Disclaimer: This story contains descriptions of transgender surgery



As I sat on the bus taking me to my new school, I stared out the window at the town I’d only been living in for the past ten weeks.

Ten weeks.

One heck of a lot had happened in those ten weeks.

I smiled at the memory and glanced at the girl in the seat next to me. She smiled back at me.

“Nervous?” she asked.

I nodded.

“You needn’t be, you’ll be fine,” she said.

That was easy for her to say; after all, she wasn’t a sixteen year old boy dressed as a girl, who everyone thought was a girl, except his parents, that is.


*        *        *


It all started just after the move; the last one, anyway. I’d moved so many times I’d lost count as I was an army brat, having followed my Dad from British Army base to base. I’d done up to my second year at secondary level at an international School in Germany, and then sat my GCSEs in Warwickshire. I’d left that school after taking my exams, so was waiting for the results. It also meant that I got an extra long holiday before starting at my sixth form college.

We’d been living in a nice big house in Leamington-Spa in Warwickshire. Dad had left the army some three years ago to go into partnership with an old army buddy running a 4X4 training and adventure track.

For the first two years they’d done well, but with the recession, money was tight and they’d made a loss. Then the army buddy made a foolish investment and the company went into receivership. Dad sold the house just before the housing market crashed, paid off the mortgage and we moved into a rental place for a while as he looked for another job.

He found one in Allanford, which wasn’t far away, but it was completely new to all of us. Lots of companies like Asda and Amazon had enormous warehouses there, so Dad, as an ex-soldier, got a job on the security team that covered some of them. So we moved, yet again. This time it was to a small two bedroom terraced house on Riverfield Estate next to a huge country park.

My room was tiny, but Dad had managed to buy the house with only a small mortgage, so we were more secure than ever before. The security job didn’t pay that well, so Mum got a job at the University in the admin office. We were comfortable but not rolling in it.

Then, before all the boxes were unpacked, he confronted me.

“A job?” I asked, aghast.

“Yes, Max, a job. You know, what everyone has to have in order to live. You're nearly seventeen now, hell, when I was seventeen I was a soldier!”

“Yeah, Dad, so what, you wanted to be, and besides, I want to go to university, not die in some foreign field over something I don't understand.”  I was desperate now, as a job meant I was growing up and joining the big people. A job meant responsibility and I wasn't sure I wanted that.  I was quite happy lying in bed until noon, grazing from the fridge between meals and staying on the computer until 3am. It also meant that both Mum and Dad were out of the house from eight until six every day, so I could dress to my heart's content.

If I had a job then I wouldn't be able to become Maxine. That was a terrible prospect, particularly as this year was the first year that my older brother Rufus was living away from home. He was twenty-two and worked for an engineering company that made helicopter parts. He was in Germany attached to one of the specialist factories and so had left home last Christmas. I had the new house to myself, and so I made full use of the freedom. It was fantastic.

“Look Max, you lounge around here all day, playing games on the computer and generally being a couch potato. I’ve tried to encourage you to take up sports like your brother, but you’ve not gone for them, which is fine, but enough is enough. It’s time you started to take responsibility for your own life. You say you want to go to university, great, I’m all for that, as I never had that advantage, but how are you going to live? You need funds, and what with our mortgage and the way things are with work at the moment, we need every penny your mother and I earn, so if you want money, you’re going to have to work for it.”

I experienced a sinking feeling.

If I didn’t dress, then I got stressed out. I had to become Maxine as often as I could, which had been at least every day for the past week or so. I even had my own clothes that I’d acquired over the past couple of years. Some came from charity shops, others from catalogues, as I didn’t fancy second hand panties.

I was fortunate in that I wasn’t that tall, at five-six, and slim with long hair. I was sufficiently androgynous to pass as a girl even in neutral clothes, such as jeans, tee shirt and trainers. I got a huge kick out of being taken as a girl, and would walk, talk and move in as much a feminine manner as I could. With make up and nail varnish, I thought I was more than passable, but then, that was a subjective view. I’d yet to try wearing them outside the house.

“Okay, Dad, I’ll see if I can find one.”

“If you don’t get one in a week, then I think I can get you a job at one of the warehouses. They’re always taking on holiday kids, but don’t expect more than about five quid an hour.”

“Wow, thanks Dad.”

He gently clipped me across the head.

“Don’t be sarcastic. A job is a job, and in these times, be thankful for what you can get. We’ve graduates working for the minimum wage in some places, so get real.”

I left the house in a slight temper, as all my plans to spend most of every day as Maxine were dashed. I was planning to go out dressed with makeup and it was such an exciting thought that I became aroused just thinking about it.

“I’m a girl!” I said to myself.

It was like a mantra, and I must repeat those words a thousand times a day, just to counter the reality of my starkly male body. To my delight, I was a late developer, and I’d been buying hormones from the internet for the last eighteen months to make sure I was even later.

I walked up the road and caught the bus into town.  I knew no one in Allanford, and more to the point, no one knew me. I was down to start at the sixth form of a school in September, but had only visited it once to meet the headmaster. It seemed like any other school, and I was anything but enthusiastic about the prospect.

Allanford is a busy town, with lots of shops in the centre. I wandered around aimlessly, feeling depressed. I liked finding charity shops, where I could spend my meagre savings on books or clothes – girl’s clothes, naturally. The geriatric staff always assumed I was a girl, and I became ever so feminine in gesture whenever I bought stuff. I had the valley girl, breathy speak, with ‘like’ and ‘you know’ off pat.

I found a nice little skirt and a couple of tops in the Cancer Research shop, in which the old biddy on the till called me ‘dear’ as I paid for them.

There was a small newsagent next door and I just glanced at the advert cards in the window. Some advertised jobs and one caught my eye.


Must be 16 or over.


I took out my mobile and called the number.

Now, I know that most people think I’m a girl on the telephone, and this person did as well, but the trouble was, I couldn’t tell whether I was talking to a man or a woman either.

I was given an appointment half an hour later to go to an address not far from the university, so it was on my bus route home.


*        *        *



The address was an older terrace house with a pink VW beetle parked outside. I walked through the gate and up the short tarmac path to the front door. The front garden was only three meters deep, by the width of the house, say eight metres across.

I think the person who answered the door was a man, but it was hard to say. He sounded female and his whole manner was so effeminate that all the edges were blurred.

“Yeth?” he lisped

“Hi, I’m Max, I called a few minutes ago, about the dog walking job.”

He was a man, but just. I guessed he was in his forties, but as his hair was slightly receding it was difficult to tell his exact age. What hair he had left was long, so looked faintly silly. He wore a pink top, which originated in India or somewhere like that. It was very ornate, loose fitting and ambiguous. His trousers were lime green and he wore sandals. I noted his toenails were painted pink to match the top.

“Come in, dear, come in.”

With a languid wave of a hand, he gestured for me to enter. I hesitated.

“Oh, you girls, I’m not going to bite, I promise,” he said, smiling.

(I’m not a girl… yes, I am!)

He led me into a chintzy sitting room that seemed to come straight out of the nineteen fifties. I almost corrected his mistake, but something inside me stopped me doing so.

He sat on a chair that had frilly lacy bits on the back and arms. I noticed he sat like a woman in a tight skirt.

“Do sit. Call me Fitz, why don’t you?” he said.

I sat and smiled uneasily. I’d never really been close to anyone so obviously gay before, knowingly, that is. I’d probably sat next to lots on buses or trains, but never known it.

“Do you like dogs?” he asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Have you got a dog at home?”

“Uh, not at the moment, we were living abroad and well, we never seemed to be in one place long enough. I always wanted one and Daddy (Daddy??? What was that? I never called him Daddy!) says we can only have one if there’s someone at home to look after it. As they both work and I have to go to school, I guess we won’t be getting one soon.”

