Monday, October 14
I'm starting to bore myself and get anxiety fits all at the same time.
First the boring part. The rest of my weekend was a full-tilt bore. I told Mom I'd really like to get another golf outfit and maybe some tennis outfits as well. She said it was nearly the end of both seasons, and rainy season was nearly here, but I assured her that the driving range at Carlos' Dad's club was open nearly year round, and I'd like to `bone up' (yes, I really used that term) on my technique before Spring. Plus, I knew a nice indoor tennis court where I could start practicing, again for Spring and maybe playing competitively. She just nodded, but I could tell she didn't quite know what to think about my new-found love for sports.
And then the semi-boring parts. Emma-R had turned into a full-tilt NAZI over this Halloween booth. First, we all had the costumes down pat -- except for Randi, we'd wear matching black long-sleeve dancer leotards, see-thru black tights, black kitten ear headbands, appropriate makeup, etc. Randi was insistent she's come as actual Puss-n-Boots from the movies, which was very cool. The real problem was the booth. Somehow, we didn't think that thru. Brie, in one of her rancid moods, suggested a gigantic litter box. Finally -- and I don't know who came up with this idea -- we decided to find some really old carpet remnants and build a big, gigantic, enormous, huge scratching post. That was going to take a little engineering, but fortunately every one of the sister--wives had a dad with a shop in his garage and something like a four-wheel drive or truck.
Except for me, of course.
Which, of course, leads me to my anxiety attack. Am I just the `fuck of the week' for Carlos? We've barely been dating, and already his cock has a home in my mouth. I have to admit I enjoyed it, but I'm looking w-a-a-a-a-y down the road (or at least the rest of this year). Yeah, I've fallen hard for him, and I don't have anyone with whom I can discuss this....... My sister wives would think I'm a total whore. Mom would send me off to a convent (monastery? Asylum?) and have Carlos... what.. I don't know... castrated?
I had a session planned for Dr. Strange that afternoon. I had basically lied to him the week before, and figured now may be a good time to `fess up.
The ride from school to Dr. Strange's was almost completely silent. Mom kept asking me if there was anything on my mind, and I repeatedly told her no, and I'm sure she knew I was lying.
When we got to his office, the receptionist told Mom to stay in the waiting room, and escorted me back to a regular exam room. The receptionist told me to take off all (???) of my clothes, including my underwear, put on a dressing gown, and wait on the exam table. I hung everything up on a hanger on the wall, and waited. Finally, two nurses came in (why two?) and took all the normal vitals (weight, height, blood pressure, you know, the usual). Then one of the nurses asked me to stand straight up, and she lifted up my dressing gown to expose my genitals, while the other nurse took a photo (?????). Then, the same nurse asked me to loosen the top of the gown and drop it to my waist. They measured my chest under my boobs, then across the nipple, and took another photo (!!!!!). I finally asked what this was all about, and the nurse simply said that Dr. Preston would explain when I went in to see him. They then told me to put my regular clothes back on, and they would come get me in a few minutes.
I'd barely dressed when there was another knock on the door. The receptionist escorted me down the hall to Dr. Preston's office. I'd been there several times now, and it was less like a clinical setting and more like a comfie den or study. Dr. Preston sat behind his desk, reviewing what I assumed to be my file on his laptop, and then turned to me and asked, "how do you feel?"
What a huge question. Emotionally? Physically? Mentally? "I'm a mess, Dr. Preston."
"Tell me more."
"Physically, I'm OK. I'm on the hormones you prescribed and nothing seems to have changed. Of course, I've only been on estrogen for a week, so there's that."
"Mentally and emotionally? Wow.... Maybe I need to explain..."
I proceeded to verbally vomit the story of my life for the last month, from the sisterwives, to the camping trip, to Carlos, to our furtive liaison in my basement last week, to my `golf lessons' this past weekend. I told him that I was physically fine with where our relationship was going, but mentally massively concerned at the idea we might end.
