather for my baby than my little bro!”

“And my little bro too,” Lee laughs. “Though he stretches the ‘cool’ bit of ‘cool uncle’ a bit too far…” The whole family laughs as we celebrate the good news, news that I still only sinking in for me.

A little while later, whilst Emma, mum, Becca and Jamie are looking through maternity and baby websites, I find myself in the kitchen celebrating with Lee, dad and Riley.

“To the new dad!” Dad toasts, raising a glass of champagne to his son-in-law.

“To the new granddad!” Lee toasts, making dad laugh with embarrassment.

“Gonna have to get used to that,” dad chuckles.

“Maybe now you’ll FINALLY retire?” I tease, making dad roll his eyes. “You ARE sixty-five…”

“What, put my feet up with a pipe and slippers and tell stories to my grandchildren all day long?” Dad snorts. “…Doesn’t sound too bad, now that I come to think about it! Also, we missed a toast: to the new uncle!” I chuckle as the glasses are raised in my honour.

“And to the new- whatever you are, Riley!” I laugh, making the younger man roll his eyes.

“To the new auntie’s boyfriend,” Lee laughs. “Hey Stu, I bet you never thought growing up that you’d ever be someone’s uncle, right?” A brief pause fills the kitchen- whilst I’m not exactly secretive about my ‘status’, it’s not something my family have ever been comfortable discussing openly. As far as they’re concerned, I’m a man and I always have been- which is just the way I like it. I do have to concede, however, that my brother-in-law DOES have a point…

“Yeah,” I laugh. “If you’d told me ten years ago that I’d be in here rather than out there with the women…”

“If you’d told ME that ten years ago, heh,” dad laughs, giving me a playful pat on the shoulder.

“On a related note, what are you hoping for?” I ask Lee, who takes a deep breath.

“I honestly don’t mind,” Lee says with a happy smile. “Boy OR girl, I’ll love them just the same.”

“And, should the quote-unquote ‘worst’ happen and it turns out to be boy THEN girl or girl THEN boy?” I ask the expectant father, who is clearly stumped by the question.

“They’ll still be my child,” Lee says stoically. “They’ll ALWAYS be my child.” Another brief, awkward pause fills the room before dad chuckles and pours another glass of champagne.

Later that night, as Jamie and I- both the worse for wear after several glasses of champagne- snuggle up together in bed, I can’t help but chuckle about the fact that I, born as a girl called Claire, am now legally a man called Stuart. And not just that- I’m about to become an uncle too.

“Hey,” Jamie whispers. “You seemed kinda… Distant today, after Emma made her ‘announcement. Penny for your thoughts?” I giggle as the amazing girl effortlessly sees straight into my soul.

“That kid,” I explain, “all throughout their life, will only ever know me as ‘Uncle Stu’.”

“Yep,” Jamie says happily. “What about it?”

“They’ll have absolutely no idea that I was anything other than a man,” I laugh. “Even anatomically, my SRS will only be a few months after they’re born…”

“Aww,” Jamie coos, giving me a tight cuddle. “For what it’s worth, I don’t see you as anything other than a man, and I never have…”

“Even when you take ‘this’ into account?” I ask, slowly sliding Jamie’s soft hand toward my crotch.

“ESPECIALLY when I take it into ‘hand’,” Jamie giggles, grabbing my engorged clitoris and squeezing and stroking it until I explode in a long, powerful orgasm.

"I love you," I gasp, kissing Jamie on the lips before we both fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms...

I wake up the following morning with my body still entwined with Jamie’s, our most sensitive areas still pressed together. As I cuddle the soft, warm girl in my arms, I realise that there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, right now.

“Mmm,” Jamie stirs, snuggling closer into my embrace. “Morning, sexy…”

“Morning, sexy,” I echo. “Feel that I owe you for last night…” Jamie giggles as I slowly run my tongue up her labia, gently sucking at her own clitoris, squeezing it between my lips and feeling her body slowly start to buck.

"Oh god," Jamie gasps as I stimulate her further and further.

"Oh god!" Jamie yells. "Yes! YES! KEITH!"

My whole body freezes as Jamie yells my best friend’s name. Slowly, and slightly shaking, I raise my head above the sheets and stare dumbfounded at Jamie, who looks just as shocked as I do.

“Ja-Jamie…” I whisper, my mind a blur of confusion, heartbreak and anger.

“Stu…” Jamie whispers. Immediately, I jump out of bed and brace myself against a chest of drawers to stop myself from hyperventilating.

“My name’s not Keith!” I yell hysterically. “My name’s not Keith!”

“Stu, I didn’t mean anything-“ Jamie pleads, grabbing my shoulders from behind.

“No, no!” I yell, shaking myself free of Jamie’s touch. “Get dressed!” Still freaking out, I reach into my underwear drawer and pull on three pairs of boxer shorts, one over the other.

“Stu, please, you need to calm down,” Jamie says to no avail.

“How many times have you fucked him, huh?” I ask.

“STU!” Jamie yells angrily, snapping me out of my frenzy.

“I- I’m sorry,” I say, stripping off my outer pairs of boxer shorts. “I, um- heh, you have to admit, that came as a bit of a surprise…”

“Once,” Jamie says with a look of pure guilt on her face. Immediately, my heart sinks into my stomach and I grab onto the chest of drawers for support. “We had sex once, only once.”

“Wh-when?” I ask, barely fighting back tears.

“About a week after my birthday,” Jamie says. “Just after he broke up with Charlotte, we were fighting... Stu, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I-“

“I think you should leave,” I say coldly. Silently, and with tears in her eyes, Jamie nods and pulls on her underwear and her dress. Normally, I’d be enthralled by the sight of Jamie getting dressed, normally I’d drink down every second of the sight, but now… I can’t imagine a bigger betrayal. My girlfriend and my best friend, the two people who should love and respect me the most… Even if it’s just the once, as Jamie claims, it means that they’ve been lying to my face for at least two months.

My mind remains a blur as Jamie leaves my house. Every time we made love, was Jamie thinking of Keith? Every time we hung out, played videogames, was Keith secretly laughing in my face, knowing that he’d banged my girlfriend and I had no idea? I’ve always known there was a mutual attraction between Jamie and Keith, if I wasn’t seeing Jamie I’d probably be all in favour of them getting together, but I LOVE Jamie, I’m IN LOVE with Jamie… Keith must have known how much this would hurt, how much this would destroy me if I found out…

I pick up my phone and press the speed dial button for Keith. I take two deep breaths to calm myself down. I have to give him the chance to explain himself, I can’t simply tear his head off, he IS still my best friend…

“Morning Stu!” Keith says cheerily into the phone, making my blood boil.

“Alright mate,” I reply as cheerfully as possibly. “Up to much today?”

“Um, just some coursework,” Keith replies. “Thought you were working all day today?”

“Got a bit of creative block,” I semi-lie. “Figured a couple of hours of Destiny should help clear it.”

“You HAVE got a PS4,” Keith laughs. “Nothing stopping you from playing it anyway…” You slippery bastard… I think to myself. Has Jamie already spoken to you, warned you that I’m ‘on the warpath’?

“Not the same,” I laugh, barely able to hold my tongue.

“Ehh, okay then,” Keith laughs. “Couple of hours won’t hurt. See you in a bit, mate.” I take a deep breath as I end the call and head out to my car, barely taking the time to say goodbye to my family. When I arrive at Keith’s, I receive my usual greeting of a can of coke and a PS4 controller. I settle down for the impromptu gaming session, but my skin is crawling from being so close to the man who had sex with my girlfriend behind my back.

“What song you stuck on?” Keith asks. “You said you were having a hard time with work?”

“Ugh,” I sigh, hastily crafting a response. “It’s less the work, more… I had another falling-out with Jamie last night.”

“Ahh, that sucks mate,” Keith says. “You two seem to fall out every other week…” I bristle as Keith comments on the relationship he may very well have destroyed. Jamie was good enough, honest enough to come clean to me… I need to give Keith the same chance, appeal to his guilt… Assuming he has any…

“It because we love each other so much,” I say stoically. “I think we both hold each other in such high regard, if the other makes a mistake it hurts all the more…”

“Yeah, I guess…” Keith says. A brief pause fills the room as we continue our gaming session.

“God knows I’m not innocent,” I say. “Though Jamie’s cocked up a few times too…”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Keith says. I can tell from the look on his face that he’s hiding SOMETHING, and obviously I already know what it is… I want to give him the chance to tell me of his own accord, but he’s clearly not, and my blood pressure is rising and rising…

“Stand up a sec,” I say, pausing the game. With a confused look on his face, Keith complies, and a nanosecond later I throw the hardest punch I can manage into his abdomen. Keith drops to his knees, winded, and looks up at me with a face full of confusion and furious anger.

“What the FUCK, mate!?” Keith yells.

“You! My girlfriend! That bed!” I shout, letting out all my bottled-up fury. “THAT’s what!”

“…Shit,” Keith says, still clearly angry about the punch but- fortunately- not looking like he’s going to retaliate. “Mate, you need to understand, it was just the one time, I’d just broken up with Charlotte, you and Jamie were fighting-“

“Don’t. Just… Don’t,” I say, calming myself down with several deep breaths. “I believe you. I believe you when you said it was just once. I shouldn’t…”

“Mate,” Keith says softly, standing up. “I NEVER wanted to hurt you. Believe me, I know what it’s like…”

“So you thought you’d treat me to the same feeling?” I spit. “Some fucking friend you are!”

“It. Was. A. Mistake,” Keith says. “We both regretted it immediately as it happened, honest!”

“That doesn’t excuse you lying to my face for the last two and a half months!” I yell, barely restraining myself rom punching Keith again. “And you! And Jamie! If it had been me who’d slept with Charlotte, you’d have torn me to pieces!”

“Oh please,” Keith snorts. “As if Charlotte would’ve slept with you, she only likes REAL men…”

The next few seconds pass as though I’m in a trance, like I’m not in control of my body. In an instant, I’ve rugby tackled Keith to the ground and am sat on top of him raining punched down on his arms, which he’s brought up to block his face. As control returns to me and I hesitate, Keith seizes the opportunity to retaliate and punches me HARD in my mouth, splitting open the inside of my bottom lip. Keith capitalises on my dazed state by pinning my sore face to the carpet underneath his knee.

“CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” Keith yells as I yell with pain and frustration. It takes a while, but I eventually calm down long enough for Keith to release me, though he’s obviously keeping me at arm’s length.

“You were my best friend!” I yell, my speech slurred thanks to my damaged mouth. “You of all people, I should be able to trust!”

“Stu-“ Keith says, but I’ve had enough- I can’t bear to spend another second in the man’s presence.

“Fuck you!” I yell, walking out and heading down to my car. After taking a few deep breaths, I start the engine and head home, heading immediately up to my room without even saying so much as ‘hi’ to my assembled family. I collapse face-first on my bed and take a few seconds to control my emotions, but it’s to no avail, as within seconds I’ve broken down in floods of very unmanly tears. I’ve just about cried myself dry when a faint knock on my door brings me back to reality.

“Can I come in?” Dad says softly, poking his head around my door.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, drying my eyes and sitting up.

“Don’t tell either of your sisters this,” dad says, sitting down next to me, “but out of the three of you, you were by far the most beautiful baby. Don’t get me wrong, all three of you were truly, truly beautiful and perfect. I know, I’m your father, I’m obliged to say this…”

“Getting anywhere near a point?” I jokingly ask, earning a playful shove from dad.

“The point is,” dad says, “I always knew you’d be, well, ‘popular’. Always knew you’d break someone’s heart one day, and get your heart broken in return… Just never envisaged you looking like this when you did, heh.”

“If I’m honest,” I sigh, “there were days when I thought I’d never EVER look like this, or live life the way I am.”

“Really?” Dad chuckles. “You seemed pretty damned sure the day you ‘came out’ to us… Hard to believe that was nearly nine years ago.”

“Nine years during which I’ve plenty of other girlfriends,” I say. “I’ll get over Jamie.”

“I wish I could believe you,” dad sighs. “Don’t forget, you’re still my son, in a lot of ways I know you better than you know yourself, and I’ve NEVER seen you as head over heels about a girl as you are with Jamie. Son… What happened?” I take a deep breath, only to start suddenly crying again, prompting dad to give me a heartfelt hug.

“Let it out, son, let it out,” dad says as I cry into his shoulder.

“She slept with my best friend,” I blub.

“God, you just don’t get any of the breaks, do you?” Dad sighs. “Is this the same ‘best friend’ who gave you this?” Dad asks, pointing to my swollen lip.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“Some friend,” dad chuckles. "Obviously if he'd done that to you nine years ago, well, let's just say I'd make sure he went away with more than just a fat lip!"

“In fairness, I did hit him first,” I say, making dad burst out laughing.

"Is that your first ever fight?" Dad asks.

"First one I ever lost," I moan, making dad laugh again.

"Welcome to being a MAN," dad says. "There's no shame in losing a fight, as long as you learn from it and don't repeat the same mistakes."

"And is Jamie a mistake I shouldn't repeat?" I ask, suddenly feeling every bit the little girl I was 20 years ago.

"Only you can say for certain," dad says. "All I'll say is that if you didn't love her as much as I know you do, it wouldn't hurt this much. I'll be downstairs if you need anything, ANYTHING, son." I take a long, deep breath and let it out in a loud, relaxing sigh.

"Thanks, dad," I say, giving my father one more hug.

After dad leaves, I collapse back on my bed, but I get very little chance to relax before my phone beeps with a new text message.

"Jamie?" I think out loud as I read the text.

'Hi mate,' the message- from Keith- reads. 'Mate, I am sorry, so, so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I've fucked up, I've made the biggest mistake of my life, please, please can we talk face to face without fists getting involved?' Despite Keith's request, I ball my sore hand into a fist and punch it into my pillow, before tossing my phone back on my nightstand, Keith's message read but not replied to. Another knock at my door interrupts my thoughts before I can lay back down, and Becca lets herself into my room, clutching a plastic ice pack.

"For your mouth, idiot," Becca says, handing me the cold parcel, which I gratefully apply to my mouth. "Dad told me what happened... Are you okay?"

"No," I moan, prompting Becca to give me a long, sisterly hug.

"You're, um, kinda dripping down my back," Becca giggles, releasing the hug and pointing to the water marks on the back of her tight top.

"Sorry," I say with a slight giggle of my own.

"It'll dry," Becca says. "Will- will you be okay?"

"I dunno," I say honestly.

"Have you talked to Jamie since this morning?" Becca asks cautiously.

"No," I sigh. "I mean, I want to, but at the same time, I DON'T want to... God, why did this have to happen to me? If Jamie had fucked someone else, I'd be able to confide in Keith, if Keith and I had fallen out, I'd always have Jamie... But both of them... Who do I have left?"

"Us, you moron!" Becca says, giving me another tight, welcome hug. "You'll ALWAYS have me, and Emma, and mum and dad..."

"I really, really love her..." I blub.

"Trust me, it's obvious," Becca giggles. "You should call her. If not now, then later on today... Just don't leave it TOO long, okay?"

"When did you become the 'wise old woman' again?" I tease, earning a playful whack in the arm.

"I'm only a teenager for another four months," Becca laughs. "Got to grow up eventually!"

"Trust me, adult life can truly SUCK at times," I say, making Becca giggle happily.

"Call her!" My baby sister orders as she leave me alone with my thoughts and my ice pack. I lay back down on my bed, but Becca's words resonate in my head, and before too long, my phone is in my hand, my finger resting on the button for Jamie's speed dial. I shiver as I push the button and the line is picked up after just one ring.

"Stu?" Jamie asks expectantly.

"Hi Jamie," I say, my speech still distorted by my split lip.

"Stu... You sound terrible," Jamie says, her voice filled with clear emotion. "Keith told me what happened, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay..."

"I'm probably going to be eating the next couple of meals through a straw," I joke. "I'm fine... My mouth will heal, but what you did to my heart- that's going to take some time to repair."

"Stu," Jamie blubs, and the sound of her crying, in pain, only hurts me more.

"Jamie," I say, interrupting Jamie before she has a chance to speak. "I- I want to forgive, but I don't know that I can."

"I promise, I swear, I swear on my parents' life I will never, ever cheat on you again," Jamie pleads, but every word only wrenches my heart more and more.

"I want to believe you," I say. "I really, really want to... But I can't, Jamie, I'm sorry, but I just can't. Not immediately."

"What are you saying?" Jamie asks between obvious tears.

"I think we should take a break," I say, barely choking back tears of my own. "At least until after Christmas. Take some time to figure out what it is we really want."

"You," Jamie whispers. "You're what I want."

"Really?" I ask coldly. "Because I know for a fact you've wanted Keith longer than you've ever wanted me, and he is now available, AND you know he wants you..."

"Stu, please don't," Jamie says, anger seeping into her voice. I take the hint- one thing I've learned from my relationship with Jamie is how easy it is to push her buttons, and now is NOT the time to do that, even with my paranoia running wild.

"I'll see you around, Jamie," I say, pushing the 'end call' button before the distraught girl has a chance to argue further. I lay back down on my bed and have yet another quiet weep, before the 'new text message' notification on my phone beeps again, and yet again, I find myself hoping that it's from Jamie, and yet again, my hopes are dashed.

'Mate, I know you've read my message, the message- again from Keith- reads. 'Remember we both have iPhones? Text me back when you read this.'

"Fuck you, you cunt," I spit, before taking a deep breath and composing a reply.

'I have nothing to say to you,' I reply, hoping to draw a line under the day's events, only to be frustrated when my message alert beeps again.

'Mate, I feel like the biggest twat in the world,' Keith's message reads. 'Please, I want to make it up to you, let me know what it is, I don't want to lose my best friend. If you want me to never see Jamie again, I'll make that promise.' I sigh, knowing that Keith isn't going to stop his pleading until I've forgiven him.

'We'll talk tomorrow at your place,' I type, receiving a basic 'OK' message in reply.

I spend the rest of the day in my room, listening to music and trying to get work done, before heading to bed just after 10pm. Less than fifteen minutes after I get my still-sore head down, though, I'm interrupted by yet another text message on my phone.

"What is it now, Keith?" I sigh, but when I read the message, it's not from Keith, but from Krystie- my ex-girlfriend and probably Jamie's best friend besides Charlotte.

'You absolute rat,' the message reads. 'Jamie is absolutely devastated. What the fuck did you do?' I roll my eyes at the accusatory tone of the message. It'd be VERY easy for me to drop both Jamie and Keith in it, like throwing a lit match into a box of fireworks and standing back to watch the resulting explosions...

'You don't know the whole story,' I bluntly reply. 'Stop throwing accusations around until you get your facts straight.' My message was probably a little TOO harsh- Krystie's always prided herself on her loyalty to her friends, and it IS an admirable trait... But as I lay here with a banging headache, a split lip and a heart torn in two, the last thing I need is an angry ex-girlfriend ripping me to pieces.

When I wake up my head’s still pounding, though the swelling in my mouth is thankfully starting to go down. I check my phone for another message from Krystie, but thankfully there isn’t one. Before I started seeing Jamie, Krystie would probably have been the ex-girlfriend I thought of most fondly- she’s hot-headed, sure, but she’s also very warm and friendly, and one of the bubbliest people I know. Even after we split up, we still had a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement for a brief while, and if it weren’t for the text message- and the fact that I’ve recently set Krystie up with one of my musician friends, a relationship that seems to be blossoming as fast as my own relationship is collapsing- I’d be straight on the phone asking for ‘benefits’.

However, when my phone beeps to alert me of a new text message, it’s neither Krystie nor Jamie trying to get in touch with me, but Keith, my now ex-best friend.

‘Hi mate,’ the message reads, making me bristle, but to nowhere near the extent it would have last night. ‘What time you coming round today?’ I remember Becca’s and dad’s words yesterday before composing my response.

‘Need to catch up on work today,’ I reply. ‘Can you drop round mine?’

‘Sure,’ the immediate reply reads. After showering, I get dressed in my usual jeans & sweatshirt, but I pause to look at myself in the mirror before pulling on my top, gently fingering the long, pink scars that run across my chest. I’m not under any illusion that life as a man is any harder than life as a woman, but with the pain in my mouth, and the bruise forming on the side of my head… If my name had still been Claire, Keith wouldn’t have laid a finger on me, he wouldn’t have dared, and I truly believe that dad would have followed up on his threat if Keith had harmed me in anyway. But now that I’m Stuart… I can’t have ‘daddy’ fight my fights for me. I’ve got to take my knocks, painful as they are…

After a very cold breakfast, I sit down at my computer and immerse myself in my work, hoping that the music will distract me from my worries. It works a little TOO well, however, as my headphones mean I’m unable to hear the knock on my bedroom door, causing me to jump (and subsequently completely ruin a keyboard part) when Keith taps me on the shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa, I come in peace,” Keith says, holding his hands up and laughing. “How’s your mouth?”

“You tell me,” I say, pulling down my top lip to show Keith the damage.

“Ehh,” Keith grimaces. “I am really, really sorry about that mate. For what it’s worth, you left a mark too…” Keith rolls up his sleeves to display a series of nasty yellow bruises on his forearms that could only have been caused by my balled fists.

“You drew blood,” I joke. “You win.”

“Yeah, not sure that’s how fights work,” Keith chuckles. “Apart from your mouth, how are you doing?”

“Been better,” I sigh. “Jamie and I are now officially on a break.”

“Ah, that sucks mate,” Keith sighs, sitting down on my bed.

“And to answer your next question,” I say coldly. “If you want to- well, if you want Jamie…”

“I’m not going THERE again,” Keith sighs.

“If you and Jamie like each other- and you clearly do- then you should,” I say.

“She likes YOU,” Keith says.

“She’s liked you a lot longer than she’s liked me,” I moan. “You know that, surely?”

“Yeah,” Keith sighs. “But some things come at too high a price. Especially as Jamie’s also going to be godmother to my son…”

“Has Charlotte told you she’s also picked me as godfather?” I say with a hint of a smug grin on my face.

“Yep,” Keith chuckles. “Saved me the trouble of picking you myself. You’re going to be busy splitting godfather duties between Kristina-Leigh and Keith junior, heh.”

“AND my sister’s kid,” I say. “Emma’s pregnant, 2 months. Only found out a couple of days ago.”

“Oh mate, that’s awesome!” Keith laughs. “2 months would mean that she’s due in July, right? That’s cool, imagine if your niece and Keith junior went to the same school and became boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Who’s to say the child will be a girl?” I say smugly.

“We’ll find out when she- or he- is born, I guess,” Keith replies.

“Yeah,” I say. “They said that about me too, remember?” Keith lets out a loud, hearty laugh.

“Touché, mate, touché,” Keith chuckles. “Mate… Are we good? I mean yes, I’m going to be apologising for this- all of this- for years, I’m more than prepared to do that…”

“We’re OKAY,” I say. “Gonna be a while before we get back to ‘good’.”

“But we are gonna get back there, right?” Keith asks cautiously.

“Probably,” I say, switching off my keyboard and handing Keith a PlayStation controller.

“Destiny day?” Keith asks as I switch on the videogame.

“Nah, Mortal Kombat,” I say. “Seems more appropriate somehow.” Keith laughs as I load up the game and we spend the next two hours beating lumps out of each other- but only in digital form. After Keith leaves, I return to my work, but my mind is filled with images of the blonde beauty I’ve shared my life with for the past eight months. Even when I try not to love her, I’m reminded of just why we spent so much time together, why I adore her so much… Despite myself, I pick up my phone and dial her speed dial. Once again, the phone is answered after the first ring.

“Stu…” Jamie says softly. “How- how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Jamie, I- I just needed to talk to you, see how you were doing…”

“I’ve also been better,” Jamie sighs. “Had a girls night last night, onesies and ice cream, heh.”

“Was Becca there?” I ask. “Don’t recall hearing her go out…”

“No,” Jamie replies. “It was the usual ten minus her and Mary.”

“That would explain the angry text I got from Krys then,” I joke. “I haven’t told anyone WHY we’re fighting, well, not apart from my family.”

“Thank you,” Jamie whispers. “I’m steering clear of all the news websites, last thing I need is to see a picture of my face with the word ‘slut’ branded across it…”

“I don’t think you’re a slut,” I say softly. “Jamie… If you want to be with Keith-“

“No,” Jamie replies forcefully. “I can’t do that, not to you, not to Charlotte.”

“Keith and Charlotte are long since finished,” I say.

“…But what about us?” Jamie asks, clearly on the verge of tears.

“…We had a good run,” I say, I choking back tears of my own.

“No…” Jamie whispers. “Please, please don’t make this break permanent…”

“You need to decide what you want,” I say. “With a clear head, you need this break as much as I do. Jamie… I do hope that we can remain friends. For what it’s worth… I DO forgive you.”

“I hope we can be friends too,” Jamie whispers. “If you need space, I’ll give you it...”

“I’ll see you around, Jamie,” I say, hanging up the phone and collapsing back on my bed in floods of tears. Forgiving Jamie is the easy part. Forgetting, allowing myself to trust her again… That’s the hard part. And if she does end up with Keith, that’s okay, they’ll both be great together, I’ve long since thought that.

And I’ll be fine. Really, I will- pain fades, and there are plenty of other fish in the sea, I’m sure I can find someone I can love just as much as I love Jamie. Jamie’s friend Hannah- publicly considered the sexiest of all the Angels- is still somehow single, and whilst she’s two inches taller than me, we’ve always got on well. Emma’s always trying to set me up with some of her friends from work, Becca will occasionally try the same with her uni mates…

Who says lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place, anyway?

“Jamie?” I ask as I open the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here,” Jamie says breathlessly, “because I love you, Stuart.” My legs start to wobble as I hear the words I’ve longed to hear, but in my head, I know what I’m hearing is too good to be true. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, steadying my nerves before replying.

“You love me… but?” I ask.

“No buts,” Jamie says with a smile and a playful roll of her eyes. “Plenty of ‘and’s, though. I love you AND I want to be with you. I love you AND I’m IN love with you. I love you… AND I love you more than anyone else.”

“’Anyone’ else?” I ask, the smile returning to my face.

“EVERYONE else,” Jamie giggles after rolling her eyes yet again. Jamie leans in and kisses me, and all my tensions melts away as I surrender to the best kiss of my entire life…

I open my eyes and blink twice to readjust to the darkness of my bedroom, stretching my tired body in my bed. Every time my mind empties, I find myself back on my doorstep last Boxing Day, replaying over and over in my mind the moment that Jamie ‘chose’ me, the moment I ‘won’. I turn my head to the left, and my heart instantly melts at the sight of the slumbering girl gently breathing in and out. Even without make-up, she is a true beauty, and her loose, sandy blonde tresses falling in front of her face only enhance her looks.

“Mmm,” Jamie mumbles as I gently brush the hair out of her face. “Stu…” I shiver slightly as I she sleepily calls my name. Maybe she’s dreaming of me right now, dreaming of US… And yet I can’t help but remember the circumstances behind our temporary separation. Ever since our reconciliation eight weeks ago, we’ve made love countless times. One thing I quickly learned about Jamie is that she is very much a ‘yeller’, and every time she yells my name during our lovemaking, I feel like a king… But I’m always paranoid, worried that she may yell another man’s name instead. Not just any other man, but the man who used to be my best friend.

It’s not that I don’t understand that Keith has a lot on his plate. He’s finishing off his Master’s degree, after all, and there is the ‘small’ matter of his about to become a father. But still… Keith has distanced himself not just from me, but from the rest of the boys as well.

Jamie and her friends have a tradition that every Friday, every girl who’s available goes on a night out, hitting various clubs where they get treated like princesses, and every Saturday, they have a ‘night in’ at Charlotte’s house (the only place large enough to hold their growing ‘extended family’). I and the boys- Jonathan, Dan, Paul Kennedy, Mikey, Riley and (formerly) Keith- have a similar tradition, only instead of going out on Fridays, we stay in, order pizza, play videogames and generally get rid of the tension of the week. On Saturdays, we used to go out, sometimes hitting clubs ourselves to find hook-ups for those of us who are still single, but in recent times we’ve taken to having boys’ nights in on Saturdays as well, mainly because Dan can’t make both nights due to babysitting duties.

Last year, the ‘boys’ nights in’ always took place in Keith’s ‘man cave’ that he had built in Charlotte’s back garden. Ever since he separated from Charlotte, they took place at Keith’s vast house (sometimes his little brother would come and hang out with us too). Now… Keith hasn’t been seen at a boys’ night- in or out- since Christmas, and I can’t help but feel responsible. Jamie chose me- but she could easily have chosen Keith instead, and he’s not taking the rejection well.

