The Screw Up

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The Screw Up

by Angel O’Hare

© 02-06-2007

 

Ever since I turned 8-years-old, my summers have been spent at various summer camps. Each one lasted all summer, and each one I have never returned. Why you ask? That’s not a simple question to answer though it is a simple enough question to ask. I’ll give a shot though, but I know you’ll laugh.

Um, I’m small and I’m very cute. Those are the two biggest problems I have. At eight, when this first started things weren’t all that bad. I mean, well, being with a bunch of eight-year-old boys can’t be too bad right. WRONG! It is when you look like you’re only four, add being smaller than everyone else, and being ‘cuter’ than everyone else! The teasing starts as soon as the bus leaves the parking lot where my mom and everyone else’s parents are waving goodbye.

It usually starts with the kids asking me why a baby girl is going to their camp. At first I tried explaining that I’m not a girl, and I’m eight-years-old. That doesn’t work, it didn’t back then, and it still hasn’t each and every summer since then. It doesn’t help when you have a “Hello My Name is KIMMIE” sticker stuck on your chest. Yeah, the parents were instructed to write our nicknames on the stickers. Mom, being mom, didn’t think things out to well and wrote KIMMIE on mine. Try and tell kids with names like Bobby, Doug, Butch, Sam, and Leroy, that Kim is actually a boy’s name. That doesn’t work either.

It doesn’t help when the nurse for the camp is our chaperone on the bus and has you sit with her. Especially when she rescues you before things start to get physical by saying.

“You’d better sit with me Pumpkin.”

OH GEEZE, and then the fun will really begin once we get to the camp. You see, I have a growth problem, something to do with endocrinology, that’s all I know. I age one year, for every two years I live. You figure it out! I’m eight-years-old and look as if I’m four! Anyway, it took my mom a lot to get me into this camp. All sorts of paperwork and a special doctors note. Of course, then there is the money involved, most of the kids stay for a four-week session. I stay all summer!

That’s twelve-weeks or three session’s worth. That’s how I really got in, the money the camp makes off of me being there.

Okay, so we arrive and I’m immediately singled out as the ‘special’ kid by the adults, and the ‘little sissy’ by the other kids. The cabin I’m assigned to is quickly changed after my first ‘Nightmare of a night’ to staying in the medical cabin where the nurse can watch over me. It soon becomes apparent that I need to stick close to one of the staff at all times. That is, after I have to return to the medical cabin because I’ve just been stomped on by the ruling class of kids at this camp.

Twelve weeks of being treated like some kind of freak by one and all. The women treat me like a toddler and talk to me that way. The men and boys treat me as if I have an incurable disease or something similar. After the first week, I spend all my time with the women doing what they happen to be in charge of. Yeah, like the well-attended dance instruction sessions. Maybe three boys show up when it rains! On the other hand, try the ever-popular arts and crafts sessions. Once again maybe six kids show up when it rains. I got to make a lot of stuff for my mom! Oh yeah, I made myself a wallet, but my pockets are too small for it to fit in them. Pants for a kid the size of a four-year-old aren’t that big you know.

Okay, one that I did like was swimming, but I was never allowed to really swim as the other boys got to swim. No lake swimming for me, just the pool, where the woman instructor taught swimming and diving. The lake was overseen by a man, and he wasn’t having a little sissy swimming with his boys! At least I learned how to swim well and to learn some great dives! Having one on one attention with a great instructor can do that for you. Therefore, I learned to dance, do arts and crafts, and do a lot of swimming and diving. Oh yeah, having a bed in the medical cabin, with the nurse living in a small apartment attached to it, leads to some wonderful experiences. I’m not even going to get into those!

When I was nine, it was a different camp, but the same results. When I was ten and then eleven, different camps, but the same results each and every time.

Now I’m standing in another parking lot with my mom. I’m twelve now, and mom has promised me this camp is going to be great for me. She said.

“Kimmie, this time I did everything possible to make your summer the best it can be. I’ve planned everything out and went over every detail twice. I got all the forms in ahead of time, included a picture, and everything is all set. This camp provides you with everything you need and that’s why all you need to bring with you is the clothes you are wearing and your book. I even wrote your nickname as KC as you asked me too. Oh, and the great thing about this camp is its co-ed! Of course, the girls stay at one side of the camp and the boys the other, but you do participate in most of the activities together. The letter I received back stated they were very impressed with your knowledge from your experiences at the other camps. They even wrote that they could understand why you had such problems at the other camps and promised that those things would never happen at this one.”

All this was said to me just last night. I have my doubts, but I have no choice either. As part of my mom’s job, she has to travel overseas each summer. That’s why I go to camp. It’s either that or I stay with my grandmother and I don’t even want to go into what that would mean! Let me say that staying in a pup tent during a tornado would be better than that scenario.

 


 

Here we are and there are tons of people here. I would say about sixty kids and their parents. Three buses pull up and a big Hummer SUV. These are nice busses too, not the big yellow school busses, but the ones you see carrying people across the country. They even have a bathroom in these buses.

Of course, they show up an hour and a half late! Mom has to leave and she has a quick chat with an older woman that came out of the Hummer. I get my kiss and my hug as my mom leaves me to await my summer fate all alone. They call for the boys to gather at one part of the parking lot, and the girls at another spot. I see the split is about 50-50. I go to join the boys group and that is where my problems begin, and with no mother to help me. They have my grandmother’s name, address, and phone number in case of an emergency. There can’t be an emergency as bad as that! I just want to add a line to that emergency info card that states. “Only in the case of my death will you notify…” Yeah, she’s that bad, but for the summer, she is my legal guardian!

Anyway, I go to join the boys group and some of the older boys (the camp takes kids up to the age of 16) keep trying to send me over to the girl’s part of the parking lot. To keep out of trouble and from being shoved around anymore I stand to the side and away from the boys group. I hear names being called from both the boys and girls sections. Then I hear…

“Kimberly Caitlyn Amy!”

OH NO, this can’t be happening! They called again and this time they hollered out, “KC AMY!”

Two things are wrong about this. One, they are calling my name out from the girls section. Two, how did they come up with Kimberly from Kim or KC?

I walk over while all the boys are snickering and saying things like.

“That little girl wanted to ride with us?” … “Little baby girls can’t ride with the boys chickadee!”

I just want to shrivel up and disappear! I hear them call my name out as “KC Amy” again and I holler and run over to the woman yelling my name out. She looks at me, shakes her head, and asks.

“Kimmie, you’re twelve-years-old?” OH GEEZE, not this crap again, so much for mom having checked everything twice.

I say.

“My name is Kim Caitlyn Amy, and yes I’m twelve-years-old, but there’s been a mistake.”

Ms Katherine Ringwood says.

“Look little princess, I’ve been working at this camp for over 20 years and have seen it all and heard it all. You don’t look twelve to me, you look more like five, or six, but you’ll have to at least ride with the twelve-year-old girls group to camp until we sort this out. Now go with Lucy and she’ll get you on board.”

This sixteen-year-old girl takes my hand and leads me to the bus as I say.

“Look Lucy, I’m a boy and there’s been a big mistake.”

She laughs and just keeps leading me to the bus. I find myself surrounded by two girls bigger than me. Well, that isn’t a big thing; everyone is bigger than I am! Lucy tells them I’m trying to pull a fast one on them, and the girls make sure I’m sat in the middle of them. There’s no way I’m getting out of this seat until we reach the camp.

Ms Ringwood gets on the bus and it starts rolling once she has made a head count, and she has smiled at me and made sure I wasn’t going anywhere.

I try and tell the girls next to me what had happened, but they think it’s all a joke and giggle like crazy. About a half hour into the trip, some of the girls start passing out drinks. I get a squeeze bottle of cherry juice. One-hundred% fruit juice it says. I drink it, and a few minutes later one of the girls sitting next to me, Kathy says.

“I love your lipstick Kimberly, nice shade of pink.” She giggles; I groan thinking that, yeah, cherry juice, my lips must look great!

There is a lot of singing and chatting going on. I learn a few things. Unlike the other camps I attended, this one requires all the kids to sign up for the entire summer. It also seems that most of the kids have been attending this camp from their earliest opportunity and that’s ten-years-old. Most of these girls have already spent two summers at the camp. I’m a newbie, and what they won’t believe yet, is I’m also a boy! When they find that out, this will be over soon enough.

I have to take a wee thirty minutes after the juice. I tell the girls to let me out so I can go. They signal Ms Ringwood and she takes me to the bathroom. I have to wait until the three girls already waiting go, and I almost don’t make it, GEEZE! I mean that was close! I was doing the pee-pee dance and everything. The girls loved that and the giggles erupted.

I have to sit, the bus wiggles too much to stand, and the seat was a little to high for me to stand and pee anyway. I hear a knock on the door and then the door just opens! In walks Ms Ringwood and she’s holding a bag and pulls out a pull-up! She says.

“Kimberly, several of the girls are already wearing these as a precaution. I noticed a nice big wet spot on your shorts as you opened the door. Now be a good girl and step into these and I have another pair of shorts for you to wear.”

I said.

“Ms Ringwood, get ready for a surprise.” She gives me a funny look and I scoot off of the toilet and stand.

She’s surprised, but only for a second as she says.

“We’ve had little girls with your condition before Kimberly. It’s just a minor medical condition that will be fixed when you are older, now step into the pull-up princess.”

I can’t believe this! I show her I’m a boy in a way that there is no doubt, and she dismisses it as a minor medical condition! What did she mean by they’ve had little girls with this condition before? What kind of camp is this anyway?