Dr. Preston took notes, and finally said, "Christy, you re not my first teen patient, although most of my patients are older. The hormones you're taking will generally suppress your sex drive, and as we discussed last week, you have an excess of estrogen in your system anyway, so you have only a fraction of the sex drive of a biological boy or even a pubescent girl. Girls, by the way, or what you would call cis-girls', generally have their sex drives tamped down by social factors and the discomfort of their monthly periods. However, many trans-girls see their new roles as liberating, and in fact find themselves driven by their libidos. Of course, your boyfriend, Carlos, is a 16 year old boy and is driven hormonally and even culturally to stick his penis' into anything that moves. If boys that age do not masturbate daily, they will nearly go insane. That said, if boys that age find a willing and desirable sex partner, they can become imprinted on that partner almost like a duckling to its mother."
"Christy," he went on, "I cannot condone your sexual behavior, because, let's face it, you are 14 years old..."
"...almost 15..."
"Fourteen, and while your partner is barely two years older than you..."
"... a year and a half..."
"Two years... your emotional state isn't nearly what you think it is. Christy, do you masturbate?"
I told him about my pillow, and the little toy I had, and how I used it the same way a girl would use it.
He just made some notes, and then said, "have you given any more thought to preserving some sperm in case you want to pass on your biological heritage to a child? You have good genes, you know, and as someone once said, your genes don't belong to you, they belong to humanity."
I had thought about what he said, and was teetering one way or the other when I showed up to the appointment. I had actually packed my little toy in my purse, just in case I decided to say yes, knowing that it would put me in the mindset."
"Yes, Dr. Preston. I'd like to do that."
"Fine. I'm going to have the nurse take you to a private room we have reserved for just that. You can take all the time you want. Do you need anything?
"No, sir."
"OK, when you're done, just let the nurse know, and then you and your mother should come back in here to see me."
The nurse came in and led me to a private, windowless room down the hall, and handed me a little plastic specimen' cup, much like a smaller version of a urine sample cup. It was a very male-centric room, as if Dr. Preston's typical mail-to-female patients were still in male mode' and still turned on by male-centric vibes. There was a big, comfie leather chair, some girlie magazines, and even a TV with some light-porno videos. I scrolled thru the videos, and amazingly enough found one of the oral-oriented videos I had seen before. It was about 10 minutes long, and I settled into the chair with a tissue to clean up, the specimen cup, and my little rubber toy out of my purse.
The star of the video seemed to be enjoying herself, and much like my golf lesson with Carlos, she greeted her man by sitting on the edge of a bed, looking him lovingly in the eyes. I started nursing on my toy, like a really big pacifier, and slowly imagined myself in her role. Instead of Carlos' cock, my hand reached down to my own crotch, and I could feel a bit of an erection emerging. I usually didn't get erections in this pose', and in fact hardly ever got erections at all, but I hiked up my khaki school skirt, pulled down my utilitarian panties, freed my little cock from its soft plastic tucking' cage, and began stroking myself in the rhythm of the video. I found a very sensitive spot, right at the base of my cock above my little scrotum, and focused my fingers' attention there.
After a while, I could feel myself going into a bit of a trance, and closed my eyes to imagine that Carlos' cock, rather than the toy, was sliding in and out of my mouth. Before long, I felt a rumbling in my genitals, just the same way I had felt it when I mounted my pillows. I did my best to juggle my mental state, my right-hand fingers, and my left hand holding the little cup.
Before long, my little cock began to spasm, and a few shots came out and into the specimen cup. It all felt so clinical, but now I'd satisfied Dr. Preston's requirements. I had a tissue in my hand, and some baby-wipes were on the dresser next to the chair. I popped the lid on the specimen cup, cleaned myself up, and mashed the button on the dresser to signal the nurse that this little exercise was done. Frankly, I felt dirty by the whole experience.
She came to the door and said that Dr. Preston wanted to meet with me and Mom. I went back to his office. Mom came in shortly, followed by Dr. Preston. He said, "Ms. Dancer, your daughter is slowly developing breasts, and this is probably the result of the residual estrogen in her system and not the hormones I put her on. She already has a two centimeter growth in breast tissue, which is almost an `A' cup bra. Sometime in the next few weeks, she will begin to feel significant discomfort in her breasts, and this growth will accelerated. Ms. Dancer, I do not mean to embarrass you, but what is your breast size -- cup size, that is? And more to the point, what was your breast size in high school?"