Despite the fact that I’m laid in bed next to the most beautiful woman in the world, when I fall asleep, it’s Keith I’m thinking of, rather than Jamie, but when I wake up and see Jamie stood at the end of my bed, stark naked having just come from the shower, all my thoughts turn to the woman I love. She obviously hasn’t noticed that I’ve woken up as she pulls a clean set of underwear out of her drawer (we keep some clean clothes at each other’s house), and my hands begin to shake as she slowly slides her thong up her legs, giggling slightly as the thin strap of the scanty undergarment nestles between her buttocks. As she clips on her bra, however, I find my memory taking me back to the summer of 2008- and the last time I ever wore a bra.

As a girl, I was always larger than average, both in terms of height and ‘width’, and whilst this made my transition easy later on, at the start, it was an exercise in pure frustration. I had C-cup breasts by the time I was 15 years old, and when I attended college as ‘Stuart’ for the first time, aged 16, I took every step I could to hide them, taping them down with an elastic bandage, restraining them under special ‘compression vests’, but everything I did left me in discomfort, often outright pain… Pain made all the worse by the fact that I was studying music. Playing the keyboard with repressed mammaries was hard, but playing the guitar was all but impossible. I barely scraped through my first year at college as a result of my constant discomfort, and when I started back the following September- which was also the one year anniversary of my starting HRT- I found myself relying on over-the-counter painkillers simply to get through the day. By the end of the second year at college, the testosterone has transformed my previously ‘perky’ breasts into sagging lumps of fat… And I wanted them gone as fast as possible.

Three days after I finished college, I found myself laid in a hospital bed wearing a sterile blue gown, almost wetting myself with fear. Despite my efforts to toughen myself up mentally- and 21 months of testosterone helping to rewrite my brain chemistry- I was still going in for a major operation, one that I had the potential- however small- of not waking up from.

“Okay, Mister Milton,” the doctor said as he injected a syringe into my IV. “I want you to count backwards from ten. Can you do that, please?”

“Ten,” I said, weakly nodding my head. “Nine, eight, seven… Siff- sick- six… Fiiii…”

When I woke up, I was still in the same bed, wearing the same sterile blue gown, but my chest was in a lot of pain. A LOT of pain, but unlike the pain and discomfort I’d felt over the previous two years, this was different. It was sharp, invasive, acute- and when I looked down at my chest, I almost started to cry. My breasts were gone, but in their place were two angry horizontal scars, almost like zippers underneath my now-redundant nipples.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, son!” Dad said, patting me on the shoulder. “…You- you’re not regretting it, are you?” I took a deep breath, and sighed long and loud.

“I- I don’t know,” I moaned. My eighteen year old self had a very clear image of how his transition would go- breasts off, reproductive organs out, penis on, job done. What he didn’t account for were the scars. In addition to the pain, they would be permanent reminders of what I once was- what I TRULY was inside, no matter what the outside looked like.

Over the summer, the scars faded, though I still wore bandages around my chest to ease the pain and speed up the recovery process. My first day at university was terrifying- not least because I was in a city over a hundred miles from home and a city known for higher-then-average crime levels. If I got ‘found out’… I was taller than average for a girl, but for a boy, I was still short, slender… And would have no chance in a fight.

I took a deep breath as I stared at myself in the short mirror that had been provided for my university dorm. Aside from some swelling around my scars, my chest was flat- easily passable for a man’s, if it wasn’t for the scars. Gingerly, I pulled my favourite t-shirt- one with the logo of my favourite band, the Foo Fighters, on the front- and pulled it over my head, taking care not to aggravate my scars. However, once my t-shirt was on, I looked… Normal. And as I walked into my first lecture, it was all I could do not to laugh. I was just one of many boys with short brown hair wearing a t-shirt celebrating their favourite band. Sure, I was shorter than average, my hips were still (at the time) a little wider than usual and my face was still unfortunately ‘cute’… But no one noticed, and if they noticed, they certainly didn’t care. At the end of that week, I and three friends went for a celebratory dinner at Hooters, where I couldn’t help but stare at the scantily-clad girls serving our food with a mixture of lust and relief- relief that I was finally on the side of the gender divide where I truly belonged.

"Mmm," I say, caressing Jamie's left breast from behind. "Soft lace..."

“Get off!” Jamie laughs, patting my hands away. “If you want to play with my bra so much, I’ll lend you one!”

“Your bras are only fun to play with when you’re wearing them,” I say, laughing harder as Jamie gives me a firm pat on my backside. I drink in the sight of Jamie as she continues getting ready for the day, applying her make-up, spraying on her perfume and putting on her jewellery, before stretching a pair of translucent black tights up her long, smooth legs, pulling on a lacy camisole followed by a tight black miniskirt, a tight blue top and a tiny pair of black ballerina flats. Every time I watch Jamie get dressed, it amazes me that for (more or less) the first sixteen years of my life, I would get dressed the exact same way as her, taking the exact same care to perfect my appearance… And hating every second of it.

After showering, I return to my bedroom, where Jamie watches me with the same eagerness with which I watched her get dressed, even though my dressing ‘sequence’ barely takes a minute as I pull on my boxer shorts, a pair of thick black socks, my favourite pair of black jeans, an old white t-shirt, a thick, red/brown sweater and my favourite pair of brown boots.

“Mmm,” Jamie says, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Cuddly…”

“I hope you’re not implying I’m getting fat!” I giggle, turning around and kissing my beautiful girlfriend on the lips. “Come on, if we don’t get this band sorted soon, Becca’s gonna skin both of us…” Jamie giggles as we walk down to my car, and we soon find ourselves in the office of Joshua Benedict- Jamie’s increasingly-rich agent- along with Joshua’s nephew Jonathan, my ex-girlfriend Krystie and her new boyfriend- and one of my best friends from university, who joined me on that first trip to Hooters- Mikey Dawson.

“There’s no way we’re not having Kayla,” I insist, earning sighs from Joshua and Jonathan but approving nods from my other three friends.

“Man, she looks about twelve!” Jonathan argues.

“Bit of an exaggeration?” Jamie laughs. “Even I way blown away by her singing, and I’m no music expert unlike these guys.”

“Seriously,” I say. “Foot down. Kayla Ford. Having.”

“Ooh, look at ‘Mr. Authority’!” Krystie teases. “Looking at her resume, I don’t see any formal dance training, then again, none of the girls we saw for a second audition do, apart from Abbey-Gayle.”

“…Doesn’t she go to your dance class?” Jonathan asks.

“That’s- ooh, funny,” Krystie snorts. “That’s still formal training and you know it!”

“Ladies, gentlemen!” Joshua booms as his nephew giggles at Krystie’s expense. “Stuart, are you absolutely sure Kayla would be a good fit for the band alongside your sister and my niece?”

“Positive,” I say. “Trust me when I say that if we don’t sign her, we’ll regret it really, really quickly.”

“Then it’s settled,” Joshua says. “Kayla joins the band. That leaves two spaces left to fill…”

The six of us spend the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon arguing about who to add to the band that Joshua has finally agreed to let me produce for Becca and his niece Adeola. Both women have long since craved fame, and have been unofficial members of the Angels (the public name of Jamie’s ‘gang’) for what feels like forever, but would rather be famous in their own right rather than be perceived as ‘hangers-on’ to Jamie and co. Becca and Adeola are both extremely talented singers, so a girl band was the natural option, meaning I’ve spent the last month pretending to be Simon Cowell as numerous young women sing their hearts out for a place in the band. Fortunately, Jamie also sat in on the auditions (as a considerably more attractive Cheryl Cole) so there was never any danger of her getting jealous!

“Girls’ night, then?” I ask my girlfriend as she grabs her bag and leaves the office.

“Of course,” Jamie says with a sweet smile that belies the fact that she is almost certainly going to get VERY drunk tonight. “See you later, sexy!” Jamie kisses me at the same time Krystie kisses Mikey, before both women walk off, giggling louder and louder as they go.

“…Boys’ night, then?” I ask, making Jon and Mikey chuckle as we walk in the opposite direction to the girls.

A few hours later, I find myself stood in Jonathan’s front room with a guitar in my hands- only rather than a regular guitar, this guitar is made out of plastic, and has brightly-coloured buttons where the frets should be.

“Seriously,” I say. “Load up Rocksmith, let me show you how this SHOULD be done.”

“Nope,” Jon laughs from his seat behind an equally-phoney drum kit. “You can play it on your birthday if you want, but tonight we’re playing a game we can ALL enjoy.”

“Though as it’s your birthday on Monday,” Paul laughs, microphone in hand, “you can pick the first song.”

“It’s no contest,” I say, scrolling down to a song all four of us have played on Rock Band 3 several times.

“Ah, how could it have been anything else?” Riley laughs from his seat on the sofa as Mikey pretends to tune his own plastic guitar. Within seconds, Mikey and I begin strumming away on our plastic guitars whilst Jon merrily pounds away at his plastic drums. On cue, lyrics appear on screen, and Paul takes a deep breath.

“Run and tell all of the Angels,” Paul sings as Mikey, Jon, Riley and I laugh at the appropriateness of the opening lyric.

"This could take all night
Think I need a devil to help me get things right
Hook me up a new revolution
‘Cause this one is a lie
We sat around laughing and watched the last one die…”

“Now I’m looking to the sky to save me,” all five of us sing in unison.

Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something to help me born out bright
I'm looking for a complication
Looking ‘cause I’m tired of lying
Make my way back home when I learn to fly high…"

The four of us (with ‘backing’ from Riley) finish off the rest of the song in good cheer, laughing happily as Jon, Mikey and I play the final notes of the song that I know like the back of my hand.

“Thirty K away from a personal best,” Jon announces. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

“There you go, Rile,” I say, handing my sister’s boyfriend my ‘guitar’ as I crash down on the sofa.

“Cheers,” the tall, blonde man says. “Is Jamie doing your party on Monday?”

“Yep,” I say. “Don’t get why we have to have a stupid theme…”

“Oh come on,” Paul laughs. “You enjoyed the Top Gear one we threw for Jamie’s teenaged friend, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “But ‘jeans and a leather jacket’ isn’t, you know, a ‘proper’ costume, this is…”

“Ah, you love it really,” Jon laughs. “And it’s not like it’s a massive, intricate costume either, just dungarees and a long-sleeved t-shirt.”

“And a fake moustache,” I say. “And a hat… If Jamie makes me wear the moustache for the whole night I’ve threatened to grow a real one.”

“No offence, mate,” Riley says. “I genuinely don’t mean this in a nasty way, but- can-“

“Can I grow a real one?” I say, finishing Riley’s sentence for him. “Yep. And a beard. It’s thin and patchy, but it will grow.”

“I never really see you with any stubble, though,” Paul says. “I just assumed…”

“I shave twice a week,” I explain. “Wednesdays and Sundays, if I didn’t shave for a week, maybe ten days you’d see something then. I would prove it, but I would kinda get killed by Jamie…” I roll my eyes as Riley mimes cracking a whip, along with the mandatory sound effect.

“…And you can’t retort,” Riley laughs. “If you do, you’ll be insulting your little sister.”

“I’ve spent the last twenty years doing precisely that,” I laugh. “Besides, a few months from now, you’re going to have to share her with the rest of the country…”

“Guys!” Jon announces, having selected the next song. “We here to talk about Becca’s second career as a dominatrix, or are we here to play?”

“Bring it on,” Paul laughs as Riley looks disapprovingly at Jon. The next song is let's Dance by David Bowie, after which I take over from Paul in front of the microphone.

“You assholes had better not do to me what we did to Keith last time we played this,” I say, referring to the time we ‘accidentally’ gave Keith ‘Hella Good’ by No Doubt when it was his turn on vocals.

“As if we’d do that,” Riley laughs, before an awkward silence fills the room.

“Have you invited him to your party?” Jon asks.

“Nah,” I whisper, shaking my head. “It’d be kinda awkward- it’s at Charlotte’s, and I know he- you know, he and Jamie…”

“If he’s still hung up on Jamie, that’s his problem,” Paul says bluntly. “She chose you, mate. He’s got to respect that.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s that easy,” I sigh. “Hurry up and pick a song already!” The other four men all chuckle as Jon complies with my request and picks a song that leaves me groaning- whilst it’s undoubtedly a great song, it’s exactly the type of song that I’d wanted to avoid. Once the intro is complete, I take a deep breath and prepare to sing.

“I want to break free…” I sing softly.

"I want to break free
I want to break free from your lies
You're so self-satisfied I don't need you
I've got to break free
God knows, God knows I want to break free..."

I take a bow at the end of the song- I'm not much of a singer, but I still (according to the game, anyway) put in a near-perfect performance- an especially impressive achievement when you're trying to match the immense vocal skill of Freddie Mercury. Jonathan also takes a bow- according to the game, his performance WAS perfect.

"Never mind Becca and Adeola," Riley laughs. "Maybe you two should form a band!"

"Yeah, learn to play a proper instrument and then we'll talk," I say, earning playful shoves from my friends. I'm quite happy to fill the role of 'real music snob' within our group- if it means I abandon the role of 'boy who used to be a girl'... I'll take that in a heartbeat.

After an entire concert's worth of songs, the five of us decide to call it a night. Paul drives us all home- I head home to my house, as Jamie and I typically sleep apart on Fridays (and often on Saturdays as well), but as I head to bed, I can't help but think about Keith. As hard as he may be studying, he'll still have spent tonight alone. Sure, he'll have his family, but his parents are both in their fifties, and his brother is only sixteen... Keith and I were more than just friends, we were mates, in a sense that very few people can understand or appreciate.

I'm still awake when I'm startled by the sound of the front door opening. For a fleeting moment I panic that our home is being invaded, but the tell-tale sound of stiletto heels clicking across the floor tells me that it's more likely to be Becca just in from her night out. As if my upcoming birthday wasn't enough reminder that I'm getting old, now I'm getting home hours before my baby sister...

I spend the whole of Saturday working, reviewing and re-reviewing audition tapes and interview transcripts so that when I go into work on Monday, I'll be able to give Joshua two definitive names to add to Becca, Adeola and Kayla in the band. All day, though, I find myself missing Jamie- even though we're in constant electronic communication- but much to my surprise, I find myself missing Keith as well, sometimes even more than Jamie.

As Sunday dawns, I remain alone in my bed whilst the rest of the house wakes up around me, but my mind is far from lazy. Tomorrow is my birthday, and more importantly, my birthday party... And it just wouldn't be complete without my best mate in it. With a renewed determination, I get up and get dressed, smiling as I all but run down the stairs.

"I'm heading out," I say to my parents, not even stopping to eat breakfast. "I'll be back later."

"Okay, um, bye..." Mum says, confused by my haste. I jump in my car and start the engine, but I take my time on the short drive over to Keith's house. I know his parents regularly attend church, but not every Sunday... And the presence of all of the family's cars in their driveway makes me equally relieved and nervous as I park outside their vast home and ring their doorbell. I clench my jaw as the door opens- and it's none other than Keith himself who has answered the door.

"What do you want?" Keith asks, staring at me with near-contempt.

"I want to talk, if that's okay?" I reply.

"I'm listening," Keith says in the same curt manner.

"We missed you at game night on Friday," I say. "Do you know when you'll be coming back?"

"God's sake," Keith snorts. "You know better than anyone why I won't be coming back."

"Keith, mate," I sigh. "You're not going to accomplish anything by sitting here pouting. At- at least come to my birthday party tomorrow. I know Jamie's had a costume made for you in case you want to come..."

"Yeah, no," Keith sighs. "I honestly can't think of anywhere I'd rather NOT be. A party at my ex-girlfriend’s house for the two people who stabbed me in the back?"

"Really?" I ask, anger flooding into my voice. "You want to talk about betrayal, Keith? You REALLY want to go there?"

"Jamie led me on," Keith states firmly. "Made me think that we had a future when we clearly didn't. I don't like being used as a one night stand, especially for someone like Jamie... And I'm not going to just stand by whilst you waltz off into the sunset together."

"So you're just going to isolate yourself from all your friends?" I ask.

"Some fucking friend you turned out to be," Keith spits.

"Well let's think about this for a second," I growl. "Suppose the shoe was on the other foot, and Jamie HAD chosen to be with you? And if I'd holed myself up in my bedroom, refusing to see anyone?"

"I'd have respected your decision," Keith growls back.

"Bollocks you would have!" I snort. "You'd have dragged me out of my bedroom and tried to set me up with every single girl you know. Maybe even Charlotte-" Quicker than a blur, Keith swings his right fist straight at my face. I throw up my left arm just in time to block most of the punch, but it still catches the side of my mouth, cutting my lip open.

"FUCK OFF!" Keith yells.

"You still love her, don't you?" I chuckle, taking a deep breath as I watch Keith seethe with rage. Knowing better than to provoke Keith further, I walk away as he slams the door behind me. With my adrenaline thinning in my blood, I climb back into my car and rest my head on my steering wheel, before starting my engine and driving away. I don't want to go straight home, especially not with blood leaking from my lip. When I started transitioning, my family- especially my mother- were terrified that if I became a boy, I'd spend my time getting into fights... And whilst I've gone out of my way to avoid them (especially since I started dating Jamie, who is a total pacifist), this would be the second time in less than three months I go home with a bloody lip, and on both occasions, it was the same man who caused it...

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" The young woman yells as I loudly knock on her door. "Keep your panties on... Oh, um, hi Stuart, um, when I said panties-"

"It's fine," I laugh. "Can- can I come in?"

"Of course," Charlotte says. "Jamie's not here, she's at her parents' today-"

"I know, I'm heading there myself later," I explain. "I- I just wanted-"

"Oh god," Charlotte gasps upon seeing my damaged mouth. "What happened to your lip?"

"My ex-best friend," I sigh. "Your ex-boyfriend. Went round to try to talk to him, and, well, bad idea."

"God, let me get you some hot water, get you cleaned up..." Charlotte says, waddling to the kitchen as fast as her seven-month-pregnant form would allow.

"I'LL get the water," I say. "You sit down, you don't want to overexert yourself in your condition..."

"Okay, if you're sure..." Charlotte says. Within seconds, I've filled a washing-up bowl with lukewarm water, and Charlotte is dabbing my busted lip with damp kitchen roll in an effort to stop the bleeding.

"It's really not bleeding that much," I argue. "Had practically stopped by the time I got here..."

"You still don't want to go around everywhere with blood all over your face," Charlotte says. "Unless that's some sort of macho 'male initiation' ritual I DON'T want to know about?"

"No," I sigh. "Just a macho 'male stupidity' ritual..."

"Trust me," Charlotte says, "females can be equally stupid at times. Not as often as men, obviously..." I chuckle, before Charlotte continues talking. "Why DID you go and talk to Keith, anyway?"

"Just to see if he wanted to come to the party tomorrow," I say. "I'm sorry, I know I should've asked you first as you're the host, but-"

"It's not like he hasn't been here since the break-up!" Charlotte laughs. "And besides, it's your party, you invite whoever you want! And, technically, I don't own this house any more, Joshua does, so I'm not even the host- And Jamie's organising the party..."

"Still though," I say. "Kinda glad he said no. And... Kinda disappointed."

"The other boys missing him too?" Charlotte asks.

"A little," I sigh. "I think- I think he's still hung up on Jamie, that's the thing..." Charlotte pauses briefly, before continuing her 'nursing'.

"Charlotte," I whisper. "If- if Jamie had chosen Keith..."

"She didn't," Charlotte says firmly. "That's the important thing. And you and her are SO right for each other...

"But," I sigh. "If she had... You and I- would you and I-"

"Somewhere, sometimes, maybe," Charlotte says. "I'm sure you've been told a million times that the way you were born doesn't make you any less of a man."

"Yeah, but sexually-" I argue, making Charlotte laugh.

"If you're talking about sex," Charlotte laughs, "remember that I know just how 'loud' Jamie is! Why do you think I put the nursery on the opposite corner of the house to her bedroom? And besides, you'd know better than anyone else exactly how to pleasure a woman... This is going to sound bad, I know, but... Keith... isn't actually that good in bed."

"...Seriously?" I ask.

"I know, I know," Charlotte sighs. "I only found that out by doing the dirty on him... But it's like... Everything he knew about sex he learned from porn. Never stopped to ask what I wanted out of it..."

"Now that IS a surprise," I laugh. "I thought, you know, because he's 6' 2"..."

"Size is most DEFINITELY not everything!" Charlotte laughs. "There- think you're all cleaned up now."

"Thanks," I say. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"You go," Charlotte laughs. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," I say with a grin as I leave the vast property, quickly heading to Jamie's parents' house. Thanks to Charlotte's ministrations, there's no sign of the fight left anywhere on my face, even as Jamie 'examines it up close' when she greets me with a kiss. After dinner with Jamie's parents- with whom I get on really well, to the point that I've even played a round of golf with her father- we head home, eventually heading to bed, where our fingers and mouths quickly find their way onto our most sensitive areas...

I smile happily as the warmth of the first rays of sun find their way onto my face, followed by the gentle touch of Jamie's slender fingers.

"Happy birthday," Jamie whispers, giving me a gentle kiss. "We do still, kinda have to get up today for work..."

"Yes, yes," I sigh, pulling on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and finally my thick blue dressing gown before heading downstairs, where I gasp with shock at the sight that greets me.

"Happy birthday!" My entire family yells. Even this early in the morning, everyone is here- Riley's here, having obviously spent the night with Becca, and Emma and Lee have even dropped by. Draped on the wall behind the breakfast table is a large '2' and a large '5'- and to the side of the dining room is a huge, HUGE pile of presents.

"Ah, my little boy is a quarter of a century old," dad chuckles. "Thanks for making me feel old, son..." I smile at dad's teasing, as not only is it my birthday today, but it's another significant anniversary, as I'm reminded when I head into the kitchen for a drink after opening my presents.

"Happy NINTH birthday," Becca- who ambushes me in the kitchen- says.

"Thanks," I say with a smile, before giving my baby sister a long, tight hug. "I really feels like so, so much longer... And I really couldn't have done any of this without you. Or Emma, or mum or dad... But if it wasn't for you, 'Stuart' wouldn't exist..."

"You can repay me by getting me a girl band for my birthday?" Becca asks, making me giggle.

"Oh, we'll have it done long before then," I laugh, smiling as I roll up the sleeve of my dressing gown to reveal the fine, wispy hair covering my arm. "But nine years... God."

"...And are you, still, you know, taking the 'final step'?" Becca asks with a shaky voice.

"I'm still booked in for October," I say.

"It's really not fair that it's so hard for you, and boys like you," Becca moans. "Jamie went from 'total boy' to 'total girl' in just over THREE years, from what I understand, and here you are, NINE years later..."

"Am I a man or a woman?" I ask my baby sister.

"Well, a man," Becca replies. "That's obvious, surely? But down there..."

"'Size isn't everything'," I laugh. "It’s not that I NEED this surgery... but I want it. Badly." Becca sighs and gives me a tight, sisterly hug, before leaving me to get my drink.

"Got to get dressed now," Becca says. "Don't want to be late for ballet..."

"Or university!" I shout after the young woman as she leaves. After getting dressed myself (which again involves playing with one of Jamie's bras, as she's wearing it), I head downstairs and quickly glance over my present pile. Even though my dad is now retired, my family is still very wealthy. Emma, Becca and I never went wanting on our birthdays, and today is no exception- the 'main' present being an amazing sterling silver watch, but I also have new designer jeans, sweatshirts, aftershave sets... And my mind returns to the two most significant birthdays of my life. It was on my sixteenth birthday that I finally made the decision to live 'as Stuart'. During the afternoon, after school, mum, Emma, Becca and I went for spa treatments, manicures, pedicures, make-overs... And during the night, I obliterated every trace of the femininity that had been forced upon me. I ascended the stairs at home as Claire... And descended them as Stuart.

Exactly 365 days later, on my seventeenth birthday, I woke up as Stuart, and found a pile of presents very similar to the ones I opened today. On that day, I received my very first shaving set, a set of sports books, a pair of sturdy brown boots... And a giant card that read 'to a wonderful son on his seventeenth birthday'. I received a similar card today, only the card read 'twenty-fifth' instead of 'seventeenth', but it means just as much now as it did back then. I've kept all my birthday cards from my parents since my seventeenth birthday as reminders, precious reminders that I am love for who I am- not what chemicals flow through my brain or what I have- or rather, don't have- growing out of my chest.

After spending the day in yet another meeting with Joshua, Jon, Krystie, Mikey and Jamie- during which we pick another member for Becca's band, a ginger-haired Scottish girl called Lauren- I and the woman I love head back to her house, where I change into my costume for the night. When I mentioned to Jamie that on our 'boys' nights', we spent most of our time playing videogames, she decided that videogames would be the theme for the party, so I strip off my comfortable new jeans and black sweatshirt and pull on a tight red long-sleeved t-shirt, which causes Jamie to come over and gently caress my small pectoral muscles.

"Mmm," Jamie playfully moans. "Hunky!" I smile and pause my dressing, allowing Jamie to 'fondle' me a while longer. Every time she plays with my chest is a reminder that the operation I had, the pain and scarring I had to endure, was all worth it. Even if Jamie never touches my chest again for the rest of my life... It's still worth it.

Once Jamie's released me, I pull on the rest of my costume- denim dungarees, white gloves, a huge, ostentatious fake moustache and finally, a red peaked cap with a giant 'M' in the middle of the front.

"It's a me!" I yell in a phoney Italian accent as Jamie applauds. "Stu-io!"

"SUPER Stuio!" Jamie laugh, giving me a kiss. Unlike my costume, which took me mere seconds to pull on, hers was a true feat of engineering. As I'm dressed as Mario, she's obviously dressed as princess Peach, but rather than a plain pink dress, her gown is huge, puffed out with petticoats whilst her waist is taken in by a corset that looks far too tight in which to have any fun. As Princess Peach is taller than Mario, Jamie is, of course, wearing huge platform heels underneath her dress- meaning I have to take her hand (which is covered in a bicep-length white satin glove) to help her down the stairs to where the party is already in full swing.

After a brief- but still embarrassing- moment where I and Jamie waltz around the room to one of the songs from one of the recent Super Mario games, I'm given three cheers and handed presents from all of the partygoers- again, stuff like men's deodorant and aftershave, but it doesn't matter what the presents are, merely that the people at the party thought enough of me to give me them. As I scan the room, however, I can't help but feel a little sad that one person is missing from the party- the man who would've been the 'Luigi' to my 'Mario'.

"Thank you all for this," I say, dropping my fake Italian accent as I address the crowd. "Best-a birthday-a ever-a!" As the crowd laughs, I once again take Jamie by the hand and lead her to one of the sofas dotted around the vast room, where we're quickly joined by Charlotte- whose costume choice of 'a Sim who's pregnant' isn't the most imaginative she's ever worn, but she did at least make the effort to put the floating jewel above her head.

"There's one more present," Charlotte says. "It was left on the back doorstep earlier today. Happy birthday, Stu." I rattle the small box as Jamie looks on inquisitively, but as I open it, I can't help but laugh- and almost cry- at the sight of what's inside.

"...False teeth?" Jamie asks.

"...It's from Keith," I say with a smile. A glance at the card- which simply reads 'Happy Birthday Mate, K' confirms my suspicions.

It's probably the stupidest present I've ever received on any occasion, and yet it probably means more to me than any of the others I've received today. If there's one thing my transition has taught me, it's that you can't expect to have everything. Yes, I can have a masculine chest... at the expense of life-long scars. Yes, I can have a penis... at the expense of a lengthy recovery period and the knowledge that it'll never be 100% 'functional'. Yes, I can have the woman I love... at the expense of my best friend.

And yet, every decision I've made has turned out for the best. My chest is flat, and my scars have faded. Eventually, my penis will be as much a part of my body as, say my fingers or my toes. And, if this present is any indication, maybe, just maybe, Keith and I will one day be friends again.

Treasure what you have, certainly- but don't think that means that you have to stop wanting more… Or wanting back what was once lost.

I smirk as I rush into the generously-sized dance studio that has been Krystie's second home for almost two years. Between the ages of 4 and 10, I would find myself in such a place twice a week, with my legs clad in the same pink tights and my body covered by the same style of leotard as the fifteen women currently dancing in the studio. Back then, I would have paid anything to never have to set foot in one of these places again, but today, someone else's needs come before my own.

"Oh, hi Stu!" Krystie teases. "Sorry, but today's class is GIRLS ONLY!"

"Sorry for barging in uninvited," I say, pausing to catch my breath.

"What's up?" Jamie asks, striding over to me and giving me a quick kiss.

"I'm okay," I say. "But I'm actually here for Becca... It's time." I nod at my baby sister as her jaw slowly drops open, realising the significance of what I'm saying.

"Wh- now!?" Becca asks, clearly as anxious as I am.

"Yep, now," I say bluntly. "Addie, Kayla, Lauren, Steph, take the rest of the day off, I'll let you know if you'll be needed for the rest of the week." I grimace a little as I 'dismiss' my band for the rest of the day, as we ARE attempting to record an album for public release, but what's happening today has to take priority, and my managers have factored in time for this break.