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

I did, becoming aware that as he was using feminine gestures and mannerisms, I seemed to follow suit naturally.  He was writing stuff down as I talked, and I noticed his fingernails were shaped like a woman’s, but with clear varnish, not coloured. I caught myself, and tried to stop being quite so girly, but for some reason, the Maxine inside me seemed to take over. When I’d finished my short biography, he smiled and asked if I wanted a cup of tea.

“No thanks, I suppose I ought to get home.”

“Well, you look like a nice strong girl, but even so, we’ve some big dogs on our books. Do you think you can handle them?” he asked.

(I’m not a girl… yes, I am!)

“I suppose so. I won’t know if I don’t try,” I said, sweeping my hair back from my face in a very feminine way.

“Good answer. I take it you’re a schoolgirl still?”

(I’m not a girl… yes, I am!)

“Um, yes, I’m due to start sixth form soon.”

He took down my address and mobile number.

“Okay, you’re hired. When can you start?”

I was stunned.

“Um, anytime.”

“Okay, is this afternoon all right?”


“I have several people on my books that live on your estate, so you won’t need to travel far. Some will walk together, but one or two aren’t that friendly with other dogs.”

He went on to tell me about how the system worked. The clients paid him a monthly retainer and he paid the walkers by the hour or job at the end of the week. All leads, muzzles and harnesses were supplied by the client, but he handed me a leather lead and collar.

“Just in case of breakages. You never know.”

He then gave me a list of four names and addresses, with details of the dogs and times they were due to be walked. Then he handed me four keys on bright blue tabs.

“Keep these safe. If you lose them, then tell me and the client. I suggest you invest in a chain for them, so you never have them loose.”

Nervously, I accepted them.

“Good, I take it that Max is short for Maxine?”

I just gaped, but nodded.

“Fine, oh, and try to be a little smarter, Maxine, as I like my people to set a good example. I know it’s only walking dogs, but I like to think we’re the best at it.”


“Lose the unisex look, I like my girls to look like girls and boys as boys, get me?”

I stared at this camp, effeminate man and smiled.

“I get you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to be silly, as some clothes are just not practical, but you know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

“Good, those four will do you for this week. Give each dog an hour’s walk. Apart from Hamish, they all get on fine, so you may be able to walk them together, but Hamish will need to be taken by himself. Watch him, as he will go for other dogs, no matter their size.”

I looked at the list and saw that Hamish was a three year old Jack Russell.

“Good luck. I’ll see you on Friday at four o’clock when you come for your wages. Is cash all right?”

“Cash is fine, thanks”

That was it. I had a job and the silly man thought I was a girl.


*        *        *



Dad was over the moon when we met up at supper time.

He clapped me on the back and said, “Well done, son!”

Mum just smiled and dished up supper.

“Did you have any problems with the dogs?”

“No, not really. Hamish is a little sod, as he doesn’t bark or anything. He just races at the other dog and if I didn’t have him on the lead, he’d attach himself to the other dog’s throat and only let go after it died.”

I could say that the only problem I had was changing.

I’d come home to an empty house, changed into Maxine’s clothes – the skirt and one of the top’s I’d bought, plus a bra padded our with my B breast forms. Wearing makeup and nail varnish for the first time, I ventured forth to my first port of call – Hamish.

The address was only five minutes walk from our house, but by the time I arrived, I was feeling strangely excited after having been outside for all to see as a girl. I couldn’t explain the feeling, but it was as if I was finally true to myself. It wasn’t as if I was aroused, as I’d found that after taking the hormones, I rarely felt anything down there any more. Occasionally this worried me, but for most of the time, I just didn’t think about it.

Hamish’s owner, Mrs Skinner, was a lady with MS. She was in, so I didn’t need to use the key. Mind you, by the sound of yapping on the other side of the door after I’d rung the bell, I knew that Hamish was ready for a walk.

As soon as the door was open, a streak of black, white and brown dashed out and stuck his little black nose up my skirt. It was cold and wet. The nose, not me!

“Hi, I’m from MISS FITZ, to walk Hamish,” I said, pulling Hamish down from where he was exploring.

“Hello, dear, you must be Maxine. Fitz called and told me you’d be coming.”

She handed me a lead, which I attached to Hamish’s collar.

“He isn’t that good with other dogs, and don’t let him off near the ducks, as he likes to play with them,” she told me.

I looked at Hamish and he looked at me. There was an understanding between us. I knew he wasn’t playing with anything, as he just wanted to kill anything that didn’t feed him or throw a ball for him. The mangled tennis balls were a dead give away and he knew that I knew.

He was actually a sweet little dog that needed some discipline, but for the moment he wasn’t let off the lead unless there wasn’t another living thing within three light years distance. He had amazing energy and could cover ground as rapidly as a Euro-fighter.  The ducks all knew him and quacked their disgust as they all took to the water – just in case.

Once I deposited him back home, I went on to my next client. Actually, as the next three were placid compared to Hamish, I was able to take the next three together. There was Bruno the black lab, Suzy the saluki and Bobby the West Highland terrier. I did yet another circuit of the lake, letting the dogs off on the open ground. The only problem was Bruno, who had a penchant for food, particularly human food, such as picnics or ice creams. But I managed to get them all back to their owners without being done for theft of sandwiches.

I found I really liked walking. The dogs romped, sniffed, crapped and peed everywhere, so I carried several plastic bags for collecting the evidence. For the most part I was able to let my mind wander into that fantasy land where Maxine was real and Max was a shallow memory. In this perfect land, I was stunningly beautiful, intelligent and a walking sex-goddess. I made up different storylines, all of which ended with me having sex with the most wonderful boy, and living happily ever after.

Happy ever after…. Yeah, right!

I now had a problem, as I was dressed as a girl, with no boy’s stuff with me, no makeup remover and nail varnish remover, and I was likely to get home at roughly the same time as my mother.

I met a few people in the park, but had neither the time nor the opportunity to be social. On my way home, particularly the closer I got to my house, I met several people and some were friendly and wanted to pass the time of day. I was within feet of my front door when an elderly lady pounced. She was putting something in her wheelie bin when she saw me.

“Oh, you must be the new people from number sixty-eight?”

“Um, yes,” I said, relieved to see my mum’s car wasn’t outside the house.

“I saw you moving in, I must confess, I thought you were a boy at first, silly me. Mind you, you girls do wear boyish clothes at times, don’t you?”

“Um, yes,” I said, surreptitiously pulling my skirt hem down a little, hoping she’d die or something.

“I’m Hilda Granger, what’s your name, dear?”

“Max,” I replied, willing her to have a stroke or her phone to ring.

“I have a niece called Maxine too. Such a nice name.”

“Um yes.”

“Well, I can’t spend all day chatting. Must get on, it was nice seeing you, dear.”

“Likewise,” I muttered and raced for my front door.  I made it with a few minutes to spare. By the time Mum got in, I was nonchalantly sitting in the lounge watching TV.

My eyes were stinging as I’d managed to get makeup remover into them and my fingers smelled of varnish remover. I vowed to use less makeup and no varnish in future.


*        *        *



Over the next few days, I settled into a nice routine. Up at nine-ish after the parents had left for work, spend some time dressed as Maxine and playing in one of the chat rooms with my webcam on. I had a string of internet friends, mainly boys, and none of them knew I was really a boy. I avoided anything to do with TG sites and rooms, as I was a real girl, wasn’t I?

Then a quick lunch and then off to do Hamish, followed by the others. I deliberately spent over an hour on each walk, thereby ensuring I got my £28 per day. It was easy money.  I explored the park a bit by changing my walk routes. There were sufficient paths and tracks for me to rarely do the same walk twice. By the Friday afternoon, I was more familiar with the park and on nodding terms with many other walkers. Although dressed as a girl, I was less heavily made up than the first day, and didn’t bother with nail varnish anymore. I carried a pair of jeans and a tee shirt in a small rucksack , so could change out of my skirt, bra and top in the loos at the park.