Of course, the pull-ups have to be the real girly kind. The ink they are printed with is supposed to disappear when it gets wet, but this pull-up has pink lace designs printed all over it, GEEZE! Once she removes my supposedly too wet shorts and boy’s underpants, I have to step into the pull-up. Once that’s in place, she shows me the shorts I’m supposed to wear. Thin, short-shorts, white ones. They are made of a stretchy material and once they are on me, I want to die! Not only are they thin, they are sheer and you can see the pink lace design on the pull-up clearly. Not only that, but they fit so snug; you can tell I’m obviously wearing a thick pull-up. Something didn’t sound right; I heard a crinkle type sound as she pulled them up my legs. OH FOR Pete’s SAKE, these are lined with clear vinyl! I’m wearing baby diaper pants! I mean, shorts don’t fit like underwear, and these fit just like underwear! No cuffs on the legs or anything, no fly, no buttons. I start to protest and she chuckles and pulls out a stupid slip on, pink skirt with an elastic waist from her bag. I’m stuck now; here I am wearing a girly pull-up, covered by baby diaper pants, and those covered by a pink little girl’s skirt, GEEZE! This skirt fits snug thanks to the thick pull-up and I’m sure it shows, at least it’s long enough to cover everything.

I’m taken by my hand and led back to my seat by Ms Ringwood. As we walk between the rows of girl’s I hear them say.

“She’s a little cutie, but why is a little girl like that, going to our camp? Don’t you have to be at least ten?” I just groan, roll my eyes, and keep walking.

Ms Ringwood has me sit between the two girls again. Kathy and the other one (Bertha) are given a bag by Ms Ringwood and told to pretty me up. I have to sit there and endure two giggling girls, combing and then braiding my hair at the sides into two braided ponytails, they tie pink ribbons too! I don’t look like a twelve-year-old boy at all now. I bet I look like a five-year-old little girl! Lucy makes Bertha change seats with her and Lucy has a bag of her own. This is going to be a LONG bus trip for me!

I’m now being held on Kathy’s lap as Lucy is doing things to me. I have to endure my eyebrows being plucked, because Kathy is holding me still and Lucy has threatened me with removing all of my eyebrows if I don’t stop moving my head back and forth. OUCH, that hurts, GEEZE! She then uses this torture device she says curls my eyelashes and then paints them with this little curved brush thingy. Some clear liquid she says will plump them up and make them look thicker and longer. I tell her my eyelashes are long enough and all she says is.

“I know Kimberly you have lashes to die for! Now they are unbelievably long and very pretty.”

Sure enough, I can see them easily and I just groan. I guess I’m the current project as more girls get in that act. I have to endure other things as they get passed to Lucy to use on me. My lips are painted with this clear liquid, they start to tingle, and I feel them getting puffy! Lucy uses this little brush to paint them with this pink stuff. When that is on long enough, she paints them with this other clear stuff and now my lips feel like they are made of rubber! She tells me they are a shiny wet pink now, GEEZE! To add insult to injury, I’m informed all this stuff is waterproof and long lasting make-up. It should last for a few days before it needs any touch up. Oh, that’s not all either! I hear one of the girls say as she hands Lucy the bottle of stuff that made my lips tingle.

“Hey, she wants to be twelve, let’s do her nipples with this stuff!” This section of the bus goes crazy!

Kathy holds me tight as Lucy lifts up me favorite blue t-shirt and then paints my nipples with this stuff, OH GAWD THAT TINGLES! I even feel them swelling up; they are now still puffing up and are getting puffier than my lips are! I’ll have puffy nipples for a few days and they are already driving me crazy! She had painted just around my nipples as well; right on, my skin and I think I’m having some kind of allergic reaction! My nipples and chest where she painted the stuff on are swelling up past the point of being comfortable. Lucy and the girls are giggling as she pulls my shirt back down. I now have two obvious little bumps under my shirt, and they are driving me crazy!

Kathy tells me.

“When we get to camp and you’re assigned a cabin, just put on one of your bras. That will stop them from tingling or getting sore. They did this to me two-years-ago. I had to go to the nurse’s office so she could clean that stuff off. For some reason it works real well on nipples. My chest never did get any smaller after that day. My nipples stayed that big all summer and then puberty struck and they grew more, but my nipples stayed puffy and are still like that.”

She lifts up her shirt and bra to show me. Sure enough, she has nice small breast, but her nipples are big and puffy. I just groan and roll my eyes. What am I going to do now? Just what I need, puffy nipples, too add to my already girlish looks, GEEZE!

I ask Kathy.

“Um Kathy, what do you mean when we get to camp I can put on one of my bras? I mean like, I don’t have any bras.”

She says.

“Oh sure you do Kimberly, Camp Mari-Mack provides all our clothes and everything else we need. That’s part of why it’s so expensive to go to this camp and why we stay all summer. You’ll be given everything you need. They get our measurements from our parents, and they purchase everything we need and it’s waiting for us when we get to camp. Mrs. Lawrence comes by a few days from now and makes sure everything fits great. Our dresses get marked for altering so they fit better. She has them all done by Saturday, That’s so we all look good going into town for church services and the church social afterwards. We even split up into small groups and visit a few nursing homes. The old people love to have us visit them.”

This is getting worse the more I listen. I find out that the camp has a doctor and two nurses on duty at all times. A registered, licensed, dietician sets our individual diets, vitamins, health shakes, snacks, and all the rest. Now the girls are chatting about what their favorite activities and classes are. Classes, we have to take classes! I hear all about the on site hair and beauty salon. The dance studio, the mini-theatre group, the choral group, the mini-movie theatre, the Olympic sized swimming pool and the swimming meets we have with the towns swim team. Once each month on Saturdays, we have the town’s dances we all have attend. This is going to be a nightmare unless I can get to the boys side of the camp and soon! I tune them out and start to read my book. We get handed a box lunch and another bottle of juice. I get apple juice this time. I’m not that hungry, but I eat the ham and cheese sandwich and drink the juice. I give Bertha, who has now returned my fudge brownie. I get a kiss and a hug for that, GEEZE!

We’re almost to the camp I’m told it’s just a half hour more on the road until we get there. I still have to wee again, so Ms Ringwood takes my hand and we wait in line. Five girls ahead of me and I had forgotten about the waiting. I’ll never last long enough. Ms Ringwood has her big shoulder bag with her again. I have to wet the pull up after just three girls go in and come back out. Ms Ringwood has noticed, and tells me not to worry about it. Finally, we get in the bathroom and she pulls my skirt, baby diaper pants and the now sopping wet pull up down. I’m glad I was wearing those baby diaper pants now! I would have soaked everything! She tears away the wet pull up and washes me down there with baby wipes. GEEZE! they are cold! Then she tells me.

“Kimberly, I’m afraid the pull-up won’t be good enough for your heavy wettings.”

She pulls out of her bag a disposable diaper and a pull-up! She slices holes in the diaper down the middle of it, sprinkles baby powder inside of it, and tapes it around me snuggly. My skirt is pulled up and over it, I have to hold it above my waist. I have to step out of the baby diaper pants because they got a bit wet from the leaking pull-up. I then am made to step into another pull-up and then she puts a clean pair of those baby pants on me, GEEZE!

She says, “Okay Kimberly, you’re all set now and you won’t leak when you go pee-pee again. The diaper holds a lot more than the pull up, and the pull-up adds just that much more absorbency to make sure your clothes stay nice and dry. Once we get you settled into your cabin, I’ll take you over to see the doctor and we’ll get you all set with what you need for nighttime.”

I’m a little confused and say.

“Um, Ms Ringwood, I don’t wet the bed or anything. It’s just that I waited to long to get in line to use the bathroom. I didn’t think it would take so long, and so many girls would be ahead of me. The other camps busses used to stop if you had to wee.”

“Oh Princess, its okay Sweetheart, we have more than a few of the girls with this problem. We’ll let the doctor make that decision okay?”

“Um, okay Ms Ringwood, but this is embarrassing and everyone is going to know I’m diapered now. These things are going to really show under this skirt. The pull up showed and now things are more than twice as thick.”

She chuckled and said.

“Honey, you’re a very pretty girl and you look so cute. The girls are going to love you diapers and all. No one will tease or make fun of you Princess. I bet you get adopted by the older girls straight away. They just love a little cutie-pie like you.”

OH GEEZE, I bet they do, just wait until they notice my extra equipment, we’ll really get to see how they like me then! I just groan and roll my eyes. Ms Ringwood just laughs and leads me out and back to my seat. I do hear the girls all going crazy over me as one of them says.

“Oh she has to stay with us, what a little darling! Look at that waddle! She’s just so cute! We’ll talk to Mrs. Sanford as soon as we get to camp.”

That was a girl sitting next to Lucy. I know this is going to be a very long summer if things don’t get straightened out soon. Kathy tells me that Mrs. Sanford owns the camp. She was that older woman that drove the Hummer. She’s about my grandmother’s age. Old, around sixty I would say!

I feel very self conscious, the diaper and pull-up, plus the baby diaper pants make this skirt shorter, I can’t close my legs and everyone that wants to look can clearly see I’m diapered even when I’m sitting down. All I hear from others is how cute and adorable I am, GEEZE! That, and the stupid pink lacey print shows through the baby diaper pants I’m wearing. I feel miserable. Kathy and Bertha try and cheer me up, but it isn’t working. I just say.

“Look, you two can be happy, you’re not wearing a diaper and baby diaper pants that everyone can obviously see! I’m twelve-years-old for crying out loud. It’s bad enough looking like I do, but now this! I look like a living baby doll ready for everyone else to play with. Um, just leave me alone okay. I just want to disappear off the face of the earth.”

I go back to reading my book. I’m not reading, I can’t I’m to upset to read. I feel the tears start to fall. I HATE MYSELF, GEEZE! I see Bertha get up and go talk to Ms. Ringwood. The next thing I know is I’m being held by Mrs. Ringwood as if I’m just a baby. She hugs me to her and starts whispering to me that everything is going to be all right. She is a big woman, stands about six feet two, and probably weighs like two-hundred-pounds of muscle. She carries me easily and sits down with me still hugging me to her.