"I wish I could go with you," Jamie says, giving me another kiss before returning to her dancing. "Give my best to her, to both of them... To all THREE of them."

"Will do," I say, returning Jamie's kiss. "Love you..."

"Love you too," Jamie says as I leave the studio, Becca following immediately behind having not stopped to cover up her tights and her leotard.

"Do you, um, want to put something on-" I mumble as I get in my car.

"Just drive!" Becca commands, fastening her seatbelt. "When- when did it-"

"About an hour ago," I say. "I got here as fast as I could, mum and dad are already at the hospital."

"I almost can't believe it," Becca muses as she fishes around in her bag for something to wear over her leotard. "Today's the day I become an auntie..."

"And I become an uncle," I whisper to myself. It doesn't take long- even in the London traffic- for us to reach the hospital containing our older sister.

"We're here for Emma Milton," I say to the hotel receptionist, before grimacing and correcting myself. "Maddox, sorry, Emma Maddox... She's in labour."

"Of course," the young woman says. "It's on your right, third door on your left, you can't miss the signs." After thanking the receptionist, Becca- who had thrown a loose dress over her dancewear on the way from the car- and I head down to the labour ward where our parents are already waiting for us.

"Stuart, Becca," dad says, clearly as nervous as the two of us.

"Any news?" I ask.

"None," mum says. "Lee's in there with her, as any good husband should be." I wince a little as dad grimaces out of sight of mum- he wasn't present for Emma's birth, and whilst he was there for myself and Becca, I doubt mum's ever truly forgiven him for that.

"You two should get comfortable, we could be here a while," dad advises as Becca and I take our seats next to our parents. Dad's prediction doesn't hold true, though- less than half an hour after we arrive, Lee- Emma's husband- emerges from the delivery room with a massive smile on his face, a smile I've recently seen on the faces of many of my friends.

"Guys," Lee says breathlessly. "It is my eternal pleasure to announce the birth of Raymond John Lee Maddox, weighing 8 pounds, 3 ounces." I stand up and cheer, before approaching my brother-in-law and giving him a firm, manly handshake.

"Magnificent!" Dad beams, also giving Lee a handshake. "When can we see him?"

"He and Emma are resting," Lee says. "But they should be up for visitors in a couple of hours."

"Such a shame your parents couldn't be here to see it," mum sighs, giving Lee a long, motherly hug.

"Eh, they'll be down tomorrow," Lee shrugs. "He's not their first grandchild, he won't be their last!"

"You just concentrate on getting settled with that child before thinking about having anymore!" Mum laughs as Lee heads back to be with his new family, and as he goes, I see his familiar smile be replaced by a familiar look of terror in his eyes. Almost twelve months ago to the day, my friends Dan and Mary became parents, and when Dan returned to his family after announcing his daughter's birth, I saw in his eyes a look of sheer terror at the knowledge that he- the same guy with whom I would regularly goof off and play video games- now had a responsibility that would last for the rest of his life. At the time I had no doubts whatsoever that he was up for the challenge, and I'm more than confident that Lee will be an excellent dad, and I know with 100% certainty that Emma will be a magnificent mother.

I've never been as close with my older sister as I am with my younger sister- even though I'm much closer in age to Emma- but I've always been able to count on her for support no matter what.

After I first came out to my parents, Emma was the first one to offer help to try to 'rationalise' my decision. She didn't criticise me, she didn't question me, she simply got straight on the internet and within half an hour had given me a list of websites and phone numbers I could use to help support me through my transition- and over the last nine years I've made use of every single one of them.

The September after I came out, I went to music college whilst Emma headed off to university- Cambridge, of course- but even then every time I emailed her to tell her about my problems, or ask for help, or even just to chat, she'd reply within 24 hours and would always ask me to email her back as soon as I was able to. If she's that willing to devote time to her younger brother, then her son is undoubtedly going to be raised in one of the most loving families that has ever existed.

...Especially as the child's father will also be totally devoted to him, just as he is to his wife. When Emma started dating Lee at university, I- as a good brother- immediately became suspicious. I'd just started university myself at the time, in Nottingham, so I wasn't able to communicate with Emma as much as I had during my years at music college, but when I finally met Lee for the first time, I knew that he and Emma would be perfect together, a feeling reinforced when I attended their wedding last year.

Of course, from an early age, Emma had planned her dream wedding, and had decided immediately that I would be her maid of honour. For obvious reasons, when it came time to plan her actual wedding, I couldn't fill that role (though Becca did a more than adequate job in the role), instead sitting alongside my parents and Jamie- my date- for the duration of the ceremony.

Every time I looked at my sisters during the ceremony, however, I felt a slight pang of regret at not being up there with them. Emma had leant me so much support during my transition that I felt almost rude not repaying it, but it soon dawned on me that Emma excluding me from the bridal party was yet another form of support. In effect, she was saying 'no Stuart, you can't be part of the bridal party because you are not, and never will be a woman'. To many, that would be the ultimate insult. To me... It's the ultimate compliment.

After eating lunch with my family in the hospital cafeteria, I head back to the waiting area where another familiar face is waiting for us- the current partner of my younger sister.

"Hey babe!" Riley says, giving Becca a quick, loving kiss as I and my parents look on, trying not to make our disapproval obvious. Unlike Emma and Lee, who are perfect for each other, Becca and Riley... Really aren't. Even though they've been going out for eighteen months- and outwardly highly devoted to each other- I can't help but get the niggling feeling in the back of my mind that there's something 'off' about them. Maybe it's just my big brother sense going into overdrive, I dunno. I like Riley as a friend... Just not as my baby sister's boyfriend.

"Glad you could make it, Riley," dad says, giving the twenty year old man a firm handshake. It's notable that dad started calling Lee 'son' even before he and Emma were married, but he's yet to do the same thing for Riley...

"Lee was out here a few minutes ago," Riley says. "He says that we can go and see- well, we can go and see whenever we're ready."

"No time like the present!" Mum says, making all of us chuckle as we head along to Emma's room. As we enter the room, it's all I can do not to burst into floods of very unmanly tears as there, laid in the bed, is my older sister, and in her arms is a tiny, beautiful baby boy.

"Oh my god, Emma!" Becca wails as our sister simply giggles tiredly.

"He is so beautiful," mum says.

"Say hi to your family, Ray!" Emma giggles in her son's sleeping face. "You've got Auntie Becca, Uncle Stuart, Uncle Riley, and there's your nanna and granddad!"

"So," I say to my mum. "Are you sticking with 'nanna' or would you prefer 'grandma', or maybe 'granny'?"

"He can call me whatever he wants when he grows up," mum says, taking the baby boy from Emma and cradling him as only an experienced mother can. "So beautiful..."

"Well, I'm taking 'granddad' over 'grandpa'," dad says as mum passes the baby boy to him. All of the family gets a turn cradling the tiny boy- even Riley, as nervous as it makes him- with me taking the final 'turn'. Immediately as I hold the boy in my arms, he starts to stir, gurgling happily as I slowly rock him back and forth.

"Aw, you like your Uncle Stuart, don't you?" I whisper. "The first boy born into the family- well, ever, I suppose..."

"Doesn't mean you're not going to have to be a strong male role model for him, son," dad says, placing a supportive hand on my shoulder. "And I can't think of anyone more suited to the task. Well, other than the boy's dad, of course!"

"Here you go, 'dad'," I say, handing the baby back to Lee, who soon hands him back to Emma.

"When will you be out of hospital?" Mum asks.

"Tomorrow," Emma replies with a wide grin. "Want to get little Ray settled in at home as soon as possible, he's got plenty more family yet to meet..."

"Including his great-grandmother?" Becca asks, cooling the atmosphere in the room.

"There'll be time enough for that eventually," Emma says, diffusing the tension, which all but disappears when the baby starts crying.

"Think he's a bit intimidated by the crowd," dad laughs. "Come on, we've got the rest of our lives to fuss over him, after all!"

"I can take you home, babe," Riley says to Becca as we head back to the hospital reception.

"Um, I don't mind dropping you home," I say. "I'm heading there anyway as Jamie's in Manchester until tomorrow..." I let out a long sigh as Becca and Riley share a private giggle- and so do my parents.

"You two have fun," dad laughs as Becca and Riley walk away, hand-in-hand. "Stop being such a stereotypical 'big brother'!"

"I can't help it," I sigh. "I mean, I like the guy, but... Just not as Becca's boyfriend."

"You've had eighteen months to get used to it," mum says. "We've got used to you and Jamie... AGAIN!"

"Go on, son, get yourself home and get some rest," dad says. "We'll call you if Emma's up for visitors again."

"...Okay," I sigh, all but dragging myself out to my car and heading home. Once I'm back in the sanctity of my bedroom, I switch on my computer and get a little bit of work done mixing and compiling songs for the band's album- all five girls have amazingly good singing voices and harmonise well, so the amount of work I have do is usually kept to a minimum, but I do like having a play around with the tunes to see if I can improve them. For some songs, I've mixed over fifty different versions- most of which only ever be heard by me.

I stay by the phone for the rest of the day, hoping for a phone call from either my parents or from Jamie, but neither of them call (Jamie usually gets an early night when she's staying somewhere away from London). Ordinarily, if I was in all day and at a loose end, I'd call one of my friends to keep me company, but that's not an option either- Jon is out with his fiancée all day, planning his wedding, Dan and Paul are working all day (they're planning on opening an Angel-branded gym together, with Jon's uncle's financial backing), Mikey's visiting relatives in the Midlands, Riley's obviously 'busy' with Becca and Keith...

My parents eventually return home just after 9pm, having spent all day at the hospital with their daughter and their new grandson, and I head to bed shortly afterward with the assurance that the new family will be home tomorrow- and will want to be greeted by 'Uncle Stuart'. As I sleep, I wonder what kind of life the boy will have- and whether the stigma of having a transgendered uncle will haunt him in his school life...

My alarm wakes me at 7:45am as usual, but before I get up, I remember that today- and the rest of the week- I can sleep in as long as I want. Not that I want to, of course- today is the day my nephew sees his first home for the very first time, and I have no intention of missing that! After sending a quick 'I love you' text to Jamie (who should be on her way home right about now), I get out of bed and jump in the shower, before pulling on a comfortable, faded pair of jeans and one of my favourite t-shirts.

"Morning, Uncle Stuart!" Dad laughs as I stroll down the stairs and sit down at the breakfast table.

"Morning, granddad!" I retort, making dad chuckle happily.

"Now, you two..." Mum chastises, before a wide smile creeps across her face.

"Sorry, 'nanna'," I say, making mum laugh. "What time are Emma, Lee and the baby getting home?"

"Around lunchtime," mum says. "I said we'd all be there to greet them. ALL of us, including that girlfriend of yours!"

"She'll be home when she's home," I sigh. "You know, if Emma has a second child whilst Becca's on tour with the band..."

"That's a bridge we'll cross when we come to it," mum says firmly. "Today, we're concerned with Emma's FIRST child."

"Of course," I say. "Besides, even if she does have a second, she isn't going to be the next member of this family to go into hospital..."

"Ah, pouring all the attention on himself," dad jokes, though I can tell from mum's facial expression that she finds the whole idea of me going into hospital VERY unsettling. "I remember the last time you were in hospital- after your first year of uni, wasn't it?"

"Yep," I say. "Just after Emma graduated. Went into hospital to prevent myself from ever having to go into hospital for the reason Emma's in there now, ironically enough..."

In the summer of 2009, most of my friends made plans to go on holidays with their families or their girlfriends, or get summer jobs, or play gigs with various bands. I, on the other hand, made plans to go into hospital, and for want of a better way of putting it, get most of my reproductive organs scooped out.

The procedure my surgeon had recommended to me was called a 'Total Laparoscopic Hysterectomy'. I'd be put under a general anaesthetic and would have several small incisions made into my abdominal wall, through which my ovaries and uterus would be removed. I went under the anaesthetic in the mid-morning, and woke up in the early evening to abdominal pain like I'd never experienced before- and, more reassuringly, mum and dad smiling down on me.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, son," dad said, stressing the word 'son' as he'd done ever since my coming out over three years earlier. "The surgery was a complete success. You're one step closer to realising your dream!" I smiled as dad said this, but I could tell in his voice that there was one thing he wanted to say, but didn't- that I was also a million miles away from ever being able to provide him with grandchildren.

I remained in hospital for another 2 days and was off my feet at home for almost a month following the surgery, during which I gained almost a stone in weight as I comfort ate my way through my recovery (which didn't help my recovery, what with the irritable bowel syndrome it also brought). When I was 16, just before I started hormone replacement, I was 5' 5.5" and just a little over nine stone. Now, at the age of 25, I'm 5' 7" and ten and a half stone- but I have been a lot heavier in the past. When I met Jamie, I was a fairly hefty twelve stone- I'm forever thankful that amongst her male friends were two fitness instructors.

Of course, back when I was nineteen, I didn't think anything of my weight- and I certainly didn't think anything of never being able to bear children. Now, however, as I cradle my infant nephew in my arms, I'm beginning to realise the price I paid to fulfil my lifelong ambition of being a man. The thought of growing a new life inside me, nurturing it, loving it and being loved in return... It's undoubtedly the feminine experience that I most regret missing out on, if not the only experience. But I know that deep down inside, I'd have been a terrible mother- if only modern medicine was good enough to make it so that I had a chance to be a father...

"Aww, he really loves his Uncle Stuart!" Emma coos as I gently rock the tiny baby back and forth.

"He is such a cute little thing," I laugh. "Fifteen years from now, of course, he'll probably be surrounded by girlfriends..."

"Nope," Emma laughs as she takes the baby from my arms. "No girl will ever be good enough for this one!"

"Come on Stu," Lee laughs as Emma starts to unbutton her shirt to feed the baby. "I'll show you the nursery..."

"I've already seen it once... But okay," I say, choosing to avoid the sight of my sister's nipple.

"Can I see?" Becca asks, also averting her gaze from Emma feeding her son.

"Sure," Lee shrugs, leading us both up to the light blue room- and to Lee's credit, it really is everything a little boy could want in a bedroom. The floor is covered in big, plush toys- bears, tigers, giraffes- the walls are covered in images of racing cars and trains, and dangling from the ceiling is a huge, detailed model of the solar system, right down to tiny moons orbiting all of the planets.

Needless to say, I'd have given anything to have grown up in a room like this. The earliest bedroom I can remember is from when I was five, and even back then, I disliked my room. I had no cars or trains on my walls, or stuffed animals on the floor- my bedroom was a shrine to the femininity I would so desperately abandon when I was older. My pink walls were covered in images of flowers, horses, ballerinas, my toy box was filled with dolls and dressing-up costumes, my mobile contained angels and dancers, not planets...

"This kid is going to have an amazing childhood with you and Emma as his parents," I say to the proud father, who playfully pats me on the shoulder.

"Cheers, mate!" Lee laughs. "Can't wait to see Ray's reaction when he wakes up in it for the first time..."

"Lee!" Emma yells from downstairs, making my brother-in-law laugh and roll his eyes.

"Father's work is never done," Lee laughs. "You two feel free to have a nosy around, I'll be right back."

"This is such a cool room," Becca sighs as she sits down cross-legged on the floor. "Bet you'd have given anything for a room like this when you were a kid..."

"Literally anything," I sigh as I sit down next to my baby sister. "But I've got the room I want now, that's the important thing. Gonna be a hell of a task trying to recreate it when I move out..."

"Oh god," Becca sighs. "PLEASE tell me you're not planning on moving in with Jamie..."

"No, not yet," I say. "But if and when I do, I hope I'd get a better reaction than 'oh god'! What exactly do you have against her, anyway?"

"Umm, let's see," Becca says sarcastically. "The fact that she stomped all over your feelings, lied to your face and treated you like shit, only for you to go crawling back to her like the doormat you are?"

"Okay, first," I say, trying to control my boiling temper. "She did not 'stomp all over my feelings'. She made a mistake. God knows it was a big one, but... We're all entitled to make mistakes. Second, she only lied by omission, she owned up the second she was confronted. Third, she didn't treat me like shit. Fourth, and most importantly of all... I love her. We understand each other like no one else can, we... We complete each other."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't be surprised if someone else is 'completing' her in Manchester as we speak," Becca snorts.

"Just believe what you want," I say. "I love her, and I trust her, and..."

"...And?" Becca asks.

"...Never mind," I sigh. "When's Riley getting here?"

"Next hour," Becca says, clearly uncomfortable that I've changed the subject.

"I'd have thought that would make you smile," I tease my sister.

"Well of course it does," Becca sighs. "I LOVE him... Stu, can I tell you something?"

"Of course," I say.

"I love Riley," Becca whispers. "But- but... I'm not sure that I'm IN love with him..."

"How do you mean?" I ask, surprised by my sister's revelation.

"I- I only got with him because he was the brother of a celebrity," Becca sighs. "Thought if I hung around with him, it'd help me get famous..."

"...But now?" I ask. "I mean, you're probably going to be more famous than Riley's sister soon enough, right?"

"Now..." Becca sighs. "I really, really do love him. And I trust him... And I can see myself marrying him some day."

"Whoa, whoa, back up, please!" I laugh.

"That's what you were going to say, isn't it?" Becca asks. "You love Jamie, you trust Jamie, and... You want to marry her, right?"

"...Yeah," I sigh. "I mean, I think I do... Everyone's always telling me how right we are for each other. I think you're the only person who doesn't, heh." Becca opens her mouth to reply, but is interrupted by a new text message alert from my phone.

"Speak of the devil?" Becca asks, making me roll my eyes.

"Yes, it's from Jamie," I say, making Becca snort with laughter. "She'll be here in a few minutes. So start behaving!"

"Yes, DAD," Becca giggles as we head back downstairs. Sure enough, my girlfriend arrives less than a quarter of an hour later, and we share a quick but tender kiss before Jamie is led to the tiny baby who may one day become her nephew.

"Aww, he's such a little cutie!" Jamie squeaks as the cuddles the infant.

"Too right, AUNTIE Jamie!" Becca giggles.

"Why thank you, AUNTIE Becca!" Jamie giggles back, making me sigh at how one person can be so catty behind someone else's back but be all smiles to their face- and how glad I am to have left that particular element of femininity in the past. We stay with the new family for another couple of hours before I get back in my car with the woman I love and drive back to her house (well, her best friend Charlotte's house), Jamie smiling happily every inch of the way.

"Your nephew is so adorable," Jamie giggles as she adjusts her seatbelt. "Just like his uncle!"

"Thanks!" I laugh. "I really missed you while you were away..."

"I was barely gone 36 hours," Jamie says with a smile. "...But I missed you too. What- what are you thinking about right now?"

"...How I'm never going to have any kids of my own," I sigh, making Jamie sigh sadly as well.

"You're not alone in that boat," Jamie mumbles. "But as long as I have you, as long as I have my friends... I don't need children to complete my life." I smile as I drive us back to Jamie's home, where we spend the rest of the evening watching television before heading to bed just after 10pm. Even though it's late, it's still warm outside- and warm inside after we expend what energy we have left making love with each other before falling asleep in each other's arms.

When I wake up the following morning, I find to my surprise that Jamie is already awake and nowhere to be seen- though a quick glance out of her bedroom window confirms my suspicions that she's gone for a dip in Charlotte's swimming pool, wearing her tiny blue bikini that makes me stare enthralled at her unbelievably beautiful body. It's virtually impossible to believe that her thin, 5' 5" frame ever belonged to a man, especially as she steps out of the pool and the glistening water clings to her perfect curves, making me almost drool with lust. Jamie giggles as she spots me staring at her whilst drying herself with a towel, before untying her bikini top, letting it fall to the floor, and stretching her topless body.

It takes me less than 30 seconds to change into my own swim trunks and race down to the pool, where I give the still-topless Jamie a long, tender kiss.

"Good god, you are BEAUTIFUL," I whisper to my girlfriend, who giggles appreciatively.

"Look who's talking, you hunky slab of beef!" Jamie says, giving me another kiss as she gently strokes my small pectoral muscles.

"Do you have anything planned for today?" I ask Jamie, who smiles and wraps her arms around my neck.

"Nope," Jamie says. "I'm all yours!" I kiss Jamie again, shivering with desire as she presses her hardening nipples into my chest, before we're interrupted by the familiar sound of a crying infant coming from the house.

"Kind kills the mood, doesn't it?" I ask.

"A little," Jamie shrugs, bending down to retrieve her bikini top, which I gently tie to her torso (taking the opportunity to also cop one last feel of her breasts, of course).

"Hey Charlie!" Jamie squeaks as we head into the kitchen to find Charlotte feeding- or rather, trying to feed- her infant son.

"Hey you two," Charlotte says with a smile. "Sorry about this one, he's been fussy all night..."

"When are you going to let me hire a nanny?" Jamie asks, making Charlotte roll her eyes.

"When hell freezes over," the young mother says, making me smile as I watch the two similar-looking women argue over the same topic for nearly the hundredth time. However, every second I spend in the presence of the baby- despite him being my godson- reminds me of everything I've lost. Not just my uterus, but my former best friend as well- despite the fact that they're not together anymore, Keith is still the father to Charlotte baby, and bears his first name as well. As much as I love the tiny baby boy... It still sometimes hurts to be around him.

I spend the rest of the morning lazing on one a sun lounger besides Charlotte's pool, watching as Jamie tops up her tan in between dips in the swimming pool. Thanks to our work commitments- and Charlotte's new baby- any chance we've had of getting away on holiday this year have all but vanished, so any chance we have to relax like we're doing is grabbed with both hands. When my phone rings at around noon, however, I know that I won't get much relaxation for the rest of the day.

"Who is it?" Jamie asks from the pool.

"Emma" I reply, before answering the phone. "What's up, mum?"

"Just wanted to know if you'd be coming round today," my sister replies, the sound of her own gurgling infant in the background almost harmonising with the sound of Charlotte's crying son. "Because, umm, we may- we may be going to grandma's tomorrow..."

"Ah shit," I sigh, making my sister snort with laughter. "Umm, we're not doing anything, so we can drop round, I guess. See you in an hour?"

"Sounds good," Emma says before hanging up the phone.

"What's up?" Jamie asks as she gets out of pool. "Is- is the baby-"

"I like to think I'd have said a bit more than 'oh shit' if the baby was sick," I say. "No... Emma's taking the kid to see our grandmother tomorrow."

"Oh, the um, the bible basher?" Jamie asks, sighing as I nod. "You don't have to go as well, surely?"

"If I'm ever going to mend that bridge, it's now, when she's got a great-grandchild to distract her," I sigh as Jamie gives me a tender hug.

After coming out to my parents and my sisters nine years ago, I began to live the life I'd always wanted- as a man- but they weren't the only family I had to 'unveil' myself to. Whilst both my father's parents and my mother's father died before I was eight, my mother's mother was still alive... And was not happy.

"What do you mean, 'you're a boy'?" Grandma spat as I stood in front of her for the first ever time with my hair clipped short and my breasts bandaged down.

"I mean, I'm now going to be living my life as a boy," I stammered as the fierce woman stared at me with a look of utter contempt. "If- if that's okay..."

"No it is most certainly NOT okay!" Grandma snapped. "God made you a girl, and that's what you'll be!"

"Claire- Stuart, sorry, has made this decision of HIS own free will," mum said, placing her hands on my shoulders in a display of support. "HE has explained that he is unable to live life as a girl anymore, and would be happier as a boy."

"I don't care what she thinks!" Grandma snorted, emotionally tearing my insides to shreds. "No grandchild of mine will live their life in such a sickening manner!"

"We have seen more than one psychiatrist about this," mum said, her anger toward her own mother growing with every second.

"And does a psychiatrist know better than God?" Grandma asked, the indignation dripping from her voice.

"Well, umm," mum stammered.

"I can't live life as a girl any more, I just can't," I pleaded. "It- it felt like I was going to die..."

"Well then maybe you should have!" Grandma spat, bringing tears to my eyes.

"How dare you speak to my son like that!" Mum yelled, stunning her mother into silence.

"How dare you corrupt HER into this- this abomination!" Grandma spat back. "I did not raise you to allow THINGS like this to happen under your roof!"

"Nor did you raise me to hate my children simply for being who they are," mum retorted. The whole argument went on for another fifteen minutes, during which I almost literally prayed- as ironic as that would have been- for the ground to swallow me whole. Every time mum asked for acceptance and love for my new life, all we got in return was a lecture on how 'God is ashamed' of our choices, how we're defying his teachings... Mum and I eventually ended up storming out, leaving me in flood of tears all the way home- tears that made me feel even more ashamed about who I was.

To make matters worse, after I'd retreated to my bedroom to try to calm my nerves down with a marathon session of Guitar Hero- my then-favourite videogame- I was interrupted by a knock at the door from Becca.

"What's up?" I asked the nearly-eleven year old girl.

"Umm, Stuart..." Becca said nervously whilst playing with her hair. "Nanna just called and asked to speak to me... She asked me to pass on a message to you..." I let out a long, exasperated sigh, before sitting down next to Becca on my bed and placing a supportive arm around the then-small girl's shoulders.

"Whatever it is you have to say," I say calmly, "just say it. I promise I won't get angry at you, but I will want you to also say it to mum- and I promise SHE won't get angry at you either."

"Nanna..." Becca whispered. "She- she said you were an abnor- an abob-"

"An 'abomination'?" I asked Becca, who nodded, clearly understanding the meaning of the word.

"Why would she say something like that?" Becca asked.

"Because she's angry," I sighed. "Angry at me for choosing to live like this." Becca nodded as I tried to explain grandma's point of view, but it was clear that as much as she understood the words our grandmother said, she would never understand exactly why she said them.

"That's- that's just revolting," Jamie spits as I drive the two of us to Emma's house. "Using a ten year old girl as a weapon against you? That- that's- ugh!"

"It wasn't long before Becca was old enough to understand exactly what grandma was doing," I sigh. "So in her determination to drive away one grandchild, she ended up losing two... She only barely speaks to mum any more, only started talking to Emma again after she got pregnant..."

"This is why I steer clear of all religion," Jamie snorts.

"Oh, I don't blame religion," I say. "I mean, I've got no special love for it, but grandma's a piss-poor Christian, always has been. Never donates to charity, thinks poor people are all scroungers- even those who work full-time- HATES immigrants... She's probably have about a dozen strokes if she found out that Becca's best friend was originally from Nigeria, heh."

"So, um," Jamie stammers. "What you're saying is, she only uses Christianity as a way to 'justify' her bigotry?"

"That's as accurate a way of putting it as I've ever heard," I sigh. "Sees 'stoning LGBT people to death' as a more important part of it then 'love thy neighbour'."

"Know what? Fuck it, I'll go with you tomorrow," Jamie announces. "Reckon you could use the support..."

"I'd- I'd really appreciate that," I say, smiling as we drive to our encounter with my nephew, before returning to my home just after 5pm, where I break the news about tomorrow's 'trip' to Becca and my parents- who predictably don't take the news well. Becca in particular is especially unhappy about the impending encounter- and isn't keeping quiet about it.

"Ugh," my younger sister spits. "I mean yes, I know I'm supposed to love my grandmother, but- but still- ugh!"

"You never know," I say. "Becoming a great-grandmother might have mellowed her out a little..."

"Do you really, really believe that?" Becca asks, snorting as I remain silent. "No, me neither."

"I don't want to think the worst of her without giving her a chance," I sigh. "She IS our only living grandparent..."

"...Fine," Becca sighs. "I'll give her a chance..." Becca returns to her phone, no doubt checking for messages from her boyfriend, and once again I'm left to muse on how much she's changed over the last ten years, from the confused pre-teen girl upset at her grandmother to a defiant, headstrong twenty year old woman who holds her in utter contempt. Most of the time, I feel that Becca's change is for the better- but I'm not sure that this is one of those occasions.

Despite Jamie's comforting presence in my bed, I still get very little sleep, and as I get dressed the following day- wearing a very smart long-sleeved shirt and a tie- Jamie has to place a calming hand on my hands to stop them from shaking.

"God," Jamie whispers as she pulls on her own smart dress, stiletto-heeled shoes and expensive earrings. "This has really got you rattled, I can't remember the last time I saw you like this..."

"I- I just want this to go well," I sigh. "It's been nine years... It'd be nice to have a grandma again. Don't want the next time I see her after today to be at her funeral... Sorry."

"It's okay," Jamie says as she remembers her own recently-deceased grandmother. "This is important to you, which means it's important to me."

"Thanks," I say with a genuine smile. "I love you so much..."

"I love you too," Jamie whispers, before adjusting the waistband of her underwear. "Ugh, can't believe I decided to wear tights on a day this warm..."

"Then take them off," I say as I lace up my smart black shoes.

"This dress doesn't work well with bare legs," Jamie explains. "And these shoes CERTAINLY don't, unless you fancy carrying me everywhere today..."

"I can think of worse things," I say, making my girlfriend giggle as she gives her make-up one final check. "Though I need to remind you that you chose to be a woman- that means that you don't get to complain about the underwear!"