I turned up at Fitz’s house at 4 pm on the Friday to find two other walkers already at the front door. There was a tubby girl and a tall, thin boy; each looked at me without suspicion.

“Hi,” said the girl. “You must be Maxine. Welcome to the misfits. I’m Becca.”

“Misfits?” I asked.

“Yeah, MISS FITZ, it’s all in the name,” said the boy. He was painfully thin, but over six foot. He was also plagued by acne, poor guy. “I’m Greg,” he admitted.

“Hi. Isn’t he in?” I asked.

“It’s not quite four yet. He doesn’t like being interrupted,” said Becca.

“Why, what’s he doing?” I asked. Both of them grinned and looked knowingly at each other.


“He dresses up every afternoon,” she told me.


“He’s a transvestite, and spends all afternoon dressed in different gowns. He worked as a wardrobe assistant in a theatre before it closed, so he has an attic that is like a theatrical dressing room.”

“Does he know you know?” I asked, feeling a weird sense of excitement.

Becca let me in on the secret.

“A few months ago, not long after I started, I got here early as my parents were taking us down to see my gran. I rang the bell, and when I got no reply, looked in the front window. He was swishing about in a fabulous dress with some music on. He was dancing. It was so amazing. I ducked out of sight before he saw me and waited until four. When he opened the door, he still had some foundation around his neck. But he acted if nothing had happened, so I did the same.”

“Yeah, I saw a similar thing a few weeks earlier. He’s a real perv, but not dangerous,” said Greg.

Becca looked at her watch and pressed the doorbell.

Fitz opened the door. He was wearing what can only be described as a gentleman’s smoking jacket in black silk and crushed red velvet. It looked odd over the top of track suit trousers and the same sandals. We trooped into his lounge. There was a heady scent of perfume in the air.

“Afternoon everyone, where’s Gordon?” he said.

“Gordon?” I asked.

“He’s one of the other walkers, he’s late,” said Greg.

“Never mind, here you go, an envelope for each. Same again on Monday, Greg?”

“Okay, Fitz.”

“Becca, Mrs Simmonds is going away, so Thatcher won’t need a walk next week.”

“Thatcher?” I said, smiling. “Is it a bitch or a dog?”

Becca smiled. “A Doberman bitch.”

“Now, now, Maxine, here’s your money. I’ve had some good reports about you. Can you fit in another two next week?”

“I think so.”

Great, that would make it £44 a day, which would mean £220 a week. That was cool!

“Excellent. I’ve put the details in your envelope. They’re morning jobs, I’m afraid, so no lie-ins,” he said.

We were just leaving by the front door when another boy arrived. He was as tall as Greg, but not thin. He wasn’t fat, but fair haired, good looking and well muscled. The kind of boy I dreamed about. This must be Gordon, I thought.

He grinned at me.

“Hi, I’m Gordon, you must be Max?”

“The very same,” I said, feeling a flush rising in my face.

“Nice to meet you,” he said and was then gone, into the house to collect his money.

“Fitz likes to keep Gordon a little longer,” said Becca with a knowing smile.

“Gordon’s not gay?” I asked, aghast, and yet strangely curious.

“Gordon is just Gordon. They say he only loves Gordon,” muttered Greg.

“He goes to Allanford College, so we don’t know him that well. He’s sometimes not able to walk the dogs as he plays sports. If that happens, we have to cover his clients,” Becca said.

I found out that Greg and Becca were my age, while Gordon was a year older. We all went our separate ways, and I drifted towards home. I was earlier than normal, so knew I’d have time to change before Mum got home.  I was about to turn down my road when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned.

“Hi,” said Gordon.

“Hello,” I replied, feeling embarrassed and not sure why. “You escaped then?”

He grinned.

“Old Fitz is all right. He should have been born a woman, that’s all.”

“He never tries anything?” I asked.

“He made a suggestion in my first week a couple of years ago, but after I told him where to go, he’s not tried again.”

“Oh,” I said, wondering what had been suggested.

“Sorry, I don’t go for elderly queens, only pretty girls like you,” he said.

I went so red. He called me a pretty girl. I felt myself becoming excited just because he thought I was a girl. Now I was getting really embarrassed.

“Do you fancy going to see a film and grabbing a pizza sometime?” he asked.

(He’s asking me for a date! OH MY GOD, he wants me!)

“Um, yeah, that sounds nice,” I said, trying to sound casual, but aware of my racing heart.

“Okay, how about tonight?”


“Um, er, yes, I mean, I don’t know, shit, why not? Um, I need to change, and let my Mum know,” I gibbered. That was the only expression for it, I gibbered.

“Okay, I’ll meet you at the multiplex in an hour?”

“Great,” I said, unable to put two coherent thoughts together.

(He’ll find out and kill me!)

I shouldn’t have agreed, I thought.

What to do?

I dashed home, changed into a different skirt and shoes with heels, brushed my hair, applied some makeup and clipped on some earrings. I scribbled a note to my parents, leaving it on the side in the kitchen. GONE TO CINEMA WITH A FRIEND. WILL GRAB A PIZZA OR SOMETHING. BE BACK LATER.

I caught my reflection in the hall mirror. I looked like a girl. Shit, what happens if he slips a hand into my panties?

The hormones I’d been taking to try to stop the onset of puberty meant that I rarely experienced an erection. As my penis spent most of the time taped securely between my legs, I wasn’t bothered that much. As I thought of Gordon rolling me onto my tummy and impaling my arse with his dick, I began to feel a little aroused.  I knew I might be seeping, so I had to go to the bathroom so I didn’t stain my clothes.

I wanted to be a real girl for him, but was willing to be whatever I could. He wasn’t likely to try to finger me on a first date, was he?

I thought about not turning up and making some excuse later. I couldn’t, as I so wanted to go.


*        *        *



The movie was Outlander and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Gordon shared his popcorn with me, but didn’t try anything physical. I was rather disappointed as I’d never kissed anyone. At one point I was tempted to accidentally rub his trousers, just to see what would happen. Common sense prevailed.

After the movie we walked the short distance to the Pizza place. It was crowded, but there was a table free.

“So, how come I’ve not seen you around before?” he asked, after we’d ordered.

“We’ve only just moved here from Warwickshire.”

“What school are you going to?”

“I think I’m due to start Allanford Modern in September. I did my GCSEs up in Warwickshire.”

“How did you get on?”

“I’m still waiting on the results, but I’m expecting mostly As.”

“Cool, have you thought about Allanford College instead of school? Only they sometimes give bursaries to high achieving students.”

“I didn’t know. I think my Dad just looked for the first school he could.”

“I’m at the college doing film studies. What do you fancy doing?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t really care, perhaps something in social science.”

“They do Psychology and Sociology, amongst many others. It’s also not like school. You’d like it.”

“I’ll talk to my Dad,” I said, changing the subject to his sports.

Time flew past, and I was really enjoying myself. I got a real kick going to the ladies, so I went twice!

I was sad when we’d finished and the bill arrived.

“Let me pay my half,” I said, getting my wallet out.

“No way, this is on me.”

“But you paid for the cinema as well,” I protested.

“Just sit back and accept the advantage of being a pretty girl,” he said, paying the bill. I could have come!

“Do you want a lift home?” he asked.

“It’s okay; I only live a couple of minutes away.”

“Let me walk you home, then?”

“No, but thanks.”

Before I knew what had happened, he slung an arm around my shoulder and kissed me on the lips.

“Thanks for a lovely evening,” he said before I could react.

I stood there with my mouth open, too stunned to speak.