My chest hurts and still tingles. I keep trying to push against Ms Ringwood so they aren’t touching her. She keeps holding me tightly and all I can do is whimper. She’s rubbing my back, that’s comforting, but it makes my nipples tingle and hurt even more. I say.

“Ms Ringwood, my chest hurts.”

She sits me back, lifts up my shirt, and lets out a short gasp of surprise. The next thing I know is I have my shirt removed and she is opening a big first aide kit. My nipples are swollen all right, GEEZE! I have very pointy and hard nipples now. They are red not pink and they really stick out! Ms Ringwood smears some cream on them and they immediately start to feel better. I let out a big sigh and she smiles. She puts a pad on each one and then helps me put my shirt back on. I sure do look like I have boobies now!

How will I ever be able to go to the boy’s side of the camp looking like this? I know I won’t, and that makes me feel helpless and alone. I’m snuggled against Ms Ringwood my head buried in her neck while she’s rubbing my back. The bus slows; I hear a cheer go up in the bus. I look out the window, and watch as we pull in and the boy’s busses keeps going bye. They got two busses because the boys had brought a bunch of stuff with them, mostly sporting equipment, but enough of it to need another bus. The bus stops and the doors open.

There are five women waiting, three have clipboards and start calling out names. Ms Ringwood carries me over to whom I now know as Mrs. Sanford. The woman next to her is the doctor, she takes a peak at my chest, and we four go into the infirmary. Well, that’s what the doctor called it anyway.

I’m soon sitting there in just the diaper, covered by the pull-up and the baby diaper pants. Soon those are removed and I’m naked in front of these three women. My life is getting worse all the time. At least a nurse walks in and covers me with a sheet. I thank her; the others just smile at me. Mrs. Sanford uses her cell phone and calls someone. I can’t hear what she’s saying. The doctor gets my file and Ms Ringwood leaves, giving me a hug and a kiss before she goes telling me everything will be okay.

A nurse comes in and introduces herself to me as Cindy. I tell her my name is ‘KC’, she smiles and calls me KC. I like her already. She washes me up, gives me a complete bed bath as she chats non-stop about all sorts of stuff. I whimper a bit as she washes my chest. She says.

“We’re going to make you feel much better KC. By the time we’re through, you’ll feel much better about staying here and being one of the girls.”

“Um, Nurse Cindy, I’m a boy, can’t you tell?” I thought that was funny, since when she said that she was washing my thingy. I giggled, and then she giggled and then said.

“KC, we are going to make this tiny abnormality vanish Sweetheart. You’re grandmother is talking to Mrs. Sanford and the doctor right now. We have all your pertinent medical history, and soon, this little thing will just be a memory.”

“Um, you’re not going to cut it off are you?”

She giggles and says.

“No, no, Sweetheart, we’re just going to tuck it away and hide it. By the time the doctor is through though, you’ll look like all the other little girls here. I think you’re the prettiest of them all though.”

I blushed I couldn’t help it! I then realize I’m stuck here as a girl for the entire summer. I also worry about what grandmother is telling them. You see, we don’t get along to well because she always treats me like a little girl. She insists I’m supposed to be a girl and whenever I’m over at her house, I have to dress and act that way. To keep the peace between her and my mom, I agreed with my mom I would go along with it. I hate it, but I go along with it and that way they are both very happy. Grandmother always calls me Kimberly, no matter where we are or how I’m dressed. I cringe every time she visits us. I have to stay in the house and that’s not even safe! My mom goes to work and Grandma takes me shopping and to the hair salon! By the time mom gets home from work, Kimberly is back. Complete with a new girly party dress, and everything that goes on under them.

I mean it’s so embarrassing because all the salespeople know who I am and what I am. They just smile and treat me like a little girl. It’s enough to make you want to scream! Mom comes home and until grandmother leaves again, I’m stuck as mom’s pretty-little girl Kimberly. I’m the outcast of my town and school by the kids. Most of them think I’m a little girl pretending to be a boy. I have a few girl-friends (I separated that word on purpose) and they all want me to be a girl and so do their mother’s. I can’t win!

Oh, here’s Mrs. Sanford and the doctor. Mrs. Sanford says.

“Kimberly, everything is all set Princess. You have nothing further to worry about. We will be fixing your little problem and you will be able to join your group in a few hours. Now you do what Dr. Susan tells you and I’ll see you again in a little while.”

She gives me a hug and a kiss on my lips. My lips still feel like puffy pieces of rubber, GEEZE! After she leaves, Dr. Susan introduces herself to me and I tell her my name is KC. She chuckles and says.

“KC, once I’ve completed this little procedure, you’ll be much more comfortable being called Kimmie or Kimberly than KC. I’ll be calling you Kimberly as will all the staff here.”

She looks right at Nurse Cindy when she said that. I see Nurse Cindy nod and then leave. Another Nurse comes in then. She isn’t as pretty as Cindy is and she looks kind of serious to kind of mean if you ask me. She says.

“Kimberly, I’m PA Bonnie, that means I’m a Physicians Assistant. I’m not a doctor, but I am much more than a nurse. Once Dr. Susan has completed the procedure, I’ll be the one you see for any further treatment or care if you need any. Now, what Dr. Susan or I say, is law around here! So if we write special orders for you, they WILL be followed to the letter. There will be no arguing, deal making, or not doing what we order. Do you understand me Kimberly?”

“Um, yes ma’am, but what would you guys order that I would argue about or not want to do?”

“Maybe nothing at all Kimberly, but, I just need you to understand the rules okay?”

“Um, yes ma’am.”

Dr. Susan gives me a hug and says.

“Okay Kimberly, now I’m going to give you a shot that is going to make you go to sleep for a little while. When you wake up, you’ll look like a girl everywhere and really by Kimberly. Now just relax and roll on your side. That’s a good little girl.”

I feel a cold swipe of something on my bottom cheek and then a needle stick. It isn’t too bad, and I start getting sleepy a few minutes later. I’m really getting groggy and woozy as I feel someone spreading my legs apart and putting my feet into something. They bend my knees and I’m spread wide open as they secure my legs and feet with straps. I feel someone washing me between my legs with something cold and it smells funny, like a very strong medicinal soap. I’m very woozy now, and barely awake, when I hear the doctor say.

“Time to numb the area Bonnie, use the special mix for Kimberly, 50ccs in the penis body and 50 more in the scrotal sac at each testicular sphere. We’ll use the groin patch after the procedures are completed. She’ll be able to be fully active in a few hours.”

I’m in and out, not fully asleep, but not awake enough to know what’s actually going on. I do feel three needle sticks though and they hurt badly, but I can’t react. I’m sort of immobile and in another world.

I feel pressure down there and sort of hear things, but nothing makes sense to me. I found out later, but for your information, I add what was actually said and done here. PA Bonnie says.

“Susan, these testicles are so tiny they pose no problem at all.” Susan answers.

“Yes, they will be very easy to remove with no bruising. I’m going to remove the entire scrotal contents, no sense in making things complicated. We might as well prepare the penis shaft for bodily assimilation. If you will treat the head with the solution now, it will be ready for me to form her clitoris by the time I’m through forming the labia minor from her scrotum. We will inject the forming gel into the outer groin area to form the Labia major. She’ll look cute as a button down here when were done.”

“Susan, if we form the clitoris now, the sensitivity will be extreme to say the least.”

“Bonnie, I know that dear, I’ll insert numbing rods into each of her two labia minors. That will take care of it for two weeks. By then her sensitivity will be back to almost a normal level. She’ll also be able to be fully active, well, as much activity as being diapered 24/7 will allow for the first two weeks. I’ll bet she will be more than happy to be able to wear her little girl training panties after those two weeks.”

They both chuckle as I feel a lot of pressure down there and then I feel nothing at all as I drift away.

They removed both of my testicles, scooped out everything inside my scrotum, slit it into two pieces, and made the inner lips of a girl’s cunny. She inserted the self-dissolving numbing rods and then used a special adhesive to glue everything in place. Bonnie painted the tip of my penis with some kind of stuff that allowed them to peel away layers of skin leaving the nerve endings exposed. They injected that gel stuff and formed the big puffy labia majors that just left me with a single slit down there. You have to separate them to see the inner stuff. I guess most little girls don’t have the inner stuff showing. They did something to my chest as well.

“Bonnie, prepare her nipples with the skin prep solution. I want to make her nipples larger and more realistic. I’ll use the hormonal gel solution and inject it just under them until we get the desired results. By the time the hormonal gel is absorbed, she’ll be developing normally.”

“Okay Susan, Oh, I wrote her special dietary orders and forwarded them to the Mrs. Peter’s. She’ll be expecting the supplements and add them to Kimberly’s food and health shakes. I’m so glad we hired her, she’s the best dietician we’ve ever had.”

“She sure is Bonnie, remember Mrs. Osgood?”

“Do I remember her? She’s the nurse that used to work at the boys camp. She’d pick out the smaller cuter boys and switch their shampoos, body wash, and sunscreen lotion with tea tree oils and lavender based products. Within a month, they were growing breasts of their own. By the time they left camp, they had nice looking sets. It wasn’t until that Endocrinologists son went home with the personal care products that they found out the cause. I think he had “A+” sized breasts by the time he arrived back home. If she hadn’t told the boys to make sure they paid close attention to their personal care and used that sunscreen everyday, they never would have traced it back to her. She still got off though. It wasn’t illegal at all what she did. They were all easily obtainable over the counter products. She had them use them as they were intended, no foul, but those boys certainly had an interesting school year!”

“Bonnie, I got her a job at Mrs. Sanford’s Salon in LA. You know the one, ’Pretty Boys’ and she’s very popular there I understand. She’s rich now as well. She has her own line of skin care products. The mothers, grandmothers, and guardians of the ’pretty boys’ buy all of them regularly. She has a veritable who’s who list of clients.”