"I chose to be a woman," Jamie retorts. "That means that I can complain about anything I want! Unless, of course, you'd rather I picked a different dress..."

"No, no, no, what you're wearing is perfect," I say, making Jamie giggle as I take her immaculately manicured hand in mine and lead her downstairs. As much as I love Jamie, she takes the 'nothing to wear' stereotype to new extremes, especially as she has two full wardrobes at her home, another one at her parents' home and another one at my home...

"Ah, finally," dad says as Jamie and I walk down the stairs hand-in-hand.

"Sorry," Jamie says, eliciting giggles from my parents, and more surprisingly, from Becca.

"Don't worry, he said the same thing to me," Becca laughs as we head out to our cars. "About 30 seconds before you came down the stairs..."

"So you actually rushed to get dressed today?" I ask my sister, who snorts indignantly.

"Oh- ugh, BOY!" Becca yells.

"BOY!" Jamie yells at the same time as Becca, making the two women descend into a giggling fit. Even though the giggles are at my expense, I can't dislike anything that brings Jamie and Becca closer together. The giggles quickly stop, however, as we approach the house of our grandmother- a place where I haven't set foot in almost a decade but still fills me with dread. Fortunately, Emma, Lee and the baby have arrived ahead of time, meaning that none of us have to sit around waiting.

"Hey," my older sister says to me with a nervous smile on her face. "You- you ready for this?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," I sigh. I gulp nervously as Emma rings the doorbell, but I make an effort to rationalise the situation in my mind. When I came out to grandma, she was 69- so now she'll be almost eighty, almost certainly frailer... It may well be that even if we do repair our relationship, we won't have long to enjoy it...

"Is that my great-grandson I hear at the door?" Grandma says in a happy tone, making me breathe a sigh of relief, and the smile on her face when she opens the door and sees the tiny infant is one of pure joy.

"Hi grandma," Emma giggles as Ray gurgles in her arms. "Meet Raymond John Lee Maddox!"

"What a wonderful baby boy!" Grandma says, briefly cradling the child in her arms before handing him back to Emma. "Come on in, I've got-" I wince as grandma's eyes meet with mine and her smile instantly vanishes.

"What is SHE doing here?" Grandma asks with an angry growl. My heart races and my palms start to sweat as I open my mouth to respond, but much to my surprise, I'm interrupted before I can speak by a voice immediately to my right.

"I'm here because I'm the baby's aunt," Becca says with a smile. "AND godmother!"

"Not you," grandma spits, pointing her bony finger straight in my face. "I mean her next to you!" Even though Becca is stood between our father and myself, her smile doesn't waver.

"Oh her?" Becca asks. "She's Stuart's girlfriend."

"Her name is not Stuart!" Grandma yells, tearing open an old wound inside of me, a wound I'd hoped had been closed nine years ago.

"No, it's Jamie," Becca continues, her fake innocence clearly aggravating our grandmother. "Well, technically it's Jamie-Lee, but we all call her Jamie. This MAN's name is Stuart." Becca takes my hand in hers and I slowly start to feel my strength returning to me.

"That is not a man!" Grandma spits.

"In the eyes of the law, I am," I say, my voice wavering.

"But in the eyes of the lord, you're not!" Grandma snaps.

"Well then maybe he needs glasses!" I retort, stunning the old woman into silence as the baby starts to loudly cry.

"Look what you did!" Grandma says, reaching for the infant, only for Emma to pull him away.

"I think we should go," Emma says, trying not to wither under the old woman's gaze. "Ray's obviously unsettled..."

"He's unsettled because you brought that THING here!" Grandma spits, causing something inside my mind to snap.

"Let me," I say, walking up to Emma and gently taking the baby from her. I smile as little Ray quickly calms down once I'm gently rocking him back and forth. "Yes, you like your Uncle Stuart, don't you?"

"You are going to be such a good godfather to him!" Becca says, making me cringe as grandma's tirade begins anew.

"What do you know about god!?" Grandma snorts. "Going around like that, you're a disgrace to him!"

"I know about unconditional love," I retort. "I know about forgiveness, about tolerance, about understanding... I think a great man once said: 'Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love each other'."

"How dare you quote scripture at me!" Grandma snarls. "Here I was thinking you'd have come to your senses over the last nine years, clearly I was wrong!"

"And clearly I was wrong to think that you'd have come to your senses," mum says, taking the baby into her arms and staring defiantly into the old woman's eyes. "From now on, I am going to devote my life to being the type of grandmother you weren't! Come on everyone, we're leaving." Grandma snarls again, giving one final disapproving look at me before slamming the door in my face. The eight of us slowly walk back to our cars, where mum immediately breaks down in tears.

"Mum," I whisper, gingerly approaching the crying woman. "I- I'm sorry, I-"

"No, you don't have anything to be sorry for," mum says, giving me a quick yet very much needed hug. "You said 'unconditional love'... Well I unconditionally love you. And Emma, and Becca, and Lee, and Jamie, and Riley, and little Ray."

"I- I, um, love you too," I whisper, before getting back in my car and resting my head on the steering wheel. As much as mum may try to convince me that the argument wasn't my fault, I'll never be able to convince myself that it wasn't. No matter how much I may try to live my life the way I need to, no matter how much I flood my body with testosterone and have the surgeries, I'll always be hurting someone, somewhere, simply by being who I am. And even though everyone will always tell me that it's their problem, not mine... It will always hurt.

"Don't let her get to you," Jamie says softly, gently rubbing my back. "You can't help the way you need to be. Nobody in our position can."

"Yeah," Becca says, sitting down on the back seat of my car. "You're an amazing, kind, sensitive human being. She isn't."

"You saw how upset mum was, though," I sigh. "And how upset Emma was... And it's all my fault."

"It is NOT your fault!" Becca angrily retorts.

"You said nothing to upset your mother or your sister," Jamie insists. "They've loved you for who you are for the last nine years."

"And will love you for who you are for the rest of your life," Becca says. "That little boy will grow up thinking that you're the coolest uncle ever. And when he's old enough to understand, he'll be told the truth about your past, and he'll accept you and love you for who you are as well. As will any other children that Emma has, or any children that I have, for that matter!"

"Thank you, thank you both," I sigh, before starting the engine and driving home. "Dunno where I'd be without you two..."

"Well don't waste any thought on that, because we're never going away," Jamie says with a happy smile. "Right, Becca?"

"Damn right!" Becca cheers, bringing a solitary tear to my eye.

"Thank you both again," I laugh. "Need me to drop you anywhere? I'm just gonna head home, might catch up on a little work..."

"Nope," Jamie says. "I'm all yours for the rest of the day!"

"So am I," Becca says. Ordinarily, I'd roll my eyes at Becca thinking she needs to 'compete' with Jamie, but Becca's tone isn't one of 'hands off', it's more 'whatever Stuart needs, I'll make sure he gets it'.

"Don't bother with work when you get home," Becca says. "Just put your feet up, we'll put Netflix on and forget all about that nasty old woman."

"Even though my work is solely centred on making you a rich and famous singer?" I ask Becca, who sighs and rolls her eyes.

"This is probably the only time you'll ever get this 'opportunity'," Jamie laughs. "Don't waste it!"

"Yeah," Becca laughs. "Back to work with you tomorrow!" I smile a genuine smile as Jamie and Becca continue to cheer me up, but what's making me smile the most is that the two women are finally, finally starting to get along. As promised, when we arrive home, I have a Coke shoved in one hand and the Sky+ remote in the other, and the three of us while away the afternoon and evening catching up on the latest episodes of Orange is the New Black. Becca can do an almost perfect impersonation of Red, which causes even mum and dad to break out in fits of giggles after they join us in the living room.

Jamie ultimately leaves just after 9pm (returning home to help Charlotte with her baby), and more than ever I find myself wanting to simply hold her and never let her go.

"This morning was horrific," I whisper to Jamie as I kiss her goodnight. "But this afternoon... Was one of the best afternoons I've ever had. I love you, Jamie."

"I love you, Stuart," Jamie whispers, giving me a quick kiss before getting in her waiting taxi. I stand at my door and watch as the taxi recedes from view, only heading back inside once I can no longer see any trace of it.

"I think I'm beginning to see it," Becca says, giving me a gentle hug as I lock the front door for the night.

"See what?" I ask.

"What everyone means when they say how good for each other you and Jamie are," Becca says. "She is absolutely devoted to you, I can see it in her eyes... I mean yes, she's still a bitch for what she did last year, but I really, truly believe that she'll never do it again."

"I believe that too," I say. "100%, whole-heartedly."

"If you did move in with, or even marry Jamie," Becca whispers, "I- I think you'd be really happy together."

"Thanks, Becca," I say, before the two of us head back into the living room in silence.

"Pity Jamie couldn't have stayed," dad says. "Especially after the day you had, Stu. I hope she realises that she's as much a part of this family as any of us..."

"Even more so than certain elderly women we won't mention," mum says, making my heart beat faster and faster. By the time I climb into bed, my mind is a blur from the day's events. It was always overly optimistic to assume that grandma would simply be able to forgive me, but in losing her from my family, the rest of my family- including Jamie- have drawn closer than ever, and this cloud's silver lining makes it almost worth enduring the 'cloud' in the first place. Almost.

As Becca had 'ordered' on the drive home from grandma, I wake up early on Friday morning and head into my usual workplace, the custom-built recording studio on the bottom floor of Heavenly Talent (Jamie & Becca's agency)'s offices. Whilst my qualification may be more geared toward music performance than production, I still know more than enough about producing and directing music to put out tunes of a professional quality, and right now, I'm charged with the task of turning Becca and her friends' raw recordings into songs that will (hopefully) fill the iPods of every teenaged girl in the UK. Even though it's not the type of music I personally would listen to, it still helps to take my mind off things.

...Though in this case, it may have taken my mind off of things a bit too much as I find myself being startled when Becca taps me on my shoulder, giggling as I take off my noise-cancelling headphones.

"My phone is right there in front of me," I moan as my heart rate returns to normal. "You couldn't have texted me to let me know you were on your way?"

"This can't be said over text," Becca says, her face suddenly sobering up. "Stu- I- I'm pregnant." My fingers start to go numb and my stomach sinks as Becca looks at me with sombre eyes, before suddenly bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Oh my god, your face when I said that!" Becca squeaks as I roll my eyes. "Oh, you are SO easy... I blame the testosterone!"

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," I retort.

"I'll pass, thanks," Becca laughs. "I remember the acne you got during your second year in college... THAT I can live without!"

"You were thirteen that year," I remind my little sister. "You didn't exactly get away scot free."

"Lucky for me I now have a dermatologist!" Becca boasts, taking a seat next to me. "Which song you working on?"

"Uhh, Addie's solo," I reply. "Yes, I'm still working on the ones where you take the lead..."

"Good," Becca says. "Don't need Braveheart or the munchkin showing me up, especially not on our debut album..." I roll my eyes at Becca's derogatory nicknames for two of her band-mates, but before I can retort, my eyes are drawn to the beautiful blonde woman who's just strolled through my door.

"Hey," Jamie says with a smile as I stand up and give her a kiss. "Stu, I have some news for you. I- I'm pregnant." I blink twice at Jamie's 'confession', before sighing loudly.

"Give up," I say to my lover, who simply rolls her eyes and giggles.

"I told you I should've gone first!" Jamie says to Becca, who simply shrugs her shoulders.

"You don't have the- you know, 'stuff' to be pregnant..." Becca retorts. "Not your fault, obviously..."

"We're here to take you to lunch," Jamie says, grabbing my hand in hers as Becca grabs my other hand.

"I thought you were busy," I say to Jamie, before turning my attention to my sister. "And I thought you had plans with Riley?"

"I do," Becca says. "I'm meeting him AFTER lunch."

"WE'RE meeting him," Jamie clarifies. "It is his sister's birthday tomorrow, we- well, the three of us and Mikey- are the ones who have to take charge of her party."

"But first- lunch!" Becca giggles. I don't spend long eating, but I treasure every second of the lunch, even after Riley arrives and my little sister starts pawing away at him. As much as it may make me bristle, if Becca were to marry Riley, I would be genuinely happy for the two of them. Whilst Becca claims that she's not 'in love' with Riley, I can tell by the sparkle in her eyes every time she sees him that what she says isn't fully true.

I, on the other hand, am utterly in love with Jamie, and the past few days have just proven that more and more. The way she's been accepted by my family mirrors the way her parents have all but accepted me as their son- Jamie's father and I have even played golf together more than once- and I realise now more than ever that I truly do want to spend the rest of my life with Jamie... And I want that to be official.

The following day, all of our 'gang' celebrates Krystie's 23rd birthday with a fancy masquerade ball. I wear a simple but smart tuxedo with a Batman-inspired mask, but Jamie's costume is simply incredible- a long, red flamenco-style dress with bicep-length gloves, a torturously tight corset and a flamboyant, wide mask with glitter and sequins. Even with half of her face obscured, she is still the most beautiful woman I've ever known, and it pains me when I tear myself away from her just after 11pm to head home, but I know it's something I need to do sooner rather than later. Much to my relief, when I arrive home, the kitchen light is on, and I enter it to find dad sitting at the kitchen table in his dressing gown.

"Evening, Bruce," dad jokes, chuckling as I remove my mask. "Surprised you're back this early, don't these parties usually go on until at least 1am?"

"Normally," I say. "I kinda made my excuses, wanted to come home... Wanted to talk to you, actually."

"Really?" Dad asks, confused by the information. "Why would you want to talk to me especially?"

"It- it's about Jamie," I say.

"Now that girl is really growing on me," dad says. "I will admit, when you two got back together, I had my doubts, but she's really put the smile back on your face. Certainly more than- what was her name, Krystie? The one whose birthday I think you're celebrating today..."

"Yeah, that's her," I say. "She was alright, in fairness..."

"You two never really had the spark that you and Jamie do," dad says. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about, though?"

"When- when I started my transition," I say. "You told me about grandma's ring." I cringe as dad sits back in his chair, stunned by what I just said.

"I told you it was yours whenever you needed it," dad says. "Are- are you sure? Are you absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure?"

"The last week's confirmed it for me beyond any doubt," I say. "Jamie IS the woman I want to marry."

"You're still only young," dad argues. "You've only been going out for a few months..."

"Almost a year and a half since we started going out," I retort. "And I'm 25, I'm not exactly a kid. Jamie's almost 24... Mum was younger when you married her."

"Well- okay, I guess," dad says, leading me out of the kitchen and to the secret floor safe in our garage. I watch quietly as dad crouches down into the safe and pulls out a tiny box, inside which is a piece of jewellery I've known about my whole life- a small gold ring with a generous-sized diamond set into the top.

"Your grandmother's engagement ring," dad says. "And unlike your other grandmother, I'm sure my mum would be happy to see that you've found a person- and a way of life- that makes you truly happy." I take a deep breath to calm my nerves as dad closes the ring box and gently places it in my hands.

"How- how old is this, again?"

"Seventy years," dad says with pride. "My dad proposed to my mum the day after VE day. They were both 25 then, too. They married the following March. I bet they'd be chuffed to know that they were now great-grandparents."

"Thanks, dad," I say, pocketing the ring before giving dad a quick, manly hug. After I climb into bed, I examine the ring one more time before switching off my light and getting to sleep. I won't propose to Jamie immediately- she deserves a perfect moment, a moment surrounded by all of her family and friends so that she can enjoy all the love that will inevitably come her way. Her birthday in September should be an ideal opportunity for that.

Even though I am now a man, when I was younger I would occasionally join in my sisters' (and what few female friends I had) obsessions over the perfect wedding when we were older. It was all worked out- I'd be Emma's maid of honour, Becca would be mine and Emma would be Becca's. As brides, we'd all wear white, bejewelled gowns with wide skirts and long trains. Our bouquets would be pink roses, and our bridesmaids would all wear lilac.

As time wore on, though, this fantasy began to crack, shattering entirely when I started puberty and began to realise just who- and more importantly what- I really was. As a man, I didn't obsess over my fantasy wedding at all, instead talking about cars, football, beer... All the things men SHOULD talk about. Even last year, as Dan was about to get married, talk of the actual wedding didn't take precedence over our usual topics of conversation. Now, though, I find myself obsessing over the details of the upcoming day, even though Jamie hasn't said 'yes' yet... But I'm confident that she will.

Because a wedding- at least, MY wedding- shouldn't be about the what, the where or the when, it should be about the 'who'... And that's a question I know the answer to with 100% certainty. My only fantasy is about the far future, Jamie and I in our fifties, celebrating our silver wedding anniversary surrounded by our families, our friends... Maybe even a couple of adopted children. Jamie IS my family. She's my soul mate...

"Jamie-Lee Burke," I whisper in the dark silence of my room. "I love you more than life itself. Will you marry me?"

"Aah..." I moan, hissing with pain as sensation returns to my body- the primary sensation being pain. Pain in my mouth, under my arm, my head, my stomach... But the worst pain is in my groin.

"Stuart?" A familiar female voice calls. "Stuart? Can you hear me?"

"...Mum?" I ask, opening my eyes and staring into the face of the woman who gave birth to me twenty-five and a half years ago.

"Welcome back, son," mum says.

"Did- did-" I hoarsely whisper.

"Shh," mum urges. "Try not to talk too much. But yes, yes, the surgery was a success." I breathe a sigh of relief as I lay my head back on my pillow and try to clear my head. Sure, my groin is buried under a mountain of pain right now, but underneath all the pain and discomfort is that which I've waited nearly a decade for- my penis.

My wang. My knob. My dick. My ding-a-ling. My chap. My lad. My thingy. My cock. I am now an anatomically correct- well mostly anatomically correct- man. I'm far from 'done'- my urethra isn't connected yet (I'll have to have another operation about six months from now to sort that out), and if I want to be able to achieve an erection, I'll need a further operation after that to implant a- well, an implant, either a flexible rod or a pump, to help me out there. But all that can wait for later. As of right now, I am at the beginning of the end of my journey. I have a six-inch tube of flesh hanging down between my legs- or at least, it would be if I wasn't laid in a hospital bed with my feet in the air- and as far as I'm concerned, my life is complete.

...Especially as my surgery, as big a deal as it is, isn't the most exciting thing to have happened to me over the past seven days. Last week, I got a call explaining that due to a cancellation, my SRS could be brought forward to Monday just gone, September 21st. I accepted without hesitation, though it was only as I put the phone down that I stopped to consider the effect that this would have on the people I loved- more specifically, the woman I loved.

Two days before my surgery- on September 19th- was Jamie's 24th birthday. Last year, even though I didn't know it at the time, Jamie's birthday proved to be part of the crappiest week of my life after she fell into bed with my (now former) best friend. This year, it was the turn of Jamie and her friends to bear the brunt of the bad luck. Her friend Mary's aunt suddenly died, her friend (and my ex) Krystie ended up on hospital, Charlotte's son (and our godson) fell ill for most of the week with an infection... And then I go and thoughtlessly put myself in hospital as well. Even though most of her friends were missing, I and Jamie's parents were determined to give her the best birthday she could remember... And there was only one way I knew to do that.

"Okay," Jamie whispered to me after blowing out the candles on her birthday cake. "Maybe this has been one of my best birthdays!"

"Glad to hear it," I said with a smile, before taking a deep breath. All throughout Jamie's party, there was only one thing I wanted to ask her, something I'd wanted to ask her for a very long time. Two later I was going to literally 'grow a pair'- sort of- and this was the perfect opportunity to figuratively grow a pair.

"Stu?" Jamie asked as I gently clasped my hands around hers.

"Jamie," I shakily said, reciting the speech I'd said over a hundred times in my head. "Ever since you came into my life two years ago, every day has been better than the last. I look forward to waking up with you each morning as much as I look forward to going to be with you every night." I grimace as I hear a low snigger from one of my male friends in the crowd- that part of the speech wasn't quite as romantic as I'd hoped...

"Stu," Jamie whispers in a low, stunned voice- clearly she knows what's coming. I pause briefly, giving Jamie the opportunity to 'put me out of my misery' now, but when she remains silent, I take it as my cue to continue, my confidence growing with every word.

"I don't want this to ever end," I say as very unmanly tears form in the corners of my eyes. "You are my best friend, you're my lover, and you're my soul mate. I've never been more convinced that this is truly the case. Jamie-Lee Burke-"

"Oh my god!" Jamie gasps as I slowly drop to one knee and pull out the ring box that's been in my pocket ever since dad gave it to me so many months ago.

"-Will you marry me?" I ask, my heart fluttering as time seems to stop, the crowd looking on with the mouths agape.

"Oh my god!" Jamie wails, tears freely flowing from her beautiful turquoise eyes. "Yes! Yes I will marry you!" Tears trickle down my cheeks as I let out a sharp, happy laugh, before I stand up and give Jamie a long, tender kiss. The entire crowd cheers as Jamie holds up her left hand for me to slide the ring onto- the same ring that makes me smile as I see it open the door to my hospital room several days later.

"Hey, fiancée!" Jamie says, giving me a soft kiss on my still-pounding forehead. "Feeling any better?"

"A lot better now you're here," I say, making Jamie giggle coyly. "But still in a lot of pain..."

"Can- can I see, umm, 'it'?" Jamie asks. "I'd really like to know what I'm going to spend the rest of my life, umm, well... You know..."

"I haven't even seen it yet," I giggle. "But when I get out, then yes, you can. WE can. We will, together."

"How long will that be?" Jamie asks. "You've been in here six days already..."

"You were in hospital for longer," I remind my fiancée. "Just a few more days. Though I'm going to be cathetered for longer... Need a second surgery for my urethra to 'join up' and that won't be until early next year..."

"So you're still going to be sitting down to pee?" Jamie asks.

"Yeah, but not for long!" I say, making Jamie giggle. "I know, it's such a small thing, but I've been waiting, my whole life for it. Here I am without a single Y chromosome in my body, but I now have a penis dangling off the front of it. Guess I don't need to tell you how much of a dream come true this is..."

"Indeed you don't," Jamie says, kissing me again on the forehead. "Get some rest, sexy. The sooner you recover, the sooner we can put that new part of yours to work!" I giggle as Jamie starts reading 'get well' tweets she's been asked to pass on from her fans on Facebook and twitter, but in truth I'd be happy even if Jamie came in here and started reading the phone book to me. Her mere presence is more than enough to make me start to feel better, and sure enough, I leave the hospital a few days later with a smile on my face- even though my body is confined to a wheelchair. As I arrive home, however, my smile turns into tears of joy as I see all my friends waiting for me on the driveway to my parents' home, a huge banner stretching across the front of the house the reads 'welcome home, big man!'.

"Oh my god oh my god!" Becca squeaks, coming over and giving me a thankfully gentle hug. "I can't believe you finally did it! What does it feel like? Does it still hurt?"

"Becca!" Mum snaps, silencing my increasingly-famous younger sister. "Welcome home, Stuart! We've set up a bed for you in the den so you won't have to go upstairs. We've got everything you'll need- your laptop, your keyboard, your PlayStation all set up, so you can just take your time and recover at your own pace."

"Thanks, mum," I say with a smile. "Thank you all for coming! It's been a hard few days-"

"Wahey!" Dan laughs, making me roll my eyes.

"It's been a DIFFICULT few days," I say, making everyone (especially Dan) laugh. "But I'm feeling a lot better, I'll be back on my feet soon, and I'll soon be back to the old Stuart you know and love."

"Boo," Becca jokingly calls.

"You- shut up," I say, making my little sister laugh. "But seriously, thank you all, it means a lot to me that you're all here today. And no, you can't see it." I smile as the crowd laughs, before Mikey grabs the back of my wheelchair and pushes me into the house where I'm gingerly lowered onto the sofa.

"Did I miss much whilst I was in hospital?" I ask.

"Not really," Jamie says as she sits down next to me. "Nikki and her friends had a party as they started uni this Monday just gone, that's all."

"Which raises an important question," Becca says with a smirk on her face. "When are you going to celebrate getting that ring onto Jamie's finger?"

"All in good time," I chuckle. "Right now, all I want to do is rest..."

"Could you stand to listen to an hour of your sister and four other girls singing?" Mikey asks, waving a recordable CD in my face.

"I've spent sixty hours a week doing that for the last month," I say, making everyone laugh. "...But it would be a good way to start to get back to normal, I guess!" Mikey and Becca both giggle as they pop the CD into my stereo, and immediately the songs begin to evoke a feeling of 'home' in my tired, aching body. Even though I know every note of the songs forward and backward- and even though it's not my preferred type of music- I enjoy every last second of the album. In fact, I enjoy every last second of my day- surrounded by my sister, my oldest friend and the woman I love more than anything. Emma and Lee drop by later in the evening, bringing along my nephew for me to briefly play with, and Mikey and Jamie stick around until late into the evening- Jamie even offering to skip her traditional 'girls night out' to stay in with me. I, however, want things to get back to normal as fast as possible, which includes not spending Friday nights with my fiancée!

I spend the vast majority of the next two weeks either on the sofa or heading back and forth to the hospital for various appointments, only occasionally heading out for special events such as a meal to celebrate the engagement of two more of our friends- but even then, I'm still confined to my wheelchair.

However, slowly but surely, my wounds heal- the stitches from my graft site are the first to be removed, leaving behind an ugly snake-like scar trailing from my armpit around my back. My blood drain and catheter are removed, and finally, the stitches around the base of my new penis are removed, allowing me to 'hang free' for the first-ever time in my life- and 'free' is exactly how I feel.

All throughout the recovery period, I am constantly reminded of just how many people I have in my life, how much I love them and how much they love me. Jamie is almost constantly by my side, as is Becca, to the point where they're almost in competition to see who can care for me the most. Emma and Lee make a point of dropping by and showing off their increasingly-handsome son, whilst Mikey drops by most days for as much of a jam session as I can manage with all the painkillers- not to mention pain itself- flowing through my body. The rest of the lads also drop by whenever they can- most nights at least four from myself, Mikey, Dan, Paul Kennedy, Jonathan and Riley while away the hours in seemingly endless videogame sessions. I'm even visited by the other girls- Krystie often tags along with her boyfriend Mikey, whilst Dan will sometimes bring Mary around, along with their daughter (and my goddaughter), who at 15 months is already turning into a beautiful young woman, even if she does seem to like calling me 'googurt'! Charlotte (Jamie's best friend) also drops round with her son (also my godson), however one person is conspicuous by his absence from my 'recovery room'- and that's the child's father, and my former best friend. I send him the occasional text message, and the occasional message passed on through Dan or one of the other guys, but I never hear anything back- even though Keith was the first person I'd told about booking in for the phalloplasty eighteen months earlier.

Nonetheless, I have a smile on my face every morning I wake up to begin another day of relaxing and recovering. Slowly, my penis starts to recover and begins to gain sensation along its length. I gradually move away from my careful washing routine and back to my normal daily routine of showers, and ultimately move my 'recovery room' back into my bedroom on the upper floor or our large house.

My walk stops being a lop-sided limp and becomes more confident as I relearn to get around unaided, and I entertain my mother and my sisters every time I sit down as my new genitals force me to 'man spread', despite the discomfort that causes to my still-feminine hips.

Finally, on November 17th, eight weeks after my surgery, I return to the music studio that has been like a second home to me for almost a year. In my absence, the album I'd worked on has been released, sold over fifty thousand copies (with even greater sales expected in the run up to Christmas) and peaked at fifth in the official UK album charts. Whilst this is cause for celebration, the management see it as cause to get another album started as soon as possible, even despite the band going on a UK tour early next year. Fortunately, my time off my feet has given me ample opportunity to write new songs for the band, which we spend most of the day recording.

By the time 4pm rolls around, however, the day's efforts have left me utterly exhausted, and when Jamie enters the studio gently caresses my shoulder, the only reaction I can manage is a tired, appreciative moan.

"Oh, stop being a big baby," Jamie giggles. "Don't forget, we're going out for dinner tonight with our parentses..."

"Yes, yes, I know," I laugh. "And yes, I also know you know exactly what I'm going through... Well, kind of, anyway." I smile as Jamie continues to gently massage my sore shoulders as I remember the days after Jamie's own SRS- which were also the days when she I first became lovers. For weeks, I'd be at her beck and call, assisting with minor things like helping her downstairs or running to the supermarket for her- all of which I did willingly. Now that the shoe is on the other foot, Jamie is just as willing to fuss over me as I was last spring- further proof that I was right to give her my grandmother's ring two months ago.

As I return home with Jamie, I take my team easing out of my jeans, wincing at the still-painful sensations I get whenever I bend down or lift either of my legs. Once my jeans are off, though, I can't help but stare at myself in the mirror. Every morning when I was- well, when I was a girl- I'd stare at myself in the mirror in my pants and sigh at the sight of my smooth, flat crotch. Now, when I look at myself in my boxer shorts, I'm almost more excited than when I see myself naked.