Mom did not seem to be very disturbed by this, and said, "Well, Dr. Preston, I'm currently a 36-D, and probably a bit on the large side of that." I was surprised. I thought she was more of a C' cup. "When I left for college, I remember that I was a 34-C, and a very large C' at that. I probably could have worn a `D' cup bra, but didn't."
Dr. Preston just nodded. Then, he asked, "I understand Christy has a sister..."
"Becca, who sometimes wants to be called Becky or Rebecca, depending on her moods."
"Yes, I understand. I have a college age daughter, too. If I may ask, what as the progression of her breast size in high school, if you remember?"
"Becca was, as I best recall, something like a B' cup by the 9th grade, and eventually a full C' like me by the time she went off to college."
"Yes, well, given Christy's pre-transition hormonal state, and the gender affirming hormone treatment we have her on right now, I would expect that she will probably be a full `B' cup by the end of this year. Normally, we wouldn't expect to see that sort of growth, but Christy is a special case, and she will very rapidly take on all of the feminine physical traits she desires."
I was w-a-a-a-a-y overjoyed to hear all that. I was already more-or--less passing as a girl, but only because of the right padding in the right places. What he was telling me was that next summer, when I wore a bikini, that would be real, live cleavage falling over the top of my swimsuit. More than that, sometime in the near future, if Carlos wanted to run his hand up under my shirt, he'd actually find something there.
He went on, "Ms. Dancer, I know you are already seeing me every Monday, and I hate to burden your calendar even more, but I think it is very important that Christy start setting a very specific sex counselor, someone who specializes in male-to-female adolescents who are sexually attracted to persons of the opposite sex."
Mom sat forward in her chair, "I don't really understand."
Dr. Preston said, "Ms. Dancer, I'm a gender therapist, and I deal with gender issues. However, many of my patents are also going thru a sexual awakening and need to get the right sort of counseling to emotionally deal with a situation for which they are not fully socialized by society. In other words, if Christy had been born a girl, she would have grown up with both some gender norms and sexual norms. However, she is now learning both of those, almost like she's having to speed--read a set of text books for which she has little preparation. I can help her with the gender books, but she also needs some help with the sexual side of her psyche, and of course the intersection of those two."
Mom nodded.
Dr. Preston went on, "I know a woman. She is excellent. I highly recommend you call her today. Set something up, and let me know how that turns out."
"By the way, Ms. Dancer, we took a sperm sample from Christy today. If that proves viable, and I should know later today, we will freeze those in case, at some future date, Christy's wishes to pass on her genetic material to an offspring. Despite her unique gender and sexual issues, she has excellent genes, and may wish to be the sperm donor for a child one day."
In the face of all of the other news, Mom didn't totally react to that. However, she thanked Dr. Preston, and we went on our way.
Later, in the car, on the ride home, Mom asked me, "What did you tell Dr. Preston?"
"Nothing special. I just told him how my week was going."
"Is this about Carlos? Are you having sex with Carlos?"
"Yech, Mom. No. I like Carlos, but right now, we're just friends. Heck, he's in drama. He may even be gay." I was, of course, lying thru my teeth, but so be it.
"You'd tell me if you were having sex with him, right?"
"Mom, I'm still a biological boy. I'm not sure what `having sex' would really entail right now. Maybe I'll figure that out."
"Have you kissed him?"
I paused for a very long time. "Yes."
Mom paused for a very long time. "Did you enjoy it?"
After a long pause, I said, "More than anything else I've ever done in my whole life."
Mom sat silently, but I could see a smirk of a smile on her face. "You know, first loves can be fickle and heartbreaking."
"Yes, Mom. I know. But for right now, he's my emotional life preserver."
Mom just sighed...
Mom called the new therapist that Dr. Preston recommended, and said something about an appointment on Thursday. We had dinner almost in silence, because I had a ton of homework and was concentrating on an English quiz for Tuesday. I texted Carlos after dinner, and he texted back that maybe we could go golfing again Saturday. I told him I'd like that.