While I tried to reboot my brain, he kissed me again.

This time, I wasn’t going to let him get away, so I slung my arms around his neck and opened my mouth.

Now, I should explain, all my experience with kissing was on the back of my hand, so nothing prepared me for his tongue gently massaging my tonsils!

I used my tongue to play with his, and felt one of his hands grab my left buttock and pull me closer to him. I then felt something hard against my tummy. It took me a couple of seconds before I realised what it was. The shock made me break away.

He had an erection over me!

“I’d better go!” I said, somewhat breathlessly.

He grinned, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”


“We could go back to my place for a bit,” he suggested.

A bit of what?

“Um, nice idea, but I’d better get home,” I said.

“Okay, see you,” he said, kissing my cheek one last time.

FUCK ME!  I thought.

“Bye,” I actually said.

I waited for him to go round the corner and then popped into the loo again, reluctantly emerging a few minutes later as Max.

As I walked home I realised that Max was a shadow of his former self and Maxine was now a barely caged tigress.

“Nice film, dear?” my mother asked as I opened the front door.

“Yeah, cool.”

“Who’s your friend,” asked my Dad.

“Just another of the blokes who walks the dogs,” I said.

“Not a girl?” he asked with a sly grin.

“No Dad, not a girl.”

He looked a little disappointed. My heart sank, as how the hell could I tell him that I’m the girl.

I went to bed, wearing a slinky night dress. I experimented by pushing the handle of my hairbrush up my bum and pretending it was Gordon’s dick. Even my limp little dick almost rose to the occasion.

I so wanted to be a real girl!

Before going to sleep, I knew that at some point I had to tell my parents. It was just the when that I couldn’t decide upon.


*        *        *



The days merged into weeks and before I knew it, half the holidays had passed. I was running ragged living two lives; a boy in front of my parents and a girl everywhere else. I was incredibly naïve if I thought I could get away with it for long. I mean, my parents weren’t either blind or stupid, were they?

Gordon, fortunately, had gone away with his family on holiday, so I was spared sexual trepidations. I was eating breakfast one Saturday morning when Mum looked at me strangely.

“I met one of our neighbours yesterday,” she said. “Old Mrs Granger. Have you met her?”

I shrugged.

“I dunno, possibly.”

“Well she’s met you. She made a point of coming up to me and asked after my lovely daughter.”

“She’s probably blind as well as daft,” I said, wanting a hole to open and swallow me up.

“Hmm, she was convinced you were a girl.”

“Okay, so I’m not that butch, but do I really look like a girl?” I asked.

My mother looked at me strangely.

“Actually, Max, you do. I’d not really noticed before, but sometimes you look more like a girl than a boy. It’s your hair and fine features. And I have to admit, some of your mannerism are faintly feminine”

“There you are then. Not my fault.”

“How do you explain her comment?”

“What comment?” I asked, with my heart thumping.

“The one about your short skirt leaving little to the imagination.”


“She must have mistaken me for someone else.”

“She was pretty convinced.”

“It could have been my shorts. Sometime I wear shorts to walk the dogs.”

“Hmm, possibly,” my Mum said, still looking at me strangely.


*        *        *


I dressed down from that moment, returning to more ambiguous, androgynous attire. I was spared any more embarrassing confrontations, but remained alert. I did mention to my Dad that Allanford College sounded better than Allanford Modern. He muttered something about spoiled for choice and told me he’d look into it.

Becca and I spent quite a bit of time together, as we both lived on the same estate and would often join up for walks.

“I heard you went out with Gordon,” she said.

“We only went to a movie and pizza. Nothing happened,” I said as nonchalantly as I could.

“He’s never asked me,” she said.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, not really knowing what to say.

“Oh, don’t be, I’m aware why. Boys like him don’t go for fat girls.”

“Like him?” I asked.

“Yeah, they’re so wrapped up in themselves, so they only want to be seen with attractive girls in case anyone thinks they can’t attract pretty girls.”

“That’s a bit unfair. I’m not that pretty,” I said.

“Who’re you kidding?”

“I’m not.”

“If you dolled up, you’d be stunning. Most of the time you dress like a boy. I don’t know why you do.”

“Maybe I don’t want to attract boys like Gordon,” I said with a grin.

“Yeah, right,” she said, unconvinced.

 “Okay, so I just prefer to be anonymous, okay?” I said.

The next week passed without mishap, until Friday.

I’d just collected my wages and was returning home to change when a car pulled up along side of me. I was still wearing makeup, earrings and a bra, although the top and jeans were ambiguous. I was in girl mode.

It was my mother.  We were within sight of home.

She stared at me for a moment.

“Get in,” she said.

“Mum, I…”

“Get in.”

I got in.

She didn’t move or look at me. She simply turned the engine off. After and age she spoke.

“How long?”


“How long has this being going on?”

“All my life, but like this since we moved here.”


“Because I’m a girl, Mum.”

“No, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I suppose I thought you’d be cross.”

“I’m bloody cross I had to find out like this!” she said, looking at me for the first time.

I said nothing, but felt the tears running from both eyes.

“How could you?” she asked.

“How could I what?”

“We gave you everything you needed, so how, why?”

“I don’t know, Mum, I’ve always felt I was a girl.”

“But like this!”

I sat crying, looking at my hands in my lap.

“Are you gay?”

I looked up, surprised at the question.

“Do you like boys?” she asked.

I immediately thought of Gordon.

“I guess, sort of, but I’m a girl, not a boy.”

“I was cleaning up and found some clothes, so guessed, but I didn’t think it went this deep.”

“I’m sorry. I never asked for this,” I said, still crying.

She handed me a tissue.

“Fuck, Max, I’ve spent the last two days reading up on transgender kids. Never in a million years did I think I’d have to deal with something like this!”

“Does Dad know?” I asked, fearing the worst.

“Max, have you looked in a mirror recently?”

I nodded.

“I’ve been talking to our neighbours. Did you know that nine people think you’re a girl and not one of them believed you were a boy, none of them? Your father and I have talked about little else of late. We’ve been waiting for you to tell us, except I got tired of waiting. Your father doesn’t know how to deal with this.”

“I’m sorry,” I stammered and openly wept. The shame, guilt and anguish was tangible.

“What about them, how come they look so realistic?” she asked, nodding towards my chest.

“Silicone breast forms. I got them off eBay,” I admitted.

Shaking her head, she started the car and drove the couple of hundred yards home.

“Come on, young lady, let’s get you cleaned up. Cup of tea?” she said as we got out of the car. I wanted to die.


*        *        *



To carry guilt and shame every day is an awesome burden. To have it taken from you is indescribable.

I sat in my house; dressed as Maxine, wearing makeup and nail varnish, listening to my parents discuss my future… the whole scenario was surreal. My dad hadn’t exactly been pleased about what had happened, but he didn’t beat me into a pulp either.

“Okay, what the hell do we do?” he asked.

I had decided to say as little as possible, for he could hardly bare to look at me, let alone hear me speak. Try as I might, I know I sounded like a girl, and that wasn’t helpful.

“We have to take this step by step. Max is under seventeen, so legally he needs our consent to do anything, but the first step has to be a visit to the GP.”

“What can he do?”

“The GP will refer the patient to a specialist psychologist who makes an assessment and recommend the best course of action. I’ve been reading up on this, and it seems that is someone is diagnosed with a gender identity problem, they have to live as the opposite gender for a period, during which time they take hormones and only after that period will any surgery be considered, if everyone agrees.”

“Surgery, can’t the psychologist fix him, you know, analyse and make him better?”

“Robert, fixing him is not the answer, it’s finding out what he wants and what he should do, not what we want.”

Dad glared at me. I knew that the fact that no one in Allanford knew us was a help, as he had no real standing in the community yet, so had nothing to be afraid of.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I want what I’ve always wanted, to be a girl.”