Whenever I look at my penis, I can't help but see it for what it truly is- a flap of flesh scraped out from under my armpit, shaped into a tube and sewn over what used to be my vagina. But when I look at myself in underwear, I see a bulge. A bulge just like any other man has on the front of his body. Whenever I'd go swimming with the lads, or anywhere that required us to change our clothes, I'd always feel a sense of embarrassment at my total lack of 'package'. Not anymore. I'm not going to be swimming for a good long while- not until I'm fully healed, anyway- but next time we go anywhere where we have to get undressed, it'll be all I can manage not to laugh and/or cry.

"You know," Jamie giggles as she cuddles me from behind, "it's been a while, but I'm pretty sure men AREN'T supposed to spend time checking out their own crotch!"

"I'm fairly certain the same applied for women and their crotches eighteen months ago," I say, making Jamie laugh even louder.

"I had to inspect 'it' for damage," Jamie says. "Can't do that with your pants on now, can you?" I turn around and smile smugly, before lowering my underpants and letting them fall to the floor, making Jamie smile happily.

"I SO can't wait to give you your first proper blowjob," Jamie says, gently stroking my penis with the back of her fingers. "Is- is that good for you?"

"Every time you touch me it's good," I say with a smile. "I don't have full sensation in it yet- that's still months away- but I know you're doing it, and yes, what I can feel feels really, really good." I giggle as Jamie slowly sinks to her knees, before giving my new penis a soft, gentle kiss that sends shivers through my body.

"Okay, that's enough for now," Jamie says. "I've probably done too much already, don't want your doctors bollocking me..."

"The sooner they 'bollock' me, the better," I say, making Jamie giggle again as I pull up my boxer shorts and gingerly step into a pair of smart black trousers.

"Uncomfortable?" Jamie asks as she slithers into a slinky black dress.

"Still taking some getting used to," I say. "I've been wearing my baggiest jeans for the last seven weeks... Some days I actually wished it was acceptable for guys to wear skirts, heh."

"I won't tell if you won't," Jamie says, making me laugh.

"What, with these legs?" I ask, lifting the bottoms of my trousers to reveal the thin, wiry hair covering my shins.

"You could shave it off," Jamie shrugs. "I won't tell about that either..."

"It took me nine years to grow this hair," I say as I pull on my smart white shirt and fasten a tie around my neck. "I'm not letting anyone remove a single one from my body!"

"Good man," Jamie says with a smile as she applies layer after layer of lipstick before dousing herself in her favourite sweet-smelling perfume. I watch, entranced, as the love of my life ties her long blonde hair into a stylish updo, before slipping her feet into torturous-looking high-heeled shoes and grabbing her handbag.

"You get more beautiful with every passing day," I say, making Jamie wrap her arms around my neck and give me a long, deep kiss.

"So do you," Jamie whispers, kissing me again before we head downstairs, where my parents are already waiting for us.

"Ah, here they come, man and soon-to-be-wife," dad chuckles.

"I hope all you were doing up there is getting changed," mum says, making me wince. "You know what your doctor said..."

"Mum, I'm NOT discussing my sex life with you," I say, making Jamie giggle.

"Just don't forget your doctor's advice!" Mum says as we head out to dad's large, posh car. Before long, the four of us arrive at the fancy restaurant we selected for tonight's meal, where we meet up with Jamie's parents. Fortunately, Jamie's parents have always got along well with my parents, so the dinner goes smoothly, even as I'm forced to decline a golfing trip with my father and my future father-in-law.

When Jamie and I arrive home, we both breathe sighs of relief as we strip off our posh clothing and climb into bed together.

"Are you really THAT tired?" Jamie asks, propping herself up on her side and staring down at my tired, supine form.

"It- well, 'it' is having more of an effect on me than I thought it would," I sigh. "It's more the pain than the actual, well, the 'it' itself. And the constant panic that it'll fall off at a moment's notice..."

"Oh- seriously?" Jamie asks.

"You've read the same literature I have," I sigh. "Maybe 'fall off' is a bit strong, but you've read the same testimonials about grafts not fully adhering, about guys suffering a fistula or worse... And you were in a constant state of panic after your SRS that you'd inadvertently damage your 'it'..."

"Only up until I had the stitches removed," Jamie says, gently stroking my face. "I'm not denying that 'it' is a bit more complicated for you, but you need to trust in your surgeon. He IS the best SRS surgeon in Europe- especially for FTMs- right?"

"Right," I say with a tired smile on my face.

"So stop panicking," my wise fiancée says, giving me a kiss on the forehead. "This is a new experience for you. It's only natural that it'll take some getting used to."

"Thanks," I say with a smile. "I love you, Jamie."

"I love you too, Stuart," Jamie says, kissing me one more time before switching off the light. When I wake up the following morning, Jamie is already awake and dressing for the day in one of her many expensive dresses.

"Don't mind me," I laugh, carefully sitting up.

"Heh, morning, sexy!" Jamie giggles as she puts on a pair of sparkly sapphire earrings. "Sorry I didn't wake you, but you looked so peaceful... I need to get out early, got ballet this morning then I'm out until late afternoon doing a shoot..."

"It's okay," I laugh. "Life goes on, penis or no penis..."

"I can safely say that's the first time I've ever heard anyone use that sentence!" My fiancée giggles. "But you take care, okay?"

"Yeah, got the guys coming round later this morning," I sigh. "Gaming marathon... Might make this our Wednesday morning routine, heh! Those of us who don't have actual work to do..."

"Ooh, you are SO lucky I already agreed to marry you," Jamie says in a mock-angry voice, before giggling yet again. "I'll see you later, Stu. And for the love of god, shave! Last few days it's felt like I've been kissing a cheese grater..." I smile as Jamie gives me an overly-puckered kiss goodbye, before leaving me alone in my bed. I eventually get up and- being a dutiful fiancé- shave, before showering and getting dressed, once again smiling at the new bulge in my boxer shorts before pulling on a trusty pair of baggy jeans and a loose, thick sweatshirt.

My friends arrive, as promised, just after 10am and we immediately set about our gaming session, but it soon becomes apparent that all is not well for one of my friends.

"Jon," Paul eventually says after a particularly intense Call of Duty match, "you have not said five fucking words since you got here."

"Sorry, sorry," Jonathan sighs. "Just got a lot on my plate right now..."

"Wedding stuff?" I ask, grimacing as Jonathan nods. "Thank god Jamie's agreed to wait until I'm better..."

"Honestly man," Jonathan sighs, making me chuckle at his unconscious use of the word 'man'. "Just take Jamie and elope somewhere, you'll be doing yourself a favour."

"I'll have as much chance of convincing Jamie to do that as you have of convincing Viks to do that," I laugh. "Both of them have their hearts set on huge, fancy weddings... They always have. And besides, why isn't Mr. Best Man offering any help?"

"Hey!" Dan moans. "I'm helping... I've got the stag night sorted, for starters!"

"Picking three clubs out of a phone book doesn't equal 'sorted'!" Jonathan laughs.

"I've also got the invite list written up," Dan shrugs.

"Everyone in this room plus Riley, right?" Jonathan asks, making Dan grimace.

"...And one more," Dan sighs. "Your original best man..." I remain silent as we begin our next game- the 'original best man' Dan is referring to is the same man who was my 'original' best friend- the same man who hasn't even so much as sent me a text message in the two months since my operation, and the same man with whom I 'competed' for Jamie's affections almost a year ago. And the same man who has twice split my lip open with a right hook within the last twelve months...

"Have any of you guys even spoken to Keith this year?" Mikey- who barely knows Keith- asks.

"I've been to a few 'father's event' things with him," Dan says. "He really is devoted to that little boy... Even if he only sees him, like, once a week... I reckon he misses Charlotte."

"...More than Jamie?" I ask, triggering an awkward silence.

"They were never really together," Dan says. "Him and Charlotte, on the other hand... They were together forever, they made a kid with each other..."

"Does- does he ever talk about any of us?" I ask. "Like, does he miss, you know, 'this'?"

"A bit," Dan whispers, nodding his head. "He doesn't mention any of us by name but I know he misses being part of the 'gang'. Think he mostly hangs out with his work friends nowadays."

"Where does he work?" Paul asks. "He was doing a Masters in history, wasn't he?"

"Yep," Dan confirms. "Works for some historical research firm in the centre of London, spends most of his days looking through old texts..."

"Sounds like the most boring thing ever," Paul says.

"Meh, if it makes him happy and pays his bills," I shrug. "Do you know which firm?"

"Umm, I've probably got the name of it on a text somewhere," Dan says. "Why?" I take a deep breath before continuing- even despite our violent encounters, even despite the deep betrayal Keith inflicted on me... I still miss him. And if he wants to be a part of the group again, then he should be.

"We should go and see him," I say, prompting a confused reaction from the other guys. "Invite him to the stag night, invite him back into the 'group'..."

"No offence mate," Jonathan says, "but are you sure your dick's securely attached? Last time you saw him you went away with a cut lip..."

"Yes, it's securely attached!" I say, making Jonathan grimace and hold up his hands apologetically. "Good thing about eight weeks off your feet is that you get time to think about things... And as much of a tosser as he can be at times, I DO sometimes miss the guy."

"You know it ain't gonna be the same, right?" Jonathan asks. "Not with what happened between you and Jamie..."

"I know I said he misses Charlotte more," Dan says, "but... I told him about you and Jamie getting engaged, and he- he basically insisted that we immediately change the subject. I reckon he was really, really cut up about it..."

"Then I should definitely go and see him in person," I say. "Either that or we risk completely fucking up Jon's stag night..."

"He'll be so shitfaced he probably won't even recognise you," Jonathan laughs.

"If you speak to him at work," Dan says, "he won't be able to respond like- well, like he's done recently..."

"Everyone fancy going out for lunch, then?" I ask.

"What?" Jonathan blurts. "There's no rush, I'm not getting married for another three months..."

"No sense in putting it off, either," I say. "And yes, my dick is securely attached. Come on, let's get this match sorted, then we'll go and see him."

"I'll text him, let him know we'll be meeting for lunch," Dan says as I focus on the game whilst internally starting to quake at the thought of seeing my former best friend one more time.

Ninety minutes later, the five of us- myself, Dan, Paul, Mikey and Jonathan- are sat around a table in a small, but still relatively posh cafe in the centre of London. I'm feeling particularly self-conscious about the fact that I'm sat on an orthopedic cushion, especially as it looks like I'm sat on a booster seat when compared to the other six foot plus men- but the combination of my sensitive 'area' and the cafe's hard wooden seats isn't one I'd be able to tolerate for long. I try to remain as calm as possible as I wait for my former friend to arrive, but my hands still tremble from nerves every time I hear someone walk in the front door. When that person finally turns out to be Keith, I'm forced to grip my coffee cup to keep them from shaking. The tall man immediately locks eyes with me as soon as he spots our table, and keeps his eyes trained on me as he sits down directly opposite me.

"Guys," Keith says in a quiet voice. "Stu."

"Keith," I say in a voice barely louder than a mumble, leading to an awkward silence.

"Hi, I'm Mikey Dawson," Mikey says, shaking Keith's hand. "We met a couple of times earlier in the year, I'm going out with Krystie..."

"Yeah, I know who you are," Keith mumbles. "Why have you brought me here again? Better question, why have you brought HIM here?" I smirk as Keith points a finger in my face- as irritated as he may be with me, he at least respects me enough to still refer to me as 'him'.

"We're all here because this shit needs to stop," Jonathan says. "I'm getting married in three months. I don't want a war at the ceremony. Or the reception. And especially not on the stag night!"

"Yes, I know," Keith says. "Congratulations. But I'm not coming to your wedding."

"Oh- what?" Jonathan asks. "Mate, we've known each other ages..."

"Yeah, I've moved on," Keith says. "Too much water under the bridge."

"That's crap," I say, making Keith fix me with a furious stare. "You made time for us today at a moment's notice, that's hardly 'moving on'..."

"I was free for lunch and Dan offered to pay," Keith shrugs.

"You still regularly see Charlotte," I argue.

"I see my son," Keith retorts. "Kinda hard not to see her when she's the boy's mother." I open my mouth to respond to Keith, but before I can speak I'm interrupted by a quiet, timid voice from behind me.

"Ex-excuse me?" The voice's owner, a nervous looking girl in her late teens asks. "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting, but- but are you, you know, the Angels' boyfriends?"

"Heh," Jonathan laughs as all of- Keith included- smile nervously. "Now I know how Viks feels. Yes, yes we are, heh."

"Oh my god," the young woman breathes excitedly. "I'm sorry, can- can I get a selfie with you all, please?"

"No offence," Mikey laughs, "But you must be pretty desperate if we're the best people you can find for a selfie!"

"No, it's not-" the girl says, before cringing with embarrassment. "I'm just a really big fan of the girls..."

"Come on," I say, making the girl giggle as the six of us pose with her for her selfie.

"Thanks!" the young woman says, giggling excitedly as she leaves us to our lunches.

"Now I definitely haven't missed THAT," Keith snorts.

"Oh, that's happened what, four times over the last year?" Dan asks.

"And on all four occasions," I say, "there were at least four of us together, making it more obvious who we were."

"Surprised she didn't go as far to congratulate you about your dick," Jonathan says, making Keith snort with laughter.

"Yeah, I was actually going to say something similar," Keith laughs. "Figured it was still a sensitive subject..."

"Just a bit," I laugh.

"But you actually went ahead and had it done?" Keith asks, making me smile.

"Indeed I have," I reply.

"So- what, if we go for a piss now, you'd-" Keith asks.

"Not quite," I interrupt. "Have to wait a few months to get a urethra constructed and, um, 'inserted'..."

"Can we not talk about pissing whilst I'm drinking apple-flavoured tea, please?" Paul asks, making everyone- Keith included- laugh.

"Or dicks," Jonathan says.

"You're the one who brought it up!" I tell the dark-skinned man.

"That's what she said," Keith says, making the entire table laugh again. "Okay, maybe I've missed this a little..."

"I know what you mean about water under the bridge," I say. "But we're guys, we're not supposed to hold grudges, right?"

"I guess," Keith shrugs. "Congratulations also on your engagement, I guess..."

"Thanks," I say. "I- I'm not going to apologise, um, for Jamie choosing me-"

"Nah, you 'won' fair and square," Keith sighs. "Guess that's what hurt the most..."

"And you are welcome to come to our wedding," I say. "Whenever the hell that'll be. Assuming, of course, you're up for it..."

"I'll think about it," Keith says. "No promises, though."

"What about my stag?" Jonathan asks. "Dan's apparently got it all planned..."

"Trust your best man, okay?" Dan says. "I guarantee you'll be hungover as fuck the day you get married. I damn well owe you that after my wedding..."

"You weren't THAT pissed," I remind the dark-haired man.

"We'll have to try harder for Jonathan then," Keith says, making the groom-to-be groan.

"And then when it's Stu's turn, we basically bathe him in vodka," Jonathan says, making everyone laugh yet again, a laughter that persists right up until Keith makes his excuses just before 2pm. As the six of us leave the cafe- thankfully without running into any further 'fans'- Keith turns to me with a smile on his face.

"You still get on Destiny much, mate?" Keith asks.

"Now and again," I say, wary of Keith's sudden cheerfulness.

"Fancy a session tonight?" Keith asks.

"Um, sure!" I say, a smile creeping over my face as I get back into Mikey's car.

"Hey Keith!" Dan shouts as Keith starts to head back to work. "Umm, Friday night gaming session's at my place this week, you up for it?"

"Sure!" Keith laughs. "Kinda had Friday nights free since starting my job..."

"Right, well you've got a lot of pizza buying to make up for," Dan laughs. "Usual orders haven't changed. See you then!" Dan chuckles as he waves Keith off, but as hard as I try, I can't wipe the smile off my face at having my friend back.

Sure enough, that night- in between shooting countless aliens- the two of us finally clear the air, discussing my SRS, Jamie, Charlotte, Keith's son... By the time 11:30pm rolls around, neither of us wants to go to bed, despite us both having work tomorrow. As we both switch off our Playstations, however, Keith says something unexpected that catches me by surprise.

"I had a lot of fun tonight, mate," Keith says. "I'll see you on Friday. Take care of Jamie... Tell her I miss her, and tell her to tell Charlotte that I REALLY miss her... Talk soon, mate."

"Umm, okay, will do," I say, taken aback by Keith's confession. "Night, mate..."

Sure enough, when Friday rolls around, as Jamie and her friends enjoy their traditional night out, I'm sat in Dan's apartment with my friends, eating pizza, drinking beer and playing videogames. It's a testament to my friends that even despite my new 'equipment', I don't feel any more like one of the boys than I did before my SRS- none of my friends had ever met 'Claire', they simply accepted 'Stuart' on face value. It still amazes me how people who've only known me for a few years can do this, when so-called members of my family seemingly can't...

Three months later, I emerge from hospital once again in a lot of pain, once again attached to a catheter, only this catheter is inserted through my penis into my brand-new urethra. I've even had 'the pair' I wanted inserted- even if they are stiff rubber balls rather than real testicles.

The catheter means I can't enjoy Jonathan's wedding as much as I otherwise would- and can't attend the promised stag night at all- and it also keeps me mostly off my feet for mine and Becca's birthdays in March, but eventually, the catheter is removed, and with the aid of my nurse, I'm directed to the toilet in my private hospital room, which I stand in front of, penis in hand.

"Okay," I whisper, taking a deep breath.

"Take your time," the nurse says. "This is a big moment, no rush."

"I don't want to take too long and get that catheter put back in me," I moan.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," the nurse says as I relax and I feel my urethral sphincter opening, moments later, I shudder as a steady stream of urine flows out of the end of my penis, making a loud splashing noise as it hits the water below. Once I'm 'done', I'm almost in tears- it's such a simple thing, peeing, but every time in my life that I sat down and heard the feminine 'tinkle' of urine against a toilet bowl, it was a constant reminder of what I 'really' was. Now, every time I see the urine flow from the end of my penis, it'll be a reminder that I don't have to accept things with which I disagree.

I WAS a girl. But I didn't have to be, and I'm not anymore. I HAD a vagina, but I didn't have to have one, and now I'm the proud owner of a functional penis. Keith WAS my enemy... But now, once again, he's my friend, and is one of the many men standing outside my hospital room with a wide grin on my face as I emerge, one fist raised in triumph.

"No more sitting down for me!" I say, making the lads cheer. "High five, anyone?"

"Only if you promise you washed your hands first!" Keith says, before giving me a firm handshake and an awkward, manly hug. Sure, life isn't perfect- my relationship with my grandmother is still non-existent, for starters- but life doesn't HAVE to be perfect. It just has to be lived in the best way you see fit. And right now? With my fiancée, my mates and last, but not least, my genitals... It's hard to see how my life can get any better.

“Mmph,” I moan as I feel a gentle breeze blow on my left ear, worsening the thumping headache caused by the alcohol I drank last night.

“Wake up,” A familiar voice whispers, before the breeze on my ear resumes.

“Stop that,” I moan. “I’m on holiday, I don’t want to wake up…”

“WE’RE on holiday,” my fiancée reminds me, her blowing turning from a gentle breeze into a hurricane as she blows directly into my earhole.

“Ugh,” I moan. “Can I at least shift this hangover first?”

“Tell you what,” Jamie giggles. “Get up in the next five minutes, and I’ll blow a different part of your anatomy…” I smile as I whip the covers off my still-tired body, which are quickly replaced by Jamie’s warm, soft arms.

Fifteen minutes later, with my body tingling with energy, I head into Jamie’s en-suite to shower away the sweat of my latest ‘encounter’ with Jamie- and try to wash away the madness of the last seven days.

Ever since Jamie and I got engaged eleven months ago, we’ve spent countless hours planning what we believe will be the most perfect wedding ever. We picked out venues, colour schemes, caterers… Only to have our plans repeatedly dashed as our chosen dates are pushed back and back so that the wedding can be filmed for the Angels’ reality show- even though it hasn’t been renewed yet for a fourth season.

The frustration reached fever pitch last week when Viks- one of Jamie’s chosen bridesmaids- announced that she was pregnant, due in February and would therefore be the size of a house by the time of our wedding in December. The following day, Jamie and I hopped on a plane to Las Vegas, the idea being that we’d elope and ‘get it over with’… Only for calmer minds to prevail once we were in America. The phrase ‘get it over with’ should never, ever apply to an occasion as joyous as a wedding. Jamie and I both agreed that our union should be celebrated in as big and extravagant a manner as possible. It’s our day, not Viks’s or any of the other bridesmaids, and most certainly not a stupid production company’s. We didn’t want our special day- the most special we’ll ever have, given that neither of will ever be able to have children- to be truly special, not celebrated in some ratty chapel in Las Vegas. Therefore, we returned to England still engaged but not married… Yet.

However, our slot at the chapel was used for its intended purpose, as I’m reminded when I head downstairs to find Charlotte sat at the kitchen table with her son and her new husband.

“Morning, mate!” Keith laughs, shoving a plate of bacon and eggs underneath my still-queasy nose.

“Morning,” I say, inwardly sighing at the sight of the plain gold band on Keith’s left ring finger. I’ll get one of my own soon, I mentally remind myself as I tuck into my breakfast. “Not at work today?”

“Nope,” Keith says smugly. “Got the whole rest of the week off, told my bosses I’d eloped and they insisted on giving me the week off as a ‘honeymoon’, heh.”

“Even though you’d just been on holiday to America?” I ask. “Twice, in fact.”

“I’m not going to turn down a holiday!” Keith laughs. “Besides, it means I get to spend more time with my new wife!”

“Even though we’re having an ‘Angel mother & baby’ morning today?” Charlotte asks.

“Mother, baby and godmother, that is,” Jamie giggles as she sits down next to me and gives me a gentle kiss that makes my heart beat faster- not that it wasn’t already pumping at the sight of her in her tight black swimsuit and long, floaty skirt.

“Eh, we’ve still got the pool, I guess,” I laugh, smiling at the feel of the fabric of my own loose swimming shorts underneath my even looser khaki trousers.

“Wrong,” Charlotte says smugly. “WE’VE got the pool. You BOYS can, I dunno, stay indoors all day sweating and playing videogames or something.”

“Sounds like most Augusts when I was at school, heh,” Keith laughs.

“Same here,” I laugh. Well, I think to myself. Most Augusts from the age of sixteen onward, anyway.

Sure enough, an hour later, Keith and I- along with Dan, Jonathan and Mikey- are sat on Charlotte’s expensive leather sofas, videogame controllers in hand and musky, masculine sweat in our armpits.

“Jeez, Keith,” Jonathan moans. “Has your WIFE never heard of air conditioners?”

“Still,” Dan laughs. “Can’t have been as hot as it was in Las Vegas, right?” I chuckle as the men all playfully jeer the newly-married man.

“Especially in a tuxedo,” I say, prompting more laughs.

“You know,” Dan says, “it’s not the eloping I mind so much, it’s the fact that you never let us take you on a stag night.”

“Given how fucked you- and I mean you personally- got both of us on our stags,” Jonathan interjects, “we seriously owe you.”

“Well, it’d be appropriate,” I say, earning quizzical stares from my friends. “He went on the honeymoon first, then got married, so if we keep doing things in reverse, that means the stag night is next, right?”

“You bastard!” Keith cheerfully laughs as the playful jeers continue.

“Mate, we are SO taking you on a stag,” Jonathan laughs.

“You sure that’s appropriate, Mr. Father-to-be?” Mikey asks as the playful jeers get redirected toward Jonathan.

“Viks ain’t due for another six months,” Jonathan laughs. “Dan’s missus, on the other hand…”

“Has got her brother staying with us for the next week,” Dan laughs as we finish our game. “Okay, which game next?”

“You need to ask?” I ask, prompting jeers as I retrieve my copy of Rock Band from the bookshelf and set up the various plastic instruments for my friends. With Paul- our usual lead singer- at work, Mikey and I take turns at the microphone, and after eight songs, we’re both exhausted from the effort and the ridiculous level of heat in the sitting room.

“Great choice, Stu,” Jonathan laughs. “How much sweat will Charlotte have to wring out of her cushions?”

“Okay,” I laugh as I flop onto the sofa. “Maybe back to Battleborn, then?”

“You know…” Dan says. “Playing Rock Band’s give me an idea for Keith’s stag…”

“We’re not spending my stag playing a fucking videogame,” Keith protests.

“Nah, I don’t mean actually playing Rock Band itself,” Dan says. “But, you know, we’ve always talked about going to the Fringe, right? In Edinburgh?”

“And it is an awesome experience that everyone should go to at least once,” Mikey says. “Been trying to persuade Stu to come with me for ages.”

“You’ve never been?” Keith asks me.

“Never had the chance,” I sigh. “When I was at uni, every summer I was either away with my family or getting bits scooped out of me.”

“And you’ve got yet ANOTHER operation next week,” Jonathan sighs.

“The last ever one, hopefully,” I laugh, thinking about the final operation I’m due to go in for a week tomorrow- the operation that will insert an inflatable implant into my penis that will allow it to become erect without the need for wearing a rigid sheath or, worse yet, inserting anything into my penis. Even though it's been eleven months, I still smile whenever I say, or even think, the words 'my penis'.

“Well, it’s a double celebration, then,” Jonathan laughs. “You getting fixed- well, the opposite of ‘fixed’, I suppose, Keith getting hitched. You’ve not got any holiday booked this year, have you?”

“Umm, no,” I reply. “Me and Jamie just stayed home. Unless you count splashing several grand on flights to Las Vegas, anyway.”

“Right,” Jonathan says with a laugh. “We’re going to Edinburgh, then.”

“Don’t Fringe tickets cost money?” Keith asks. “And wouldn’t they all be sold out by now?”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t simply go to the city,” Mikey says. “Edinburgh’s an awesome place even when the Fringe isn’t on, and there are usually non-Fringe attractions to enjoy.”

“…Alright,” I say. “Let’s do it. Edinburgh or bust!”

“And when these three clear it with their wives…” Mikey laughs.

“Oh, piss off!” Jonathan retorts. “Like Krystie wouldn’t rip your balls off if you didn’t tell her beforehand!”

“Same goes for you and Jamie,” Dan snorts at me. “And you’ve only just got your balls!”

“They’ve got a point,” Mikey sighs, shooting a sad smile in my direction.

“Guys,” I sigh. “I think we’re going to need to make a united stand on this one.” My friends all nod at my words, the sombre looks on their faces telling me that they’re not looking forward to what’s coming next…

“Oh look,” Krystie teases as myself, Keith, Dan, Mikey and Jonathan stand by the side of the swimming pool where the girls are all laid out in their bikinis and swimsuits. “I do believe the BOYS are trying to make a stand…”

“Ladies,” Dan says, his nervous gulp ruining his confident exterior.

“BOYS,” the six women- our partners plus Hannah, the only single Angel- respond in unison.

“We’re going on a road trip for the next few days,” Jonathan says, before withering under s stare from his (much shorter) wife. “Umm, if that’s okay…”

“It’s- um, to celebrate Keith getting married,” Dan mumbles. “Kinda like a, um, stag night, only, you know, after the wedding instead of before…”

“And we’re only just finding out about this NOW!?” Charlotte retorts in an incredulous voice that even makes some of the girls wince.

“You’re just going to go swanning off, only stopping long enough to say ‘bye’?” Jamie asks me, making my insides churn.

“You just find out I’m pregnant,” Viks snaps at Jonathan. “We literally only had the party last night, and you’re now telling me you’re sodding off to god knows where?”

“And I’m the size of a house!” Mary snaps, making her husband suddenly look six inches tall. “Where exactly were you thinking of going, anyway?”

“Um, Edinburgh,” I mumble, earning furious stares from the guys and incredulous stares from the girls.

“Oh, so just down the road, then?” Jamie asks, making me wilt even further.

“You- I can’t believe the five of you!” Krystie hisses, leading to an awkward silence as the five of us all stare at our shoes.

“Bwa ha ha!” Hannah yells, breaking the silence as us guys stare on in confusion.

“…Uh?” Jonathan asks as the other five women all laugh smugly.

“Sometimes,” Viks giggles, “you need reminding just who it is who owns your ass!”

“So- so you’re okay with this?” Jonathan asks.

“We were only planning on going for a couple of days, I swear-“ Dan says, before being silencing by a big hug from his wife.

“If I go into labour, your ass is back here IMMEDIATELY,” Mary says, making Dan breathe a sigh of relief.

“Did you really think I’d stop you from going on your first proper guys’ holiday?” Jamie whispers as she wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a long, soft kiss.

“I did kinda worry that I’d have to leave ‘bits’ of me behind as collateral,” I say, making Jamie giggle.

“Well, those ‘bits’ DO belong to me…” Jamie teases. “But I want them in perfect condition when you get back, okay?”

“Okay,” I laugh, returning Jamie’s kiss before returning to the kitchen with the other four guys.

“We are SO whipped,” Mikey sighs.