They worked on my penis next, peeling most of the skin away. They snipped and sealed the main vessels that would engorge the penis with blood allowing a stiffy. I would never get a stiffy again. The most I would get is an engorging of the tip, now my clitoris. They tucked what was left back until only a portion along with my urethra showed. They used the trimmed off skin to form my new clitoral hood. I needed that desperately. My clitoris would now be more sensitive to touch than a real girl’s would! I would never ejaculate, but I would now have a systemic orgasm, that means my whole body would react to a stimulus overload. They did my breasts and I was done. One hour and forty-five minutes, that’s all it took to change my life forever. I had a small tube inserted into my urethra until what they sprayed all over the area, some kind of barrier solution, cured. That stuff promotes rapid healing and protects all the raw areas from infection and contamination.

When I woke up, Mrs. Sanford, Nurse Cindy, and Ms Ringwood were there. I was completely dressed in a pair of loose fitting, light, pink summer shorts, and a loose fitting pink top. I had on pink socks and pink sneakers with yellow trim. Everything had yellow trim. The top had the camp logo on it with my name spelled out as Kimberly in yellow script embroidery. I still had the twin ponytails tied with the pink ribbon bows. I looked in the full mirror and saw my makeup was still intact. Dang, I looked pretty and that made me feel weird. I noticed my bottom was thickly padded, so obvious to anyone seeing me. I also noticed my chest, GEEZE it looked huge to me! I asked.

“Um, when can I stop wearing these diapers and how come my chest looks so big?”

Mrs. Sanford let Nurse Cindy answer me, she said.

“Kimberly, your chest looks bigger now because they have pads on them. The pads are keeping the medicine on your breasts until they heal Sweetheart. It will just be for a few days and then you can go without the pads and you’ll look a bit smaller. As for the diapers, well, that will be about two weeks Princess. The procedure turned out perfectly, but your body has to adapt to the changes. You can’t feel anything down there right now and that will last for about two weeks. That means you will not know or feel when you have to pee Honey.”

Mrs. Sanford jumped in here, took over the conversation, and completely changed the subject.

“Come with us Kimberly. Ms Ringwood and I want to take you to your cabin and you can meet your cabin mates. I want you to know that several of the groups wanted you to be in their cabins, but we selected the older girls for you to stay with as they can watch over you and help you better than the others could.”

Ms Ringwood says.

“Kimmie, once you are settled in and all, one or more of the girls will take you on a tour. After your tour, come to the main office, you will need to talk to your grandmother. After your phone call, we’ll walk over to the infirmary and get you changed and give you a quick look over, all right Princess?”

“Yes Ma’am, get settled, go on a quick tour, talk to Grammy, go to the infirmary, get changed and a quick look over.”

Both of the women smile, nod, and chuckle. We arrive at a cabin that looks like a log cabin. It’s a large two-story cabin with a wrap around porch. I’m very surprised this place is beautiful! I mean at the other camps something like this was for the owner or director of the camp, not for the campers. I see a two girls sitting on the porch railing out front. They see us coming, one of them runs inside and the next thing I know, six girls are jogging towards us grinning and chatting away loudly.

When they get close enough, I know I will be staying with the 16 year olds. I see Lucy and recognize two others from the bus. I was left with the girls as the two women returned to whatever they were returning to after giving Lucy and the girls a few instructions. Lucy is the cabin leader, and soon she has me by the hand and we walk to the cabin and I’m given a tour. This place is bigger than the house I live in! It has five small bedrooms, all occupied, each identical to the rest. There is a bed, a desk and chair, a corkboard on the wall with the cabins schedule of activities and other stuff thumb tacked to it. A closet with clothes that need to be hung in it and one wall has a bunch of drawers and cubbyholes in it. Lucy shows me that the desk turns into a vanity lifting up the desktop. When you do that, underneath has a place for makeup and junk. The desktop is a mirror with lights around it once you lift it up fully. The upstairs also has a bathroom with three toilets, three showers, three sinks with counter space and mirrors. Three hairdryers are hanging on hooks nearby. There is a large clothes hamper for the used towels and wash clothes. There is a nice feature at the far end of the upstairs, a walk out porch all screened in keeping the bugs away.

We go downstairs and Lucy shows me our room. This bedroom is twice as large as the others are and it’s a good thing! I see Lucy’s bed and a smaller bed next to it. My bed is lower and much shorter than Lucy’s bed; it even has wooden side rails. I recognize a toddler bed when I see one! She shows me her (our) closet and immediately I can recognize my stuff from hers. My clothes are all much smaller versions of her clothes. They also are a little more juvenile in design. I groan, the girls giggle, and I’m promised a closer look at everything later on.

I’m shown a bathroom that has a tub, and a new addition I recognize as a changing table. The shelves above it are stocked with disposable diapers, baby diaper pants in pink, yellow, and white. I also see my future sleepwear and I’m not overjoyed in the least! Sleeveless leotards, five of them two are pink, one with four rows of yellow ribbon lace on the bottom, one with four rows of white ribbon lace. Two are yellow also with four rows of contrasting colored lace on the bottoms. The last one is white and is the worse of them all. Front and back are covered in contrasting rows of pink and yellow ribbon lace, at least eight rows! I also see colored tights stacked neatly nearby on a shelf. I immediately say.

“Look guys, I only have to wear these for two weeks, why do I have to wear this stuff? My entire clothes selection is little girl stuff!”

Janet, the biggest girl in our cabin, and she is big and not in a fat way either. Lifts me up and hugs me saying.

“Kimmie Honey, you have to face facts Sweetheart. You look like a five-year-old little girl. Yes, you only have to wear the thick diapers for two weeks, but you’ll still need to wear thick training panties until you can control your wee-wee. See, we even have a potty chair for you.”

I’m shocked; I hadn’t realized I would have to go through all of this. It was supposed to be a simple tuck away procedure, what had happened to make me have to learn to wee on my own again? I look and see a pink potty chair with yellow trim with my name on the back. It read “Princess Kimberly” in an arc in script writing. I groaned, rolled my eyes, and everyone giggled. Janet continued.

“Kimmie, all of these outfits as we understand it were selected and paid for by your grandmother. She’s a good friend of Mrs. Sanford, so don’t cause any trouble okay Sweetie? Your grandmother stays here for a week with Mrs. Sanford every summer, and she donates a lot. Everyone here just loves her to death.”

I smelled a rat right then and there! I’ve been set up and royally screwed! How can I talk to Grammy later knowing all this and keep anger out of my voice? I yell out.

“We need a group meeting! I need to tell you my entire story. After I tell you, you’ll see that my grandmother isn’t all that nice!”

I startled them all with my shouting and the anger in my voice. Being my size, when I get like this surprises everyone. We plan a meeting later on after dinner. I have to go on my tour now and then talk to sweet Grammy, and then go to the infirmary.

Janet and Lucy go with me and I’m surprised to see a golf cart. We get in and Janet drives as Lucy sits in the back seat with me. Most of the stuff I see is the regular type stuff all camps have, but a few things stand out. The official Olympic pool and separate diving pool are awesome! Tennis courts, wave pool, basketball court, softball field, all the sports for girls, are represented and of the finest quality. We pull up to this huge building and walk in. It’s filled with gymnastic equipment, an indoor track, pole-vaulting area, and everything else for gymnastics and track and field. We go for another short ride in the golf cart and pull up to this other building about one-quarter the size. We go in and it’s a dance studio. It has everything a high quality dance studio should have. There is a woman there and she calls us over. She is very petite and very beautiful. Her name is Ms Leticia Horn and she is the head instructor here. She knows me immediately and calls me Kimberly.

“Hello Kimberly, you’ll be spending a lot of time with me Princess. You are a very pretty girl. I have everything you need, let me give you the three-penny tour. Lucy, Janet, come back in about a half hour all right girls?”

The two girls leave and Ms Leticia says.

“Kimberly, I know you were a boy once, with that in mind you need to do a few special things to develop and train muscles you don’t normally use. I have designed a program that does just that, and has proven successful with other girls like you. Every day at 10:00 am, you’ll come here and I’ll personally spend an hour with you. In no time at all, you’ll be able to dance like all the other girls. Now let me show you your locker and dancewear.”

As we walk towards the locker room I say.

“Ms Leticia, what did you mean by girls like me?”

She stopped, knelt down, gave me a hug and a kiss, and said.

“Kimberly, some girls are born with extra little bits that require fixing before they can become the beautiful girls they really are inside. All of us have heard about you Kimberly. Mrs. Athens (my Grammy) has told us all about you and how hard life has been for you. She has known since you were born that you were one of the special girls. You see Kimberly, your grandmother and Mrs. Sanford have helped a lot of special girls just like you. They have spent a good portion of their lives doing just that. Every year we have had at least one special girl here, sometime a few. This year you’re our special girl and we’ll do everything to help you and make you the happiest you’ve ever been. No one will pick on you or tease you here Kimberly. Once you leave here, no one will ever pick on you or tease you again.”

OH GOD, OH GOD! They are making me a girl here! I’m never going to be a boy again, and they just are doing it, they never asked ME anything! I wonder if my mom knows any of this. I bet she knew all along! I feel my shoulders shake and I re-focus. Ms Leticia says.

“Kimberly, deep down you knew you never had a choice in this Honey. You’re very beautiful, very small, and delicate. You’ve been teased and hurt just for being who you are Sweetheart. Isn’t it good that that will never happen again Honey? Now you can pout, scream, kick, throw a tantrum, and try to run away and hide somewhere. None of that will change anything though Kimberly. You have a big choice to make now Sweetheart. You can choose to become the best little girl that we all know you really are, or you can waste your time and your life being miserable. I won’t let you choose the latter, so you’d better put a smile on your beautiful face and enjoy yourself this summer and every day after that pretty one.”

