The cadets see their professor beam onto her dais in the newly built lecture hall just before she glances around at all the second year and a few enterprising first year academy cadets arrayed in the few hundred seats surrounding her. Her eyes taking in the few empty seats scattered here and there throughout the hall. More than she expected. The male cadets appreciating her Academy issue uniform showing her long legs and many female cadets glad she is not their age and competing for the same males whenever time allows.

So what can I say? My muse is a b*. She doesn’t even let me finish before she serves me another. Curve balls most of them, and then she runs away to hide, laughing snidely as she leaves me stranded in the deep blue.

Yep, she fights dirty.

I’ve heard others say that being transgendered is a gift. This is the story of how my gift worked out in my life.

As I walked up the garden path towards my own front door, my next-door neighbour called to me through her open front window. "Jim!"

Dear educators and fellow students, a reminder, our assignment states that our stories may be fiction or real, it is up to you to judge.

 
WARNINGS: Contains transgender themes, Sci-Fi, explicit sex, mild violence, bad words, and strange ideas. It has only the strange things that dribble from my head. If you are not old enough, mature enough, open minded enough, and especially not smart enough to stop reading should you find yourself becoming offended viewing such a story, don't!

This was written by a friend of mine, who is a Genetic girl. She wrote it long ago and, to her, it had no TG significance at all. It's only since we met that she showed this poem to me, and _I_ commented that it seemed very poignant and very expressive of the way _I_ feel as a woman trapped in a male body. I have her permission to post this, and I claim NO ownership of it.