“Yep,” Dan concedes. “But we love it really, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” I say amid general murmurs of agreement.

“Really?” Jonathan asks me with a cautious tone to his voice. “You never, you know, fancied holding the other end of the whip?”

“I was never in a relationship before I was Stuart,” I explain. “Don’t know what it’s like to ‘hold the whip’, heh. And to be honest… I’m happy not knowing.”

“Good man,” Dan laughs, giving me a playful pat on the shoulder.

My friends stick around for another hour, only leaving when their partners (and, where applicable, children) depart. With the pool now free, Keith and I take the opportunity to relax outside in the sun with our partners, before heading inside as the afternoon turns into evening. As we head back into the living room, however, the look or pure disgust that creeps across Charlotte’s and Jamie’s faces tell us that we’re in a LOT of trouble.

“Oh- jeez,” Jamie grimaces, pinching her nose.

“Ugh,” Charlotte gags. “Seriously, do you guys not know how to open a window? This place is going to reek of guy sweat for weeks!”

“You know I’ll take that as a compliment, right?” I ask.

“It wasn’t intended as one,” Jamie chokes as she grabs a can of floral-scented air freshener and liberally sprays it around the room. “Seriously, next time you’re going to sweat everywhere, either open a window or spray the air freshener, or I’ll spray the air freshener all over the two of you!”

“…Yes, Jamie,” I mumble.

“Same applies for whatever vehicle you pick for your road trip,” Jamie says. “Either disinfect it, sell it or burn it when you’re done. And you’re going under that shower for a WEEK before I touch you again.”

“Yes, Jamie,” I mumble, biting my lip to keep myself from giggling at my fiancée’s rant. A quick glance at Keith tells me that he’s also struggling to keep a straight face.

“Now- just- sit down on the floor,” Jamie sighs, before picking an ‘unsoiled’ part of the sofa to relax onto for the rest of the evening.

After a relaxing evening, Jamie and I head to bed, where I grin happily as I watch Jamie peel off the clothes she’s worn all day, before returning the favour and making a show of stripping off my shorts, which I playfully fling into Jamie’s face, making her giggle and grimace in equal measure.

“Eww,” Jamie laughs. “I thought we spent the whole evening talking about how your scent WASN’T good thing?”

“Ahh, you love it really,” I laugh as I climb onto the bed and press my naked body against Jamie’s.

“I love YOU,” Jamie says, giving me a slow, soft kiss. “What comes out of you, on the other hand…”

“It’s summer, people tend to sweat in summer,” I retort. “It’s not like your sweat smells any better…”

“Yes it does,” Jamie snorts. “You’d spend all evening with your face pressed into the gusset of my swimsuit if you had the chance.”

“…Yeah, okay, I probably would,” I sigh, making Jamie giggle even louder.

“You know,” Jamie says, “sometimes I really have a hard time believing that you were ever female. Especially since the addition of ‘Mister Milton’, heh!”

“That is kinda the idea,” I laugh. “Obviously the same goes for you in reverse, and not just because of ‘Miss Burke and the twins’!”

“Thank you,” Jamie giggles. “But I was always a feminine boy, oestrogen didn’t make me 5’ 5” and slender…”

“Whereas at a skinny 5’ 7”, I’ll never be ultra-masculine no matter how much T I take?” I ask.

“…I didn’t want to be the one to say it,” Jamie grimaces. “One thing’s for sure, though- it’s what’s on the inside that counts. And this-“ Jamie smiles as she places her slender hand on my flat, hairy chest- “is the heart of a MAN.”

“…Is this permission to place my hand on your chest?” I ask, making Jamie smile.

“Both hands, yes,” Jamie says, and I don’t need a second invitation.

As I wake up the following morning, I giggle softly as the smell of Jamie’s sweet-smelling sweat drifts into my nostrils. Despite my protests last night, I’m forced to concede that Jamie is correct, especially as I sniff my armpits and recoil at the smell. I have to laugh, though- ten years ago, I’d probably have been proud at smelling the way I do.

Before showering, I take the opportunity to shave off the light layer of stubble that’s accumulated on my face, and I also empty my bladder, smiling at the very familiar, very masculine splashing sound of the urine at it hits the water in the bottom of the bowl. For years I’d use public male toilets and try not to sigh as I was forced to sit in a cubicle, listening to the sound of my ‘stream’ tinkle against the side of the bowl. It still baffles me how some people think that due to an accident of birth, I should be forced to use women’s public toilets whilst Jamie and girls like her should use the men’s room. Despite my height, despite my bone structure, despite my supposedly ‘cute’ face… I AM a man. I don’t need to prove it to anyone- not anymore, anyway.

I’m that confident in my masculinity that as I step out of the shower, I pause before grabbing my deodorant, instead sharing at mine & Jamie’s toiletries shelf with a wicked grin on my face…

“Mmph,” Jamie moans as I wave my armpit in her face. “Mmm… Stu?” Jamie slowly opens her eyes, blinking in confusion at the sight of my hairy armpit in her face. “Why are you- wait… Is that my deodorant!?”

“Well you reckon mine obviously isn’t working, don’t you?”

“You- you arsehole!” Jamie moans. “It’s a roll-on deodorant… I swear, if I find a hair on there I’m taking it and shoving it up your arse!”

“Do you still have any lubricant in your nightstand?” I ask, laughing harder as Jamie hurls a pillow at my face.

Thirty minutes later- with Jamie thankfully not following through on her threat- the two of us head down to the kitchen hand-in-hand, me in the same trousers I was wearing yesterday, whilst Jamie (and, when I see her, Charlotte) is dressed in her typical Wednesday morning attire of a pair of pink tights and a skin-tight black leotard, both of which I’m itching to peel off of Jamie’s body despite (or maybe because of) how sweaty they will inevitably become over the course of the morning.

“And you were complaining at us yesterday for sweating too much,” Keith laughs as he feeds his son his breakfast. “An hour of strenuous physical activity in a room with several other women ISN’T sweaty?”

“Our sweat smells like sunshine and happiness,” Charlotte immediately retorts, making me chuckle at the similarities between my relationship with Jamie and Keith’s with his new wife.

“You could always borrow Charlotte’s deodorant to TRY to prove her wrong,” Jamie says, shooting an accusatory glance in my direction.

“He learned his lesson the hard way the last time he tried that,” Charlotte says with a smug grin. “Why, has Mr. Milton taken a liberty he really shouldn’t have?” I bite my lip as Charlotte and Jamie both look accusingly in my direction- though I can’t help but grin the knowledge that Keith has done the exact same thing as me in the past.

“Men,” Jamie sighs. “They’re ALL idiots.”

“They don’t mean that, son,” Keith chuckles.

“He’ll be okay,” Charlotte says as she gives her son a gentle cuddle. “Right up until he hits thirteen, anyway…”

“Come on, eat up,” Keith urges me and my fiancée. “Gotta get you two to ballet, and meanwhile, this little one’s got a date with his girlfriend!” Jamie and Charlotte both giggle as we finish our breakfast and carry Keith junior out to Keith’s car, and after dropping the two women off at Krystie’s dance studio, we head straight to Dan & Mary’s posh flat, where the couple are relaxing on their sofa- and their two year old daughter is anything but relaxed!

“Uncle Stu! Uncle Stu!” Kristina-Leigh excitedly squeaks as she half-toddles, half-runs toward me in her tiny pink tutu.

“Whoa, easy!” I laugh, picking the tiny girl up before she falls over and handing her to her father. “What have you been feeding her, espresso?”

“She gets her tutu on and all she can think about is dancing,” Dan laughs as he cuddles his daughter, trying to calm her down. “Don’t you, Kristina-Leigh?” Everyone in the room- even us men- sigh happily as the adorable little girl nods her head.

“Is that her boyfriend you’ve got in that car seat?” Dan’s heavily-pregnant wife asks.

“Yep!” Keith says proudly, holding his son next to Dan’s daughter. “Say hello to Kristina-Leigh, Keith!”

“Say hi to Keith, Kristina-Leigh!” Dan coos, prompting yet more happy sighs as the two infants wave at each other. “Have either of you heard from Jon yet?”

“Straight down to business,” Mary laughs. “You’ll be seeing him in about 45 minutes anyway when he picks up Viks.”

“Yeah, true, I guess,” Keith says. “I’m really excited for this, though, been ages since I last went on a proper ‘guy’s holiday’, every holiday I’ve been on recently has been with Charlotte.”

“What- what about when you were, you know…” I ask hesitantly.

“…Didn’t go on any holidays,” Keith mumbles.

“Mate,” Dan whispers. “We’d have taken you on a road trip when you were feeling down, all you had to do was ask.”

“And if it makes you feel any better… This’ll be my first ever ‘guy’s holiday’,” I say, prompting an awkward silence.

“Really?” Mary asks. “I thought you started transitioning before uni, you never went on any road trips then?”

“Nah,” I sigh. “’Spring break’ isn’t quite as big a thing in England as it is in America, and summer I was either getting surgery or going away with my family. Which was a better option anyway, given how rich my parents are, heh.”

“Must’ve been weird,” Keith muses. “I mean, the first holiday as ‘Stuart’. That’d have been ten years ago- well, today, right?”

“Yep,” I sigh. “Last holiday as ‘Claire’ was much weirder, though.” And how, I think to myself as I remember the summer of 2005.

Even though I wouldn’t start properly transitioning for another seven months, I still knew, even at the age of fifteen, that I was fundamentally wrong, that ‘Claire’ was not the person I was supposed to be. Spending a week in Greece, wearing nothing but bikinis, swimsuits and loose skirts all week just served to hammer that home. The worst thing of all, though was my sister Emma.

Emma, of course, didn’t realise what it was that she was doing at the time, and when we were discussing the holiday after I started transitioning she apologised profusely, but all throughout the holiday, I was one provocation away from exploding- and Emma was happy to supply those provocations thick and fast, in the form of ‘handsome’ young Greek men. At the time, Emma was seventeen and has just split from her boyfriend of nine months, whilst I was (of course) single and not looking. This didn’t deter Emma, though- every morning we headed to the beach, she’d come up to me with two Greek boys and all but instructed me to pick one, which I, of course, refused to do. All throughout my final year of school, Emma was constantly concerned that I hadn’t yet found myself a boyfriend, though that concern thankfully vanished on my sixteenth birthday when ‘Stuart’ was born.

In summer 2006- two and a half months after I’d taken my first testosterone tablet- I went with the family on holiday to Cyprus, where I didn’t attract the attention of a single boy all week. Of course, I didn’t attract any girls either, especially as my chest was still ‘endowed’ so I wore an elastic bandage and a loose t-shirt all week, but I was able to relax and enjoy the holiday in a way I’d never been able to before. In summer 2011, after I graduated from university, I went with the family on holiday to Gran Canaria, where I was able to relax in the sun, my chest unencumbered by breasts, bandages or t-shirts. Of course, I didn’t attract many girls then, either- mainly as my time was occupied swatting Spanish boys away from the sixteen year old Becca!

“God, that sounds horrible,” Jamie says later in the night as I recount to her the story of my last holiday as ‘Claire’. “Never really picked Emma as the boy-hungry type, though.”

“Oh, believe me, before she met Lee…” I say, making Jamie laugh.

“Come on, get into bed,” Jamie says, patting the sheets next to her. “Early start tomorrow!”

“Ah, I’m too excited to get to sleep,” I laugh as I get into bed. “There is something that would help me sleep, though…” I smile very smugly as Jamie rolls her eyes, before mouthing ‘you owe me’ and disappearing beneath the sheets…

I let out a loud yawn and stretch my tired body as my alarm clock wakes me just after 6:30am, and after unwrapping my arms from around Jamie’s still-slumbering body, I pad through to her en-suite to shower, before spraying on a liberal cloud of my own Lynx deodorant, grabbing the small overnight bag I packed last night, kissing my fiancée on the cheek and heading down to the vast house’s driveway, where I laugh incredulously at the sight that greets me.

“Say hi to the guymobile!” Jonathan laughs as he gestures to the small minibus that already has Dan and Paul Kennedy sat in the rear seats.

“We’re driving up to Edinburgh in THAT?” I ask.

“We will be when Keith wakes up, anyway,” Jonathan laughs. “Might be a bit of a squeeze but we’ll be fine. Plenty of stops along the way to Edinburgh.”

“Mor-ning…” Keith says, his jaw dropping as he sees the ‘guymobile’. “Seriously? Six of us are squeezing into that all the way to Scotland?”

“Eight,” Jonathan says smugly. “We’re picking up Riley and Danny en route. Would’ve been nine but your brother said he couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Think he’s going on holiday with his girlfriend and her ‘Angels’ this weekend… So, um, are we strapping people to the roof rack or something?”

“Thanks for volunteering, mate,” I laugh as I dump my bag in the rear of the minibus and pick out a window seat. Secretly, though, as much as I’m looking forward to the holiday, the ‘trip’ part of the road trip leaves me feeling apprehensive- not just because of the inevitable smell that will be produced by seven men- well, eight, including myself- trapped in a minibus on a hot summer’s day, but because of just how cramped it’ll inevitably become…

Forty-five minutes later, with the minibus fully packed with people, we leave London behind and set off north. As soon as we pass the M25, however, it becomes clear that this isn’t going to be a straightforward road trip.

“Umm… Jon,” I ask our driver. “I’m no geography expert but isn’t the fastest way from London to Edinburgh on the A1? I mean, that’s literally the main reason that road exists.”

“Life’s a journey, not a destination!” Jonathan laughs. “We’ll be in Edinburgh tomorrow, but first, got a few places I want to visit first. You and Mikey went to uni in Nottingham, didn’t you?”

“Yep,” I reply.

“I’m actually from Nottingham,” Mikey interjects.

“Perfect!” Jonathan laughs. “Next stop: Robin Hood country!” I force a smile on my face as the ‘guymobile’ heads northwards, something made easier when Jonathan sticks a CD in the minibus’s stereo. With the conversation temporarily halted, I (and many of the other guys) immediately get out my smartphone and start checking my email, taking my time composing a reply to a caterer who’d sent myself and Jamie designs for our wedding cake.

“Hey Stu,” Paul laughs, breaking my concentration. “What’re you doing, writing a novel?”

“Ugh, replying to a wedding cake supplier,” I reply. “Jamie and I sent an enquiry to them and they’ve sent back a massive demand for more details.”

“Um, any reason Jamie can’t handle that?” Dan asks. “Thought this was a ‘guymobile’?”

“I’m just giving my tuppence worth,” I say.

“Sounds like you’re giving them £50’s worth,” Dan laughs. “Do you know what details I gave to the people who made mine & Mary’s cake? The word ‘sponge’. That’s it.”

“Same for me and Viks,” Jonathan says. “First bastards we went to actually said ‘do you want half chocolate, half vanilla’, so I just left that all to Viks before I got pissed off and punched someone.”

“Who’s going to be the bride in your wedding again, Stu?” Riley asks, earning an angry stare.

“The one who DOESN’T have a penis,” I retort, silencing the tall blond man.

“Then prove it and put the phone away,” Jonathan orders, and I sigh as I put my phone back in my pocket, leaving my email unfinished.

“Who’s taking care of your gym while you’re away?” I ask Dan & Paul.

“We’ve got employees,” Paul shrugs. “Better question would be who’s taking care of your band while you and Mikey are away?”

“We’re not in the studio EVERY day,” I say. “Think the girls are doing some publicity shots today.”

“Yeah,” Danny- who, like me, has a younger sister in Out of Heaven- concurs. “Steph said they’re doing a shoot in motorcycle leathers or something.”

“Think Becca said the same thing,” Riley says. “Promised she’d send me photos after the shoot-“

“Don’t want to know what type of photos my baby sister sends you, thank you very much,” I say, earning snorts of laughter from the other guys. “Quick reminder that if Becca ever comes to me crying about you, every single person in this bus has pledged to beat the [s**t] out of you.”

“Yes, yes, message received,” Riley sighs.

“Ah, sweet,” Danny laughs. “So if anyone breaks Steph’s heart?”

“Sure,” Jonathan shrugs. “Same also applies to Addie, even though she’s more likely to chuck her fella than the other way round…”

“Only exception,” Dan interjects, “is if one of the ‘little sisters’ hooks up with and has her heart broken by another girl.”

“No danger of that with Becca,” I snort.

“Damn right there isn’t,” Riley says, laughing as I give him a semi-playful elbow in the ribs.

“Guys,” Jonathan interrupts, stopping our ‘fight’ before it begins, “we have officially entered Nottinghamshire!”

“Finally,” Keith laughs. “I am literally dying for a piss.”

“Why have we picked Nottingham as a stopover anyway?” Danny asks. “I know you guys went to uni there, but what else is there in Nottingham?” Mikey and I both grin slyly as the ‘guymobile’ heads into the centre of the midland city, pulling up outside a restaurant that brings a wide smile to Danny’s face.

“Okay,” Danny laughs as we head into the relatively empty branch of Hooters. “NOW I get it.”

“Only Hooters in Britain,” Mikey explains. “Not that it’s the ONLY reason I went to uni here, but we did have a lot of fun nights, didn’t we, Stu?”

“Ah, loads,” I laugh. “Seemed like we were in here every other week in our second year.”

“Who was that guy whose stag started here?” Mikey asks as we take our seat. “Dean something?”

“Dean Marshall,” I say. “And that was our first year, Easter holiday, I think.”

“Thought ‘spring break’ wasn’t as big a deal for Brits as it is for Yanks?” Paul asks.

“The stag didn’t last the whole three weeks!” Mikey laughs as I remember back to the extravagant party that was thrown over nine years ago.

It had only been nine months since I’d had my bilateral mastectomy, and I was still extremely self-conscious about being ‘Stuart’. Sure, I had a flat chest, but I was still internally female, and more to the point, I was only nineteen years old and isolated from my family in a town that was still largely unfamiliar to me. What I had going in my favour, however, were several amazing friends who saw me as a true ‘mate’, and more importantly, as just another one of the boys.

The stag party didn’t stay at Hooters, of course, just as Keith’s ‘stag party’ isn’t. After several filling bowls of nachos and chicken wings, not to mention (for everyone except designated driver Jonathan) several pints of lager, the eight of us stagger back to the ‘guymobile’, where the alcohol has made the atmosphere inside the bus a lot looser- not to mention a lot less politically correct.

“Can you… Hang a brick from it?” Danny asks, making me roll my eyes.

“No,” I sigh.

“Can you… Hang a grapefruit from it?” Paul asks with an evil chuckle.

“I doubt it,” I say.

“Can you… hang a can of coke from it?” Keith asks. “Full, obviously.”

“I’ve really never tried,” I say, making Keith laugh. “Seriously, what’s with this obsession with my cock? I mean, a few beers and you all turn gay?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dan says. “Is it ‘gay’ to take an interest in our friend?”

“And if I asked you about any of your cocks?” I ask.

“Gay!” The seven men all yell, making me roll my eyes as they nearly double over laughing.

“Ah, you sons of bitches,” I sigh. “Where’s our overnight stop?”

“Cockermouth,” Jonathan says, making the entire guymobile double over again. “Nah, seriously, it’s in Leeds. We’ll be there in about half an hour. Then the drinking can REALLY get started!” I force myself to cheer along with the rest of the minibus, even though between the alcohol I’ve already consumed, Jon’s questionable driving skills and the far too close proximity to the other guys, the last thing I need is more alcohol.

Nonetheless, after we’ve checked into our hotel rooms and changed into the smart trousers and shirts that make up our clubbing gear (and I laugh at the fact that Jamie would’ve barely started to get ready by the time I leave the hotel room with Mikey, Riley and Danny), the eight of us head to the nearest club, where we spend the rest of the night immersed in a haze of drinking and partying, a haze that gets more and more blurred as the night draws on…

“Stu…” I hear a soft, masculine voice whisper in my ear. “Stu, come on, wake up…” I open my eyes, only to immediately regret it as the sun assaults my vision. It takes several seconds and several blinks before I realise that the bright light isn’t actually the sun, but rather the flash of a smartphone’s camera, which is pointed straight at my face.

“Wh- what?” I moan, my head pounding.

"Wake up, Stu!" The voice- which belongs to Riley- laughs as I wake up to discover that a kind of net curtain has been draped in front of my face.

"We figured that even though you didn't get married," Mikey's clearly hungover voice laughs, "we still owed you a stag as well!"

"Wh- what?" I ask, reaching for the net curtain only to discover it's a bridal veil, which has been pinned to my hair. "...Are you FUCKING kidding me?"

"Told you the veil was crossing a line," Danny snorts. "Should've left it at just the make-up."

"Just- just the make-" My eyes go wide as I rip the veil from my head- taking a couple of hairs with it- and rush into the bathroom to stare at my face in the mirror- which, despite Danny's statement, is devoid of make-up. It's only after sighing at my 'friends' raucous laughter at my panic that I realise that my face is also now devoid of eyebrows- much as Dean Marshall's face was, the morning after his own stag night.

Tentatively, I reach a hand into my trousers. Normally, I'd trust the guys not to cross this particular line, but if they're taking off eyebrows...

I have a moment of panic as I only discover the stem of my penis- and the scar tissue around where the stitches went- in my boxer shorts, but a quick look downward reveals the rest of my organ poking out of my fly like a sad, dead chicken neck. After 'putting myself away', I zip myself up and head back into the room, where my three friends are staring at me with looks of utter glee on their faces.

"I fucking hate all you cunts," I sigh, earning cheers from my friends. "When exactly did I pass out?"

"About 1am," Mikey laughs. "You were gone. I mean, literally, unconscious. Actually thought I might have to call an ambulance for you at one point."

"It was pretty impressive, though," Danny says. "You literally kept drinking right up until you went, and- this is gonna sound insensitive..."

"More insensitive than putting a fucking wedding veil on me?" I ask.

"...You literally didn't drop the 'mask' all night," Danny says. "Literally, you were just one of the guys, the drunker you got, the more, you know, laddish you got."

"There is no 'mask'," I say. "There's just me."

"Sorry, sorry," Danny sighs. "I guess- you know, everything that's happened with Steph- gah. Got a lot to learn about being friends with a transgendered person..."

"It's simple," Riley shrugs. "Treat him like one of the guys, or in the case of your sister, treat her like another one of the girls."

"It really isn't any more complicated than that," Mikey laughs. "Which means on their stag, you prank the living shit out of them!"

"You do know," I reply, "on your stag, I'm tying your hair to the bed and sounding the fire alarm, right?"

"I would expect nothing less," Mikey laughs. "Just wait until we get to your REAL stag. If you thought the veil was bad..."

"It's more the eyebrows and my cock I'm worried about," I say.

"Oh, the cock was all you," Mikey laughs as he brings up a video on his phone- a video that shows me drunkenly stumbling to the toilet, loudly urinating and vomiting, before passing out on my bed again, my penis hanging loosely out of my fly.

"None of us were gonna touch it," Danny explains.

"No, you were just gonna fucking video it," I sigh. "I hope Keith got the same treatment?"

"We're about to find out," Mikey laughs. "Us three have got a bet with Jon, Dan and Paul to see who can get their 'stag' the most fucked. And..." I grin as Mikey's face falls.

"We lost?" Riley asks.

"Hugely," Mikey sighs, showing all of us the photo on his phone- a photo of an unconscious Keith wearing nothing but an adult diaper. His chest hair has had the outline of a cock and balls shaved into it, and the hair on his head has been dyed a bright blue colour.

Of course, I laugh at the phone, but my feelings are deeply conflicted- and not just because of the hangover. On the one hand, I'm flattered that my friends respect me enough not to prank me to the ridiculous extent that the other lads have done to Keith, but on the other hand, it shows that they're still 'careful' around me, not wanting to cross any lines, not truly treating me as one of the boys despite Riley's words.

And then, there's a part of me that finds the whole stag night tradition of pranking the groom to be as utterly stupid and juvenile, and wishes he was back at home, snuggled up on the sofa with Jamie and picking out colours for our wedding invitation...

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Just gone nine," Riley says. "Why, got somewhere better you'd rather be?"

"Other than Edinburgh, no," I say, though as the four of us head down to breakfast and meet the other four boys (including a furious-looking Keith, who's covering his hair with a flat cap), I can't shake from my mind the image of the six girls sat around the pool, and the question: what if?

It's a question I often ask myself- more often than is probably healthy for me. What if I hadn't had the courage to become Stuart, what if I had remained as Claire? What if I'd been laid at the pool yesterday wearing either a bikini or a one-piece swimsuit, my body unaltered from how it had been at birth? Obviously, such a scenario is unlikely- 'Claire' was never all that good looking and certainly wouldn't have been an Angel, but 'she' would've been a woman and would've been included in all the gossip, all the chat, and wouldn't have been videoed drunkenly stumbling around a room with 'her' penis sticking out.

But then again, 'she' would've been judged for every tiny imperfection in her appearance, every gram she'd put on over a certain weight, she'd be mocked behind her back for everything she said that didn't conform to a certain way of thinking.

That's not to say, of course, that men aren't subject to the same scrutiny, or that women don't play pranks- even ones as vicious as the pranks played on myself and Keith- to each other. Being a woman is hard, but being a man isn't exactly a picnic either. And yet, if I was forced to choose again... I'd make the same choice I made ten years ago. Life as a woman, with all its trappings, is something I simply couldn't conform to in any way, shape or form.

However, as I climb back into the guymobile, complete with its 'powerful' odour, I find myself wishing that I didn't have to conform to EVERY trapping of male life, that I could just be Stuart- but on my own terms, not Dan's, not Jonathan's or Keith's. I love being a man. Being a 'lad', on the other hand...

On Keith's insistence, the eight of us stop off at a clothing store to pick up flat caps that match the one worn by the now turquoise-haired man, and after uploading a photo of the eight of us to Facebook (which my fiancée charmingly captions 'Last of the Summer Wine cast reunion') we get back on the road, heading north (thankfully without any further delays) until we reach Edinburgh.

As Mikey promised, the festival is amazing- we spend the whole day going from one show (usually music or comedy) to another, occasionally stopping to enjoy the scenery of the city. It's easy to see why Edinburgh has regularly been voted the most beautiful city in the UK, and the limited amount of time we have in the city isn't nearly enough to see all of its sights, especially during this busiest time of the year.

As the afternoon wears on to evening and eventually night, I'm reminded of just why I'm friends with this group of guys, and that there really isn't anyone else I would rather have gone on this trip with. Sure, we got brutally drunk, played some cruel pranks on each other and probably condemned our minibus to the scrapyard with the amount of sweat we poured into it, but as I climb into bed in my cramped hotel room, it's all I can do not to tell the other guys how much I love them.

But doing that would be unmanly- and I am a man. I Am a man. If I ever need reminding, all I need do is reach down into my pants to check...

"Wakey wakey, hands off snakey!" Mikey quietly laughs, gently whacking me in the chest with a Gideon's Bible.

"Yes, yes, I'm awake," I sigh. "Is it Saturday already?"

"Yeah, though keep your voice down," Mikey urges. "Riley's still asleep."

"So wake him up then," I moan. "We've only got a couple of hours before we have to be on the road again."

"Yeah... First, though," Mikey whispers as Danny returns to our room with a can of orange spray-on hair dye, a tartan-coloured beret and a fake ginger beard.

"Oh, you evil, immature sons of bitches," I sigh as Mikey and Danny approach the still-slumbering Riley. "I love it. Let me get my phone, I'll video it..."

"Riley..." I whisper twenty minutes later, after Mikey and Danny have had the chance to carry out their 'work'. "Riley, it's time to wake up..."

"We've got you a graduation gift," Mikey says as Riley slowly stirs. "You did graduate this summer, didn't you?"

"Yeah..." Riley moans as he gets up and pads toward the room's en-suite. "Where is this gif- YOU FUCKS!" Danny, Mikey and I all double over laughing as Riley, his bright orange hair, his fake beard and his beret come charging back out of the en-suite with a look of pure fury on his face.

"I fucking owed you for videoing me with my cock hanging out," I tell Riley as he hurls the cap and the beard at us, before jumping underneath the shower in an attempt to wash out the dye.

A few hours later- after more sightseeing- the eight of us pile back into the 'guymobile' for our long drive back home. Rather than the 'grand tour' we'd taken on the drive up, we simply head down the A1 to get home, though this still takes almost eight hours, and when Keith and I stagger through the front door of Charlotte's house just after 9pm, all we want to do is sleep for a week. However, we both immediately perk up when our other halves- sorry, our BETTER halves- emerge from the kitchen and greet us with long, tight hugs.

"You men are the most stupid, immature arseholes ever created," Charlotte sighs as she strokes Keith's slowly-fading dye job.

"You missed us really though, didn't you?" Keith asks smugly.

"Maybe," Charlotte says with an equally smug smile. "Come upstairs and I'll show you how much I missed you..."

"And of course," Jamie giggles after the other couple have vanished, "I missed you too."