She gave me another big hug and a kiss, led me around, and showed me everything that pertained to my training and dancing. The place is wonderful, she kept me distracted, and I saw that all my leotards and dancing stuff could only be described as child wear, GEEZE! It looks like I’ll be wearing those training panties longer than I have to wear these diapers!

I’m in a sort of a foggy dream and nightmare when the girls pick me up and we continue our tour. I find out that this camp isn’t co-ed at all. The boys never come over here and the girls never go over there. They even go into to town on separate days and times. The boys go to the Saturday church services and the girls go Sundays. On Saturdays, they don’t have the church social or anything like that. The boys go to services, then shop a little bit, and go back to camp. The boys all took a vote, and they don’t go to the town’s dances and the town likes it that way. I guess there was some trouble between the town boys and the camp boys over a few of the town girls. No, my boy life is over for good now. I have a hard time with that yet though.

We finally see everything I’m supposed to see and they take me to the infirmary. I know I’m sopping wet, I can feel the wetness and the heaviness of my diaper. I’m numb in front, but I can still feel my bottom. Lucy and Janet come in with me and PA Bonnie and Nurse Cindy are waiting for me smiling. PA Bonnie says.

“Hi girls, Lucy, Janet, are you ready for your training now?”

They answer in unison. “Yes, ma’am, we’re ready.”

I find myself naked and lying on an examination table, when, in walk Dr. Susan, Mrs. Sanford, and my Grammy!

The next bit is a mixture of them explaining what has been done to me and showing me what I look like down there now. While PA Bonnie and Nurse Cindy are showing and instructing the two girls how to care for me and what signs to look out for, my Grammy is stroking my forehead and explaining why this was done to me. Grammy tells me a lot more than I ever knew about my body and me. She told me my mommy just couldn’t do it. My mom just didn’t and doesn’t have the strength of mind to tell me what I needed to know. I wanted to stay a little boy no matter what, even though in the long run, that wasn’t ever possible for me to live a happy and useful life. My mom just couldn’t make me see the truth and let me be the little boy I thought I was.

Grammy said.

“Kimberly, as a little boy you were almost passable when you were naked. People saw your tiny penis and thought you were the prettiest little boy they ever saw. As you grew older, not much changed. You became even more beautiful, remained delicate and tiny. Your little boy parts stayed tiny as well. Everyone that saw you thought you were a tomboy, none of them believed you were a boy at all.

“You turned twelve and puberty would begin soon. Something had to be done and done now. I had something done because if I let your mommy decide things, nothing would ever be done. You must realize Kimberly that you would never grow into a young man and then a man. Your body just wouldn’t and couldn’t develop that way. You would be a teenager with a tiny penis, a tiny effeminate body with no hope of a sexual relationship with any of the girls. Next year you will have your urethra re-routed so you will wee-wee from the same spot girls do. When you turn eighteen, you will get the vagina that will make you a whole woman. The problem you have the most with now Pumpkin, is how you age and develop. You’re twelve, but your body is actually six. When you are eighteen, your body will be that of a nine year old. That is why you have to dress in an age appropriate way. Appearances are everything in this world if you want to be a success Kimberly. You can use your appearance as a tool to help you and to fool your competition and enemies. They will underestimate you and that is to your great advantage. I will help you and teach you everything I know Kimberly. I hope that one day you’ll replace me and run my companies. Your mommy just doesn’t have what it takes, but you do. You have your father’s intellect, common sense, and strength of will. I’ve seen that time and time again. Along with your fathers attributes, you also have your mothers and her family’s physical ones. You’re small and delicate, very beautiful. What you have that is unique is that eternal youth everyone in the world craves and tries to buy through chemicals and plastic surgery. That is what you have no one else has Kimberly. When you are sixty years old like I am now, you will appear to be thirty. That is a gift to cherish Kimberly. Now, let’s get you diapered and dressed. It’s time for dinner and I want my granddaughter to sit with me. We have a lot to catch up on and talk about Sweetheart.”

We did sit together, along with Mrs. Sanford. They have known each other since they were children. Mrs. Sanford would have been Mr. Sanford if it weren’t for my grandmother helping him through the years to become the girl and woman he always knew he was.

As my grandmother became very successful, married, had my dad and so on, she and her husband helped many girls born like me. They didn’t have my growth condition, but they were all in need to become the girls they really were. When my dad and grandfather died in a plane crash, my grandmother, and Mrs. Sanford teamed up to make Mrs. Sanford’s summer camp a very special place.

I’ll always remember that summer. A summer of terror at first, but quickly things changed and she was right. I was never happier in my life before that time. I had a wonderful time and learned to laugh at my clothing. I had to admit I did look cute as hell in those outfits. Yes, it took until they re-routed my urethra and several months after that until I once again regained control of my muscles and stopped wetting myself. For a year and then some, I had to wear the thick, baby training panties. They were actually a one-piece diaper and waterproof panty, covered with a cloth panty. Yes, they were usually fancy and frilly.

I’m twenty-one years old now. Grammy is, well, much older. She’s retired from her businesses, but is still active with the summer camp. She and Mrs. Sanford (I now call Auntie Betty) stay together at the camp each summer. My mother is my shield now. Everyone thinks she is running things, but I’m the one that runs it all. I turn up from time to time standing and being with my mom. They see a ten-year-old girl. A very pretty and delicate creature, that everyone underestimates. Yes, Grammy is right; appearances are everything in this world, especially in business and finance!

One thing I’ve learned the hard way that many don’t ever learn. Morality can get in the way of reality and peoples real and desperate needs. My mom knows this well. Her objections and reluctance to take part in my change were made on moral grounds. If she had her way, I would probably have committed suicide by now. Either that or have been killed by some homophobe. We’ll never know though will we? All I can go by is what I have experienced, lived through, and seen so far. Children and adults treated so badly all in the name of what is morally right or wrong. There is a place for morality and it is needed in a general way for societies to function and countries to exist somewhat peacefully.

I think the biggest problem is when humankind’s religions use quotations from long dead peoples from long ago societies, and reword and interpret them to try and fit them into today’s world. It doesn’t work; it never has and never will. Morality and morals change with the times. Humankind’s religions can never keep up. What many try and convince others, as religious truth, justice, and love, is only a fantasy turned bad. Ask anyone in this world that doesn’t fit into a religious mold of some kind. They are sinners, abominations, they are given pity, told that God, Jesus, or some other entity loves them and are just waiting for them to give themselves over to whatever it is they are to trust with blind faith.

Miracles happen from time to time, but not enough of them to do the majority in need of them any good. Humankind must help humankind! They must use the tools they have to help when they can. This world will change that way for the better. No religious strings and morality restrictions will work on a worldwide basis. We all know this, yet many remain blind to it. Millions of Catholics, Protestants, Muslims, and so many more are restricted to really help in a meaningful way. These religions are spread all over the world and have been for hundreds of years. What have they done to better this world? Nothing but become richer! Hand out Bibles and Korans; build churches, synagogues, and mosques. Kill each other in the names of their religions. Yes, they are quick to inform the world what is morally right and what their god’s have to say on all subjects from hundreds and thousands of years ago! Religions get rich off of interpreting, and changing, the very words their gods uttered so long ago. To bad, they condemn masses of people through religious justice. They don’t have to help them, no way! They are all beyond redemption!

No, it’s going to take the regular humans, the every day realists to make this world a better place for all to live. No religions, no rules of morality will do this. It will be those certain peoples who see what really is needed to be done today, to change things for the better for the future of this world and humankind.

I thank my Grammy for her intervention as morally wrong as they were. Her actions were needed then, and has helped make this world a better place today. I know they helped me! I in turn am helping others. That is what will make a difference, a real difference!

I’ve created a special year-round school for special kids. Um, I do get a lot of support through Federal monies for some reason. I’ve staffed it with the best and most talented professionals I could find. A wonderful woman that was a girl born like me runs the place. it’s for those like me. Little ones with aging differences and born with the wrong bits. I’ll tell you about it sometime.

There are other schools somewhat similar, but different all the same. They are scattered about the world in different countries. A woman I’ve come to know and love as a sister, like Grammy and Mrs. Sanford is the secret headmistress of them all. You might know her or have heard of her? Her name is Karen Page. Ask her about her schools sometime. Yes, this world has a chance, if we can get past the morality of it all and really do something real!

Huggles All!
Kimberly Caitlyn Amy

 
 

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Comments

My Screw up

I posted this story for Angel and I screwed up when I posted it!

I want to thank Erin for fixing my screw ups, bloopers, and blunders.

"HUGGELS ERIN"

"Be excellent to each other,

And "PARTY ON DUDES & DUDETTS"

Konichiwa

No huhu

erin's picture

It wasn't messed up, just a bit unfriendly to some of the older browsers. :)

Hugs,
Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Interesting Story Angel

as it was concerned mainly with the moralities and not as much with the transformation. I am not certain what stand to have taken. On one hand, Kimberly did not express the desire to be a girl and it was forced. On the other, if nothing was done, she would have lost that window of opportunity to be the young and ageless girl she became. Its a tough issue to grapple with and I think you did a good job! Kimberly found her true calling and happiness.

hugs

Sephrena Lynn Miller

Interesting, to say the least

I'll be honest, I couldn't get into this story, but that's just because it's not the right kind of story for me. Since I'm not into stories dealing with this particular level of forced feminization or age regression in this form I couldn't finish it- however, what I did read of the story was quite interesting, and the main character's inability to age at a normal rate makes for quite an intriguing array of options. I do like a lot of the parts of the idea- the antagonist being "adopted" by the bigger girls, nobody believing his age or gender, and going to the wrong camp, and after skipping to the end and reading a bit of the finale, I'm glad that she ended up happy in the end, as that is the most important aspect of any story to me- the Happy Ending. You took a path to reach that ending that makes me uncomfortable, but yet again, that's due to my own preferences and means nothing concerning this story.

For the right audience, an excellent story, well written and involved. Great work!

Little people at its best!