“Always? How the fuck would you know?”

“Dad, I knew that I wanted to be a girl when I was four. It has never gone away.”

“Where did we go wrong?” Dad asked Mum.

“We didn’t, it’s all in the wiring, in his genes. Max never asked for this, so don’t be quite so angry with him,” Mum said. Both of them looked tired and upset. I felt another wave of guilt. The tears started again.

“Oh, stop bloody snivelling!” said Dad, but his heart wasn’t in it. In any case, I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to die.

“Tell me something, this guy you went to the cinema with the other night, is he your boyfriend, or what?”

“He’s just a friend,” I said, feeling a little defiant.

“Are you gay?”

“It’s not that easy. I believe I’m a girl, so I like boys as a girl, not as another boy.”

“Hmph, so you admit liking boys? Have you ever kissed one?”

I was silent, but could feel my colour rising.

“Rob! Enough, don’t you think she’s suffered enough?”

“She? In case you didn’t know, Max is a boy. Despite what he looks like at the moment!”

“No Robert, she isn’t, and I don’t think she ever was, despite the body she wears. It’s in her mind. She thinks that she’s a girl, so that’s where we must start. Rather than fixing the mind to fit the body, we will have to get the body to fit the mind. This isn’t going to go away, so we need to get it sorted,” Mum said. I never realised how much she had read.

“And soul,” I added.

“I go back to my question, what the hell do we do now?”


*        *        *



Doctor Graham Prentice was young for a GP, in his early thirties. As we’d just moved to Allanford, we’d registered but never visited him, so we were killing two birds with one stone.

I think he was a bit overwhelmed when the three of us entered his small consulting room on the following morning.

“Ah, so the Barker family, right? Excellent, just moved to the area, yes?”

“That’s right, doctor, but it’s a little more complicated than that,” said Mum, while Dad was trying to look cool and in control. Instead he was looking frazzled and about to blow a fuse.

“Complicated? Let’s see, there Mr Barker, Robert? Yes, I have your notes. Ah, I see you were in the army, good, so you’ll be a lot fitter than most of us civvies, eh?” he chuckled at his idea of humour.  None of us were in the mood for laughing.

“Okay, right, Mrs Barker, Carol, hmm, no problems there. And finally Miss Barker, Max. Oh. Oh dear, ah. I don’t understand, I have here that you have a son?” he looked questioningly at his notes, at me and then at my parents.

“Max is our son. That’s the complication,” said my mother.

I was dressed as Maxine, with makeup and everything, at my mother’s insistence and much to my father’s disgust. I knew I looked like a girl, so could appreciate his problem.

“Ah, oh dear, what a pickle.  Why don’t young Max and I have a little chat by ourselves, eh?” he asked, looking at my parents in turn.

Mum and Dad looked at each other and then, nodding, left the room.

“Right, that’s got them out the way. Why don’t you tell me your story?”

I gave it too him, with both barrels, holding nothing back. I shared about my conviction that I was a girl, my cross dressing, my sexual fantasies, my experiences and my purchases of hormones off the internet. When I’d finished, I felt spent.

“Golly, what a pickle,” he repeated, sucking air through his teeth. “These hormones, you don’t happen to have them with you?”

I delved into my bag and brought out the white tub of capsules, passing them over.

He looked at the bottle, and then examined one of the capsules.

“From America eh? I bet they were quite expensive. This was a bit risky, wasn’t it?”

I shrugged, saying nothing.

“I suppose you were desperate, and often we do silly things in desperation. Still, these aren’t that strong, but they will have certainly blocked your puberty and prevented you from developing into a man. How long have you been taking them?”

“Almost two years.”

“Gosh, that’s rather long, no wonder you look as you do. Best we take a peek at you. Go undress and pop up on the couch.”

The examination was brief, but embarrassing, as he poked and prodded in all those private areas I’d have rather he hadn’t.

“Is your chest tender?” he asked.

“A little.”

“You’re developing breasts. Oh, they aren’t very big yet, but there’s no doubt that your hormones have started some secondary female characteristics. Your build and shape is slender but more female than male. I suspect that your poor old body is completely confused and I shouldn’t think you’ll ever father children.”

“I don’t care about that, but I can’t be a mother, either,” I said.

“No, that’s true. Would you like to be?”

I nodded again.

“Okay, get dressed again; I think I’ve seen all I need to.”

I dressed hurriedly, noticing that I was shaking. When I was dressed, he was sitting behind his desk writing something. He rose from his chair and walked over to the book case, returning with a large directory.

“Tell me how you think we’ll progress?”

“Um, I suppose you’ll refer me to a psychiatrist or something. They will assess to see whether I have a gender problem, and then if they agree, I’ll go on a hormone regime with a view to SRS after a given time.”

“My, you know your onions. That’s absolutely right, except, I don’t see there being an issue whether or not you have a gender problem. I think the only problem is why you were ever born a boy in the first place.”

I smiled, as that was how I saw things.

“I can tell that this has been a little traumatic, and your Dad isn’t happy. Am I right?”

I nodded.

“Right, then best we get him back here and put things straight. Best you leave the talking to me, all right?”

I nodded again, pleased that here was someone who knew what he was doing.

Dad was still looking bewildered and a little lost, while Mum smiled at me. I think she was grateful that the problem was now in someone else’s hands.

“Right, welcome back, Mr and Mrs Barker. I’m sure what I will tell you will come as no surprise, but it all needs saying. Firstly, I have examined your daughter and have come to the following conclusions. One, despite the male body, she appears to be psychologically a girl, so it will be unwise or indeed cruel to perpetuate the lie that she is a boy.

“Second, due to various hormones she has consumed over the past two years, she is more than half way to becoming a girl in the physical sense as well. That is a fact, not just fancy. Yes, she had a normal male body, so there’s no question of her being inter-sexed or a hermaphrodite, but the body is almost more female than male now. She is developing a female shape, including breasts, narrow waist, and I suspect her skeletal structure has changed in line with her hormonal intake. As far as genitalia are concerned, the male parts are almost completely useless, apart from passing urine and getting in the way. Max claims to experienced an occasional erection, and an even more occasional orgasm. I fear that these will become less and less frequent or, to be precise, nil.

“To be frank, the chances of reversing these changes are very low, and in any case, I don’t think she would ever want to. As for now, Max will never be an active male capable of producing fertile sperm sufficient to fertilise an ova, even if she should want to, which, she tells me, she doesn’t.”

My father looked shell-shocked, and I wondered whether that was because the doctor used the female pronoun in respect of me, or at what he had said. He stared at me as if I’d just grown another head. I looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Max, be a sweetie and pop out and read a magazine or something for a while. I need to talk to your parents alone,” the doctor said.


*        *        *


I sat in the waiting room, reading a three month old copy of Cosmopolitan. I haven’t a clue what the doctor said to my parents, but they were in there a long time. Dad was the first to leave, looking ashen and thoughtful. He walked out without a glance in my direction. Mum followed, and I saw her shaking the doctor’s hand.

“Thank you so much, doctor, I just hope some of it goes in,” she said. Then she smiled at me.

“Okay Max, let’s go home.”

The drive home was quiet, in that no one said anything, but it was one of those deafening silences. Dad sighed a lot, sucking air in through his teeth. When we got home, Dad muttered about going to work and drove away. I was left at the front door watching him go. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or not.

Mum and I had a quiet lunch of sandwiches and doughnuts.

“What did the doctor say, Mum?”

“He spelt things out to your father, just that you weren’t a boy and never really had been. He told him about transsexuals and what was going to happen. He also told him what would happen if he made you stay a boy. I think that frightened him more that the first thing.”

“I’m sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to upset everything,” I said, feeling the tears returning.