"I missed you as well," I sigh, giving Jamie a long kiss on her soft lips.

"And I'm glad you're back in 'one piece'," Jamie whispers, giving my crotch a playful squeeze. "Though after that photo in Leeds, I'm kinda disappointed I didn't get to see any photos of you in a kilt... And don't say that kilts are skirts, because you know better than that."

"If you want to see my legs, all you need to do is ask," I giggle. "In all seriousness, though... I really did miss you the last few days. And I don't just mean the 'obvious parts' of you, I mean... You."

"Aww, you big softy!" Jamie giggles, before giving me yet another kiss. "Thought that 72 straight hours of non-stop male company might've ruined more than just your smell, heh."

"'Ruined'?" I ask.

"You know," Jamie says. "Turned you into a lad, a lager lout, that sort of thing..."

"Never," I say proudly. "I am a man. But I refuse to be a stereotype."

"Good," Jamie says proudly. "Though I take it you won't mind if I keep being a mostly stereotypical girl?" I smile widely, before giving Jamie a long, deep kiss that she eagerly reciprocates.

"Does that answer your question?" I ask, only to receive my own answer when Jamie reaches a hand down past the waistband of my trousers and slowly leads me upstairs to her bedroom, where we're soon freed of all our clothes...

Yeah, I may not be a stereotypical man. I may be skinnier and shorter than the rest of the guys, I may be less interested in football and boxing, and I'll obviously never be able to escape my past as 'Claire'. But you know what? I'm okay with that. I don't need any of that to be a man, I just need to live my life the way I want to be happy, and if that makes me less manly than I'm 'supposed' to be, then so what? I shouldn't have to live my life by other people's standards, even if those people are my friends. As long as I'm true to myself, then that's all that matters. Jamie loves me for who I am, and if my friends are true, they'll still be my friends.

I AM a man. But most importantly of all... I'm the man I always wanted to be.

It's said that every step you take in your life leads up to one moment, one defining point of your life that you can look back on and say 'this is who I am, this is my contribution to the world'. If this is the case... Then it's a very strange set of steps that led me to where I am today.

“God, I don’t know why I’M so nervous,” I mumble as I fidget in my seat. “It’s not like I’m going to be the one dancing up there…”

“You wouldn’t really suit a tutu anyway,” Jamie retorts, giggling as I roll my eyes at her. “Sorry… Know that’s still kinda a sensitive subject for you. Even fifteen months later…”

“Heh, doesn’t feel like fifteen months,” I laugh as I fidget, trying to get my ‘self’ comfortable underneath my boxer shorts and my starchy trousers. Jamie, of course, is the picture of coolness and elegance in her long, smooth evening dress. Her hair, nails and make-up are immaculate, and she’s wearing her best jewellery. A perfect look for a perfectly beautiful woman spending a night at the ballet.

“And stop fidgeting,” Jamie chastises me. “Do you want everyone to think you’re playing with yourself throughout the whole performance? You’ve had fifteen months to decide which side you want to dress on…”

“Yeah, and twenty-five years of never having had that problem,” I retort, making Jamie roll her eyes again as I finally ‘settle’ myself. “Why is it that the gender WITH dangly bits has to keep them tucked up under trousers, while the gender without them can ‘hang free’ under skirts and dresses? Actually, no, don’t answer that question, I know what you’ll say.”

“You probably wouldn’t fit in any of my skirts or dresses anyway,” Jamie teases me as she gives my thigh a sly squeeze. “And try to enjoy tonight, okay? I know you’d rather be at home shooting aliens or something, but one night at the ballet isn’t going to kill you.”

“Yes yes,” I laugh. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually looking forward to it. I DID write some of the music, remember?”

“Aww,” Jamie giggles. “My ultra-talented, ultra-sensitive fiancé!”

“Your super-sexy fiancé,” I correct Jamie.

“My super-shallow fiancé!” Jamie says, sticking her tongue out at me as the theatre slowly fills.

“Says the model who’s also the star of a reality TV show,” I say, giggling as Jamie smacks me on the head with the program of tonight’s events. Before we have the chance to ‘argue’ further, the theatre lights dim, and everyone applauds as Krystie and Zoe- the choreographers of tonight’s performance- appear on stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Krystie says with a proud grin.

“Madames et monsieurs,” Zoe says, earning a giggle from those who know that French is her native language.

“Tonight, we are proud to present to you, the tale of the sixty-third butterfly,” Krystie says.

“Le Soixante-Troisieme Papillon,” Zoe announces as the stage lights dim and the first dancers take their place on stage.

The performance lasts just over an hour, by the end of which most of the women in the theatre- and many of the men- have been moved to tears, both by the music and by the beautiful dancing from the girls on the stage, some of whom are as young as fourteen. All throughout the performance, however, I can’t help but remember the time almost twenty years ago when I was brought to a theatre like this- only back then, I certainly wasn’t wearing a smart suit and a tie.

“I feel silly,” the seven year old me moaned as I fiddled with my tight, itchy orange leotard.

“You won’t be any different from any of the other girls out there,” mum said, before fixing a large cardboard carrot to my body. “And you’ll have fun, won’t she, Emma?”

“Yeah,” my then nine year old sister said as she danced around in her own carrot costume. “Every girl loves dancing, Claire.”

“Well I don’t,” I pouted.

“Well now’s the time to learn to love it,” mum said sternly as she fussed with my shoulder-length brown hair, before sending me off to stand with the other girls. “And don’t be afraid! All the other girls will be just like you, and you’ll fit in perfectly with them.”

Naturally, I was afraid, and I DIDN’T have fun that night, dancing on stage in front of the entire school. All throughout the dance, I couldn’t help but be distracted by the older boys waiting by the side of the stage for their performance. Obviously, they weren’t wearing a pair of tights, a leotard and a silly cardboard carrot- they were dressed as the Backstreet Boys, and even back then, I would’ve given anything just to be able to dance with them, or just to be one of them. Of course, that dream wouldn’t come true for a long, long time.

…Almost two decades, in fact, as I’m reminded when I grab a bouquet of flowers from a nearby table and line up behind my friends, all of whom are dressed identically to me. We hand our bouquets to all the solo dancers who performed tonight- I hand mine to a young Indian girl who danced to my composition- before exiting the stage and letting the ballerinas take the applause they deserve.

“You know,” Mikey says as we head to the bar, “I actually enjoyed that more than I thought I would.”

“Same here,” Jonathan says as he stretches his stocky 6’ 3” frame. “Wouldn’t go EVERY night, but it’s nice for a change.”

“But bar now?” I ask.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Keith laughs, but we barely get twenty feet down the corridor before we’re stopped by a loud, familiar call.

“Oi!” The familiar sound of an angry Krystie Fullerton yells, stopping all of us in our tracks. “Back here, now.” I’m forced to suppress a giggle as my friends and I, with our heads held low, follow our womenfolk back to the stage, where a gaggle of photographers are waiting to capture ours and the ballerinas’ images.

“…You were heading to the bar, weren’t you?” My fiancée asks, her arms folded and a stern glare on her face.

“I’d have got you a drink if you asked for one,” I mumble, making Jamie roll her eyes and giggle.

“I’m not thirsty,” Jamie retorts, before smiling a professional smile as I join her in front of the cameras.

We don’t leave the theatre until after 10:30pm, by which point I’m so exhausted that all I want to do when I get home is sleep- though it’s not ALL I want to do. Fifteen months ago, I had the operation that surgically grafted a penis onto my body, and whilst that was the culmination of a lifelong ambition, it wasn’t the end of my journey- not by a long shot. For months it was just a lump of flesh hanging between my legs. Then, months later, it became a channel for my urine. And then, a few months ago, I had what should be my final operation- the addition of a special implant to make me possible or attaining an erection. In the weeks since then, as it’s healed and grown strong, I’ve been looking forward more and more to the day when I can finally make love to my fiancée for the first time- and I know that Jamie has been eagerly awaiting that day as well.

More than anyone else, Jamie should know that something like this can’t be rushed. In the months immediately following her SRS- around the same time we first got together- her ‘area’ was so sensitive that she expressed doubt that she’d ever be able to ‘use’ it in the way she wants to ‘use’ my new genitals. She even found it uncomfortable to wear underwear at times. And yet earlier today, two and a half years after her operation, she squeezed her body into her tightest leotard and spent an hour doing splits and stretches in our friend’s ballet studio.

My doctors have assured me that my penis is physically ready. I just need to know that the rest of me is ready, isn't too afraid to take the plunge…

“Stewie…” I hear a soft voice gently coo in my ear, waking me from my slumber. “Stewie… Time to get up…”

“Mmph,” I grunt, before sighing happily as Jamie snakes one of her slender arms around my waist.

“If you don’t get up in the next fifteen minutes,” Jamie whispers, “I’ll ask your mother for that photograph of you dressed like a carrot…”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I retort. “It’s too cold to get up…”

“Want me to warm you up?” Jamie asks, giggling as I smile.

“Your hands are cold,” I complain.

“My mouth isn’t,” Jamie whispers, before ducking her head underneath the bedsheets…

"Oh god," I gasp as Jamie's talented tongue 'massages' me to an explosive climax that leaves me sweating, even in the cold December air...

I stretch my tired muscles as I emerge from Jamie’s en-suite, trying not to shiver too much before pulling on the smart, designer jeans and sweatshirt I’ll be wearing today.

“Really?” Jamie asks as she applies her make-up. “THAT sweater?”

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask. “It’s warm…”

“It’s also got threads and stitches sticking out all over the place,” Jamie complains. “They’re going to be filming in HD. Choose a newer jumper.”

“…Yes, ma’am,” I say with a sigh as I swap my comfortable sweater for a thinner, but better-looking one. “My fault, I should’ve known what I was getting into when I married a supermodel…”

“And while you’re at it, you can swap those jeans for a skinnier pair, show off that butt of yours a bit!” Jamie giggles, laughing even louder as I roll my eyes at her.

“I really can’t,” I say, shaking my legs to get my ‘self’ comfortable.

"I spent three years 'tucked up' underneath a latex thong, but if you insist," Jamie retorts, before giggling. "...This is a weird relationship, isn't it? Neither of us can argue that the other doesn't know what it's like for the other gender..."

"If by 'weird' you mean 'perfect', then I agree entirely," I say, giving Jamie a gentle kiss on her bare neck, an action that makes her sigh happily.

"Of course," Jamie giggles. "I'm glad you're comfortable with the whole recording thing, I know you were almost relieved when ITV2 cancelled The Angels. And then we got renewed on Amazon Prime..."

"Meh, just means thousands of guys get to be jealous of me," I say, making Jamie giggle. "And besides, I like the new arrangement... We've both got new friends to play with."

"Very true," Jamie says with a smile, before pulling on her outfit for the day.

An hour later, Jamie and I are sat at a table in a posh restaurant, trying our best not to acknowledge the camera crew nearby. Opposite us are two new friends we've only known a few months, but have already made a fairly big impact in our lives. One is the newest member of the Angels, an oriental- and, perhaps more importantly, transgendered- girl named Kelly, whilst the other is a short, ginger-haired Canadian man named Kurt... Who also happens to be transgendered.

"So," I say, trying to provide entertaining conversation for the TV cameras. "Kurt, you planning on going home for Christmas?"

"Um, hopefully," Kurt replies in his soft- yet still masculine- voice. "Winnipeg's REALLY cold in winter, though, not sure I want to inflict that on Kelly when we've only been going out a few months, heh."

"Especially since I 'swapped sides'," Kelly says in her soft, yet very feminine voice. "I am SUPER sensitive to cold since I started taking oestrogen."

“One of many reasons I love testosterone,” Kurt laughs. “Little secret is that it doesn’t turn you into a man, it turns you into a walrus, heh.”

“If either of you two stick breadsticks in your mouth, we’re breaking up with you,” Jamie says, making Kurt and I chuckle as the two women continue to dominate the conversation.

As we leave the café, after the cameras have long since been turned off, I finally get the chance to talk to my fellow transman man-to-man, as I’d wanted ever since setting foot in the café.

“So,” Kurt asks, “how many people d’you reckon checked out our table and didn’t realise that me and you were XX, but the girls were XY?”

“Gotta be some,” I shrug. “I reckon a lot of them will have recognised Jamie, though. Heh, get used to that- Kelly’s gonna be just as famous a few months from now!”

“Meh, I don’t mind,” Kurt shrugs. “You- you never found that, you know, living in Jamie’s shadow…”

“…That it somehow emasculated me?” I ask. “Not really. I mean, I had sixteen years of being quote-unquote emasculated… Guess you of all people can appreciate that.”

“Ugh, and how,” Kurt sighs. “My mom still has my prom dress back at home, reckon a part of her still thinks I’m gonna end up wearing it again someday…”

“Yeah, it’d go well with your chest hair,” I say, making Kurt snort with laughter. “For obvious reasons, my parents let go of that delusion a LONG time ago. Before I was forced to attend a prom, fortunately.”

“Lucky you,” Kurt sighs. “And in more than one way, too. Wish I was as brave as you, going under the knife… Haven’t even had my mastectomy yet.”

“You should get it done as soon as you can,” I say, trying not to blush at the hypocrisy of what I’m about to say. “There really is no need to be afraid…”

“…There really is no need to be afraid,” mum whispered as she sat with me in the cold, sterile waiting room. “I know it’s not pleasant, but it’ll only hurt for a few seconds.”

“I know,” I whispered as I tried not to fidget in my itchy red tights and stiff grey pinafore dress.

“And besides,” mum said, “Becca’s going to be having it done too, and you’re not scared, are you, Becca?” I tried to smile as the five year old girl- who was wearing a uniform identical to mine- giggled at me.

Fifteen minutes afterward, though, both of us were blinking back tears as we emerged from the doctor’s office with plasters on our upper arms and a brand-new vaccine flowing through our veins. Well, I was blinking back tears- Becca was howling like a baby.

Obviously, I’ve had loads of injections since then, not to mention blood drains, catheters, and the small matter of the removal of both my breasts and my entire reproductive organs. I’ve had skin cut away from underneath my arm and grafted onto my groin… And every time I’ve gone under the knife, I’ve been terrified of what might happen if something goes wrong. Hell, I was nervous merely getting my flu jab last month. I try to remind myself that I’m a man, a man who is supposed to be tough, strong, not afraid of needles, but sometimes, I find myself just as scared as I was when I was a little girl, just as desperately in need of someone to tell me that it’ll be alright, that I needn’t be afraid.

My friends, however, definitely aren’t the best people to ask for reassurance, as close as we may be. Whilst Kurt and I were able to talk about ‘sensitive’ topics one-on-one, in a large group, any sensitive talk just isn’t going to happen- and the traditional Friday night gaming session is easily the largest group of men I find myself in on a regular basis, especially as the group has expanded to include Kurt and a guy named Marco, who goes out with one of the singers in Becca’s band.

“Now THIS is a bit more like it,” Dan laughs as he relaxes on the sofa with a videogame controller in his hands.

“Newsflash: Physical trainer values playing videogames over physical activity,” Mikey laughs, earning a playful shove from Dan. “And don’t argue that ballet isn’t physical activity. Take it from someone who knows- Krystie WILL rip your balls off. Oh, umm… Sorry, Kurt and Stu…”

“Don’t worry about it,” I shrug.

“It’s fine,” Kurt says. “And don’t worry, I agree with you about ballet being really physical.”

“Umm…” Dan asks hesitantly. “Did- did you- back in Canada, I mean, when you-“

“No,” Kurt says with a wicked smile, making Dan roll his eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. “After Kelly’s first lesson last months she was REALLY slippery, I mean, with sweat… It was a bit like trying to hug a water balloon.”

“Did you know that half of the girls we saw last night were sexually active long before they reached sixteen?” Mikey asks. “Krystie didn’t name any names, obviously, but she was moaning last night about how it made her feel old, she’s taught some of the girls since they were eleven, now some of them are taller than her, some are sexually active…”

“It ain’t right,” Dan scoffs. “Anyone touches either of my girls before they’re sixteen, they are DEAD.”

“…Want me to get your pipe and slippers, dad?” Jonathan teases the tall man, who sighs in response.

“You can talk,” Dan snorts. “You’re about to have a baby girl too!”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna be a cool dad,” Jonathan says smugly.

“And if any boy touches your daughter before she’s sixteen?” Dan asks, snorting with laughter as Jonathan sighs.

“…I’ll break both their arms,” Jonathan concedes, to the amusement of the entire room. “Okay, maybe not THAT cool… God knows I had to be ‘the heavy’ a lot when I was growing up, you know, for Addie… Eh, kinda still am, aren’t I, Marco?” The whole room lets out another collective chuckle as the dark-haired boy nervously laughs at Jonathan’s teasing.

“Same here, right, Riley?” I tease my sister’s boyfriend.

“You wish,” the tall blond boy retorts with a snort.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Mikey chants, earning shoves from both myself and Riley.

“Nah,” I chuckle. “If Becca has to shack up with someone, better him than some random perv.”

“’Shack up’?” Keith asks. “You and Becca moving in together, Rile?”

“..We’ve been looking at places,” Riley said, earning pats on the back from the other boys. “Not found anywhere yet, but still, we’re both 21, can’t live with ‘mummy and daddy’ forever.”

“Don’t feel too pressured, mate,” Keith says. “Just ‘cause Nikki and Sarah moved in together last week doesn’t mean you should rush to find a place.”

“Seriously, mate,” I say. “And I’m not just saying this because it’s my little sister, I still technically live at home and I’m 26! Will probably be the last of my siblings to leave home… Just like I’m the last to do other things.”

“…Mate, I seriously hope you’re NOT whinging about your sex life!” Mikey laughs.

“Sorry, sorry, know it’s not appropriate for games night,” I sigh.

“Especially not if you’re telling us that your sister, who’s five years younger than you, lost her virginity before you!” Keith laughs. “Again, no offence, Riley.”

“Can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Riley says sarcastically.

“…Mate,” Mikey says, having clearly realised something. “You had girlfriends at university, in your first year too… Are you seriously telling me you never got off with any of them?”

“…Never had anything to get off with,” I sigh, before cringing as the entire room- even Kurt- jeers me.

“Oh bollocks,” Dan snorts. “That’s seriously the worst excuse ever.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that my new equipment is still in ‘mint condition’,” I say.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you were at it like a fucking rabbit at university,” Mikey laughs. “Just ‘cause you’ve had an ‘upgrade’, doesn’t mean your ‘score’ goes back to zero.”

“And it’d make me a virgin too, technically,” Kurt says. “So in short: NO.”

“Mate,” Jonathan laughs as my cheeks get redder and redder, “you’re the only man in the world to have slept with three of the Angels. When it comes to bragging rights, you’re set for life!”

“…If you say so,” I shrug. “I just… Gah. Sorry, my bad for bringing it up.”

“Wahey!” Everyone cheers, making me roll my eyes and my unintended innuendo.

“For that laugh alone, you can pick the next game,” Keith laughs. “And I’ll get the instruments ready, as the game is inevitably going to be…”

“Rock Band 4,” I say, laughing at the groans of all my friends. “You asked for it, you get it. Stop whinging, start playing.” I laugh as a plastic guitar is handed to me and I pretend to tune it, whilst Keith sets up the (plastic) drum kit and microphone stand.

I’ll never be able to talk about my feelings with the guys, not like I can talk about them with, say, Jamie or even Becca. We’ll tell each other off-colour jokes, mercilessly tease each other, even play-fight with each other. The more guys are around, the more loutish we become… But I don’t need to be afraid.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” dad urged as he all but dragged me to my friend’s house. Well, I say ‘friend’, but ‘classmate’ would be a more appropriate term. It was her eleventh birthday party, and she’d invited all the girls in her class- and like it or not, that included me.

“I’m not afraid,” I pouted.

“Good,” dad said. “Because you need to spend more time with other girls. It’s not good for you to spend all your free time sat in front of your PlayStation.”

“I know,” I mumbled, even as I tried not to fidget in my party dress.

"And try not to ruin that dress," dad chastised. "It cost good money."

"Yes, dad," I mumbled as I was dropped off at the 'friend's house.

I spent the next three hours lost in the middle of a group of girls I barely knew and liked even less. We made jewellery, played with make-up and made up dance routines. And I hated every second of it. When I got home, I was all I could do not to immediately rush up to my bedroom, strip off my dress and immerse myself in my PlayStation for the rest of the night, desperately trying to forget about the party- and the fact that I was just 'one of the girls'.

“Ahhhhh!” Mikey yells at the end of the song, before playfully smacking his guitar on the back of my head, hard enough to shock me but nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

Yeah… The friends I have now? I wouldn't trade them for anything.

The guys only stick around until 10:30pm, at which point they all (with the obvious exceptions of myself and Keith) head home to their respective partners and families, whilst Keith and I head to our respective beds. I’m still awake a short while later, when my fiancée arrives back from her night out and wastes no time in removing her shoes, clothes and jewellery before climbing into bed next to me and wrapping her arms around my waist.

“…Pissed?” I ask, making Jamie giggle. “Well, THAT answers my question…”

“No, I’m not ‘pissed’,” Jamie sighs. “Only had a few drinks, don’t want to be too hungover for your folks tomorrow. And as I’m not COMPLETELY wasted…” I smile as Jamie lowers her hands from her waist toward a different part of my anatomy, making me shiver with excitement.

“Soon, I promise,” I whisper as I roll over in bed and give Jamie a long, tender kiss.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jamie whispers, reciprocating my kiss before rolling over and quickly falling into a deep sleep. Whilst I believe that she genuinely is willing to wait as long as it takes for me to be ready, it’s not hard to tell that she’s really disappointed by my reluctance to go ‘all the way’ with her- and in truth, I’m disappointed too. I know I shouldn’t be nervous, I shouldn’t be afraid, and my friends clearly all think so too- but this is a big, important step. In a very real way, it’ll be my final step toward manhood…

I let out a long, quiet yawn as my alarm wakes me, before smirking when I roll over to see that my fiancée is still asleep, despite the noise coming from my phone.

“Jamie…” I coo softly into Jamie’s ear. “Jamie… Time to get up…”

“Ugh,” Jamie spits, waking up with a pained expression on her face.

“Thought you said you didn’t drink that much last night?” I tease, giggling as Jamie sticks her tongue out at me.

“Give me a break, I’m still only eight stone, I get pissed easier than you- you MEN,” Jamie retorts.

“You know I take that word as a compliment,” I laugh.

“…I know,” Jamie says, smiling for the first time since waking up and giving me a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m having the shower first!” I laugh as Jamie- despite her hangover- elegantly skips over to her en-suite, emerging a few minutes later with a big, fluffy towel wrapped around her chest and another wrapped around her long, sandy blonde hair.

By the time I’ve emerged from the shower- with my towel being used to dry my hair, and the rest of me left ‘all out in the open’, Jamie has already finished applying her make-up and is busy sliding her body into a delicately-patterned bodysuit with a thong back, that seems to tease me as it disappears between her buttocks. Jamie takes her time pulling on her tights, caressing her legs over and over again to ensure they're perfectly smooth, before pulling on a short, figure-hugging (but not skintight) long-sleeved dress that perfectly shows off all of her beautiful curves.

“You know,” Jamie giggles as she brushes her hair, “it’s normally taking clothes OFF that turns men on. Unless, of course, it’s the clothes that you’re fantasising about, rather than my body…”

“Piss off,” I retort, making my fiancée giggle even more. “It- it just reminds me how unflinchingly feminine you really are.”

“And you know I take THAT as a compliment, right?” Jamie asks.

“Good,” I say, giving my fiancée a sneaky kiss and her bum a sneaky squeeze before pulling on a smart pair of trousers and a long-sleeved button-up shirt. I’m forced to laugh as I lace up my smart black shoes- I’m all dressed and ready to go, but Jamie still hasn’t finished putting on her jewellery or picked out a pair of shoes to wear today. Naturally, when I point this out to her, it results in a pillow being thrown at my head!

A few hours later- after Jamie has finally finished getting ready- the two of us find ourselves pulling onto the driveway of the big, posh house in which I grew up. The house in which I was inducted into the world of femininity, whether I lied it or not… And there were some moments that make me shiver even now.

“Emma!” I hissed, trying not to panic as I knocked on her bedroom door. “Emma! Oh god, please! Emma!”

“What’s up?” My then-fifteen year old sister sighed as she opened her door.

“I- I need help,” I mumbled in a quiet, tiny voice as I fidgeted from side to side.

“…With what?” Emma asked. “Homework? Music practice? Don’t tell me you’ve finally got a boyfriend…”

“No!” I snapped, before grimacing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I- I’ve kinda… Had a bit of a, um, thing…”

“Oh,” Emma gasped, her eyes going as wide as dinner plates. “Oh god, umm, okay, let’s- let’s get you to the bathroom.” Blinking back tears, I followed my sister to the house’s posh bathroom, where, with a face full of shame, I lowered my jeans to show Emma my panties- and the big red stain in the middle of them.

"I- I need-" I stammered as Emma reached into a nearby drawer and handed me one of her sanitary pads.

"You need to calm down," Emma said softly. "Take several deep breaths. Get your panties and your jeans in the wash. Don't worry about mum- she won't say anything. Believe me... It's nothing she hasn't had to deal with before. Do you want me to get your panties from your room?"

"Please," I whispered. Seconds later, Emma returned with a clean pair of underwear, and after showing me how to insert the sanitary pad, I slid the underwear up my legs, before grimacing as Emma handed me one of her loose, short skirts.

"You'll want something comfortable, that doesn't dig around the waist," Emma explained. "This skirt is PERFECT. And this is experience talking!"

"Okay," I said, before breaking down into a flood of tears once the skirt was hanging from my waist.

“It’s okay, Claire,” Emma said, giving me a gentle hug to calm me down. “It happens to every girl at some point in their life. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s most definitely something that you shouldn’t be afraid of, alright?”

“Alright,” I replied, trying to smile despite the extreme discomfort I was in.

“And you never know,” Emma chuckled. “Maybe some good will come out of this, and you’ll get over this ‘tomboy’ thing you’ve got going on right now!”

“Yeah,” I laughed, though even then- at the age of thirteen- I was beginning to discover the truth about myself.

The more I immersed myself in femininity- and there were times when I tried to enjoy it, tried to ‘conform’ to what was expected of me- the more I knew that it- or rather, I- wasn’t ‘right’. That I could never be the daughter that my parents wanted, or the little sister that Emma wanted. Every time I bled, it was like my body was attacking me, forcing me into a situation I simply wasn’t able to tolerate. When it finally stopped, after eight months on testosterone, it was like I was finally free, like I could finally start being the person I always wanted to be… Like I could finally stop being afraid.

Of course, a few months after my last ‘time’, it was Becca’s turn to ‘enter womanhood for the first time’, and with Emma at university, it was down to me to act as ‘big sister’, even though it was a title I’d long since abandoned. For months after Becca’s first ‘time’, I was worried that she’d never speak to me again, but if anything, it brought us closer together as siblings- and the smile on Becca’s face when I open the door confirms that we’ll always be as a close as a brother and sister can be.

“Hi!” Becca squeaks, before coughing loudly and shivering. “Come on, give me a hug…”

“Get rid of that flu and I will!” I laugh, prompting Becca to stick her germ-riddled tongue out at me.

“Didn’t you get a flu shot this year?” Jamie asks, prompting a laugh from me that earns a VERY angry stare from my baby sister.

“Becca and needles… Kinda have a love-hate relationship,” I say, making Becca sigh as she removes her earrings to reveal that they’re clip-ons.

“Try ‘hate-hate’,” Becca croaks, before leading us through to the living room, where I receive a long hug from my other, older sister.

“…You didn’t hug Becca, did you?” Emma asks, making me laugh and Becca groan some more.

“No, and I’m guessing you didn’t either?” I chuckle.

“In my condition?” Emma giggles as she shows off her small (but growing) baby bump. “5 months down, 4 to go…”

“And where are grandma and grandpa?” I tease, laughing as a familiar snort of laughter comes from the kitchen.

“In here, Stuart,” dad says, emerging from the kitchen and giving me a brief, manly hug.

“You two all ready for Christmas yet?” Mum asks as she presents us with hot mugs of tea.

“Almost,” Jamie says with a happy grin. “I know it’s only a couple of weeks away but it’s kinda… Not top priority right now.” I bristle as Jamie talks, before remembering that she probably wouldn’t discuss our sex life with my parents, and we do have a big ‘event’ coming up next year.

“How are wedding preparations coming along?” Mum asks.

“They’re going well,” Jamie says. “I’ve got to admit, though, I AM really nervous…”

“A big TV star getting nervous?” Emma teases.

“Emma, you were petrified on your big day,” mum reminds my sister, making myself and Becca giggle. “All women are, regardless of how famous they are.”

“All men, too,” dad whispers, shooting me a sympathetic smile. “Though you really don’t need to be afraid.”