Again the end result is a happy little girl similarly to the previous little universe stories. What I really liked about the story though was the moral questions build into it. What right do parents (and in this case grandparents) have to make literally life changing decisions for their kids? I don't have kids myself so I don't really know what one should do. I think that you cannot always ask a kids permission - but should it still be done when the change is a major one? A 12 year old is not a baby anymore and can understand lots of things. Granny thought mom was weak and so she did what she thought needed to be done. But was she more or less decieving herself? She had always treated Kim as a girl so for granny there was no boy Kim at all. And would Kim really have commited suicide if he had lived on as a boy? The fact that Kim as a girl later accepted her fate to be the best possible isn't really an answer as the question is should HE have been asked in the first place. Then again the question might have been impossible for Kim to answer - being girl for granny hadn't given him positive feelings about it. He also knew from all the teasing that he wasn't really cut being a "man's man". So who and how should the question of gender to be decided?

These ramblings are connected to the issue of androgynous babies whose parents (on medical advice) have had to decide the gender after birth (they showed signs of both genders). There was a TV-program where some of these kids later felt that they had been wronged.

Thank you Angel for this thought evoking story! Could you also (PRETTY PLEASE) continue some of your older ones`?

Hugs,
Sissy Baby Paula and Snowball (my toy puppy)

In a world ...

Never mind. I had something to say, but decided to withdraw it. I've sent it to Angel privately.

Randalynn

Insufficient Keywords

Somewhere around the second diapering, I figured out I wasn't going to be able to read any more of this story. I'm quite uncomfortable with the pants-wetting and diaper-care scenario, especially in context to humiliate the protagonist, whether juvenile, adolescent or adult. To me, the focus of the story seemed more about infantilism and diaper-play than transgenderism at the point that I stopped reading.

Aren't there story keywords available for this subject matter? Properly labelled, I wouldn't have even started reading it. An author may have a right to write anything they like, but tricking (even unintentionally) someone into reading an off-subject story is offensive in my humble opinion. Stories should be properly labelled for the good of all concerned, especially when they contain fetishes which are of limited appeal. To be considerate, authors of those stories should have a duty to be diligent in labelling them.

Sorry Pippa, I didn't post this story.

Once again, some people who read only part of a story can't help themselves from condemning a complete story. They read something in a story they don't like or are "uncomfortable" in reading and they stop.

Pippa you wrote.

To me, the focus of the story seemed more about infantilism and diaper-play than transgenderism at the point that I stopped reading.

Well, you missed what you were looking for Pippa, by stopping where you did. That is your choice to make of course, to bad you had to add the above line based on your limited knowledge of the story. I don't mind you stopping and not reading my stories for whatever reasons you really have Pippa, just don't pass judgement when you only chose to have a partial knowledge to base your judgement on. Save your judgements on the story itself when you have read the whole thing okay?

When I can, I will add the keywords you are looking for, but right now that option is not available as an edit.

Huggles
Angel

Be yourself, so easy to say, so hard to live.

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

Happy Now?

Once again, you pay no attention to what someone is trying to say, but only lash out and try to impugn the integrity of the person making the comments. Let me try to be more succinct.

I make no judgement about the story itself.

I am not going to read your story for the reason I stated in my comment. And, I certainly don't need to before making this comment: It contains subject matter pertaining to at least one fetish that I happen to find to be a major turnoff. This is called "personal taste". That you confuse it with "moral judgement" is worrying. Or, one can always hope, merely a debating tactic. I don't care if it also has TG elements -- that's not the issue. It contains a fetish that I don't share and don't want to read about. And, that is my right.

What I do say about your story is this: I complain about your failure to label it correctly. If, as you state, the current menu selections don't include those labels, you should prepend a note including a heads-up.

Your story contains infantilism, diaper-play, and judging from the other comments, forced femininization. These are standard fetishes in the kink community, and nothing to be ashamed of or to deny. There are people who share your fetishes and many consenting adults get together to act them out. There are even hanky color-codes adopted in the gay and kink communities to facilitate meeting in bars. The only thing irrational would be to deny that they even were fetishes and therefore don't need to be disclosed.

Label your stories, Angel. Make friends by sharing with those who love this subject matter, not enemies by tricking those who don't.

No intent by anyone to deceive

erin's picture

The story was posted by someone else, Pippa. Angel couldn't change the labels until I changed the ownership of the story.

Let's just chalk this one up to me needing a better system to distribute these responsibilities. I'm working on it.

Hugs to all,
Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Funny Misty Dawn (Pippa K.), really funny!

I loved this story, and want more of it. This one has all the realism and emotional impact a REAL story requires for it to be loved and enjoyed. Judging by having over 3,000 hits, I guess this one rates right up there with some of the best. I agree with the hit count, this is one of the best I've read in a while. Pippa K. (Misty Dawn) I think is just jealous.

Congratulations on a wonderful story and a very popular one Angel!

Thank You For Writing This
Guest Reader and a big fan

I was just thinking

I was thinking as I read the comments that in a lot of ways this is opposite of most of the real life transgender stories I've heard. In them the child always insists that they are other than what they appear. In this one and most of Angel's other stories it is the body that that is much different from the mind and the child have no real desire to change their perceived gender. Would this have changed after puberty?

I enjoyed Kimmie's story and as always Angel made me think outside of my usual box.
Hugs! Angel!
grover

please fix keywords

Ya, disturbing, and I agree with Pippa that it is key worded very badly. Had it been properly labeled I would not have started reading it. I could care less about the "morality" of the situation, I just found it gross. Fans of humiliating infantilism and sissy diaper fetishism are welcome to their stories, but please, please label them properly so the rest of us won't try to read them.

Guest Reader

Your opinion is just that your opinion. If you are really just complaining about the lack of key words used, then okay, but I explained that already.

As for the other part, you'll find those types of stories at Betty's Pub, not here.

Yes state. Fans of humiliating infantilism and sissy diaper fetishism are welcome to their stories,..

My story is not about that at all, it has some elements in it, but it is not about fetishism, sissies, nor humiliating infantalism. It is a fictional story that says something.{{edited -- Erin}}
Huggles
Angel

Be yourself, so easy to say, so hard to live.

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

overly defensive?

I may have made a bad word choice since I was trying to convey that I had no problem with people writing or reading stories with those themes, you call them elements, I say whatever. You also had not replied about the keyword issue at the time that I started to post my comment. Once your main character was stuffed into a diaper, I was uncomfortable and I stopped reading. I'm not trying to insult you, it simply deals with things that *I* am not comfortable reading about. You attacked Pippa for the fact that she stopped reading it for similar reasons too, and say it is unfair to judge the story with out reading the whole thing. You are wrong. The story introduced themes that I did not find enjoyable, from Pippa's comment there was at least one more diaper scene after the first one that caused me to stop reading. How does admitting the story is not for us and mislabeled become something for you to feel offended about? We're supposed to expect that the whole story will change and you will just abandon those themes sometime "soon" in the story? I'm sorry if it upsets you, but while your story may have a message, it's a message that will only be reached by people comfortable with the content leading up to it, or masochistic enough to force themselves to read it even if they aren't comfortable. Why would I torment myself in order to give a more fair judgment of your story? I tried that with "Christmas Surprise" and still gave up before the end. It in fact taught me to be more aware of the keywords of stories on this site. I find your antagonism bizarre. You seem aware that some people find your stories unsettling, yet angry that someone would say it. If the story was properly keyworded you would have a point, with proper keywords I wouldn't have tried reading it and I wouldn't have left a comment, but it wasn't. I realize you didn't post this story, and that the keyword problem is not your fault, but that does not make it somehow not a problem, or make anyone wrong for pointing it out.

it does not take too long

it does not take too long to know the scenes in Angel's stories. She writes pretty much the same ones every time forming different plots around the victims. Parents with selfish motives, neighbors finding ways to get them in dresses, a girls church choir to sing in, far reaching corporations and government cabals reaching into a childs life all coming to manipulate for their own ends. That is not a bad thing to rally against, she has been consistant in her stories. Generally doing sermons to the converted about abuse and the forms it may take even if she does get a little prechy. I can not be sure I've read all her stories but this is the first that I've read that has brought the child to adult-hood with an actual transformation.

Always gives something to consider.

Thank you Suna

The preaching comes from being preached to for almost every story I have ever written, giggle, giggle.

A writer needs to let others know why they write sometimes, especially if they post online and the genre is TG Fiction. If a writer lets the readers know more about them, then the reader sometimes can understand the stories you write a bit better.

The majority of my stories have elements of my actual youth in them. Not word for word or even factual at times, but I've lived through and experienced parts of what I write about. That is why I'm so passionate about it, and really want people to understand the story for what it is and what it isn't.

Mankind's religions used me, abused me, and then discarded me. Sorry, but that is the reality of it. I have my own relationship with my angel and the creator. All my young life until I went off on my own, was a series of others freely manipulating me. Manipulating others IS the way of the world. It isn't right, but it isn't wrong either if you look at it in a general way.

In today's world it is harder to openly manipulate others and especially children. Not so back in the 50's when I was growing up. Still, the manipulations continue and in some ways are even worse than in the past.

Those issues are what my stories are all about folks. Not a diaper fetish, but the manipulation of the child into those diapers. In reality a child is not allowed to make decisions, they are given choices to choose from. Given limited choices is not the same as making ones own decisions. The decisions we make on a daily basis are usually choosing the best from a limited amount of choices. Now that's reality.

Huggles All
Angel

Be yourself, so easy to say, so hard to live.

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

No rant, sis, just questions

Jezzi Stewart's picture

If the parents in your "Little Ones" stories know from the beginning that their children are little ones, and that male little ones simply cannot become adult males, why don't they simply raise their temporarily male children as girls from day one? No more problems, particularly since they will look like little girls anyway. BUT, how does anyone know what happens when these kids hit puberty? In another story, you had the aging ratio much slower - I think 1:6 - and stated that the first group of little ones was thirty actual years old*, which would make them developmentally five. So decisions like Grandma made would have no actual evidence to back them up. Add to that that KC's aging ratio is 1:2, not 1:6. Is KC a unique little one, or a hybrid? And if he is, how could Grandma be sure he wouldl follow the same pattern as the others even if she somehow knew that pattern?