“I know sweetie, I know. Your father still loves you, but he’s confused. I think he thinks it might be his fault, somehow, but the doctor was very clear about that.  He needs some time to think things through. The doctor said that you need as much support and help as we can give, and I think that’s made your Dad think too, as he was thinking more about himself than you.”

“I wish I didn’t feel like this, but I can’t help it,” I said.

“These things happen, Maxie, but we just never thought it would happen to us, so we’re a bit unprepared.”

“I have to walk the dogs,” I said, realising what the time was. Fortunately, the morning dog walks weren’t required today, but I still had my afternoon ones to do.

“Can’t someone else do it?” she asked.

“No, there’s just me and Becca this week, and Becca is doing Gordon’s and I’m doing Greg’s.”

“Okay, best you go, and be careful.”

It was a blessed relief to go out into the park, and I gave the dogs a good twenty minutes each extra. I didn’t want to go home, as I was a little afraid of my father. I saw Becca in the distance so I waved. She was chasing a German Shepherd that had slipped it’s lead. I went to help, but by the time I covered half the distance a passing cyclist had helped so she was fine. I resumed my walk.

Dad still wasn’t home when I got back, so I went up to my room, lay on my bed and read a book for a while. I didn’t feel like logging onto the internet, as I had enough to think about without extra hassle.

I heard him come in, but decided to stay in my room. I then heard raised voices in the kitchen and lots of shushing noises by my Mum. I smiled, but was still apprehensive. A little later there was a knock on my door.

“Max, it’s your Dad, can I come in?”

I got off the bed and opened the door. I was still wearing a skirt and pink top.

He looked at me for a while, and then placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Maxie, I just didn’t understand. In fact, I still don’t have a clue what the hell is going on, but I think I’m able to deal with it now. Why don’t you sit down, as I want to speak to you about some stuff?”

I sat on the bed, keeping my knees together. He pulled out my computer chair and sat down, sighing as he did so.

“This sort of took me by surprise, and I thought that there wasn’t much in life that could do that. I was wrong,” he said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, dad, I didn’t mean to…”

He held a hand up, stopping me.

“No, Maxie, it’s me that’s sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t more accepting. I’m sorry I was so wrapped up in myself not to think about what you were going through, and I’m just sorry for being an arsehole about all this. I can’t pretend that I like it, but I’m still your Dad and I still love you. It’s just taking a while for me to get used to all this,” he said waving at me to indicate the clothes and make up.

“Do you want me to take it off?” I asked, standing up.

“No, the doctor said that you should get used to being a normal sixteen year old, just a sixteen year old girl and not a boy. He said that you need to feel at home with who you are and that if you are forced to be something you hate, that could cause more problems. I hate to admit it, Max, but you look a hell of a lot better as a girl than you ever did as a boy. I’m just amazed that neither of us could see what was under our noses.”

I smiled a little.

“Max, can you forgive me?” he asked.

He opened his arms and I ran to him, hugging him for all I was worth. We both cried together for the first time.


*        *        *



I awoke the next morning with a weight lifted from me. I no longer had to pretend. I dressed as a girl from the moment I awoke and went through the day without a care in the world.

I was so much more relaxed and happy that I was up at half past seven and had breakfast with my parents for the first time in ages. When Mum went to work, I cleaned the house and then did my morning walks. It was a lovely day, so I bought myself some sandwiches and sat by the lake to eat them.

“Hi Maxine,” said a voice. It was Gordon.

“Oh, hello, when did you get back?” I said.

“Late last night. I thought I’d find you here.”

“Oh, how come?”

“Nice day, pretty girl, it stands to reason,” he said, grinning. I simply blushed as he sat on the grass next to me.

“So what’s happened while I was away?”

“Not a lot,” I lied. “How was your holiday?”

“It was okay, but bloody hot.”

“Where did you go?”

“Dad’s got a villa on a Greek island, so we always go there. It was much hotter this year.”

“Weren’t there some forest fires?”

“Not on this island. Are you going away?”

“Nah, we can’t afford it this year. Dad’s business folded so he had to get another job, so with all the move and stuff, were a bit short at the moment.”

“I’m sorry, it must be awful,” he said.

I smiled. “It’s okay, there’s just me at home, as both my parents work. So I suppose we might get a holiday next year.”

“You should have said. We had enough room and so you could have come with us,” he said.

I blushed again.

“That’s sweet of you, but perhaps another time.”

“Have you thought any more about Allanford College?”

“I told my Dad, but he’s a lot on his mind at the moment. To be honest, things are a bit tricky at home at the moment, so I’ll leave it and see what happens.”

“Okay. Well, I’d better go, I’ve to walk Randy the Ridgeback in ten minutes and he’s an utter sod. I’ll see you later, look are you doing anything tonight?”

I ached to go out with him again, but common sense prevailed.

“Yes, we’ve got a family meal arranged, perhaps another time?” I said.

“Okay, I’ll see you,” he said, turning away.

No kiss this time? I thought.

It was as if he heard me, for he turned back and kissed me on the lips.

“See ya!” he said and jogged away.

Okay smart-ass, how the hell do you tell him?

Do I need to tell him?

Oh shit, I suppose I do.

Not yet anyway.


*        *        *


Doctor Prentice worked fast, arranging for me to meet the psychologist the following week. I dreaded the meeting, having read about some horror stories on the internet.  Obviously things had changed since those incidents, for Kathy Ellis was sweetness and light.

I went through my story for her, and she simply smiled and asked a few questions. I’d gone dressed as a girl, as it was all I knew now. She asked me how long I’d been living as a girl, appearing surprised when I told her it was just a few weeks.

“You seem very relaxed and natural, why do you think that is?” she asked.

“I suppose because I don’t have to pretend as a girl. Being a boy just seemed wrong, all the time. Now I just get to be me without any pretence at all.”

“Do you worry about being found out?”

“Not really, as I know I look like a girl. Sometimes I worry that is I get close to a boy, he might find out, but I try to be careful.”

Again, she seemed surprised.

“Do you have a particular boy in mind?”

“There is one boy. We’ve gone out together once, and I know he fancies me, so it makes things complicated.”

“How do you know he fancies you?”

“He got a hard-on when we kissed.”

This time her eyebrows nearly took off.

“My, you have been a bit keen to live the life, haven’t you?”

I shrugged. “It just happened. I don’t think I did anything to encourage him.”

“Did you like it?”

”What the kiss or his hard-on?”

“The kiss, as I hope you didn’t do anything about the latter.”

I smiled slightly.

“I liked it. I just wanted to be a real girl for him.”

“If you had been, would you have had sex?”

“Not on a first date, but I have thought about it.”

“Okay, so there’s no doubt about your sexual orientation. Can I ask if you ever had a gay experience?”

“As a boy or a girl?” I asked, genuinely confused.

She smiled again.

“As a boy, with a boy.”

“Eugh, no thanks.” I said.

“How about a gay fantasy, with you taking a passive role?”

I said nothing but blushed.

“I see; so was that recently?”

“It was after the hard-on incident. I fantasised about him, you know, with my bottom,” I said, feeling shame again.

“If you could be an almost perfect girl, except keep your male genitals, or lose them and have a vagina, which would you select?”

“A vagina, any day,” I said without hesitation.

“Have you ever had a sexual experience with a girl?”

“No, and I wouldn’t want to, thanks.”

“I want to talk about your hormones. Why did you take them instead of going to the doctor?”

“I didn’t want my parents to find out. Besides, I’d read about which ones and took on-line advice.”

“That was still very dangerous, you were lucky you didn’t harm yourself.”

“I just had to stop becoming a man, it was the only thing I could do at the time.”

She asked me some more questions and finally told me that she was agreeing to my continued hormone treatment, upping the oestrogen and levelling the testosterone blockers.