“You really don’t need to be afraid,” The tall, old music teacher whispered to me as I sat in front of the big, imposing grand piano, the rest of the class looking at me expectantly. “Just remember your practice, you’ve played this piece a million times at home.” I smiled and nodded, and tried to follow the old teacher’s advice of ‘put your whole mind into your hands’- a trick made easier by the fact that my fourteen year old face had been smeared with make-up, and the rest of my body had been wrapped in a smart knee-length dress. Whilst the teacher would undoubtedly be staring at my hands and focussing on what he heard, the rest of the class- most of whom were boys- would be staring at my face, or the fledgling ‘shapes’ on my chest, or my tights-covered legs…

I fought back a shiver at the ‘attention’ I was getting, before playing the complicated classical piece, putting my entire focus in my fingers as I hit every note perfectly- or at the very least, good enough to earn a round of applause from my teacher and a certificate confirming that I’d passed the exam. I still have that certificate, in fact- even if I cringe every time I see the name ‘Claire Olivia Milton’ printed on the front, and every time I remember just how nervous, how afraid I was to get up and play in front of a crowd, no matter how small it was.

“Are- are you going to send an invitation to grandma?” Emma asks, snapping me back to the present.

“…I don’t know,” I whisper. “The last time we spoke to her… Yeah. It’s a difficult one.”

“She will be hurt if you don’t send her an invitation,” mum- grandma’s daughter- says quietly.

“And we’ll probably be hurt by her response,” I whisper.

“She’s still your grandmother,” mum whispers. “You’re still her grandchild.”

“She doesn’t think so,” Becca weakly croaks. “I mean, what’s Stuart supposed to do, cut it off?”

“I think we should change the topic here,” dad says, wincing at the mental image Becca put in his head.

“Agreed,” I whisper as my mind wanders back to the piano exam I passed twelve years ago.

“Wonderful!” Grandma said, a huge smile on her face as she gave me a congratulatory hug. “You were wonderful up there, Claire. Your parents will be SO proud of you. It’s such a pity they couldn’t come to watch…”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged. “Thank you for coming with me, grandma.”

“You don’t need to thank me!” Grandma laughed. “I know it can’t be easy for you, Claire.”

“…Grandma?” I asked, worried that my desire to be male- which was already very strong by that point- had somehow ‘leaked out’.

“Being the middle child,” grandma clarified. “Your father spends his whole time encouraging Emma with her studies, or spoiling your little sister, sometimes I get worried that you get forgotten about.”

“I don’t feel forgotten about,” I replied.

“That’s good,” grandma said. “And if you ever do, just give your old grandma a call, I’ll always be on hand to tell you how special you are!”

“The important thing,” dad says, “is to remember that we will ALWAYS love you, Stuart. If you ever feel down, just give us a call, we’ll always be on hand to remind you of just how special and amazing you are.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, trying my hardest to blink back tears.

As we drive home- or rather, back to Jamie’s- from my parents’ house after a long, happy visit, I twirl my mobile phone around in my fingers. Like so many people, grandma’s love was entirely conditional on me being cisgendered. She was unable to look past her prejudices, even if it meant disowning her own grandchild… And someone like that doesn’t deserve to call themselves a grandparent. When I remember my grandfather- who died almost fifteen years ago- it amazes me how such a cheerful, happy man could have married such an angry, spiteful woman.

Sometimes, I wonder how I would react if I had a child who suddenly announced to me that they were transgendered, just like I had to my parents. I like to think that I’d be open minded and accepting- I’d be a massive hypocrite if I wasn’t, after all- but in truth, if I’d spent sixteen years raising a son, only for them to suddenly announce that they wanted to be my daughter instead… I’d be disappointed. I shouldn’t be, of course, and I know I would love my child unconditionally, as any parent should, but the more I think about it, the more I understand my father’s initial shocked response- and the more I value his and my mother’s continued unconditional love. Should either of Emma’s children turn out to be transgendered, I know they’ll be better grandparents than my own grandmother was.

One thing is certain, though- if I was to raise a child in the future, there’s no one I’d rather raise him or her with than the woman driving us back home. We’ve talked about adopting in the past, and whilst we both accept that we’re not quite ready yet (despite half of our friends becoming parents), when we are, it is something we’ll seriously look into.

“Jamie,” I mumble.

“Stuart…” Jamie replies.

“If- ugh,” I spit. “Hypothetical question…”

“Go on…” Jamie says.

“If we were to adopt a child,” I begin, “and at the age of fifteen or sixteen, they come out as transgender, how would you react?”

“Well, with unconditional love and support, I’d hope,” Jamie says. “And I’d hope that our daughter wouldn’t wait until they were fifteen before telling us that they wanted to be our son instead.”

“…Heh,” I chuckle. “Whenever I think about this, I always think about a boy wanting to be a girl. Weird, that.”

“You think about us raising children a lot?” Jamie asks.

“Not ‘a lot’,” I retort. “But… Yeah. From time to time, I do. I still reckon we’d be good parents.”

“So do I,” Jamie whispers. “It’s just- heh, now THIS will sound silly…”

“Go on…” I say, giggling at Jamie’s uncharacteristic bashfulness.

“Sometimes, I…” Jamie sighs. “I wish I could get pregnant, you know? I mean, I see your sister, and Viks, and they all seem so happy, so proud that they’ll be bringing a new life into the world, they’ll be nurturing it inside them for nine months… I mean sure, we can adopt, but I- I’ll never have that bond, you know?”

“I know what you mean,” I whisper. “Who knows, maybe a hundred years from now medical science will make it so that girls like you can get pregnant… And maybe even guys like me could impregnate you, heh.”

“Yeah…” Jamie whispers, clearly lost in thought as she, like me, contemplates the ‘mechanics’ of how I would impregnate her. “Umm, anyway, gotta get back, it’s Saturday, I got to get ready for the party…”

“Umm, yeah,” I mumble as we pull up on the driveway outside Jamie & Charlotte’s vast home. So much for wanting to be a father… I haven’t even mustered up the courage to fulfil the primary duty of a husband yet.

After the traditional Saturday night party- which, as usual, I and the other guys spend serving drinks and cleaning up after the girls- Jamie and I head up to her bedroom, where we end the night in a whirlwind of half-drunk lust… But still my 'equipment' remains very much outside of Jamie's.

Naturally, both Jamie and I moan when we wake up the following morning- or rather, when we are both awoken by Jamie’s phone’s alarm the following morning.

“Ugh,” Jamie moans as she drags her tired, naked body across mine to get to her phone. “I’m blaming you for this hangover…”

“Yeah, what else is new,” I moan as I take several deep breaths to clear my head.

“You WERE the one serving the drinks,” Jamie says.

“You were the one drinking them!” I retort, making Jamie giggle as she rests her head on my chest.

“Touché,” Jamie sighs happily. “Speaking of ‘touch’…”

“Really?” I ask. “When we’re both hungover?”

“…I guess not,” Jamie sighs, and I can immediately tell from the sigh that I’ve upset her.

“Jamie,” I sigh. “Do- do we need to, you know, talk about this?”

“A woman has needs,” Jamie mumbles. “But so does a man… I always thought men were supposed to have MORE needs than women?”

“…I just need to make sure, you know…” I feebly reply.

“You’re long past the point your doctors said you’d be okay,” Jamie says. “Stu… Is- is it, umm, is it me?”

“How can you even ask that?” I whisper. “You’re the most beautiful woman of all time. Every man would give their right arm to be where I am right now. It’s just… You know, right?”

“’Know’ what?” Jamie asks.

“Well, um,” I reply. “Were- weren’t you nervous when you, you know, lost your virginity?”

“…Seriously?” Jamie asks. “After all we did last night?”

“I- I’m sorry,” I mumble, laying back on bed and clamping a pillow over my face. “God… I must seem pathetic to you.”

“..I was nervous,” Jamie whispers. “Every girl is. I guess every boy is too. But you don’t need to be afraid. It’s not like my SRS surgeon put teeth in there, heh!”

“Bite me,” I snort, making Jamie laugh out loud. “God, I’ve spent the last ten years looking forward to this, trying to make myself into a big, strong man… Guess I am just a frightened little girl after all.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Jamie asks. “Seriously. I didn’t agree to marry Stuart the Neanderthal. I’d much rather marry Stuart the frightened little girl. Because he- yes, HE- is open and honest with me, always.”

“And a shrimpy 5’ 7”,” I snort.

“Size isn’t everything,” Jamie says as she gently fondles my genitals. “’Enough’ is better than ‘too much’. If I’ve learned anything over the past twelve months, it’s that it’s better to want what you have, rather than have what you want.”

“But do you ‘want to have’ me?” I ask.

“Every time I look at you,” Jamie whispers. “But good things come to those who wait. So get up and get showered, stud!”

“…You literally just said ‘good things come to those who wait’,” I tease my fiancée.

“Yeah,” Jamie laughs. “And do you want to try saying that to my parents?” I laugh and sigh as I slide out of bed and head toward Jamie’s shower.

As the hot water cascades over my naked body, I lazily trace the outline of my scars with my finger, musing on how many good things have happened to me. Many transmen- hell, many transgendered people of all genders- don’t go in for SRS, let alone have operations that give them sexual functionality. And yet here I am, with a perfectly flat chest, a light layer of stubble on my face, thick black hair on my legs and my arms and, most importantly of all, a penis and a scrotum hanging between my legs. Around the world, there are millions of frightened little girls who would give anything to have the body I have, and millions of men- trans or cisgendered- who would give their right arms to share a bed with a sexually willing Jamie-Lee Burke. I don’t need to learn to want what I already have- I have more than I could have ever dreamed. And whilst my life isn’t perfect- my relationship with my grandmother, for example- if I had to do it all again, I would do in a heartbeat. Provided I could be born with a functioning penis, of course.

“All yours, sexy!” I laugh as I emerge from the shower, giving Jamie a kiss before pulling on a comfortable pair of black jeans and the sweatshirt I was ‘banned’ from wearing earlier in the week.

Naturally, the visit with Jamie’s parents go smoothly, as both of them- especially Jamie’s father- have always had a soft spot for me, Maybe it’s because they view me as the son it turns out they never had, I don’t know- either way, I have a smile on my face when we leave just after lunch, though any hopes of being able to go home to relax are dashed when Jamie’s phone beeps to inform her of a text message shortly after we set off.

“Huh, it’s from Krys,” Jamie says. “Says she wants to meet us for lunch, at a café in the middle of the city.”

“Okay,” I shrug, keying the new destination into my satnav. “Does she say why?”

“Nope,” Jamie replies. “…Though she says there’ll be a camera crew there too.”

“I’m not going in there bare-chested,” I say, sticking my tongue out at Jamie. “If threads show up on HD cameras, god only knows what they’ll do to my scars…”

“…I kinda like your scars,” Jamie says softly. “I don’t see them as disfigurements. I see them as signs of how brave you are, how you weren’t afraid to live your life the way you always wanted.”

“’Badges of courage’?” I ask.

“That’s as good a name for it as any,” Jamie says softly. “And it’s okay, there’ll be plenty of shops open, we’ll stop in one and pick you up a new, better sweater. My treat.” I roll my eyes and giggle as I key yet another destination into my satnav.

Forty minutes later- and with a brand-new designer sweater covering my torso- I find myself back in a posh café, sat beside my fiancée and opposite my best friend and his fiancée.

“Okay,” Jamie says, flashing her usual grin for the benefit of the camera crew. “We’re here… Spill…”

“Well…” Krystie says with a devilish grin. “You know how Mary had a baby three months ago, right?”

“She was born on my birthday,” Jamie laughs. “That’s kinda hard to forget!”

“And how your sister is pregnant- again,” Krystie continues, gesturing toward me. “And Viks is pregnant, and Stephanie’s brother’s partner is pregnant…”

“Krys…” Jamie whispers, her jaw dropping. “Are- are you-“

“Yes!” Krystie squeaks, flapping her hands excitedly.

“Oh my god!” Jamie squeaks, leaping up and giving Krystie a long hug whilst both women squeak incoherently at each other.

“…Well done, mate!” I laugh, shaking Mikey’s hand before standing up and giving him a quick, manly hug. “Were you, umm, were you guys trying?”

“We were, actually,” Mikey laughs nervously. “It’s- I’ll let Krys explain, she can put it better.”

“I only ever wanted to have ONE child,” Krystie explains. “I mean, I’m from a family of four, and I’m a middle child… Guess you know how that feels, Stu. Sharing the attention of your parents…”

“A bit,” I whisper. “Kinda had my own way of ‘getting attention’, though!”

“Just a bit,” Krystie laughs. “And Mary’s said she doesn’t want any more children, and- well, I’ve got this group of girls in my ballet class, six of them are in the same school year, and I always wanted my daughter to be in a ‘club’ just like them. Friends so close they’re practically sisters. Hell, you and the rest of the Angels are more like sisters to me than my own sister, heh.”

“So you want your daughter to be part of ‘The Angels: The Next Generation’ or something?” Jamie asks.

“Exactly,” Krystie says with a smug smile.

“Not to be a party pooper or anything,” I say quietly. “But what if- what if, you know, your child’s a boy?”

“Then we’ll love him all the same,” Krystie shrugs. “And marry him off to Natasha Carter the second he turns eighteen. God, that would be SO cool, me and Mary both being mothers or two people getting married…”

“And if he then wants to become a ‘she’?” Jamie asks, shooting a smug grin at me.

“Then she’ll take after her godmother, and be just as awesome as her!” Krystie says, making Jamie’s jaw drop. “Whatever gender this child chooses to be, even if they change their gender later on, it’s a win-win for us. For both of us.”

“As long as he or she loves playing the guitar,” Mikey says, making me snort with laughter.

“And dancing!” Krystie continues. “And yes, Stuart, you’ll be godfather too!”

“…I thought you were an atheist?” I ask, laughing as both Jamie and Krystie hit me over the head with the café’s menus.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want you- both of you- in my child’s life,” Krystie says.

“Well- congratulations,” Jamie says, giving more hugs to both Krystie and Mikey. “Who else knows?”

“Just Mary and Dan, the child’s other godparents,” Krystie says. “Yes, you may throw me a party whenever you want, just wait for Zoe to get back from France first, she flew out for her sister’s birthday today.”

“Can do!” Jamie giggles, as talk quickly turns to baby-related topics. Naturally, Jamie and Krystie dominate this conversation, but before we leave, I do find a chance to talk to the father-to-be.

“Well done again, mate,” I say, exchanging another quick hug with the tall, long-haired man.

“Thanks, mate!” Mikey laughs nervously. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“’Course,” I shrug.

“I- I never really imagined myself being a father,” Mikey confesses. “I mean, I’m only 26, and I know people become parents at a younger age, but still…”

“Nervous?” I ask.

“Try fucking terrified,” Mikey laughs. “But that’s no excuse. It just means I’ve got to step up, be a man, be a dad. Just because I’m afraid, doesn’t give me an excuse to duck away from my responsibilities. I am going to be the absolute best dad I can possibly be.”

“Well, as godfather- again- I’ll give you all the help you want,” I say, earning a grin from my best friend.

“Thanks,” Mikey laughs. “You didn’t have any problem learning the guitar when you were a girl, did you?”

“If anything, the smaller hands made it easier,” I laugh as we head back home, where Mikey’s words resonate in my ears.

Just because you’re afraid, it doesn’t give you an excuse to avoid doing it. Truer words were never spoken, and yet, as we arrive back at Jamie & Charlotte’s home, I can’t help but still feel nervous about what I know I have to do.

With Charlotte, Keith and their son both out- presumably meeting Krystie and Mikey- I grab my laptop and relax on the sofa whilst Jamie heads up to her bedroom to work on her vlog. Naturally, within a few seconds of logging into Facebook, I’m pestered by a new message notification.

‘Hi,’ the message- which is from Becca- reads.

‘Hi sicknote,’ I reply, giggling at the ‘angry’ emoji Becca sends in reply. ‘Still laid up?’

‘Yeah,’ Becca types with a frowning emoji. ‘This really sucks, I haven’t been able to sing in days, need to keep in practice and can’t.’

‘Are needles REALLY that scary?’ I type.

‘YES,’ Becca replies. ‘Okay, maybe not. I guess there are worse things. Can I tell you a secret?’

‘Sure,’ I type.

‘First time the band sang live, I was nearly pissing myself, I was that scared,’ Becca types.

‘Really?’ I reply.

‘Seriously,’ Becca types. ‘I’d have given anything for there to be a power cut, or a fire alarm, or anything that meant I had to put it off.’

‘And of course there wasn’t?’ I type.

‘Yep,’ Becca types. ‘So I went out there and sang anyway, and you know what? It was okay. After a few minutes, I forgot all about my fear.’

‘Just because you’re afraid of something, it doesn’t give you an excuse to avoid doing it,’ I type.

‘Ah, my wise older brother,’ Becca types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ smiley. ‘Who did you rip that saying off again?’

‘What makes you think it isn’t one of mine?’ I reply with a ‘sticking out tongue’ smiley of my own.

‘The 21 and a bit years I’ve known you, that’s what,’ Becca replies, followed by a ‘laughing’ emoji that earns an angry one from me, followed by a normal smiley.

‘Okay, it was Mikey,’ I type, earning a ‘winking’ emoji from Becca.

‘I knew it,’ Becca types. ‘Though seriously, I am glad you’re my older brother, especially the last few years. I couldn’t have become famous without you, and I don’t just mean because you wrote the music, or because you introduced me to the Angels. I love you, Stuart.’

‘Are you dying?’ I reply, earning an ‘angry’ emoji from Becca.

‘Ugh, typical BOY,’ Becca replies with a string of angry emoji.

‘I love you too, Becca’ I type. ‘I doubt I could have done any of the last ten years without you. I certainly wouldn’t be called ‘Stuart’ right now!’

‘Lol,’ Becca replies with a smiley. ‘You know, I had that imaginary friend right up until you came out to all of us. I was so much younger than you and Emma, sometimes I felt a bit left out.’

‘And after I came out?’ I ask.

‘I found out that the real Stuart was much better than the imaginary one,’ Becca types, bringing a tear to my eye.

‘Thank you,’ I type. ‘See you tomorrow for song writing practice?’

‘Not got anywhere better to be,’ Becca replies with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘See you tomorrow, bro.’

‘See you tomorrow, sis,’ I type as Becca logs out of Facebook. As much she can aggravate me at times, and as stuck up as she can be, I am so glad to have her as a sister. Never mind the fact that she technically made me a middle child- I’d happily share the attention of my parents if it meant having Becca in my life.

I while away the next hour and a bit laid on the sofa writing songs, before I’m interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and the familiar, wonderful sound of a toddler’s laughter coming through it.

“Hi guys!” I yell from the living room. “Jamie’s upstairs working.”

“Thanks,” Keith senior replies as he heads into the kitchen, whilst I’m forced to smile as Charlotte joins me in the living room, cradling the ever-growing Keith junior in her arms.

“Hey,” I say to the young mother as she sits down, kicking off her high-heeled shoes and breathing a sigh of relief. “Hey, big guy!”

“Hey, Uncle Stuart!” Charlotte mimes as she waves her son’s hand at me. “Take it you’ve heard the news, then?”

“Yep,” I say stoically. “Still, more members of the family can only be a good thing, right?”

“I think so,” Charlotte says as she sits her giggling nineteen month old son on her lap. “I’ve got to admit, though… I’m kinda disappointed not to make godmother.”

“…Maybe next time,” I whisper softly.

“Krystie and Mary have both said they’re not having any more kids,” Charlotte snorts. “Viks has already chosen her godmothers, Hannah’s chronically single…”

“Yeah,” I say. “But if me and Jamie ever become parents, you’ll be right at the top of the godparent list.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte says quietly, her voice full of emotion. “I love both you guys so much… I’m not really surprised I’m not godmother, though. I’m hardly the most mature person in the world…”

“I dunno,” I say. “You’ve grown a lot in the short time I’ve known you, and not just because of that little one.”

“Look who’s talking!” Charlotte laughs. “And not just you, but Jamie, too…”

“Ehh, I dunno,” I shrug. “’Mature’ people don’t spend most of their evenings playing videogames…”

“Oh, whatever,” Charlotte snorts. “So you’ve got a hobby, so what? Jamie and I own more shoes than we’ll ever be able to wear, that’s no different, really.”

“I guess,” I mumble. “You really think I’m more mature?”

“I think we all are,” Charlotte muses. “Like, we were ‘young adults’, now we’re ‘proper adults’… I dunno. It’s kinda hard to put your finger on it, you know?”

“I think I know what you mean,” I say. “Four years ago, you and I would never have been able to sit and just chat like this.”

“I know what you mean,” Charlotte laughs. “God, I was so stuck up back then, I’d probably have just written you off as some drooling fanboy or something…”

“And I would have just sat there, nervously drooling,” I laugh. “I’m so glad I plucked up the courage to talk to Jamie that day at Dr Phillips’s office, and not just because of her, but because of you guys as well.”

“A little bit of courage, and a few years later, you have everything you ever wanted?” Charlotte asks, making me laugh and nod.

“That seems to be how it goes,” I laugh. “He looks tired…”

“Yeah, he’s had a long day,” Charlotte laughs as her son yawns and fidgets in her lap. “I’ll head upstairs and get him down for his nap.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “And Charlotte? Thank you. For everything.”

“Anything for one of my best friends,” Charlotte says with a grin, before disappearing up the stairs.

I try to get back into my song writing to pass the time until Charlotte’s return, but her words- just like Mikey’s and Becca’s- are resonating within me. Every time I’ve faced my fear in the past, it’s only ever worked out well for me- and one particular moment springs immediately to mind.

“I don’t need to be afraid,” I whispered to myself as I looked at my sixteen year old reflection in the mirror. Mere minutes earlier, that face had been covered in make-up professionally applied as a ‘treat’ for my birthday. My body had been wrapped in an expensive dress, my nails had been covered in a red-coloured polish, and I… I felt like I was about to suffocate. Literally felt like I was about to die. It was a feeling I’d felt countless times before, but on those occasions, I’d been too afraid to do anything. Today… Today was different.

“I don’t need to be afraid,” I repeated, even though deep down inside, I was petrified. For months, I’d tried to convince myself that I was really a boy, that I wanted to be a boy, not a girl, that everything I was was wrong… But there was a very fundamental difference between convincing yourself of something and trying to convince others. How would my parents react? How would Emma react? Or Becca? Would they shun me? Would they force me to live like a girl? Would they send me to some kind of asylum, where I’d be brainwashed into believing that I was a girl after all?

“I don’t need to be afraid,” I said confidently for a third time in the deepest voice I could manage. This was MY life. What I say goes, not anyone else. People COULD live their life as the opposite gender to the one they were born into, if that was their desire. People WOULD be on my side. And mum and dad would even support my decision to live my life as a boy. Maybe dad always wanted a son, maybe Emma and Becca would prefer having a brother to a sister. I honestly, truly didn’t need to be afraid.

“I’m ready,” I said as I walked down the stairs to where my family was waiting…

“Alright, mate!” Keith laughed as I strolled into the kitchen, where he was busy cooking dinner.

“Alright mate,” I reply. “Dinner smells good.”

“Heh, it’s just spag bol,” Keith laughs. “You heard about Krystie, then?”

“Yep,” I say. “Reckon you can persuade Charlotte to build an extension and turn it into a crèche?”

“Like she’ll need persuading,” Keith laughs. “Believe it or not, we’ve already talked about possible having a second.”

“I’ve seen the way you both are with Keith junior, I can easily believe it,” I say, making the proud father laugh. “…Jamie and I have even talked about, you know, adopting at some point…”

“You’d be great parents,” Keith says. “Hell, you’re great godparents, that’s for sure. And you will be to Krystie’s baby too.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, leading to an awkward silence that’s only broken when Keith let’s out a long sigh.

“Mate…” Keith says quietly. “I- I don’t think I ever properly apologised. You know, for me and Jamie…”

“That was almost two years ago,” I mumble, trying to ignore the painful memories that are being dredged up. “Ancient history.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a historian,” Keith snorts. “That’s my everyday life. To learn from the mistakes of the past. And that was probably the biggest of them all.”

“If you’re looking for my forgiveness, you have it,” I say. “I’m glad we can be friends again, I really am.”

“I’m glad too,” Keith laughs. “Frankly, I reckon the ‘Terrible Ten’ are even cooler than the Angels!” I let out a long, loud laugh as Keith opens up Facebook on his iPad and shows me a photograph that was taken at Thursday’s ballet recital or myself, him, Dan, Jonathan, Paul, Mikey, Danny, Riley, Marco and Kurt. Despite my comparative shortness (seven of the men are over six feet tall, and I’m most definitely not), you really can’t tell that I don’t belong in the photo. I am, at the end of the day, just another one of the guys.

“That’s an awesome pic,” I laugh. “Kinda sucks that you can tell that Kurt doesn’t feel entirely comfortable.”

“He will,” Keith shrugs. “You, well, ‘slot in’ seamlessly.”

“Yeah,” I say with a proud grin.

“And I can make jokes about ‘slots’ now that you don’t have one anymore,” Keith says.

“Do you have AppleCare on your iPad?” I ask. “Would it cover it if, I say, smashed it over your head?”

“Probably not,” Keith laughs. “Jamie still upstairs?”

“Yep,” I whisper.

“You still, you know…” Keith asks. “Got ‘pre-performance nerves’?”

“…Not anymore,” I say confidently. “I don’t need to be afraid. Of anything. Not whilst I’ve got friends, family… And her.”

“Go get ‘er,” Keith said, giving me a playful pat on the back. “And anytime you need a man-to-man, just ask.”

“Same goes for you, mate,” I say with a grin as I leave the kitchen and head upstairs, where I can hear music playing from Jamie’s bedroom- a sure sign she’s finished recording her blog.

I take a deep breath, before opening Jamie’s bedroom door, grinning as she smiles at me before turning her attention back to her laptop. She shivers slightly as I place my hands on her shoulders, before sighing as I gently treat her neck with slow, soft kisses.

“Stu…” Jamie whispers as she shivers once again. “Stu- N-now?”

“Now,” I whisper. “If- if you’re ready, of course, I man-“ I stammer, before being silenced as Jamie gently places a finger on my lips.

"Now," Jamie says firmly, kissing me deeply before freeing me from my trousers and my boxer shorts.

As I peel Jamie's tight dress off of her, I shiver with excitement as she gently massages my genitals, inflating the implant within it until I'm fully erect. After sliding Jamie's thong off of her glistening body, I reach into her nightstand for her tube of lubricant, smearing some on my fingers and drawing a line with it from between her breasts to just above her opening. As my cold fingers stroke her clitoris, Jamie yelps with ecstasy, yelling some more as I dip one lube-covered finger into her vagina, followed by a second, until her most sensitive area is slick and shiny, and ready for me.

Jamie, still moaning loudly, takes her lube and gently coats my penis with it, sending electric shocks of pleasure through my whole body with every touch. It's not long before we're both ready, and with our naked bodies entwined, we collapse onto Jamie's bed, where the beautiful blonde girl stares up at me with expectant eyes. After another long, deep kiss, I carefully guide my penis toward her opening, yelping with pleasure and excitement as the first inch effortlessly slips inside her.

Jamie, as she always does when she makes love, yells loudly as each thrust brings me deeper inside her, until before long, our public areas are in full contact. Within seconds, we both orgasm simultaneously. The orgasms I get from my penis may be different (and shorter) from before my operation, but they are no less intense, and Jamie's shrieks of pleasure tell me that she is just as 'pleased' as I am. I'm almost disappointed when I withdraw from my fiancée, but the glazed look on her eyes tells me that I won't have to wait long before being 'invited back in'.

“Wow,” Jamie breathes as we lay side by side, trying to get our breath back. “Wow- just- that was- wow…”

“You approve?” I ask as I try to stretch the tension out of my body.

“OH yeah,” Jamie laughs. “Seriously, Stuart, you are THE best lover. You’re so- you’re so careful, so gentle, you don’t just ‘ram it in there’… I am the luckiest woman in the world. Thank you.”

“No, thank YOU,” I whisper, rolling onto my side and giving Jamie a long, soft kiss. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Jamie whispers as we spend one brief, blissful moment in each other’s arms.

My name is Stuart Raymond Milton. That hasn’t always been the case, but the past is the past. I was born the second daughter of three, but I am now the son of two proud parents, and the fiancé of a wonderful, amazing woman whom I love with my whole heart. I have more friends than I could ever dreamed of, all of whom care about me as deeply as I care about them. I’m doing my dream job, and I want for nothing. I have no reason to be afraid anymore, and there is nothing ‘wrong’ about me, no matter what anyone says.

I was born a girl, but I AM a man, and as of today, no one can ever take that away from me. I AM a man, and I always will be. End of story.

“Jamie…” I whisper as we get dressed, ready to head down to join our friends for dinner. “Have you thought anymore recently about adopting?”