* - If their bodies were developmentally30 years old with a 1:6 ratio, the experiment that created them would have to have taken place in the 1840's.

"All the world really is a stage, darlings, so strut your stuff, have fun, and give the public a good show!" Miss Jezzi Belle at the end of each show

BE a lady!

Hmmmmmm

Hope Eternal Reigns's picture

Hi Angel,

The story was well written and interesting. I didn't like the idea that the gender reassignment was forced on Kimmie without so much as an explanation of the reasoning behind it, nor the humiliation of Kimmie on the bus, but that is just me.

with love,

Hope

with love,

Hope

Once in a while I bare my soul, more often my soles bear me.

My Comments

Angel,
As I was reading this story, I got to parts of it that made me feel unconfortable as well as wanting to quit reading it because it was starting to disgust me with the forced diapering, then the beginning surgical transformation. I almost stopped reading at that point because to me, it was seeming to be unnecessarily cruel to the child to force this onto him/her. *BUT* I didn't stop for some reason. You want to know why? Because I was curious about something and had to find out what was the reasing behind this change. I am glad that I did continue. While parts of the story were not to my tastes, I found that Grandma's explanation was satisfying enough to me. Was Grandma the Fraternal one or the Maternal one? That is one thing that I didn't understand and what was one of the most confusing parts. If she was daddy's mom, I can see the reasons for the things she did. If she was mom's mom, then I could also see that she was trying to wipe out the father's bloodline for some reason. If that was the case, then why was she being so sadistic about it? But in the end, Grandma's explanation was well timed and took care of all the issues I had been having with the story. Yes, the diapering was not really the best thing to read about but in the end, needed. I am glad I stuck with the reading as it wound up being a good little story. Thank you for sharing it with us.

GH

All this meta-commenting attached to a story is against policy

erin's picture

I'm going to start suspending people's ability to comment.

DON'T FUCKING DO THIS!

Clear?

Hugs,
Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Thanks, Angel

You seemed to have enjoyed yourself :)

D. D. Weldons

The Screw Up, LOL. Your vague titles are a great lure Angel.

When you first started writing your titles were right on the mark, but now that you have had a few years to hone your craft a bit, they are all vague. A reader must really pay attention to catch where your title for the story actually defines itself.

For me, trying to make assumptions and read ahead in your devious mind is fraught with peril. As soon as I think I have your story figured out and start picking up my reading pace you throw in a twist and a 180 degree turn that slows me right back down again.

Keep up the good work, meet me at the coffee shop, and please challenge me again! Zenda the Magician hasn't taken off like your story The Explorers Club, but I'm gaining on you girl!

For those of you that haven't read any of the fantastic stories over at Bob Arnold's site http://stardustr.us/ you should go and see what is there. Not only is there more stories for the contest, but several others stories not found here and Erin has a few wonderful GEMS posted there.

Hugs
Richard

Interpretation is no more than your life's experiences interpreted on others works.

Interpretation is no more than your life's experiences interpreted on others works.

Imagination

Angel,
I like your little people stories. In my heart I always feel that people who are not just like the majority of us are treated as less than human. Here is a boy who has a grandmother that sees him as he really is. His mom is reluctant to admit her son is not the boy she wanted and so she goes along with grandmom's ideas.
I wish my grand parents had seen me as I really was or even a relative. I think Kimmie is one extremely lucky little boy to have people care about him. His life is much more for the better. The pains and heartbreaks, the rejections and beatings I know all too well and I am sure others in the Transgender community also know them.
Here a small boy was saved from all of that degradation and introduced to being raised as a girl. I am sure lifes lessons still prevailed, but they did so with out the beatings and humiliation. Thank you for an ejoyable story, nothing was forced on the boy and his past before that camp indicated he was already used to being in girls clothing.

Jill Micayla
May you have a wonderful today and a better tomorrow

Jill Micayla
Be kinder than necessary,Because everyone you meet
Is fighting some kind of battle.

Yeah Jill, sometimes, no matter what happened to make...

the change, it works out very well. There are no set rules in the TG world, that's what makes it a great Genre to write in!

Hugs Jill
Dick

Interpretation is no more than your life's experiences interpreted on others works.

Interpretation is no more than your life's experiences interpreted on others works.

The Screw Up

is that to many people do not take the time to read the story. K.C. is a boy that suffers from slow aging and being intersexed. His granny finally is able to help him by completing his journey. True, many times religions can not accept such individuals. But my church has leaders with a vision that includes the outcast of society. I am truly sorry that Angel had such a hard life. I believe that if we had met as children, I would have been her friend and protector.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

I expected a story, instead

I expected a story, instead I got a psuedo-fable bashing religion. If I wanted religion bashing, I would go to a religious chat room or forum. Wait, I'm NOT at one of those, funny how that works.

Morals are funny things, they keep people from going out and willy nilly popping caps in people. Are there murderers? Aye, there are, however they generally don't have morals. I think morals are rather important in that respect.

Moreover, I feel that my personal morals and ethical processing center consider the following to be true: The ends don't justify the means. To me, this grandmother and her cohorts should have been arrested for child abuse. They want the kid to live and be successful? I have no problem with that, but they need to do it without the agenda. Also, if they wanted him to be successful why the hell would his mother give him a clearly girls name eh? There were other options than 'turning him into a girl'. It may very well have been the best option, and I obviously enjoy TG stories, or I wouldn't be here, but it was never delved into. My single biggest problem is, all that was needed for morality and such, was to ASK him what he wanted to do, explain to him what the deal and plan was. Try to convince him BEFORE cutting him up.

Anyway, I'm ranting a bit so I'm gonna go.

Advice

You should have put a warning header at the start.

Charissa

Morality has been the excuse used to murder more people than any other! Religions have murdered more people than any war. They've destroyed lives and continue to do so, all in the name of the moral minority. Open up your eyes, look around at the real world and see what lives and breathes in it. Maybe your morality makes the lenses of your blinders a little too dark to see clearly.

Morality is a persons belief of what they choose to believe what morality means for them.

A man shoots and kills his wife because she cheated on him, oh gee, he was morally right wasn't he?

A young Muslim girl is raped and then after she is stoned to death by her family. She brought shame to the family honor. In that world, that is morally right as well.

The list is long and goes way back in history of mankind of moral people justifying their hatred by their version of morality. Hey, go ahead and join the club. It's a free country!

I'm glad you liked my story, it sure did give you an excuse to climb up on your soapbox and preach to all of us sinners! Giggle, giggle.

Oh, and if you read the other comments, you would have found all about the key word issue...that has been asked and answered a long time ago.

I stand by my story, it is controversial, but it is a story and it means a lot to me to have written it. You don't need a warning, you are a big girl after all aren't you? Oh, and I believe man made religions are a farce and history proves that out as well. Protestant, Catholic, who cares, their all hypocrites anyway.

PRAISE JESUS! Okay, I'm saved now....Let me go to confession, say a prayer or two and presto! I'm good to go! Yupper, I get to go to heaven!

Huggles Gharissa
Angel

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

Angel,

too many times, men USE religion to explain away their atrocities when they do some abhorent thing. Church hiistoory is filled with such. Me, I can not se why everybody wants to focus on the religion angle and not on the story of the main character or Granny.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

You got a story

erin's picture

You didn't like the story you got. I don't think you understood the author's point. I don't particularly like the story either, it's not to my taste. But Angel's intent in writing it is not the same as the intent of the characters in it.

Moral objections in public comments to a story are frowned upon here because traditional public morality would condemn ALL of the stories here.

ALL.

Every one.

Every single one.

So ... a moral argument against story content is bankrupt here from the very beginning because that brush paints too wide a swath.

You saw the story as religion-bashing and immediately equated morals to religion. Which is the more moral position: to do the right thing because it is the right thing or to do it for fear of punishment or hope of reward?

Good religion teaches morality but religion is not the same thing as morality.

Moral stories can be about immoral characters; in fact, they just about have to be.

Think about it.

BTW, any time a comment mentions "morality" or "child abuse" or "identity death" I tend to delete the comment because those terms are emotional brickbats, not legitimate criticism in my view. Fiction is fiction. I didn't delete this one because the author had already replied.

- Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Thank you Mom! As always you explain things...

much better and in a more diplomatic way than I can ever do. Sorry about answering this one, but you know me, and this one begged for a reply.

Huggles Mom! LUV YA!
Angel

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

If you don't like it..

Frank's picture

Just STOP reading it. PM the author and tell her why you didn't like it if you feel strongly about. With authors getting harassed lately on an ongoing basis (one who chose to go offline because of it)..not liking a story isn't or shouldn't be that big a deal...oh I don't mean you Charissa as the one harassing people..


Huggles!!

Alexis

Hugs

Frank

Alexis...

There is no soapbox in a PM. The idea is to preach their beliefs to one and all, not really to "SAVE" the sinning author.

As the author I am the minister of my story. You can either heed my message and read the story, or go find another minister's story you like!

That is what religions are all about these days anyway...I like that minister, I think I'll join this church! PRAISE JESUS, I"M SAVED! Oh, sorry, um, I'm sorry for having sinned and I will try to do better. (SPLASH, SPLASH as I'm dunked under the water)

There, now I'm saved!

I can rest easy now, I have a place in heaven!

See, it so easy when you believe!

Huggles Alexis
Angel

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

Thank GOD

Frank's picture

I'm JEWISH!!!!


Huggles!!

Alexis

Hugs

Frank

The your are one of God's chosen people!

So it is written, so shall it be!

Now follow all the rules and your in!