“I’m satisfied that you fit the criteria, so I’m happy for you to continue with transition.  By the time you’re seventeen, we’ll have an idea as to whether SRS is appropriate or possible.”

“Possible?” I asked, with shock in my voice.

She smiled. “I have to say that, where in your case I can’t see any reason not to. However, things and people change, so we won’t rush into this, okay?”

I wasn’t happy but agreed. I wanted the surgery now, not sometime in the distant future.

“One last thing. The doctor can remove your testicles before the SRS, but only if they’ve been irreversibly damaged by the hormone treatment and if both you and your parents agree.”

“I agree!” I said, rather too quickly.

She smiled again, making a note on my sheet.

“We’ll be in touch.”


*        *        *



The next bombshell landed the following afternoon. I’d been trying to work out whether to tell Gordon about me, and then how I could do it without him hating me. It was virtually impossible, and despite him trying to see me as often as he could, there didn’t see any way I could tell him. I was just so afraid of the consequences.  I now understood a little of what other TGirls said on the Internet.

I was walking Hamish, so had just the one animal to deal with.  I was throwing a tennis ball for him on a wide open piece of land, once I’d checked that no other living creature was within sight. Suddenly, he lost interest in the ball and took off towards something behind me. Spinning round I saw Gordon with a Golden retriever on a lead.

Strangely, Hamish didn’t attack, but wagged his stumpy tail and looked as if he could play with the bigger dog.

“It’s okay, they know each other,” Gordon told me.  I relaxed slightly.

“I thought there’d be a fight,” I said.

“Nah, they’re fine together.”

“What brings you here; this is a bit off your patch, isn’t it?” I asked, knowing that he lived on the other side of town and rarely used this park.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted, and looked a little uneasy. My heart sank.


“Maxine, this is hard for me to say, and I may be making a right cock of myself, so please don’t get cross, but I really need to clear something up.”

“What?” I asked, feeling a sense of dread. What was he going to ask?

“I’m not really sure how to put this, and I really don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but, well, Max, are you really a boy?”


My head started to spin and my legs went all wobbly, so I simply sat on the damp grass.

“Max, are you okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Not really,” I admitted. “Why did you ask that?”

“My neighbour is a teacher at Allanford Modern, and she has Max Barker down to start next term. I said that I knew you and so she asked, ‘What’s he like?’ That got me thinking, and well, one or two little things made me wonder. Are you that Max Barker?”

“Little things?” I asked, wondering what gave me away.

“Like your reaction to being kissed and your reluctance to have me walk you home.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s all.”

I looked out across the lake. Well, here goes, I thought, bite the bullet.

“Yes, Gordon, I am. But I’m actually transgendered and going through transition. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I was working out how to. I never intended to get close to anyone, and as I only told my parents recently, it’s all been confusing and difficult.”

There, I’d told the truth. Now I waited for the reaction.

He surprised me by sitting down on the grass beside me.

“Transition? Cool! What’s it like?”

“Huh?” I was completely lost for words. I’d expected ridicule, disgust and anger, but not this.

“What’s it like? I take it you’re taking hormones?”

“Yes, and I’m not sure what it’s like, really. It’s just.. well, it’s just what’s happening. I occasionally feel strange, but usually I feel okay. You’re not angry?”

“I was a little, when I first thought about it, but you look so great, I knew there was no way you could be a guy.”

“And now you know I am?”

“You’re not really. I looked at some stuff on the internet, so all you’re really doing is making your body fit who you are, aren’t you?”

I stared at him in something akin to shock.

“You kissed me, and you don’t mind?” I asked.

“Hell, it bothered me at first, but look at yourself, you’re a girl. Besides, I just wondered what it felt like for you. Was that your first kiss with a guy?”

“It was my first kiss ever,” I admitted.

“Like it?”

I blushed and nodded.

Suddenly I felt his lips against mine.

“That’s just to show there’re no hard feelings. Mind you, if you looked like a bloke, I’d never have done it in the first place.”

“If I looked like a bloke, I’d never have let you,” I countered.

For a moment neither of us said anything.

“What happens now?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I was planning to see if you’d go out with me again, but then this happened.”

“So?” I asked, feeling the tears well up behind my eyes.

“Movie and a pizza again?” he asked, looking at me.

“You st.. still want to go out with me?”

“Why not?”

“I’m a guy,” I said.

“Nah, you’re not really. Besides, I’m curious about stuff and, hell, you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

“So, I’m a curiosity?” I asked, feeling a little anger rise.

“You’ve got it wrong, you’re uniquely different, and I find I want to get to know the real you. I take it no one else knows?”

“Just my parents and my doctor.”

“That’s cool. Heck, I won’t tell anyone, as I’ve a reputation to think about,” he said, teasing me.

“Look, I don’t want to embarrass you, you don’t have to be nice to me, just for the sake of it. I do understand.”

He leant across and kissed me again.

“No, you haven’t a bloody clue. I found a stunning girl and fancied her rotten, so despite what you were, I want to get to know the girl that will be. Is that okay with you?”

Numbly I nodded. Things like this don’t happen to Tgirls like me, so what’s the catch?

“So which movie?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” I replied, honestly.

“This evening?”

I nodded again. “If you’re sure?”

“Yeah, shit, this could be exciting,” he said, grinning.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said.


“Are you gay or bi?”

“Not that I know, why?”

“I’m a guy, remember?”

He stood up.

“No, Maxine, you’re not. Just take a look at yourself, okay? See you at six at the cinema.”

He was gone, leaving me with a damp arse and tears of joy rolling down my face.


*        *        *



When I finally got home at around ten, my parents looked worried. I had called them to say I was going to a film and a meal, but that didn’t seem to stop them worrying.

“Are you all right?” my dad asked.

“Fine, you?” I asked.

“You’re a bit late,” Mum said.

I looked at the clock.

“It’s only ten-fifteen, what’s the problem?”

They looked at each other.

“Oh, come on. Just because I look like this, you’re putting restrictions on me? When I was Max, you didn’t worry half as much.”

“It’s not restrictions, it’s just we feel you’re more vulnerable, that’s all,” Dad said.

“I was fine, and besides Gordon walked me home.”


“My friend.”

“Boyfriend?” Dad asked, his voice going up a full octave.

“He’s a boy and a friend. We didn’t have sex if that’s what you meant!”

“Maxine, that’s enough,” said Mum, going red.

“Well, this is silly. I’m the same person.”

“No, Maxine, you aren’t, and that’s the point. There is a hell of a lot at stake here, so we just want you to be safe.”

“I was safe, but thanks.”

“What would have happened if this boy found out the truth?” Dad asked.

“He already knows,” I admitted.

“You told him?” he said, almost reaching soprano.

“No, a teacher from my new school lives next door to him and she told him I was a boy. He sought me out, challenged me and I admitted it. He’s cool with it.”

“Cool with it?” Mum asked.

“Mum, he’s fine, it’s no big deal.”

“Is he gay?”

“No, why the hell should he be? He sees me as a girl.”

Dad looked about ready to explode.

“How dare that teacher? Bloody hell, first thing tomorrow I’m going to raise merry hell with that fucking school! I don’t believe it!”

“Calm down, Rob, but I think we need to rethink schools in that case,” said Mum.

“Allanford College looks good, and they have a policy of non-discrimination to transgendered people,” I said, guessing.

“Hmm, I’ll go see them this morning, once I’ve taken you off the list at the other school.”

“By the way, Doctor Prentice called me this afternoon, he wants you to go in for day surgery on Monday. It sounded a bit final to me,” Mum said. Dad looked a bit helpless.

“Okay, thanks.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, once you have them off, there’s no turning back?” he asked.

“I’m sure. If I could have the rest done, I’d do it tomorrow.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mum asked.