Giggle, giggle...I just love satire!

Really folks, I'm just playing the devil's advocate here. I do belive in God...HONEST!

Huggles
Angel

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

Not exactly

Frank's picture

It's not quite that dogmatic for the Reformed/Reconstructionist Jews. All Jews ask GOD for forgiveness each year, not a Rabbi..there is no intermediary between you and God. He knows if you are sincere and only He knows if you are forgiven. I lot of the "Rules" were written by men after the Old Testament...besides He HAD to choose someone and we were like, sure, but what's in it for us? Just a few thousand years of hatred and persecution..no problem! :)


Huggles!!

Alexis

Hugs

Frank

Giggle...the Old Tset is filled with rules and...

being Jewish I think you've heard of Moses Laws? You know, the part in the bible that it describes Moses as having that young newlywed couple stoned to death for picking up firewood on the sabbath? They were supposed to freeze, not pick up firewood so they could stay warm, not on the sabbath! GEEZE!

Oh, and the story in the old test about...and, and, and...

PLEASE JEWISH SISTER!
Rules and laws abound in the old test!

Gggle, giggle
Angel

Um...PS...aren't we suppossed to be commenting about my story here? Isn't this against the rules? GEEZE ALEXIS you want to get me stoned to death? Jew's I'll never understand them! Cut off their foreskin and they loose their minds, GEEZE!

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

Not quite

Frank's picture

You do what you have to do to LIVE. That comes before the Sabbath..life is the most important thing..that's what I was taught. Also, girls don't have foreskins!! **GIGGLE**

However you're correct about the commenting on stories part so I'll leave it here or you can take it to PM!!

LOVE YOU!!


Huggles!!

Alexis

Hugs

Frank

Typical woman, she has to have the last word!

We can remove your clitoral hood! That would qualify! Giggle, giggle...

Yeah, let's take it to the PMs.

Love you too
Huggles
Angel

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

Do NOT!!!

Frank's picture

{sticking tongue out at Angel}

Hugs

Frank

Why Can't anyonje vote for this story?

I'm a bit concerned when I find a story without a voting button on it like this one. One of the all time popular stories that will slowly slip backwards if people cannot continue to vote for it. Is this fair or maybe a new site policy?

Huggles
Angel

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

Must be you

I scrolled up and the vote buton is there, just like many/most other stories.

Yuri!

Yuri!

hallelujah anyway

laika's picture

"Hallelujah Anyway"
-Kenneth Patchen

Angel:
God, if it was only that simple. Religions look particularly evil
because they have been the predominant unifying belief systems for our species
since the start of written history. But good dialectical materialists (athiests)
in the USSR etc etc managed to spread the misery around without a spiritual angle.
Pol Pot was no God-boy, but he was right up there with the Spanish Inquisition.
I think without religion we'd be persecuting each other over political beliefs,
and without politics it would be something else (In Gulliver's Travels it was
which end of the egg you broke open when you cooked. Leave it to Swift to carry
this notion to the extremes of absurtity!). I guess it boils down to whether it be religion,
politics or eggs we shouldn't take our opinions so seriously that we pick up a gun or burn someone at the stake to make our point. Nevermind that "they're" all doing it. This seems more the real point of most famous religious texts than "Death to the infidels", (but what do I know? I'm an abomination before the Lord. LOL!)...

I liked your story, and I didn't mind the editorializing at the end. I like it when people have strong convictions, and I enjoy the comment box debate that follows a controversial story sometimes as much as the story itself. (Do they even make soap boxes anymore? They're cardboard now,
when I get on one I fall right through!)
Hugs, Peace, Freedom,
Laika

Laika, giggle, giggle...

We have to remember that these are all stories, and that most writers use part of their life's experiences to draw on to write said stories.

Morality has its place as do religions. I would be a fool to say they didn't or weren't needed at some point in peoples lives.

My whole point about morality is it is a personnal belief system. We all have our own level of our one "DEFINED" morals. You don't have to belong to a man made religion to have a hard and fast faith that there is a God or higher power.

Most people belong to religions they truly have no idea about. They don't know the religions' history, how they started, who(m) started that particular religion and so forth. They you can get into the whole ideas of Christianity, and the literally thousands of offshoot churches under the same religious heading! All with different belief systems based on a book assembled by men aver 1500 years ago! LOL...Catholics to boot! GEEZE!

Anyway, I think it's more of a group type thing. I BELONG, sort of need we all have at some point in our lives.

I have a story coming out that makes this one look like a Disney story, so be warned! LOL...

Thanks for your comments
Huggles Laika

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

Angle,

I was raised as a Southern Baptist. They are some of the most conservative, minority basing people around. In fact, Ruhama Baptist Church chose to merge with Irondale First Baptist Church rather than admit Blacks into the congregation. I was there for the final service. I cried over the loss. I had many friends there, but I refused to join the other church. Now, I attend a blended church East Lake United Methodist Church. Sally Allocoa is co-Pastor with Maxwell Blalock. She is in charge of the Contemporary Service. The church has grown under her leadership. We have Blacks in the congregation. In fact, one of my good friends is a young Black mother of two babies. [no, I am not the father,] Angel, I have grown in this church. for that,I am grateful

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

I'm happy for you Stan, but your comment just proves my point.

You were lucky in your "Pastor" shopping, and then give that denomination the credit in a way. Sorry Stan, but as religions stand none of them answer to the call as a whole.

You can "luck out" and find a great "Pastor" that seems to say all the right things that fit "your" ideals and moral needs. I'm happy for you I really am!

Unfortunately as you describe in your first portion of your comment, now that is the reality and norm for the majority of the church goers past and present.

God the Father chose the Jews, he didn't choose anyone else! Jesus one of the chosen Jews was the one to welcome you to God. So from the time God chose the Jews until Jesus chose the rest of human kind people other than Jews just lived and died unless they believed in another god or gods. If they did, then that was their religious life.

That is still true today really. God instructed the Jews to not have any other gods before him. That didn't pertain to the rest of the non-Jewish human beings.

Christians have it rough because they really don't know Jack about their own religions mostly. Protestants (that is any Christian religion founded after the Catholic religion) Yes that means Methodist Stan have written and published their own versions of the so-called Bible. The first Protestant Bible was produced I think around 1611.

What does that mean? Any Christian before 1611 was not a real Christian? Giggle, giggle...

The two big Protestant claims to true Christianity are...

Solo Fide! Solo Scriptora! Translated from Latin means... Faith alone, and Scripture (Bible)alone.

Confusing isn't it? How can you have to alones? Makes no sense to me!

What about all those Christians that were murdered for their belief in Christ before a Bible was ever produced? Too bad, they died for nothing? Giggle, giggle...

Sorry Stan, religions are only a stepping stone to true enlightenment. That crap about follow all their rules and you'll get to heaven is just a load of bull----!

I stand behind this story all the way! I wouldn't and won't change anything!

Huggles Stan! Thanks for this opportunity for a great debate!
Angel Rene O'Hare

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

"Be Your-Self, So Easy to Say, So Hard to Live!"

You are most welcome!

I'm here to help author and reader alike.

 
Sephrena Lynn Miller
BigCloset TopShelf

"I'll never be the girl I used to be, but I'll be the woman I was meant to be!"

The Screw Up

This was a very different kind of forced fem; one where the "victim" was actually thankful later on that these procedures were done. I wish there really were schools like what you talk about here, residential treatment centers where M2F TS can be accepted as one of the girls, and universities that allow M2F to join a sorority like in my story Her Mother's Daughter.

Society as a whole allows itself to be brainwashed by the fanatical religious right. A true Christian never condemns, never judges another person, never hates anybody. But these Christians are very few and very far between. It is the hypocritical, homophobic and bigoted religious right that claims to be the one and only decent societal speaker for the good of saving souls. Well, to begin with, they need to save their own souls and stop judging, hating and condemning others.

Kimberly has come around in the years since that fateful camping trip to accept herself for who she truly is and her grammie and aunt Betty helped her do it. Thank you for sharing.

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,
Barbara

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

Is this the origin of the S.P.A.?

There are other schools somewhat similar, but different all the same. They are scattered about the world in different countries. A woman I’ve come to know and love as a sister, like Grammy and Mrs. Sanford is the secret headmistress of them all. You might know her or have heard of her? Her name is Karen Page. Ask her about her schools sometime.

Could this be the origin of the S.P.A. universe? Or is it more like a fan-fiction prequel to the S.P.A.?

From the stories posted here on BCTS we know of the SPA schools "Hayfield Hall" in England and "Immigration Manor" in Utah, USA. We have also learned that there is a school near Montreal in Canada, though there are no further details about it, as no story featuring it have been posted as of yet. And there have been hints of another one in France somewhere.

Jessica

More of an acknowledgement than the origin

I don't think this was actually the origin of the universe but more of an acknowledgement to the universe and it's creator Karen Page. Angel is mentioned in a similar way to Karen in Chapter 3 of Raised in Salt Lake City which I always thought was a nice touch in the story and in both this story and Raised in SLC its an aside to the reader more than part of the story.

Right at the beginning of Chapter 1 of A New Style of Education it has a line that mentions that it was based on an idea from A Christmas Diary by Little Katie which suggests the true origin of the universe but Karen would have to confirm really :).

The Canadian school is Wardenclyffe which is first mentioned in Chapter 29 of A New Style of Education and later used as a plot point in Chapter 15 of Education in the Hills and through this we also learn that it is a Theatre/Drama school with theatrical performances instead of Orchestral (Heyfield Hall) or Choral (Immigration Manor) in chapter 17 of Education in the Hills.

To Angel

sonai67's picture

I have always loved your stories, and it has broken my heart to learn of your passing on. I truly hope that you are now a true Angel in heaven and have earned your wings for helping so many of us to heal, and to be happy with whom we are.

All My Love to my Friend and My Angel..

James.

Sonai67