“What’s to say? I just want to get the whole lot over and done with. Would it be any quicker if I went to Thailand?” I asked.

“You still need a referral from the doctors here, and besides, where the hell would we find that kind of money?” Dad said, with a sad smile.

“You’re that committed?” Mum asked.



*        *        *


I lay awake for ages that night, thinking at first about Gordon at the cinema. Initially, I felt he was slightly distant, but half way through the film he wrapped an arm across my shoulders and let me snuggle in close to him. That was all I needed. We did kiss, but I wasn’t that bothered. During the meal, we talked of so many things, mainly about me and what I was doing.

“I think you must have so much balls,” he said.

“Not for much longer,” I said, and had to explain.

It had been fun, but I was still wary as to why he wanted to remain so close with me. 

For much of the night I lay awake thinking about Monday.


Why the hell couldn’t they take everything away?

I just wanted to be a girl as quickly as possible, so this waiting around was simply frustrating in the extreme.

I dozed off in the small hours.


*        *        *



They gave me a local anaesthetic, but I think I went to sleep. Anyway, I came round on one of the day-care beds, feeling tender down below. My parents were both close by. Mum was seated in the chair reading a book and Dad was staring out of the window.

“Ah, back with us again. How do you feel, sweetie?” Mum asked.

“Okay, I think.”

Dad smiled at me, I thought a bit sadly.

“Never mind Dad, it’s what I want.”

“If you say so. It seems a bit drastic to me. Anyway, your results arrived,” he said, holding up an envelope.

My exam results! I’d forgotten all about them.

“How did I do?”

“I haven’t opened it. You do it,” he said, handing me the envelope.

Nervously, I opened it and looked at the sheet of paper.

“Well?” they both chorused.

“Seven As and three Bs, oh and two A stars.”

“What were the Bs in?”

“Spanish, Chemistry and Physics.”

“And the A stars?”

“English and social studies.”

“Shit, girl, you’re a bloody genius!” said my dad, hugging me. I liked it when he registered my gender correctly.

“Will that be enough to get me to the college?” I asked.

“Possibly. I’m going to see them this afternoon. I’ll take that with me,” said my dad.

At that moment the specialist entered the room. He was a surgeon that Dr Prentice had referred me to for this little op.

“How are you?”

“Okay, I think.”

“Well, you seem fine. I think you were right to do this as what you had were virtually defunct and left much longer would have caused you problems.  I suppose I may see you in a few months for the vaginoplasty, eh?”

“Unless you feel like doing it now?” I joked.

“The time will go quickly, I can assure you.”

I wasn’t convinced.


*        *        *


I was allowed home at tea time, and Mum waited with me until that time. Dad went off to the college armed with my results and a letter from the doctor about my gender difficulties. When I saw him again at supper, he told me that I had to go with him in two days for an interview.

“As a boy or a girl?” I asked.

“Maxie, I may not like it, but let’s face it, you’re a girl now. Okay?”

I nodded and grinned.

After supper the door bell sounded. Mum answered it and came back in.

“Maxie, it’s for you,” she announced, opening the door for Gordon.

“Gordon, what are you doing here?” I asked, pleased, embarrassed and confused all at the same time.

“I just wanted to see how you got on, oh and these are for you,” he said, handing me a bunch of flowers. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got lots.”

I cried as I looked at them. I’d never received flowers before, and they looked and smelled lovely.

“Thanks,” I stammered, handing them to my mother, who went to the kitchen to put them in water.

“I did your dogs, as I didn’t think you’d manage it,” he said.


“Will you be able to do tomorrow?”

“I should be able to.”


There was an uneasy silence, and my Dad looked more uncomfortable than Gordon.

“I’ll go help your mother,” said Dad, who’d never done anything with a flower in his life.

“So, what’s it like?” Gordon asked when he’d gone.

“Gordon, you’re a perv!”

He chuckled.

“I read about this thing you can do with superglue. Apparently it makes it look just like a girl’s thing,” he said.

“Oh and I suppose you want to help?” I asked, sarcastically.

“If you like,” he teased.

Still, he’d intrigued me.

He stayed for a few more minutes and then said he had to get home. His visit made me feel better. I immediately searched for what he had talked about. It took some looking, but eventually I found an article where a TGirl stuck her useless skin together to form the external appearance of a woman. There were some ‘how to’ pictures, so I decided to buy some glue and try it out.


*        *        *



What a fucking mess!

I stuck everything to everything else, except what I wanted to stick. I also needed four pairs of hands. I had to sit naked in the bath and use copious amounts of hot water to release myself and started again.

Eventually, I sort of did it. Certainly, it would pass a casual observation if I was ever caught without panties in a public place. When I peed, the spray went everywhere, so I had to sit and take extra care when going to the loo. I didn’t tell either of my parents, as I thought they’d not understand. Mum might, but I knew Dad wouldn’t.

I went with Dad to the college and met Mr Kendall the Head. He was immediately surprised when I walked in, as I dressed in a smart skirt with a blouse, tights and sensible, low heeled shoes. I’d put only a little makeup on, and tried to look demure and as feminine as possible.

Dad was clearly embarrassed and avoided using the female pronoun to start with, but as the interview went on, he forgot and always called me her and she.

Once we’d got the gender problem aired, and I could see the man was clearly relieved that I was so obviously feminine, we moved onto changing, toilet arrangements and sports.

“You don’t look transgendered,” he said.

“Oh, how many transgendered people have you at the college at the moment," I asked.

“Er, none, yet.”

“Then what am I supposed to look like?”

I’d clearly embarrassed him, so he shuffled his papers a bit.

“I have to ask, what arrangements would you like?”

“Why can’t I use the ladies, just like I do everywhere else?”

“If some people found out that…”

I got cross.

“What, that I used to be a boy? What can I do to them? I’m not a functioning male any more, and very soon, I’ll be a functioning female, so what do you expect of me? I’m hardly likely to grope anyone, am I?”

He looked rather alarmed, so I apologised.

“I’m sorry, but the ladies have cubicles, don’t they?”

“Un, yes, they do.”

“Then I will use a cubicle. I have to sit down to pee anyway.”

“Very well, now about sports?”

“Um, Maxie isn’t what you call sporty,” said my father rather apologetically.

“Only because I was always made to play boy’s games. I’ve always loved swimming and badminton,” I suggested,

We agreed in principle that I could swim and play badminton, and I was given permission to use the girls’ changing room.

We moved on, to my great relief, to my choice of subjects for A level. I selected English, psychology and sociology, and this seemed to please him.

At the conclusion of the interview, he shook me by the hand.

“Thank you for choosing our college, and thank you for opening my eyes to an issue that I’d not really considered and find that I’m woefully ill-prepared to deal with. I hope we can work together to write the policy for transgendered students for the future?”

“I’d like that, and I’m sorry I was a bit defensive.”

He held both hands up and smiled.

“I really do understand why. I will not mention to anyone other than the board of governors that we have a transgendered student. I’d ask you to try to do the same. If there’s an issue, we will deal with it together, agreed?”

I agreed.

I was in!


*        *        *



My friend on the bus had been right. I was fine. So, as the bus pulled into the stop, I stepped off and found myself entering the college as a student for the first time.

“Maxine, wait up!”

I turned and saw Gordon running across the grass towards me.

“Hi,” I said, feeling slightly vulnerable.  We’d been out together the night before and, well, all I’ll say is we knew each other a lot better now.  I’d shown him what I looked like down there and he’d told me it looked just like the real thing. I didn’t ask how he knew. I was under no illusions, so I was content to take things a day at a time.

Oh yes, and I gave my first blow-job.

I smiled.

“Let me show you the way,” he said, holding out his hand. I took it and I followed, willingly.


*        *        *



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